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It was a few days before Jackson returned to the house. Lucy did what she could to distract herself. She tended to Melanie and Jeremy and their new additions. Melanie had delivered two boys and a girl. The family was staying with Melanie's mother, Dr. Gibson, in Pine Creek while adjusting to their new life. Lucy spent much of her days at Dr. Gibson's house trading helper shifts with her friend Briana. She was holding babies, changing babies, shushing babies. Three pups was proving to be quite a handful. She was almost too exhausted to focus on the pain she felt from being away from her mate. Luckily the pack's organizational structure allowed her to delegate most tasks that came up. She consulted the top Beta, Hank, and other advisors as needed and was able to easily and confidently make any decisions that arose. She ate dinner every night with whatever members of the pack happened to be present at the house. One the first night, it was the usual couple dozen wolves. By the second, word had spread at the chance for face time with the Madam Alpha and the numbers grew. By the third night, they moved the dinner outside to accommodate the crowd. Lucy was truly feeling like a valued member of the group. No, not member— They listened when she spoke. They trusted and valued her opinion, but they felt safe enough to voice when they disagreed. They were her family. They were her pack. But each night when she slipped into the bed she was supposed to share with her mate, she cried. Her wolf whined and howled, full of sorrow. But in front of the pack, Lucy had to be strong. They needed her. When she wasn't helping Melanie and Jeremy, or delegating tasks, she was with Adam, helping with security projects at the office. She was at DeLane Industries listening to Adam's ideas for new motion sensor layouts for one of the pack's businesses in the city when she finally felt something through the mate bond. Jackson was near! She raced out of the building as quickly as she could, leaving Adam alone mid-sentence. She called to him as she burst through the front doors. She came out just as Jackson exited a dirty, beat-up-looking Jeep Wrangler. Three shirtless men who looked possibly more mud-covered than the Jeep itself joined him. The three jumped down from the vehicle in unison, laughing and elbowing one another. Lucy ran over and leapt into her mate's arms, wrapping her legs around his torso. Jackson's strong arms closed around her, rough hands firmly grasping her ass. Their mouths met for a scorching kiss. The embrace was full of desperation. Full of passion. Lucy felt like she'd been lost in the desert and had finally found her oasis. Lucy ran her hands all over her mate's strong, muscled body. Jackson was wearing a t-shirt, which she ripped to shreds in short order. She felt electrified. And full of need. The three bystanders gawked at the heated display. It was clear that the Alpha wolves were close to the surface. No one dared provoke the situation and force them to shift. Jackson broke the kiss. He kept his hot amber eyes fixed on Lucy. His hands gripped harder into her backside. He spoke, "Pete, I want to thank you again for your hospitality and for returning me to my mate. Please feel free to go for a run in our forest. I'm alerting the others of your presence now so you won't have any trouble. We'll see you all at the house for dinner." "Sounds good to us! Come on, boys!" One of the men responded. A few seconds later, the Jeep tore off into the distance. Before the old vehicle even made it out of the parking lot, Lucy and Jackson were already inside, halfway to the elevator. He said through their mate bond. Lucy only had one thing on her mind. She whined, desperate to feel his skin on hers. He covered her mouth with his as the elevator rose higher. He was unbuttoning her pants as the door opened to their destination- his office. Jackson flung open the large wooden door with enough force to put a sizeable dent in the wall. Neither of them batted an eye from the damage. He kicked the door closed behind them and the glass from the side panes of the door shattered, falling loudly on the floor. Lucy giggled, "Someone's a little forceful." Jackson responded by biting her mark. Even with his relatively dull human teeth, the move had Lucy floating on air. Jackson shoved her towards his large mahogany desk. She bent over, raising her backside in the air suggestively. He allowed his claws to come through in a partial shift and tore every scrap of clothing from Lucy's body. He raked his claws up her legs, beginning at her ankles. He snaked up her calves, around to the front of her thighs, and finally back to the curve of her ass. Red scratches remained on her skin. With werewolf healing abilities, the red lines would likely disappear within the hour, but Lucy and Jackson reveled in the sight while it lasted. He opened a rough palm and dropped a loud SMACK! on a cheek of her ass. Another slap came down hard on the other cheek. He purred wickedly through their mate bond. Another slap and Lucy's ass was warming. A few more hits of his palm rained down on her rear-end. Lucy loved the feeling, but she craved something more. She needed to feel the fullness inside of her. She couldn't take this teasing any longer. The force of her voice through their mate bond shocked her. It wasn't just a shout—Lucy had made an Alpha command. Her eyes widened. She hadn't practiced the use of her command voice at all, because... Well, frankly, she hadn't really needed it. She had been able to get her point across to the members of the pack without brute force. Before that moment, Lucy honestly wasn't sure that she'd even be able to produce an Alpha command. Jackson's strong arm reached up and gripped her hair at the base of her head. He pulled firmly, confident that as a Madam Alpha, she could take the rough treatment. He leaned down very close to her ear, pulling her head back. He whispered, so softly it was almost imperceptible, "I'm very proud of you for that. We'll talk about it later." Lucy blushed and broke into a grin, hearing his praise for her discovery of a new talent. Her merriment was short-lived. He pulled her hair tighter still and brought blow after blow down onto her reddening ass. He kicked her feet apart wider. His voice boomed through their bond, He let out a devilish, cold laugh. He reached between her legs and flicked her clit directly with his finger. Lucy squealed aloud. He reached up and gripped one of her nipples, twisting the rock hard bud. Lucy sucked in a breath through her teeth. The sensations were intense. Intense and so fucking good. Lucy had felt like she'd been on the edge since she caught a whiff of Jackson's scent. Now with all the stimulation, she was barely holding on. And Jackson knew it. She knew that he didn't even need to poke into the mate bond to know how much she loved having her hair pulled. How the rough play excited and electrified her. She was putty in his hands. Still holding onto her hair, Jackson tore off his pants with his other hand. He lined his painfully hard cock up to her flowing entrance. He thrust long and hard straight into her center, sending her even closer to the edge. The fullness was mesmerizing. Oh, Lucy had missed that cock. He pulled out slowly, depriving her of his dick once again. he thrust back hard into her, then removed himself slowly once again. thrust! another thrust. thrust again. thrust. Lucy let out a low moan. Lucy's moans got louder. she gripped the far edge of the desk with the force of Jackson's cock, anxious to hold on to something, anything. Jackson growled roughly as he continued to pummel her pussy. Lucy screamed as she finally fell into the strong orgasm that had been building within her. Her body shook all over, completely and totally overwhelmed. She continued to yell, babbling a mix of obscenities and nonsense as her orgasm raged on. And Jackson unloaded days' worth of pent up seed deep inside of his mate. *** The pair laid on his desk, papers and folders thrown about every which way. Jackson kissed every inch of his mate within reach. "I missed you so much," he stated between affections. Lucy grinned at him, "I missed you too." She reached a hand down lower, running a finger along his now-soft manhood. "I missed something else, too." Jackson growled at her, nipping her ear. "Careful, mate. Don't start something you can't finish." "And who says I won't be able to finish it?" She replied fiercely, surprising herself with the intensity. Since her Turning, Lucy's emotions had been haywire. It was due to the added emotions of her wolf, joining in combination with her human side, Jackson had told her. She felt like she was getting a better handle on herself with each passing day, but every once in a while, her wolf jumped in a little too much, throwing her off-balance. He smiled at her feisty reply, "Oh I fully believe and expect that you'll finish it, baby." He winked at her. "But we actually do have dinner plans tonight. I'm not sure you'd want to entertain our guests from underneath me." A flush rose in Lucy's cheeks. She normally wouldn't consider herself much of an exhibitionist but she had to admit, the idea suddenly sounded very hot. Jackson's deep bass laugh brought her back from her fantasy. "I think that one just made it to the top of the to-do list." He planted a kiss on her nose, "Just not tonight." Lucy joined him in laughter. She thought back to the strangers who had dropped Jackson off. "Who are these guys anyway? And where did you go?" "I ran." Jackson replied simply. "I made it quite far, actually. I was in the next state over when the Marshalls found me. Pete's the Alpha of the Marshall Pack. We hadn't talked in a while, and he had lots of questions about my new mate. I told him if he brought me home, he could come find out the answers himself." Lucy blushed. "I still can't believe the other packs know about me. Or talk about me. I'm really nothing special... I'm just... ordinary." She bit her lip, a multitude of insecurities floating to the forefront of her mind. "Baby, do you really think I 'ordinary?'" Jackson shot her a cocky grin with a wink. "Asshole." She muttered as she flicked the tip of his nose. They both heard Adam approach the office door. "Is it safe to enter, Alphas?" Jackson mentally waved him in. The blond man tried to sidestep as much glass and debris as he could as he chuckled and shook his head. "Alphas, I'm planning to head to the city tomorrow to check on one of the sites. Is there anything else you'd like me to handle while I'm there?" Lucy realized she was in quite a compromising position and moved her legs to hide most of her well-fucked pussy from Adam's line of sight. The movement caused her still-burning ass to brush across Jackson's dick. The Alphas both stilled. He slowly thrust his hips towards her. Lucy threw an elbow into Jackson's ribs, forcing a cough. "No, but thank you, Adam." Jackson coughed again, though Lucy could've sworn there was a laugh mixed in with the sound. "Actually, we're having guests tonight from the Marshall Pack. I don't think you've ever met any of them. I'd like you to join us for dinner, if you can." Adam nodded, "Certainly, Alpha. No trouble at all." Jackson continued, turning to Lucy, "In fact, we should invite Briana, too. I don't think she's met Pete either." Lucy's eyes lost focus for a moment as she reached out to Briana for the dinner invitation. "Okay, Bri will be there too. We should have quite the welcome wagon ready." With that, Adam excused himself, tipping his head to both Alphas before making his exit. Jackson leaned in to Lucy's ear and whispered sensually, "Ah, would you look at that? Just enough time for a quickie." Lucy gasped as his hardened cock thrust into her once more. *** Jackson had told Lucy that the Marshall Pack were very informal, but she still decided to dress up for her guests. Okay, so her skin-tight, high-cut dress was mostly to impress her mate. But if it impressed her guests too, well, so be it. Briana walked by out of the kitchen as Lucy entered the foyer, awaiting Jackson. "Damn girl! Save some sex appeal for the rest of us, will you?" Lucy chuckled. Briana headed towards the back door of the house. "Hey, Bri? Where are you going? I thought you were joining us for dinner?" "Don't worry, I won't leave you stranded." Briana held up the bag hanging from her shoulder, "Mom needed a few ingredients this thing she's making for Melanie, and since you guys have enough food here to feed any army..." Lucy's laugh continued, "Go. Take it. Feed those pups and their mom... but Bri, how about asking first next time?" She waved her friend off, "I'll see you later." As Briana exited her field of view, Lucy felt Jackson's approach long before she could see him. Jackson had been on calls almost nonstop since his return to the estate. As he made his way down the grand staircase to meet her in the foyer, she noticed his breath catch as their eyes met. He stepped down to meet her with impossibly fast speed. He grabbed her hips and pulled her close. Jackson leaned down to inhale deeply at her neck. "Mmm. Mate, you look ravishing." Bingo. That was the reaction she'd been hoping for. She smiled at him, her eyes dancing playfully. He stepped back to look her up and down. With a slow lick of his lips, he caressed each curve with his eyes. "You know, I'm starting to think you do this to me on purpose." She giggled, "And they say you're all brawn and no brains." She blew him a quick kiss before turning towards the front door. Pete Marshall and two others stepped through the massive front doors looking... Well, looking exactly like they had earlier that day. Dirty, covered in mud, shirtless, wearing only athletic shorts. They tracked more dirt into the house on their bare feet. Pete sauntered up to Jackson with a toothy smile, but Lucy was still bristling over the sight. Jackson told her through the mate bond. Lucy plastered a brilliant smile on her face as she silently agreed to be nice... for now. She stepped in front of Pete and extended a hand. "Lucy DeLane, nice to meet you." Pete wolf-whistled at her, "My, my. What have we here? I've heard quite a bit about you, pretty lady." He grabbed her hand and shook it with his own. "Pete Marshall. But I'm betting you already knew that." Lucy's smile became a bit more genuine. Pete looked down at their joined hands, "Sorry about the mud, Ma'am." He pulled a crumpled old paper towel out of his pocket and clumsily tried to wipe her hand. Lucy couldn't suppress a loud laugh, "You're alright, Pete." A bit of a blush rose up in his cheeks, visible though the dirt. Jackson chuckled and slapped Pete on the back. "I think you're in, pal." *** Pete wasted no time diving into questions as they sat down at the large dining table. "I gotta wonder, Ma'am, how the hell does a Turned wolf become an Alpha?" Jackson stilled, unsure of her reaction to such bluntness. Lucy was certainly strong and learning quickly, but she was still a very young wolf. It would be a while before she could be expected to keep her wolf's emotions 100% under control. Let alone Alpha wolf emotions. He felt a wave of relief when he heard the sound of his mate's laughter. "I really can't say, Pete. There's a lot about this that I still don't understand." Jackson had to admit, Lucy was handling Pete rather well. The thing about Pete was that he cherished the simple life. He valued honesty above all things. This house, the fancy furnishings, and expensive trinkets- none of that impressed him. Jackson could always trust Pete to tell him exactly what he thought. Which had occasionally been a problem over the years. Over time, their alliance and friendship had faded little by little. But Jackson saw this as a prime opportunity to get the two packs back on solid ground. "How long did she sleep, DeLane?" Pete referring to the period of sleep new wolves underwent after the Turning. The longer the sleep, the stronger the wolf, the story went. "About 5 days." Jackson replied, obvious pride in his voice. "Well I'll be damned. Shit, that's amazing." Pete took a bite of the very rare steak (some might have called it raw) that had been placed in front of him. He started his next question with the beef still rolling around on his tongue, "So how's this whole thing working out?" He gestured to the pair, "Two Alphas?" Lucy cocked an eyebrow at Jackson, daring him to answer the question. He took a deep breath before he spoke, very aware that his answer could throw a wrench in his plans for later tonight with his mate. plans. "I find things are going well. The pack here seems to fully support Lucy and her position. Actually, I heard from Hank when I returned this afternoon that she exceeded everyone's expectations in my absence." Jackson looked over fondly at her. The visiting Alpha shoved another piece of meat in his mouth and interjected, "Yeah, good thing I guess. It's not every day that an Alpha just up and abandons his pack like that." Pete's tone was pointed. A loud growl came from Lucy. Jackson tried to tell her through their bond to brush it off. It was a pretty fair comment, after all. The Madam Alpha was having none of it. "Yeah, good thing they still had an Alpha here. Or did you forget?" She spat aggressively. "By the way, Pete- is your pack really so fragile that they couldn't manage such a short time without you? Tell me, what do the Marshalls do when you take a shit?" The room erupted in loud howls of laughter. "You're alright, Lucy," Pete echoed back her earlier statement with a sincere smile. He turned to Jackson, "She's a firecracker, DeLane. You got a good one here." Jackson nodded, "Don't I know it." A sudden drop in Pete's face alerted Jackson to a drastic change in the mood of the room. Pete's eyes burned towards the entrance to the dining room with laser focus. Lucy said something to him, but Jackson could tell that Pete wouldn't have heard her even if she had shouted at the top of her lungs. Pete's eyes glowed brightly as he stood from the table. Jackson felt the presence of one of his packmates walking into the room long before he saw them. lot , Jackson thought to his mate as the wolf walked through the door. "Hey everybody, sorry I'm late." Pete lunged at the incoming wolf, jaws open wide.

I hope to manage to post chapters of my story but the frequency will depend on the demands that my mother's illness puts on the entire family. Thanks for all the comments left on both ETC and TLAS. I look forward to future comments. MYGYPSY * It's been a long tiring day. The muscles in my upper back and shoulders ache from using a spud bar and shovel to dig holes for the large corner posts on a fence line. I frown as I walk through the quarters towards the bathroom. For the last two months Wade has had me on every hard physical job or demeaning task he could find or invent. For the three weeks prior to that I had been recovering from being whipped. My only comfort was the fact that in those three weeks of recovery time, Wade had taken care not to have Edwin and his team at the compound or in the quarters. That and the fact I wasn't demoted from my position as chief warrior. I was surprised when Wade didn't object to Rosy being allowed to 'escape'. But he took exception to my statement that it was my decision to make and that the other warriors present at the time were in no way responsible for my decision. The entire truth came out when Wade announced I was to be whipped for deciding Rosy would be allowed to escape without asking his opinion or permission. Surprisingly it was Edwin who stepped forward on my behalf stating that all of the warriors were in on the decision. Steven, Sam and Dwayne confirmed it, as did the others when Wade looked their way. My whipping consisted of twelve lashes, two lashes for each warrior who had been here. I received the first lash because I lied - each warrior was consulted and encouraged to give their opinion before I made the final decision. The second lash was for trying to take full responsibility and cover for each warrior. I was instructed I was not to change form until my body healed, which meant the pain and stiffness would remain much longer than if I shifted. The day after my flogging Wade visited me in the quarters where I was temporarily laid up. He explained that only an Alpha could assume responsibility for another werecat and protect them from any punishment. As chief warrior I over stepped my bounds and challenged his authority as my Alpha, hence the harsh punishment. Understanding Wade's reasons for my punishment erased the resentment I felt at the time of punishment and gave me a clearer understanding of his position over this. I can see how I left him with no other recourse but to set such harsh punishment. I challenged his authority. Yes I'd had the best of intentions at the time, but still the fact remained I challenged the authority of my Alpha. He told me he was aware of the friction between Edwin and me, our subtle struggles for dominance. He didn't want to demote me and reinstate Edwin as chief warrior as everything was handled much smoother and there were fewer arguments in the ranks while I was in charge. I am thankful for the support Wade showed me by ensuring Edwin would not be able to challenge me for dominance while I was recovering from the punishment. Knowing he still held my leadership of his warriors in such high respect buoyed my spirits. Wade's confidence and support mean a lot to me. I want to serve my Alpha and clan to the best of my abilities. Hearing I have his approval and support makes me proud of the quality of work I have performed for them. I am pulled from my thoughts as I hear Jazzy following me along the sunroom and I glance over my shoulder at her to see a determined look on her face. "You won't be long in the shower will you Micah," Jazzy asks just before I shut the bathroom door, and I turn around to smile at her. She is dressed in slim legged jeans and a tight t-shirt. I realise suddenly how much she has grown up lately. "You got something special cooking, kitten," I ask with a fond smile. "I want to go for a moonlight run and I want my favourite bossy brother there as well," Jazzy says with a wide grin. "Oh I don't know," I tease her, "I'm pretty tired. Wade has been working me hard lately." "I made caramel tarts," Jazzy says with a smile. "And I made an extra one just so you can have one all to yourself." "Not trying to bribe me are you," I ask with a lazy smile as I prop my elbow on the doorpost beside me. "I might be," Jazzy giggles, "but if you don't want to come I could sneak off with Mitchell all by myself ..." She smiles coyly and there is a mischievous look in her eyes as she goes to turn away. "Go and let me have my shower you little minx, or you'll have to wait until midnight before I'm ready to change and go for that run." I say with a laugh. I shut the door and turn the shower on, adjusting the water before beginning to undress. I am washing the last of the soap from my back when I hear the unmistakeable sound of my mobile phone. I pause a moment, then decide that if it is important whoever is calling will ring back. I turn back to my shower and reach for the shampoo before ducking my head beneath the spray. When I do turn the water off and step out of the shower cubicle I dry off and pull clean clothes on before reaching for my mobile where it sits on the chair beside the sink. I check for missed calls and give a slight smile as I see Baxter's name come up. I am returning the missed call when I head out for the lounge room and grin when I hear the familiar voice on the other end of the line as he answers his phone. "Hi Baxter, you called," I say as I head into the kitchen to grab a cold beer from the fridge. "Yeah I called Micah," Baxter says gruffly. "I got a bit of news you might be interested in. Today when I was on my lunch hour I happened to see a werecat dressed up like a human and walking around town as happy as pie. Well maybe not that happy but she was there large as day." "What's going on," I ask with a worried frown. "Cat sightings? Livestock kills?" "No, no nothing like that," Baxter says reassuringly. "Although I am sure this one could be trouble if she wanted to be. Slender blonde with long hair, moves like liquid silk. No werecat would mistake her for anything other than a cat. Obviously in good health but she seemed a mite jumpy. I just gave her her own space." "You sure about that Baxter," I demand and notice that Steven has gotten to his feet in the lounge room and is not far from the connecting doorway and he divides his attention between the tv and me as I open my beer. "I double checked with that sketch that was dropped in here a while back. I got a good look at her face from a bit of a distance and there's no mistake - it's that little she-kitt yous had there not too long back," Baxter confirms confidently. "That's really great news Baxter. Umm you had better let Wade know what you saw," I say as I clench my jaw to stop myself giving a loud celebratory yell over the confirmed sighting of Rosy from a reliable source. "I don't think you'd want him thinking you're not loyal to him, that you thought it was more important that I know she seems to be coping." "I saw the look in your eye when you were here, boy. Talk to you again," Baxter says before hanging up. "There trouble," Steven asks as I take a large plate of food from the oven and head for the lounge room carrying the plate and my beer. "No," I say as I walk past Dwayne where he sits watching Sam and Mitchell playing some combat game on the play station. He glances my way before turning his attention back to the game being played. "Pause that game for a few moments, you lot," I say loudly. Sam pauses the game and looks over his shoulder at me with a slight frown. Dwayne and Mitchell look my way as well as Donny and Jazzy who are sitting on the floor near Mitchell. "Just had a positive sighting of Rosy phoned in," I say evenly. "She was in the town where Baxter Barnes lives. Seemed ok, sort of passed as a human but he didn't go near her," I relay the information to them. "Rosy was in town, she really seemed ok," Mitchell questions anxiously as he shares a hopeful look with his brother. "She was when Baxter saw her today," I confirm. "Why didn't he go say hallo," Jazzy asks. "Baxter is as large as your brother. Rosy would probably take one look at him, make him for a cat and panic," Steven explains calmly. "I like her. I want her to come back," Donovan says unhappily. "We all like her Donny," Dwayne says softly. "You're not the only one who would like her to come back Donny," Sam tells him quietly. "Hurry up and eat Micah," Jazzy orders suddenly, "I want to go hunting." I catch the glance she gives Mitchell and realise that tonight Dwayne and I will be keeping a close watch on our little sister. I sit in my favourite chair and Jazzy moves to sit beside my legs, leaning against me as she continues to watch the game and cheer Mitchell on. "Did you have to mention Rosy? Mitchell just started to stop worrying about her all the time this last week or so," Jazzy says a touch wistfully. "I want him to stop worrying and start thinking about me again." "Miss Jasmine," I say softly as I reach down and squeeze one of her shoulders gently, "you don't stop thinking about someone just because no one mentions their name. If you care about them, they're never far from your mind." Jazzy turns and looks over her shoulder at me thoughtfully before getting to her feet and taking my nearly empty plate. "Do you want your caramel tart now or after the run," Jazzy asks. "Half now, half later. And I can get it, you sit down," I tell her getting to my feet, reclaiming my plate from her and heading for the kitchen. I hear her following me and I am not surprised when she leans against the bench beside me as I help myself to dessert. "Donna phoned me today," Jazzy says casually. "She asked how you are, if you're seeing anyone else." "I hope you didn't encourage her Jazzy," I say as I look at her. "That would only be cruel. Donna deserves a tom who is in love with her." "I'm not a little kitt anymore Micah," Jazzy scolds slightly as she glances towards the lounge room. The distant sound of a vehicle turning into the driveway catches my attention and I leave my plate with dessert on it on the bench as I use the small kitchen door to look out towards the driveway. "Edwin and his team are back," I call as I come back to claim my food after identifying the vehicle. "Oh good," Jazzy says with a smile, "Timny and Malcolm will be here too." "You be careful little girl," I warn her, "those two are a lot older than you." "Well you better make sure you don't get left behind then," Jazzy laughs teasingly. "Behave or I'll take you over to the main house and tell Marissa you need to be locked in your room," I say with a laugh before heading back to sit down and enjoy my favourite dessert. * * * * * I reverse the ute and trailer into the shed before putting the vehicle into park and turning the engine off. I pull the hand break on before getting out and checking how close I had gotten the double load of lucerne seed and slow release fertiliser to the pallets where they would be stacked. "Perfect parking," Steven comments as he comes to stand beside me. "Give me a hand unloading this will you," I ask as I pull on a pair of leather gloves as protection from any fertiliser on the outside of the bags. "Sure," Steven agrees and moves to the back of the ute to begin unloading the seed while I head for the fertiliser. "Pete's here," Steven informs me with a grunt as he picks up a bag of seed. "Yeah," I say tossing a bag into place on several others I have unloaded. "I noticed his car." "He came for the weekend and to do some hunting," Steven says sounding too casual and I wonder where this conversation is going. "There a point to this or you just wasting breath," I ask. I'd prefer to get the bags unloaded as quickly as possible. When there is no reply from Steven I stop what I am doing to look at him. He has a wide grin on his face and I frown in annoyance. "Pete got a phone call just before we went hunting goats for lunch," Steven says with a delighted laugh. "You get three guesses as to who has surfaced again. The first two don't count." Who would have Steven grinning like a Cheshire Cat? "Rosy! It was Rosy wasn't it," I demand as my heart starts pounding. "Yeah and it sounded like she's starting to get herself sorted," Steven says still grinning. "Add the call to Baxter's sighting a month, nearly two back and we did the right thing." "One confirmed sighting and one phone call in just over five months ..." I trail off what I am saying as the fact that she has voluntarily made contact with another werecat sinks in. "I wonder how long before she calls again," I muse as I resume unloading the bags. "What is it with you and Edwin? Both so sure she'll be calling again," Steven mutters as he returns to unloading the seed. "Why wouldn't she," I ask with a glance his way. "Well when Pete told her he was here, she didn't sound too happy and when he asked if she wanted to speak to anyone else she cut the call short and hung up," Steven tells me soberly. "She has been out there for a long time without voluntarily having anything to do with another cat. No, no just listen a moment," I cut Steven off when he goes to speak. "Yes she had contact with your brother during that time, but how much of it was merely blending into the human world back then? Know your neighbour, get on with them -- that kind of thing." "We have to remember she's been abused by a lot of stray toms," I say after a few moments pause. "She barely knows us and no stray trusts a cat they don't know, at least no stray I've come across. Plus her cat instincts are finely honed. Interacting with us could be going against the survival skills she learnt." "You got a good point there," Steven concedes, "but we never hurt her." I shake my head in disbelief and take my gloves off to knock the dust out of them against the side of the trailer for a few moments. "She has been drugged several times, had her wrist crushed, been forcibly restrained and had no choice but to stay here when she was severely stressed. It hasn't been all fun and games for her," I point out. "I went over and over it in my mind. She also lost Alex, who she identified as hers, and also her kitts. I don't think she could handle losing so much along with everything else happening." "Damn," Steven swears and kicks at the hard packed floor of the shed. "Then there's Mitchell, Sam and even Dwayne," I say quietly. "She felt a strong attachment to them, probably still does." "She did seem quite fond of them, didn't she," Steven muses. "It is possible she knows nothing of the strong bonds that form between she-kitts and their protectors -- usually brothers and cousins," I point out. We return to unloading the ute and trailer, finishing just before dark. I head towards the quarters and Steven follows. Once we are out of the shadows he races past with a laugh. "Race you!" I sprint after him, slowly catching up despite his head start; he only just reaches the door ahead of me and is laughing as he runs inside. "You're getting slow these days partner," Steven yells back at me. The chase woke my natural instinct to hunt and I follow him through the hallway quickly. He takes one glance back over his shoulder at me and dodges into the lounge room away from several others as he turns to face me. I take him down with a flying tackle and I hear him grunt as he hits the floor heavily. I growl as I try to get a hold on him but he twists and turns trying to escape me. I become aware of Donny yelling encouragement as we wrestle on the lounge room floor. Finally I pin him face down and twist one of his arms up behind his back hard enough to make him stop struggling but not hard enough to make him admit defeat. I release him and stand up cautiously; I glance around and see everyone watching us. Sam grins as he steps forward and I bare my teeth in a savage smile as I silently accept the challenge. We circle each other warily and then I launch my attack. We grapple silently for a few seconds before we both back off and circle again. He takes me down onto the floor with a cheap shot that knocks both feet from beneath me; I remind myself that Sam is an experienced fighter. He is not above using dirty moves if that is what he needs to do to take down a larger opponent. I roll towards him catching him off guard but he still manages to avoid being pinned. I grit my teeth as I try to force him from his feet and he locks both arms around one of my forearms. He resists a few moments before using my momentum to try to flip over my shoulder and gain a grip on me from behind. I am expecting his move and counter, only just managing to avoid a hold that would have given him a heavy advantage. After a few minutes we back away to catch our breaths and Sam steps forward with a grin as he offers his hand. I shake his hand as I return the good-natured grin and slap him on the shoulder. We move out of the way and I am not surprised when Mitchell steps towards Dwayne with a serious face. I am surprised when Dwayne laughs off the first shove but when Mitchell doesn't back away I realise this is more than sparring for fun; Mitchell clearly intends to prove a point. Mitchell is quick as he moves tossing Dwayne before he can regain his feet after each throw. I grimace as Dwayne snarls and goes after Mitchell. He tackles the younger tom and when he goes to pin him, Mitchell somehow manages to reverse it. There is silence as Dwayne is pinned and Mitchell holds him down breathing heavily. After a minute or so he lets him go and moves away cautiously. There is silence as Dwayne gets to his feet. He faces Mitchell for a moment then launches an attack that takes them both to the floor. I glance at Sam and he glances my way. I motion towards several mattresses scattered around the floor and Sam nods. The mattresses are moved out of the way and we all stand around watching the action. The deep pile shag carpet offers some padding but the solid thuds of the throws can be heard clearly. There are several startled remarks when Mitchell pins Dwayne and Dwayne is unable to break free. Mitchell holds long enough to enforce the point before letting go and stepping away. I watch, ready to intervene as Dwayne gets to his feet. He is watching Mitchell with clenched jaws but steps forward extending his hand. Mitchell eyes him cautiously before accepting the handshake. When the handshake ends Dwayne steps away and gives his hand a shake before placing it in his armpit with a grimace. Mitchell is clenching and unclenching his hand. Steven steps towards Mitchell and I am relieved when Mitchell quickly drops his eyes submissively. Mitchell moving up over both Timny and Dwayne in rank in one change is enough. The atmosphere is slightly tense making me loathe to leave the room but I look to my second-in-command and Sam makes his way to my side. "You wanted me," Sam asks quietly. "I want to go clean up," I tell him. "Keep an eye on things here would you." I glance from Steven to Sam and back again, both give a nod and I head for the shower. The atmosphere is still tense when I return to that end of the quarters and I make my way over to Dwayne. "Everything ok," I ask quietly. "Yeah, I'll survive," Dwayne says dismissively and I give a faint nod as I fold my arms across my chest and remain beside him silently for a few minutes. I can guess it smarts to lose rank to a younger, immature tom but Dwayne is still my older brother and one of my best warriors. "We need another warrior," Dwayne says casually. "You want another partner," I ask as I glance at him. "We need the man power on the ground," Dwayne says. "We are running the chance of ending up exhausted if there is a sudden rise in stray numbers or trouble of some kind." I nod as I consider his remark; it's true we need more warriors to rest anyone over worked or replace those carrying injuries. "You got anyone in mind you would like to work with," I ask him. I notice that Pete is talking quietly with Steven and I frown as it occurs to me that Steven has no blood family here at the compound. Close as we are, I know there is no replacement for the closeness that can only be shared by family members. "Justin has been joining in sparring with me lately. He wants me to ask you and Wade about him becoming a warrior," Dwayne says quietly. "I would have thought it would be Donny wanting to join in the fighting," I say amused. "No, Donny wants to study law," Dwayne tells me. "Justin is pretty good too." "You wouldn't want someone with a lot more experience," I ask glancing at him. "Justin gets mad easily but he keeps his head," Dwayne says and gives a faint shrug. "I suppose if you don't want him working under you I can think of several toms who might consider coming here to work." "It's your choice," I say dismissively. "You are the one who would be his partner." "Well he listens and is a good solid fighter," Dwayne says with a nod. "I guess I better speak to Wade then," I announce knowing Wade would want my approval of Justin joining one of the teams and it is ultimately a decision I must put to Wade as Alpha for his approval. "What do you think of Robby Inness and Mikkarl Willoughby," I ask because I value Dwayne's opinion. He is the second oldest of the warriors and is an astute judge of character. "From what Maurice Donnelly, who they are working for at present has said, they make one hell of an effective team," Dwayne admits. "Don't know Mikkarl and don't like Robby. There's something about that tom - not sly, more shifty." "Robby isn't like either Chris nor Malcolm, that's true," I admit, "and what I remember of Mikkarl as a youngster, he was a handful for his parents to control. Maybe Dave Black and Drew Dorrington would be a good team to have here." "I don't know that Kurt would let them go," Dwayne remarks as Sam joins us. "What do you think Sam? Do you think Kurt Black would let his son Dave and Drew Dorrington work for another Alpha?" "Drew recently went to work for Alan Cummings. Seems Cummings got rid of a couple of toms who are rumoured to have gotten a local girl pregnant. She didn't name just one single guy she had been with; apparently she was supposedly seeing both of them at the same time," Sam tells us. "Wonderful - another child to be kept a watch on. Warriors should know better," I exclaim in annoyance. "What about Dave? Has he got a new partner yet?' Sam glances at Dwayne before answering. "I believe so. You looking for a partner now?" "I got someone in mind," Dwayne says with a shrug. "We were talking about adding another two toms," I tell him. "There's a few looking to move to new jobs," Sam says, "Danny and Mick Francis, Patrick and Neil Baxter at the moment." "What do you think of Robby Inness and Mikkarl Willoughby," I ask. "Damn good team; both of them are easy to get along with and Mikkarl is said to be a real good cook," Sam says. "Don't know if they're looking to change jobs." "Food's cooked - come and get it," Timny calls from the kitchen. "Wow, we got here just in time for tea," Donny yells as the screen door is allowed to slam and I hear hurried steps in the hallway. Justin follows Donny into the room and both head for the kitchen where most of the warriors are helping themselves to food. Dwayne signals to Justin to stop when he goes to pass us and Justin glances between us curiously. "You want something," Justin asks as he looks at Dwayne. "I mentioned to Micah how you've been doing a bit of sparring with me lately when I work out," Dwayne tells him evenly. Justin looks my way and I am surprised at the maturity in his gaze as he meets my eyes squarely. "Dwayne suggested you might be interested in becoming a warrior," I say evenly. "I'm very interested in becoming a warrior," Justin confirms. "I'll be talking to Wade in the next day or two," I tell him. "I don't know how he is likely to feel about it." A disturbance in the kitchen catches my attention as Malcolm and Pete argue over the end cut of roast; Steven heads their way and I turn my attention back to Dwayne and Justin. "Is that Rosy," Mitchell asks sounding very strained. I look his way at her name, but he is distracted, looking at Pete like he is about to rush at him when I hear her slightly tinny sounding disembodied voice. I realise with surprise that her voice is coming from the phone Pete holds as Mitchell hurriedly talks to her. There is a very reserved sound to her voice but it disappears after Donny calls out to her asking if she still has her spots. I join in the conversation speaking to Donny but not directly to Rosy. She sounds tense and uncomfortable. I want to grab Edwin and shake him when he flirts with her, making her laugh and sound more relaxed. I find myself talking to her and we can hear her moving around. She says she has a place to live and I am glad to know she feels secure enough to admit it. Too soon she is ending the conversation and then the line goes dead. Her last words were to Mitchell wanting him with her. My inner cat bristles angrily. We want, we need more than the knowledge she is alive. We need to know she is doing more than existing; we need to know she will be all right. * * * * * I expected Wade to give some resistance to Justin becoming a warrior but he was in full support of Justin's desire to become a warrior and gave his permission without delay. That piece of news had been the only bright spot in my day. The tractor being used to turn the mown grass so it could dry before bailing as hay developed a grinding when changing gears. It sounded as if there was something wrong with the clutch so that meant I had to help Sam and Mitchell take the gearbox out of the tractor. We finally finish wrestling with reluctant bolts and have the tractor pulled apart when Steven arrives on one of the quad bikes with an esky that I assume holds our lunches. "Don't everyone smile at once," Steven says as he gets off the bike. His smile nearly splits his face in half and I grimace as I glance his way. "There better be food in that esky," Sam says flatly and Steven raises his eyebrows at him. "Why bother with food," Steven asks brightly. "I only brought it out here to pacify Jazzy. She was worried Mitchell would faint from hunger." I open the esky and lift out a container that is foggy with steam; I let out a sigh of satisfaction at the aroma that escapes as I open the lid to reveal thick chunky stew. "So do you want the gossip before or after you eat," Steven asks brightly. "Tell us while we eat," Sam growls then begins shovelling stew into his mouth. He alternates between the stew and mouthfuls of crusty bread. "One of you would choke for sure," Steven laughs. "I don't know the Heimlich thing and I ain't doing mouth to mouth." I stop eating to frown at my partner; something has put him in extremely high spirits. Steven glances between us and I guess the other two are watching him as well because he gives a satisfied smirk. "Wade got a phone call from Baxter Barnes; he saw Rosy in town for a second time. Was close enough to speak to her, but she didn't speak to him just watched him suspiciously. She looked healthy and was buying up on food," Steven announces. "That means she is probably somewhere in the Border Ranges National Park," Sam is quick to say. Even as Sam says it I realise this would be the most likely place she is. The National Park is within easy distance of Nimbin where Baxter lives. "But that's No Man's Land," Mitchell says distressed. "The land there would suit her down to a T," I say slowly and the others turn their heads to look at me. "A lot of heavy cover, remote, very few people. A lot of small game, natural water sources." "Practically no other werecats around," Steven adds after nearly a minute. "She probably was surprised to find out Baxter was there in town." I barely listen to the talk between the others as I eat my food. My mind is working over time and the more I think about Rosy the more I feel like I am missing something important. "I said," Sam says stressing the words and I look at him to find him watching me, "Mitchell and I can handle the repairs on the tractor from here if you need to go and take care of other things." "Yeah," I say, "yeah I might as well head back. I am sure there are things that need my attention." "We can go and check to see if Edwin and his team finished replacing those posts along the western side of the front paddock," Steven says sounding like he expects them to be still working. "Sure," I agree vaguely, "I want to stop by the quarters and check something out first." When we have all finished eating, I help pack away the used containers and change over the nearly empty water bottle for a full cold bottle from the esky. With a quick check that both Sam and Mitchell have fully charged mobile phones I help Steven fasten the esky in place before I climb on the dirt bike I had ridden out here. The ride back to the main buildings is quick and I take note of the condition of the crops in the paddocks as we pass. At the quarters I head inside and get my work diary from where I left it in my beside drawer unit. I flick back through the pages looking for something. Not sure what I am looking for I carefully scan my notes until I come to the entry where I record returning home to find Rosy here the second time. Sure I have noted something important, I carefully read each entry. The date Pete captured her - Doc's concerns on her state of mind, her pregnancy. I stop as I come to the page where I recorded Alex's death and suddenly it hits me. The chain of events starts to fall into place in my mind, each one leading to the next event connecting it all together. I skim forward to my note of Rosy having lost her kitts and check the date; I silently count the months forward and grin as the last piece of the puzzle falls into place. Rosy wanted Mitchell with her when she said goodbye, she wanted to go hunting, wanted to talk to us even though she had been hesitant. "That's it," I exclaim aloud. "What's it," Steven asks from the doorway. "The phone calls! I know why Rosy needed to talk to Pete," I say as I put the diary back in its place and turn to face Steven. I listen for a few moments but there is no sound to say anyone else is in the quarters. "It is getting close to six months since Rosy lost her kitts," I say and can't stop myself licking my lips in anticipation as I run a hand back through my hair. "She's on heat," Steven exclaims excitedly. "She didn't sound like it the other night," I tell him, "But maybe her cat is getting restless." "Damn! She asked for Sam, Edwin and Mitchell's numbers. Think she'll call one of them when she is on heat," Steven asks. "Shit!" he exclaims as his eyes widen and he clenches his jaw before speaking again. "That is why Edwin was in such a good mood earlier! He's been counting months, he's guessed as well." "Maybe your brother will get a taste of the good life real soon," I say and can't help feeling the anger that rises in my cat. "That is if Rosy has worked out none of us are like the strays she has come across." "Shit! I hadn't thought of that," Steven says and a slow grin spreads across his face. "I think I better warn Pete. He might need to get supplies in so there is no ..." I frown as his voice trails off but I know what he is thinking, and what he means, and I have to agree with him. Especially after the way Rosy prepared to end her pregnancy, I didn't want to hear she panicked and ended up harming herself because she became pregnant again. "How about we go check up on Edwin and his team," I ask. "Edwin is probably dragging the job out as long as he can." "Bikes," Steven asks as he heads out into the sunroom. "Might as well," I agree as I follow him. The ride out to the fence line where Edwin and his team are working passes quickly and I am surprised to find the group packing away tools as Steven and I stop our bikes. "Finished," I ask as Edwin turns around and looks in our direction. "Yeah, we have a bit of a problem," Edwin announces as he walks over to us. "There are plenty of signs further along the fence showing we have pigs running around. I was just about to send Timny and Chris back with the jeep while Malcolm and I took our bikes to see if we could find them, get an idea of what we are dealing with." "Good idea," I agree. "Steven and I will go along with you pair. Never can be too careful as far as wild pigs go." "The ground is pretty torn up in several spots, so either there are quite a few pigs or they were finding plenty of food," Malcolm answers as he walks over to join us. "Well we better make plans to clean them out. Justin, Donny and Jazzy have been wanting to go hunting every chance they get lately," I say with a worried frown. "It's about time we started taking Justin with us every time we go hunting," Edwin says firmly. "We need to make sure there are no big boars first," I say as I meet his eyes. I give him a firm look to remind him who is the head warrior causing him to look away before I glance at Malcolm and Steven. "I spoke to Wade this morning," I say and Edwin glances back at me. "Justin will be joining the warriors; Dwayne wants him as a partner." "It's about time," Edwin says tightly. "Justin should have been brought in after Alex died." I look at Edwin amazed by his insensitivity; Dwayne had needed time to get over the loss of his partner and brother. We all formed close bonds with our partners, becoming closer than mere brothers. We rely on them to watch our backs when we work; we trust them with our lives and losing someone so close was a terrible blow for a warrior. "We better keep an eye open for any heavily pregnant sow or one with young piglets," Steven breaks in and I glance towards him glad of the interruption. "Yeah," Malcolm agrees, "can't have our newest warrior getting injured before he starts working." "Hopefully there will be plenty of half to three-quarters grown piglets so we can have a decent hunt to celebrate Justin joining the ranks," I say as a lighter mood grips me. "Well there are plenty of tracks left behind," Edwin says and I am glad to notice he doesn't seem intent on turning things into an argument. "Any special instructions," Chris calls from the jeep and I look over to where he and Timny are ready to head back to the buildings. "Yeah," I say and hear the low-pitched growl that comes from Edwin about my authority over his team. "Tell Wade what you guys found so he can make sure no-one comes out this way without knowing the possible danger. Let him know us four are going to take a closer look to see what pigs are there and we should be able to figure out the best course of action between us." I turn my head to look at Edwin and he is watching me with obvious anger. "You got any special orders for your warriors," I ask. "Get Sam and Mitchell back to the quarters. We'll need to go after the pigs this afternoon otherwise they could catch our scent and scatter," Edwin orders. "Yeah I agree the pigs are more important than the tractor," I say when Chris and Timny glance at me for confirmation. I watch as they drive off at Edwin's nod and then head towards the bikes. All four of us start our bikes and Edwin leads the way to where they found the signs of the pigs. We follow the trail they left until Edwin slows and halts his bike. We stop behind him and he gives the hand signal that tells me he wants us to leave the bikes here and move forward on foot. I turn my bike off and leave my helmet hanging from the handlebars as I move to stand beside where Edwin is standing by his bike. He points to a patch of disturbed soil not far ahead of us. "That was disturbed not too long ago. The top hasn't dried out totally," He says as he sniffs the air. I follow his example and the pungent odour of pig urine and faeces becomes obvious. The four of us begin following the torn up earth on foot, and half a mile further on we come to a small cleared flat in between two medium sized hills. A small creek runs down one side of the flat and along the edges in the lush green growth is the mob of pigs. The vast majority of them are white with several black pigs mixed among them. The black ones predominantly have the white belt around their bodies just behind their front shoulders that give the breed the name Saddleback. "There's a big boar over by the reeds on this side of the creek," Malcolm whispers quietly and I focus on the area he mentioned. I soon spot the huge male pig digging in the rich soil beside the water as he creates himself a mud wallow. I see one large sow clearly pregnant not far from the boar; I note she is nearly all black with only a white blaze on her face. "Big black sow with the white on her face is pregnant," I remark. Grunting and squealing breaks out below us and for a moment I am worried we have been discovered until two saddlebacks emerge from the trees on the far side of the creek. They wade across the creek and join the mob amid noisy squealing. The front pig stops and the second much larger one rushes to mount it on this side of the creek. "Randy bastard," Malcolm laughs and I glance at him to see him looking at Edwin who is scowling as he watches the pigs. As the pigs around the mating pair move I notice several clearly pregnant females and the rest of the group appears to be made up of juvenile pigs. I hear Steven shift beside me and glance his way; he meets my eyes and grins before looking back at the pigs. I frown as I realise he is probably thinking that his brother Pete could be getting lucky about now as well. "I make it two large males and five, possibly six mature females," I say quietly. "I like them odds much better," Edwin growls beneath his breath as he spares each of us a glance. I hold his gaze as it connects with mine so that he is aware that I know exactly what he is thinking about. He flushes angrily and I can't prevent the smile that forms before I turn my attention back to the pigs. * * * * * I turn my head to watch as Wade walks to the front of the group gathered at the top of the hill. Dwayne is impatient to start the hunt and it shows as he lashes his tail from side to side. Edwin stands not far behind our father and it strikes me how similar their builds are in cat form. They both have the thick, heavy, shoulders and neck of an older tomcat. I know Edwin's frame is packed with muscle and as he turns his head to glance my way I see the calculating intelligence in his eyes. Malcolm walks up beside him to peer at the pigs along the riverbank below. A sensation of movement on my other side and I glance that way to see Sam and Mitchell side by side as they stand in the cover of shadows cast by thick trees as they study the prey below. I feel Steven brush against my tail as he moves around behind me and I don't need to look to know he has moved into position by my left shoulder. Wade gives a soft grunt and all eight of us slink forward to move down the brush-covered hill stealthily. We move into our pre-determined positions in pairs, Dwayne paired with Wade so neither misses out on this exciting hunt. All except Mitchell are large heavy cats, but what he lacks in size he makes up for in sheer savage ability during the kill. Mitchell has obtained his full size but still is a good two inches shorter in height than his brother while in cat form. But to look at him in both cat and human form he appears much larger than what he is in reality. I have heard Wade frequently refer to Mitchell as a large cat in a medium sized body, and I agree with the sentiment. Steven and I are not far from the large saddleback boar while Edwin and Malcolm are matched against the large white boar. The other four are positioned where they can make a rush for the mature pregnant sows. Edwin makes the first move launching the attack as he lunges for the front shoulder of the boar as it turns away. Pigs squeal and rush into the water. My claws find their purchase in the back of the boar as I go for a neck bite. I can feel the rear of the pig go down and know that Steven has achieved his objective of crippling a back leg. I am almost thrown clear of the beast as a large female crashes into the other side of the boar. I try for another bite hold on the boar's neck and feel the beast surge forward as he drops his head and lunges. I feel my teeth sink into flesh and blood oozes into my mouth. There is resistance as my teeth find bones and I bite down hard. I feel the snap of breaking bone and the large body beneath me shudders. A scream of pain reaches my brain and I brace myself as I shake my head like a dog. Every instinct screams at me to release my prey and rush to the aide of my clan mate but I know I must ensure this large boar is unable to injure anyone. I hear Wade, Sam and Edwin roar with rage and I am able to release the dead pig. His neck is broken and only my hold was keeping him on his front feet. I glance around looking to see who needs help. Mitchell has a death grip on the black sow while Sam and Wade are on the far side of her facing off against a huge black feral boar, commonly referred to as a razorback. Edwin and Malcolm are busy finishing off their boar and I know Steven is somewhere close behind me. That leaves only Dwayne unaccounted for. I see Edwin rush away from the downed boar and launch himself on the back of the razorback as it makes a charge at Sam and Wade. Both of them meet the charge headlong and I realise that Dwayne is down injured somewhere behind them as Mitchell is trying to drag the dying sow forward and away from the fight. All this takes only an instant to register and then I am charging towards the melee from a side angle as I skirt the others. I hit the razorback on the side of his front shoulder and my weight knocks him off course. I am aware of Edwin securing a grip high on the back of the pig's neck just in front of the massive shoulder muscles as the pig starts to go down beneath our combined weights. I claw at the far side of the face hooking my claws in deeply as I secure a hold to stop the pig moving towards Dwayne or falling on Edwin who is hanging from his far side. I feel my muscles writhing under the strain; the razorback is larger than me and nearly half as heavy as me again. It is no easy feat to hold him on his feet but somehow I manage with the help of Wade and possibly Sam and Steven. I feel the razorback stiffen then slowly begin to sink down onto his chest and stomach. I don't slacken my grip until I feel the last movement of his chest cease and then I release my hold ready to grab on once again at a moment's notice. I can hear Wade grunting heavily with concern and when I am sure that the feral pig is dead I turn to look behind us. Dwayne is down on the ground on his side changing back to human form from cat form. Blood mars what had been his left front shoulder. It is smeared on his side as if he has been pushed around violently. Wade is standing over him grunting and chuffing as he sniffs above the injury, careful not to touch Dwayne. Edwin moves to Wade's side grunting and giving cough like calls as he sniffs at the corner of Wade's mouth and then at Dwayne. I move closer and sniff at Dwayne's legs and lower stomach while he finishes changing. I can smell blood and fear and pain. I raise my head and curl my lips back as I draw air into my open mouth tasting it as I read the messages it carries. The injury is not serious, painful and temporarily debilitating, but nothing more serious. I give a deep grunt and look to Wade. "What are your orders?" "Make it safe," he chuffs and turns his attention back to Dwayne. I glance around as I begin a drawn out coughing call and all the warriors except for Edwin and Dwayne look at me expectantly. I jerk my chin towards where the remaining pigs fled and lead off at a steady trot. The fight could not have lasted more than thirty seconds yet it seems like hours have passed. I know that the pigs will have run fast for a distance before they begin to slow down. We will soon catch up with them and then we will finish removing all the mature pigs. Over the next week or ten days we will systematically scour the surrounding land to ensure we get rid of all of the pigs. Even half grown pigs can do extensive damage in the nearby National Park and will grow to become dangerous to our vulnerable members. * * * * * I prowl the quarters restlessly. Steven is in the lounge room sprawled on the floor playing solitaire while Edwin and Malcolm are in their room with their heads together muttering about something. I walk from my room out to the lounge room and pause as I watch Steven calmly playing cards. I growl low in my throat before heading to the kitchen and opening the fridge to stare into it without actually seeing what it holds. "Pacing is not going to make her ask for someone, you know," Steven says lightly from where he sits. I slam the fridge door and stalk back to the lounge room to glare at Steven. He barely glances up from the cards before going back to studying them. "I still can't get over the fact Rosy wanted Pete to bring her here," Steven says evenly. "I can't believe I acted like an arsehole," I snarl as I fling myself into my favourite chair and stretch my legs out in front of me restlessly. "All you did was flirt with her," Steven points out reasonably. "And I'd never seen a she-kitt before who objected to a tom having a good smell of her when she is so close to coming into heat." "I should have known," I say my voice thick with frustration. "I knew she was repeatedly mistreated by toms." "What do any of us really know about stray females," Steven asks and pushes the deck of cards aside before turning and facing me. "We know not many of them survive. Look at Alan Cumming's wife Darcy - she's all over any tom she sees. Although rumour has it if any try to follow through on it she'll fight them every step of the way. She can't be trusted around another female werecat; she has attacked several she-kitts," "Yeah, I guess we're lucky Rosy is showing no signs of jealousy or aggression with Jazzy," I admit quietly. "I reckon if Rosy learns she can trust us she will probably stick around," Steven says. "You saw how she was clinging to Mitchell and even Sam. And believe me it wasn't either of them she was studying when she thought no one was watching her." "I might have a word with Doc about her attachment to Mitchell and Sam. It could be that they are distantly related. There are some old rumours that Kurt Black's father had a human girlfriend," I say. "Rule them out as competition, hey," Steven laughs. I can't help the slight laugh that escapes me. I noticed the way Rosy was sneaking looks at Steven, Edwin and me three nights before when Pete turned up out of the blue bringing Rosy to join in with our usual hunting excursions. It wasn't unusual for she-kitts to want to go hunting in the company of the toms they are interested in when they are just about to come into heat. The hunting excursions often ended in the she-kitt sneaking away with her preferred tom for a session of feline sex. All care needed to be taken so that these impromptu sessions of sex did not end in an unexpected pregnancy. Once again my mind strays to the fact that Rosy is inside the main house, in the secure room for her heat cycle. She must be in full heat by now, so why hasn't she asked for one of us? Steven gives a slight laugh as well and grins to himself. An amused smile spreads across his face and he shakes his head before chuckling. "Something amusing," I ask curiously. "You wouldn't find it amusing," Steven says with a wide grin and turns away as he reaches for the cards. He laughs again as he begins shuffling the cards and I raise an eyebrow when he glances my way. "You going to share," I ask dryly. "You can't say I didn't warn you that you wouldn't find it amusing," Steven grins. I scowl at him and he gives a shrug. "Okay," Steven agrees, "I can't stop remembering how funny you looked when Marissa came over here with the razor strap once Rosy was safely in the cage. Boy did she give you a hiding!" I regard Steven silently as I remember the way Marissa marched into the quarters and proceeded to lay about me with the razor strap. Even though Marissa hit me a dozen or more times around the shoulders and upper back, the punishment had been more humiliating than painful. I had no option but to cower in this very chair while my mother dished out what punishment she felt I deserved. Marissa had been very thorough in telling me off for scaring Rosy by catching her and holding her close to take a good smell of her before trying to scent mark her. She punctuated each mention of my error with a hit or two of the strap leaving me in no doubt as to why she felt so strongly as to administer punishment. Steven, Sam and Dwayne witnessed the incident and found it amusing. I certainly had not. "The last time Marissa hit me with that strap I was twelve and I had punched Edwin in the mouth, knocking him out of the loft in the old hay shed. He broke his collar bone," I say tightly. The sound of footsteps just outside on the gravel have us both on our feet and heading for the hallway but Edwin beats us there making me wonder if he had been listening in on our conversation. It is Wade who comes through the door, much to my disappointment, and he halts just inside the door as he looks at the three of us blocking his entry. "You boys are mighty eager," Wade says with a grin. "Who is she asking for," Edwin demands. "Marissa will come down here when it is time," Wade scolds with a trace of amusement. "I decided to spend my time here. I forgot how the smell could work its way past double doors." I turn back towards the lounge room and my chair. I sit down once more and stare at the blank screen of the tv set but I have no desire to turn it on even though it is usually on whenever someone is in the building. Waiting the few minutes or hours, even a day or two until Rosy asks Marissa to invite one of us to join her will be some of the hardest waiting I have ever done. * * * * * Why the hell had I done that? I know Rosy dislikes being sniffed, but I lost control to my cat and grabbed Rosy to sniff her as soon as I was in touching distance after she left the secure room. Like a hormone crazed teenager I lost control to my cat, grabbed her and sniffed her! Even when I was a teenager I was in complete control of my inner cat. Now the blasted tom seems hell bent on challenging my self-control every chance he gets. I no longer have the control I have always prided myself on over that other part of me. My inner cat wants to control me whenever we're physically near Rosy, getting me in trouble at every turn. Before I could think about it I grabbed Rosy and took a long deep sniff, longing to find the sweet spicy scent of her heat still lingering. Neither my inner cat nor I could believe she was still so scared of us that she would choose not to invite a tom, any tom, to visit with her. So I hauled her close and pressed her soft curves against my body. Her startled struggles along with her sweet, clean scent only increased my feelings of uncertainty about my worthiness of her affections. I regain control of myself and release her. I don't need Wade's stern reprimand; it is Rosy's protest of my treatment that reaches me. I am stunned to see her allow Edwin his sniff without protest before she greets Sam fondly. Stupid, insecure words escaped from my mouth; even I winced inwardly to hear them. "I had better not smell any toms from any of the other clans having been here." I couldn't seem to regain control of myself, much to my own embarrassment, as my inner cat writhed in the uncertainty of Rosy's approval. But Rosy had been magnificent. Spirit and fire had shone in her eyes when she yelled at me and punched me in the stomach. Awed into submission by her fiery display, my inner cat surrendered control to me, leaving me to face Wade's wrath and the ridicule of the other toms. "Why didn't Rosy get angry with Edwin when he sniffed her? How come she didn't hit him like she hit Micah," Donny asks confused. "So Micah remembers not to annoy her like that again," Jazzy says with a wide grin. "No, Rosy hit Micah because he overstepped his bounds," Wade says tightly. "Wade ..." Marissa begins only to stop speaking as she looks past him at the quarters. I turn my head to glance at the door to the quarters at a slight sound. It doesn't quite fit in but it also isn't alien. The silence is complete as Rosy pushes the screen door open with her head and walks out into the sunshine. Gone are the sexy clothes she was wearing earlier, and in their place is the sleek fur of her cat. The sun glints off her coat showing her rosettes as she demands the attention of Mitchell, Sam and Dwayne. She moves off before looking over her shoulder enticingly. "I'm going too," Edwin says and I glance his way. He is just reaching for the hem of his t-shirt but mine is already on the ground and my jeans and underwear are quickly following. I yank my joggers off and fall to all four, my change starting before my hands touch the ground. Adrenaline speeds my change and soon I am stretching hastily before dashing after Rosy. She turns to face me as I approach and rebuffs me with a snarl and a soft slap before extending her nose with a friendly sniff. Sam arrives but I snuffle around her ears and nip at her shoulder. She makes no complaint and I use a full body rub on her side to leave my scent on her. Mitchell arrives but I don't bother with him as she stays beneath my chin making him come to her. She is quick to lose patience when the rest of the warriors arrive and crowd close in excitement. A snarl makes them calm down and she whirls away heading for the trees, her tail trailing against my jaw as she leaves. I am startled by the speed at which she moves and as the chase begins to stretch longer I start to worry this is more than a simple game of cat and mouse. I catch clear sight of her, poised on a fallen tree before she disappears over the other side and is soon out of sight. I can hear Edwin not far behind me and further back the faint grunts of effort from Dwayne. A leap over a fallen tree and I hear the heavy rustle in the leaf litter and a thud as someone goes down. I skid to a stop and I am nearly hit by Edwin as he almost fails to stop. I turn around to find Sam and Mitchell making their way back to Dwayne who is just starting to sit on the ground. I smell him thoroughly when I reach him. It just seems to be soreness and stiffness left over from the wound from the razorback. Reassured he will be fine I turn away and find Edwin has already left. Mitchell is right beside me as I begin to gather speed once again. The undergrowth thickens and I can only watch as Mitchell begins to make up ground on Edwin fairly quickly. Soon I lose sight of them and slow to a steady trot, searching for some sign of recent passing. Finally I hear Edwin calling and speed up once again. I am relieved when I come across Edwin, Mitchell and Rosy. Edwin is clearly displeased with Rosy who is busy trying to placate Edwin by grooming his shoulder. I greet her with a purr and a quick nose sniff then Sam is there expressing his displeasure to Rosy before everyone else starts to arrive. Steven is the last on the scene and clearly unhappy about being last to find Rosy. "Silly girl," Steven snarls even though he knows Rosy has no understanding of feline vocalisations. I give Steven a hard slap around the ears and he hisses at me before moving off indignantly. The rest of the toms are set on showing Rosy they hold no hard feelings over the long hard run and she begins to get aggressive. "Calm down," I order and grab hold of her as I try to find a way to silently convey the meaning of my soft grunts. I only have my teeth or claws to grip with so I bite firmly on the scruff of her neck in a calming hold. I am shocked when she squats down, her back feet moving in place for a few seconds before she stills. I feel my cat take control at her submission; he moves over her and she lifts her tail obligingly. Pleasure floods us as we loosen our grip on her neck and thrust into her eagerly. Soft faint grunts come from her in time to our thrusts; the feeling swells and we push deep as our essence pours into her. Rosy leaps away with a screech and slaps our shoulder admonishingly. I am left to stare at her, stunned, as my cat settles down with a contented purr, happy to surrender control once again. I watch as Rosy cleans herself and rebuffs both Chris and Mitchell when they approach her. Deciding to chance a rebuff I follow her as she moves away. She lays her ears back as she curls her top lip but I sniff around her ears apologetically. This seems to pacify her and I head off at a steady trot in search of prey. I know from experience that she-kitts are very hungry after their heat. I soon find some deer by a small stream and drop into a stalking crouch. Rosy is beside me and I nip her flank to catch her full attention. "Let me catch you lunch." My soft purr is lost on Rosy as she keeps her attention on the deer. A few more long moments and then my prey is on the ground dead beneath me, its lifeblood sweet on my tongue as I raise my head and look around. Rosy has made her own kill and Sam is watching her proudly as if he taught her how to hunt himself. I turn my attention back to my own kill and move over slightly as Steven comes up beside me to eat. I eat quickly, taking the edge off my hunger. I keep checking on how Rosy is with her kill. Sam is feeding from the kill as well but Rosy has her ears back flat against her head. Her tail is lashing from side to side vigorously and one foot, with claws fully extended, keeps being lifted as if she intends to rest it on top of the carcass between her and Sam. Their posture says a lot for the amount of trust between them. Clearly Rosy has never had anyone else eat at her kill and is trying to control her instinct to hoard the meat for herself. Sam is obviously aware of her unease but is managing to appear and act non-threatening enough for her to be able to tolerate his presence. When I finish my meal I see Rosy has left her kill. She is by the stream and Edwin is trying to cosy up with her. Annoyed at his attentions to her I stalk over to them and rub my body against hers before moving between them to force Edwin away from her. Rosy leans into my side and I rest my chin on the back of her neck in a gentle question. When she shows no interest in a repeat of our earlier liaison I walk to the waters edge for a drink. I return to her side and wait patiently for everyone to finish eating and get a drink before I give the signal to head home. Rosy's antics on the way home are amusing. She is clearly tired and well fed, wanting nothing more than to rest for a while before returning to the quarters. I keep her moving with gentle coaxing and watch with satisfaction when she races ahead of us all to reach the quarters and hide away so she can change. I am halfway through my own change when Rosy comes out of the quarters and grabs up my discarded t-shirt, flinging back her arm for a large swipe with the shirt, her face livid with anger. Almost instantly Mitchell and Steven are there between us arguing with her. I try to follow what they are saying but the changes taking place in my body make it hard to concentrate. When I am in human form I pull my jeans on and storm angrily into the quarters angrily after Rosy. She had been about to hit me while I was changing! "Don't you ever try to do anything to me when I am shifting," I yell angrily at her. "You make one of them your bitch because if you ever do that to me again I will neuter you with one swipe of my claws," Rosy yells back. "I don't seem to recall you protesting while I was doing it," I almost snarl and rub the long scratches that run from point of my shoulder nearly all the way down to my elbow. "I thought you were just being all dominant tom until I realised where you were," Rosy snaps and looks away as a slight red blush tinges her cheeks. "I'm having first shower," I snap angrily and head for the bathroom. Let her stay out here with the others and smell like sex. She might think twice before she leads me on next time. I calm down as I step beneath the flow of water. Maybe she hadn't realised what she was doing. Maybe her cat had taken control just like mine had. I think about what happened as I shower and resolve to talk to Rosy when we are both calm. She might not even be aware of the signals she had been giving me. There is no sign of Rosy when I head out towards the kitchen to get myself a cool drink. Both Sam and Mitchell are in the kitchen talking quietly when I enter and Mitchell glares at me as I head to the fridge. "I don't think Rosy was aware of what she did Micah," Sam says quietly with a frown. I take a long drink of water before I look his way. "I'm sure you're right Sam but I only just figured that out myself," I admit. "What's doing," Steven asks as he walks into the kitchen. I can tell by the way he is glancing between Sam and Mitchell he is expecting some kind of trouble. "Where's Rosy," I ask. "Outside somewhere," Steven mutters with disgust and I hear a low growl come from Mitchell. "Go see if she wants to come inside would you," I ask. "I don't want her brooding thinking she's in some kind of trouble." Steven gives me an annoyed look but leaves without complaint. I hear him speak to Doc on his way out and glance towards the lounge room as I hear him make his way into the room. I make my way to my favourite chair and sit down. I already spoke to Doc about the possibility that Rosy may have distant relatives somewhere and Doc is interested in trying to see if he can trace her family clan.

ginger.ale[x] has started a chat with john.looksie and lyaf! ginger.ale[x]: UGHH THAT WAS SO EMBARRASSING john.looksie: LmAO  lyaf: Mon amour why isnt Hercules in this chat ginger.ale[x]: So he doesnt slip outta the shower and get irritated at his phone dinging john.looksie: So thoughtful ginger.ale[x]: I know give me a medal ginger.ale[x]: NO DONT START WIRH THAT ginger.ale[x]: WE JUST TALKED ABOUT SEX AND BONERS IN FRONT OF AARON lyaf: HUEHUE john.looksie: HeY MAYBE HE'S CURIOUS ABOUT THEM ginger.ale[x]: About sex and boners lyaf: I'll show Aaron a boner lyaf: Free of charge john.looksie: I'll throw in sex john.looksie: free of charge lyaf: Oo good idea ginger.ale[x]: YALL ginger.ale[x]: NO ginger.ale[x]: HOW AM I GONNA LOOK AARON IN THE EYE john.looksie: LiKE THIS ginger.ale[x]: JOHN STOP  lyaf: JOHN GO john.looksie: heh heh ginger.ale[x]: NOW HE'S ALL FLUSTERED YOU DICK john.looksie: TeLL ME YOU WOULDNT DO THE SAME lyaf: I would have just held his eye sight as I rolled my hips into his ginger.ale[x]: OH MY GOD LAF STOP john.looksie: Fuck it let's go all out john.looksie: Let's show him three boners ginger.ale[x]: I NEED HERC SO BAD RN               a.burr: So John just a.burr: How matty: What'd John do Jon.BallIsLife: John seems like a chill fellow could he possibly do a.burr: 'Kay, well, he grabbed onto my cheeks matty: Nice nice a.burr: and forced me to look into his eyes Jon.BallIsLife: Wait a.burr: there was a small moment of staring R.Mont: NO. a.burr: before he pecked my lips with his Jon.BallIsLife: john has to die R.Mont: AARON STOP KISSING PEOPLE a.burr: BUT IM NOT KISSING THEM THEYRE KISSING M E matty: I ASKED JOHN N HE SAID YOLO a.burr: IM DYING OVER HERE AND JOHN ONLY HAS TO SAY YOLO THIS IS MAHOGANY R.Mont: AARON GO BLEACH YOUR LIPS HE DIDNT TRY TO TONGUE YOU DID HE a.burr: NO MONTY OMF Jon.BallIsLife: M O NTY matty: "TONGUE YOU"               john.looksie has sent a photo with the caption: ScREENCAP OF ME N MATTYB john.looksie: CuRRENTLY CRYING ginger.ale[x]: OMFFFGGG ginger.ale[x]: "Did you just kiss aaron" ginger.ale[x]: "Yolo" lyaf: John istg john.looksie: I am so glad  john.looksie: #Proudofme ginger.ale[x]: Oop Herc is outta the shower ginger.ale[x] has added Herc aderp to the chat! ginger.ale[x]: Webaa Herc aderp: O boyo lyaf: John come take a shower with me john.looksie: HeCK YEAH ginger.ale[x]: Yeah get that horny shit outta you system Herc aderp: JOHN MY BOY DID YOU KISSED AARON john.looksie: YeS john.looksie: I john.looksie: DiD               a.burr: I am so unprepared for this household where you get spontaneously kissed and take showers together R.Mont: WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TAKING SHOWERS WITH a.burr: I MEANT JOHN AND LAF a.burr: JOHN N LAF ARE TAKING A SHOWER R.Mont: SHOWERS CODE THEYRE DOING THE MARIJUANA matty: Omy a.burr: MONTY NO R.Mont: I WAS YOUNG ONCE AARON I KNOW THE CODES AND LINGOS a.burr: OH MY GOD STOP R.Mont: GO FIND AN ADULT AARON a.burr: I AM AN ADULT R.Mont: LEGALLY BUT MENTALLY YOURE MY CHILD NOW GO a.burr: God I need a roommate who can bring some stability istg Jon.BallisLife: I'll just move in with you R.Mont: Finally, A man I approve a.burr: I Jon.BallIsLife: There you go Aaron we're set a.burr: i matty: I can be the dog Jon.BallIsLife: Matty can be the dog there we go R.Mont: And ya'll live back in New Jersey a.burr: NO MONTY I GOT RESPONSIBILITIES R.Mont: QUIT BEING RESPONSIBLE           ginger.ale[x] has started a chat with Herc aderp! ginger.ale[x]: K Aaron is leaning against the couch while sitting on the floor and lets be honest what do you think would happen if I popped open the recliner Herc aderp: OMFG ginger.ale[x]: Should I Herc aderp: FUCK YEAH THAT THING IS TERRIFYING IT SPRINGS UP SO FUCKING HARD AND FAST ginger.ale[x]: Mission get Aaron flunked is a-go Herc aderp: I'll video tape it           Jon.BallIsLife: So Aaron would we need to bring anything other then essentials for the weekend a.burr: No, it'll be fine matty: Jon dont bring your spare bible Jon.BallIsLife: Essentials, matty matty: what if it gets lost Jon.BallIsLife: Spare-Mini bible matty: that too?? Jon.BallIsLife: I have an app R.Mont: I honest to God hope Aaron finds someone like you Jon istg he needs someone to saint him back up matty: Aaron matty: A saint R.Mont: HE WAS JUST FINE BEFORE HE MOVED THERE Jon.BallIsLife: I'll saint him back up a.burr: I just a.burr: my back hurts a.burr: Alexander is straddling a.burr: brb R.Mont: STRADDLING W H A T Jon.BallIsLife: NVM WERE STEALING AARON RIGHT BACK. Jon.BallIsLife: AARON BURR THIS IS RIDICULOUS matty: Not Dandy a.burr: Don't worry about it, I threw him off a.burr: Okay so should I explain matty: Yes Jon.BallIsLife: PREFERABLY. R.Mont: Oh no don't worry about it R.Mont: Yk who worries about their son R.Mont: Not fathers a.burr: You are SO melodramatic a.burr: Alexander ricochet me by opening a death trap recliner on the couch that I was leaning on because he was in a playful mood R.Mont: Once again, Alexander is a little shit a.burr: Therefor I landed on my stomach, my phone bounced away, and Alexander straddled my lower back. I threw him off like the wrestling champion I am and got back up matty: You suck at wrestling a.burr: shut up matty Jon.BallIsLife: I'm gonna fight Alexander Jon.BallIsLife: Become the new secretary of treasury a.burr: I dont think thats how they chose who the secretary of treasury is matty: It is I read it on wikihow           ginger.ale[x]: Ya'll go get rekt I just got wrestled and Aaron touched my chest ginger.ale[x]: #Victoryscreech Herc aderp: Alex I really hope you're the first to get laid out of us all by Aaron ginger.ale[x]: Herc that's literally the sweetest thing Herc aderp: I really mean it man Herc aderp: Hey let's go use all the hot water to get Lyaf and John ginger.ale[x]: HELL YEAH         a.burr: ... a.burr has sent a video! a.burr: Do you hear that too or matty: Why is someone screaming Jon.BallIsLife: That's a plural scream R.Mont: They're burning in hell like they belong a.burr: MONTY PLEASE a.burr: I think Alex and Herc are messing with the water while Laf and John are in there a.burr: I should probably take a shower after them matty: Yeah, Geesh Little Burr a.burr: I will crucify you Jon.BallIsLife: Little Burr, you're cute when you make threats a.burr: mONTY R.Mont: Stop teasing my small Burr, Jon a.burr: I have no family            john.looksie has started a chat with lyaf, Herc aderp, and ginger.ale[x]! john.looksie: You dick ginger.ale[x]: Heh lyaf: That's my line Herc aderp: Burr asked if he could borrow my clothes Herc aderp: and Herc aderp: He said it in the softest and most polite way Herc aderp: I want to kiss him lyaf: There is something in the air because by far everything around us is either cute to us or makes us horny john.looksie: @Alex ginger.ale[x]: Thanks fam lyaf: John, you and I should go to Wal-Mart john.looksie: Shit I forgot we need milk john.looksie: Since sOMEONE HERE LOVES IT SO DAMN MUCH Herc aderp: LEAVE ME A L O N E ginger.ale[x]: LMAO Herc aderp: Lyaf, John, Will you stop at Hobby Lobby?? lyaf: We can Herc aderp: CAN I COME CAN I COME ginger.ale[x]: Herc when you go to Hobby Lobby can you get me a few journals Herc aderp: Hell yeah john.looksie: Alex there's towels in the dryer can you get that for Aaron when he gets out of the shower so they're warm ginger.ale[x]: Yeah lyaf: Hercules where's the keys Herc aderp: LETS TAKE MY CAR john.looksie: NoO lyaf: NO             a.burr: I'm going to take a shower, guys Jon.BallIsLife: Text us immediately after a.burr: What you want pics R.Mont: Yes a.burr: MONTY OMFG R.Mont: IM KIDDING IM KIDDING R.Mont: Or am I matty: Aaron is a stud a.burr: BYE Jon.BallIsLife: Lmao             ginger.ale[x]: Ya'll I can hear Aaron singing john.looksie: UgH WHY DID WE HAVE TO LEAVE BEFORE AARON TOOK A SHOWER Herc aderp: Honestly I can feel Laf's sexual tension Herc aderp: Let's take turns teasing him Herc aderp: YO WHAT AARON'S SINGING ginger.ale[x]: YES LETS FUCK WITH LAF ginger.ale[x]: YEAH HE'S SINGING john.looksie: WhAT IS HE SINGING ginger.ale[x]: I don't know the song Herc aderp: Send the words send the words john.looksie: chants john.looksie: send them john.looksie: send them ginger.ale[x]: Well Crocodile Rocking is something shocking ginger.ale[x]: when your feet just can't keep still ginger.ale[x]: I never knew me a better time and I guess I never will john.looksie: That's an Elton John song Herc aderp: Elton John who the diddly dang is that ginger.ale[x]: Aaron's been around Geezers so long he's taken in their culture ginger.ale[x]: OOH I JUST HEARD A THUD LMAO I THINK AARON DROPPED john.looksie: HaHA Herc aderp: LAF IS CACKLING ginger.ale[x]: IMMA GO CHECK ON HIM LMAO HE'S EXCLAIMING UGH YALL DID YOU SOAP UP THE FLOOR OR WHAT john.looksie: (B Herc aderp: JOHN LMFAO           lyaf: Herc where are you Herc aderp: THERE'S P I L L O W S john.looksie: HeRC LMFAO lyaf: HERCULES STOP  Herc aderp: LETS BUY A GNOME lyaf: THIS WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA john.looksie: LeTS GET A BUNCH OF GNOMES FOR OUR YARD !!! Herc aderp: I WANT THE IRISH ONE john.looksie: HoW DO YOU KNOW ITS IRISH Herc aderp: ITS GOT ALCOHOL Herc aderp has sent a photo! lyaf: You took a selfie with a gnome john.looksie: HeRC YOU LOOK SO HAPPY AND CUTE Herc aderp: CAN I NAME HIM ELLIOT lyaf: Where's Alex when you need him john.looksie: Hey where is Alex it's been like 45 minutes Herc aderp: Aaron murdered him john.looksie: Or Alex stabbed Aaron john.looksie has sent a photo! Herc aderp: THAT CREEPER FACE THO lyaf: I never realized how much we fuck until we had to stop fucking ginger.ale[x]: I john.looksie: HeY ALEX WERE ADOPTING A GNOME ginger.ale[x]: I did something really bad Herc aderp: What did you do? lyaf: ? ginger.ale[x]: Okay so ginger.ale[x]: Guys I'm so sorry it just happened okay john.looksie: You didn't burn down the house did you ginger.ale[x]: I think I fucked Aaron Herc aderp: NO ELLIOT I FUCKING DROPPED HIM lyaf: WHAT john.looksie: WhAT

A Royal Edict: Prince Adrien of Agreste offers his hand in marriage to any woman who answers his three riddles. She who fails forfeits her life.   “Call for my seamstress,” Adrien muttered from where he lounged on his window bench in a state of melancholy torpor. “Right away, My Prince,” Nino, one of Adrien’s attendants, responded before hurrying off. “And cut the music,” Adrien added in a jaded tone. “I don’t feel like music.” “Yes, Your Highness,” Luka, the first violinist, replied, and the string quartet fell silent. The whole room was eerily quiet as the small crowd of entertainers and servants did their very best to remain still so as not to create noise that would upset their prince…as if they feared that he would have them put to death too if they displeased him. Two more young women had been executed that day. Adrien—through his folly—had caused their deaths. He’d never thought that people would actually come and try to answer the riddles…but come they did, at least one per day. On the worst day there had been five. It was lunacy. Why had no one told Adrien that this was a bad idea? “Marinette told you that this was a bad idea,” he mentally admonished. Why had he not listened to her? Why did he still hold out hope that the madness would soon end, that people would stop coming? “The royal seamstress!” Nino announced, breaking into Adrien’s morose reflections and causing his heart leap for joy. Marinette strode into the room, making her way over to where Adrien reclined and dropping into a low curtsy. “My Prince,” she greeted formally. “I need to consult with my seamstress in private. Everyone out,” Adrien commanded and then watched as his entourage fled, happy to be free of him. It stung a bit. Three weeks before, they had all adored their prince. Now, no one wanted to be around him. Adrien didn’t want to be around himself. The door closed behind them, and Marinette rose, hand going to her hip. “You look awful.” Adrien gave a startled laugh. “Is that any way to talk to your prince?” Marinette shrugged, coming over to take his face in her hands so that she could inspect him. He melted at her touch, suddenly forgetting his troubles. “You’re the one who ordered me to treat you like a regular person in private,” she retorted. “If any of my other friends looked like you, I wouldn’t be shy in telling them how bad it was. You’re not sleeping, are you?” “No,” he agreed softly. She clicked her tongue and mussed his hair, releasing his face. “Scoot over. Let me sit down.” He swung his legs around off the bench so that his feet rested on the floor, making room for her beside him. “What did you need to see me about?” she quickly moved on, knowing he didn’t want to talk about why he wasn’t sleeping. He’d already told her about the “shink” of the executioner’s blade haunting his dreams. “Work?” she questioned. “Or did you just want to talk?” “Work today,” he informed. “Are you too busy?” She shook her head. “For the crown prince? Never. I just have a few pieces I’m working on, but I’m ahead of schedule. What did you need?” “A new travelling cloak, please. I don’t have anything in particular in mind, but you know what I like better than I do anyway.” “When do you need it?” she inquired, face a little pale, voice carefully neutral. “As soon as possible. Can you have it done by next week?” He tipped his head to the side. Marinette looked away, fingers fumbling with the bag that hang at her side as she pulled out her sketchpad and pencil. “I’ll get it done,” she assured. “…You’re leaving?” She tried to sound unconcerned as she flipped to a clean page and started on the lines of a basic cloak shape while she waited for some inspiration to make itself known to her. He nodded. “I’ve decided that I’m going on a tour of the kingdom.” “H-How long are you going to be gone?” She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of her heart at the thought of being separated from him. He shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know. Probably months.” Her pencil lead snapped. She cleared her throat and exchanged her writing implement for a new one. “Months is a long time.” “Yeah,” he sighed. “It’ll be good for me.” Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. She harbored no delusions of ever being able to stand at his side as a romantic partner, but being around him had been enough. Where would she be if she couldn’t even have his presence? “You should make a cloak for yourself too,” he remarked offhandedly, watching her sketch. “Get whatever fabric you need and have them send the bill to me.” “That’s very generous of you, but I don’t really have much use of a travelling cloak, My Prince.” Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. “Adrien,” he corrected gently for the two thousandth time. She nodded. “I don’t need a travelling cloak, Adrien, but thank you.” “Maybe not now, but you will next week. You’re coming with me,” he informed. She looked up, eyelashes fluttering as she blinked in confusion. “I… What? Whatever for?” He rolled his eyes and gave her shoulder a nudge. “You know. In case I rip a seam or need new vests or something. Besides, you’ve never been out of the capital, have you? You should see the kingdom.” “I… That…” She opened and closed her mouth, but she couldn’t find the right words in her surprise. “Months is a long time to be gone.” “…You…don’t want to go?” He frowned, gazing at her with a disappointed pout, as if he were hurt that she didn’t want to come with him. She shook her head. “I would love to go. I just…I’m concerned about leaving my parents for that long.” Adrien’s expression brightened instantly. “Oh. If that’s all, we’ll just take them with us. They’re bakers, right? They can help with food prep. They’ll fit right in with the rest of the entourage,” he declared as if it were settled. It was, in fact, settled. Adrien might treat her as a friend and equal when they were behind closed doors, but who was anyone really to say no to the crown prince? If Adrien wished it, Marinette and her parents would accompany him on his journey along with the other retinue members whose lives where shaped by the prince’s whims. “Do you mind me asking why the long journey so suddenly?” she hummed as she went back to sketching the cloak. She had an idea now of what she wanted to do with it. Adrien shrugged and sighed, leaning back and resting his weight on his hands behind him. “I just…I need to get away for a while…. This place reeks of blood, and it’s making me sick.” Before Marinette could think to censor her reaction, she snorted. Adrien frowned, turning to look at her. “What?” “Nothing,” she muttered, redoubling her concentration on her design, going over the lines of the decorative stitching so that they stood out black against the manila color of the page. “Seriously. What?” He bumped her knee with his own. Marinette took a deep breath and set her sketchpad down on the seat beside her. With a stern look she replied, “Well, the capital wouldn’t reek of blood if you would just stop having girls put to death for not being able to solve your stupid riddles.” “Marinette,” he groaned, looking away. “It’s the truth, Adrien,” she admonished. “You need to revoke that edict.” “And then what?” he retorted petulantly. “Just straight up announce that I’m never going to marry?” “It would be better than slaughtering dozens more young women, if you really do have no intention of marrying,” she sassed right back, not putting up with his nonsense. “Marinette, no,” he sighed, carding a hand roughly through his hair and stopping midway to grip at it and pull in frustration. “I can’t do that. The heir to a kingdom can’t just announce he’s never going to marry and produce a successor.” “And why not?” she demanded. “It’ll launch the whole kingdom into chaos and instability and start a succession crisis!” he exclaimed, throwing the hand that was not currently pulling on his hair into the air. “We can’t seem weak or instable to the surrounding kingdoms. They’ll start trying to move in and take our land. I can’t put my subjects living on the borderlands in danger like that.” He dropped his arms to his sides with a defeated groan. Marinette reached out tentatively and rested a hand on his forearm. He relished the touch. “Adrien, why don’t you revoke the edict and ask your father for a little time before you start looking at suitors again. I think you just need a break,” she suggested kindly, in a mothering sort of way. The implication that she expected him to resume the search for a wife after said break made him feel sick. How could she send him off into some other woman’s arms so easily? Did she not care for him at all? “No,” he breathed through the emotional fatigue. “You don’t get it, Marinette. I can’t go back to courting. I can’t play that game anymore. How many times can one person stand to be disappointed in love? Because I think I’m at my limit.” He had tried courting. After he’d realized that he was never going to be allowed to marry a seamstress, after he’d grieved his star-crossed love for Marinette, he’d tried in earnest to find a mate whom he could respect and build a partnership with. Many, many times the suits had been doomed from the start. He was introduced to the girl, and they never hit it off. It was easy to move on to the next candidate. All he lost was time. All he suffered was frustration, irritation, and boredom. Three times, however, he’d gotten emotionally invested and subsequently burned. Chloé was first. A local lord’s daughter, she was great in the beginning. They had a lot to talk about, and she was fun to be around. She made him laugh, and they developed a real friendship. She wasn’t Marinette (Adrien knew that no one ever would be), but he thought he could make a life with Chloé. He let himself become infatuated. Their courting process moved into the next phase, and instead of private (chaperoned) meetings between the two of them, they started appearing in public together. That was when the wheels came off. The first time Chloé snapped at and belittled a servant, Adrien was shocked and a little confused. The second time, he started to be concerned that he’d been wrong about her character. The third time, the servant whom Chloé harassed and verbally assaulted was Marinette, and Adrien lost it. After Chloé was Lila, a foreign noblewoman from the south. She’d seemed so nice. She was smart and interesting, and Adrien enjoyed listening to her stories about the kingdom she came from. Lila always said the nicest things. She made Adrien feel good about himself. He thought that if he couldn’t have Marinette, at least Lila would be an intriguing, affectionate companion. He could make things work with Lila. Or so he thought until he noticed that the more Lila hung around the palace, the more somber and withdrawn Marinette became, especially after Adrien had Marinette make a gown for Lila for an upcoming ball. “You don’t like her?” Adrien gently prodded, sensing trouble. Ideally, he’d marry someone whom Marinette got along with, someone who would respect Marinette and be her friend. Marinette shook her head and answered laconically, “She’s not a good person.” Eventually, Adrien got it out of her that Lila was a vile, treacherous snake. Everything out of the villain’s mouth had been a lie designed to make Adrien like her. None of it had been real. She’d just wanted his kingdom, his power, his wealth. Worst of all, she’d been bullying and threatening Marinette for two whole months, and Adrien had failed to protect her. Third was Kagami, a foreign princess from the east. Adrien had really thought that Kagami was the one. She was perfect. Though not as strong as his feelings for Marinette, he genuinely adored Kagami, and she and Marinette got along well. It was Kagami who broke things off. She was extremely fond of Adrien, but he hadn’t turned out to be what she was expecting, and she didn’t feel like they’d be compatible long-term…not when Adrien’s heart already belonged to someone else. Kagami wanted to be number one to her future husband. Adrien couldn’t blame her. Not really. She deserved to be number one…even if that did mean breaking Adrien’s heart and foiling his master plan. “Marinette,” Adrien reiterated pitifully, “I can’t start courting again.” “Please don’t make me” was implied but remained unsaid. With a fond sigh, Marinette reached up and cupped Adrien’s cheek. “You don’t have to until you feel like you’re ready,” she assured. “but I really hope you do try to find a wife again eventually, Adrien. I don’t want you to be alone, especially when the kingdom passes to you. I want you to have a partner you can depend upon. I want you to have someone by your side.” “You are by my side,” he thought in despair. “I already have you.” She ran her thumb gently along his cheekbone, cooing, “Shh. I know, Adrien. I know you’ve been hurt before. I know it’s hard to entrust your heart to someone only to get it bruised and stepped on and kicked. I know that every time that happens, it only makes it harder to give your heart to the next person, but please don’t build a wall around your heart with glass shards on top.” She tipped his chin so that his gaze met hers. “One day, you’re going to meet some princess or noblewoman who’s worthy of you, and you’re going to look back and be so glad that you kept your heart open to new opportunities.” He shook his head, pulling away. His heart couldn’t take her telling him to find someone else when everything he wanted was right in front of him. Marinette sighed, feeling defeated. She just wanted to see him happy and taken care of, and that wouldn’t happen if he kept himself closed off like this. “Okay,” she breathed. “It’s okay. If you need time, you can have time. No rush. Just…rescind the edict. Please.” “It won’t last much longer,” he muttered. “Adrien,” she breathed. He shook his head and declared, “They’re going to stop coming” with conviction. “People are going to get the picture any day now.” Marinette groaned, picking up her sketchbook and getting back to work. “They are,” he insisted, rising to pace in agitation. “This isn’t my fault, Marinette. No one was supposed to come in the first place. Who the heck risks their life answering riddles? That’s crazy! That edict was supposed to be a ‘Keep Out’ sign. I mean, I basically put up a sign saying that I’m off the market. What did people think my edict meant?” Marinette gave a snort and looked up from her sketchpad. “Honestly? People thought that it meant you were gay.” Adrien nearly tripped over the Persian rug. “Except,” Marinette continued thoughtfully, “that had them a little confused because people also think that you and I have secretly been together for years now.” She looked back down to her design and completely missed the gobsmacked expression on Adrien’s face. He stopped pacing. “Wait. Marinette.” “Hm?” She didn’t look up. His head was spinning. He felt faint as guilt poured down upon his head like molten basalt. “Is that why you’ve never gotten married?” he could barely bring himself to ask. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if he’d ruined this girl’s life. Marinette blinked in confusion, tipping her head to the side. “What do you mean?” Adrien tried to swallow, but he found his mouth parched. “Has…Has no one asked for your hand because they think that we…” His face felt so hot that he feared it might melt off. “…That I stole your… That you’re no longer virtuous?” he finally squeaked out. Marinette stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. That left Adrien to mentally freak out while he waited for her to regain her composure. “No,” Marinette spluttered. “Adrien, no. I’m sorry for laughing, but…I’ve had plenty of offers.” The bottom dropped out of Adrien’s stomach. Why hadn’t he known about this? How close had he come to losing her? Had anything happened between her and any of her suitors? “You…have?” he asked, voice brittle. She nodded, a bashful blush seeping into her cheeks. “Yeah. I’ve actually even gotten some offers from minor nobles.” “What?” Adrien choked. “Apparently, having people think that you’re the mistress of the future king is a plus when it comes to finding a marriage partner,” she laughed wryly. “I think the nobles thought that if they married me, they’d get some kind of leverage with you.” Adrien hummed thoughtfully. “Well…it is true that any husband of yours would have an advantage at court. I’ll always make sure that you’re taken care of, Marinette.” “I know you will,” she sighed. “Other people seem to know that too. It’s just…if I marry, it’s going to be for love. I don’t want to play these political jockeying games. I’m not a pawn in some nobleman’s bid to rise in the world.” Adrien looked down at his feet, scuffing at the fringe of the rug with his boot. “And…you’ve never found anyone you thought you could love?” Marinette averted her eyes. “I’ve never found anyone of my own socioeconomic class whom I wanted to marry,” she told the truth while simultaneously lying. He nodded, slowly going back over to the bench by the window to sit beside her. “Well, if you ever did find someone and you needed me to convince him that nothing untoward had ever happened between us, I’d be more than happy to testify to your honor.” “Thanks,” she snickered, something ironic in the word that gave him pause. “I’m serious,” he stressed. “If you ever find anyone you want to marry, just let me know, and I’ll see to it that he marries you.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “Adrien, you can’t force someone to marry me.” “I can and will if it will make you happy,” he snorted, determined to see her a content wife and mother, even though he couldn’t bestow those titles upon her himself. “I’m more than willing to command any man of your choosing to marry you—well, after I interrogated him and determined that he was worthy of you.” Marinette gave a stifled snort. “Adrien, if you think you have any say in whom I marry, you are sorely mistaken.” “Of course I do,” he replied, crossing his right leg over his left and his arms over one another. “You’re my seamstress. You can’t just go off and get married without my permission.” He couldn’t stand the thought; it made him so blindingly jealous. “I’ll need to approve of your husband beforehand,” he informed in the tone of a schoolmaster delivering a lesson to his pupil. Marinette set aside her sketchbook once more to cross her arms over her chest and glare pointedly at her prince. “Oh? And what if you don’t approve of my choice? What then?” Adrien bit his lip. “If he were a good man…if he loved you and made you happy and I was convinced that he was going to keep loving you and making you happy for the rest of your life…I would have no reason to object. I’m only interested in making sure that you’re taken care of.” “Oh,” Marinette breathed softly, butterflies in her stomach from the declaration. It always made her feel woozy when he reminded her how important she was to him. “Well…I guess that’s okay, then, but my husband is my choice.” Adrien pursed his lips but uncrossed his legs and arms. “Can I at least try to match you with some guys I know?” he tried. “I’ve been thinking over the years about who would make a good husband for you, and I think—” “—Adrien?” she interrupted softly. “I’m not actually looking for a husband. I’d rather just stay by your side.” His eyes widened. “Wh-What? Really?” She nodded earnestly. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind, but there’s no one of my station I’d be interested in marrying. I’d rather just stay on as your seamstress.” A sun-kissed-strawberry blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I’ve been dreaming of your coronation robes for a long time now, and I have to do the outfit for your wedding and your children’s christening clothes. I’d rather be there for you and your family.” “I…” He was stunned speechless, and it took a minute for him to cobble together a reply. “Thank you. I’d be delighted to have you by my side…always.” She nodded, a content smile clinging to her lips. “Sounds like we have an understanding.” “Yeah,” Adrien sighed in relief, feeling much better now that he was clear on her desires. “And, speaking of my role as seamstress…” She picked up her sketchbook and showed him. “What do you think of my ideas for the travelling cloak? As for color, I’m planning a dark, verdant forest green.” “You’re a genius,” he chuckled, pleased with the preliminary design. “Do you think you can have this done by next week? How long will it take to do your cloak and anything else you and your family need for the trip? Buy whatever’s necessary, Marinette, and have them send the bill to me. I’ll take care of whatever you need.” Marinette bit her lip, considering, calculating in her head. “It might actually be two weeks before we can comfortably go on a journey for so long. I’m sorry.” Adrien nodded slowly, mentally taking stock of the days he’d be trapped in his blood-soaked city. Marinette saw his horrified expression and sighed, reaching out to clasp his hands. “Adrien…this can’t go on. This is destroying you, and you have to stop it. Repeal the edict.” “I’m so sorry,” Adrien sighed, dropping his head. “It’s okay,” she tried to reassure him, giving his hands a solid squeeze. “You’re not a bad person. You just had a really stupid idea. It was a mistake, but there’s plenty of time to fix it.” He let out a sharp bark of laughter and shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t fix anything…. I’m trapped, Marinette,” he choked on the whisper. “So trapped.” She gently tugged him to his feet and pulled him into her arms. “Shh,” she soothed, holding him tight, holding him together. She vowed then and there that she was going to save him.   The next morning did not start off well with the announcement that two additional challengers had arrived, wishing to solve Adrien’s riddles and win his hand. The first girl was led in (a sweet-looking peasant girl in her Sunday best), and everyone else left so that she could undertake the trial in secret. Adrien numbly asked her the first riddle: “What is born each night and dies each dawn?” Ten minutes later, after feverish, desperate contemplation, she replied, “The…moon?” Adrien’s face fell. “…Moonrise happens at different times throughout the year and doesn’t necessarily correspond with nightfall. You’ve seen the moon up during the day before, haven’t you?” “I…haven’t noticed,” she choked, her legs collapsing out from under her. “I’m sorry. That’s not the right answer,” he informed her as he had informed thirty-seven others. He felt sick as he called in the court and she was led off to await execution. “Do you maybe need a break before the next one?” Nino, his friend and attendant, inquired gently. “No, I’d rather just get this over with,” Adrien muttered. Nino winced. “Okay, but…just…keep breathing, okay?” Adrien arched an eyebrow. “What does that mean?” Nino shook his head. “You’re not going to like this next one.” The door to the throne room opened, and in walked Marinette, giving a little bow of appreciation to the man who held the door for her. She almost tripped over the hem of her skirt in the process. Adrien frowned. “Marinette, what are you doing here? Did you need something?” He rose from his throne and came down to meet her, taking her face in his hands. “What’s wrong? Are you all right? You look pale.” She shook her head, pulling back and away from him, dropping into a low curtsy as befit her station. “Your Highness does me honor to fret so for my sake. Thank you, My Prince. I am well, just…nervous.” “Stand,” he commanded, remembering himself. He’d been so shaken by her state of distress that he’d forgotten all the eyes upon them. “What do you have to be nervous about? If you’ve come to request something from your prince, there’s no need to worry. You shall have whatever you desire.” She stood and met his gaze. “My Lord, I’ve come seeking your hand in marriage,” she declared with a steely resolve. Adrien’s heart leapt. His mind went fuzzy as an overwhelming wave of joy nearly took his legs out from beneath him. But then she continued: “I’ve come to solve your riddles.” An icy chill ran through his body. He couldn’t breathe. “No,” he gasped, barely audible. He swallowed, found his voice, and decreed savagely, “No! I forbid it! Remove yourself from my presence at once, and never speak of this to me again.” Marinette’s determined gaze hardened into a glare as her hands went to her hips. “You can’t forbid it,” she retorted. “Your edict promises your hand in marriage to any woman who can solve your riddles. I am a woman; therefore, you cannot refuse me. I am as entitled as any of the noblewomen and shepherdesses and shop girls you’ve already sent to the chopping block for trying, and I demand a shot at your riddles, Adrien,” she snapped, rising to all five feet, three inches of her full height. Adrien took a slow, deliberate inhale, not breaking eye contact as he growled, “Everybody out!” The courtiers scattered, fleeing the throne room, leaving Marinette and Adrien to fight things out between themselves. The door shut behind the exodus, and Adrien deflated. “Marinette,” he groaned, scrubbing at his face with a hand. “What are you doing?” “Saving you from yourself,” she snorted. He rolled his eyes. “How do you figure? You’re going to get yourself killed.” She shrugged and let her arms fall to her sides with a fwap. “Well, if I do, maybe that will be enough to finally stop you from slowly driving yourself insane with this riddles lunacy.” He let out a sharp bark of sarcastic laughter. “No, Marinette. Trust me. Your death would be the final nail in my coffin. I—” His voice broke, and it took him several swallows to find it again. “…I can’t lose you,” he whispered, each of the words ringing in pure vulnerability. Her gaze softened, and her hands went to his face. “Oh, Adrien.” She clicked her tongue. “I’m serious,” he stressed, reaching out to grip her upper arms. “Marinette, I—” “—It’s not going to come to that,” she assured. “I’m going to solve your riddles, and then I’m going to marry you, so there will be no more need for anyone else to die.” Adrien blinked, struck dumb by her proclamation. “But…” “Relax,” she laughed, patting his cheek and letting her hands fall to rest on his shoulders. “You’re not that clever, Adrien, and I know how your mind works better than almost anyone. I’m going to solve the riddles.” “But…” he repeated. “…Then you would have to marry me.” Marinette nodded. “Yes. That is, indeed, what I’m signing up for.” He pulled away from her, stepping back and shaking his head. His fingers curled into fists, and his nails began to bite into his palms. “But…you can’t. Marinette, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Marinette gave a mildly annoyed snort. “Adrien, you’re not asking me to do anything; I’m volunteering.” “But…last night…you said you would only marry for love,” he argued voice wavering with nervous energy. He wanted to pace, wanted to move, but he needed to see her face even more. He needed to see the look in her eyes. “I could never take that away from you. I know there’s no one you love now, but I could never take away your chance of ever finding love. I couldn’t force you to…to trap yourself in a loveless marriage for my sake.” Her eyes dropped down to the floor. She took a deep, measured breath, fortifying her resolve before looking up to meet his gaze once more. She gave him a pained, contrite smile. “Adrien,” she called gently, and his name was so sweet on her lips. “The only way I could ever marry for love…would be for me to marry you,” she confessed. The words hit him like a rifle butt to the stomach. He gasped, unable to catch his breath. She loved him. She loved him. She loved him! “Marinette,” he whispered reaching for her, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight. Marinette gave a little yelp of surprise but didn’t protest. “Marinette,” he repeated, the word like a breath of fresh air after being buried alive. “Hope. Blood. Me,” he recited into her hair. She pulled back to look up at him in confusion. “What? What’s that?” “The answers to the riddles,” he confessed sheepishly. Her eyes went wide. “The answer to the first riddle is ‘hope’. The answer to the second is ‘blood’, and I am the answer to the third riddle,” he explained. She gaped at him. “But…that’s cheating.” “I don’t care,” he laughed giddily, cupping her cheek in his hand and running his thumb along her cheekbone. “I’m not taking any chances.” Marinette’s lips pressed together into a thin line as she studied him warily. “You…sound happy.” “I am. I am happy,” he chuckled, unable to contain the enormous grin that was threatening to split his face in two. “Marinette, I’ve been deliriously in love with you since we met when we were thirteen. Absolutely nothing could make me happier than knowing you return my love.” She shook her head, unable to believe it. “You… But… You never said anything!” She accused, smacking him lightly on the arm. He grimaced and sighed, “What good would it have done? Marinette, my father never would have allowed me to marry a seamstress. It’s just not done. The most I could have hoped for would be to take you as a mistress, but, Marinette, I respect you and care about you too much to ever dishonor you and put you in that position.” “Oh, Adrien,” she sighed wistfully. “If you had asked, I would have fallen into your arms and been yours in a heartbeat.” “Good to know,” he snickered, nuzzling her hair gently. “I’ll keep that in mind if Father opposes our marriage once you answer my riddles.” “He won’t,” she assured. “He wouldn’t dare. He’s allowed young women to be killed over this. He knows he’ll have a peasant uprising lead by the families of those girls if the crown doesn’t honor the terms set forth in the royal edict. He won’t oppose our marriage.” “This is the best day of my life,” Adrien announced in a dreamy voice, picking her up and giving her a twirl as she laughed in glee. “I love you,” he breathed as he set her down and pulled back to look at her. “I love you,” she answered, pure adoration in her eyes as she gazed at him. “…May I have a kiss for luck?” she dared to ask and was rewarded with a gentle brush of his lips against hers. “Is that all I get?” she giggled. He clicked his tongue, pretending to scold. “Mademoiselle, you’d taint my virtue with your lips?” “More than just your virtue,” she purred, a promise. Adrien nearly got down on his knees on the spot to beg for her to make good on her word. Somehow, he managed to retain control of himself. “Marinette, you can have whatever you want as soon as we’re officially engaged, but, right now, we still have a hurdle to clear.” “Right,” she breathed, nodding. “…Just one more kiss?” Adrien readily caved. He’d waited seven years for this, and seven years was long enough. They went through the riddles twice to practice before they called the court back in to witness Marinette’s triumph. “I’ve decided,” Adrien declared to his courtiers, “that Marinette is right. She has as much right as any woman to try to solve my riddles.” He zeroed his attention in on Marinette. “Are you sure you want to do this? The penalty for failure is death, and I won’t be able to save you from that, even if you are my personal seamstress.” “I’m ready, My Prince,” Marinette replied, determination etched into her face. Adrien took a deep breath. “Okay…. What is born each night and dies each dawn?” The ladies and gentlemen of the court began to shift uneasily, casting each other nervous glances. Marinette remained silent, frowning in thought. Several minutes passed before she opened her mouth to respond, “Hope.” Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. “Correct.” The courtiers gave Marinette a round of applause, and some of the servants cheered. When the crowd settled down, Adrien issued the second riddle: “What flickers red and warm like a flame but is not fire?” Again, Marinette pursed her lips and furrowed her brow in thought, playing nervously with the hem of her sleeve as she puzzled over the riddle. Adrien’s entourage squirmed in their seats and whispered to one another in utter bafflement. “Blood,” Marinette finally answered. “Correct!” Adrien announced, letting a small smile hover in the corners of his lips. They were almost home free. The court applauded, impressed with Marinette’s quick intellect. Once more, Adrien waited for his subjects to quieten before giving the final riddle: “What is ice which gives you fire and which your fire freezes still more?” The attendants started to mutter, turning to one another and frowning. Marinette closed her eyes in concentration. It was a full three minutes before she opened them again and, taking a deep breath, announced, “You. The answer is you, My Prince.” “Correct!” Adrien cheered, his voice almost breaking in his joy and relief. The room erupted in a cacophony of shouts and howls of celebration. Adrien flew to his feet, spreading his arms out wide. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my bride!” Another cheer went up. “Nino,” Adrien called, turning to his attendant. “Please go tell the guards that that other girl is pardoned. Have them send her home.” He went back to addressing the court: “Everyone can have the rest of the day off in honor of my engagement. Today is a day to celebrate! Luka, music!” “Yes, Your Highness,” the violinist replied with a bow. “Alya, run and tell your mother to prepare a special feast tonight,” Adrien instructed. “Yes, My Lord.” Alya curtsied and ran off to do as bid. Then, Adrien turned his attention to Marinette and beamed. She returned his grin, looking radiant and rosy-cheeked. They glowed as they gazed at one another. He descended from his throne, striding towards her with purpose, eager to be claimed as her prize. She dropped into a demure curtsy. “My Lord.” He dipped into a gallant bow, catching her hand on his way up and bringing it to his lips. “My Lady,” he breathed as if the words were sacred. “…May I have this dance?” “I’d be honored,” she giggled, slipping easily into his arms and following his attentive lead. “So,” He spoke softly so as not to be heard over the music. “If I hire you a fleet of assistants to help with the actual sewing, how soon do you think you’ll have everything ready for the wedding?” Marinette burst out laughing. “Oh, Adrien. A lot goes into a wedding; it’s not just the clothes.” “Yeah,” he sighed, his voice pitching into a bit of a whine. “But how long?” “Two weeks?” she guessed. “Two weeks,” he groaned in misery. She laughed at his theatrics outright. “What’s the hurry?” He blushed as he gazed at her with pleading eyes, full of the ardor he’d had to keep hidden for so long. Marinette suddenly couldn’t catch her breath. “I love you so much, and I can’t wait a second longer to be able to let that love show,” he told her, and she could hear the ache of longing in his voice. “I want to walk in the gardens holding your hand. I want to sit out under the willow tree by the pond and fall asleep with my head in your lap. I want to be able to touch you whenever I want and have no one think twice about it,” he listed, his words painting an idyllic picture of happy domesticity. “I want everyone to know that I’m yours and you’re mine…. I’ve gone years thinking I’d only ever have that in my dreams, and, now, while that dream is finally within my reach, I want to grasp it before something happens to rip it away from me.” “Oh, Adrien,” Marinette repeated with a gentle affection. “No one is ever going to tear us away from one another.” “No?” he asked hopefully, wanting to believe her. “No,” she confirmed, giving his hand a clandestine squeeze. “But, as soon as possible, we need to retire to your sitting room to start ‘going over plans for our wedding’.” Adrien frowned. “Why did you say that like it had air quotes around it?” Marinette grimaced. “Because it did.” “Oh.” Adrien blinked uncomprehendingly. Blushing, Marinette looked away, mumbling, “I meant that we should use that as an excuse to go to your sitting room because I really want to kiss you senseless…and then maybe get some wedding planning done.” Adrien immediately brightened. “Oh. I love that plan. I love you.” Marinette laughed, unable to control the ecstatic grin taking over her lips. “Yeah,” she sighed. “I love you too.” The        End

Riverrun was even more beautiful, after it had had time to heal from the wars. The gardens had begun to grow back, and the town outside had begun to be rebuilt properly now that it no longer housed an army. It had been sweet to see the reunion of Edmure and Roslin, it seemed that they did truly care for each other. Just as Brynden had been overjoyed to see baby Robb, and greet him properly for the first time. “He’s as beautiful as he was the last time I saw him, Aunt Roslin.” Sansa said, as she looked down at baby Robb adoringly. And it was true, the babe was beautiful. He looked as she remembered Bran at that age, with a tuft of red hair and a gummy smile so sweet it would melt even the hardest of hearts. “I am pleased you think so, my Queen.” Roslin bobbed into a curtsey. “Might I ask, Your Grace, what sort of room should you like prepared for Lord Tommen? Only, we were unsure as to his place.” It was the same sort of question she had received from every hold they had stopped in, “Tommen Lannister is my ward, and so should be treated as such. Prepare him a chamber near to my own, or perhaps near my brother’s for Tommen has grown rather fond of Jon.” Lady Roslin curtsied again, and as she took back baby Robb and moved to prepare the chamber, Sansa noted to ensure that the room for Tommen was prepared before they arrived at Winterfell. It would not do to have him feel unwelcome in the keep that was to be his home for the foreseeable future.     “Your Grace! A letter, from Winterfell!” Sansa took the letter from the overeager page boy and gently broke the wax seal, a slight burst of disappointment filled her chest as she beheld the Maester’s handwriting, instead of one of her brothers. A weight lifted from her shoulders as she read it contents, Lady Walda had given birth, to a boy she named Domeric, and had chosen to relocate to Bear Island as Sansa and Maege had offered. Sansa trusted the Mormonts, knew they would ensure that the boy and his mother would hatch no treasons as he grew. It was one of the best options for all of them, kind yet ensuring no threat would grow against her family. It really was excellent news, and she made a mental note to tell Brynden and Jon after Court as she tucked the letter into a pocket of her dress. They had all decided that as she was in the Riverlands, it would be good to hold Court and allow those of the lords and ladies and smallfolk who could not travel to Winterfell to air any grievances and offer their petitions. It was a part of ruling that Sansa loved, for all that her siblings complained it was boring. But she enjoyed the feel that she was actually helping people, the fact she was doing good and making a difference. A number of the lords were already assembled in the Great Hall, either stood behind the elaborately carved chair that was being used as her throne or waiting at the end of the Hall to be called forwards for an audience. They all bowed as she entered, and remained as such until she sat on the throne her head held high and her crown supported by a mass of Riverlander braids. A few moments passed and then the first petitioner approached, directed to her by Tyene who took the opportunity to ensure they posed no danger at the same time. “Your Grace,” Lord Bracken knelt before her, “I would ask your advice.” Sansa smiled, “Of course, my Lord, if I can help then I will.” Lord Bracken rose to standing once more, “Thank you, my Queen. In Stone Hedge we hold a number of Lannister prisoners, captured during your own campaign and the Late King Robb’s campaign. What would you have us do with them?” Sansa supposed she would likely get a number of similar questions that day, that and requests for aid in rebuilding those places damaged by the wars. “Ransom back those who have families willing to pay a ransom, and use the money to rebuild your lands. Release the others and let them return home.” Sansa decreed. She would have just said to let them all go, but the extra funds were sorely needed. War was an expensive business and rebuilding after wartime even more so. “Thank you, Your Grace.” Lord Bracken bowed once more before gesturing for a servant to bring forth a package wrapped in fine linen. “I gift to you this fine wool cloth, from the sheep of mine own fields, in thanks for your aid.” In truth Sansa had almost forgotten this tradition of the Riverlands, in which the monarch was gifted the product of an estate in thanks for their help. She knew the words though, the ones harking back to the River Kings of Old. “I thank you for this offering from your own fields, it is a generous gift that will be used in the intent it is given.” Arya was the one to step forwards and take the package, a role she had been given by Brynden to ensure she did not fall asleep during the Court session. She had fallen asleep once, during a session at Winterfell, and her snores had been loud enough that everyone present had heard them. No one particularly wanted a repeat of that. Lord Bracken bowed a final time and moved away from the throne, to stand at the sides of the Great Hall as an observer. The next to come forwards was a smallfolk man, and Sansa had a moment of wondering what exactly Tyene’s criteria were for the order of petitioners for it certainly was not by the traditional order of Houses. “Your Grace.” The man knelt before her, wringing his cap in his hands and with a very nervous expression on his face, “I beg of you to help, my village is just outside of Maidenpool, and while we are rebuilding well we have no Septon nor Maester nearby to aid the sick and give comfort to the dying.” Sansa leaned forward slightly and caught the man’s eye, a gentle smile graced her face, “You have travelled far indeed with your request. We shall do all we can to help you, and your fellows.” She reassured, before sitting back up and speaking in a slightly more imperious tone, “My Lord Mooton, what aid do you need in ensuring all the people under your care receive the support they need to return to their normal lives?” A pale, plump man hurried to kneel before her, a bead of sweat dripping down from his hairline. “Your Grace, we, we are doing all we can, but Maidenpool was all but destroyed during the Wars.” He reached up a plump hand to wipe away the bead of sweat, “We cannot aid everyone.” Sansa took a deep breath, and while her smile was still pleasant it now held an edge that her siblings knew to be wary of. “Is it not your duty, as Lord of those lands, to do all you can to aid those under your care?” Lord Mooton swallowed, “It is, Your Grace.” “Then you must be in dire need of aid indeed, if sending a raven to Old Town to request a Septon is beyond your power at this time.” From the corner of her eye she could see Arya start to grin at her words, a vindictive grin that informed Sansa her words were as sharp as she had intended them to be. “So I ask once more, Lord Mooton: what aid do you need in ensuring all your people are cared for properly?” The lord lowered his eyes to the stones beneath his feet and spoke in a voice more akin to that of a chastised child than that of a lord, “We need stone and wood, and men to work it, Your Grace.” “Then those things shall be arranged.” Sansa declared, although it was a struggle to keep the condescension out of her tone, “If you speak with Lord Brynden then we shall make the arrangements for the materials and men that you need. In the meantime, I expect you to visit those villages on your land to determine, and see to, their needs. Is that acceptable?” The lord of Maidenpool had no choice, he kept his head bowed and his tone quiet, but his words were still audible to all, “Yes, Your Grace.” Sansa clapped her hands together, “Excellent.” She turned to the smallfolk man, “Is this acceptable? Or would you like any more help?” The man swallowed and looked up at her with something approaching reverence, “Thank you, Your Grace, it is, it is more than we had hoped. My village, we cannot offer you much in thanks but we do have this.” From the fold of his cloak he pulled out a kitten whose fur was as red as Sansa’s own hair, “It is not much, but her mother was a good mouser.” “I thank you for this offering from your own fields, it is a generous gift that will be used in the intent it is given.” Her voice was warm as she offered the traditional thanks once more, not just for the kitten, but for the way it made Arya’s face soften. As the two men left the area in front of her throne Sansa settled back, they were only the first few of a long line of petitioners and she would likely be holding Court for quite some time.     Sansa had known Tommen was a sweet boy, had known he was different from the rest of his family (save Myrcella of course) but watching him interact with the kitten was reassuring all the same. Joffrey likely would have tormented it for fun, but Tommen merely stroked it and ensured it received as much food as it wished, from his own plate at times even. “Have you named the kitten yet?” Jon asked her with a grin, “Or are you going to take as long to name her as Bran took to name Summer?” Sansa threw a walnut at him, so that it bounced off his forehead, “No, actually I was wondering if Tommen would like to name her?” The little boy looked up as he heard his name, and as her words registered his face filled with glee. “Do you mean that, Queen Sansa? Can I really name her?” She smiled at him kindly, “Of course you may. I do not say things I do not mean, especially when they are of such great importance as naming a kitten.” Tommen’s brow creased in concentration and his hands stopped moving, so engrossed was he in trying to decide a name for the kitten. The kitten yowled loudly at the lack of attention, causing Tommen to apologise to it and move back to stroking it while he thought. “With that noise and colour, I vote we name it Ygritte.” Jon muttered, for which both Sansa and Arya turned to him with raised eyebrows. “I’m going to tell Ygritte you said that.” Arya said. Jon’s eyes widened in horror, “Please don’t, I think I quite like living really.” Arya tossed a dagger in the air and caught it effortlessly, a lesson Oberyn had given her that neither Sansa, Brynden or Jon had approved of. “What is my silence worth?” Jon looked pained for a moment, “I can ask Tormund to teach you how to use an axe?” “Deal.” Sansa’s attention was diverted from the antics of her siblings by a soft tug on her skirt, and when she looked down she met Tommen’s and the kitten’s green eyes. “I would like to name her Lady Fluff, if that is alright?” He asked, in his high little boy’s voice, “She reminds me a bit of my kittens. But they disappeared when mother made us all hide inside the Red Keep.” “I think that is a most excellent name,” Sansa reassured him, “And if you like I am sure we can find you another kitten or two when we reach Winterfell.”     The Godswood at Riverrun did not have a Heart Tree, nor did it hold the same sense of peace that the Godswood of Winterfell did. Yet it was a comfort all the same, similar to the way the one at the Red Keep had been. “I thought I might find you here.” Jon limped over to where she was sat beneath the branches of a large oak, “What’s wrong?” Sansa waited until he had sat down on the soft grass next to her and leaned into his shoulder, “I’m scared, Uncle Brynden told me that he spoke with Lady Olenna about a betrothal, and it was my idea but-” “But you don’t want to be married to Ser Loras.” Jon finished. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close against his side. “You would much rather be married to Lady Margaery.” Sansa nodded into his shoulder and let out a shuddering breath, “I should be happy. He’s everything I wanted when I was younger, everything that father promised me and yet I find I do not want a man who is brave and gentle and strong.” “Sometimes the things we want change as we get older.” Jon said knowingly, “Do you think I wanted to marry a man when I was your age? A man of the Free Folk no less?” Sansa giggled at the thought, when they had been four and ten, Jon and Robb had wanted to be heroes of legend like Aemon the Dragon-knight or Bran the Builder, they had held little thought of marriage except perhaps to wish for a beautiful princess or lady to rescue. Jon certainly had never thought of marriage to a Free Folk man, even if he had realised of an attraction to his own sex. She could hear the smile in his voice, “Exactly. So do not be hard on yourself for a change in tastes, besides, I am sure Lady Margaery would be happy to accompany her brother to Winterfell and you can live as if married without worrying for the line of succession.” She supposed that was true. Very few people would care who Sansa took to her bed, provided she had legitimate heirs. Heirs enough to prevent the Vale trying to put Arya’s children on the throne, to stop the Riverlands and North championing Bran or Rickon’s children. There was solid reasoning behind it, beyond their need to make trade for food and Sansa’s need to not show special favour to any of the kingdoms under her rule. But it did not soften the loss of her dreams. Once, back when Winterfell was newly returned to them, when she was high on the thrill of victory, Sansa had believed that she might marry for love. That she might marry Margaery to showcase her love to the whole of Westeros, but reality had come crashing down with a vengeance and her dream was not to be. Jon reached to brush a curl away from her face, “You know, you do not have to marry anyone if you do not want to. No one can force you, and if they do then they will meet the tip of my blade.” His serious tone was offset by Arya suddenly crashing to the ground in front of them, “Who are we threatening?” Their little sister was brandishing a knife, and from the twigs and leaves in her hair and the creases on her clothes Arya had likely been up the tree for a while. “Arya!” Sansa all but shrieked, “What were you doing up the tree?” Arya plopped down on Jon’s other side and curled into him, carefully so as not to jolt his leg. “I was hiding from Roslin if you must know. She seemed to think that my dresses were damaged in the attack on Kings Landing which is why I wear breeches, and has offered to make me some to replace them.” The sheer offence in Arya’s tone was delightful, and so very similar to the way she would react back when their mother would try and brush her hair or when Septa Mordane would try and make her sew. “How terrible for you.” Jon’s voice was as dry as the Dornish deserts, “And as you so elegantly asked, I was reassuring Sansa that anyone who hurt her would not be long for this world.” Arya bared her teeth in a smile. “Oh. Well, I think it would be a race between you and I, dear brother, into who could cut the offender open first.” It was reassuring in its own way to know that her siblings were so willing to spill blood on her behalf, just as she had told Cersei they would. “Thank you, but I do not think any of this violence will be necessary.” Arya grumbled at Sansa’s words, but she eventually settled down again as they watched the sunlight dance through the branches. “In fact,” Sansa said, “I will be very pleased if there is no need for violence for a very long time.”

If anyone ever asked Marinette if she were a witch, she’d have laughed them off. Smiled and told them that witches and magic just don’t exist in this world. She’d be lying, though. Everything she made for her friends had magic interwoven in the stitches. A little good luck charm here, a small comfort spell there. Just little things she could do to keep her friends safe and feeling happy. It was why she poured every last good incantation she knew into the scarf she made for Adrien. She interweaved small sigils and symbols into the soft, blue material, chanting over them to keep them invisible but still present. Adrien was the boy she loved. The boy who deserved the absolute world. The boy she desperately needed to keep safe in a world filled with akumas and evil villains. She was absolutely drained when she had finally finished enchanting the scarf, wiping the sweat from her brow as she beamed down at the finished product. “Did you finally finish your present, Marinette?” Tikki swooped down to look at the girl curiously. “Yep! Do you think he’ll like it, Tikki?” she held her work up proudly. “Definitely,” her kwami giggled, zipping around the scarf, “There’s enough magic in here to keep him safe for an eternity.” Marinette hugged the scarf to her chest, a shy grin on her face, “I hope so. Adrien means a lot to me. I would die before I ever let him get hurt.” “Well, I’m sure he’ll love it, Marinette! Especially when he realizes that this is his good luck charm,” Tikki nuzzled her cheek tightly. Patting her kwami on the head lightly, she folded up the scarf and placed it neatly on the desk, prepared to give it to the boy tomorrow.  But things happened. Adrien somehow ended up believing the scarf was from Gabriel and Marinette decided to let him believe that. It would still protect him and if he associated the good fortune with his father then so be it. So it came as a huge surprise to her when Adrien dragged her away one school morning. “Can I talk to you for a second, Marinette?” he had reached down to wrap his hand gently around her wrist.  “Of course, Adrien,” she managed to reply before he was yanking her away, causing a startled peep to escape her as they left the entrance to the school. Regaining her footing, she followed after him, “Where are we going?” “Somewhere private. I have a really important question to ask you,” Adrien spoke quickly over his shoulder as he continued to pull her along. Something important? H-he can’t be about to confess... could he? No, this is Adrien we’re talking about! Be smart, Marinette! This is probably about the latest homework assignment, she shook her head against the thoughts that almost caused her to swoon. Eventually, when they were far enough away from crowds, Adrien let go of her. He paused for a second before he began pacing, avoiding her gaze. Frowning, Marinette reached out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, “Are you alright, Adrien? Is something wrong?” He stopped, slowly turning around to finally gaze into her bright blue eyes. He didn’t speak for several moments before he hesitantly pulled out a scarf. A scarf that she recognized as the one she made for him instantly. Her eyes must have widened too far, or her surprised intake of breath was slightly too loud because the next moment Adrien was talking, “Do you know what this is, Marinette?” She panicked for a moment, her thoughts racing as she tried to think of what to do. Deciding to play dumb, she cleared her throat nervously as her head tilted to the side, “A scarf. Actually, isn’t that the one you got for your birthday? The one from your father, right?” Adrien chuckled as he took a step closer to her, “Yes, that’s what I thought too, until recently,” he unfolded the fabric, taking another step to her as he pointed at something she never thought he’d discover. It was right there. Her name in shiny, tiny, gold lettering. Marinette shifted uncomfortably, “Well, that’s funny. I wonder how that got there.” Her crush gave her a pointed look, “Really, Marinette? You’re going to lie to me now?” “Well what do you want me to say, Adrien?” she sighed, feeling exhaustion hit her, “Yes, I made that scarf for you ages ago. Why did you need to drag me all the way out here for just that?” “Because, Marinette,” Adrien took a few steps closer to her, “I found this too.” He was pointing at one of her sigils. A sigil that she must have missed when she turned them all invisible. Gulping quietly, she shot her gaze up to the boy in front of her, debating between tearing off and away from him or taking his memories away entirely. Before she could do either of those, however, Adrien spoke up, “I know what this is, Marinette, so don’t lie to me.” “How do you know what a sigil is?” she frowned over at him, blurting out the words before she could stop herself. “How do you know what a sigil is?” he countered her as he raised an eyebrow. Huffing, Marinette yanked the scarf out of his hands, ignoring his startled squawk, “Adrien Agreste you answer me first! I asked before you and already answered your first question about this scarf!” “Well what if I told you I was a wizard! What would you say then?” his arms waved about for emphasis. “Well, then I’d have to tell you that I was a witch and I made this scarf to protect you,” Marinette snapped back at him. Adrien blinked twice at her before looking down at the scarf in her hands, “You’re a witch?” Catching up with the previous conversation, her mouth fell open in shock, “You’re a wizard?” “Guess we’re both crazy, huh?” he shot her one of his signature, crooked smiles that always made her heart beat particularly fast. “Uh-huh,” she nodded slowly, feeling a little dazed. “I have to ask you though, Marinette,” Adrien closed the small gap between them to grab onto her hands, “Why did you make this scarf to protect me? What if I wasn’t a wizard and went around blabbing your secret to everyone. What would you have done?” “Well, I trust you, Adrien. And I made that scarf to keep you safe. I make small things for most of my friends and thought it’d be nice for you to have one too.” Adrien smiled softly at her, “Thank you, Marinette. For the scarf and trusting me with your secret.” “Thanks for trusting me with yours. I hope you’ll know I’ll be coming to you for magic advice now, though,” she nudged him lightly. “Is that why you’re usually so late for class? Experiments gone wrong?” he laughed, jabbing her back playfully. “Yes,” she laughed before grabbing his arm, “Now come on, Adrien, if we don’t hurry back soon we’ll both be late for class.” Adrien gasped quietly before he began rushing forward, “You’re right! We need to get back quickly! I can’t get in trouble.” Giggling as they both raced back to school, Marinette’s lips quirked slightly, Adrien’s a wizard!! We really are soulmates!! And I finally have someone to talk to about magic! This is perfect! And, if he’s able to keep my secret, maybe one day I’ll be able to tell him the real reason on why I’m usually so late for class.

Izra led Klydus to a secluded part of the beach. Ocean waves lapped against the sand, reminding him of the Baytown Shoreline back home. There was a brief, silent instruction to lay down, and as Klydus placed his head in the sand, he stared up at the bright white moon up above and noticed the beginning of its red hues permeating the night that was doomed to come.  He felt his body tremble from a mix of fear and anticipation, prompting Klydus to ask, “So…what are you trying to do?” “You said that Bahltreese is out of control when she emerges,” Izra noted, and Klydus found them starting a small fire and pulling herbs procured from the day out of their pouch. “The Blood Moon is our last remaining window into the Twilight Realm. And it is still reflecting the aftermath of the Calamity. Our home now makes us sick…and Bahltreese is still corrupted.” “Riiiiight,” Klydus glared at the Twili. This was literally nothing new to him. “So what’s the plan?” “I want to coax her out,” Izra stated plainly. “And I want to try and heal her while she is.” “Kay,” Klydus shifted uneasily. “So what’ll that do to me?” Izra wore a pinched look on their face, but regarded Klydus with sincerity, “I have no idea, Boy. But you were the one who made this offer.” Klydus felt his lip pinch, and after so many years of being frankly spoiled by Tipf’s love and ferocious determination to save his ass from whatever fate Mom strapped him with, it was a little shocking to be near someone who has so little regard for even his life. Forget his well-being. Just his life. Izra had been without their wife–who was probably their soulmate–for thousands of years. It made sense that they wanted to see her again.  He just didn’t expect to meet someone who was so willing to throw his life away for him.  For a moment, Klydus felt as if this was how things should’ve been. After all, he’d trapped an innocent person in his body…right?  In the next moment, the cat hopped on his chest. Staring at him. “Uhhhh, why is the cat–?” “Goop!” Cado slid to a stop, kicking up a bunch of sand that flew into Klyde’s face. “Oh I am so sorry.” Izra sat up, appearing affronted and terrified all at the same time. Scooting several paces away from the cat now curling up on Klydus, they asked, “What are you doing here?” Cado frowned, freezing in place, “Making sure you don’t murder my friend.” Izra continued staring at Cado, but Klydus rolled his eyes, “They’re not going to murder me, Cado.” Cado continued staring at Klydus, and as Goop hunkered down until he was loafing, Klydus ran a hand over his…dirty dirty fur and corrected, “Intentionally.” “So,” Cado glared at Izra, shoving his hands in his pockets, “What are you doing?” “Remove that hellish fiend off his chest, and I’ll tell you,” Izra bit back.  Cado stared at Izra, the two of them in a stalemate, and for some reason Klydus felt like he had to be the one to give Cado permission to let Izra do…whatever this is. “You can take Goop, dude.” “Yeah, but they’re afraid of Goop,” Cado whispered back. “We have power–” “Cado, just take the damn cat,” Klydus hissed.  “Okaaaaay,” Cado rolled his eyes, but stooped forward to scoop this surprisingly docile cat into his arms. It was supposed to be feral, right? There was no way it was feral. What a weird cat. “Do your thing, Izra. But Goop and I are watching you.” Izra stared back at Cado, looking both perplexed and nervous as they scooted forward on their knees to approach Klyde again. They kept their gaze on Goop specifically before tossing their collection of herbs into the fire. A plume of soft, hazy smoke wafted into the air, making Klydus cough as potent smells hit his senses. “Eugh–what is that?” “Incense,” Izra held one hand over the fire, then another hand over Klyde’s chest where Goop had been. “Now, look up to the moon for me.” “Uhhh,” Klydus had been staring at nothing but the moon. “Got it.” “Take deep breaths,” Izra guided, their voice feeling distant. The sensation of tingling fingertips and a spinning head was nothing new to Klydus, but as his eyes grew heavy he noticed that he felt more…peaceful than prior Blood Moons. He felt like he was floating instead of hurdling into a free fall.  Izra said something else, but their voice was largely unintelligible as Klydus felt his entire being slip deep into the recesses of his mind and body. Now that feeling never got any better. It was like he was yanked behind a curtain, slipping through woolen bed sheets until he was trapped and unable to find the edge to feel his way out.  But this time, Klydus was able to gasp and feel air fill his lungs. His eyes snapped open and he was somewhere new entirely.  He…couldn’t see anything ahead of him. He still felt like he was floating, and when he called out for help, his voice echoed, “H-hello?” All he heard was the reverberations of his voice returning to him as he spun around, losing all sense of direction as he continued free floating.  “Hellooooo?!” Klydus tried again. This time, luckily, there was a light.  Then he saw a woman standing across from him. But there were bars in front of her. She seemed angry.  “Excuse me?” Klydus tried to float or…swim towards her. Silver horns extended out of her head with tousled orange hair covering their base and her face. Her eyes were a bloody crimson color, and her scowl made him freeze, “Are you Bahltreese?” “Klydus,” the woman said through grit teeth. “I wondered when we’d finally meet.”  “Um,” Klydus swam forward, reaching the bars as he gripped tightly onto them. Looking around, he could hardly make out the rest of their surroundings. But so far as he knew…this was his mind, wasn’t it? That was how this worked? Or was this some other realm? Fuck, he didn’t know this hooky mumbo jumob, Tipf kept track of that. But he did know that he needed to do something to help her before they both kicked the bucket. “I can get you out of here. If you want. Do you know how I can get you out of here?” Bahltreese tilted her head slightly, still glaring at Klydus with a stone face before quipping, “Oh, Kid…this is a Blood Moon. I’m not the one trapped tonight.” Klydus flinched, feeling a chill run up his spine as his body began to sink, “W-what? But if your not trapped then who…?” Bahltreese chuffed, then shrugged, “You are.” Klydus felt the force of gravity pull him downwards, and before he could even cry out in defiance, large powerful chains bound his arms and legs, pulling him ever downwards as Bahltreese disappeared.      Jaxon slept plenty these days. It used to be that Kallie worried about him not sleeping enough. Long hours at work, picking up overtime shifts, coming home with bags under his eyes just to emphatically tell her how much money he’s able to put away for Dozu’s college tuition that month once had her worried.  But now listening to his pained gasps while she changed out his tracheal tube just left her wanting to cry.  But she couldn’t. “Easy does it, Love. I’m almost done.” Jaxon’s eyes fluttered tiredly open, and it had been so long since she heard his voice. Even now, as he closed the opening in his throat, he still strained to speak, “Dozu…?” “Doing his homework,” Kallie placed her hand on the top of his head. The weight between them…she didn’t know what to think anymore. She just desperately wished he could life his hand the way he always used to.  “...E’s–good kid,” Jaxon croaked, but Kallie didn’t need that reminder. She just… Oh, hell, she didn’t know what to think. She just feared she already failed him. She felt like she was doomed to fail him, no matter what happened between now and in the future she saw.  “I know,” Kallie finally said, bending forward to kiss the top of Jaxon’s head. “I’mma go put some dishes away and I’ll be right back up, okay?” He had another surgery coming up. Another surgery he almost declined because he didn’t want to spend the money. But the doctor’s were optimistic about the movement he could regain after this one. He was already talking (or trying to) and moving his head (or trying to). The doc felt so optimistic that someday, he’d even be able to sit himself up again.  And to think it was only a month ago when he was hovered over the dinner table bickering with Dozu about his math homework.  How could–? How could such a thing happen to such a good man? Why would such a thing happen? What could Jaxon ever possibly do that would–? As Kallie stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her, she felt another sob catch in her throat. No. She couldn’t cry. There were no room for tears here. She had to be there for her son and her husband. She had to watch over her little boy and make sure he didn’t… He wouldn’t. Dozu would never.  …would he?  Regardless, Kallie wiped her face dry and marched downstairs. She told herself over and over and over again that the Priests had long believed in the existence of multiple timelines. Timelines to help the Goddess enforce Her Will more effectively. So… surely the man who struck Jaxon wasn’t actually her son.  …right?  Kallie found herself lost in the running water of her kitchen sink by the time she heard more dishes clattering on the counter. She jumped, spinning around with alarm, then found her little boy gently setting bowls beside her. He regarded her with large, worried eyes, and all she could see was the little baby she once cradled in her arms when he asked, “You need any help…?” “Oh!” Kallie jumped, taking the bowls into the sink, “That would be lovely…um…how was your day, Baby?” Dozu was quiet, taking his post beside her to dry and put away the cutlery already on the mat. “It was fine.” “Y-you sure?” Kallie tried. She was really trying to hold it together. He was her son. He was a good boy. She–she raised him the best she could! She saw how much good he was capable of, had she not fostered that enough? Was she not around enough? “Seems like something happened–” “Rho’s gone,” Dozu’s voice was thick as he looked away, causing Kallie to freeze. “And Cado. They–Maren said they crossed the border and that’s why the Domain’s had so many people on patrol.” “Oh–” Kallie felt a lump in her throat. “Oh my, Dozu, I’m so sorry.” “I don’t know why,” Dozu shrugged, eyes mistier than hers. He smiled, but the pain was so raw, she wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug and shield him from the rest of the world until the end of time. “I mean you’re the one who said to let him go…I was just making him miserable, right?! I’m nothing more than a rotten piece of–” “Dozu!” Kallie scolded, her composure finally cracking as she grabbed her son by the face. “Now you listen to me. You are a wonderful, caring, kind young man that has a lot of love to give. What happened between you and Rho is…well–you boys have been through too much–” “Really?” Dozu swatted her away tearfully. “Because a few months ago, you were doing nothing but harp on my ass about being a better boyfriend!”  “I was afraid you were pushing him away!” Kallie pleaded, and she just wished she could go back in time and kick herself. “Dozu, I didn’t want you to lose the opportunity to–” “To do what, Ma?!” “To have a relationship with your son!” Kallie felt as though she were begging. “I should’ve been better, and I am so sorry. It was always your choice how to go about that, but I didn’t want to see you make a permanent choice on temporary feelings!”  “Yeah, well,” Dozu sniffled, looking away. He never seemed so affected by losing Oren. If anything, Kallie felt like he’d been relieved. She never said anything to him about it. She probably should have, she just…didn’t know if he needed to grieve. But for a moment, as she saw his eyes sparkling with remorse, she wondered how much he’d been bottling up. “He’s dead, so it doesn’t matter.” “Dozu–” “You know what?” Dozu threw the towel back on the counter and practically slammed the plates he put away. “I’m sorry I said anything. Goodnight.” “Dozu,” Kallie reached out for her son, but she felt too lost. She just…she was stuck. Trapped in that kitchen and the sad pangs of monotony. She wondered if she would be better off disappearing before she could know how the future unfolded. Perhaps things would be better– A knock on the door pulled Kallie from her thoughts once more. She stirred, shaking herself off and checking her reflection in the mirror before answering. As she did, however, she regretted her personal mantra of hospitality the moment she saw Lady Paya staring back at her: “The hell do you want?” “Sidon is taking too damn long,” Paya spat uncharacteristically. There was a fire in her eyes that Kallie had not seen in years, and for some reason that pissed her off all the more. “The kids crossed the border, Kalliya.” “Yeah, I’m filled in on that,” Kallie spat, placing her hand on her hip. “Luckily, my son is not with them. So what do you want?” Paya stared at Kallie, and for some reason she looked as lost and vulnerable as Kallie felt. There was a sick pang in her stomach when Paya said, “Diana’s been taken. The Sheikah have her and they think she was taken to Kakariko. The Zora are waiting for a signal but–Kalliya, I need to go after her.” “Well, woop dee doo,” Kallie groaned, and she started to shut the door on Paya’s face, “Sorry to hear the bad news, but I don’t know what the fuck you want me to do–” “Kalliya, please!” Paya begged, pushing her hand against the door to shove it open. “You’re the only other person who knows the Sheikah–who I can trust as my backup. They think Talus is going to force Diana to show her Mark and she doesn’t have it!” “Why not?” Kallie shrugged. “She’s sixteen–” “You have no idea what they have been doing to her,” Paya shook her head, “They’ve kept her from receiving it–they’ll take everything from her!” “Yeah, and probably kill her,” Kallie spat. “And you’re right, I don’t know what they’ve been doing. I haven’t wanted to know because some of us would rather protect our children from that shit.” “Kalliya–” “I don’t wanna hear it, Paya!” Kallie snapped, looking away. “I won’t even pretend to know what has been going on in that pretty little head of yours, but you always like to play the victim and act like you had no choice in the matters at play! But guess what?! There’s always been a choice! I chose to leave Kakariko and get my son the hell out of that Yiga-infested nutsack. What have you done?!”  Paya frowned, her brows furrowing as she glanced at the ground. Kallie glared back at her, and she felt like…she had long felt that decades’ worth of friendship just washed down the drain when Kallie left. But what choice did she have? How many times had she gone to the Priests–beaten and bloodied–begging for help only to watch them turn a blind eye and blame her? How many times had she gone to Paya? The Chief’s granddaughter . Only to be told there was nothing she could do!  Their friendship ended ages ago, but as far as Kallie was concerned, Paya was the one who abandoned her.  But now here they stood, all their cards on the table in the middle of the fucking night. Yet still, Paya insisted on trying, “If it’s Jaxon you’re worried about, I already have arrangements for a nurse to come–” “Oh bullshit, Paya,” Kallie hissed. “What makes you think I would help you?” Paya’s eyes drifted to the side, her lip practically wobbling out of whatever the hell it was she was feeling. But then, she steeled herself. For the first time in a long time, Paya glanced up at Kallie with actual resolve in her eyes. For a split second, Kallie saw her friend staring back at her instead of the empty shell the woman had become: “Because it’s not just Diana that’s been captured, Kalliya. They think Ru’s been taken too and Rhonin’s not even accounted for.”      Just as Tipf predicted, the Dueling Peaks were swarming with patrols, and Ganny had long since veered from the main path as he ducked behind yet another group of Sheikah marching alongside Hylian Soldiers. He crouched low to the ground, ducking his head with a scowl before turning to Junior, “We’re fucked.” “You’ve been saying that for the past two hours,” Junior bitched back, flicking at the triforce on the back of his hand. “Now quit being a whiny little bitch and find a spot where you can set up your diversion.” Ganny felt his eyes rolling into the back of his head, but a firm hand on his shoulder gave him pause. He turned back to Zelda, still finding it odd to see her with very little gray in her hair while decked in Sheikah clothing. She had always been a capable Warrior revered by the Gerudo. But Ganny’s memories with Auntie Z were filled with sitting beside her in a warm, cozy couch drinking hot chocolate and running his hands along the soft fabrics of her dresses. Even as he reached adulthood, her most notable features had been her bright smile and warm hugs. He didn’t really remember this war-hardened version of Zelda.  Then again…there was a lot he didn’t remember, and he was noticing more and more that he didn’t remember it because the grownups were intentionally keeping him from it all.  “If you would rather I create the diversion,” Zelda offered, her voice warped from the weird speaker built into her mask. “I’d be happy to, Ganny.” “No,” Ganny frowned, looking ahead, “No, I got it, I just…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. He just wondered if Ru was okay.    “Heeey,” Ru’s voice could both grate on his flesh and soothe his aching soul at the same time. He didn’t know why his mind had drifted, but as Ganny thought backwards in time, he found himself staring out into the soft sand dunes of the desert. He rested with his feet in the ice cold water of the aqueduct, staring out from one of the outer walls of Gerudo Town when Ru grabbed his braided hair and yanked on it. “Your nasty ass feet are in our drinking water.” “Huh?” Ganny turned his head to find Ru also standing in the aqueduct, and he couldn’t help but think about how beautiful the fine violet silks of her dress complimented her skin. She had spent hours that morning just pulling back her long hair into the braids that now wrapped around a golden circlet before trailing like a waterfall down her shoulders.  Her…very very burnt red shoulders. Ohhhhh Ru– “Your feet,” Ru kicked up some water in Ganny’s direction, and it was so refreshing to feel it splattering against his legs as he laughed. “Contaminated drinking water!” “So first of all: you’re standing in the water too,” Ganny grinned, watching her face turn bright red from the sun and embarrassment. “Secondly: this isn’t our drinking water, this is recycled waste water that feeds to the gardens.” Ru stared blankly at Ganny, then looked down at their feet. She was quiet, though Ganny did notice the way she wiggled her webbed toes, “I’m standing in your piss?” Ganny snorted, “No, that’s already been filtered out–” “I’m standing,” Ru grabbed him by the shoulders, “In our piss?!” “No!” Ganny grabbed her wrists and lifted her hands before she could shake him. Though he had to admit, her concern left him giggling. “The nasty shit gets filtered underground. And our drinking water is filtered underground on the opposite end of the city. This is all clean and on display for a reason.” “Mmmmm,” Ru grimaced, her eyes crossing slightly as she stared up at him, “You know, I have to admit, the way you guys deal with water here is terrifying.” “Why?” Ganny chuffed. “Because you can’t spend four hours in the shower?” “That and the water doesn’t even get hot,” Ru whined. “I’m trying to get boiled alive like a lobster! Not…vaguely sweaty.” “I’m impressed you can even tolerate hot showers when you’re already in the hot desert,” Ganny teased, patting Ru square on the head to annoy her as he brushed passed to walk towards the stairs. “You sure you still wanna move here?” “That’s all assuming I can get accepted into grad school,” Ru shrugged, following Ganny. “You know, assuming your mom and Roro don’t wind up talking in circles around the Priestesses.” “Yeaaaaah,” Ganny grit his teeth, “I don’t know what their hang-up has been.” “I’m not Roro’s,” Ru said plainly.  “Yeah, but Ilma’s a bird,” Ganny glanced at Ru with a sideways gaze.  “Yeah, and she’s my favorite bird,” Ru snapped back. “And she still came out of Roro’s cooter!”  “...she came out of an egg.” “An egg that came out of Roro’s hooch–” “Please stop talking about your dad’s vagina,” Ganny whined, smacking his face.  “I’m not,” Ru had that shit-eating look in her eyes. “I’m talking about Roro’s.” Ganny felt his blood run colder than the aqueduct. “Ru–” “Now, if you want any commentary on my dad’s Fish-and-Chips Combo, then–” “Please don’t,” Ganny plugged his ears and hip-checked Ru down the stairs. She stumbled a few steps before toppling and rolling completely and he would’ve felt bad if she were actually hurt.  But she wasn’t. And he knew she wasn’t because her immediate response before she even came to a halt was, “ABUUUUUUSE!”  “HEY!” Ganny cried out, chasing after her. She landed ass-up and Ganny almost smacked it. “Don’t be spreading lies like that!”  “Then don’t hip-check me down stairs!” Ru snapped back, but sprung quickly up without so much as a strand of hair out of place. Though she was now covered in sand. “Blegh–you think I got it in my gills?” “You…you definitely did,” Ganny observed, trying his best to dust sand granules off of her.  “Okay, hang on a sec,” Ru whined, though she didn’t give Ganny a chance to step out of the way before she plugged her nose and puffed a slurry of air and…fluid out of her gills. Her body made a wheezing noise as her chest inflated to the sides, spraying Ganny with any and all sand granules that had been stuck in there.  Ganny flinched, freezing in place as he realized that whatever fluid she expelled was probably…snot. At the very least, it was mucus.  “You’re fucking disgusting!” Ganny snapped, glancing down at his own robing. “DUDE!”  “Ope,” Ru flinched, giggling a little bit. “Sorry–” “I have a meeting in an hour!” “You can change!”  “UGGGH!” Ganny threw his arms up in defeat, and this time he did try to mess up her hair as he drove his fist into the top of her head. “You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?!” “HEY!” Ru ducked out of his arms before he could truly do any damage. As she straightened herself, her hands flew over her head to inspect her hard work and make sure it still held its style. Even covered in sand and spraying sand out of her gills, Ganny couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she was. Especially when she smiled, “So…whatcha all spaced out for?” “What?” Ganny straightened himself, and it amazed him at how giddy he could get whenever she took hold of his hand. Ru was mindful of leading them down the quieter streets on the outskirts of town, approaching the palace from the back entrance. They were careful to slip in unnoticed, and Ru didn’t really say anything until they reached his own bedroom where they both had a change of clothes waiting for them. After all, it wasn’t uncommon to go through multiple outfits on a day full of meetings and sandstorms.  She very methodically combed the last bits of sand out of her hand and cleaned herself off with a towelette, and Ganny had to…avoid admiring her figure when she asked, “You’ve been pretty zoned out the last couple of days…and Riju said the aqueduct was your Thinking Spot when things were going bad so I just wanted to see if you were okay.” “...oh,” Ganny frowned. He was that obvious? “Yeah, I’m okay–” “Asuti also said that your Thinking Spot was reserved for when things were going bad with your girlfriend and…” Ru trailed off, and Ganny froze. Ohhhh right, they hadn’t–he hadn’t told his moms about Ru just yet. “She meant Ghira but are we okay? Did I do something wrong?” “N-no!” Ganny spun quickly around to take her hands. “No no no no, everything’s okay–you’re amazing and–Ru, I’m so happy being with you.” “So,” Ru pouted slightly, her blue eyes just too big for their own good. “Then what’s wrong?” “I–” Ganny grimaced, looking briefly away. He held his breath, and he was actually afraid to tell her the truth. “I ran into Ghira the other day.” Ru’s head reared a little in surprise, and she let out the quietest “Oh.” “I-I didn’t do anything!” Ganny pleaded. Oh crap, should he have told her? He felt sick to hsi stomach. “We didn’t do anything, I mean. She just…well…” “I’m guessing she was on her ‘Hot and Cold’ thing?” Ru crossed her arms. “She had her Cool Down Period and now wants you back?” “Um,” Ganny blinked. Ru stared back at him with no sign of any jealousy or anger in her eyes. He was so used to Ghira. So used to walking on eggshells that he actually found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop. “That’s…exactly what happened, but–but Ru, I swear I told her off and–” “Ganny,” Ru broke out into the warmest smile and Ganny almost couldn’t believe it. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he really couldn’t believe it. “Ganny, it’s okay!” Her smile was so warm and he was so afraid to just feel safe. “It is?” “Of course it is!” Ru’s hand slid gently down his biceps. Her touch a source of comfort. Ganny practically leaned into the caress of her fingertips. She took a step forward, and her other hand reached out to cup his face. “I’m just sorry you had to deal with that.” “You,” Ganny was still shocked. “You are?” “Ganny,” Ru frowned, her eyebrows knitting with worry. “You and Ghira have been together for a long time, I get it. It’s…it’s hard!” “W-well,” Ganny glanced away, but still his head was leaning into her hand. Why was he like this? Why was he melting like this? “I wouldn’t say it’s hard, it’s just…I dunno. She was just so certain that we were gonna get back together and I really think I broke her heart.” Ru’s face rippled slightly, and she was quick to point out, “But didn’t she break your heart first?” “I don’t know if it’s a competition, Ru,” Ganny shook his head.  “No,” Ru glanced away, “But she’s been doing this on-again, off-again thing to you for as long as I can remember. And she only ever seemed to do it on her terms. You had to stand up for yourself at some point and…while I am biased and benefitting from the most recent breakup, she can’t seriously expect you to wait for her to be in a good mood, Gan.” Everything Ru said was objectively right. But he still felt…uneasy. He knew what to expect from his past relationship(s) with Ghira. This was just so new, it actually frightened him. Yet at the same time, it was kind of thrilling. Biting back a grin, Ganny more readily looked Ru in the eyes and placed his hand over hers, “For what it’s worth, I’m also biased and benefitting from the most recent breakup. Thanks, Ru.” “What for?” Ru grinned, and her smile was so warm, Ganny could’ve basked in it for the rest of his life. Instead, he pulled her into the warmest embrace he could muster and let his nose rest in her soft hair. “For caring, I guess,” Ganny sighed.  “I’m,” Ru grunted, “Well, we haven’t defined shit yet, but I’m your friend and I obviously Like You A Lot. Of course I care?” “I-I know,” Ganny hugged her more tightly, and he didn’t know why his hand had been cramping back then. “I just felt the need to thank you.” Ru was eerily quiet, but she squeezed him as she rested her head on her chest, “Ganny?” “Yeah?” Ganny grunted back. “Ghira’s a bitch,” Ru turned her face all the way into his chest. “And you deserved better from her.” “Um,” Ganny felt his brain short-circuit at the statement. If only he knew then just how far the woman would go for him. If only he knew then what a sin it was to take her for granted. “Thanks, Ru.”    “Ganny,” Nikko’s voice hissed through the void, pulling him out of hi sown fucking trance. He jumped, turning to the Zora who was crouched low with a stern look. “The last patrol just passed. If there is a time to storm that tower, now is your chance.” “Oh great,” Ganny bit, glaring at the path ahead of him. He slowly and carefully rose to his full height, then drew his scimitars. “It’s now or never, I guess.”  “I’ll cover you,” Nikko grinned, and Ganny wasn’t sure what they meant until he heard waves lapping from the river downstream. The guards who were nestled within the peaks all started jumping and rushing towards the noise, while the guards who had just passed on patrol were clueless to anything that was happening behind them. “Go.” “Aight,” Ganny huffed, marching forward with his head on a swivel. “I’ll ping you guys when I’m at the top of the tower.”  “Just be careful,” Zelda pleaded. “And use those platforms as cover!”  “Yup,” Ganny muttered, sprinting forward with the little clearing he had. He wondered, briefly, as he approached the river, how he would cross the river. However, once he reached where the water should have been, he noticed that Nikko had effectively pooled the water out of his path for their distraction. That was…that was both helpful and surprisingly easy.  With the way the day had gone, Ganny really felt like it should’ve been harder to scale the tower. But it wasn’t, and he reached the top without incident. In fact, he reached the top so smoothly that he was beginning to wonder if something else was up. Still, he opened the control panel, and opened his comlinks, “Okay, I’m here. You sure you don’t want me to activate this thing?” “Not yet,” Zelda responded, “Just get the comlinks open to the Domain and pull the map from the database.” “We could curbstomp these people right now if we wanted to,” Ganny grit his teeth. “And we’re close enough to the Plateau.” “Yes, but you made it up there much too easily,” Zelda voiced what Ganny was worried about. “I have a feeling that the enemy is on the move elsewhere. We could put ourselves at a serious disadvantage if we show our cards too early.” “And without everyone accounted for,” Nikko chimed in. “Right,” Ganny rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m ready to strike when you are….Uncle Link? Uncle Sidon? Can you guys hear me?” There was static coming from the terminal, but ultimately, he could hear voices ringing into his earpiece as Uncle Sidon gasped, “That was quick!”  “Well, there hasn’t been much between Hateno and here,” Ganny grunted. “I’m uploading the regional map to the Domain’s database…I think. Aunt Zelda, am I doing this right?” “It looks right from my Sheikah Slate,” Zelda’s voice muttered over the coms. “Sidon, let me know when you get access to a map…it should also include any data entry from locally scanned shrines.” “Oh hell, you are putting too much optimism into my technological abilities,” Uncle Sidon muttered.  “Quit acting like an old man,” Zelda grunted, “If you can’t interpret it, then ask Bazz or Vali!”  “I’m–” Sidon sputtered back, and Ganny could hear a flurry of voices laughing in the background. “I have. Now…alright I see something. What’s the next step?”  “Has Link checked in yet?” Zelda asked.  “Not for an hour,” Sidon shook his head. “He said the safest point to set up camp would be away from a shrine so it will likely be morning before he checks in again.” “We can work with that,” Zelda nodded. “Ganny? The database is almost uploaded from my end. Get ready.” “On it,” Ganny nodded, “Hey, Uncle Sidon? We’re gonna have to go for a bit, but we’ll check in when we get the shrine at Kakariko.” Sidon was silent for several moments, “What exactly is the plan when you get to Kakariko…?” “Uhhhhh I dunno,” Ganny admitted, “But if she asks, tell Mom we have a plan.” “I–” Sidon let out an exasperated sigh, “She can hear you, Ganondorf.”  “Oooooh,” Ganny grimaced, and something about antagonizing his mother made him feel more settled. “Well, good thing I’m an adult! She can’t ground me.” Mom’s voice was like static as he imagined her shoving Sidon to the ground to scream, “GANONDORF–!”  “It’ll be fine!” Ganny retorted, discharging a small test sample of electricity. “See ya!”  “GANNY!”  “Okay, I’m ready!” Ganny cut the comms from the terminal. “You guys in position?” “Just–! Hang on a minute!” Junior bitched, and he could see her stubby little legs running for the water. “Fucking hell, you have no balls when it comes to antagonizing your mom!”  “Well, considering I’m Gerudo, my balls are pretty elusive–” “GANNY, I DON’T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR BALLS!” “You’re the one who brought it up,” Ganny rolled his eyes, but kept his focus on the way Zelda and Nikko scaled up each cliff to a ledge where they could run and take cover. “You ready yet?” “Yes,” Zelda answered.  “Yes!” Nikko’s voice sounded ragged. “And hurry, they’ve figured out the first diversion.” “NOT YET!” Junior shrieked.  “You’re doing a bad job at running,” Ganny observed.  “I’M NOT READY.” “I’m gonna do it–” “HANG ON!” “No, I’m gonna do it–” “I’M ALMOST THERE!” “And you’re about to run face first into a Yiga,” Ganny spat from his vantage point, unleashing the biggest charge of electricity he could muster. “I’M DOING IT NOW!” “GANNY NO!” “TOO LATE!” Ganny screamed, sending a lightning bolt out of his fingertips and into the sky. He glanced back down at the ground in anticipation. At first, he heard nothing in the night.  Then he saw the swarm of teleportation spells and glowing embers from Yiga Magic. Ganny unleashed another surge of electricity, and suddenly the teleportation spells were heading up the tower. Backing away from the terminal, Ganny checked to make sure his paraglider was still on his back. Which he should’ve admittedly checked earlier, but hey. It hadn’t moved from when he last checked. He stood at the edge of the tower, glancing down behind him as the wind blew against his hair. He waited until the last fucking second, making sure the swarm made it up to him before he jumped.  A flash of smoke prompted Ganny to unsheathe his sword and strike the Yiga down right as it appeared. The Yiga screamed in a mix of entrance and surprise, its body falling as Ganny jumped off the ledge. He backpedaled towards the Plateau, landing on the bridge before letting out another charge of electricity. A secondary swarm of smoke clouds started spawning towards him, and Ganny dove into the river while he still had them confused.  He couldn’t swim, but the current was fast as fuck so he just let it carry him past the peaks until he either washed ashore or Junior could grab him. Which was admittedly too much trust to be placing in the salmon, but what choice did he have? They were coming up with shit on the fly by this point.      Cado had seen the convulsions of frenzy plenty of times, but it still didn’t make this any easier. This time, as he watched Klydus willingly succumb to whatever the hell the Thunderblight put him through, he felt even more anxious. He took a few steps back, hugging Goop to his chest as he asked, “Is…he okay?” Izra didn’t answer Cado, but instead kept their sharp gaze on Klyde’s writhing body until he let out a sudden, sharp gasp. Klydus sat forward, causing both Izra and Cado to jump. Klydus caught his breath, looking around with frantic eyes, and as Cado stared at his friend it started to dawn on him that the person now sitting up on their knees wasn’t actually Klydus.  It was…it had to be… “Bahltreese?” “Where am I?!” Bahtlreese gasped with Klyde’s voice. She was…trapped in his body. She looked like Klydus, sounded like Klydus, but her eyes did not reflect the same light as Klydus. Those golden eyes reflected a jaded cynicism that frankly never touched the friend Cado knew and loved. He watched as Bahltreese scanned the area, flinching when she noticed the Twili kneeling beside her, “Iz…?” “Bahl,” Izra gasped, their face melting from the quiet rage to a sense of relief that overwhelmed their entire body. “Oh my stars, Bahltreese!”  Izra pulled Bahltreese into a hug, completely ignoring the fact that she was within a boy they’d spent however many weeks resenting actively. And they wept. And if this had been a normal situation, Cado probably would’ve found himself smiling and wiping a stray tear out of his eye.  But this wasn’t normal, and something about the way Izra wept and kissed the top of Bahl’s head, whispering words of affection in a language Cado never heard, left Cado wondering what the fuck was about to happen to Klyde.  “What did–where is everyone?” Bahltreese asked, shaking herself out of the hug before grabbing Izra’s hands, “How did you get out? I thought you were trapped in Vah Medoh.” “The Light Dwellers freed me,” Izra broke out into a warm smile that should have warmed Cado’s heart. “Surprising, I know, but–ohhhh! Bahltreese, I can’t believe it’s you! We have to get you out of this body–how long have you been trapped for?” Bahltreese stared up at Izra, and she hesitated for a second before she glanced back down at her (Klyde’s) hands. “Izra, I’ve been trapped in this body for as long as this boy has been alive…is this a Blood Moon?” “Yes,” Izra nodded. “I cast a spell that should help you through this one. With any luck, you won’t have to retreat back into this body until we figure out how to free you!” Cado almost dropped Goop, but instead, he cried out without any thought or hesitation, “Hang on a second! You told him that you were just helping to keep the frenzies down!”  “I didn’t lie,” Izra glanced coldly back to Cado. Cado was frozen with his jaw on the floor. Perhaps if this were his wife, if he were in this situation he might’ve done the same thing as Izra. But he didn’t know. He didn’t know and he didn’t understand how someone could disregard another person just like that! And for what?! Their dead wife? Maybe it made sense, but Cado was struggling to understand.  To his surprise, Bahltreese was eyeing Izra with a similarly perplexed expression, “Hang on, what did you tell Klydus?” Izra froze, then frowned in a mix of disbelief, “You’re worried about him?” “Izra, he’s a boy,” Bahltreese squeezed Izra’s hands. “With a life. What did you tell him?” “Bahl–” “What did you tell him?” There was no anger in Bahltreese’s voice, though she did seem…frustrated? Was that it? She certainly wasn’t happy with Izra, it seemed. It also seemed that Izra was equal parts confused and hurt, “Bahltreese, I simply told him that I could quell his frenzies. Your frenzies. He–he offered to bring you out!”  “Okay,” Bahltreese nodded her head, “So…did he have any impression on when he’d wake up?” “He never asked–” “Izra.” “I assume he thought it would be a short period of time,” Izra’s head bobbed dismissively. Bahltreese eyed them, shaking her head before she turned her attention to Cado. “Hey, you,” she grunted, “Why do you have an interdimensional cryptid with you?” Cado flinched, then glanced down at Goop who mrrped, “My…you mean my cat?” “If that’s what you want to call it,” Bahltreese grimaced in disgust, “You know those things are deadly, right?” “Nnnnnno?” Cado cringed. “I mean if he scratches me bad enough, maybe–” “Those things are unbelievably dangerous,” Bahltreese blinked.  “I…yeah,” Cado pointed at Izra, “Your spouse told me.” Bahltreese glanced at Izra, watched them shrug in their own disbelief, then returned her attention to Cado, “So are you one of Klyde’s friends?” Cado hesitated, hugging Goop more tightly until the cat started purring, “Yes. Me and my brother both are.” “And who is your brother?” Bahltreese abruptly stood on her feet (Klyde’s feet) and marched right up to Cado until she imposed her full height (Klyde’s full height) on him.  “Prince…Rhonin…?” Cado squeaked, leaning away from the Twili possessing his friend’s body.  “Rhonin,” Bahltreese repeated, “And where is he?” “He’s…somewhere,” Cado’s eyes darted to the side, “He and Faro went up to corral a dragon with Ru–” “Faro?” Bahltreese repeated.  Cado held back his own personal fury and pet peeve of being interrupted, “Yes. Faro.” “Is he a halfling?”  “I don’t know what that is,” Cado shook his head.  “Yes,” Izra answered for him. “Disguised as a Light Dweller with little to no control of his Magic.” “Is it Blighted Magic?” Bahltreese asked.  Izra started to gain a skeptical flare in their eyes, and honestly Cado kind of agreed with it, “Yes…Bahltreese, how do you know about this?” “I saw a vision,” Bahltreese kept her eyes on Cado as she spoke, “Many years ago…in fact it happened on the night I was pulled out of Naboris and…” Bahltreese trailed off, as if a memory were coming to her. She stared into the distance, a furrow in her brow (Klydus’s brow), before she glanced back at Cado with a start, “Where is Tipf?” “Domain,” Cado fought hard to keep his composure.  “Nevermind that, Bahltreese,” Izra rose to their feet and took several steps towards her until her hands were on their shoulders, “We need to get you out of this body. I have a spell that might do the trick, but–” “No,” Bahltreese grunted. Suddenly, Cado and Izra were both frozen in place.  Izra was arguably the most stunned of all, “No?!” “No,” Bahltreese said again, “Izra, separating me from this body now will kill the boy.” “Who cares about the boy, Bahl–?!” “I care about the boy, Iz!” Bahltreese snapped, surprising Cado many times over.  “You do?!” Cado asked stupidly, jumping when Bahltreese spun around to glare at him. “What?! You try to kill him every month! It’s like a period but worse.” Bahltreese stared at Cado, narrowing her eyes.  “Sorry, I don’t know why the period thing came out of me,” Cado took three steps backwards. “But still!”  Bahltreese continued to glare at Cado, but she did at least give him an answer: “I am not conscious when these…frenzies are happening. I…I don’t know how much you know, Kid, but I’m what you would call a Blighted Twili.” “Blighted because Malic Poisoning, right?” Cado asked.  “So you do know something,” Bahltreese muttered, placing her hand on her hip in a pose Klydus would never strike. He hoped she didn’t throw out his back. Clearing her throat, she spoke more clearly and directly, “Yes, for your people it is poisoning. For my people…you’ve seen the effects in your friend. Unfortunately, there is no way to really cure me unless you separate me from this boy’s body.” “Which,” Cado swallowed a large lump in his throat, “Will kill my friend?” “Yes,” Bahltreese eyed Izra intently. “I’m not really willing to do that.” “And why not?” Izra huffed, leaning forward. “At the rate things are going, the boy is already dying! I can’t save him, Bahl. But I can save you.” “And as it stands, the boy’s condition is survivable,” Bahltreese snapped back. “If you would just give him a chance–” “Give him a chance?!” Izra reared, “How can I give him a chance?! He trapped you inside of him. And for what?! Some fool’s errand to awake Ganon?!”  There were a million and one things Cado could have snapped back at Izra right then and there. Like how annoying their hang-up was about Klyde when he didn’t even do anything. And they already knew that! They just like to be pissed off and blame him. But instead, as Cado listened to the couple’s reunion quickly turn sour, he felt a new worry eating away at his heart: “Klyde is dying…?” The two Twili froze, remembering briefly that they had an audience before turning their attention to him. Izra glared at Cado with contempt. Bahltreese, however, frowned at him with pity, “It’s a complicated situation, Kid.” “H-how complicated?” Cado dared to ask.  “You already know about his heart condition,” Bahltreese held her (Klyde’s) hand over her (Klyde’s) chest. “I’m assuming. If you don’t, he needs to get his shit checked out, because he is not–” “I know about the heart thing,” Cado cut her off this time, nodding his head, “But that’s getting treated! He just–he needs to lay off the electricity for a bit, right?” Bahltreese and Izra both stared at Cado, and Izra must’ve seen the fear in Cado’s eyes because their hardened glare did start to soften.  Which only scared Cado more: “Right…?” “If it were just the heart thing, then yeah, he’d be fine,” Bahltreese frowned sadly, looking down, “But I’m…Kid, I am a Blighted Twili. He isn’t untouched from Malice, either.” “So…wait,” Cado began to tremble, “Klyde has Malice Poisoning?” “It’s a little complicated–” “I don’t care if it’s complicated or not, what the fuck are you doing to my friend?!” Cado finally snapped. “He’s a good person! He never asked for any of this and–for fuck’s sake he has an older brother who is worried sick about him! He has a girlfriend! And two nieces and two nephews and he’s family! Why are you hurting him?!” “I’m not hurting him on purpose, Kid!” Bahltreese sounded as if she were begging as she held her (Klyde’s) hands out towards him. “I’m sorry. I wish this wasn’t the case, it’s just…” She trailed off, and Cado wanted to scream, cry, and throw up at the same time. “Complicated?” “Yeah,” Bahltreese deflated.  Izra was eerily silent during the exchange, and their voice was barely above a whisper when they crossed their arms, “But there is still time to resolve this…Prince Cado, I know you care about your friend, but there may come a point where it’s a matter of saving one of them or none of them.” “Okay,” Cado grit his teeth, “Fine. I’ll bite. But since you’re in the camp of offing my friend for your wife, I’m gonna play the other hand: is there a scenario in which Klydus lives?”  Izra was visibly taken aback and insulted by the question: “Are you insane? Bahltreese is my wife!” “Yeah, I know, you make that point glaringly obvious,” Cado snapped back. “And I’m sorry, Bahltreese, but since your spouse is so keen on throwing my friend’s life away, I need to be the one to stick up for him! What’s the scenario in which Klydus lives?” Izra let out a growl, immediately on some sort of defensive, but Bahltreese was surprisingly calm and spoke, “He’s right, Izra. You need to answer him.” “But Bahltreese–” “If this is how you’ve been speaking to children, then I don’t know who I married,” Bahltreese snapped suddenly. “I don’t give a shit what your excuse is, you’re answering this boy and you’re answering me: what are the scenarios here?” “Bahl–” Izra started, and they looked visibly heartbroken when Bahltreese kept up the front. Cado was…honestly surprised. Izra was too. Izra was…Izra appeared to be devastated as they took a deep breath and finally answered: “As it stands…there are…three scenarios from my research: the first is that you both inevitably die from repeated frenzies. The second is a spell I could cast on you beginning right now that would pull your soul out of the boy’s body. It’s similar to the Resurrection Spell, however. But if we can find a source of Purification, you’d be free!”  Izra seemed so insistent on this…plan, and Cado was too shocked by Bahltreese’s stern defense of Klydus to even process that the hulking Twili had been plotting Klyde’s demise since they asked Dad to use the Library. “And what’s the third option?” “Bahltreese, that would kill you–” “What’s the third option, Iz?” Bahltreese demanded, baring her teeth.  Izra was like a cracking stone as they shook their head, clearly not ready to face that possibility: “The third is…we Purify the boy. The Zora Princess inherited Sollah’s Magic through the Sacred Tears. If she can tap into a strong enough spell, she could purge you from his body and save him but…Bahltreese, you would die.”  Bahltreese was eerily calm as she processed the information, but Cado felt the air rush out of his lungs at the thought, “Suddenly the Healies doesn’t feel like a good option.”  Bahltreese perked up, looking more intrigued than anything, “Why not?” “W-well,” Cado felt his face flush, “You’d die.” “Why does that concern you?” “Because you’re a person with a partner who clearly loves you,” Cado gestured to Izra. “I mean–come on, you two had a whole life together that got cut short. I don’t want Klydus to die…but I don’t want you to die either…isn’t there a fourth option?” Cado looked up to Izra, but Izra seemed more confused by Cado’s response than anything, “Why are you concerned about the well-being of Light Dwellers?” “I just told you,” Cado leaned forward, “So? Fourth option? Anything? What about the Sages? Lionel pitched that idea waaaaaay back. That could work, couldn’t it?” “It…would likely just be standard Purification,” Izra glanced to Bahltreese. “He never mentioned anything like that to me.” Cado frowned, “That sales pitch was the entire reason I’ve been hung up on this stupid Sage Shit.” “I mean,” Bahltreese shrugged, “This is Lionel we’re talking about. He probably had a vision.” Cado frowned as Izra’s head fell to their hand, “Vision?” “Lionel is a Seer,” Bahltreese explained, “Before the Twili were banished, there were Three Great Seers who could peer into the future and watch over the Sacred Realm as emissaries of the Gods. But now there is only one, passed down through family lines. That person just so happens to be Lionel. Unfortunately, his birth mother never taught him how to properly use the Magic so he just sorta…” “Dicks around,” Izra finished. “But still, I would’ve thought he’d say something.” Cado and Bahltreese both glared up at Izra and wondered how the hell that assumption was made, but ultimately they came to the same conclusion and rolled their eyes. “Okay, I see what you mean,” Izra grumbled.  A stalemate fell between the three of them, and the longer they stood in silent contemplation, the more anxious Cado got, “So, uh…what now?” Bahltreese turned her attention back to Cado, then to his surprise she put a hand on his shoulder, “You don’t need to worry about your friend, Kid. We’re not going to do anything to him tonight.” Izra wasn’t as argumentative this time, though they still posed the question, “Are you sure about this?” Bahltreese turned back to Izra, walking away from Cado to take her spouse’s hands, “I appreciate everything you have done for me, Iz. I know it can’t be easy for you, but…give the kid some time, okay? Give us both some time.” Izra’s eyes started to mist over, their lip wobbling as they held back a sob, “I just can’t lose you again, Bahl.” “I know,” Bahltreese reached up to wipe a tear out of Izra’s eyes. “I’m sorry our first meeting has to go like this, but…I promise it’s okay. I’m okay. Especially knowing that you’re safe.” Izra nodded, glancing up at the moonlit sky with visible tears in their eyes, and there was something so unbelievably gut wrenching about watching Izra having to steel themself to say goodbye to their wife for an undetermined amount of time. “I love you so much, Bahltreese, I’m so sorry!”  Izra finally broke down into tears, crumpling as they tried and failed to conceal their grief, and as Bahltreese consoled them and quietly tried to urge them to let her be, Cado felt it both wise and safe to give the couple the little time they had together.      So Ganny was right and Junior did pull him out of the river. However, when he was able to come up for air, they were under a surprising amount of fire from some surprisingly alert Sheikah.  “TAKE COVER!” Nikko cried out, letting loose several arrows to try and help them keep their distance. It was a mad sprint towards Kakariko bridge, and even then Ganny realized that they were grossly outnumbered and forced to duck into hiding.  They found shelter in some foliage just past the bridge, but even then, Junior was the one who blatantly pointed out, “They didn’t fall for that shit at all!” “There’s something we’re missing,” Ganny panted, struggling to catch his breath. “Something big.” “Or someone,” Nikko glanced around, “Do we know who is heading this part of the front?” Ganny and Junior both shook their heads, but as Ganny looked up at the glowing red moon in the sky, he started to worry. But more than that, he noticed somebody was missing: “Where’s Aunt Zelda?”      Kallie and Paya made quick time following the river down to the flooded wetlands, and the border levees just barely reached the northern edge of Kakariko. Sneaking through between patrols should have been easy, but Sidon had doubled up on reinforcements in the area, forcing the two women to sneak all the way around until they found themselves near the West Gate of Lanayru Road. “This is delightful,” Kallie grumbled to herself as they teleported closer to the Fairy Fountain. So far, all was quiet. And yet she still felt a shiver running up her spine. Someone was watching them. “Paya, keep an eye out.” “If they have the girls here, they’ll probably be kept in the Main House,” Paya whispered, and it alarmed Kallie just how low her guard was in that moment. There was rustling in the leaves, and she could plainly see the masks just traipsing in the background.  “Paya,” Kallie hissed angrily, but the resolve in Paya’s eye made her pause.  She would’ve been pissed when Paya held her hands up and dropped her weapon, but then the woman pulled out the brass balls Kallie had desperately missed and addressed one of the Yiga directly, “If you’re here to capture us, I’ll have you know that I am declaring My Mark.” “Lady Paya,” one of the men greeted, and Kallie recognized Talus’s voice. That fucker. Did Sora know what he’d become? “Here to claim your seat back, I presume?” “I know you have my daughter,” Paya glared at him, “Now show me Your Mark.” Talus pulled his mask off, a sneering grin marring his face as he approached both women. “With what backing?” “Me, dumbass,” Kallie grit her teeth, but Talus merely laughed.  “You?! The one in exile?” Talus snickered, “I’m afraid that doesn’t count. Besides, you’re too late.” Kallie should’ve seen the attack coming, but in her defense, she was used to being the only Sheikah trained in Earth Magic. So naturally, when the earth shot up from the ground to strike both her and Paya in their heads, she was both blindsided and unconscious.      Ru was frankly kinda pissed. She should’ve known better than to get recaptured, but as she found both her and Mom bound up and tied together back-to-back, she just felt like a fucking idiot. When they were hauled into the makeshift jail cell and found another familiar face equally imprisoned waiting for them, she really felt like a fucking idiot.  “Sup,” Purah greeted, looking frail and bored. “Got captured too, huh?” “Lady Purah?!” Mom reared in surprise, “We were looking for you in Hateno!” “Oh yeah, they grabbed me and moved me like…two hours ago,” Purah shrugged. “I think they figured you’d be coming.” “Welp,” Ru spat, “This sucks…anyone got a knife?” “Ru, they took all our weapons,” Mom hissed back, “No. We don’t.” “Damn,” Ru grumbled, whistled a bit as she looked around, then got distracted by a rusty nail laying on the ground. She tried to grab it with her toes but…she had shoes on. So then she tried to kick her shoes off and Mom almost lost her shit.  “Can you be any less like Dozu for five minutes?!” Mom jerked to the side as if to glare at Ru. “Excuse you?!” Ru felt her jaw fall to the fucking floor and she almost saw red. “I’m nothing like him!”  “The whistling, the wiggling,” Mom’s voice lilted in what sounded like disgust. At the very least, Ru was in disgust. “The mumbling! Just–just stop doing that!” “I’m–I’m not doing shit like that!” Ru wanted to throw up. She honestly, truly wanted to throw up. “Don’t you ever compare me to him!” “Well, he is your father–” “NO HE ISN’T!” Ru snapped without thinking, and she thrashed forward to try and unbind herself. She quickly failed. “If he were my father, he would’ve actually cared about me and done something with his fucking life that was actually worth while. He wouldn’t have abandoned me and Dad, he–! How fucking dare you, Mom. You don’t even know me!”  Mom flinched from the venom in Ru’s voice, and for a split second while she forgot that she was talking to a teenage version of her mother that had no clue of the future, she didn’t care. “R-Ru, I’m sorry, I didn’t know–” “Well, you should’ve,” Ru growled. “What the fuck did you ever see in him in the first place?!” Mom grew eerily quiet, and Ru was so suddenly angry that she was shaking. But Purah made a groaning noise and broke the silence: “Daaaaaamn, Diana, who is this bitch?” Ru snapped Purah an offended glare, but Mom was the one who let out a heavy sigh, “Nayru…but she goes by Ru.” Purah sat up a little more, “Nayru as in… the Nayru?” “Heeeey,” Ru huffed, hanging her head in a mix of shame and embarrassment.  Purah really sat up, although with her hands chained to the wall she couldn’t really approach Ru and do her weird inspection thing. However, she was still as observant as ever, “You have gills.” “I know.” “The prophecy didn’t say shit about gills–” “The prophecy said that I was mothered by Mom and strapped with the bloodline of fucking Dozu,” Ru’s head rocked back with annoyance. “The woman doesn’t need to get knocked up for me to be born!”  “...Ohhhh,” Purah frowned, somehow offended by Ru’s presence. “Ohhhhh no.” “What,” Ru spat, “Am I too blonde for your liking?” “N-no, it’s just,” Purah hissed and cringed all at the same time, “Oh, they are going to be pissed when you’re born.” Ru scowled, “I know.” Mom straightened, “Whose ‘they’?” “The Sheikah,” both Ru and Purah droned, and Ru was too tired to not clarify, “It wasn’t pretty.” “They didn’t get political, did they?” Purah asked. Ru felt sick to her stomach just knowing that Purah already knew. “Oh no, they did…or they will. Ohhhh, that sucks.” “Why,” Mom’s head was moving on a swivel, “Wait, why do they need to get political?” “Seriously?” Ru snapped, but any conversion was brought to a halt when the doors to the house (prison) swung open to reveal mother fucking Dozu masked back up in the monkey suit. And he was holding Ru’s kodaichi like it was a gift. “You can keep that!”  “Well, you’re not getting it back while you’re our prisoner,” Dozu bitched back.  “You know this one?” Purah asked.  “I wish I didn’t,” Ru growled back.  Dozu was oddly quiet as he marched to the three of them, then knelt down in front of Purah like he was going to untie her. Ru actually for some fucking reason held her breath and hoped that he was on a Good Swing.  But no, he wasn’t and she got her hopes up for fucking nothing. All he did was untie the rope keeping Purah to a wall, then shortened her fucking leash to guide her outside. Then he did the same thing to Ru and Mom as two other Yiga came in to separate them and march them forward individually. Ru fought against the Yiga who kept her arms behind her back and her head forward, but this guy was stronger and more experienced. So she was fucked as they marched her out the house and down the stairs until they were in the middle of the village.  Once again, Ru was forced to her knees beside her mother and Purah, but as the village and troops of Yiga all gathered, Ru noticed two other women knelt forcefully across from her. Both were limp.  “Mom?!” Mom gasped, and Ru felt her blood running cold.  “Oh no,” Ru droned, “G-Granny?! Nana?!”  “Oh shit,” Purah hissed. “Talus? The fuck are you planning to do?!” Talus addressed the crowd, ignoring Purah as he stretched his arms outward with glee. Several voices cheered, many Sheikah kept their heads down with what seemed to be visible defeat. “My brethren! On this sacred night of the Blood Moon, a miracle has fallen on us!” The cheering escalated, and Ru could feel her heart beginning to pound in her ears.  “Before the watchful eyes of Nayru,” Talus glared back at Ru with a sinister smile, then returned his attention to the crowd, “It is time we finally bring order to our Tribe.” Talus spun on his heel, approaching Mom first as he drew his kodaichi, “My Lady, I’m afraid I will need a sample of your blood.” Mom stared up at Talus, her cheeks growing visibly pale, “W-what are you doing?” “By order of the Priests, I am showing My Mark,” Talus pointed the point of his blade at Mom’s neck. “Impa has grown old and weary. Both you and your mother have abandoned us. Due to your negligence, it has been decided that I will replace your family as the new and rightful Chief.” Ru felt her head moving on a swivel, her jaw fucking dropping from shock, “What?!”  “Absolutely not,” Mom shook her head, leaning away from Talus. “I will not concede to you as chief!”  “Oh, so do you intend to challenge my declaration?” Talus asked, the grin spreading on his face. “Then show me Your Mark, Lady Diana.” Mom froze, and Ru froze right with her. Mom…Mom didn’t have her mark. Like at all. Ru had spent her earliest years tracing a finger along the tattoo that marked Mom as a proud and fully fledged Sheikah. But it wasn’t…it wasn’t there– “You,” Mom grit her teeth, visibly starting to tremble, “You forbade me from receiving it.” “Ohhhhh, so you have no Mark to show,” Talus clicked his tongue in some mockery of disappointment. “Then it would seem you cannot challenge me.” “But that’s not fair!” Ru snapped, leaning forward, “You’re the one who kept her from receiving it! She’s done everything for this village!” “Oh, so I take it you can challenge in her place, Nayru?” Talus turned his attention towards her, his sword pointing at her neck. “You are her daughter…if you show me Your Mark, then I’ll accept the challenge.” “I–” Ru choked on her own spit, then looked away. The crowd around them began rustling, heads craning to see what she– the Mighty Nayru– would do, but Ru was actually surprised by how embarrassed she was when she mumbled, “I don’t have one.” “What was that?” Talus leaned forward.  “I said I don’t have one,” Ru spat more audibly, glaring up at Talus. “The Sheikah rejected me.” “What?” Mom stared at Ru with painfully wide eyes, and she couldn’t bear to look at her own mother. “Why?” “Mom, it’s not that big of a deal–” “Why would you reject her?!” Mom cried out, fighting against her restraints. “This is treachery! The ancestors would be ashamed of you, Talus! How dare you falsely claim your Mark, you can’t do this!”  “Oh, but I can,” Talus sneered, but turned to Nana and Granny, “Unless these two hags would like to wake up from their nap! What say you, Kalliya?! You awake yet?!”  Ru held her breath as Nana groaned, shaking herself off before lifting her head. Granny, however, was still completely limp in her restraints. Nana stirred with a gasp, fighting for a moment before turning to Granny, then looking up to Ru and Mom and Purah before the fight left her, “No.” “I’ve shown My Mark,” Talus filled her in, “And unfortunately, Lady Diana and the Mighty Nayru have nothing to show me. So? Will you represent the Chief’s bloodline in their place?”  Nana glared up at Talus for all of two seconds before she spat at his feet, “I’m exiled, you fuck.” “Oh, that’s right,” Talus marched right towards the two of them, grabbing a club from one of his men before raising it and striking Granny across the head, “WHAT ABOUT YOU, PAYA!?” “MOM!!” Mom cried out as Ru just screamed. Talus struck her grandmother, her blood splattering to the ground from the impact. And he struck her again, taunting her and daring her to wake up to show Her Mark, and all Ru could do was just scream.  “COME ONNNN!” Talus cackled, striking Granny again, “DON’T MAKE THIS SO EASY!” “HEY!” Dozu barked, causing Ru to jump out of her skin, “Easy, Asshole! You still need her alive.” Talus froze mid-strike, but slowly turned his head until he regained his composure. Talus handed the bloodied weapon back to the Yiga, then returned his attention to Mom and stated, “Your mother has given me her blood. Now it’s time for yours.” “You’re out of your mind,” Mom trembled, thrashing suddenly against her restraints, “YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”  “Oh but I can,” Talus hissed, approaching them both, “And in fact, I will–” A kunai knife struck the ground between them and Talus, and Ru really did not want to get her hopes up when she saw the figure of a masked Sheikah drop down from their perch on the roof of the Main House. She really was afraid of getting her hopes up, even in spite of Talus spitting, “Sheik.”  “Your southern border is not well protected,” Aunt Zelda spoke through the voice-altering mask. “Might want to fortify that if you get the chance.”  “What in the hell do you want?” Talus snarled.  “I’m here to Challenge,” Zelda took several steps forward until she was in front of Ru, but Talus began to encircle the group, forcing Zelda to pace in a circle around him.  “Woaaaaah,” Ru shook her head adamantly, “Hang on, I don’t know if that’s a–” “SHHH,” Purah hissed suddenly, causing Ru to flinch and turn her head. Purah, however, stared at Aunt Zelda with a wildly delighted look in her eyes. “Let her have this.” “Have what?” Ru whispered back, but one very certain look from Purah made her shut her mouth.  “No one can challenge for the Chief’s Bloodline without revealing themselves,” Talus spat. “Now show yourself, Sheik.” “...Fine,” Aunt Zelda grunted, and she was quick to remove her mask and hood. Strands of long golden hair blew freely in the wind, though most of it was kept up tightly in a bun. Talus and the others took one look at her, then immediately burst out laughing.  “Her Highness?!” One of the men chortled. “Queen Zelda! You can’t have any say in Tribal Matters!”  “The Law states that the royal family cannot have a say,” Aunt Zelda corrected, “And as it stands, I have no family and I’ve renounced my titles. I am simply a woman who seeks to challenge you on behalf of the Chief’s family, Talus.” “Then show me Your Mark, Your Highness,” Talus’s smile had long fallen, and by this point, he just looked offended, “Assuming you know anything about our traditions, our history. Honestly, what kind of insult is this that you would dare challenge me when you have no clue what it entails?!” “I have no clue?” Aunt Zelda asked. “Are you certain?” There was a ripple of hesitation, but behind Ru, Dozu huffed, “You’re the Queen of Hyrule. Renounced title, or not, you’re still just a Hylian. You don’t know our history.” Aunt Zelda’s head moved on a swivel, and for a moment, Ru really didn’t know what her plan was. So far as she could tell, she was alone. Even if the others had come with her, she had to have run ahead. And they were all completely surrounded.  And then Aunt Zelda removed her scarf, dropping it to the ground before removing her cufflinks and gloves as well.  “The Mark of the Sheikah, represented by an eye leaking a single tear which represents the ancestors’ memories,” Zelda recited suddenly. “All that came before, all that is, and all that ever will be is enshrined in our blood. Our essence. Our soul. And on their sixteenth birthday, a Sheikah has the right to prove themself in a battle of will, wit, and wisdom within the Ta’loh Naeg Shrine. It is only through a successful victory that one is recognized as a true member of the Tribe. A fully fledged adult. On your sixteenth birthday, with a successful victory, you can receive your Mark - the tattoo every proud Sheikah bears - and you may choose where it is placed on your body. The larger it is, the more of yourself that you give to your people. The more visible it is, the more dedication you have. Place it on the front of your body, and you have nothing to hide.”  With every word Zelda spoke, another piece of armor was shed. And the more impatient Talus grew: “I am well aware of my own Tribe’s teachings, Your Highness–” “But furthermore,” Zelda spat, a ferocity in her gaze that Ru had never seen before, “On your sixteenth birthday, you may choose your betrothed. Legal marriage is not recognized before the age of twenty in Hyrule, Talus. But if the Chief grants permission, a betrothal can be arranged. And any person betrothed to a Marked Sheikah above the age of sixteen is also eligible to join the Tribe through this sacred ceremony.”  “Anyone who isn’t royal,” Talus corrected. “I am well aware of that.” “Are you aware that my father disowned me?” Zelda asked suddenly, pulling the sleeves of her armor off until all that remained was her undershirt. “Are you aware, Talus, that I am the bastard daughter of the late Queen Zelda? And are you aware that after my disownment, I had no claim to the throne unless I could awaken my sealed Magic?!”  There was a sudden, volatile hush amongst the crowd as Aunt Zelda pulled off her undershirt to reveal a large sternum tattoo of the Sheikah Mark tracing her entire abdomen. It followed the curve of her ribcage and was by far one of the largest Marks Ru had ever seen. Ru felt the Yiga release her, taking a sudden step back from shock. Though Ru’s hands were still bound, she had no one to hold her down and yet she still remained on her knees.  Holy shit.   Talus was stunned into silence, but Aunt Zelda simply drew a kodaichi. Impa’s kodaichi, to be exact. “I am the bastard daughter of Queen Zelda and Chief Urbosa, Talus. I am the betrothed of Chief Impa. We may not have reached marital age, but I was granted asylum by Chief Hitoshi and earned my Mark through my engagement to and guidance from Impa! So in the name of the wife I should have had, in the names of her descendants I challenge your claim to the Bloodline!”

The slam of the door echoed throughout the room, which Nico realized was now silent. A moment later, a soft creak notified him that Hazel was exiting the bathroom. “Nico?” Her voice cut through the silence like a knife. “What was that? I heard shouting.” He didn’t bother turning to face her. “Yeah, sorry. Um, I’m going to take a nap, I think.” He moved to crawl under the covers, but suddenly there was a hand wrapped around his upper arm.  “Wait. Talk to me. Something’s up.” He attempted to yank his arm away, but Hazel was a lot stronger than she looked. “It’s nothing, I promise.” You’ve kept every promise you’ve ever made. “Damnit,” he muttered. “What?” Hazel asked. He gave in, sitting down on his bed and allowing Hazel to follow. He remained silent for a few moments, but when she didn’t say anything, either, he glanced up and saw that she was staring with her eyebrows raised, expectant. “I’ll wait,” she said. Nico sighed. “Fine. But you have to understand, this is all my fault, okay? Don’t go attacking anyone on my behalf.” Her eyes widened at that, but she nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s hear it.” He took a deep breath. He had come out to his sister before regarding Percy, but this felt so much more difficult for some reason—perhaps because it’s harder telling someone you like someone in the present tense rather than the past. “It’s Will,” he finally managed. “Will,” Hazel said. “The guy you’re always going on about? Yeah, I figured, Nico, jeez. But what happened just now?” “He…overheard something I said to Jason. Something I shouldn’t have said out loud. And I panicked, of course, and shadow-travelled back here. But then he came in here, and I was telling him to go away, and he got mad at me and left.” She crossed her arms. “Now, that’s not very specific.” He frowned. “The details aren’t important.” “Yes they are. What did he hear you say? Was it something mean? Were you complaining about him behind his back? Did it have a different meaning and he just heard it out of context?” Nico shook his head. “Not really any of those, no.” “Then what in the world was it, Nico?” He flexed his fingers, which had regained some of their tangibility, but not all. “Um…I told Jason that I…I liked him.” There was a dreadful moment of silence, and Nico wondered if she was going to be completely disgusted or something. Again, this was him liking someone. Not used-to-have-a-dumb-crush-on-someone. “Really?” she eventually said. “That’s it? What’s so bad about that?” He shook his head. “Hazel, you don’t understand. I said I like him, and he heard it all. Everything.” She raised an eyebrow. “So there was more?” He felt his face flushing. “Maybe a little.” “Come on, Nico, what was it?” “I might have said that I wanted to kiss him?” Hazel practically cooed. “Aw, Nico, you really think he’s upset at you about that?” “Not that, exactly,” he replied. “He’s mad because I guess I sort of…rejected him?” “What?” “I don’t even know, Hazel.” “Nico, why would you reject a guy who you just said you wanted to kiss?” “I don’t know!” He groaned and flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’m just really stupid, I think. I don’t know how to talk to people. I don’t know how to accept that a guy might actually have feelings for me. And I especially don’t know how to express my own.” She tapped his shoulder. “It sounds like you’re doing a pretty good job expressing them to me,” she replied. “Why don’t you just tell him all this?” “I can’t.” “Why not?” “Because I’m not like you. You’re great at this. You’re empathetic and compassionate and all that. I’m just not. I mess things up and make people mad.” Hazel seemed to think on this for a moment. “Then I know just the person you need to talk to.” “What? Who?” “Someone who is equally emotionally distant and might understand your thought process a little better. She also might kick your ass for putting yourself down so much.” She stood and headed toward the door. “I’ll be right back. Stay put.” *** No more than five minutes later, Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano was pushed through the door of the Hades cabin, and it was shut firmly behind her. She stumbled in, glancing around wildly for a moment before her eyes landed on Nico. She then quickly regained her proper praetor composure and walked over, her stern, dark eyes and toned arms as intimidating as ever. “So. I’ve heard you’ve got a…predicament?” He was surprised by the inflection of her voice, the way her frown seemed so unsure—although it also felt familiar, like he was watching a video of himself. Maybe Hazel was right. He pat the spot on the bed next to his own. “Here. Sit. This is probably going to, uh, take a while. I’m not good at this.” Reyna smiled grimly. “I know. But even if I can’t help, I’d like to hear you out.” She stared at the floor for a moment. “It’s nice to be the one listening to someone else once in a while, instead of telling everybody else to listen to you.” “Oh.” Nico stared at the floor for a moment. “Well…here’s my, um, problem.” “Aside from the fading hands, you mean,” Reyna said. “Don’t think I can’t see that.” He moved his hands behind his back, but not before glancing at them and affirming her words. “It’s a…guy…problem?” She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really.” “You don’t sound surprised.” “I’m not.” She sighed. “Look, you know we both suck at this. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Nico shrugged. “I know. I think I just messed everything up, though. I told him off, and I was mean about it, because I can’t fucking control my temper.” “Why’d you tell him off?” He shrugged again. “I don’t know. I think I was…scared, I guess?” “Scared of what?” “Of…” He hesitated. “Of…liking someone?” Reyna shook her head. “Maybe you were, but you’ve liked him for a while, right? So it’s something different.” She pauses in thought. “Did he…say anything?” He nodded. “Yeah, he…he said he was…” He trails off, groaning. “I can’t even fucking say it. It’s like goddamn Cupid all over again.” He hesitated. “Not that you’re anything like him, obviously. I mean—it wasn’t even him that was the problem. It’s me. I just can’t say stuff to people.” He swallowed and took a breath. “Even though I’m totally rambling right now.” “Cupid, huh,” Reyna said. She stops to think again for a moment, and then looks up at him. “I think you should see Jason.” “Jason? Oh, gods, no, he was there. He saw it all—well, the first part, at least.” She raised her eyebrows. “And that doesn’t make it easier?” “No! He’s going to punch me.” She chuckled. “I highly doubt that.” She then stood, cracking her knuckles. “Do you want me to find him for you?” Nico looked to the floor. “If you really think he could help me.” “I really think he could,” she replied. She then headed for the door, but stopped before she opened it. “And Nico?” “What?” “I know you think you messed everything up, but everyone always thinks that about themselves. Will probably thinks it’s all his fault, too. I’m sure you guys will work things out.” He stared at her. “When did I ever say it was Will?” She rolled her eyes. “Gods, Nico, we all know. You’re so blatantly obvious all the time that I’m surprised it took him this long.” She sighed, shaking her head and turning the doorknob. “I’d wish you good luck, but I don’t believe in it. So I’ll tell you instead to man up, di Angelo.” He managed a smile. “In true Roman fashion.” She saluted, Nico returned it, and then she was gone.

  Felicity's heat ended and Oliver is headed back to work. Felicity was taking another day off. She needs to see a doctor. Oliver hopes to meet her at her appointment. His mom called to tell him she made it for Felicity since every Omega needs to see a doctor after her heat.    "You're awfully quiet today, Oliver." Digg notes from the driver's seat.    Oliver meets his gaze in the rearview mirror, "A lot on my mind."    "Anything I need to know about?"    Oliver shakes his head. He hears Digg mumble, "This can't be good...."    Oliver ignores it.    "Digg, take me to my parents' house."    Digg makes a  U turn and heads to the outskirts of the city. Oliver watches the familiar markers as they ride the route he knows well. All too soon, they are headed up the long drive to his childhood home.    Oliver jumps from the car before it is at a complete stop. He runs up the front steps. Raisa has the door open for him, "Mister Oliver." She welcomes him.    Oliver smiles and kisses her cheek, "Where is my father?"    Raisa looks worried, but answers, "His office. Your Mother has gone to see Mrs. Queen."    Oliver nods. He knows his mom is taking Felicity to her appointment since all this is new to her and Moira wants her to feel safe. He knows now he won’t make her appointment. He pushes aside the guilt because he needs to protect his wife from Laurel and her delusions.    Oliver moves through the house. He walks into his father's office to find Isabel there. He rolls his eyes. He hates her and he hates that she is in their family home.    "Oliver, what a nice surprise." Robert tells his son as he stands and walks over to him.    Oliver eyes Isabel, "I need to speak to you. Alone."    His dad looks a bit surprised by the request, "Very well, Isabel..." He points for the door.    "We aren't done talking about this. Our child will be born a legitimate child, Robert." Isabel insists.    Oliver looks between his dad and Isabel.    Robert's face grows dark, " YOUR bastard is your problem, not mine. The child will receive a stipend and that is all it will get from me. It is what they all get."    Isabel smiles and slinks over to his dad, "I am different. WE are different. Our child will be your heir." She says playing with Robert's tie.    Oliver can't believe this shit works on his old man. He waits as Robert watches Isabel. Then Robert smiles, "You are like the rest and easily replaced. Now, go. My son needs me."    Isabel rears back shocked to be dismissed.    "Isabel, I have put up with your tantrums because you fuck well. I am done now. It is time we both move on." Robert tells her. His dad calls security and soon enough, Rob is there to take her away one way or another.    Oliver looks to Rob and wonders if it hurts him to see another mistress tossed away like Rob and his mom were by Robert Queen.  Everyone is disposable to Robert Queen, but women most of all.    The door closes and Robert looks to his son, "What is it?"    Oliver takes a deep breath, "Laurel called me. She says she is pregnant. I don't know what to do..." Oliver feels like a little boy again crying to his dad to fix what he broke.    Robert laughs, "She is not pregnant." He walks to his desk and sits upon its surface, "I make sure none of the women you are with can conceive during their time with you."    Oliver sits down relief flooding his body, "You're sure?"    "Oliver.." Robert rests his hand on his son's shoulder, "Until your first born son arrives from your wife, I will not let you get anyone pregnant. We need to insure our lineage. That is one thing I will never put at risk."    Oliver nods. It is backwards and wrong, but he is relieved his dad thinks of these things. Oliver doesn't want a child with anyone but Felicity. She is his true mate and partner.    "How did Felicity's heat go?" Robert asks as he walks behind his desk and takes a seat.    "Fine." Oliver tells him.    Robert waits and when his son offers nothing new he continues, "Did you bond?"    Oliver shakes his head, "We decided to do it, but Laurel called while Felicity was resting and I couldn't seal her to me when I might have a child on the way with someone else."    Robert laughs, "Your moral code is charming. Wasted, but charming."    Oliver ignores the taunt.   "I think you should wait until the time is right and I will tell you when that is." Robert tells his son.    "Dad, I think my mate and I will decide when it is right for us."  Oliver says.   Oliver decides to let it go. He and Felicity will decide their fate, not his dad, "I need to get to work."    "I will be in later. I have some things to take care of here first." Robert tells his son.    Oliver waves as he leaves the room. He walks through the house and out to his waiting car. He feels much lighter now knowing his future with his wife is safe and secure. She never has to know about what Laurel tried to pull.   ===========================================   After Felicity's appointment with the doctor to talk about her heat and make sure she is okay, Moira dropped her and Thea off at the spa. Felicity was excited to be pampered. Not that Oliver didn't pamper her and take care of her, but she needs to feel girly again.    Felicity has her hair touched up. Root maintenance has fallen by the wayside lately. She had a mani and pedi with Thea while they gossiped and giggled like true sisters. Her facial makes her feel beautiful and now she is about to get a relaxing massage before getting dressed and returning home to her husband.    Felicity is lying on the table when she hears two women talking outside the door as she awaits her masseuse. One of the voices she recognizes immediately.    "Ollie and I are not over." Laurel giggles.    "The papers all say he is completely smitten with his new wife."    Laurel snorts, "He is definitely NOT! He is a Queen after all and they need more than one woman. I understand that about Ollie. She does not."    Felicity sits up and puts her robe on.   The other voice just hums.    "I am the one carrying his baby, not her."   "You're pregnant?" the other voice asks.    "Yes. We are both so excited. I told him over the phone since that witch wouldn't let him out to play this week. He is as excited as I am." Laurel practically purrs.    Felicity pulls open the door. The spa tech clearly shocked. Laurel clearly is NOT shocked to see her there. Felicity realizes Laurel knew she was in there.    Felicity walks around them both and to the dressing room. After she is dressed, she leaves a note at reception apologizing to Thea. She then hails a cab.   The ride to QC is one filled with self doubt and self recriminations for Felicity. Oliver loves her, right? They just had the most intimate connection the last few days. He wouldn't lie to her. He loves her....right?    Felicity replays their relationship over in her head. They have a connection, a bond unlike anything she's felt before and he said the same. Felicity is about to tell the cab driver to take her home when she remembers Oliver backing out of bonding. Is that why he kept avoiding it all through her heat? He changed his mind?    "Miss, we're here." The driver says pulling her from her thoughts.    She slips him some money and gets out of the cab. She looks up at the huge building. She takes a deep breath and walks inside. Felicity Smoak doesn't avoid confrontation or bury her head in the sand or play second best to anyone, ever.   Felicity takes the elevator up. She exits it and walks to Sara's desk. Sara smiles when she sees her, "Hello, Mrs. Queen. I will tell Oliver you're here."    Felicity nods. She would ask her to call her Felicity, but this could be the last time they see one another so why bother. She doesn't wait for Oliver to say for her to come in.    "Oh, Mrs. Queen...I don't think..."    Felicity opens the door to find Oliver at his desk. He smiles when he sees her, "Hey, hun I've missed you." He stands and walks over to her and wraps her in his arms. "Do you want anything?"    Felicity shakes her head still in his arms. Taking in his scent and the feel of his arms around her. She is committing it all to memory just in case. “How was your appointment..I am so sorry I missed it.”   Felicity just nods. If he has learned one thing about his wife she likes to talk. He loves to listen to her talk.   "Honey, what is it?" He asks as he moves her back to look into her eyes.    "Is it true?" Felicity asks, damning the tears that are falling from  her eyes.    "What true?" He asks her. His brow wrinkled to show he is worried about her.    "Is Laurel Lance pregnant with your child?"    Oliver closes his eyes for a moment. He opens them, "Who told you that?"    "All that matters is if it is true or not." She steps away and folds her arms around herself.    "No. It is not true. I haven't been with her since the island and I will never be with her again. I promise you." Oliver tells her.    She listens carefully. If she were pregnant, it wouldn't have been Oliver cheating on her. The baby would have been from his previous life, one he has left behind for her.   She smiles up at him, "Okay."    "Okay? We are okay?"    She nods, "Yes. I'm sorry. I should have trusted you and if she were pregnant it would have been before us. I can't hold that against you."    Oliver takes her hand and leads her to the sitting area of his office. They sit hand in hand facing each other, "Felicity, I am sorry for the life I led before you. I hate that my past can come between us."    She shakes her head, "No. Your past can't come between us. WE won't allow it."    Oliver is giving her that look like she is the most precious thing he has ever seen, "How did I get so lucky?"    "Perfect timing and great taste?" She teases him.    They both laugh.    "Oliver?"    "Yeah?" He asks as he pushes some hair behind her ear.    "You weren't shocked when I asked you that question. You knew she was saying this?" Felicity asks as she holds her breath.   He nods, "I did. She called during your heat.....I was going to take care of it after your heat had passed. You are and always will be my priority." He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it.    "Would you have told me?" She asks him.    "There is nothing to tell. Dad gives the women a shot of birth control and all must take it before they were picked for me. She can't be pregnant. It is a lie." Oliver tells her.    "Oliver!"   "What?" He looks around clearly unsure what is wrong.   "A woman is claiming to be carrying my husband's child. I have a right to know so if she did come up to me or play a game for me to find out, then I would be prepared."    Oliver looks at her, "Oh. I guess I never thought about it. You are right. I should have told you as soon as you heat was over. I am sorry."    Felicity knows Oliver was spoiled and not taught a lot of things. They are both a work in progress and need to get through this together. "I have one more question and then we can put this behind us."    "Okay." He smiles.    "Have you changed your mind about our bonding?" Felicity's voice breaks a bit as her heart stops. She is terrified of losing him or finding out he isn't as committed.   Oliver pulls her onto his lap. She makes a little squeal. He smiles at her. Once she is on his lap, "No. I have not changed my mind about bonding. Or about us." He looks at her with such love that it takes her breath away, "Felicity, I didn't want to burden you during your heat. I also didn't want to bond you to me under false pretenses. I respect you too much to seal you to me when I didn't know if Laurel was pregnant with my child."    Felicity smiles at him, "Thank you. Thank you for telling me the truth. Thank you for respecting me that much." She smiles and kisses him, "I love you so much and maybe it is me who doesn't deserve you."    He kisses her and it takes away any doubt she had about them. Oliver loves her and she loves him. Oliver is her soulmate and will be her bond mate soon.    ========================================   After Felicity leaves Oliver takes a few moments to think. He needs to do what is best for his wife and his marriage to her. Oliver refuses to let Laurel cause trouble for him or Felicity. They are married.   Oliver sits in his chair and looks out the huge windows. He looks out over the city that has always been his home, his playground. He has been above the normal people. His family, their money and his Alpha allowing him to do almost anything without consequence. Now, he is paying the price, but he will not allow Felicity to pay it with him.    Oliver is thinking about his choices and his life. He doesn't want to have a life like his father. He doesn't want illegitimate children with faceless women he only cares to fuck. He wants a committed life with his wife and their family. He smiles thinking of kids-- until he remembers what his dad would do with any child he has...   Oliver reaches for his phone on his desk, "Sara?"    "Yeah?"    "Call Laurel and ask her to come by my office ASAP." Oliver instructs.    There is a long silence.    "Sara?"    He looks up to see Sara walking in the door to his office, "Are you out of your fucking mind?"    Oliver blinks up at his assistant.    "You have a beautiful, wonderful, loving wife and you want to call MY SISTER? The woman who is basically Cruella de Vil without the soul?"    Oliver smirks at the joke. He doesn't have time for this, "Yes. I want to see your sister. Please call her for me?"    Sara folds her arms, "No. I am suddenly feeling sick----of your shit and need the rest of the day." Sara spins on her heel and storms out of his office.    Oliver can honestly say he was not expecting that. He thought Sara was jealous at first. Thinking he was choosing a liaison with Laurel over her. Which he is most definitely not.    He grabs his cell and calls Laurel.    "Ollie? Have you called to discuss our baby?" Laurel purrs at him. She thinks she's caught him.    "As a matter of fact, yes. Can you come by my office?"    There is a pause, "You want to discuss our baby in your office? Isn't that a little...formal?"    "Are you going to meet me or not?" Oliver challenges her.    "I will be there in thirty minutes." Laurel replies quickly.    Oliver smiles, "Now, I've got you."    Thirty minutes later, Laurel comes into his office without knocking. He notices she is wearing a loose fitting dress. He almost rolls his eyes. She looks upset before sitting down across from him. Oliver normally would stand when a lady enters the room, but she is no lady.    Laurel reaches in her bag and slides some papers across to him.    He looks at them, "What is that?" He leans back with no intention of picking up whatever she is giving him.    She smiles, "I took the liberty of drawing up your divorce papers. We can have Felicity sign them tonight." She smiles at him, "In thirty days, you two will be divorced and then we can be married."    Oliver nods slowly. "And you did all this today?"    "Oliver, I always know what you need. "    Oliver shouldn't be stunned but he is very stunned. He wonders how far she will go to have him? How far would she take her charade?    "Do you have a prenup in there, too?" He raises an eyebrow.    Laurel's smile falters, "Uh--I...why would we need one?"    Oliver sits up, "First of all, I am worth a lot of money. Second to secure our child's future and most importantly, I would need you to agree that I can have as many lovers as I want. You may have none." He smiles.   Oliver watches as the mask she so carefully constructs falters. She takes a deep breath and the smile is back, "I can do that right after you sign the divorce papers."    "You will allow me other women?"    Laurel swallows before replying, "I know a man like you has needs. I can't fulfill them all."    Oliver squints, "And if Felicity is one of them?"    Laurel looks aghast, "Oliver..."    "What?"    "I would tolerate her....if I must."    Oliver smirks, "Oh, you must." Oliver’s stomach turns at the thought of making Felicity a mistress. She is his one and only from here on out.    "Very well." She grabs a pen from his desk and slides it and the papers over to him.    In perfect timing, there is a knock on his door, "Come in!"    "Laurel, you know Jean Loring? Our family attorney?"    Laurel looks from him to Jean, "Yes. Hello." Laurel looks to Oliver, "Why is she here?"    "I invited her."    "Why?" Laurel asks cautiously.    A man walks into his office drawing everyone's attention.    "Laurel, this is Dr. Lam our family physician."    Laurel shakes his hand and then looks to Oliver. The look on her face is priceless. He almost laughs.    "Why are they here, Ollie?"    Oliver comes around his desk. "Dr. Lam is here to sonogram. You brought the machine?" Oliver asks him.    "I can do a fetal heartbeat with this." Dr Lam pulls a device from his bag. "If there is one then we will, of course move onto blood work to make sure everything is fine with the baby and the mother."   Oliver nods while Laurel's face drains of any color it held.    "And Jean is here because if you are pregnant, YOU will sign papers giving me custody of the child."    "I won't let him touch me or allow you to take our baby." Laurel shouts.    "If you two could excuse us for a moment." Oliver asks. They both nod and exit his office.    Oliver grabs Laurel by the arm, "You will do as I say. Did you honestly think you could just say you're pregnant and I would divorce my wife and marry you? Really?"    She nods, "Yes, of course. WE are in love."    Oliver scoffs, "If you are pregnant, and if it were mine...I would take it and raise it with my wife. My family has all the power in this town. You are nothing, a nobody. I could destroy you with a snap of my finger...."    Laurel recoils, "You...you wouldn't do that to me." She says softly.    "Oh, I would, Laurel. Do not doubt what I will do to protect my wife." He moves closer to her, intimidating her, "Felicity is my world. I love her more than anything on this earth. I will fight for her, I would die for her...killing you would be just another body on my list." He knows his eyes become like an animal’s as he looks at her. He wants her scared. He wants her to know he isn't playing games with her.    "Now...do I need to call the doctor back in here or do you want to admit you're lying?"    She shakes her head, "I just want you to love me." She cries.    "I don't love you. I'm sorry if that hurts, but I don't. I never will. Baby or no baby, I am NEVER going to love you or want to be with you."    Laurel starts crying harder, "Why can't you love me?"    Oliver almost feels guilty, but he knows her too well to fall for her tricks, "It doesn't matter. All that matters is I don't love you. I don't want to be with you. I am not my father. I will not take other women to bed and hurt my wife."    Laurel grabs her bag and flees the room. Jean and Dr. Lam both leave after her. Oliver sits back in his chair. He really hopes that is the last he ever has to deal with Laurel Lance. He calls Digg and asks him to put a tail on her to make sure she leaves Felicity alone. Digg will put one of their best men on the case.    ==============================================   Felicity decided after leaving Oliver at the office to be a better wife. She decided to cook him a dinner. She has never cooked before in her life. She either ate with her parents or picked up something from the cafeteria at work. Felicity is now looking at the mess in the kitchen and the food that is definitely not going to be edible. She does what any grown married woman would do! She calls her Mom.    She grabs her phone and dials her Mom. When she hears Donna's voice Felicity starts to cry. "Mommmmmmm."    "Felicity, hun, what is wrong?" Donna is clearly worried about her little girl.    Felicity can't speak for several minutes. Finally she gets herself under control, "I am calling because I can't cook my husband a dinner! What kind of wife am I?" She sniffles and then the verbal diarrhea starts and she is helpless to stop it, "Laurel is saying she's pregnant with Oliver's baby--how can I compete with her? Mom, she is beautiful and put together and everything the Mainlanders want in a woman! I'm just... ME ." She weeps.    Donna allows her to cry. Finally when Felicity's sob let up, her mom speaks up, "Baby..Oliver didn't marry you for your cooking skills. Order some dinner and put it on the table. He will appreciate the effort."    "Really?" Felicity asks sounding like a little girl again.    "Yes, hun."    Felicity sniffles, "Okay. I can do that."    "You bet your ass you can!" Donna cheers. Then Donna turns serious, "Now, what about this Laurel and being pregnant?"    "Oliver assures me she isn't, but she is telling people she is and he will take care of it." Felicity offers half heartedly. She trusts Oliver and believes in him, but she is sad.    "You let him and if he doesn't, you make sure you do. Protect what is yours, baby girl."    "I will."    "Are you okay, baby?"    Felicity debates her answer in her head before speaking, "The Mainland is not what I expected. I can handle it. I can handle anything with Oliver by my side."    "The marriage is okay?"    Felicity smiles, "Yes, Mom. He is amazing. He takes such good care of me and puts my needs first. He is an amazing man. I've never been happier."    "I am so happy for you, my sweet girl." Donna's happiness clear in her voice, "Do you feel better now?"   Felicity blows her nose before answering, "Yes. I just needed to talk to you about it." She says sheepishly.    "We all need our parents at times. Just remember to lean on your husband. He loves you and only you. The way that man looks at you....it's special. Don't doubt him."    "Thanks, Mom." Felicity misses her mom so much, "I need to go order dinner for my husband."    "I love you, baby girl."    "I love you, too, Mom." Felicity disconnects the call feeling much better.    The front door opens and Oliver comes in. He smiles at her then sees the kitchen. Felicity rocks back on her heels and smiles, "I tried to cook...."    Oliver slips off his jacket then pulls his tie off while looking at the kitchen. He turns to her, "You wanted to cook for me?"    She nods sheepishly, "I did."    Oliver smiles brightly and moves to hug her, "No one has ever tried to cook for me before."    "Don't get too excited...it all burned up." She moves back and makes an explosion motion with her hands, "Poof! Gone."    Oliver laughs and pulls her into his side, "It's the thought that counts."    "Yeah?"    "Always." He kisses her temple. He walks away, "Lucky for you I learned to cook."    "You can cook?"    He tilts his head, "Doubting me, Mrs. Queen?"    "Never." She shakes her head.    Oliver cleans up her mess then cooks an amazing dinner. Felicity is floored by how good it is. "Who taught you?"    "Raisa and Digg." He says as he takes a bite of his perfectly cooked steak, "She taught me gourmet meals. Digg made me learn about protein and carbs, the fuel I need for my body to perform better."    She smiles and waggles her eyebrows, "Yay, Digg."    Oliver blushes and smiles. Then his face turns serious, "I took care of the Laurel situation. She will not be a problem."    Felicity puts down her fork, "Did you kill her?"    Oliver looks hurt, "No."     "I am sorry...I was joking. Not funny, obviously." She takes his hand. "Thank you for handling it."    Oliver tells her what he did. Felicity is impressed by his planning and execution of his plan, "Remind me never to cross you."    "I could never be mean to you, ever. I don't care what you do or have done." He promises her.    "I love you." She moves to sit in his lap, "I am so lucky to have you."    "I love you, too...let's go to bed." He stands up swooping her up in his arms.    "Did you get enough the last few days?"    Oliver lifts an eyebrow, "Of you? Not possible."   

April was usually one of James’s least favorite months. The weather was wet and cold, and with it being the last month of the semester, it was always busy with exams and projects. This year, however, he had the pleasure of knowing it was his beloved’s birth month; even though he didn’t know the precise date, that made it all the more fun as, day after day, he greeted Rose with a “Happy Birthday” snog. Yet every day, she giggled and said, “Not today.” He wasn’t sure what he would do on the morning she kissed him and replied instead with, “Thank you.” Despite his brilliant, magnificent brain, he was stumped on a way to make an ordinary day extraordinary for her. Though she said she didn’t want anything for her birthday, he couldn’t help but preemptively get her a simple gift: a silver necklace with an infinity heart pendant. The heart was studded with blue zircon—one of his birthstones—while the infinity loop was studded with small diamonds, her birthstone. Cliché, he knew, but the design had caught his attention. He hoped Rose would like it. James had been carrying it around with him since the start of the month to be presented to her on her date of birth. Whenever the hell that was. The weeks seemed to fly by, and still it wasn’t her birthday. He had several chilling moments of panic that maybe he somehow missed it, but then resigned himself to the fact it must be at the end of the month. Her so-called hint to him had told him it wasn’t the first or last day of the month… Rose would be cheeky enough to call that a hint if it turned out her birthday was the second to last day of the month. Nevertheless, James was having fun with their little game and worked to make the month special for Rose. Though he knew she had been teasing when she’d suggested they make love every day so that she would wake up to birthday sex, they nearly met that goal, thanks to Rose staying overnight at his house more often than not. They were both growing to love the routine of cohabitating; James would drive them into the university in the morning, they would attend their respective classes, then they would meet up at the end of the day for him to drive them home again. Even on the days when one of them started earlier than the other, they drove in together, regardless. While James’s main goal was to make April particularly special for Rose, he found himself realizing that even if it wasn’t her birthday month, he wouldn’t have done anything differently. It was a happy coincidence that the month happened to be filled with a multitude of romantic date night opportunities. He had surprised her with tickets to the play put on by the university’s theater program, and had told her they would make an entire night out of it. He had dressed in a suit and tie; she had donned a gorgeous evening dress. Reminiscent of their Valentine’s Day plans, they’d had an early dinner out at a nice restaurant before driving to the university for the show. And when they’d gotten home, they peeled the other out of their nice clothes and made sweet love until midnight. And when he took her to the cherry blossom festival in Washington, D.C., it wasn’t a birthday surprise, either. He would have wanted to tour the capital with Rose and bask in the beauty of the cherry trees no matter the month. There was nothing more romantic than walking hand-in-hand with Rose beneath the pink and white trees while the soft petals floated down around them. Nothing made him happier than seeing her face light up with awe as she took photograph after photograph of the scenery. Though the cherry blossoms weren’t as stunning as typical years, thanks to a warm snap in February followed by an arctic blast that killed some buds in mid-March, the scenery was stunning nevertheless. They’d had fun exploring the various museums and historic sites in the city as well, but James’s favorite part was watching Rose scribble furiously in her sketchbook when they got back to their hotel room each night. She filled over a dozen pages during their four-day trip; she shared every single one with him, including the portrait of him she’d drawn one morning when she had awoken before him, and had occupied herself with sketching him asleep in the nude. Unlike her previous nude sketches of him, she did not cover his nether regions with a sheet, or simply not draw them at all. No, she had drawn every naked inch of him, down to the morning erection he had been sporting (which had also prompted her to draw a caricature of that very piece of his anatomy, making him howl with laughter when she eventually showed him the picture of a very prominent, very erect penis on a teeny tiny little person).  Playing tourist with Rose was one of James’s favorite things to do, so even if it had not been Rose’s birth month, he would not have changed a thing. It was a mere bonus, pure happenstance, that they managed to go on so many romantic dates that month. As the month plowed on, bringing him ever-closer to Rose’s elusive birthday and to the end of the semester, another date idea came to him. And this time, he intended to make it double as a birthday gift. With only a week and a half left to go in the month, and Rose’s birthday falling somewhere in that time frame, James woke up one morning to an email from the student life office at the university. They were advertising discounted tickets to a Philadelphia Phillies baseball game at the end of the month. Perfect! He loved showing Rose more of the state she lived in, as well as the culture of America. And honestly, what was more American than a baseball game? Rose was still asleep as James read the details of the email, though their alarm was due to go off in a few minutes. He silenced it on his phone and instead gently woke Rose up with a series of kisses to any part of her face not smooshed into her pillow. She grunted and buried her face completely into the pillow. Chuckling, he tried again, this time pressing the long expanse of his body into hers. He shivered when his hips rubbed into her upper thigh; he woke up hard nearly every morning, and today was no exception. Some mornings, he didn’t feel a pressing need to do anything with it; others, when he snuggled up against Rose, his heartbeat concentrated into a dull, throbbing, insistent pulse between his legs. He was experiencing the latter, and hoped she would be in the mood to make love with him. “Rose,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into her hair. He wriggled down a few inches and tucked his nose into the join of her neck and shoulder. He kissed her there and smiled when she shuddered. “Rooooose.” “M’sleepin’,” she mumbled, but she tilted her head to free up her neck for him. “Oh? Well, I guess we can’t partake in any morning activities I might’ve had planned,” he lamented, though he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses to her neck. Goosebumps spread across her skin and he could hear her breathing going ragged the longer he kissed her. She moaned softly when he scraped his teeth across her ear lobe. Finally, she stopped pretending. Turning her face out of her pillow, Rose slung her arm around his shoulders, hauling him closer for a proper kiss. “Got another date idea,” he breathed between kisses. “Don’t care,” she answered, chasing his lips. “I’d like for it to double as your birthday gift.” “Don’t care,” she repeated. His head emptied of all coherent thought when she reached down between them and took him in her hand, pumping him firmly. His nerves sparked with pleasure as desire settled heavily in his lower belly. “But I… oh, blimey… I care… God…” She nipped at his bottom lip and gave him a small squeeze on the upstroke that made stars burst behind his eyes. “You care more about that than what we’re doing?” He could hardly draw in breath, so focused was he on the addictive rhythm of her hand. Each drag of her fist up and down his length heightened his need for her until he was certain nothing in the world was more important than being inside her. But the smirk on her face brought out his competitive nature. “Well, I’m quite cl-clever,” he choked out, trembling when she tightened her hold around him and picked up the pace. “I can walk and chew gum… talk and have se-ex shit!” Rose guided him between her legs, nudging the tip of him into her wet heat. God, he’d barely paid any attention to her and yet she was so ready. He swallowed down his impatient whimper when she merely teased him, rubbing him through her folds rather than guiding him in. “Hmm, I clearly am not doing a good enough job,” she mused, her voice frustratingly steady while he could hardly contain his gasps and sighs. His brain nearly short-circuited. Not doing a good enough job? It was taking every ounce of concentration and restraint he had to try to hold this conversation with her; he would be done for if she tried any harder. “The university is sponsoring another trip to Phillies… er, Philadelphia,” he squeaked, squeezing his eyes shut to think past the desperate need throbbing through him. “Oh?” she asked, voice breathless as she stimulated herself with the head of his erection. “Yeah, yep.” He cleared his throat, hoping it would stop cracking. “A trip to a Phillies game. Professional base-ball!” Rose slung her leg over his hip and took him inside of her in one smooth, deep movement. Her momentum sent him to his back. Taking full advantage and giving him no reprieve, she sat astride him and began a brutal rhythm that stole his breath, stole his thoughts. “Shit!” he rasped when the burning pressure in his belly bottomed out. Don’t come, oh God, please don’t come… Baseball. Think of baseball. Phillies, Philadelphia, bus trip, baseball game, showing Rose the stadium, teaching Rose the game… Rose… Rose…  Rose was squeezing him from the inside, giving him such delicious friction as she arched her hips hard into his. Fighting a losing battle, he choked out, “Sorry… gonna come… sorry… shit!” Rose caught his lips in a searing kiss as he grunted and panted and moaned his way through his release, trying not to be mortified and to instead enjoy the pleasure and love flooding through him. He was trembling when his ears stopped roaring. Cheek burning, he groaned and covered his face with his hands. “That was delightful,” Rose said, a grin in her voice as she lightly tugged at his fingers. “That was embarrassing,” he countered, moving his hands to her hips. “Sorry.” She slowly pulled off of him and collapsed onto her back beside him. “You do realize I was trying to do that, right? You’re always so damn considerate and attentive. It was my turn to focus solely on you and getting you off.” “I feel selfish for coming first,” he complained. Rose shrugged and pecked a kiss to his temple. “How do you think I feel when you pleasure me more than once before you get off?” “Hopefully extremely satisfied,” he drawled, winking at her. She rolled her eyes, but kissed him soundly. “I enjoyed doing that very much for you, so shut up about it.” He zipped his fingers across his lips, though a grin stretched across them. He caught her lips in another kiss as he let his fingers walk down her body, between her legs. She must have woken up as randy as he had been, because it hardly took any time at all before she arched her back and cried her pleasure into their quiet bedroom. As she panted and trembled beside him, he stroked her hips, her belly, her thighs, any part of her he could reach, and tried his initial conversation again. “The university is sponsoring a trip to a Phillies baseball game,” he said. “Have you watched baseball? It’s a fun sport. One of my favorites, actually. I probably ought to get my UK citizenship revoked for that, but I can’t get into the football matches. Though plenty of people find baseball to be boring too. To each their own. Anyways, tickets are twenty dollars, and it covers admission to the game and transportation to and from the stadium. It’s on April twenty-sixth. It’s a night game… 7:05 start time. I would like to make this your birthday gift. Well. One of your birthday gifts, since, really, I want to go to the game anyway, to hell whether it’s your birthday or not. But since I’ve only got about ten days left to choose from, I figure that’s a close enough window to claim it as a birthday gift for you. What do you think? April twenty-sixth… does that sound like a birthday gift to you?” Rose giggled and pinched his side, drawling, “Very subtle, love.” James pouted. “Seriously? You’re still not gonna give me your birth date? I’ve been patient all month long!” Rose cackled. “You liar! You have not at all been patient. At least once a day you beg me to tell you when my birthday is.” “That is me being patient,” he grumbled, though he grinned when Rose laughed at him again. Even though they would need to get up soon, he tightened his hold around her and snuggled closer to her soft, warm body. “Wanna go to the Phillies game?” “Sounds like fun,” she replied, running her fingers through his hair. His scalp prickled pleasantly, and he could have easily fallen asleep. But alas… “We need to get up,” he groaned, burying his face farther into her neck. Rose heaved out a sigh, clearly as reluctant to move as he was. “Wanna share a shower?” “How could I say no to that?” With a parting kiss, they rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. oOoOo “You know, I’ve never been to a professional sports stadium before,” Rose said as they strolled, hand in hand, away from the packed parking lot towards Citizens Bank Park, home of the Philadelphia Phillies baseball team. “Wasn’t much into sports back home, and didn’t really have the money for it.” James gave her hand a squeeze and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Something was… off. She’d been agitated when he’d picked her up from her flat that morning to drive her to the university. She was short and snippy with him, but insisted she was fine even though she obviously wasn’t, which had only annoyed him in return. He had nearly called off their date to Philly, since she obviously wasn’t having a good day and he didn’t think he could stomach an entire night of forced joviality. However, after classes, she had met him in the library as planned and was decked out in a red Phillies sweatshirt and matching lipstick, greeting him as though their tense morning hadn’t happened. “Where did you get that?” he’d asked, fluttering his hands at her top. “The internet. Turns out everything exists on the internet,” she’d teased, bumping her hip into his. He had been thrown by her chipper mood, and Rose must have sensed that. She reached up for a hug and squeezed him so tightly, it was as if all the tension that had been settled over his body was suddenly gone. She lightly kissed his cheek and whispered, “Sorry for this morning.” “What was the matter?” he asked, keeping her in his arms for several more seconds. “I’ll explain later,” she said. “I don’t really wanna talk about it now. I wanna go watch some baseball!” It had taken everything he had to not snap at her to just bloody talk to him. Instead, he promised himself he would check in with Rose after the game, or perhaps tomorrow, since it would be late by the time they got home. But he wanted to know what was bothering her, and what had been intermittently troubling her these past few weeks. That dark day she had had nearly a month ago still niggled at the back of his mind. He wanted to ask her what had happened, but so long had passed that he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Hey Rose! Remember that day you yelled at me in the food court then started crying? What happened? No, that wouldn’t do. Because what if she didn’t remember? What if nothing at all had happened and she’d had a breakdown over a bunch of little things that didn’t matter anymore? He had been hoping she would tell him on her own time, because he didn’t want to press. And it wasn’t as though he had forgotten about the episode, but he often got too caught up in the present with Rose that he wouldn’t think of it until he was alone again. Part of his brain admonished him, telling him that he could easily have that conversation with Rose through text. Presently, they scanned their admission tickets at the front gate and stepped through the turnstile into the stadium. James inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of cigarette smoke, fresh air, grass, and greasy food. There was a unique and distinct scent of a baseball stadium that he loved. Rose let go of his hand and darted forward, her gaze locked on the field in front of them. James followed, smiling to himself. He stood behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist as Rose drank in the sight of the enormous baseball friend in front of them. The grass was lush and verdant, neatly trimmed in the familiar crisscross pattern most baseball diamonds favored. The dirt of the infield looked soft and dry, though the grounds crew were in the middle of hosing it down. The late evening sun cast long shadows across the field while the stadium lights, already switched on in preparation for the night game, created a multi-shadow effect as well. “Selfie?” James asked, fishing his phone from his pocket. “Need some help?” James glanced over and saw a young couple approaching them. The woman held her hand out for his phone, which he handed over. He then wrapped his arm around Rose’s middle. She turned into his side and linked her arms loosely around his hips. The young woman took several photographs for them, all of them beautiful. James thanked her, then reciprocated the gesture, snapping a photograph of the couple with the baseball field behind them. When the couple had departed, James took Rose’s hand again and they leisurely strolled around the concourse of the stadium. There was a beer stand every dozen paces, it seemed, and though it was ridiculously overpriced, James forked over the money and bought them a beer apiece. They sipped it as they walked, inspecting the various food stands and merchandise on display. “What the bloody hell is that?” James laughed when Rose picked up a plush toy of a furry green creature with a plump belly and elongated snout. “He’s the team’s mascot,” James answered. “The Phillie Phanatic.” “What is it?” James shrugged. “The Phanatic. He’s not really anything, I suppose. He’s his own creature. Don’t knock him, though; the fans love him.” Rose glanced dubiously up at him, but replaced the toy. James made a mental note to order one for her as a gag gift.  As they continued walking, James’s belly rumbled with hunger when he smelled the intoxicating aroma of bread, beef, and cheese.  “If I get a cheesesteak, will you eat half of it?” he asked. “‘Cos I wanna get crab fries too, but I can’t eat both of those by myself. Actually, the crab fries are right over there.” He took Rose’s shoulders in his hands and pivoted her gently, pointing to a concession stand with a giant logo that read Chickie’s & Pete’s. He rooted in his pocket for a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Will you get us an order of fries? With cheese.” “Er… okay,” Rose said, blinking. “What the hell is a crab fry?” James snorted. “French fries—chips—with old bay seasoning. They’re really good, I promise.” Rose leaned up and pecked a kiss to his cheek. “You’re lucky I trust your taste in food.” She left him to go get their crab fries, while he stood in the Tony Luke’s line for a cheesesteak. Though the line was nearly thirty-people deep, it moved very quickly. Ten minutes later, he spotted Rose waiting for him in a secluded corner near the ramp they would need to take to go to their second-deck seats. The university had bought out an entire section in right field, and James recognized many of the students lounging in the seats. He had managed to procure front-row end seats for him and Rose. He allowed her to take the end seat, then plopped unceremoniously onto the hard blue chair beside her. “Beautiful, innit?” he asked, nudging his elbow into her ribs. “It’s a gorgeous night,” she agreed. “Look at that sunset.” “View’s nice too,” James said, leaning forward in his seat to look down at the field. Apart from losing a little bit of vision of the right field playing area directly beneath them, they could see the entire ballfield very well. There was a half hour to go before game time, so they ate their dinner and chatted mindlessly with each other and with their fellow schoolmates who had come on the trip as well. They posed for a giant group photo that was then shared to all of the university’s social media pages. James was full and content by the time the Phillies players took the field, and he draped his arm around Rose’s shoulders as he explained the rules of baseball to her. The game was fairly straightforward, with no tricky calls he had to break down for her. There was a ton of action in the first few innings, with both team getting a few home runs, including a grand slam by one of the Phillies’ stars. The stadium erupted with cheers and the LED Liberty Bell began to ring as the Phillie trotted his way around the bases. Rose appeared to be caught up in the atmosphere, jumping and cheering along with the crowd. It was fun, James thought, to be sharing this with Rose. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for other discounted ticket specials, even if it wasn’t for the Phillies. A minor league team was based close to the university, and he imagined he could get tickets fairly cheaply, if it would be something Rose was interested in. During one of the inning breaks, Rose had turned to him, flushed and beaming. She looked breathtaking, with the lights from the stadium glowing behind her and casting her hair in a golden halo around her head. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart kick up a notch. Rose frowned at him. “What? You all right?” “Yeah. Yeah, I…” He swallowed thickly, then smiled at her. “You’re beautiful.” Her cheeks flushed a deeper red and a shy smile crossed her face. He reached over to brush a stray wisp of hair from her face, but then kept his hand on her cheek. “Love you.” They moved at the same time, leaning closer until their noses brushed, then their lips pressed together. The noises of the stadium disappeared, lost in the heavy pounding of his heart as he kissed Rose. Her mouth was warm and soft, though felt a little funny with the slightly waxy texture of her lipstick. He had meant for it to be a quick little kiss, though he should have known better; how often was he able to give Rose only one kiss? Angling his head slightly to the side, James lost himself in her, in the warmth of her hands. One of them was on the nape of his neck, the other at his waist, clinging to his sweatshirt as he devoured her lips. His tongue swept along hers, then trailed across the roof of her mouth. He delighted in her full-body shiver. Before he could do it again, there was an explosion of noise around them. “Hey, you’re not making a porno here!” James wrenched away from Rose, blinking dazedly at the person who had interrupted them. It was one of their fellow students. He nudged James’s shoulder, then pointed towards the giant screen above left-center field. His own dazed face looked back at him. Kiss Cam. Oh, dear… He grinned sheepishly at the camera, then pecked a chaste kiss to Rose’s temple. She looked equally abashed. Blessedly, the camera panned away from them, though the crowd of university students around them continued jeering and teasing. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he murmured to Rose. “S’not your fault. I wasn’t exactly beating you off of me.” He snorted and kissed her cheek. “You’ve got lipstick on you.” James licked his swollen, tingling lips. A moment later, Rose cradled his jaw in her palm and rubbed a damp napkin across his mouth. It came away stained red. Her own mouth was smudged with lipstick, and he helped her clear it off, too. “You are too enticing,” he concluded when they were lipstick free. “How am I supposed to restrain myself from kissing you?” “Maybe you shouldn't,” Rose drawled, and she leaned up to plant a hard kiss to his mouth again. Of course, the Kiss Cam found them once again, to the delight of the stadium, and to their fellow students, who didn’t let them live it down for the rest of the night. The last few innings passed without much excitement and ended with the Phillies winning seven to four over the Miami Marlins. They were exhausted as they traipsed to the charter bus that would take them back to the school. It was just after eleven o’clock when the bus returned to campus, and almost midnight by the time James pulled up in front of Rose’s flat. For once, he was staying overnight with her, per her request. The climb up to her fifth-floor flat was exhausting, and James wanted to curl up with Rose and go directly to sleep. “What time is it?” Rose muttered to herself when she unlocked her front door and stepped into her dark flat. She flipped on the lights and glanced in the direction of the stove; 11:42 glowed green from the digital display. “Ooof, gotta wee. Stay here!” She sprinted down the hall and slammed the bathroom door behind her. James was left laughing and shaking his head at her. He set his keys and wallet down on the kitchen table, but as he was about to toe off his shoes, an open, hand-written letter caught his eye. He didn’t mean to snoop, but his eyes and brain worked independently of each other and before he knew it, he’d glanced at the end of the letter, where the name Jimmy was printed in a messy scribble. His ears rang hollowly and his head swam. Jimmy. Jimmy? As in, Jimmy Stone? Jimmy Stone, Rose’s wanker of an ex-boyfriend? A righteous anger welled up in James; what the hell did Jimmy want with Rose? And how dare he contact her out of the blue after all this time. Before he was entirely aware of his actions, James plucked up the piece of paper, eyes frantically scanning across the words. Rosie, I’ve started this letter half a dozen times now, and I’m no closer to knowing how to say exactly what I want to say. It seems surreal that we’ve been talking again. I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea. It’s like I’ve found a piece of myself I didn’t know was lost. I’m not complete without you, and I hate the person I am without you. This past month has been the happiest of my life because I’ve been able to talk to you again. I am thankful that you let me apologize, because there is nothing more I’ve wanted to do for the last six months. Getting sober has made me realize a lot of things, but it especially showed me that I missed you and that I want you. The worst mistake I ever made was how I treated you, and I will spend the rest of my life hating myself for it. I will spend the rest of my life (our life?) making it up to you. I love you, Rosie. I love you so fucking much. You make me feel like I can do anything, and I love how I feel when I’m with you. We were the best thing to ever happen to me, and I’m such an idiot for destroying the perfect, wonderful life we had made together. I think I was scared. I was scared of not being able to support the both of us with my music, and I was scared about how much I needed you. You were a comfort to me, something I knew would always be there for me, something reliable, and it was scary for me to need anything that much. But I’m not scared anymore, and I know I can make it work this time. As you said, we were young, stupid kids and we made young, stupid mistakes. Now we can start fresh and build something even better than before. I know you’re at school in America (which I always knew you could do! I always knew you were smart enough for school, despite what you said about yourself). I’m happy you’re enjoying your time in America. I want you to enjoy your time there, while you can. I’ll be here waiting for you when you come home. I’ll wait forever for you because you’re worth it. You’re so worth it, Rosie. I would wait a thousand years for you if I needed to. I hope I don’t have to though. This time we can work harder together to make us work. I know you might not be ready to trust me yet, but I promise I will show you how serious I am. How committed I am. I will do whatever it takes to make this work between us, because I hate the thought of my life without you in it. In the meantime, texting you will hold me over. I cherish every day, every moment that I can talk to you. All my love, Jimmy James could barely think, could barely breathe. Something was squeezing his chest tighter and tighter until he thought he might suffocate as he read and reread the words of the letter. The love letter. The love letter that Rose’s ex-boyfriend wrote to her after a month—a month?!—of them having texted back and forth. Acid churned in the pit of his stomach, eating away at his guts and making him certain he was about to vomit all over Rose’s floor. And worst of all, his chest was collapsing in on itself and his heart was breaking into more pieces than he thought possible. An entire month, Rose had been texting her ex-boyfriend—the ex-boyfriend she had supposedly written off and hadn’t deigned to contact in three and a half years. And she hadn’t told him. A month, and she hadn’t said a single word. His pulse thundered in his ringing ears so loudly that he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until the sheet of paper was abruptly yanked out of his hands. oOoOo It was a relief to empty her bladder after holding it for most of the trip home. She had been tempted to use the toilets at the stadium, but the lines had been impossibly long. With that need dealt with, Rose washed her hands and then her face. She felt greasy and grimy, and would have preferred to get a shower, but she only had a couple minutes before midnight, and she could finally tell James it was her birthday. She deserved a damn medal for not spilling the beans early—though there had been a few close calls—but she couldn’t deny it had been fun to play with James all month. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought to simply look at her identification card, where her birthday was plainly printed in bold. But that was her James, wasn’t it? The smartest idiot in the room. She rushed to brush her teeth and comb out her hair before she left the bathroom and skipped to her kitchen/dining/living room. James stood by the kitchen table, a sheet of paper in his hands and a stricken expression on his pale face. Oh. Oh, no… Her stomach dropped. He was reading the disgusting letter that had arrived from Jimmy out of the blue yesterday afternoon. She didn’t know whether she was more embarrassed, considering the content of the letter James was reading, or angry that he had snooped through her things and read her mail. The former won, but fueled the latter. Rushing up to him, Rose yanked the letter harshly out of his fingers. He flinched as though she had struck him. “What are you doing?” she snapped, folding up the paper and setting it on the kitchen table beneath one of her class notebooks. “What am I doing? What are you doing? You’ve been chatting with your ex-boyfriend for an entire month?!”  There was an awful combination of accusation and hurt in his voice that simultaneously grated against her nerves and broke her heart. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to find out about Jimmy like this. He wasn’t supposed to read that letter until she had explained the past couple weeks to him. No, not merely a couple weeks. A month. It had been an entire month (and a little extra) since Jimmy first contacted her, and Rose hadn’t said a single word about it to James. Shit. “I was going to tell you,” she said weakly. “I just…” “Just hid it from me by accident, did you?” he said, condescension dripping from his every word. Rose clenched her fists and her jaw before coldly replying, “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to talk to anybody, or that I needed to tell you about every person I talk to. Sorry, d’you want to know about the bloke I chatted to while I was waiting for you in the library today? Wanna know about the girl I met at work ‘cos she’d recently broken up with her girlfriend and needed to talk to someone? Wanna know about…” She knew she was being ridiculous but she couldn’t make herself stop until James interrupted her. “Of course you don’t need to tell me about everyone you talk to.” Two pink stains spread across his cheeks. “But I would have hoped you would have trusted me enough to tell me when your ex-boyfriend, the ex-boyfriend you claimed to despise, contacts you!” Rose crossed her arms in front of herself, gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt so tightly that her fingertips began to ache. “This isn’t about trust, James.” “No? Well, it sure seems like it is. Because you don’t actually trust me, do you? Not nearly to the extent that I trust you. I’ve shared everything with you, Rose. Everything! I told you about the worst night of my life. How it still haunts me and gives me nightmares like I’m a child again rather than a grown man. But you…” He flapped his arms wildly before letting them fall limply to his sides, clearly out of words. But he didn’t need any more words; the ones he’d hurled at her hit their mark, cracking her heart wide open. He didn’t think she trusted him? Suddenly wanting him to hurt as much as she did, she met his eye and said, “I didn’t make you share any of that with me. You did that on your own. You opening up to me doesn’t mean I’m obligated to do the same to you.” It happened almost in slow motion, the way his face crumpled. The way his chin wobbled and his lips parted slightly with a soft, nearly inaudible, “Oh.” The way a crinkle formed between his brows, and beneath them, his eyes grew shiny with moisture.  Shit. Shit shit shit! “James, I…” I’m sorry… I didn’t mean that…  His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, then his face smoothed into a mask of a person she didn’t recognize. Even before they became friends, when he was the random cute bloke sitting in front of her in their chemistry class, he exuded more warmth than he did right now. “How silly of me to expect some level of reciprocity in this relationship,” he said coolly. “I didn’t mean that, James,” she muttered, wringing her hands in front of herself. “Really. I didn’t. I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t want you to find out like this. I wanted to tell you the whole thing. I was going to tell you all about it, I swear.” He barked out a laugh, and it was one of the worst noises she’d ever heard. “Oh, yeah? When were you gonna drop that one? When we’re old and gray in rocking chairs in a nursing home? ‘Darling, remember when we were first dating? Remember that horrible ex-boyfriend I had? He texted me—ha! Remember when texting was all the rage?’ Exactly when were you planning to tell me?” Any sympathy she had for him had evaporated and her rage returned with a vengeance.  “Obviously if you’re acting like this, I was right to not tell you! Why are you being so unreasonable?” “Unreasonable? Unreasonable?! My girlfriend has been texting the bloke she used to be in love with, and I’m being unreasonable?” “Yes, you are! So what if I was texting him? What does it matter who I text on my own bloody phone?” “You’re missing the entire bloody point!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I’m not angry that you’re texting him…” “Clearly,” she grumbled, grinding her teeth together. “…I’m angry that you felt the need to keep it a secret,” he continued as though she hadn’t interrupted. “And I’m upset because why did you keep it a secret? And what on earth could you two have been talking about if he sent you this… this…” James flapped his hands uselessly to the table and the notebook under which Jimmy’s letter sat. “...this love letter?! For all I bloody know, you could be wanting to get back together with him and…” “No, don’t you dare,” Rose hissed, voice trembling. Tears of fury and heartbreak burned behind her eyes, blurring her vision. “Don’t you fucking dare accuse me of that. After everything I told you about Jimmy—and don’t tell me I haven’t told you anything. Just because you seem to have selective memory doesn't mean I never told you about his drinking and partying, and how he stopped paying his half of the bills, and how he manipulated me to always feel badly about myself. After everything I told you, how could you even think I would want to go back to him?” A flash of guilt appeared in James’s eyes. He blinked and lowered his gaze, staying silent. “Even if he hadn’t treated me like shit, how could you take away everything you and I have done together? Everything we’ve built together? How could you think I would leave us behind for someone I fell out of love with years ago?” She sniffled as her tears finally fell, streaking down her cheeks in hot, wet rivulets of grief and misery. “Do you think that little of me? That I would willingly go back to a relationship like that when what we have is so wonderful? Do you think so little of us?” James scrubbed his fingers through his hair, making a tousled mess of the limp and somewhat greasy strands; they were in dire need of a wash. “No. No, of course I don’t…” “You just said so,” she argued, impatiently wiping her face dry. “You just said…” “I didn’t really mean it. But you have to understand… relationships are so new to me. You’re the longest relationship I’ve ever been in, and we’ve only been dating for four months. Christ, teenagers in school manage to have longer relationships than this. How pathetic am I for being so illiterate when it comes to love and romance? I barely know what I’m doing half the time, and God knows if I’ve been mucking this all up but you’re too nice to tell me…” Rose’s head was spinning as her heart fought to beat its way out of her chest. She’d heard this before… she’d heard this all far too many times. I didn’t mean it; I just drank too much… You’re remembering wrong, I didn’t say it like that… You’re being ridiculous. Calm down and maybe we can talk like normal people… I was so drunk I don’t remember doing that… I’m the worst piece of shit, Rosie, and I’m sorry, please forgive me…  She shook her head as though she could physically shake Jimmy’s voice out of her ears. Instead, she tried to focus on James’s words rather than map them on top of Jimmy’s. “This is me telling you now that you are mucking this up…” But James continued on as though she hadn’t spoken. And with how dry her mouth had become, she wasn’t sure if her words had been audible. “...And you could be wanting to be in a relationship with someone who’s got a bloody clue as to what they’re doing. Why wouldn’t you prefer to be in a relationship with someone else…?” “Because I love you, you stupid fucking arsehole!” Rose yelled, which caught his attention. He met her eyes and blinked slowly, as though confused. As though she were revealing a secret he’d never been privy to. “Yes, I love you, but you knew this! At least, I thought you did. I love you so much but you are breaking my heart, James. Haven’t you believed me these last four months?” His mouth worked wordlessly for a few long and agonizing seconds. “I… yeah.” His tone suggested otherwise, though, and she nearly began crying with frustration. All this time… all these months… Had none of it been real? Had he been pretending this whole time? “Thanks for that vote of confidence.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes until bright lights burst behind her closed lids. “Thanks a lot, James.” “I just…” He groaned, sounding as miserable as she felt. Good. “I’m so bloody new at this! I’m making it all up as I go and I’m worried I haven’t been doing a good job. I get nervous that one day you’re going to wake up and realize how rubbish I am at this. That you’ll get sick of holding my hand through all of this as I learn. I’m terrified you’re going to decide you’re done wasting your time with me, because you’re wonderful, and you deserve the best and I…” “Stop!” Rose cried, a sob stealing the air from her lungs. “I don’t want to hear this. You have just… broken everything we’ve been building, James.” She hiccupped on another sob and impatiently sucked in a lungful of air. “We were supposed to be partners… I wanted us to be partners… I thought we were partners. We were supposed to be equals in this relationship. I don’t want you to put me up on a bloody pedestal, or for you to talk down about yourself or make excuses for yourself. I don’t want there to be this… this inequality between us for the rest of our lives. But if that’s always how it’s gonna be… if that’s how you’re always going to see us, as you being somehow lesser than me…” The force of her tears made her entire body shake. It felt like someone had blown a hole through her chest; she couldn’t breathe. “…then I don’t think we can make this work.” The tears that had been threatening in James’s eyes fell down his pale cheeks. “What? Rose…?” She buried her face in her hands, willing herself to calm down. But how could she be calm when it felt like the world was spinning too fast? James had been her tether, her anchor, keeping her grounded to the surface. But he’d let go, or maybe she had, and now she was crashing alone through the void. Lost. Adrift. “You… are you breaking up with me?” His voice was so hoarse that she could hardly hear it. Though that might have been because her pulse was thudding in her ears instead. Was she breaking up with him? “I don’t… no… yes? I don’t know. I don’t want to. God, I don’t want to.” She swallowed the thick lump in her throat. “I love you more than I’ve loved anyone. And right now, that really bloody scares me. I fought so hard, put up with so much, to make things with Jimmy work when I should have called it quits long before it all ended. And I didn’t love him nearly as much as I love you. I’m terrified about what I’ll let happen… what I’ll excuse… I can’t do that again, James. I won’t do that again.” He reached out for her, but she couldn’t let him touch her. She couldn’t feel his fingers on any part of her body. Not right now.  She raised her hands in front of herself and retreated a pace, nearly tripping over her shoes from where she’d kicked them off at the door. The door. With trembling fingers, Rose undid the deadbolt. “I- I want you to leave now.” “No, wait,” he pleaded, raw urgency in his voice. But he didn’t come any closer to her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean anything… I didn’t mean… I didn’t… Please…”  She’d never heard James, her eloquent, loquacious James, struggle this much for words. His eyes grew wild the longer he went without managing a sentence. “Please,” he repeated, frantic. “Please, Rose. Don’t do this.” She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. It was late, and she was so bloody exhausted. She didn’t want to be having this conversation anymore, but she knew it was far from over. “I need a break,” she said wearily. “I’m tired, James. I’m so tired.” “We can’t leave it like this,” he rasped through a stifled sob. “Please.” Rose met his gaze. Everything was written on his face, his grief and terror and heartbreak. He looked impossibly young. “We’re taking a break for the night,” she repeated. She paused for a beat, then, scrambling for some sort of comic relief, quipped, “Not Ross and Rachel’s version of a break, mind. A time out, more like.” James either didn’t process the joke or didn’t find it funny, because he was still staring at her with that stricken expression that made her want to wrap him in her arms and apologize for everything that had been said that night. But she couldn’t make herself move. “I love you, Rose,” he whispered. “I know.” That’s why this is so damn painful. “I love you too.” Maybe too much. Rose had always thought of their love as a fire. A soft, cozy fire, and together they basked in its light and warmth. But maybe they’d gotten too comfortable, gotten too confident, gotten too close; now they were burning, and oh, God, did it hurt. “Goodnight James,” she murmured, opening the door for him. He numbly walked towards it, completely forgetting about his phone, keys, and wallet on her table until she went and picked them up. His hands were cold and sweating as she handed him his things. “Drive safe,” she said. “Text me when you make it home.” He made a wordless noise she thought was assent, then he was gone, walking silently down the many flights of steps they’d cheerfully bounded up mere moments earlier. God, how long had it even been? It felt like an entire lifetime had passed. Rose glanced at the clock. 11:58. Sixteen minutes. Sixteen horrible, heartbreaking minutes was all it had taken for Rose’s world to come crashing down around her feet. She went to her window and peered down at the dark street, waiting. Half a minute later, James stepped out from beneath the front porch of her building and ambled slowly to his car. He moved as though through treacle, as though he were tugging an invisible weight behind himself. She continued watching him, but James simply sat there in his car in the dark. The clock switched over to 12:00, ringing in April twenty-seventh. She’d planned to kiss him at midnight, as though it were New Year’s Eve, and tell him that he could finally wish her a Happy Birthday. All of a sudden, her game of keeping her birthday a secret wasn’t fun anymore, and twenty-two didn’t look as optimistic as it had been. The distant purr of an engine drew her attention to the street below. James had started his car and was pulling away from the curb, taking off down the empty street. Rose fully gave in to the sorrow she had been fighting back for the past quarter of an hour. Sinking down onto her couch, she bent double over her knees and sobbed, grieving for all that had shattered that night, and for the unanswerable question of whether broken things could be ever mended.

After another successful mission, Ino made the suggestion to get everyone together and have a few drinks. Naturally, you being who you are, offered up your place as the gathering point, allowing everyone to drink and relax. Neji couldn’t help but feel irritated, he had wanted a break from everyone else and to spend time with just you. However, he didn’t say anything, not wanting to ruin the mood. Instead, he bit his tongue and decided it would be alright should he just stick to your side the entire evening. He made a point of watching you, keeping an eye on how much you drank, taking responsibility as the only one, aside from Shino, who wasn’t drinking. But then he got distracted by Lee who thought, even after all the bad experiences, it was a good idea to down some sake. It took Naruto, Shikamaru and Neji just to get Lee outside so he didn’t destroy any of the furniture. The others finally offered to take him home and by the time Neji got back, almost an hour had passed.  Walking back into your home, he found most people scattered in pairs around the place, leaning on walls, sitting on couches, drinks in hand. Then he spotted you on the couch, drinking, alarming quickly, a full cup of alcohol. This set off sirens in Neji’s mind, noting your change in pace. He leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the room near Choji, who was eating snacks and made small talk on his approach. The Hyuga wasn’t listening though, occasionally nodding his eyes fixed in your direction, watching as you chatted to an intoxicated Kiba.  There he watched; your smile, radiant and heartwarming. The way you tilted your head and rested it against your palm when you were listening intently. The way your eyes sparkled when you were laughing. It brought a small smile to his face. There he stood against the cool wall, watching and waiting for the party to wind down and the night to end.  It wasn’t long before he noticed the change in you. Your expression suddenly changed, like the flick of a switch, from your usual happy disposition to a spaced out look. It was the look you got when something was on your mind, something emotional. It was also what sometimes happened when you drank; he had made a note of this. He watched as Kiba got up, swaying side to side, clutching the couch for balance before stumbling off to the kitchen.  Neji didn’t approach you right away. Instead, he waited to watch and to see your reactions. You sat there staring down at your cup, tracing the brim with your finger. Even from where Neji stood he could see the glazed over look in your eyes. You sat like that for a few minutes, before releasing a heavy sigh and leaning back, so your head sank into the groove of the couch. He needed to make sure you were alright. ‘Hey,’ he said softly, joining you on the couch. You lifted your head up at the realisation he was there and gave a forced smile. ‘Feeling alright?’ He asked eyes looking into yours. You nodded, stretching out your arms gesturing that you wanted a hug. Neji didn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around you, bringing your face to his chest. He heard you sigh before burying your face there, against the cloth of his shirt, arms gripping his back tightly.  You were clinging to him now, which concerned him more. ‘Talk to me?’ He asked, stroking a hand gently up your back. ‘Please.’ You shook your head against his chest, squeezing him even tighter. Not the best sign. ‘Is there something wrong?’ This time you nodded. ‘Something specific?’ Another head shake. ‘Do you want to lie down?’ You gave another nod. ‘Alright, come on let’s go.’  He stood with you still clinging to him. ‘Do you want me to carry you?’ He asked, and you pulled away, eyes watering and nodded again. With that Neji picked you up bridal style, letting your head fall against his chest. Seeing you upset broke his heart, he hated seeing you in such a way. There were times he suggested that you shouldn’t drink, but every time you seemed to convince him that you would be alright. And sometimes you were, but tonight the emotions just took over along with the alcohol.  He opened the door carefully, making sure he didn’t bump you on the frame on the way inside. Keeping you in his arms, he pulled back the blankets on your bed before placing you down on the mattress. ‘Lie down,’ he said, helping you get underneath the sheet before bringing the blanket over you. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead then stood upright turning away toward the door.  ‘Wait,’ you called arm stretched. ‘Please don’t go.’ He turned back with a sympathetic smile.  ‘Don’t worry I will come back. I just have to take care of something.’  ‘Do you promise?’ You asked. ‘I promise.’ Neji opened the door and left, hoping you would be alright on alone for a few minutes.  He then proceeded to walk room to room and kick everyone out, declaring that the gathering was over and to go home. Ino argued, slurring something about ruining their buzz before Sakura convinced her to calm down. On the way through the kitchen, he almost tripped over a half-naked and passed out Kiba, whom he moved onto the couch, tossing his discarded jacket on top of him.  Once he was satisfied everyone was safe or gone, he went back into the kitchen to get a glass of water before returning to your room. He entered quietly, moving like an assassin through the room. He sat on the edge of the bed near where you were, gently caressing your cheek in his hand.  ‘Sit up and drink this.’ he ordered. You complied, taking the glass from his hand and taking several large gulps and setting it on the bedside table.  ‘Feeling alright now?’ Neji asked, and you nodded. ‘Good, now move over.’ He climbed into bed, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. Letting out a heavy sigh, he kissed your nose gently.  ‘Better?’ He asked.  ‘Better,’ you agreed, snuggling your body against his. ‘Please don’t go.’ ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ He whispered, feeling you finally relax.

The next day Lexa feels good enough to go to the morning meetings with the ambassadors. This gives Anya time to go see to the Royal Guard training set for that morning and Clarke and Abby to visit Raven and Monty in the shop. When the Griffin women arrive at the garage they find only Raven working. “I thought Monty was in town?” Clarke asks. Raven rolls her eyes. “Newly mated couple. Connect the dots.” Clarke chuckles, remembering her first few mated weeks. “Ah. Right. So how is Rover 2 coming along?” she asks casually as she and her mother walk over to it. Raven smiles and stops what she’s working on. “Almost done. Just need a couple more things we’re pretty sure are out in the junkyard and she’s finished. Just need the snow to melt a bit to help us look.” “Cool,” Clarke says as she opens a door. “Not as big in the back as Rover 1.” “Well, Rover 1 was a Land Rover. This is actually an old Jeep. They weren’t as long or as wide. But it will do. Our real hope is to find a military style transport somewhere. We have feelers out in all the clans to let us know what they’ve got rotting somewhere. Might be worth it to bring it here if we can get it moving.” “Damn. I bet the Mountain Men had something like you want. Makes me wonder if it is in the bunker where Pike’s men took the de-armed missiles,” Abby notes. “Too bad none of Pike’s inner circle lived to tell us where that is.” “Come Spring we need to find it. We get what we can from it and we blow it up; destroy those missiles for good,” Clarke declares. She shuts the door. “So, anyway, Rover 2 is looking good. It’s just missing 2 things inside that I can see. What do you think, Mom?” “I agree. Definitely needs two more things in there.” Raven comes over and opens the door again. She studies the inside. “What the heck does it need? Dice hanging from the rearview mirror, Princess?” she asks with irritation in her voice. Clarke grins at the perturbed voice of her friend. “No. I was thinking more like…baby seats for my pups.” Raven nods. “Oh, sure. I can see…” her voice trails off. She slowly turns around, staring at Clarke’s smiling face. “Don’t. Fucking. Tell me.” Clarke giggles. “I’m having twins.” Raven lets out a whoop of joy, grabs Clarke and spins her around. “YES! I knew those well-hung alphas would get you knocked up! I knew it! Oh, I’m going to have 3 pups to spoil rotten now!” Clarke laughs. “Yep, you are. Just remember the rule: no welding before 10!” “Got it,” Raven promises with a smile. “Damn, I am so happy for you! Boys or girls or both?” “Well, we need a little more time before we know that but I promise you will know soon after we do.” “Rock on!” Raven gushes. She pulls Clarke close again. “DAMN I am so happy for you!” “What’s to be happy about?” Harper asks as she and her mate walk in. “Oh, just that the two toughest alphas in the coalition knocked up our little princess here,” Raven explains as Clarke and Abby roll their eyes. Harper squeals in delight and races over to hug Clarke. “I am SO happy for you! I can’t believe you’re going to have a pup!” Clarke grins. “Two, actually. I’m having twins.” Harper squeals again and hugs her closer. “YES! Oh, I can’t wait! I am so happy for you and your mates!” Monty walks over and gives Clarke a hug and kiss on the cheek. “I’m happy, too, Clarke. Anything you need to make things easier for you let me and Raven know. We’ll get it done.” “Thanks, Monty. We will definitely let you know.” A low growl catches their ears. They turn and see Lexa standing in the doorway glaring at Monty hugging her mate. He quickly steps away and bares his neck to the stronger alpha. “Apologies, Heda. I meant her and your pups no harm,” he states. Clarke steps over to Lexa and lays a hand on her chest. “Easy, honey. You know Monty won’t hurt me.” Lexa sighs and shakes her head. “Sha, I know that. I’ve…never felt…that anger before.” Abby steps towards them. “Your mate is pregnant, you’ve been sick, and, to be honest, you know your omega is not like most omega’s who will be happy staying home to nest. Your reaction is not unusual all that considered.” Lexa nods. “Sha. I will watch that. Monty, my apologies. I know my omega is safe with you.” He smiles. “Apology accepted, Heda. Uh, but you might want to warn Bellamy about your state of protection for Clarke. He’s bound to hug her harder than I did when he hears she’s with pups.” Clarke giggles. “Very true.” She looks at Harper. “Now that we’ve got the announcement out of the way, think you can do your beauty magic on me?” “Hodnes, you need no beauty magic. You are perfect,” Lexa states. All the others Awwww at the sweet sentiment, making Heda blush. Clarke kisses her cheek. “Actually, I just need her to trim up my hair from where that guy sliced off a hunk of it. I am thinking a shoulder-length bob to even it out?” Harper smiles and nods. “That I can do with no problem. Let me get my things.” Clarke nods and turns to her mate. “So, did you toss all the ambassadors out the window or what?” “No but they got so much done with you and Anya standing in for me there was little to do today before their 2-week break.” She looks at Abby. “Kane said to let you know he’ll be in his room packing should you wish to help.” Abby blushes as she can see her daughter knows what he is really offering. “Um, yes, I think I will go help him…pack.” She takes her leave as the other three Skaikru laugh. Lexa looks at them in confusion. “What is so funny?” she asks. Clarke grins and kisses her cheek. “I’ll tell you when you get older, baby. Promise.” The others laugh again, making Lexa frown at her mate. Harper gets back just then and Clarke sits down to get her hair evened up. When that is done, she and her mate take their leave to go watch the Royal Guard finish their training exercise. Well…they go there after a brief stop at the bakers truck so the pregnant omega can stock up on all the things she and her pups are craving! After lunch, Clarke lays down for a nap at the insistence of her alphas. She has to admit, she’s still feeling the effects of her time with the jerks in the Dead Zone. She is extremely happy that Lexa takes the time to lay down with her to get over any lingering effects of her cold. But while Clarke falls asleep immediately, Lexa lies awake with her lover in her arms. Her right hand rubs little circles over the omega’s stomach. “Your smile could blind the sun, ai houman,” Anya says from the table where she is working. Lexa looks up at her. “As could yours, niron.” She looks back down again. “I’d swear I can feel them below my hands, but that’s not possible, is it?” “Not while they still look like little lima beans in there,” Anya jokes. She walks over and sits down beside her loves, stroking Clarke’s hair. “I know I pick on you about my pup being better than yours, but the truth is I hope in some way they are the perfect mix of both of us plus Klark. But if that can’t happen I hope they take after you. Your strength, your wisdom, the best of you.” Lexa smiles. “And I could say the same of you, niron. No matter what, I know our pups will be loved and taught right from wrong, how to protect those we love and those with no one to protect them. They will learn all of that from birth.” “Sha.” They both rub Clarke’s stomach a moment. “What if…neither is a Nightblood?” “Then they will learn to serve and protect the Heda, no matter who wears the mark. We’ll know from birth how to raise them, Anya. They will not be a problem like Titus warned us. We will make sure of it,” Lexa states confidently. Anya smiles and leans over to kiss her mate. “Sha, we will.” “You two are so sweet. Can you shut the hell up now so I can sleep?” Clarke grumbles. Both alphas chuckle and lean in to kiss their omega’s cheek. “Sorry, ai prisa. I’ll go back to work now.” “And I shall rest, hodnes. Ai don swega yu.” Clarke smiles and snuggles in closer. She starts to purr in happiness. Lexa closes her eyes to sleep, also purring. Over at the table a teardrop hits one of the maps Anya is using. She quickly wipes it away. General’s don’t cry…not even tears of happiness. A few days later, Clarke and Anya watch as Lexa prepares to ride to the Woods Clan for the fight between Argus and Indra. “Are you sure you don’t want me with you, ai houman?” Anya asks once more. “I’m sure,” Lexa confirms. “I could- -” Clarke starts. “No you can’t,” both alphas state immediately. Clarke rolls her eyes. “You will NOT keep me prisoner in this tower my entire pregnancy,” she warns. “Not all of it, ai prisa. Just most of it,” Anya teases. Clarke slaps her arm lightly. Lexa grins at the two. “We’ll not keep you prisoner, Klark. But snow is in the air once more. And there could be a bit of unruly behavior after the fight,” Lexa explains. “You mean the winners are going to be drinking well into the night,” Clarke corrects with a grin. Lexa chuckles. “Sha, they will.” She steps closer and rubs Clarke’s stomach. “My pups need their rest.” Clarke leans in and kisses her. “I love when you talk like that.” “And I love you. All three of you. I’ll be home as soon as I can be.” “I know.” Lexa turns to Anya. “Keep our family safe and warm.” “You know I will, Lexa. Tell Indra congratulations for me.” Lexa chuckles. “You’re that sure she will win?” “Argus is a good warrior when he’s not being a jerk. But Indra is always a good warrior. She’ll mop the woods with him,” she states, then glances at Clarke to make sure she used the saying right. Clarke chuckles. “Uh, close. I mean, do you mop the woods?” Anya frowns. “No. But there are no floors there so I improvised.” “No need to improvise with an old saying like that. It’s implying if there was a floor she’d mop it with him.” “Oh.” Anya considers that a moment, then shakes her head. “Why am I trying?” “Because it’s adorable,” Clarke says, kissing her cheek. Lexa just smiles. Damn she loves these two women! Running feet are suddenly heard. “Nomtu! You not gone yet?” Lexa steps out from behind her mates. “Right here, strik Raider,” she replies, lifting up her daughter. “Can you keep an eye on Mama and Nomon while I’m gone?” “Sha, Nomtu. Swega!” Lexa kisses her and gives her a strong hug. “Ai hod yu in, Kora.” “Ai hod yu in, Nomtu,” she echoes, kissing her mother’s cheek. Lexa hands Kora to Anya and pulls Clarke close. “If you need me, radio. I’ll be back here as fast as Zeus can get me here.” Clarke smiles. “Don’t you dare press Snuffles for me. Get back here in a safe amount of time.” Lexa rolls her eyes. “Snuffles…if I didn’t love you…” Clarke just giggles, not at all afraid of the empty threat. “Anyway, take care of yourself and our pups. I’ll see you in a few days.” “I love you, Lexa. I’m so happy to be your wife and so proud to bear your pups,” Clarke whispers emotionally. Lexa pulls her close and gives her a passionate kiss. “Ai hod yu in.” “Ai hod yu in,” Clarke echoes. Clarke then takes Kora. “Come on, little one. Let’s get you breakfast so you can get to school.” “I’ll be back in a few,” Anya promises as she walks out with Lexa. In the elevator, Lexa looks at Anya. “Anytime, day or night.” “Sha, Lexa, I will call if we need you. I promise.” Lexa just nods. They walk down to where the Royal Guard has mustered for the trip to the Trikru. Anya gets a bit serious. “Do you think he will accept a posting to Broad Leaf?” Lexa shrugs. “He will accept it or be banished. What other choice would he have?” “To challenge another general. Perhaps even me,” Anya points out. Lexa turns, her eyes hard. “If he cannot beat Indra, he could not hope to beat you. I will not even recognize such a foolish challenge. Best you not either, General.” Anya stiffens. “But if he makes the challenge and others hear it?” “He won’t. I will lay out the terms before the fight. If he does not wish to end up down south he either accepts Indra as his general or he beats her. He will have no other option. Nor will Indra on the off chance she loses tomorrow,” she states with finality. Anya bows her head. “Sha, Heda. Well thought out.” “Now, that said, if you or Klark need me- -” “We will call. I promise. Safe journey, Lexa. I love you.” Lexa nods. “May we meet again, my love,” she responds, having become of fan of the Skaikru farewell. They share a quick hug then Lexa mounts up. Moments later, Anya watches as her mate leads Guards and Warriors out of Polis. “I love you, Lexa,” she whispers. Almost as if she heard, Lexa turns and gives Anya a nod and a smile. Anya smiles back and waves. Lexa turns once more, her mind now on the mission ahead. Anya returns to the tower. Time to walk her daughter to class. That night Clarke settles into the big bed, scooting over a bit into Lexa’s spot to give Anya a bit more room. In her mind she’s thinking they need to purchase a bigger bed before the twins get to the age they want to sleep with them. That will surely mean Kora in the bed, too. Yep, this bed will not handle that many people. Anya walks out of the bathroom and lifts the covers. “Move over, Klark.” Clarke grins in confusion. “Oh, of course, Lexa. I thought you were out of town.” Anya glares at her, then pokes a well-known tickle spot. Clarke squeals and automatically hops over towards Anya’s regular side of the bed. Anya just smirks and climbs in. “So why are you sleeping in Lexa’s spot?” “We were concerned assassins could infiltrate via the balcony. This way you and our pups are safe,” Anya explains. Clarke starts to laugh. “Assassins? Seriously?” Anya grunts. “Well, maybe my concern was assassins. Lexa might have said you could get hit with a cold breeze if another window pane comes loose. Same difference.” Clarke just shakes her head and snuggles into the alpha. “Gonna miss you spooning into me.” She moves her head a bit. “You have this weird…muscle or something on your shoulder. Is it an old injury?” “Nope, that’s my omega handle,” Anya explains smugly. Clarke lifts an eyebrow. “You’re what?” she asks dryly. “My omega handle. That’s where you grip me when you ride my cock,” Anya smugly explains. “Wanna give it a try?” Clarke starts to laugh again. “You. Are. Incorrigible.” Anya rolls to her side and pulls Clarke close. “No, ai prisa, I am in love. Truly, madly, deeply in love with you.” She kisses her omega. Clarke moans and melts into the kiss. Anya slips her legs between Clarke’s and the younger woman feels the depths of the other woman’s arousal against her pajama pants. “Oh, Anya,” Clarke mumbles against plump lips. “Klark,” Anya purrs. “Mama? Nomon?” The two jump apart. Anya recovers first and turns to look at her daughter. “Kora? Why are you up?” “Rocky misses Nomtu,” she says, holding up her stuffed racoon. Clarke giggles and shakes her head. Anya feels her cock shrink. Loving time is over. Family time is on. She lifts up Kora and settles her between the two mates. “So, is this better for Rocky?” Kora smiles and brings him up to her ear. After a moment, she nods. “He said it’s a lot better. Thanks, Nomon.” Anya gives her a kiss on the head and one for Rocky, too. Clarke puts her arm over her daughter and smiles at her wife. “Goodnight, my love.” “Goodnight, ai prisa.” Though they didn’t get to have sex that night, there was no denying the bed was full of love. Lexa dismounts and walks towards Indra. The general gives a nod of her head. “Welcome home, Heda.” Lexa gives a small smile. “Thank you, Indra. I’m surprised you’re not working out.” “I worked out as I do every day. I don’t need extra time,” she replies confidently. “Good to hear. And Argus?” “Working his ass off right now,” Jamie interjects. Lexa almost chuckles. “I see. When he is done I wish to see him and you, Indra. We’re going to discuss what tomorrow’s battle means.” “Sha, Heda. I will make sure he is informed.” “Good. I’m going to get settled then radio Polis that I have arrived.” Indra nods as Lexa walks away. Indra goes herself to inform Argus of the meeting. Jamie watches her go, then makes her way to Lexa’s tent. She steps towards the flap, trying to figure out what to say. She stands staring at the ground, the right words not coming to her. “Enter, Jamie kom Skaikru,” Lexa calls out. Jamie sighs and walks in. “Good evening, Heda. I…can I ask a few questions about tomorrow?” Lexa continues to settle her things but slides a glance at the woman. “I’m surprised you have not asked Indra.” “Oh, I have. I just don’t like what I’m hearing.” She steps closer. “Heda, why does it have to be to the death? It doesn’t make sense to lose a good general for something this…this DUMB!” Lexa turns and studies the guard. This is more than just one woman’s love for another. This is true confusion over a very old system. “Tell me, Jamie, how do your people advance to power?” “Time on the job. Tests. In some cases, votes and influence from others. People are promoted on merit, not by killing their competition,” Jamie explains. “Wise ways. Our way has long been battles to the death. But I am doing my best to change our ways. You are right: it makes no sense to lose two good generals. Rest easy this night. Tomorrow’s battle will not be to the death. The loser will be reporting to the Broad Leaf clan to help rebuild and lead their army.” “Broad Leaf?” “Sha. One of the first thing A.L.I.E. had her minions do was kill off the general and most of his officers. The only ones that survived were either injured or took the chip and now have no desire to lead.” Jamie sits down hard. “Broad Leaf…” Lexa studies her a moment. “That is far from Arkadia. What would you do if I sent your mate south?” Jamie looks up. “She’s…not my mate…” “Yet,” Lexa adds with a grin. Jamie thinks a moment, then shrugs. “I honestly don’t know. We lost a lot of guards to the City of Light shit. I mean, I spend most days here as the official guard for the Trikru but…but…” “But you still feel like you can help Arkadia if needed,” Lexa concludes. “Yes. I love Indra with all I have in me but…I don’t know if this is the time for me to leave Arkadia permanently.” Lexa slowly nods. “Belomi has the same issue in his love for Echo. He plans to move there after things are more stable in your home. I am sure Indra would wait for you. She loves you, too.” Jamie smiles. “I hope she’d wait for me.” “She would. Of course, all this is moot if she wins tomorrow. So believe in her skills and believe in her love for you. Once I tell her what is in store for the loser I have a feeling she’ll be just as upset about moving far from you as you are about the possibility.” Jamie grins. “I hope so. Thank you for setting my mind a little more at ease, Heda.” Lexa steps towards her. “Jamie, please understand: death is not a requirement to end the challenge. But it could happen by accident. Prepare your heart for that.” Jamie swallows hard. “I…will try, Heda. Thank you.” Lexa nods as Jamie takes her leave. Lexa leaves the tent to go let Polis know she has arrived. She smiles as she thinks about Clarke and the pups she now carries. She can’t help but wonder if she will ever stop feeling so giddy about being a Nomtu three times over. Lexa is sitting on her throne as Indra and Argus enter. At the Heda’s request, Jamie stands to her left. Both warriors seem surprised by the guard’s presence but say nothing. “Tomorrow at 10 a.m. you two will meet in combat. It will not be combat until the death,” Lexa declares. Indra and Argus exchange a look. This is not what they expected. They had expected the Heda to try to talk them out of the fight so she didn’t lose a general. “The loser of the fight will be reporting to the Broad Leaf Clan. They lost their army officers to the City of Light. You will be tasked with rebuilding that army, both mentally and physically. For whatever reason, A.L.I.E.’s cruelty seems to have hit that clan harder than others. She set them into a Civil War. It was bloody and it was devastating. It will not be easy but I know both of you are up for that challenge.” “So how do we know when to stop fighting?” Argus asks. “When you knock your opponent out or your opponent taps out. I know death can sometimes occur by accident. I ask you both to be careful. Despite this challenge, I have to believe you both know how valuable you both are to the Coalition. Fight to win; do not fight to kill. Any questions?” Neither one speaks. Lexa nods. “Good. Get a good dinner followed by a good night’s sleep, Generals. And may the best warrior win.” Both bow to the Heda then take their leave. Jamie sighs as she watches them go. “Is it cheating if I knock Indra out now and she can’t fight that giant?” Lexa gives her a smirk. “Yes. And she would never forgive you.” “At least she would be alive to resent me.” Lexa pats her on the shoulder. “Trust her, Jamie. She’ll…” she thinks a moment. “She’ll mop the floor with him.” Jamie grins, then chuckles. “Well said, Heda.” “I got the saying right?” “Yes, ma’am.” “I can’t wait to tell Klark!” Jamie laughs and leaves to go find her lover and make sure Indra knows she has the full support of the guard from the sky. Lexa walks out of her tent to go get a good meal. She has only taken a few steps when a mocking voice reaches her ear. “Well, if isn’t the  mighty  Heda Lexa, alpha of all alphas, queen of the known world, and one of the worst dressers I’ve ever seen. How did you land two hot women looking like that?” Heda turns towards the voice. “Well…at least I don’t smell like dead fish all the time,” she taunts back. The two women glare at each other then slowly grin. They step to each other and exchange a firm hug. “What brings you to the Woods Clan, Luna?” Luna lifts an eyebrow. “After what happened to Anya I decided to come along on this delivery. We have medicine to drop off here and Arkadia. I…I can’t help but think my brother would understand if I had to raise my sword to protect others from death. Uh, right?” she asks nervously. Lexa pats her shoulder. “I think he would disappointed if you didn’t do so, old friend. Come. Dine with me.” “Sounds good.” They start to walk to the meal tent. “So, is Anya okay now?” “Fully recovered. She and Klark are…are…holding down the fort,” Lexa states, proud she remembered the term. Luna starts to chuckle. “Ah, so you have also been trying to learn long forgotten slang. The Raven has been teaching you well.” Lexa grins. “Sha, she has. Sometimes she tries to trick us. Klark usually helps us figure out what we’re supposed to say but I hadn’t had a chance to try that term yet. To be honest, it drives us crazy most of the time trying to figure out when to use the slang. I am quite glad to be away from Polis for a few days to avoid her impromptu lessons.” Luna laughs. “Ah, I see. So if I beg you to quote The Raven?” Lexa lifts up her hand and shushes her friend. “Nevermore.” And sadly Clarke is not there to hear that exchange and go into a fit of giggles that the two Nightbloods would never, ever understand. * Ai don swega ya - - I swear to you.* Sha, Nomtu. Swega! - - Yes, Mom2. I promise! (A/N: she’s learning so well!)* “Quote(h) the Raven. Nevermore” from Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”   I just COULDN'T resist! Lol

The second Tommy walks in through the front door, dropping his suitcase to the ground, Wilbur can tell this isn’t going to be the most pleasant start to the teen’s visit. Tommy is visibly moody, for one, if the scrunched up nose and frown on his face is any indication. Tommy’s tucking his phone into his pocket as he sits down on the couch, hunching over and staring at the ground. His fingers seem drawn to the drawstrings on his hoodie, idly tugging each one back and forth. Wilbur can’t make heads or tails of this already, but he doesn’t want to say anything that will set Tommy off. He knows why Tommy is upset, but the entire situation still baffles him. Moving closer, Wilbur tries a smile and a wave without saying anything, but Tommy is staring down at the floor, resting his elbows on his knees. There’s an anxious energy emitting from him, and Wilbur wonders if it’s because Tommy’s here. Then he remembers the texts he’d been sent. Pulling his phone out to read the messages more or less confirms that hunch. Wilbur laughs disbelievingly as he presses his hand to the top of Tommy’s head. “I don’t understand why you’re so offended on my behalf,” he says. His tone is full of humor, with the barest tinge of concern. Tommy is too quiet for his liking; he prefers when Tommy is loud, or even conversational. Wilbur knows it’s normal for Tommy to pull back when he’s stressed about life in general, but Tommy usually does that in his own home, not in anyone else’s. Wilbur can obviously gather that Tommy is upset about the latest ‘controversy’ involving the older man. Wilbur had cracked a throw-away joke that many people had taken out of context and were pissed at him for it. Wilbur doesn’t like the aggressive nature that consists of twitter either, but he’s not above swallowing his pride and apologizing to those who need to hear an ‘I’m sorry’. What he doesn’t get is why Tommy is mad at the fans. His phone had blown up with texts from Tommy while the younger was in transit, with Tommy ranting about twitter and how toxic it’s become. Of course, Tommy’s first words before walking inside the flat had been ‘you didn’t deserve this shit’. “I’m mad because you don’t deserve this,” Tommy grumbles in response. He lets out a quiet huff and goes back to fiddling with the strings on his hoodie. His cheeks and ears are light pink, which is also strange. Tommy isn’t normally the kind to blush easily, but Wilbur hopes he knows Tommy well enough by now to read him, and he’s guessing it’s a lot more than twitter that’s got Tommy in a bad mood. “Tommy, I promise I’m fine. You don’t need to be so upset for me.” He withdraws his hand and sits down next to the teenager. “What else is eating at you? How long did you want to stay?” “Packed enough for a few nights,” Tommy mumbles in response. The harsh nature of his tone is missing now. He doesn’t sound tired, but Wilbur is guessing the stress had induced some level of insomnia, because boy he sure looks tired. “Is that okay?” Tommy peeks up, chewing on his bottom lip. He seems hesitant, more so than normal. If he wants to stay over, Wilbur’s never been one to turn him down, always saying that his home is open to the teen, no matter what he says on stream. “Yeah?” Wilbur furrows his brow and bites his own lip. Tommy’s going back to fiddling with his drawstrings, going quiet once more. The awkwardness between them is strange. There’s more going on than the initial anger, and Wilbur has no idea how to broach the subject. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?” “I dunno.” Tommy gives him a quick shrug without looking up. “I invited myself over without asking, I guess. Sorry.” Wilbur stares. Tommy is not making any sense to him right now. The anger exuding from Tommy is completely gone, leaving Tommy hunched over and avoiding eye contact. He even looks like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. “Do you... uh.” Wilbur clears his throat when his voice cracks. “Do you want help moving your things into the spare room?” “Can I share with you?” Tommy’s hands fall into his lap as he finally looks up. His eyes almost seem wet, but one blink later, and Tommy’s eyes return to normal. Droopy, but he’s not crying. This itself is unusual. Tommy doesn’t make a habit of asking to share space with anyone. The last time they’d met up, Tommy had insisted he needed his privacy, and had demanded that Wilbur not disturb him until Tommy was ready for it. This time, it’s the complete opposite. If he didn’t know any better, Wilbur would say Tommy is acting more like a child than a nearly seventeen year old teenager. “Uh, I guess?” Wilbur scratches his neck, wishing this wasn’t so awkward. “Do you want help unpacking or…?” “I dunno.” Tommy’s back to fiddling with his drawstrings. There’s something meaningful about this act that Wilbur isn’t grasping. The concept is there on the tip of his tongue, but it’s escaping his thoughts every time he thinks he understands. Deciding Tommy isn’t going to be any help right now, Wilbur stands back up and grabs at the suitcase. A quick check to make sure this isn’t going to upset Tommy any further, Wilbur carries the suitcase down the hall and into his room. Throwing the suitcase down on the bed, Wilbur reaches down to unzip it. “Wil?” That’s Tommy’s voice from the doorway. Wilbur hadn’t expected Tommy to actually follow him. He lurches forward with a gasp, gripping at either side of the suitcase and waits for his heart to stop pounding. “Jesus, Toms, you scared me!” Laughing, Wilbur puts a hand to his chest and half-turns around to grin at Tommy. The smile fades instantly when he sees the way Tommy is still trying to shrink. Tommy’s pressed against the doorway, clutching at it as if something is trying to tug him away. In this moment, Wilbur could swear he’s staring at a five year old instead of a minor barely over a year from adulthood. Tommy’s eyes are wet again. “Wilby I don’t feel well,” Tommy mumbles. The way he talks is so unlike anything he’s ever said before. It’s in the lisp of his words, it’s in the nickname, and it’s in the tone; the high-pitched ‘I’m clingy’ tone. Wilbur’s even more confused than he was. There are many thoughts running through his mind, running through each other and not making any sense. Why did Tommy decide on a whim to come over if he feels sick? Is it stress-induced? Is he going to have to rush Tommy to the hospital- “Wilby…” Tommy’s bottom lip is trembling. Every thought is halted right there. There’s no thought left as he crosses the room and instinctively gathers Tommy in his arms, holding him close. “What’s wrong Tommy?” Wilbur presses a hand to Tommy’s shoulder, trying to make eye contact. The teen is once again avoiding it, but there are noticeable tears falling from his eyes. “Everything.” Tommy’s voice is distant, on top of everything else. “Tired of feeling this way.” “Feeling what way, Tommy?” Wilbur’s hand moves from Tommy’s shoulder to his back. He keeps his movements small and slow, hoping to bring some sort of comfort. It’s a little surprising when Tommy leans forward, resting his head against Wilbur’s shoulder, hiccuping quietly. “Bad.” Pursing his lips in confusion, Wilbur has a feeling he understands more about this mood than he initially did. It’s time to adjust his own tone to softer whispers and maintain the comforting atmosphere Tommy is clearly seeking. “You feel bad right now?” Wilbur asks. “Is it me, or is it everything piling up?” A wordless nod is felt against his shoulder, so he takes that as permission to continue. “It’s okay to feel bad,” Wilbur says. Standing feels awkward, so Wilbur carefully lowers himself to the ground, adjusting Tommy in his arms. The teen is practically boneless now, heavily leaning into Wilbur, but this time, he’s okay with it. “It’s okay to feel stressed and bad and all those other gross feelings,” he continues with hushed whispers. Tommy’s crying again, quiet little sobs punctuated with hiccups. “The bad feelings don’t last forever, and you’re okay here, you’re safe. I’m not in trouble, I promise. We don’t have to think about anything icky while you’re here. We’ll have lots of fun, alright?” Tommy’s first response is a sniff. He sounds like he needs to blow his nose, but Wilbur isn’t going to bring that up. His second response is a hesitant giggle. “I feel stupid,” Tommy mumbles. He’s still speaking with that same high-pitched lisp. “Not supposed to act like this, but you help me feel safe.” “You want to clarify what ‘this’ is?” Do you mean your current personality?” Wilbur has an idea, he’d heard about it in various corners of the internet. It doesn’t mean he knows the first thing about it, but he’s good at hiding his own panic when someone else needs comfort more, first. “You already know,” Tommy grunts. “Don’t play dumb right now.” “I’m new to this,” Wilbur retorts. He snorts and ruffles Tommy’s hair. “I have an idea, but I don’t remember what it’s called. I’m trying though.” “I’m little, okay?” Tommy sniffs again. “I feel all small and… and…” “Sad?” Wilbur guesses. “From what I do know it’s a coping mechanism. Some sort of headspace. Stress or trauma related, right?” Tommy nods wordlessly again, burrowing his face into Wilbur’s shoulder. He’s no longer crying, but Wilbur continues to rub his back. “Feel all small and bad and gross.” Tommy’s voice is muffled as he explains. He’s back to that same tone of voice that Wilbur is starting to find endearing. “Do you have anything in your suitcase that you can use for comfort?” Wilbur nods toward his bed. “Like stuffies, or blankets?” A single finger is held up, before the hand drops back down. That… doesn’t exactly answer Wilbur’s question, but he pats Tommy’s back and nudges him. “Why don’t you grab it for me? We can go lie down on the couch for awhile and watch your favorite movie.” He expects to hear Up as a movie suggestion. “Can we watch Moana?” Tommy does get up to plod toward the bed. Wilbur turns to watch him, lifting an eyebrow when Tommy pulls a zombie piglin plush out. “This is Michael Jr.” He clutches it defensively to his chest, glaring as if expecting Wilbur to laugh at him. “Michael Jr. can join us for Moana too.” Wilbur gets to his own feet and holds his arms out. It takes no more than a second for Tommy to rush back toward him, falling into his arms. Hugging him firmly, Wilbur rests his chin on Tommy’s head. “And Tommy?” “Mhm?” “If you ever need someone to care for you when you’re little, you can always call me.” “Really?” Tommy shifts in his arms, so Wilbur hoists him up, opting to carry him out of the room. It’s not like Tommy’s all that heavy anyway. “You’ll be my big brother when I’m little?” “I’m your big brother anyway.” Wilbur feels a warmth spreading through him. This is a different side of Tommy he’s never seen before, but he’s okay with it, honestly. Maybe Tommy’s anger wasn’t directly because of him, but that’s a conversation they can have later when Tommy feels better. “I’m sorry I got mad for you,” Tommy mumbles. His hand is creeping toward his mouth, so Wilbur tugs it down, giving it a squeeze. “I know you’re okay.” “Don’t suck your thumb, kiddo.” Wilbur settles them both down on the couch, before pulling up the movie in question. “And don’t be sorry. I love that you care about me.” Tommy doesn’t respond. He leans against Wilbur, resting against his chest and tucking the plush under his own chin. He seems content to finally have a way to relax without stress, so Wilbur wraps his arms around Tommy again. Honestly, Tommy is really cute like this. Hopefully he’ll get to see more of it in the future.

Sans grumbled as he wandered throughout the dreary, winding streets of New Home. Random piles of dust varying in different sizes passed his view. He was only in this wretched city to find a job. Hopefully that would finally get Papyrus to stop harping on his laziness. They’d gotten into another violent argument over it again; and this time, Papyrus wouldn’t let him go back to the house until he found a job. What did Papyrus know? It wasn’t as though Sans purposely acted lazy. He simply found it difficult to find a suitable job given his dismal stats. No Royal Guard was going to hire a monster with 1 HP. He was a joke, with monsters calling him “dead on arrival” in their kill or be killed world. He did have one skill that no one knew about - not even his own brother. Ever since he and Papyrus had escaped from the late Royal Scientist’s clutches, he’d somehow gained the ability to clearly see a monster’s LOVE. Not only that, his attacks also seemed to do way more damage than his poor stats implied. It mimicked a poison-type of effect that gradually reduced a monster’s HP over time until they dusted. Either way, Sans hoped King Asgore would hire him for whatever “special job” the boss monster had been advertising. However, when he reached the entrance to the castle, the Royal Guards immediately blocked his path. “State your reason for seeing the king, runt!” “imma hopin’ to work fer the king.” The two guards blinked and stared at each other, before turning back to him and laughing as though they’d just heard the funniest joke. “Sorry, punk, I’m afraid you aren’t qualified enough for the job.” Sans bared his razor-sharp teeth and snarled, “that ain’t fair! it said anyone can interview fer it!” Both guard members lifted their spear and pointed it at him. Sans checked their stats to find that both monster had a LOVE of 12. As they attacked with arrow bullets, Sans leapt to his right and retaliated with a row of sharp bones. Two hits reduced the guards’ HP down to the single digits. “Why you little shit! Die!” More bullets shimmered in the air around him. Before the guard's attacks landed, a glowing, crimson trident pierced through the guard’s chest. “Gah!” was all he uttered, and then he became dust. The dark, imposing figure of their King stood in the entranceway, his pitch-black armor seemed to absorb any light that hit it. He was triple the height and doubled the size of Sans. Asgore’s beady eyes glared at the remaining Royal Guard. A strange, imposing power eluded off of Asgore in waves that Sans became inexplicably drawn to. “Leave us be or you will suffer the same fate as the other.” The threat underlying Asgore’s tone didn’t leave any room for discussion, and the guard fled the scene. With now just the two of them, the boss monster turned his attention to him. Sans’s soul flutter and tighten in response. “What is your name?” Sans, never one for manners or proper etiquette, simply held out a bony hand and blurted, “sans.” He frowned. He’d never answered a question so readily and truthfully. Asgore stared at the offered hand, and then gazed directly at his face. “You are quite bold, I see. Are you not going to kneel before your king?” As if a great pressure settled on top of him, Sans immediately sank down onto one knee and bowed his head. “sorry.” The King’s mouth curled upwards into a snide smile and nodded. “Your language will need some work, but all in good time. Well, Sans the skeleton, you have now been appointed as my Judge.” As soon as those words left Asgore’s mouth, Sans’s mind blanked out, the sensation similar to filling his skull with balls of cotton. The next thing he knew, he was following after Asgore as the boss monster gave a tour of his palace. It all occurred in a blur. On the way out, he haphazardly mentioned his situation of Papyrus not letting him home until he found a job. “You are welcome to spend the night here. There are a few guest rooms available.” Asgore placed a paw on Sans’s shoulder; it nearly covered his entire right chest. Asgore’s touch lingered and trailed down his back, sending shivers down his spine. “Am I acting too forward?” Asgore asked. Sans knew something was off about this situation, and he should be resisting more, but his fight or flight instincts seemed to have been suppressed. In fact, Asgore’s increasingly suggestive strokes had reached his lower spine. Sans finally had the mind to break away from the giant goat-like monster. With a moment of clarity, he rudely declined the offer and took a shortcut back to Snowdin as soon as he was out of Asgore’s sight. Sans didn’t understand what came over him to allow Asgore to touch him like he’d done. When he got to his and his brother’s shared house, he’d expected Papyrus to welcome him with excitement and pride for obtaining such a prodigious job like becoming the King’s judge; instead, when he told his brother of the good news, Papyrus scowled at him with his arms crossed. “LIES WILL NOT GET YOU BACK HOME, WHELP!” His crimson eye lights narrowed into slits. “YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE SOMEONE OF YOUR CAPABILITIES WOULD BECOME KING ASGORE’S JUDGE? DON’T MAKE ME LAUGH!” Sans flinched back as if struck. “what the fuck, boss? ‘m tellin’ the truth! why would i lie ‘bout this?!” “ARGH! DON’T COME BACK UNTIL YOU FIND A REAL JOB!” And like that, Sans was left standing at his doorsteps. After the initial shock faded away, he ended up shortcutting back to New Home, and took up Asgore’s earlier offer. “s’fine if i stayed in a guest room,” he mumbled. Asgore led him to a room that appeared to have been the late Prince Asriel’s. He sank into the bed and fell asleep.   For the next two days, Sans remained at the palace and worked under Asgore, judging various monsters for their crimes. His ability to read souls made it hard for lies to sneak past him, decreasing the hours of time Asgore normally spent on evaluating citizen behavior. He found it unjust that certain monsters were executed even for the most minor offenses, though he never had the desire or need to go against the king. In between these judging sessions, Asgore caressed Sans with increasing boldness, to the point where the king’s grazes would reach his clothed pelvis or lower spine. And no matter how wrong and uncomfortable it was, Sans found it seemingly impossible to disobey Asgore. His mind felt like it was in constant fog, and the longer he stayed in the boss monster’s proximity, the denser the fog became. Then on the fourth day, Asgore insisted that he spend the night with him. And he’d agreed with barely a moment’s hesitation. As Sans lay on the enormous bed, his tiny frame not even taking up a third of it, soft fur grazed over his chest. “You will allow an old monster like me to indulge a bit, won’t you?” the King intoned, his dark eyes boring into Sans. “n—yes.” Asgore positively beamed, and sank his paw under Sans’s shirt and fondled his ribs. The goat monster’s hand nearly covered his entire ribcage. Sans quivered in equal amount of pleasure and disgust at Asgore’s inappropriate ministrations. Heat and magic rushed up into his face. It didn’t take long for his heavy pants to fill the room. A shameful whine escaped Sans’s maw when the touches stopped. He lifted his skull to see Asgore unbuckling his belt and removing his pants. His gigantic, hairy dick sprang free. Sans watched through lidded sockets as Asgore pumped his erection several times until beads of precum leaked from the top. He then placed a paw on the back of Sans’s head and pushed it towards his engorged penis. “Finish me off,” the King ordered. Why wasn’t he fighting back? He should… fight back! There was no way something this long and thick would fit in his mouth. The fog cleared briefly, and he gained enough of his mind to croak back, “n-no, s-stop!” But Asgore wasn’t taking that as an answer. He seized Sans’s lower jaw, wrenched it open, and shoved his massive length as much as it would go into Sans’s mouth; it didn’t even reach halfway. Sans gagged and squirmed to get it out. Tears beaded the corner of his sockets from the aching discomfort, and saliva dribbled down his chin. Bushy fur revoltingly tickled the insides of his jaws, and the smell of musk filled his senses. After Asgore’s attempting to thrust into his mouth had failed, the boss monster finally pulled out. Sans gasped and hiccuped from the relief. Loud rattling bounced off the walls of the room due to how much he was trembling. Asgore glowered down at him. “Perhaps my influences on you are not deep enough.” A terrible smirk flashed across his shaggy features. “That can be rectified.” Without warning, Asgore pinned Sans’s back down onto the bed, crouched over him, and plunged his dick into Sans’s left eye socket. Sans screamed. Asgore pulled out and thrusted back in, repeating the motion rhythmically. Spiderweb cracks grew along the rim of Sans’s left socket, and a jagged one appeared down the left side of Sans’s head, reaching down to his cheek. Tears poured down his face as he wailed at the constant agony. “If I bond with you, you will truly become my Judge.” Despite the haze of pain and growing numbness of everything that was happening, Sans still felt the tug at his soul. He sobbed and struggled as much as he could against the penis that repeated stabbed into the pool of magic located in the back of his head. He didn’t care if it tore half of his skull opened; as long as Asgore didn’t bond with him, he could still be salvaged. It proved to be futile. Sans’s soul shined yellow in the air while Asgore’s gleamed the red of Determination. As soon as they were brought together, all the fight fled out of him, and he sank limply into the bed like a puppet with its strings cut. His mind shattered.   Sans stood in the dust-covered corridor of the Judgment Hall. Gray mist hung in the air, obscuring the normally golden hallway. He had been ordered by his king to eliminate all the members of the coupe trying to overthrow Asgore’s unjust rule. The leader of the group was none other than former captain of the Royal Guards, Undyne. But the fish monster never came. Instead, a tall skeleton clothed in black armor and a tattered red scarf stepped into the hallway. “SANS?! YOU’RE ALIVE?!” the skeleton gasped in disbelief, and tears dotted the corners of his eyes. “I WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR HOW I’D ACTED! I MISSED YOU, BROTHER!” Brother…? The monster in front of him was so familiar, yet Sans could not connect the dots of who this was. Besides, it did not matter. He had an order to fulfill as the Judge to his King.

The visions aren’t any easier, even after all this time. They tend to blindside him—he’s become paranoid about every headache he has now. And he has a lot of headaches. For some reason though, he’s managed to hide them from Dean. When they’re at the Bunker, they’ve got the possibility of multiple hallways worth of space between them at any given moment, and if they’re at a motel, he can usually pass them off as a normal headache, or a bad nightmare, if they wake him up. Dean sometimes looks at him sideways, but Sam can’t bring himself to admit to anything. These visions are just a nasty last-minute reminder of the fact that he’s got evil in his veins, pumping through his entire being. He doesn’t want Dean to have another reason to— He doesn’t want Dean to— He doesn’t want to have to leave. So he doesn’t say anything as the weather cools and trees start to drop their leaves. And when Dean’s eyes flick a little too far to the side, he plays the trial card, feeling sick about doing it at all, but not seeing another option. And it’s just too easy to mutter under his breath, hangover sunglasses over his eyes despite the fact that he’d had a single beer the night before, “Been getting headaches ever since that hellhound I ganked.” Dean takes that in, and doesn’t reply in any way Sam can hear, but the next time he starts rubbing at his temples, a couple of ibuprofen are dropped into his hand, and Dean settles into his role of watching Sam for sickness again. So, when Sam screams himself awake in an awful motel in southern Illinois, Dean’s there in a heartbeat, giving Sam something to hold, something to reassert his control over reality with. “Easy Sam, you’re good. We’re good.” He slows his breathing purposefully until he doesn’t think he’s going to puke over the side of the bed and lets go of Dean’s shirt, slowly lowering himself to the bed again, trying to calm his heart. “You good?” “Yeah,” he manages to croak out, blinking at the abstract patterns of paint on the ceiling. That should’ve been the end of conversation, Dean should’ve nodded and flicked the light back off. That’s the pattern, the rhythm they know all too well. It gives them each a touch of privacy they need on occasion. But Dean stays sitting on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the bunched up comforter. “You, uh… You’ve been having a lot lately. Nightmares.” Sam’s stomach reminds him that it’d like to chuck its contents, please and thank you, but he swallows heavily and tries to crack a smile, turning a bit so that he’s balanced on his forearm, nearly on level with Dean. He’s been good about this, if he plays his cards right, Dean’ll never have to know. Any suspicions hidden in his brother’s mind will be tucked away, and they’ll move on. “What, now you want to talk about feelings?” Dean balks at that and wrinkles his nose in Sam’s direction, “No thanks Samantha, just checking in.” “Alright then,” Sam says, drawing out his vowels, raising his eyebrows at Dean, who finally deigns to look uncomfortable. Dean swats his leg and moves to turn off the lamp and crawl back into his own bed, and Sam settles back in, listening to Dean’s soft breathing. He digs his fingernails into his palm and tries not to shudder. He bides his time there, watching the neon sign outside the window that the curtains don’t really block out, and waits until Dean’s finished snoring and has settled into deep breathing and slinks out of bed, tiptoeing his way to his bag, pulling out his laptop. He pads over to the bathroom and pushes the door until it’s not quite settled into the jamb and sits on the toilet lid. He hunches over his laptop and gets to work.   Over a breakfast of coffee and muffins Dean wandered in with, he tells Dean about the hunt. “So, looks like this Wendigo is scheduled to reappear this year, and I’m not sure anyone will catch up with it before we get there, just because it’s been so long.” A story about old records matching up and a mostly made-up lecture on the Men of Letters history with Wendigos has Dean jumping at the bit to head up to Iowa and try to catch the thing before it starts eating the locals. Sam spends the drive trying to pretend he doesn’t want to go to sleep, and then dozes off anyway, waking up with a crick in his neck when Dean shakes him. They’re in a nearly deserted parking lot, a lone car reading ‘For Sale By Owner’ the Impala’s only company. “So,” Dean says, digging through the trunk while Sam tries to blink himself awake, “was thinking we hit up a couple of local hotspots and try to get a read on the hills and hiking paths.” Sam’s aching head disagrees with that, and every moment they waste is a risk. His visions aren’t exactly prompt, most of the time. “No need,” he says, leaning in to drag out a knife to strap to his belt, “Men of Letters had a map to possible locations. Easier to go off that.” He gestures to the map he has on his phone, marked only by himself. And sure, it’s a lie, but the thought of playacting tourists or visiting family when he’s got the path already mapped out in his brain sends shakes through his fingers. Dean looks at him weird, and then shakes his head, “Geek.” Sam rolls his eyes and tucks a flare gun under his belt too. Can’t hurt to have a couple back-up plans, even if his vision showed him a successful torching of the Wendigo. Dean’s got a tense look around his eyes, but he slams the trunk shut and grins at Sam. “Which way, MacGyver?” Sam nods his head and holds out his phone like a compass.   Everything goes smoothly until the moment the Wendigo doges Dean’s molotov cocktail and it lights a scrubby bush up instead of the monster. The Wendigo roars, an awful, primal sound that rattles something animal inside Sam, and he tucks himself down in response, instinct demanding it. Dean, apparently doesn’t have the same instincts, because a second later, the Wendigo’s sweeping arm catches him against his chest, just outside the circle of Anasazi symbols he’d stepped out of to get a good shot for his throw. Sam has to watch as Dean goes flying, the power behind the Wendigo’s swing terrifying. Time doesn’t slow or drag out—instead, Dean’s scream of pain does, just as awful and primal as the Wendigo’s. “Dean!” Sam yells, helplessly. Dean’s obviously still conscious, one arm dragging fingernails against the dirt, but he doesn’t respond. This close to the beast, the Anasazi symbols seem incredibly flimsy. The Wendigo roars again, this time at Sam, and then it does the most terrifying thing it’s done yet and turns toward Dean, who’s scream-whimpering every few seconds. The thing in Sam’s stomach explodes, and everything goes red for a second, and then he’s moving from out behind the boulder he’d been crouching behind and draws out the flare gun that he’s managed to keep a hold of. Behind him, the gasoline drips steadily out of the container he knocked over in his rush to duck, but he can’t focus on that. He aims, and gets ready to fire, and then something catches his arm, sending the flare gun flying back, and him to the ground, his shoulder bursting into flares of red-hot pain. The wendigo’s arm, fast and deadly, draws back from Sam, and it roars again. It echoes in Sam’s head as he kneels, shaking in the dirt, his good hand clutching his shoulder, and tears of hurt and frustration and terror blurring his vision. That doesn’t stop him from watching the Wendigo stalk toward his brother, taking its time now that the threat has been neutralized. For a second, Sam’s vision wavers, and branches of light spiral off in different directions. He sees Dean in his coffin, after the hellhounds. Dean, lying, shot, on the floor of the Mystery Spot. Dean, choking on his own blood. Dean, again and again. The explosion in his stomach goes nuclear, and the scene wavers in front of him. Dean. Wendigo. Arm. Dirty fingernails. Howling. The Wendigo’s arms, reaching out for Dean’s shuddering body. And then a million neurons fire in his brain at once and he lets go of his shoulder to hold out his hand. For a second, he thinks he catches Dean’s eyes, filled with pain and shock, and then something is hitting his palm, and he’s twisting, aiming, and firing. In the split second before it hits, he’s distantly grateful for his dad making them shoot with their non-dominant hand, all those years ago, and then there’s more screaming from the Wendigo, and it lights up, flaming. Sam loses track of of time for a second, and once he catches back onto the passing of it, he finds himself kneeling in the dirt again, one arm digging into the ground and holding him up, while the other lays limp and useless. He can’t feel his fingers on that hand. “Dean,” he whispers, voice cracking. He drags himself to his feet, stumbling, and tears he’s not sure of the origin of streaming out. Dean’s not moving anymore, and when Sam slumps next to him, a horrible future stretches out before him, short and horrifying. Then, he sees Dean’s chest move and feels his pulse under his shaking fingers, and he—he leans down to press his forehead to the dirt and sob out pleading and praise. His prayer has no direction, but there’s no doubt that’s what it is. He feels for Dean’s ribs—definitely some issues, and tries not to look at his leg. Calm head. Stay calm. Get to help. Make sure they’re still breathing. Check for bleeding. Pain arcs through him, and his vision whites out, and then he’s forcing himself to his feet and ripping off his flannel to use in tying up his useless arm. His phone blinks zero bars at him when he wiggles it out of his pocket, and he slides it back in, a pit reopening in the real estate in his gut. Every moment of dad’s training—long hours, sleepless nights, shot after shot, training upon more training—flashes behind his eyes, and he nearly blacks out again, but steadies himself out of sheer determination and stumbles toward the small copse of trees the Wendigo surprised them by. He gets to work, ripping up the rest of his shirt as best he can with one shoulder out of commission. Their bags are covered in gasoline now, but the rope and tarp are all he needs. He can’t let himself think about it. If he does, they’ll both be out of commission, and Dean needs a hospital. He can’t think about the last time Dean needed—he can’t, he has to focus, they just need to get to a cell signal. And then he stops and a realization socks him in the gut, and he can’t—he can’t—he can’t— He can’t— Moving Dean is a risk. Not moving him is one too. He’d be quicker on his own, he’d get in range faster, he’d get Dean help sooner. But he’d be leaving Dean. He’d be leaving Dean. He can’t— He freezes in indecision, clutching a gasoline-soaked rope to his chest, and shudders. For one wild moment, he wishes dad would come and find them. Or Bobby. Or Caleb. Pastor Jim. Ellen. Jo. Hell, he’d take Ash. He wishes that he could pray to Cas, that he’d show up and poke Dean’s forehead so they could move on. No one knows they’re out here. They didn’t stop anywhere in town. The car is sitting uselessly in a parking lot. Dean could be dying. He doesn’t want to make this decision. But logic thrums through him, and he forces himself up, stumbling to Dean’s side. He sticks his gasoline covered fingers under Dean’s nose, and tries to poke him awake. There’s no response. He gives himself thirty seconds to put his head in his hands and shake and pray, a fervency to his words that hasn’t been present in his pleading since he was ten and begging God to let his family live and come back safe. Then he reaches into Dean’s pocket and types a message out to his own number but doesn’t hit send. He grabs Dean’s limp hand and crosses it onto his chest, phone underneath. He watches Dean breath and bites down so his jaw can stop wobbling. Then he grabs the supplies and surrounds Dean with them, everything in his reach if he (ever) wakes up. The knife in his belt is held steadily in his hand, and he starts moving, looping the extra rope over his good shoulder. Every step away from Dean forces him to go faster, faster. His shoulder jostles, and he sees spots, but he keeps going until he’s jogging down the winding hiking path. Boots hit the ground with a vengeance. He’s running away again.   Later, the trip won’t register in Sam’s mind as anything but a blur, but the second he pulls out his phone and sees a feeble bar light up, everything snaps into focus, and his legs fall out from under him, and he nearly falls on his bad shoulder. His fingers can’t type the numbers fast enough. 911, what is your emergency?   He drags himself into a sitting position and waits. The lady on the other end of the line is trying to keep talking to him, but nothing is registering, his brain a useless mush. At one point, he thinks he must pass out, because the next thing he knows, someone is rolling him onto a stretcher and the sky is turning pink with the sunset. He sits himself up and thrashes out at the people around him. There’s loud voices, and his head is pounding, pounding, pounding. He clutches at it and feels a few tears seep out. They seem to make it worse, increase the pressure in his head. Someone is talking to him. “My brother,” he croaks out, trying to shield himself from the lights that bob in the darkness. “Sir, I need you to lie down—” He can’t shake his head unless he wants to see what the universe looks like in between its cracks, so he just huddles closer to himself and presses the only hand he can to his eye. “My brother,” he insists, the words tripping their way out, “you gotta find my brother.” “Sir, medical teams are on the way to him right now, we need to—“ She’s not listening. “My brother, Dean,” he snarls out, the world spiraling into pulses of light, “my brother.” The noise is too much, he changes his grip so that his hand is covering his ear. “My brother,” he says again, pleading this time. When the world fuzzes out again, he uses every last ounce of will he has to try and convey the importance of getting to Dean. “Dean.”   The hospital is a blur of people and things and questions. Everything about it is too much, but Dean had been there when he woke up on the way out of the ambulance, on another stretcher, unconscious, surrounded by people, but there. He has to keep it together. For Dean. “Is my brother okay?” He asks, again and again, as people try to talk to him. One nurse spares him a moment and tells him he’s in surgery, but they think he’s going to be just fine. Sam knows enough to not trust that, but lights keep flashing warnings behind his eyes, and every sound someone makes adds to the orchestra of five-year-olds playing a symphony in his brain, and he holds the hope close to his chest.   The doctor comes in and sits on one of those rolling chairs. She’s tired, that much is obvious, so Sam mentally praises her for her professionality as she begins her speech. “Hi, I’m Doctor Martini, how are you feeling?” He’s exhausted, drained, worried about getting arrested, and everything is sore. His head is throbbing, pulsing, and when he lays down a certain way, he feels like he’s going to throw up. He’s got feeling back in his arm—but not the good kind. "Fine. Do you know how my brother’s doing?” She smiles a tight-lipped smile at him and takes the question in stride, “He’s recovering well from the surgery. We’ve got him under close observation, but once he passes through the biggest threat of infection, you’ll probably be able to go and see him.” “How bad’s his leg?” Sam questions. He knows it has to be nasty. The doctor swallows a sigh, and consults the clipboard at the end of Sam’s bed, almost absentmindedly, “Your brother experienced some extreme high-impact trauma. His leg took the brunt of it, and the bone shattered. Luckily, it didn’t pierce the skin, but it’s going to be a long recovery.” “Comminuted fracture?” Sam questions. His dad once shattered a bone in his arm, and he’d hung off of every word the doctor said while he and Dean sat next to dad’s bed. Hospitals make him nervous, and at this point, he’s almost accepted the fact that they’ll be arrested the moment either of them heals up enough to function. The doctor raises her eyebrows and nods, “Yep. We had to place screws in your brother’s leg during the surgery. He’ll be in a cast for a long while.” “Do you know how long?” “With the type and severity of break he has? We’re looking at a couple months at least, and lots of physical therapy to follow.” Sam’s stomach drops out from under him. Monsters don’t stop for things like broken bones and physical therapy. He’s got to keep it together though. Too many eyes. Any investigation into their identities, and Dean’ll be healing his leg from a prison bed. As long as he can keep it together, they have a chance. His iffy arm and two working legs have the advantage between the two of them right now. He swallows and nods his head slowly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some questions for you.” Sam looks up from where he’d been vacantly staring at his hands where he’s got them twisted together so he can prod at his scrapes on the down-low. His right hand is buzzing with pain, but whatever they have him on makes it bearable. "Uh, yeah.” "The monster, did you get it?” Sam blinks at the doctor, darts his eyes to the door, and measures his chances for escape. It won’t happen, not without Dean, and not without knowing where he even is. The doctor sighs and leans forward to rest a hand on her knee. "Look, I’ve been in on the monster scene for a while. My sister...” she trails off, “Well, we don’t talk anymore, but I thought about calling her up once I heard about the local legends. She’s a hunter. Like you, I’m guessing.” Sam nods absently and tucks his thumb in so he can use his fingernail to scrape at his scars. "We, uh, yeah. We killed it. Shouldn’t—it shouldn’t be a threat anymore.” "Good,” the doctor says, straightening back up and the mask of professionality she’d entered with slides back over her features, “Well then, Mr. Rivers, how’s your head?” "Uh,” Sam says, trying to switch gears despite the throbbing behind his eyes, “fine?” Doctor Martini raises her eyebrows at him, “Sure about that? My notes here say that you were clutching your head and your eyes weren’t tracking when the EMTs finally got you in the ambulance. Not normal symptoms of shock, and you were lucid enough to talk to first responders. Do you have a history of head pain?” "I—uh, I get migraines sometimes,” Sam says, trying to figure out a way to explain his behavior that won’t get him sent to the psych ward. "Have these migraines ever been treated by a professional?” "Uh, no. Not really.” He tries to hide his bewilderment and swallow down the scratchiness in his throat, “They—uh, I had them on and off for a long time, and then they kind of...faded away. They just recently started again.” "And have you experienced any lifestyle changes recently?” "Uh,” Sam has to think. There’s just not really a way to tell a medical professional, no matter how involved in the hunting world, that he nearly died, had an angel stuffed in him, and has demon blood running in his veins that occasionally gives him visions of the future. He shrugs, trying to meet the doctor’s eyes. "Do you regularly consume caffeine?” "Uh, coffee, yeah,” Sam says, returning his eyes to his hands. He wishes Dean were in the room, even if he was just unconscious. His arm hurts. "Do you have a history with brain or head injuries?” "I’ve, uh, had a few concussions in my lifetime, yeah,” he admits, wondering if angelic healing can heal something like that. If so, maybe he doesn’t have any damage, but if not… Those types of injuries pile up. The lights are way too bright. The pain they’re causing his eyes is worse than whatever soreness is pulsing through his body. He thinks maybe they’re the reason why his vision is so blurry. "How often do you experience these migraines?” "Maybe once a week?” Sam offers, unsure. "Do you have a family history of migraines?” Another shrug is all the doctor gets, a little wobby, “Didn’t know my mom. My dad was an alcoholic, so no telling there.” He’s done his research—or rather, Jess had, back when the stress of finals tended to make him hurl and hole himself up in a dark room and- His head is throbbing. The doctor nods, flipping over a page on her clipboard, “Do you exercise regularly?” “I try.” “How do you usually treat these migraines?” "Uh, over-the-counter pain meds and a dark room, mostly.” "And you’ve never seen a doctor about these migraines?” Sam pulls at a scab on his hand, “No, uh. They don’t happen that often. Mostly crop up when I get stressed.” It’s not a complete lie. The origin...is a little different. "Do they usually make you pass out?” "Uh, they have before.” "Are you experiencing head pain right now?” Sam can see where she’s trying to lead him, and he’s tired, he’s ready to find Dean and get out of here, he doesn’t want to be in charge, he doesn’t want to have dragged his brother out of the woods and right into the hands of the police who’re no doubt going to be raining hellfire down on them as soon as they realize who they are— He shrugs with one shoulder, glancing somewhere beside the doctor’s right ear, “I guess.” The doctor’s volume is lowered when she next speaks, and Sam’s distantly grateful. He hadn’t realized how the sound was hurting him. “Well, I’m going to recommend a blood test and an MRI. If we can rule out certain causes, it’ll help in the treatment.” “I, uh, I don’t need…” Sam trails off. He’s so sick of lying. It’s all he ever does anymore. And if treatment involved medication, it’ll be good to be able to stock the med kits legally. It’s not like taking some kind of treatment to get pain meds is anything new for them. The doctor’s mask breaks one more time, and she just looks sad. “And how is your arm feeling?” “Better,” he offers. Something about that must tick the doctor off, because the expression on her face goes blank and she stands up. “How about I turn the lights off in here and let you get some rest? Hopefully your brother will be awake tomorrow, and you can see him. Then we can discuss treatment for both of you.” Sam nods and leans back in the bed as the doctor stands and walks toward the door. “If you need to call anyone, you can do that when you wake up as well,” she says before turning out the light and exiting, shutting the door behind her. Do they even have anyone to call? Anyone who’d really miss them? Jody, Sam remembers, she’ll be calling soon to check in on them. She does that now, trying to see if they’re still alive. He tries to lay down so that the throbbing isn’t worse than when he’s sitting up and is grateful for whatever meds they have him on. They’re dulling the pain, and he hasn’t slipped into an unwanted vision yet. Before he drifts off, he tries to shut down all his thoughts about what they’re going to do. Dean, with a busted leg, and no Cas around to help— No Cas— Cas— At least they have the car nearby. And the Bunker once they get out. (He tells himself it’s not an if.) They’ll figure it out from there. They have to.   A police officer takes Sam’s statement. A couple of people pass through and ask questions too. Sam fibs his way through, same easy story they’ve been using when they end up in the hospital since he was old enough to go on hunts. They were just out hunting in God’s country and something big and mean attacked, sorry officer, my memory’s a little wonky. He can see the people glance at his arm, and the gashes that hide under it, and decide on mountain lion or bear or whatever the local story is. He spends every second of it with his heart rattling, expecting to be arrested, to have the cuffs slapped on. The hospital makes him call Jody. She’s the only person that could feasibly count as their emergency contact, except maybe Garth (but it’s coming up on the full moon, so that’s a no go). And she insists on driving down to get them. Sam doesn’t have the energy or brainpower to argue with her. Everything is an effort, drugs screwing with him and uncertainty exhausting him. He and Dean have a moment, once they relocate Sam—who’s upgraded from complete bed rest to being able to be pushed around in a wheelchair—and it’s almost as jarring as the pain in Sam’s arm. Seeing Dean again, breathing and complaining and flirting with a nurse older than him by a couple decades hurts. It punches something out in Sam’s heart. Winchesters don’t cry for much, but the moment when their eyes meet is a close one. Sam can’t hug well with his arm, and Dean’s confined to the bed, and they have an audience, so all Sam can do is say, “You look like crap,” his voice cracking. “Hark who’s talking,” Dean says, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “Jody’s coming to get us,” Sam says, watching as the nurses leave, “she’s bringing Alex.” “Why?” Dean asks, brows furrowing as he presses the button to shift the bed closer to sitting. There’s a million reasons. They’re all Sam’s fault. The lights in Dean’s room are almost worse than the one in his, pounding away at his brain, even through the painkillers. He shrugs, then regrets it, “She wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Dean’s probably got more questions on his tongue, but a doctor walks in to talk with them, so he just settles back in and side-eyes Sam throughout the conversation.   Rest is the prescription for them both. Physical therapy, especially for Dean. A list of a dozen things Sam’s not supposed to do or eat to keep the migraines from becoming debilitating. Sam rips up one of the pamphlets with worrying fingers while they wait. Someone brings them their things. The world inside the hospital moves on, bustling. In a couple weeks, no one here will remember them well. They’ll just be stories—those guys who got attacked by the oogie-boogie out on the trail. Other people will never know. And it’s nice to think about that fact. Anonymity was Sam’s enemy for years, he hated having to duck down, be a nobody, and try not to be memorable. He developed an appreciation for it later, the blessing of hiding in a crowd, the enormity of the universe and how small he is in it. Dean’s next to him, eyes on the awful soap on tv. They keep breathing in at the same time. Dean’s inhales are laboured sometimes, one of his ribs cracked. The world seems like it went a little sideways somewhere along the way. Jody announces her presence with a laugh, startling them both out of their daydreaming. “How do you guys get yourselves in these situations?” She asks, walking into the room and leaning down to wrap an arm around Sam. He does his best to hug back with his good arm. “Jody,” Dean says, holding out his own arm for a hug, “you didn’t need to come all the way here, you’ve got a life.” “And you guys had another way to get out of here between Sam’s arm and your leg, right?” Right-side injuries for them both. They could’ve made do, they would’ve. But Jody’d spent seven minutes listing reasons why that was a bad idea, and he’d been so tired, and he’s so sick of them only having each other— Dean shrugs, “We would’ve made do.” Jody shakes her head at them, and then asks, “Where’s your car?” Dean argues with Jody over whether or not she should go get the car, and Sam finally looks up and spots Alex in the doorway, arms crossed tightly. He tries to smile at her, but he knows it doesn’t reach his eyes. She nods in acknowledgement anyway. “It’s a good thing it’s the weekend,” Jody says, finally wrangling the Impala keys out of Dean’s bag of things, “I can drive your car, and Alex can drive the truck.” Dean’s flabbergasted enough to freeze up, mouth opening and closing in shock. Sam laughs. And so the world spins on (without them).   They stay at Jody’s place for four days after Jody and Alex drive them back to Sioux Falls (Sam and Alex spent the trip in Jody’s truck in awkward mostly-silence occasionally broken when Sam figured out another question to ask about how she’s liking school). Dean spends it watching tv from the couch and ordering Sam to grab him food. Sam spends it puking up whatever he eats because whatever meds he’s taking don’t agree with his stomach (or at least, that’s what he tells Dean). The second day, Sam dozes off, pretzeled in Jody’s armchair as he sort-of-watches the superhero movie Dean made him put in the dvd player. He wakes up on the floor with Dean yell-laughing at him and his gashes threatening to re-open. His face hurts from where it hit the ground. “Lucky you didn’t break your nose,” Dean says, still cackling, “that was a nice head dive.” “Shut up,” Sam grumbles, reorienting himself and trying to pretend that the pressure in his chest isn’t choking him. Dean’s been worse than usual. Rude—not to Jody or Alex, but to Sam. It hasn’t been this bad for years. Sam worries. He gets up and walks out of the room, leaving Dean to his movie, and goes to lean over the toilet in the bathroom, breathing heavily. His stomach swirls, and his heart races, and he tries to think over the panic in his brain.   “Hey Jody,” Sam says, after dinner that night, while Dean lectures a bored Alex on the joys of classic rock, “I think I might have a hunt.” “You’d better not—” Jody starts, drawing herself up, readying for a fight as she hands Sam another plate to rinse. “I’m not going,” he interupts, voice low, eyes darting to glance at Dean, “But I thought maybe you would know someone who could take it? Looks like a black dog in Otero, New Mexico.” Jody hands him a couple of forks, and he runs them under the water. “I could make some calls,” she says. “Thanks,” Sam says, fervently.   On day four, Sam finally proves his mobility to the degree of Jody’s approval, and between the three of them, they manage to get Dean in the car, stretched out on the backseat—despite his disapproval of the idea. Jody hugs them both goodbye and finally releases the keys she’s been holding hostage (they didn’t tell her about the extra copies or the fact that both of them know how to hotwire a car). Sam slides into the driver’s seat and pointedly waves goodbye with his right arm. It’s been a few weeks since they were last in Lebanon. Sam tells himself it’ll be good to go back. Dean waits until they’re an hour into the drive to speak up, tone serious. “Look, I saw what happened,” he says, and Sam stops breathing, “with the flare gun.” Sam nearly chokes on his own spit and slows the car, heart rate doubling and that awful thing in his chest trying to constrict him. He signals over, refusing to look in the rearview so he doesn’t have to see Dean’s face. He sits for a second, breathing hard. Dean states, “Look—I’m not—I’m just gonna say what I know. I know that you shouldn’t have known all those details about that hunt. Maybe others we’ve been on too. I know you keep getting headaches.” Sam curls in on himself, resting his head against the top of the Impala’s worn steering wheel. Dean continues, “I know you passed out in the ambulance. I know that you told Jody about a hunt you sure as hell didn’t have any information on.” Dean had borrowed Sam’s laptop. Sam’d given it to him without a second thought. Chest. Constricting. Wheezing. “Sammy,” Dean says, one arm reaching over the seat to grasp at his shoulder, “There’s no way that flare gun spun itself back to you.” And it’s awful, drowning guilt that washes over Sam. “I just. Look, Sam. You should have told me,” Dean grinds out. And this is the worst possibility. It should’ve been Sam’s choice to say it. It would have been a million times easier if he’d just mentioned it to Dean, a calm hey, think my visions are back or so get this, I made a pencil float the other day instead of this. Quiet in the Impala, headlights passing them every so often, their places switched, because it’s Dean that’s supposed to be at the wheel, it’s Dean who is in charge, who’s the moral compass between them, because heaven (and hell and everywhere in between) knows Sam can’t make a decision without ending the world— “I know,” Sam mumbles, trying to focus on the hand Dean’s got on his shoulder. The hand that means maybe this isn’t the point where Dean tells him to get out, to never come back— “When?” Sam tries to swallow, can’t get past whatever’s happening in his throat, “After. After the trials. I think. After—after,” he takes a second, “After Gadreel, for sure.” The grip on his shoulder tightens a bit, “And. You’re not—it’s not-” Sam’s reality shifts to the side, and he sits up sharply, spinning in his seat to look Dean in the eye and knocking away his hand, sending pain spiking through his shoulder and down his arm. His voice is sharp, with no waiver, “I’m not drinking demon blood-” “No—Jesus, Sam, I know that—” Sam snorts, leveling his glare, “Like you weren’t gonna ask.” “I wasn’t!” Dean defends, reaching his hand out to grab Sam’s collar as best he can. He’s straining, over the seat with his leg stretched out on the bench, “I’m not an idiot.” Sam reaches up, grasps Dean’s wrist with his own shaking fingers. He feels like any second the lump in his chest is going to boil over, and then maybe he’d burn up from the inside out, not like that’d be a new experience, that’d been everyday in the Cage— "Sammy,” Dean says, and he’s got a rasp in his throat that Sam doesn’t hear often, “That’s not—I wasn’t askin’ that.” Sam can’t handle the gleam that shows in Dean’s eyes when another car goes past, and he curls his legs up on the seat so he can just press his face against the seat. Dean loosens his grip on his shirt and moves his hand up to hold on to the back of Sam’s head instead. “I would never,” Sam says with a shudder, “Never.” “I know, I know Sammy.” “Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Sam says, finally stopping his staring contest with the seat back so that a couple of tears spill out, “You’ve never—You don’t trust me to make decisions, and I understand that—” “I trust you!” Dean interjects, his hand tightening to grab onto some of Sam’s hair, “I trust you with my life.” “But you don’t trust me to make good decisions, and that makes sense!” Sam says, returning his eyes to Dean’s, letting Dean’s hand switch to press against his head near his ear, “I don’t trust me to make good decisions.” “Sam-” “Look,” he says, and it’s like everything from the past few months has tumbled to the tip of his tongue, “the trials, they were supposed to purify me. Obviously, that didn’t work—” “‘Cause there’s not a single evil bone in your entire body!” Dean says, now gripping the hair over his ear, “‘Cause you’re the best damn person I know.” “Dean-” “No. My turn. You know what I don’t trust you with? Your own life, Sam. You know why I zapped myself into that head’a yours to tell death to screw off? ‘Cause I had to watch you slap that hand over Crowley’s mouth knowin’ you were about to die, and you were okay with it.” “Don’t put that on me,” Sam says, blinking furiously, “I deserve a hell of a lot of stuff for the stuff I’ve done, but having that angel in me isn’t one of them.” He yells the last part, grabbing back onto Dean’s wrist with both hands. It’s the truth, it’s the only truth he can abide by, because he can’t handle another damn thing he’s responsible for. He can’t think about the yes he’d been tricked into and claim that as his fault. Not much is Dean’s, but he can’t not put this one on him. It’s been in his head for months, ever since that day he’d woken up in the bunker infirmary and watched from distant eyes in his own head as blue light evacuated his body. Dean had grinned widely, had squeezed Sam in a hug worthy of a resurrection, and Sam had puked up the breakfast he’d eaten when he’d thought his hands were his own. He doesn’t blame his brother for much. His anger toward his dad has died down. He never really blamed his mom for anything. He’s even forgiven Crowley. But he can’t get past this. He just can’t. “He saved your life,” Dean says, shifting as close as he can manage, and they really should have had this fight in a different space, “I’m not gonna apologize for saving the life you threw away Sammy, I’m not.” And that’s not what Sam wants absolution for. He wants it for every second Dean looked him in the face in those following months, after the dog thing, after Charlie, and lied to him. He wants it for every second he spent feeling comfortable in his body for the first time in his entire life, finally purified after those trials, finally clean. He wants it for every second it keeps him awake at night, how he’s never sure anymore if he’s in the clear, or if maybe someone decided it would be better to stick Sam Winchester away in his own mind. He wants it for all these months of silence on the subject, for Dean moving on like it was just another hunt. Sam lets go of Dean’s wrist and lets the anger he was building up curl back into its ball. He doesn’t know how to use it anymore. “Let’s just get back to the Bunker,” he says, looking out of the windshield at the barrenness ahead of them. “Sam-” Sam shoves a tape into the deck and turns up the volume until he thinks his ears might bleed from it and signals back into traffic.   The Bunker’s never felt so empty. Dean sticks to his room most of the time, laid up in bed except for when he ventures to the kitchen on his crutches, cursing every other step he takes. He takes his painkillers with whiskey, glaring at Sam everytime he makes to point out the danger of it. And wouldn’t that be the great irony, a Winchester dying from alcohol and pills. Sam holes himself up in the library and decides he’s finally going to get these books digitized. Most of the time, he passes out there, after taking his own painkillers and not gathering up the motivation to move to his bed. The days stretch together, and he’s never really sure when it’s night or morning, the Bunker lights as steady as always. He stops eating, mostly. Fasting, he tells himself, an acquittal of sorts. A type of penance. His stomach can’t handle it, most of the time, and that’s the real reason. It’s in knots constantly, and his head pounds and makes it worse. Dean cuts him off from the coffee at one point, threatening to toss all of it down the drain and bust up the coffee maker. Sam backs down, even though his head pounds worse for it. He’s been drinking coffee since he figured out how to work the crappy little machines in the motels they stayed at. Dean used to say it’d stunt his growth. Now, he just quotes the doctor on how to reduce Sam’s migraine pain, and a challenge lies behind Dean’s eyes, daring him to complain about how they’re not really migraines, to admit to everything again like he’s some two-bit daytime TV show playing off the same secret for three seasons. Dean wants a fight. He wants something real. Sam just can’t. He doesn’t have the energy to. Especially now without the caffeine to speed up his heart and blur things together. So they float around in nothingness.   He goes out to stock up on rock salt and bullets and comes back with a motorcycle and a box of books and cassette tapes. They have Navajo tacos for dinner, and Sam mentions it halfway through, once Dean’s relaxed enough and has a beer in him. “Stopped by a yard sale today.” “Yeah?” “Uh-huh. Uh, picked up a couple things.” Dean’s eyebrows tick up, “Like what?” Sam shrugs and moves a couple pieces of his scone around on his still nearly full plate. “Books. Some cassette tapes. A motorcycle.” Dean almost chokes on his next bite, and lets it fall, half chewed to the plate. “A motorcycle?” he asks, treading the line between disbelief and outrage. Sam digs the fingers of his hand into his thigh under the table. “Yeah. Some guy’s dad’s old one. Been sitting in a shed for a year, and the guy didn’t want to fix it up. Doesn’t run, but I figured…” He’d figured maybe it would get Dean out of his room. Maybe they could sit in the garage and Dean could gripe and yell at him about it and— “Where’d you get the money for something like that?” “Guy was selling it cheap. Used some of my reserve funds.” “Reserve funds?” Dean’s gone nearly monotone, and Sam’s too terrified to glance up at his expression. “For emergencies, you know. Nice to have some money tucked away.” And in the silence that follows that, he remembers that day when Dean dropped him off at the bus stop and pressed a few precious bills to his chest and Sam shook his head and passed them back, giving Dean a glance into the side pocket of his bag, bills curled up in neat rolls inside, and the look on Dean’s face, like Sam’d done something worse than want to leave. “Just thought it could be nice for local trips, you know. If we’re… If we’re sticking around here.” He finally risks a look up, and watches as a million indiscernible emotions flitter across Dean’s face. Dean settles on intrigue with a hint of hurt in the way he moves his jaw, and grunts. “I—I thought maybe you could give me some pointers. On how to fix it up?” Dean sighs and then stares off into nothing, fingers tapping something on the table while he thinks, “Well, check the carburetor first, even if that’s not the problem, you’ll want to clean it if it’s been lying around. Double check the battery, but if it’s neither of those, it’s probably the spark plug. If you get to that point and it’s still not working, it’s the motor.” Sam’s gut drops, but he tries to nod. He fumbles the tools in the garage all on his own, and Dean’s not even there to laugh at him for it.   Dean believes him when he tells him there’s a movie festival in Tennessee he wants to go to. But he doesn’t take the bait. And so maybe Sam’s reaching the end of his rope, maybe he’s scraping the barrel, but Dean doesn’t go out of the Bunker anymore. His leg is an issue, but they could manage. They could make it up the stairs and out to the car and they could drive. But Dean just waves him off and tells him to have fun. He winds up outside of Memphis where he fills up on gas and consults his phone for directions. A mom filling up her minivan looks at him with suspicion, so he nods vaguely in her direction and fits the helmet back over his head, straddling the bike. The kickback startles him still, despite everything, but he manages to get going just the same. Jack’s Bar and Grill is a shoddy place, the kind Sam grew up familiar with in strange ways. From the parking lot, when he and Dean would be left behind when dad met up with a contact. From when Dean would work a crappy job when they were in town long enough for it. From when he’d taken a job in Cali for the summer working sixty hour weeks plus his part-time job. From stumbling in, half dead with blood loss or sleep deprivation after a hunt and devouring burgers or steaks or whatever was half off that night and then getting drunk with Dean and stumbling back to their motel. From finding the Impala in the parking lot in the morning. He walks in, and figures that he matches the clinentel. Leather and helmet hair and whatever look in his eyes that makes a couple people avert their faces and hunch their shoulders. Crowley’s easy to recognize from the back. Sam thinks maybe he’s going bald. He wonders, not for the first time, who’s body Crowley’s got. He slides into a seat at the bar that’s been reupholstered a minimum of six times, steels himself, and calls out, “What’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?” Crowley turns around so sharply that Sam worries about the glasses he’s holding and the state of the floor beneath him. A glare is leveled his way, so he sends his best Dean-grin back. “Sam,” Crowley greets cordially, “What are you doing here?” Sam shrugs, “Well, I was just going to get a drink, but the service here is so bad I might want a customer card.” The look he gets is almost worthy of a King of Hell. A glass is slammed down in front of him, and alcohol poured. “Cheers,” he says, to the interest of some of the customers around him, who he thinks are either regulars or just that nosy, “when do you get off work?” Crowley grits his teeth, “Eleven.” The whiskey burns down his throat, and Sam feels the urge to cough in a way he hadn’t since he’d sipped his first vodka. “Well then, I’ll look forward to talking with you.” Sam stands up and searches out an empty booth and settles in. A nervous girl who can’t be more than twenty takes his order, and he pulls out his laptop. The sound of people serves to make things feel right at home, and he gets to work digitizing a few Men of Letters documents he’d scanned. The steak he gets is a little more well-done than he likes, but it’s edible, and the drinks he keeps ordering leave him buzzed enough to enjoy the fairly mediocre salad that accompanies his entree. Slowly, the tables and booths start to empty, leaving a few drunks at the bar. Crowley packs up a bag of trash and disappears into the kitchen. Sam packs up his stuff and heads out, bill long since paid for. He catches him in the alley out back, tossing the trash in the dumpster. “We need to talk,” Sam says, dodging a shard of glass from a shattered bottle that’s lying in many pieces on the pavement. Crowley turns around and huffs out his displeasure, then glances up and down the alley. “Heard about that angel leaving,” Crowley says, finally, leaning against the wall. Something squirms in Sam's stomach, and he hunches down a bit, ”Dean tell you?” “Who else?” Sam shrugs and fiddles with a loose string on the hem of his shirt, staring off into the night, “Would take a lot to get an angel down here through whatever Metatron and—and Cas did to heaven.” “Ah,” Crowley says, “so you've put together the pieces.” “Wasn't all that hard. Not many people I know could manage that.” Crowley spreads his hands, “Suppose not. I am quite full of information.” “So you know Azazel's full plan then.” It isn't a question. Fingers flex, and Crowley drops his hands down, bemused, “Azazel? That bastard's been dead for years.” “I know,” Sam intones dryly, “we killed him.” “Then…” Crowley trails off and studies Sam's face to the point where he starts to feel even more uncomfortable. Sam just blinks though, thinking of that poker game he played to save Dean and Bobby's asses. Some kind of understanding washes over Crowley's face, and Sam's not particularly pleased with that. “My demons always were glad that Sam Winchester's powers had disappeared-” Sam interrupts, “What do you know?” That growl in his voice is back. “Well,” Crowley drawls, a bit of a glint in his eyes, “not all that much.” Sam's thumb twitches, and his switchblade is in his hand and up against Crowley's throat in a blink. Crushing an arm against Crowley's chest and using his height to loom, Sam leans in close, staring into all too human eyes. “What. Do. You. Know.” He bites out, close enough to smell cigarettes on Crowley’s breath. Crowley’s adam’s apple bobs up and down, but he shows no other sign of nervousness. “Now, come on Sam, is this really necessary?” Sam tilts his head and narrows his eyes, “I don’t know, how about you decide that by telling me what I need to know?” Crowley huffs out a breath, and Sam wants to puke at the stench. He’d grown up in smoke-filled motels, knew the stench inside and out (it was a short-lived time in his life, a couple cigarettes behind the school, just because dad told them not to) but he hates the smell, always has. “Look,” Crowley drawls, “All I know is that Azazel’s plan was meant to build an army and open the way for Lilith. He got impatient, pushed people into killing each other, and he never really knew the big angelic picture.” “The picture?” Sam questions. “The plan! Heaven kept its secrets nice and locked up, none of us lowly demons knew about the seals and such until Lilith decided we needed to know. Even she didn’t know everything—she knew she needed you to kill her, but that was it.” Sam’s stomach squirms, and he finally backs up, letting his knife hand fall to his side. “That bitch had daddy Lucifer whispering in her ear, so of course she gave herself up on behalf of him,” Crowley spits out, scowling. “You worked for her,” Sam accuses, sickened. Crowley’s face turns even more red, “Like I had a real choice in the matter! Lilith was the winning team, of course I was going to go with her!” Sam knows a little too much about working with evil to save something less evil, so he backs down. “So, Azazel and Lilith weren’t connected.” Crowley shrugs, “To a certain extent, I’m sure. You keep forgetting that heaven and hell were working for millenia to make sure you two were born.” Sam just blinks tiredly, his lack of sleep finally catching up with him. “But,” Crowley says, watching Sam’s face with careful eyes, “Azazel didn’t try to form a backup army with you in it just because you were destined to be Lucifer’s vessel. He was taking talents, trying to increase his influence up here.” Sam frowns and fidgets with the blade of his knife while looking somewhere next to Crowley’s ear, “Taking talents?” “You’ve read the stories, what do witches and demons always want?” “A contract.” “The first born child. Or any child, for that matter.” Something nerve-wracking tries to click in Sam’s brain. Crowley continues, “And not just of anyone—the nobles, the talents. Get the right kid, bind them to you, and you’ve got powers up the wazoo.” Oh. “You mean—” Sam’s voice cracks, “psychics. Azazel really did want an army of—of psychics.” “Demon blood’s a funny thing. Can give the right person a power boost, that’s for sure, but the way Azazel used it? It was a binding agent. Left him with a lot of fun powers that a demon as useless as him never would’ve had on his own.” The alley wall presses up against Sam, and he thinks he might be shaking, but he’s too busy thinking. “So I’m—I’m—” “A natural-born psychic, most likely, yes,” Crowley says evenly, “Not exactly a surprise, what with that bloodline of yours. Campbell hunters always had a sense for danger in a little more quantity than the rest.” This. This is—he needs—he’s got to—he’s unclean - what does— The floor doesn’t seem so solid anymore, so he slides down the wall and lets the shards of glass come dangerously close to his ass. It doesn’t make sense. Except for how it does. Crowley crouches down in front of him after a minute of Sam’s heart racing and his brain winding up down useless dead ends. “Sam,” he says, something tight in his voice, “when was the last time you slept?” Sam snorts at the idea and doesn’t bother to answer. Crowley looks toward the heavens and mutters something Sam’s too distracted to pay attention to. “Alright Moose, you can have the couch tonight.” Sam’s head pops up, and he squints, “I don’t need a couch to sleep on, Crowley.” “Well, unless you’re planning on going out via crashing your car because you fell asleep at the wheel, I suggest you come with me.” His heart is pounding along with his head, and maybe he’s a little drunk, and Crowley used to be one of their worst enemies, and now he’s holding out a hand, waiting for Sam to take it. He does.   When he gets back, after sneaking out of Crowley’s one-star apartment to his motorcycle and taking off, the Bunker is quiet. He finds Dean in his room, beer cans littered everywhere and a bottle of scotch on the nightstand, a lot lower than when Sam last saw it. Something burns inside him at the sight of Dean passed out in the wreckage and he turns him over to rescue position and stalks out, some distant goal egging him on. He grabs the wine bottles from the cabinet that they never look in, the bottles of whiskey in the cupboard, and the brandy in the pantry. Dean’s room provides another bottle of whiskey and a half-empty can of beer. He turns out the light this time when he leaves. He thinks about taking the beer bottles in the fridge too, but something stops him. The gun range isn’t a very far walk.   “What the hell?” Dean questions, walking with one crutch as he stumbles into the gun range a couple hours later and finds Sam on the ground, grinning. Sam watches the comprehension fall onto Dean’s face and smiles harder. “What the hell,” Dean repeats, taking in the shards of glass littering the ground and the liquids splattered everywhere. “Screw you, that’s why,” Sam says, draining the last of the whiskey he’d kept out of the target range. “Sam, what’s wrong with you?” Dean asks, aghast. “What isn’t?” He shoots back, laughing. There’s fury building on Dean’s face, and Sam couldn’t care less. Screw Dean. Screw Crowley. Screw Azazel and Lilith and Lucifer and screw 'em all. Dean stares at the carnage for a moment longer and then turns and leaves. Sam laughs to himself for a long time.   He startles himself awake with a scream, chokes on it, and throws the covers off of himself, twisting to sit so he can put his head in his hands. Light, missing time, My name is Gadreel, imagining faces beneath angelic hands, burning. Rhythmic stomps come down the hallway, and he turns on the lamp just in time for Dean to open the door, distinctly not bleary-eyed. He hasn’t been sleeping well either, knowing what they know and not doing anything about it. Dean belatedly knocks, a quick one-two. “Hey,” Dean says, leaning against the doorway, “you good?” He’s not. He never is, hasn’t been for a long time ever since—ever—with— “Fine,” he grinds out, pushing his palms into his eyes until it hurts and then tugging his hands through tangled hair, getting his fingers caught in snarls. Dean huffs out some air, and Sam’s ready for him to turn around, to get back to—to whatever he was doing, drinking, watching a movie, trying to sleep with all the devils running around in his head, but he opens the door further, and limps his way into the room. He takes a seat on the corner of the bed, bracing himself on his good knee. With a sigh like Sam’s forcing him to say it, Dean asks, “Ready to talk about it?” And in an abstract way, Sam kind of is. But, if he did, it would hurt Dean. It would hurt this balance that they have, the tension would ratchet on up, increments at a time, and drown him. Choke him. “No,” he says, finally, after a moment where he pretends to consider it. Dean makes a face in the corner of his vision, rolls his eyes in Sam’s direction, “You’re always harping on me to tell you everything. Glad to know I’m still not the only hypocrite in the family.” Something in the phrasing of that breaks Sam’s heart into another piece, makes his tongue curl in disgust. “I—I’m not, Dean,” he forces out, “I’m fine.” Dean narrows his eyes and bites out, “Yeah, sure. What was it this time? Poltergeist in Santa Monica? Lake monster in St. Petersburg?” Sam turns his head to blink at Dean, uncomprehending for a moment before it clicks, and the pit in his stomach sinks. “It wasn’t—I didn’t have a vision,” he’s mostly sure of that, at least, “It was just—just a,” he tilts his head down and stares at his hands, “a run-of-the-mill nightmare.” “You’re sure?” “Yes I’m sure,” Sam retorts, feeling queasy. “Because if not, we need to get somebody to take care of—” “It was about Gadreel, okay?” Sam interrupts, clenching his fists and teeth, “Not a hunt.” Dean backs down visibly, shoulders sinking in and face turning stony. “Still on that boat, huh?” Sam closes his eyes, breathes through the anger as best he can and growls a, “Yeah.” For a second, there’s silence. “He saved your life,” Dean says. Sam has to unclench his jaw to respond, “I know. Doesn’t make it any better.” Dean breathes in heavily, turns to face him, “I’d do it again,” he says, matter-of-fact, “In a heartbeat.” The pit in Sam’s stomach tries to swallow him whole, and it’s just like Dean to finally decide to have a conversation about it, after all these months, when he’s ready, on his time, on his terms. Sam can’t do this. He can’t lie, can’t be okay with it. “I was ready to die, Dean,” he forces out, not meeting his brother’s eyes, too afraid that that’s what will pull him over the edge of fury, “You tricked me.” And there it is, the honest truth. Dean tricked him into something—the one thing—that terrifies him the most. There were millions of chances where Gadreel could have—he’d been in Sam, it was— “If the situation were reversed,” Dean says, voice steady, but tension in it, “and I was dying,” he shakes his head, “you’d do the same thing.” Sam’s heartbeat is racing. His skin is clammy. He knows exactly what he’s going to say when he says it. “No, Dean,” he says, evenly, “I wouldn’t.” In his peripheral vision, he can see how uncomprehending Dean is. “Same circumstances?” he continues, feeling sick at the very idea of making his brother go through that, he’d hurt himself before ever doing that, “I wouldn’t.” It hurts. It hurts to admit it. It hurts to think about it. The thought of letting Dean die—the thought of giving him up, just to save him —it kills him. He knows—he wouldn’t last long without Dean. It would be killing them both. Maybe it would be worth it. Can’t hurt the world if you’re not in it. And Dean? He’d be heading to heaven. To life with Lisa and Ben, or Benny, or whoever else made happy memories with him. He could let him go, knowing that he’d be happier. Dean is taken aback. He’s hurt. Sam knows it, can feel it in the air, read it in Dean’s shoulders, feel the ache of it in his own stomach. Dean leaves. Just stands and leaves. And that’s usually Sam’s move, walking away from a conversation. He isn’t used to Dean pulling it. That’s why he tells himself it’s okay to let him go. To let him limp out, sans crutches he really should be using. Crutches Sam can’t force himself to mention. Dean can’t understand what Sam would do to save him from that. He can’t ever understand what it feels like to have something—someone else—living in you, pushing you down—drowning you— It’s cold.   It's a small note in the middle of Walter Pearson's journal that does him in. There is some evidence that angelic possession leaves behind trace amounts of grace. CH3 is attempting to find a way to extract it without harm to the individual. He doesn't have anything in his stomach to puke up, but he kind of wishes he did. “Sam!” Dean yells, “We’re out of beer!” He ignores Dean. The pressure’s been building ever since Dean drank the last beer. Dean’s twitchy, angry. Some distant part of Sam is waiting for Dean to take it out on him, almost can’t wait for it. He hasn’t gone shopping in days. I speculate that these traces of grace could be used to summon an angel to one’s location. “Sam!” Dean calls again. Does it matter? Demon blood, angel grace, powers from years of breeding by heaven—it’s all the same. He never should’ve— “Sam! Dammit, where are you?” He scratches up his arms, lets them turn red. It is, however, likely that grace (if it always functions according to the findings in experiment 45T) can never be fully removed from a vessel, unless the soul is somehow removed as well. It’s always been his soul that’s the issue. “Sam,” Dean says, out-of-breath from limping around without his crutches, and leaning against the door to Sam’s room, “you need to go shopping.” “I’ll go shopping when you come with me,” Sam says, flipping a page in the book. “Sam,” Dean says, “we’ve been over this—” “Yeah,” Sam says, “We have.” Dean scowls and grits his teeth, and for one second, Sam thinks the fists his hands form will head in his direction. Then Dean turns around and limps away. Addendum: CH3 experiments concur with above statements. Grace is with a formal vessel until death. Full removal is not possible. Of course.   He doesn’t bother making an excuse the next time he leaves. He just yells down the hall and waits for Dean to reply. He hasn’t actually seen Dean at all for more than twenty-four hours, rotating around each other, caught in orbit. It’s a pressure, a strain. Sam knows it, ignores it, picks up a single duffle, straps it to his bike with a bungee cord, and heads out. The trip should have taken over three hours. He makes it just under two and a half. Back when he’d first learned to drive, he’d obeyed every speed limit sign like it was the word of God. Not much use for the word of God anymore. He takes a long route through town, resolutely ignoring everything he passes by. As he pulls up to park along the curb, a curious face peers at him through a fence. They stare at each other for a moment, and Sam feels a bit of a smile on his face. He’s tired, aching, and he leaves his helmet on the bike to go say hello to the dog. He can’t tell the breed, but it’s a big, black and white, fluffy one, and it shakes its tail ridiculously when Sam crouches down to offer his fingers up for sniffing. The dog woofs low in its belly and turns circles so Sam’s fingers brush along its fur. “She don’t usually like many people,” a gruff voice says, and Sam berates himself silently, tensing up for a fight. “Sorry, I should’ve asked if I could pet her,” he says, looking up to meet the eyes of an older gentleman, wearing a sunhat and overalls covered in dirt, from where he was presumably working in a backyard garden (either that or burying a dead body, but Sam’s trying to be positive). The man squints at him and chides the dog, “Oreo, sit,” to stop her from leaping up, trying to reach Sam through the fence. Sam tries to calm his breathing and compulsively sticks his hands in his back pockets so he can feel the bump where he’s concealing a gun. The guy looks him up and down. “You Sam?” He questions, and Sam’s heart rate doubles again. He scans the street, reminds himself of where his weapons are, and answers, “Uh, yeah?” The man nods, “Missouri said you’d be by,” he tilts his head toward the mailbox reading Moseley, “She’s out on business, asked me to keep an eye out for anyone stopping by.” Sam tries to smile, “Thanks for that. Guess I’ll stop by later.” “She also said,” the guy nearly interrupts, “that you were a, and I quote, ‘scared fellow, good with dogs and babies and not with when to run or not’, so if you get in here, I’ll get you some ice tea and we can both wait for her to get back.” Sam’s tongue juts out to wet his lips and he tries to recenter himself. There’s always been reasons hunters don’t like psychics all that much as a group. Times like this, Sam remembers why. “I—uh,” he stammers out, backing up a step, “Thanks, but I can, uh, I’ll come back.” “She said you’d say that, damn woman,” the guy says, rolling his eyes, “but I owe her a favor or twelve, so if you don’t get in here, I’ll have to insist.” He takes off a gardening glove (no blood, Sam notes somewhere in the back of his brain) and lifts the gate latch, using his other hand to ward off Oreo, who is bounding with excitement. Sam doesn’t like the word ‘insist,’ so he carefully steps forward, and then into the fenced yard when the man steps back to let him inside. Oreo almost immediately bounds over to him, nearly knocking him down. Sam chances an analysing glance at the guy, and then kind of gives up. He’s got no way to toss holy water on the guy without looking absolutely insane, and Chriso wouldn’t work on any demon worth their salt. The guy could be any number of things, he could be laying a trap, Missouri could already be dead— Sam crouches down and is bowled over by the massive dog, who barks happily and tries to lick his face. He does his best to cover it with his arms, but Oreo is very insistent. The guy is laughing, and the part of Sam that is busy freaking out is convinced that this is it, this is how he dies, this was the trap all along— And then the guy’s grabbing Oreo’s collar and pulling her off of Sam, chuckling, “Sorry ‘bout that, swear that usually she’d just go for biting your arms off instead.” It’s some kind of bizarre humor, and Sam can’t help but grin, picking himself back up, “If you say so,” he offers, quietly. “I do say so,” the man retorts back, and then starts dragging Oreo to the porch, “This way, I’ll get you some tea. Name’s Jorge, by the way.” “Nice to meet you,” Sam starts to say, voice fading as Jorge continues to walk away from him. He silently lowers the hand he’d been raising for a handshake and follows him up the porch steps. Jorge points him to a chair and then walks into the house. Oreo bounds up to Sam and wiggles fiercely in his personal space. He gives in and starts petting. Jorge slams a cup of ice tea in front of him a couple minutes later and takes the other seat. “What you think about the game?” Jorge asks, taking a swig of his own drink. Sam blinks and hesitantly takes a sip of the tea, “Uh, which one?” Jorge’s eyes light up, and he dives into an explanation of the game that apparently gave away the fact that he must live under a rock (he’s not...wrong). Sam gets a play-by-play of every move, every player, and every game that’s led up to it. Oreo rests her head on his leg, and he scratches behind her ears. It’s nice. Jorge apparently doesn’t expect any input from Sam except a couple ‘wows’ and ‘uh-huhs’. Overhead, the sun stretches to the west. When Missouri finally shows up, it’s somehow a bit of a surprise. “Sam Winchester,” she says, when she reaches the top of the porch steps, interrupting Jorge’s analysis of the ref’s penalty decisions, and placing her hands on her hips, “how long’s it been?” Sam gently nudges Oreo’s head off his leg and stands, ducking his head and shoulders down, “Long time.” “Mmm hmm,” Missouri hums, unimpressed look in her eyes before they soften and she opens her arms, “get in here boy.” He leans in for the hug, and after he loosens his grip, she holds on a little longer. When he can finally lean back, he finds Missouri’s hand on his cheek, pressing against the scruff, and she pats it like she doesn’t know what else to do. “You poor thing,” she says, shaking her head, eyes watery. Sam tries to smile, doesn’t think it comes out right, and pulls away. “Well, thank you Jorge,” Missouri states, turning to her neighbor who’s leaning back, watching them, “Lord knows this one would’ve chickened out if there wasn’t nobody nearby to stop him, and those Richardsons needed a whole lotta help.” Jorge raises his glass in recognition, and turns his gaze to Sam, grinning, “Good to talk with you, Sam. Stop by anytime, Oreo could use the doting. She’s higher maintenance than I can keep up with.” “Uh, thanks,” Sam says, quickly, patting Oreo’s head in goodbye when she nudges it, “And for the tea,” he gestures to his empty glass. “Anytime,” Jorge says, before turning to Missouri, “And that’s one less favor I owe you.” Missouri rolls her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I know you been keeping track.” She starts back down the stairs and Sam follows, heart racing. When they reach the gate, Oreo tries to follow, so Sam has to push back against her, with all the gentleness he can, to close the gate. Oreo whines, and he feels awful. “Come on Sam, the dog will get over it, don’t you worry.” He snaps to attention and follows Missouri up to her house and through the front door. “Grab a seat in there,” she says, gesturing to the same room he’d seen all those years ago, now with furniture and paint changed, “I’ll be in in a moment.” “Thanks,” he says, his boots clunking against the floor as he follows her directions. He settles himself on a couch and presses his hands together. It makes the largest scar on his left hand brush against the palm of his right. He links his fingers together like that, rubbing his hands back and forth. The last time he was here . . . he’d had no idea what things were headed his way. Their way. Dean hadn’t been to hell. Dad had still been alive. Jess’ death had been fresh— “Boy, if you don’t turn off those gloomy thoughts you’ll end up like your brother,” Missouri says, “And how is he?” “Uh,” Sam says, freezing in place, “Fine.” He thinks about the beer cans and bottles he’s cleaned up in the past month, Dean trying to limp around without his crutches. That awful journey after the Wendigo, knowing that if he didn’t get his brother out— “Don’t you be lying to me,” Missouri says, sitting down across the coffee table from him and setting a plate down. Sam looks at her blankly. “Well, don’t stare at it, eat up,” she says, “You’re skin and bones.” “Missouri, I—” he starts. She reaches out and swats at his entwined hands, “I invite you into my home, the least you can do is eat my food.” And, oh, she’s right, he’s rude and ungrateful and ruining everything and— “Oh Sam,” she says as he reaches out to pick up the plate—turkey sandwich and an apple, cut up into slices, “baby, you—” She chokes up, and Sam freezes, a triangle half of the sandwich on the way to his mouth. Missouri clasps her hands together, and that watery look is back in her eyes. She shakes her head back and forth, pressing her lips together, then draws in a breath. “Nevermind,” she says, “that’s not why you’ve come here, is it?” Sam takes a bite of the sandwich and shrugs. Missouri sighs, “Well, you’re not the only psychic to show up on my doorstep looking for answers.” The sandwich feels like it sticks in his throat, and Sam puts the plate back down. “So I’m—I’m really—” “You’ve been psychic a long while, Sam. But demons, they mess people up inside.” She shakes her head frowning. Something settles in Sam’s chest, and it’s familiar. Comfortable, almost. “So, I’m not supposed to—to have these powers?” It’s almost not a question. Missouri straightens up and that and scowls at him, “Now when did I say that? If you would turn off that brain of yours for a second and stop jumping to conclusions, maybe I could finish what I’m saying.” Sam shrinks back, chided. “Psychics are a funny thing,” Missouri says, “that phrase at least. Hunters use it, most everyone does, just to mean someone who can do something weird with their mind. Not like being able to do calculus problems without writing them down, but seeing the future or the past or moving things or seeing souls or touching souls.” Sam nods. He’s read every book the Men of Letters has on psychics that he can find. “Now, the reason all those get lumped together is because any given psychic can develop any one of those. Gifts tend to run in families, but not always. And when you first get your gifts, they can be a little,” she moves her hand in a circular motion, “all-over.” Sam picks up a piece of the apple and starts chewing. “But you,” she says, reaching out to grab his hand, “you had something leeching off your powers for years, locking them down. They never got a chance to develop.” And it clicks, finally, all the interweaving spiderwebs colliding. “So that’s what happening right now,” Sam says, breathing in sharply and digging the fingers of his free hand into his knee. “You been having problems with seeing things, been tossing things around? Seeing weird lights?” The world’s tilted, and Sam’s trying to get used to his new center of gravity. “Yeah. Yeah.” Missouri nods and he fumbles a bit, pulling his hand back so he can scratch at his neck. “So,” Sam says, and something like a laugh bubbles up from his belly, “I’m going through psychic puberty.” “Seems like,” Missouri says, “I’m no expert, but I’ve seen a few psychics developing in my time.” For a second, Sam can’t breathe, and then he can and it’s like he hasn’t been breathing his whole life. Missouri talks more about it, how to handle them, how to work on focusing his gift and figure out what it is his specialty is. He doesn’t tell her that he already knows. He manages to choke down the sandwich and apple before he leaves, and Missouri hugs him tight. “Bring that brother of yours next time,” she says, finally letting him go. “I will,” Sam lies, turning to leave. “And Sam,” she says, stopping him, “call if you need anything. Anything at all.” She holds out a sticky note with a phone number on it. He runs his thumb over it and nods, tucking it into his breast pocket. The ride back is easier. He doesn’t weave in and out of traffic, he takes the long way around. It’s not normal, but it’s other people’s normal. And if he does this right, he can leave it behind for good.   There's a door inside room 16C. It opens up to a spiral staircase evidently not made with people of Sam's height in mind. He squeezes down, hunched over. They keep going down. And down. When he hits the ground, it's dirt. He's glad he pulled on his jacket before he ventured out, because there's a flashlight in the breast pocket. Enochian sigils shine back at him. He turns around, following the writing all the way around the chamber. Words he knows pop up, and he does his best not to translate them out of sheer habit (sheer terror). There’s one wall without sigils. He walks closer, and feels a hum, and his headache thrums forcefully against his skull. He can taste the magic on his tongue. He backs away and goes back to glancing at the sigils and writings. They’re not all Enochian. He spots Etruscan and Ako-Bo phonetic spellings and a couple he doesn’t recognize. There’s some gaps in between sentences and shapes, and an idea floats into his head.   He loads up the cart in Home Depot, mulling over what he needs. When he checks out, the cashier asks, “New project?” Sam smiles, “Decided to get into rock carving.” The cashier smiles back and tells him his total.   “You haven't gone hipster on me, have you?” Dean asks when Sam enters the kitchen. Sam spots the food, and for once he and his stomach are on the same page. “Huh?” He asks, spooning himself up a plate and plonking it down on the table. Dean gestures with his fork, “Y'know, the hair, the hipster glasses, the scruff,” he uses his free hand to rub at his own chin. Sam blinks and looks down at what he's wearing. Camo pants and a t-shirt that was originally white, both of them covered in dust. “Yeah, army hipster chic, it's the newest thing,” he says around a mouthful of lasagna, “And my hair’s not long enough to be hipster.” Dean rolls his eyes. “So, what’re you doing?” Dean finally asks, when it becomes clear that Sam won’t volunteer the information. Sam swallows and responds, “Found where all the Bunker’s protections are. Or at least some of them, anyway. Just wanted to add some stuff.” For a second, it looks like Dean’ll ask what, but then the conversation ends. Sam’s distantly glad. Telling Dean he’s still paranoid about Lucifer getting in was not on his to-do list today.   When they both finally snap, it's a long time coming. Dean’s sick of limping around and needing help to get up and down stairs without his leg giving out on him, and he’s antsy, needing something to busy him with every moment. Sam’s been feeling out of his head for days, and he can’t keep anything down anymore, eating whatever he needs to when Dean calls him out on not eating, only to chuck it up not long after. The trials were supposed to kill him. Angels can’t fix evil. Sam loses weight he doesn’t really have to lose. He can tell, because even Dean notices and makes Sam more food to make up for it. Not much sticks. He tries to puke in the bathroom furthest from Dean. Doors slam sometimes, when Sam slams back into his head. His migraines get worse. He and Dean get snippy at each other—which is normal to a degree, but has taken on a sharp edge that leaves Sam anxious. It comes to a head one day, when Dean shuffles his way into the library where Sam’s busy digitizing file cards and puts a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich and an apple on it in front of him. When Dean hits his leg against the edge of a table as Sam tries to give his thanks, he goes down with a thud, catching himself on his forearms. “Dean!” Sam’s out of his seat like a shot, arms tucked under Dean’s armpits, hefting him up, kicking a chair out from under the table to get him situated it. “Damn it, I’m fine Sam, geddoff me.” Sam prods his arms for breaks or sprains, and Dean wrenches his arms away. “I said get off,” Dean snarls, “boundaries much?” And normally, Sam would back off. He would escape—to his room, to the kitchen, outside the bunker—and take a breather. He’d refocus on why Dean is the way he is, he’d think about all the stuff Dean’s been through, and he’d start to feel sorry for storming off. Eventually, he’d do something to make up for it and hope Dean would understand. This is different. He’s got anger rolling around in his gut, he’s got Missouri’s words rattling around in his brain, Crowley’s face once he realized seared into his mind. He’s run out of things to add to the stone walls underneath them. He’s got a headache that never goes away now, and his visions have dissolved into unhelpful glimpses that only serve to make him anxious about whoever is going to die because he doesn’t have control over his powers. Dean talking about boundaries—well, he took tenth-grade chemistry in seven different states, he knows that that’s called a catalyst. “Like you’d understand boundaries if they hit you in the face,” he mutters, backing away from Dean to reorganize the index cards he sent into disarray by standing up so quickly. Out of the corner of his eyes he watches Dean’s face shift through confusion to shock, and settle on anger. Some dark thing inside him that he can’t blame on demon blood rears its head, and his heart picks up speed. “The hell you say to me?” Dean says, the hand he left on the table curling into a fist. And here, here is where he should back down. This is where he says, ‘sorry, I haven’t slept,’ this is where he plays the little brother card, lets his eyes get big and wide and watery to make Dean back off. This is where he decides to play therapist to fix Dean, this is where he gets frustrated (but not angry) and leaves, goes to the room that’s his and only his. Instead, he places an index card back in its stack and meets Dean’s eyes, “I said,” he says, calmly, “You wouldn’t understand boundaries if they smacked you in the face.” Dean’s eyes narrow, “And what’s that supposed to mean?” He stands back up, catching himself with the hand that isn’t prepared to swing. Sam lets out a huff, “It’s supposed to mean that you’re a hypocrite.” “Hypocrite, yeah. Sure,” Dean drawls out, “Hark who’s talking.” “Yeah, I am. Just because I have things wrong with me doesn’t mean everything I say is wrong.” “And what’s that supposed to mean, huh? You think I don’t listen to you? I’ve been stuck with you my whole life, and when have I ever seriously ignored you?” “There’s a difference between ignoring and not listening,” Sam says, settling into a stance with his arms crossed. “Is this still about that Gadreel stuff?” “Maybe,” Sam says with a shrug, “or maybe not. It’s about everything.” Dean huffs and shakes his head, “You know, I should be the one angry at you.” “You are,” Sam points out. Dean stutters for a second, glaring, “Yeah, yeah I am. You know why? Because I thought I had a brother who was gonna stand by me. I thought we were in this together. And then you’re just living life saying you wouldn’t try to save me?” Something in Dean’s voice crackles. “Dean, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” “Sure about that? Because that’s what it sounded like to me,” Dean says, holding his arms wide. Sam’s stomach knots itself closer to Gordian with every word. “Dean,” he says, backing down, lowering his voice, “if it was the same situation I was in, yeah. I wouldn’t save you.” Dean snorts and shakes his head, and Sam thinks maybe those are tears in his eyes. “And besides,” Sam says, “it was useless. You could’ve saved Cas instead, you could’ve gotten him out of there.” “And how do you know that?” Dean snarls. “Crowley,” Sam shrugs, “he had a lot to say about it too.” “Sam, you don’t understand a single dam word that’s coming out of your mouth.” “No, I think I understand just fine. You made the call, you did it. You picked forcing my worst nightmare on me instead of saving somebody from their family that’s probably torturing him right now—” And then he’s seeing stars from on the ceiling, and his jaw is on fire. Dean shakes out his fist and tries to catch his balance again. “Y’know, I thought I left Dad behind when we burned him,” Dean spits out, voice wobbling, “but turns out you’re just the same as him,” he leans over the table with hellfire in his eyes. For a second Sam still can’t breathe. He doesn’t know what the word means. The next time he inhales, it’s in his room, bent over a trash can, heaving. He packs his bags like he’s just leaving for another hunt. The steps shudder with the force he applies to them as he goes up them. Dean yells after him, furious. Sam doesn’t listen, because he knows that the moment he steps out that door he won’t be coming back. He feels guilt swell in his chest when he hears Dean trip over his bad leg and go crashing down again, but the second he hears him cursing and getting back to his feet, he’s back on autopilot. He starts the motorbike without any trouble and guns it.  

"It's such a joke," Toni hisses, viciously pouring out the drink orders and sending them sliding down the greasy bar. "What's shipping us up to Riverdale High gonna do? The people there won't give us the time of day."  Fangs shrugs, cramming another mouthful of peanuts down his throat. "At least there'll be better facilities. Imagine not having to sneak in knives just to make sure you don't get mugged in the bathrooms." Sweet Pea doesn't chime in. He doesn't care. Not really. School is school, it doesn't matter where they go. And they're Serpents. They've got each other's backs and no one will mess with them. Not that anyone at Riverdale High could if they wanted to. The kids up there are soft and vulnerable; easy to rough up if they have to. He thinks Toni's giving them too much credit. The Northside is all bark and no bite. The Southside's got the teeth; sharp, vicious canines that go right for the jugular. Whatever happens, it's just gonna be more classes and more assignments. Sure, it's a bit more of a journey to school, but other than that, it's not worth noting. And it's not like he's walking there, he has his bike.  He might miss his locker though. Memories and shit.  The White Wyrm is crowded tonight, but it always is on a Friday. Serpents are splayed out everywhere, and the scent of liquor and cigarettes is floating through the air. Fangs and Sweet Pea have been waiting for a pool table to open up for a while now, but Mustang is playing a very long, very boring game. Sweet Pea's considering bouncing. He wants to go home to his trailer and crash with Hot Dog, and maybe try another song on his guitar. A few chords have been strumming around his head all day. He's decided on it, and just pushed himself off the sticky, threadbare coating on the barstools, when his name is yelled across the bar.  "Sweet Pea! C'm here."  He swallows thickly, his eyes go wide and he knows a few other heads have swivelled to look at him. He just got called out- by name- by the King. He straightens his back and turns slowly. As he does so, Toni meets his eyes. She looks worried and a little bit jealous, and Fangs just looks confused. He turns to see FP Jones at the doorway. He's clearly just walked in and he's framed by the night outside. A number of Serpents have stood up in respectful greeting, and they fall back as FP stares expectantly at Sweet Pea. He's not coming inside, so he's clearly waiting for Sweet Pea to come to him. The younger Serpent trips over his feet a little, stumbling in his haste, and manages to pat Fangs on the back as he heads for the door. "Hey," he says, a little nervous, once he's within reach.  FP nods, eyes flickering up and down his body like he's sizing him up. Sweet Pea stands a little taller, puffs up his chest a little too, and raises his chin. He wants to be worthy for whatever task and he wants to prove himself. He's been hand-picked by the King and that's something to be proud of. "Outside with me," FP murmurs, and he turns and walks out into the darkness. Sweet Pea swallows the lump in his throat, and follows him outside.  FP is an intimidating man. He's tall and broad and there's a hardness in his eyes that says he's been through some shit. He's one of the few people that Sweet Pea respects and he knows it's the same for all the Serpents. FP is a good leader. The best leader. He's given up everything for the Serpents, they're his life, and he puts nothing before them. He would do anything for them, and he's done a great deal. He's already served time and taken the hits, and anyone who dares ever show a flicker of disloyalty for him is stripped of their jacket and sent on their way. Sweet Pea's a little bit honoured to be in his presence.  It's cold outside as they crunch onto the gravel. Sweet Pea wishes he had his jacket on, but it's back home. He's in a vest and a sleeveless overlay, and his tattoo shines in the moonlight on his arm. FP is still sizing him up, but is nodding a little now. Like whatever he has in mind- he thinks Sweet Pea can do it. Sweet Pea's glad. He works out, he's tough, he's tall and he's strong. He's valuable. "You're all moving to Riverdale High next week, that right?" FP murmurs. His voice is rough, and it's not really a question.  Sweet Pea answers like it is. "Yeah. Monday." He resists the urge to tack on a sir to the end.  FP nods again, rubbing the stubble on his cheek and Sweet Pea's a little jealous. He wishes he could grow stubble. "My boy's up there."  Sweet Pea frowns, blinking in confusion.  "At Riverdale High. Always has been. His name is Jughead. At least, I think that's what he still goes by. Pop says it is."  Oh shit. Oh shit. Sweet Pea is reeling. Jughead Jones has been in Riverdale all this time? The son of the Serpent King has been in Riverdale all this time? But-but- why hadn't he gone with FP's wife and daughter? Why was Jughead still here? And more pressingly, why was Jughead still here and not part of the Serpents? Why was he going to Riverdale High and not Southside High? Why wasn't he living here at the trailer park? Where was he living? The questions are all racing through his head and he wonders how many people are actually privy to this information. He's guessing not a lot by the fact that they're out here in the darkness, and he's not surprised why. If the ghoulies knew that FP Jones had a son...Jughead would have been dead long before now.  "He's your age," FP continues, as if unaware to the gigantic bomb he's dropped. "He'll be in your year. Some of your classes."  He's suddenly not sure what's supposed to be happening here. What is Sweet Pea supposed to do? Is he supposed to...to hurt Jughead Jones? Is that why they don't live together? Does FP hate his son? It wouldn't be the first time he's been tasked with hurting someone- though it will be the first time he's been given that task directly by FP.  "I want you to look out for him."  It seems he won't stop being surprised tonight. He stares up at FP in shock. FP doesn't look like he's joking though. He looks deadly serious. More serious that Sweet Pea's ever seen.  "He won't want your help, but he needs it. You don't tell him it came from me- he'll push you away if he finds out, hell, that boy will try to push you away anyway. He's stubborn as hell and thinks he can make it through everything on his own," FP sounds...FP sounds fond. Fond and pleased in a way that Sweet Pea's never heard before. "You don't tell anyone who he is, okay, not even your little friends in there. This is your mission, Sweet Pea."  He nods, still trying to wrap his brain around it all. "But- protect him from who?" He asks. What do Northsiders even have to be afraid of? "Everyone. Anyone. Himself." FP offers, which isn't particularly helpful at all. "And you tell me how he's doing. You report back to me. I don't know...I don't know how he's getting by. I used to be able to keep tabs all over town and now the Drive-In's been closed down and I don't know." His voice cracks a little bit and Sweet Pea realises something else. He's not talking to the King. He's talking to a father.  Sweet Pea doesn't have parents. Well, he must do, biologically, though he's never fucking met them. He was left here on the Southside and they probably skipped town. He's been raised communally by the Serpents, just like Fangs. Toni kinda, but she's had her grandfather. But this...Sweet Pea likes to think that maybe, somewhere, his dad cares about him the way that FP seems to care about his son now. They clearly have a very fractured relationship, but FP's trying. "Okay," he says, because he can't say no, but also because he wants to say yes.  FP nods, like he expected nothing less. He prods Sweet Pea's chest, and his eyes are blazing green with earnestness. "You come to me if you have any problems, you come straight to me, okay?"  He nods again, unable to find words, and he watches as FP turns and walks into the night and disappears.  Riverdale High is something out of a movie.  Annoyingly bright and chipper and fucking perfect in a way that makes Sweet Pea hunch into his jacket and glare at everyone who smiles brightly at him. A few people give him looks, sneery looks like they're better than him and he glares right back because this place doesn't have metal detectors and he can have a dagger to the throat of anyone who looks at him the wrong way if he wanted to. On the plus side, the facilities are good and he's given a new locker that doesn't have rusted hinges and peeling paint. Even Toni looks reluctantly impressed, and she clutches her books to her chest with her ripped jeans and stands in the entry way of the cafeteria and looks out with wide eyes. Fangs too, is a bundle of excitement beside him.  There's two tables on the right that have been claimed by the Serpents, and that's where they're supposed to go to, but as they head over, Sweet Pea catches a glimpse of a blue beanie and he stops.  FP had given him a little more detail over the weekend. Not a lot, but enough. And sure enough, there's a skinny figure sitting alone at a large table, wearing exactly the type of blue hand-knitted crown shaped beanie that FP had described. That's him. Jughead Jones. The Jughead Jones who has no sort of online presence at all, so Sweet Pea hadn't managed to do any cyber-stalking. He shoves Toni and Fangs over to the Serpents table and mumbles under his breath about having business to do. Toni narrows her eyes at him, but doesn't say anything because she's smarter than that. Fangs waves cheerily.  Sweet Pea carries his tray of food- and it's decent food, actually, not the sludge that was served back in Southside, at least he can see where all the money in Riverdale is going- and he heads towards the empty table. He wonders why it's empty. Is Jughead Jones a pariah? A loser? A friendless creep? As he gets closer, he can make out the narrow frame and the oversized green plaid. He seems normal enough. He moves around the front of the table and dumps his tray with a clatter, watching with satisfaction and amusement as the skinny boy jumps and looks up. That amused satisfaction quickly dissipates. Because looking up at him is...is...is the biggest pair of green eyes he's ever seen. The palest skin and the darkest hair that peeks out from under that beanie. There are pink, pink lips and a small nose and a sharp jaw and he's struck by the fact that anyone can actually look like that in real life. Like a fucking disney character. This boy is Bambi and Eric all wrapped up in one. But there's something else to his appearance too. He suddenly pictures Jughead out of those clothes and is winded by how ethereal this boy seems. The eyes, those green eyes though, are FP's eyes. He's found who he's looking for. Jughead's eyebrows knit together and he frowns up at him. "Can I help you?" He says, in a tone that's mostly neutral but erring on the side of unfriendly.  Sweet Pea curses his own libido and plops himself down opposite. "I'm sitting here," he says matter-of-factly, and reaches for one of his fries. Confidence is key after all. Jughead stares at him, and his eyes flicker to the supple black leather of his jacket. He makes a face. Interesting, Sweet Pea thinks, that's interesting. Jughead Jones grimaces at the sight of Serpent jackets. Does that have something to do with why he's not living at home?  "Would you like me to move?" Jughead says finally, a sigh in his voice. Oh god. He understands FP's wish for someone to look out for this boy now. He's clearly been pushed around. He's so fucking skinny. He's all fluffy hair and big eyes.  Sweet Pea scoffs before he can help himself. Who the hell is this kid? He doesn't seem like the son of a King. "No, you're alright. You sit there." He says, and wants to roll his eyes as Jughead obediently stops shuffling and stays seated. "I'm Sweet Pea." He offers out his hand. Jughead stares at him like he's crazy. He reaches out to take his hand and they shake it slowly before Jughead withdraws. He looks very confused. It's a good look on him. "I'm...thoroughly disturbed." He murmurs, but goes back to eating his lunch, albeit, more hesitantly than before. His eyes keep darting up to Sweet Pea's face and then back down at his food. It's funny. Like watching a squirrel size up a dog. "Sweet Pea?" Jughead says, testing the name on his tongue after he's apparently processed their introduction. "That's weird." He can fucking talk. What the hell kind of name is Jughead? Sweet Pea doesn't say that though. He's got a little more tact. "You got something better?" He quips, finishing off his fries. It's exactly the right thing to say. Jughead seems to soften a little bit, and his mouth twists into an unintentional lazy half-smile that has Sweet Pea's heart quickening ever so slightly. "Not really. Burdened with Jughead over here." He says self-deprecatingly. He clearly doesn't know what he looks like. Doesn't know how his face lights up when he smiles. Sweet Pea snorts like it's the first time he's hearing the name. "And you were giving me stick." "It's a defence mechanism," Jughead teases, and then looks surprised at himself for doing so. He turns to look at the table of Serpents and then back at Sweet Pea. He's struck, suddenly, by the intelligence suddenly glinting in Jughead's eyes. He looks dangerously smart. "I'd be sitting with them, if I were you. This is the social pariah table. I'm the president and I'm here all the time, but we get some guests staying too, sometimes. Like Veronica," he turns to look over at a raven-haired girl with an expensive dress on. "She's over here sometimes. Or Dilton," he looks at a boy in a cubs scout uniform. "But you should be over with your crew. It's less hassle that way."  Is he...is he trying to protect Sweet Pea? Oh, there's something cute about that. This boy is probably the most fragile thing Sweet Pea has ever seen in his whole life. "I think I can handle it," he smirks, and notices the way Jughead's eyes linger on his mouth. Okay. Something to explore there. "Maybe you need a Co-President. Or a body guard. I can take whoever's tossing shit at you."  Jughead's eyes narrow. He looks suspicious in ways that Sweet Pea thinks is probably not good. "And what would you want out of that deal?"  He shrugs, going for nonchalance but not totally convinced he pulled it off. Maybe he should have come in with a plan. Instead, he works with what he's got and leans over to steal one of Jughead's fries now that he's finished his own. Jughead scowls and smacks his hand away, tugging his tray closer to him possessively. "I don't know yet." He says honestly, rather than trying to think of an impromptu lie. "I'll let you know when I've come up with it."  Jughead frowns, but his eyes seem to be a little fixated on the bulge of Sweet Pea's arms through the leather, so as he flexes, he counts it as a win.   

--- xxx ---   Kurosaki Ichigo   Stuck with a flower crown and a grumbling and growling arrancar should have been an awful start to a day. It wasn't. Ichigo was...happy?   Apparently, he was much less frightening to shinigami with flowers in his hair. The absurdity wasn't enough to ease most, if anything their fear was worse, simply watered down with confusion. Rukia swore up and down it helped his image and Grimmjow loathed it, so Ichigo believed her.   “It's degrading,” Grimmjow grumbled. He was perched on the railing of their chosen building, hunched forward on his knees. Ichigo couldn't help but notice his jacket rode up his back, revealing pale skin and the bottom of a 6.   Nothing about this situation was different, not really, but he had the inexplicable compulsion to touch. “They're just flowers,” Ichigo said, absently. He could see straight through his hollow hole to clear blue skies, the corded muscle in his lower back tensing with the bounce of his leg.   “I should have made you one too,” Rukia said.   “Stick a flower in my hair and I'll rip your arm off.”   Ichigo chided, “Tsk, that's a little over dramatic.” He put his hand on his lower back, unreasonably pleased when Grimmjow allowed it. His skin was warm, the slide of muscle under his hand a feeling he wanted to explore. But now he was touching him for no good reason, and he felt he needed a reason. So he pushed him off the railing.   “Fuck!” Grimmjow made a startled sound trapped somewhere between a shout and a snarl, catching himself in the air on reishi footholds not ten feet below the railing. “The fuck was that for?” he called up.   Rukia giggled somewhere to his right and Ichigo said, “Stop threatening your coworkers.”   “She started it,” the arrancar grumbled, jumping back up to the rooftop.   “Flowers aren't a threat,” Ichigo said. He noticed Grimmjow kept some wary distance between them this time, and Ichigo tried not to let his disappointment over that show.   Rukia mused, “Is there something we're missing?”   Tearing his eyes from Grimmjow, Ichigo looked back at Rukia and asked, “What do you mean? Missed something?”   “You say you thought you freed something?”   Ichigo's mind wandered back to that laughing shadow of a skeleton, and hedged, “Yeah?”   “So,” Rukia continued, “We're expecting to find it in the same place; through a soul passing over or a hollow slain with a zanpakuto. If you chained a dog in a yard and the chain broke, you wouldn't expect the dog to remain in the yard, right?”   Ichigo blinked at her. “That...makes sense.”   “You telling me we're wasting our time?” Grimmjow said.   “I'm just guessing,” Rukia said. She folded her arms and frowned, “This doesn't seem right.”   “What do ya mean?” Grimmjow asked.   Ichigo pushed his hair from his face, until his claws scraped the edge of a horn. “No, I get it,” he sighed. “The rules have changed.”   “So how the fuck do we find it?” Grimmjow asked. He stepped up so they were shoulder to shoulder, his arm casually brushing against his own.   Ichigo felt both of their eyes on him and he frowned. “I don't know, okay?”   “You said you sensed it before,” Grimmjow said.   Ichigo let a bark of laughter slip through his teeth. It sounded a little more hysterical than he thought it would. “But it ran away,” Ichigo said. “And I can't sense it anymore. Do you have any idea the level of noise in my head? It's too much. Screaming and whispering, souls and reishi and power everywhere ; I can barely fucking tune it out. It wants me to listen, but I don't want to.”   Ichigo stopped when Grimmjow stepped into his line of sight, sharp blue eyes searching him for something. His voice was forcibly calm, Ichigo noticed a tight line of tension buried in his words. “We won't ask you to.”   Ichigo stared at him, eyes snapping to his own wrist when Grimmjow’s fingers brushed against him. Blood dripped from clenched fists from where his own claws scored his palms, and he felt a flash of shame. He hadn't even noticed.   Grimmjow's touch melted his tension, the arrancar's fingers slowly uncurling his grip to hold his hand, heedless of the blood that stained his fingers. “We'll find another way.”   Rukia pointedly looked elsewhere, giving him the few seconds he needed to pull himself together. These were the things he didn't want others to see. Especially the people he cared about.   Tiny failures, flickers of proof that he was falling apart.   “Easy King. Focus.”   That's right, focus on Grimmjow, forget everything else. Forget it, ignore it.   Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Ichigo narrowed his focus to Grimmjow's breath, the beautiful, wild burn of his soul. He breathed with him, ribs expanding with a slow, full breath. He felt Grimmjow’s fingers pressuring bones and flesh in an unyielding grip, one that should have been bordering on pain.   Ichigo squeezed back and opened his eyes.   Worry swam in those blue eyes, but there was also relief and pride. “There ya go,” Grimmjow murmured. He let his hand go, shifting his grip to his wrist with the gentle trail of his fingertips along the taut lines of his tendons. He lifted Ichigo's hand to his mouth, licking the blood from his palm. A shiver raced up his spine along with the path Grimmjow marked with his tongue. Ichigo watched, transfixed, as his tongue traced a warm, wet trail up his lifeline and curled around a digit, carefully closing his lips around a claw. Holy shit.   Rukia cleared her throat. “Should I leave?”   Ichigo flinched, having forgotten she was there, a blush settling on his cheeks.   Grimmjow pulled away to speak, voice hoarse. “Yes.”   “No,” Ichigo countered. Grimmjow’s lips turned down into a frown bordering on a pout. Ichigo let out a heavy breath, gently pulling his hand away. He tore his eyes away with just as much difficulty to look at Rukia, continuing as if he'd never stopped. “Proximity matters, if it's nearby, it can't hide, but if it runs to a dimension I can't follow, it's as good as gone.”   “You ignoring me?” Grimmjow growled, indignant.   “Attempting too,” Ichigo said. And it was hard . Grimmjow was a wonderful distraction, and the arrancar knew it.   Grimmjow reached around behind him, snatching the flower crown from his head.  Ichigo turned and whined, “Hey.”   His conduit waved it like a trophy in front of his nose, a smug smirk on his face. “Not payin’ attention.”   That was true, he tended to let his guard down around Grimmjow, and of course the other would flaunt it.   Rukia was watching with an embarrassed, but bemused smile, and hid it badly. She cleared her throat and tried to stay on topic, bless her heart. “So how do we chase it?”   Grimmjow looked at Ichigo and asked, “What’s it want? Find the prey, find the fucker.” He shrugged like this was common knowledge, and honestly, it was.   Ichigo frowned. “It mentioned sin. I don’t know how to find that.”   “How do you even measure that?” Rukia asked.   Brows drawn together, Ichigo thought aloud. “It’s subjective, can you?”   Grimmjow was edging closer to Ichigo, eyes raking over his shoulders, but his tone betrayed his investment in the conversation. “Who fucking cares? Find some motherfucker and kill him. That’ll attract it, right?”   “I’m not killing anyone,” Ichigo said. “You hate when I do that shit anyways.”   “What shit?” Grimmjow growled, “Why would I hate when you do what I say?”   Ichigo answered his first question lightly. “Judging people.”   That earned him a moment of tense silence and uncomfortable looks. Rukia’s was different from Grimmjow's; her’s was the look of someone on the outside looking in. She wasn’t his leash, his anchor, his sanity. Grimmjow was. And right now his brows were drawn tight with guilt.   Ichigo sighed through his nose. That wasn’t his intention, but he knew Grimmjow felt he’d disregarded his purpose. Ichigo reached out and flicked him in the temple, only hard enough to sting.   Hand snapping to his face, Grimmjow reared back and spat. “The fuck was that for?”   “You looked guilty, which is stupid.”   Grimmjow snarled, shoulders tensing into a tight line. “Fuckin’ hypocrite.”   A smile spread across Ichigo’s face, reading the lines of his anger with nothing but anticipation and joy. “Is that the best you could come up with?’   “Motherf-” Ichigo smashed their lips together in a kiss, smothering that insult before it could leave his mouth. The moment their lips touched he sent them elsewhere, anywhere really, for privacy.   Grimmjow’s hands found his hips, and Ichigo crushed them together, arms wrapped around him, jaws aching to bite, to devour the soul in his arms. Claws raked over Grimmjow’s shoulders, slicing through muscle like taffy. The arrancar groaned against his lips in pain, instincts warring within the arrancar in his arms.   Fight or flight; it rang in the arrancar so strongly he could taste it. He shivered and fought like a trapped bird in his arms, and Ichigo broke their kiss with a hiss, a hand yanking his head back with a firm grip in his hair. Snapping his jaws short of his conduit’s face with a growl, an arm snaked around his throat, hauling him off the arrancar and back in a steely grip.   Distance leant perspective, and Ichigo felt his tension drain away with a ragged exhale, falling limp against Zangetsu’s chest.   Grimmjow’s lips were smeared with blood, eyes wide and wary, but the look he gave him was merely expectant. “Ichigo?”   Ichigo was breathing almost as hard as Grimmjow, shutting his eyes with a weary mantra, “Yeah, yeah, yeah…”  He was Ichigo, that was him... so what was he doing?   He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes so hard he saw stars, irritated when it reminded him of die Konigin. It was so tempting to draw on the kugekito, to ease the hammering of need in his gut.   “Careful.”   Ichigo didn’t know what Zangetsu meant until he felt Grimmjow take his hands, fingers pressing into his palms, tugging them away from his face. Zangetsu kept a firm grim around his throat and hair, cautious on both of their behalf. Blue eyes watched him with caution and pity...no, he knew better. Grief.   “I fucked up,” Ichigo said softly.   Grimmjow’s chin jerked to the side in a sharp shake of his head. “No.” Blood seeped from a torn and tattered lip, blooming red and dripping down his chin to stain his jacket. They stared at each other, Ichigo’s hands in Grimmjow’s, and neither could find the words to bridge that sudden gap.   Grimmjow knew, he knew, he fucking knew he was losing it. Ichigo thought it would be easier to hide than this...Well, he was wrong.   Blue eyes were narrowed to thin, thoughtful slits, watching him with the intensity he normally reserved for a fight.   Ichigo finally took stock of where they were standing. A lazy cricket song floated above waves of grass and wildflowers, rippling beneath a chilly night breeze. It dragged gentle fingers of sweat soaked skin, easing some of the fevered need that had taken root in his bones.   “So what was it?” Grimmjow finally asked. Ichigo stared back at him, unsure what he meant. “What set you off?”   Ichigo watched him, struggling to identify just what it was he was feeling. He was surprised when Zangetsu answered for him. “Desire.”   Taken aback, Grimmjow blinked, looking from Zangetsu, back to Ichigo. “You...” And he seemed to be at a loss for words.   Ichigo blushed, unsure what the next step was. He felt like something important had been dragged into the light. “I want you more than I thought. Enough to confuse with...other stuff.”   “You want me,” Grimmjow repeated.   Ichigo twisted in Zangetsu’s grip, but his grip was iron. “I’m fine,” Ichigo growled back at his hollow.   “King, you’re not. You barely understand yourself, let alone with all this bullshit. I’m doing you a favor.”   And he was, he already had. He’d been ready to eat Grimmjow alive, and that reality hit him like a truck. His exhale was heavy and full of pain. “I’m sorry.”   Grimmjow’s mouth twisted in disgust and annoyance, but it was directed elsewhere. He dropped his hand and reached for his face. His fingers traced his jaw, calloused and gentle. “Shut the fuck up. Just...shut up.”   He leaned in, and Ichigo’s breath caught in his throat when his lips hovered, so close, yet wouldn’t touch. The urge to fight his hollow to close the distance was strong, their breath humid between them. “Scared?” Ichigo asked, and then Grimmjow’s mouth were pressed to his, cooled blood slick on his lips. Blood full of la sangre, regret, and so much soul.   Their kiss grew frantic too quickly, hungry and biting, and Grimmjow pulled away. No, that was wrong. The hand on his hair was gone, Zangetsu had pushed Grimmjow back.   Voice rough, Grimmjow said, “I know I'm irresistible, but this is somethin’ else, Kurosaki.”   It was a stupid joke to cover up how shaken he was, the distress was visible on his face. Ichigo snorted a dry laugh. “It’s a lot to process.”   Lifting a hand to his lips, Ichigo smeared the blood from them, staring down at the streak of red on the side of his hand. La sangre swam over his skin, eagerly devouring the lifeblood of his conduit. Ichigo muttered a curse, swiping a hand over his face.   “I changed my mind,” Grimmjow said.   “What?”   “Use the kugeki, use something .”   “You hate it,” Ichigo said. He sank to the ground and Zangetsu followed him down, breath soft against the back of his neck.   Grimmjow grumbled, “Hate this too.” He reached up for his torn lip, wiping away the blood only to spit the rest into the grass. “Can't get a fucking break, can you, Kurosaki?”   A light scoff fell from Ichigo's lips. “Guess not.”   “Use it,” Grimmjow demanded.   “No.” It was easier to refuse than Ichigo thought it might be. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed, and Ichigo tried to elaborate. “Not for this.” The kugeki was a crutch, it wouldn't solve his problems, it would only sweep then under the rug. He'd tried that, time and time again, and it always came back to bite him.   Grimmjow canted his head, trying to read him, and said, “Fine. You're a quick study, you'll learn.” He stepped forward, then crouched before him, arms resting on his knees. “You wannit?”   “What?” Ichigo asked.   “Stupid question, koneko.”   Ichigo swallowed. It.   Oh .   Grimmjow's eyes slid to Zangetsu and he asked, “Can you hold him?”   “Hold me?” Ichigo echoed.   “Probably.”   Ichigo twisted to look back at his hollow and only succeeded in knocking horns with him. He made a sound of annoyance and didn't try to turn again. “Probably?”   Zangetsu’s voie was close to his ear. “Can’t hold you if the Gods cut me off from your reiryoku.”   Ichigo didn’t think he’d let that happen, but then, this was all new territory, he wasn’t sure how he’d react.   Grimmjow leaned forward, sliding a hand up over his knee, along the curve of his thigh, then stopped. That motion was controlled, deliberate, and demanded all of Ichigo’s attention. The warmth of Grimmjow’s hand seeped through his shihakusho, all too noticeable in the chill of night.   “We left Rukia,” Ichigo said. The excuse felt flimsy.   “ You left Rukia,” Grimmjow corrected. “She's a big girl, she'll be fine for awhile on her own.” He leaned in a little closer, his shoulders urging Ichigo’s knees apart.   Heart pounding, Ichigo tensed, uncertain. Zangetsu broke his loose chokehold and wrapped his arms around him from behind, pinning his arms in a tight bear hug. It should have been frightening, but he knew his hollow inside and out. His breath gusted over the back of his neck, the sharp edge of a horn resting against the side of his throat, and he felt safe, not trapped.   Struck by how absurd it all was, Ichigo started to laugh, a low, tired laugh. “Is this fucked?”   Grimmjow’s lips quirked up into a small smile. “Everything’s fucked, but for fuck’s sake, I’m gonna give you at least one thing you want.”   Ichigo couldn't find it in his heart to argue. He was selfish, but he wasn't blind either; Grimmjow wanted this too, God's be damned.   “I’d ask if this isn’t more effort than it's worth,” Ichigo said, “but I think I know the answer.”   “Yeah, stupid question,” Grimmjow said. He leaned in, pushing Ichigo’s knees further apart. “Strongest fucker alive wants me?” He reached for his chest, pressing his palm to his stomach, his shihakusho flattened under the heel of his hand. His fingertips brushed the edge of his hollow hole, the warm weight of his hand following the curve of hardened muscle. He muttered, “That’s a pretty big compliment.”   “Don't give me too much credit,” Ichigo said. “I've been selfish from the beginning. I'm nothing but bad news for you.”   “Che, I’m a hollow, Kurosaki, my whole existence is bad news. Ain’t got anything worth a damn besides Pantera and you.”   Something painfully pleasant clenched inside him at those words. “Didn't know you were such a sap.”   “Fuck you,” Grimmjow muttered, but it lacked heart. Weight settled on Ichigo's stomach and he leaned in for a careful, chaste kiss. His arrancar's other hand pressed into his inner thigh, pushing his legs apart and testing his reaction.   His breath felt tangled in his throat, never having let anyone touch him so much before. Not willingly. It was a lot to process, even frightening, but nothing about the arrancar between his legs was a threat. Not to him.   There was no Szayel, there was no Aizen, just Grimmjow. Grimmjow...whose hands were on him, whose lips were touching his, so soft. Grimmjow was his. This was his, didn’t he deserve something ? The Gods thought they could take this, but Grimmjow was his, the Gods were his, and they could fuck off. He deepened that kiss and Grimmjow let him, urging him to take the lead despite everything.   Stupid, fucking arrancar. What had he done to inspire so much trust?   Zangetsu murmured, “If you cry during sex, King, you’re never gonna live it down.”   Grimmjow pulled back to look at him and Ichigo hissed, “I’m not gonna cry .”   Grimmjow looked more curious than judgemental. “I know I’m new to this, but I couldn’t possibly be that bad.”   Ichigo rolled his eyes. “I was just thinking how stupid you are for indulging my bullshit when I want to eat you.” His tone fell into a low growl and the shift in Grimmjow was visible, his pupils blowing black in interest.   “I know some of that isn’t you,” Grimmjow said, “but some of it is.” He dropped his head, nose flush to the corded muscle of his throat, and Ichigo tensed, instincts prodding his urge to push back. It was a knee-jerk reaction bound in an interesting spike of lust.   Grimmjow mouthed his neck, laving his tongue over his skin in a wet stripe. He nipped, teeth not harming him through his hierro, but the sensation of sharp canines scraping his throat was enough to make him gasp.     “Maybe I should explain it to you?” Grimmjow murmured. His voice was low and layered with something Ichigo could only classify as aggression.   “I’m here cause I wanna be, and I hadn't given it much thought until I had you under me for once.” His hand slipped from his hand to his crotch, palm pressing down on the hardening bulge in his pants. He moved his hand, fingers sliding through the folds of his shihakusho. He squeezed, uncharacteristically gentle.   Ichigo let out a heavy breath, tightening his legs around Grimmjow's waist, jerking him closer and pinning him in place at the same time. “Couldn't tell how big you were before. Damn, Kurosaki.”   “Do you have to say that?”   “Why?” Grimmjow squeezed again, slightly harder, his fingers digging into the width of his arousal. “Embarrassed?”   “Shut up,” Ichigo muttered.   Grimmjow couldn’t move back, trapped between his legs, and he kept talking, massaging his crotch at an agonizingly slow pace. “I liked it.”   His breathing undone by every stroke of Grimmjow’s hand, Ichigo asked, “Liked what?”   “Having you between my legs, under me, with that fuckin’ look on your face.”   Grimmjow mouthed his throat, licking and sucking, and Ichigo finally let his head fall back onto Zangetsu's shoulder. The wrapped handle of his sword pressed into his ear, a dull ache that reminded him of just who was against his back, holding him tight. A pained exhale gusted over his throat, the teasing pressure of Grimmjow's teeth sliding along the underside of his jaw.   Ichigo dared to ask, “What look?”   “Like you wanted me,” he rumbled.   Fuck. And he did want him, in ways that weren’t always sane and weren’t always him. Ichigo twisted his hips up into his hand and whispered, “You don't know the half of it.”   Grimmjow hummed deep in his throat, sinking lower to his collarbone and nipped, hard enough he should have drawn blood. Ichigo found he was disappointed that he couldn’t. He wanted to hold him, sink his claws in and drink his soul from his blood––   “King, settle.”   Ichigo realized how hard he was fighting to escape, his arms tense within Zangetsu’s hold. Grimmjow hadn’t stopped rubbing him, the only difference was that he’d moved from his place at his throat to stare down at him. “You’re a fuckin’ handful, aren’t you?”   Brows creased, Ichigo panted and asked, “Was that a dick joke?” Grimmjow blinked, then laughed, flashing his teeth in a look of pure joy that made his heart clench in a weird way.   Ichigo grumbled, “Don’t laugh at me, you ass.”   Grimmjow’s laugh ended with a sigh and he leaned in to kiss him, hard and aggressive, his teeth scraping against his in a way that was far from comfortable or arousing, but sent a shock of need up his spine regardless. He pulled away before Ichigo could consider hurting him and Ichigo ran his tongue over his lips, tasting lingering traces of blood.   Keeping out of biting distance, Grimmjow said, “It wasn’t, consider the opportunity lost, but now I know where your head’s at.”   Ichigo flushed and argued, “You’re the one with your hand on my–” He snapped his mouth shut before he could finish that statement, choked up over a word with all new connotation.   Unfortunately, Grimmjow noticed, baring his teeth in a teasing smile. He squeezed, then pulled his hand away, a mischievous look in his eyes. “You want it, ask for it.”   Blush deepening, Ichigo expression twisted into one of outrage. “Ask? Touch me!” He tightened his legs around him, pinning him to his chest and knocking the air out of him with a whump. Grimmjow only laughed, shaking with it against his stomach. It felt weird when his foot was half in the back of his hollow holw, but it was overshadowed by annoyance, because laughter meant he lost.   Grimmjow’s cheek was pressed against his hollow hole, the hard edge of his mask depressing the edge, scraping as he spoke. “That’s not good enough, Kurosaki. Tell me exactly what you want.”   “Why?” Ichigo asked. He pulled Grimmjow so close, his lower stomach was flush to his groin, his weight hot and solid between his legs. He ignored the pulse of need and focused on Grimmjow’s instead, feeling his itching desire in his soul.   His arrancar’s voice was muffled against his chest. “Because, Kurosaki, I want to know what you want, I need to hear it from you.”   “Shit,” Kurosaki sighed, closing his eyes to the quilt of stars above him. He was oddly embarrassed over it. It was once thing to tease or joke, but another thing entirely to say something in context. Grimmjow deserved to know it was him, that it wasn’t just confusing mess of need and drive from the Gods that were hollowing him out.   Grimmjow let him think, addressing his hollow instead. “Oi, hollow, why didn’t this happen the first time, on the bed?”   “It did,” Zangetsu said.   “You weren’t supposed to tell him,” Ichigo complained.   He felt Grimmjow shift against him, his left hand reaching up, his thumb brushing the tender hollow of his throat. “I said no secrets. Why is it so hard for you to trust me?”   Ichigo didn’t want to look, he didn’t know what he’d see there. So he opened his eyes to the glitter of stars, a sigh falling from his lips. “I do trust you, Grimmjow.”   “Is that why you ran?”   “No...no I ran because I got scared. I didn’t lie to you.” He sagged against Zangetsu’s chest, his leg-lock around Grimmjow’s back loosening. “I thought I could handle it.”   “The rooftop too?”   “Probably...I didn’t realize how much it was affecting me.”   Seconds passed by in agonizing silence, and then Grimmjow sighed, exaggerated and loud. “Shit’s making me sad,” he groused. “So shut up.”   “Thought you wanted me to talk?” Ichigo teased.   “You know what I fuckin’ mean.” Grimmjow growled. He shifted against his chest again, his teeth finding the rim of his hollow hole. Ichigo arched, the sensation almost featherlight. He wanted more, that aching need the same as the first time with Grimmjow’s arm in his chest.   Lost in his own feelings over it, he wasn’t sure which impulses were his own, but he thought he knew what he wanted. “Bite me like you mean it,” he hissed.   Grimmjow looked up at him, eyes dark with lust and asked,  “Is that an order?”   Ichigo twisted to free his arms; he wanted to grab him, tear his claws into his bones and bite. He let out a heavy, frustrated exhale and snarled, “ Yes .”   Grimmjow’s fingers raked over his ribs and his teeth clamped down over flesh with violence reserved to kill. It wasn’t a love bite, it was a need to devour and consume. It never broke through his hierro but he felt it, the sensation of teeth and fangs biting to devour his soul in the same way he wanted Grimmjow.   Behind him, Zangetsu's hold loosened. His hands shot out to grab Grimmjow, but his hollow caught his wrists in both hands before he could. Grimmjow watched, assessing, and let go, licking the curve of his hollow hole with a look filled with challenge.   Bowing up into Grimmjow, Zangetsu moved from behind him to force him to his back in the grass, his hands pinned over his head. Ichigo writhed to get free and Zangetsu leaned forward, all of his weight on his wrists. He ducked down, hair spilling over his neck and chest in a curtain of white. His hollow pressed his forehead to his and Ichigo stilled, panting for breath he suddenly couldn't catch. “Easy, King, easy.”   He felt Grimmjow’s weight settle on his hips, his bony ass unmistakable for anyone else. He felt Grimmjow’s hands on his lower stomach, gentle at first, then tensing to grip his waist. He rolled his hips up, frustrated by the lack of contact. He groaned, sounding whinier than he wished he had. “I just wanna touch him.”   “I know, King,” Zangetsu murmured.   “S’okay, I’ll do enough for the both of us,” Grimmjow said. His hand wandered back to his crotch, his touch too gentle, too torturous. Bucking up into his hand, Grimmjow caught himself with a hand on his chest, and a hiss, “Say it, Kurosaki, I need to hear it.”   Ichigo grit his teeth, and Zangetsu leaned back, letting him look up at Grimmjow. The arrancar really was beautiful. A few moments with Ichigo’s hands in his hair had really messed him up. It was a wreck, falling into his face and complementing the red flush on his cheeks, his lip still swollen and bleeding. He was a fierce, wild thing, and for once he was willing to do whatever he wanted. Anything, and Ichigo was hung up over it like he’d fucking proposed.   Brows creased in impatience, it was what ultimately drove him to respond. Ichigo snarled, “Touch me! I want your hand on my dick, or better, your mouth. Okay?! I said it.”   Grimmjow looked surprised, like he hadn’t thought he’d say anything at all, but he recovered quickly enough, his mouth stretching into a wide smirk. “My mouth? Bold. You really want my teeth all over your dick that bad?”   Ichigo flushed, feeling like he was being called out. Zangetsu didn’t let that go unanswered, “Yeah, he does. Tease him over it any more and maybe I’ll let him maul you.”   Grimmjow’s smile wavered, uncertain if that threat was real. “I like hearin’ it. You’re a quiet fucker, Kurosaki.” His fingers tugged the tie on his shihakusho, loosening and unraveling the knot. The night air was cool on his lower stomach, tugging his wrists in Zangetsu’s grip, and it was all  blindingly real . Grimmjow was his, he already foolishly threw his life into Ichigo’s claws, but it wasn’t equal. Grimmjow didn’t have him back, his conduit got this tempered version of himself.   Ichigo hissed, “Wait! Wait…” Grimmjow paused, looking up at him in concern.   Letting his head fall back on the grass, Ichigo sighed and closed his eyes. The fuck did he want? He couldn’t even touch him, he wanted him, but this felt wrong. “I can’t do this, not like this. I can’t, I can’t…”   “Hey,” Grimmjow said. He leaned forward, reaching for his cheek. “Look at me.” His tone was hard, but his touch was gentle, even uncertain. Ichigo looked, and regretted it. Grimmjow looked sad, but there wasn’t any blame there, and Ichigo wished that there was. “If you don’t want this, that’s fine.”   Ichigo sighed, irritation making his teeth itch. “That’s not my problem. I want it, I want you, and if I can’t even touch you without hurting you, then…”   Grimmjow sighed, finishing the statement Ichigo couldn’t. “Then better not at all.” He looked away, something broken in his eyes and his heart, and Ichigo couldn’t place it. His chin fell in a sharp nod, like something he feared had been confirmed, and he got up off his lap.   The space Grimmjow had occupied felt cold, the lack of weight on his lap something he’d all too quickly grown to like. Grimmjow was walking away, he was just going to leave him there? Ichigo stared at his back with sudden fear. Zangetsu let him go, not about to stand in his way when he was so desperate to bridge this sudden gap. He stood and lunged, gripping his shoulder to spin the arrancar around to face him. “Don’t walk away from me!”   Grimmjow shouted right back. “Why not?! I’m never enough!”   “I don’t know what that means.”   “Don’t be stupid,” he hissed. “ I break , I’m not good enough for you, you just said it.”   Ichigo shouted, “You know that isn’t what I meant!”   “Isn’t it?”   Blinded with sudden rage, Ichigo gripped him by the jacket and hurled him into the ground. Grimmjow’s back  hit the ground with a grunt of pain, sliding back on dew soaked flowers.   Ichigo followed him down, his knees on either side of him. He lifted him up by the jacket just to slam him into the ground to punctuate his words. “I love you, you stupid asshole! By the very nature of what that means, you’re good enough. You’re more than good enough, so fucking wait, okay? Wait .” That sounded more desperate than he meant it to, but he was scared, and anger was always  easier than fear.   Grimmjow stared up at him in shock, but it didn’t last. His eyes narrowed again in rage. “I can’t even handle a kiss, Kurosaki. I’m weak.”   Baring his teeth, Ichigo hissed,  “No, you’re mine , Jaegerjaquez. Mine .”   Grimmjow paled at the shift in tone, a flicker of fear in his eyes. Ichigo grit his teeth through the urge to harm, feeling Zangetsu’s presence close beside him, preparing to intervene. Ichigo didn’t want him to, he wanted to stop himself. Trusting his instincts had always been so easy, but now that trust was betraying him. This was Grimmjow, he’d never consciously hurt him...or so he’d thought.   Repeating those words to himself in his head like a mantra, Ichigo let his hands fisted in Grimmjow’s jacket relax, smoothing over his chest to his neck. Grimmjow eased some beneath that touch, and Ichigo raised his hand to his cheek, to the unmasked side of his face. “Don’t leave because you think you aren’t good enough, leave because you hate me, despise that I want to hurt you, not that you’re too fragile. I’m sorry I’m like this.”   Grimmjow’s anger collapse in on itself, his brows drawing together in pain. “Don’t apologize to me, Kurosaki, not for this.”   Throat tight, Ichigo whispered, “But I am sorry.”   “Kurosaki...”   Tears blurred Grimmjow face, so he squeezed them shut and hissed, “Goddammit.” He didn’t want to cry, he hated it, especially when he felt he had less reason to than Grimmjow. He felt arms snake around his neck, dragging him down into an uncomfortable embrace.   Ichigo sobbed, Grimmjow’s hand in his hair and at his back holding him tight. He held him and he cried, angry that Grimmjow would leave like it was some sort of favor, angry at the Gods for eroding his soul, angry at his fucking hair, crushed uncomfortably between them, sticking to a cheek wet with tears, angry at his horns for being in the way.   He cried until he had no tears left, finding himself on his side, curled against Grimmjow’s chest. “Pretty pathetic,” he rasped.   “I ain’t tellin’,” Grimmjow said.   The arrancar’s fingers were still tangled in his hair, massaging his scalp like a cat might knead a blanket. It was oddly comforting to be tangled in his arms without judgement, or fear, or pain. Only heartache.   So self absorbed in his own  problems, it was easy to forget how badly he wanted to tear Grimmjow apart. That was sort of fucked, so he tried not to think about it.   Ichigo let out a long, slow breath, his eyes burning from tears he’d held back for too long. “I’m sorry I got you involved.”   “The fuck are you rambling about?” Grimmjow growled. His fingers stopped their careful kneading to fist in his hair, either in rage or admonishment, Ichigo couldn’t be sure.   “Everything. If I gave a damn about you, I’d have never forced you to be my fraccion, I’d have left you alone.”   “It’s not like you to have regrets,” Grimmjow said.   Ichigo scoffed lightly. “It’s not like me to trust either.”   “So why did you do it?” Grimmjow asked, curiosity lining his tone.   “You already know. You were familiar, resilient...and I missed you.”   The arrancar ‘s grip in his hair lessened, pulling it back from his face to tuck it behind his ear. His voice was soft. “You didn’t know me.”   “I didn’t,” Ichigo agreed. “I missed you anyway. I promised to fight you again, but I...the next time I saw you, you were dead.” He rolled to his back, dislodging Grimmjow’s grip, and looked up at the stars. “You keep telling me to be selfish, but I’ve been selfish from the beginning.”   Closing his eyes to the stars, Ichigo felt Grimmjow’s fingers brush his neck, tracing the underside of his jaw, almost as if he was testing that he could. The touch, no matter how gentle, set his nerves buzzing, his spine stiffening. Grimmjow said, “Does my opinion matter?”   Ichigo’s lips turned up into a tiny smile. “Maybe.”   “I hated you at first; you were strong, I didn’t even realize how strong, and you threw me around like you were toying  with me. Took me awhile to see it for what it was.”   “What do you mean?” Ichigo asked.   “Never really smiled much, but you smiled at me...respected me...fuck, I’m not gonna go on about this stupid shit, but,” he swiped his hand over his face, “I mattered to you for a long time, didn’t I? Even before you really trusted me.”   “I used you, I was desperate,” Ichigo said.   “Whatever,” Grimmjow grumbled. “You made me strong, but it’ll never be enough, will it?”   “Back to this,” Ichigo murmured.   “Yeah, can’t get away from it, Kurosaki.” Ichigo felt Grimmjow's head jerk in Zangetsu’s direction, his hollow hovering nearby in a crouch, waiting and watching, a silent guardian beside them. “He knows, I know, but you’re a stubborn idiot.”   “No,” Ichigo argued.   “I’m weak. Pisses me off, but I am.”   “Were you really going to leave?” Ichigo asked.   “Earlier? Tsk, no. Just pissed off.”   Ichigo knew better; he wasn’t angry, he was heartbroken, and playing it off as nothing. He twisted to face him, careful of his horns, and draped his arm over his stomach, his fingers grazing the edge of his hollow hole. Grimmjow’s breath hitched, and he lifted his arm, his arrancar’s hand curling around his throat. His palm was warm on  his throat, tightening when he swallowed.   “Can’t hurt you,” Grimmjow muttered, “no wonder you let me do that.”   Ichigo sucked in a breath through his teeth, his head rolling back like he might be able to see him. He couldn’t, all he succeeded in doing was baring his throat. “You think my instincts don’t remember what it was like to be weak, to be scared?” Grimmjow tried to pull his hand away, but Ichigo didn’t let him, covering his hand with his own. “It’s still frightening.”   “I couldn’t hurt you if I tried,” Grimmjow said.   “Maybe,” Ichigo said, “but my body doesn’t know that. I’m used to being hurt. Do you have any idea how frightening it is to have your teeth on my throat?” No answer, and he didn’t expect one. It wasn’t like he needed to tell Grimmjow what fear was like. “It’s terrifying. Knowing you won’t kill me, knowing you can’t, doesn’t mean much to that little bit of panic.”   “Then, why did you let me do it?” Grimmjow asked, his voice unreasonably quiet.   “Because I don’t want to be scared, not of you.”   Grimmjow scoffed lightly. “Can’t even hurt you, you shouldn’t be scared.”   “I’m trying to talk to you, you dick.”   Grimmjow sighed. “Yeah, I know.” His fingers slid across his neck, tensing into a claw, pressing up into the soft underside of his jaw. “This scares you?”   Ichigo swallowed and remained still. He knew Grimmjow wouldn’t hurt him, couldn’t, but his instincts still bristled in unease. Unease, but layered beneath a thrill. He could trust Grimmjow, he could finally let go, and he wanted to, so badly. “Yes.”   “Why tolerate it?”   “I said I was afraid...I never said that was all I felt.”   For a long moment, Grimmjow said nothing, and when he did, his tone was searching. “You like being vulnerable?”   Ichigo let out a breath, tilting his head to look at Grimmjow’s side. “Only to you.”   The arrancar stiffened under his hand and said, “Can’t say shit like that, Kurosaki.”   “Why?”   “Makes me want you.”   Oh...made sense. ”I’m sorry.”   “Stop apologizing,” Grimmjow growled.   “Then stop moping, I don’t know what else to say.” Grimmjow moved, rolling over to pin Ichigo beneath him. Ichigo looked up into sad, murky blue eyes and started, “I-”   Grimmjow’s thumb pressed to his lips, his expression wrinkling into pain. “Don’t you dare apologize to me again.”   Ichigo frowned up to him. “Then stop making that face.”   “There’s no face, you’re just stupid.”   Ichigo rolled his eyes, caught off guard when Grimmjow kissed him. It was slow, cautious, and Ichigo was careful to do nothing but react, never reaching, never taking. A need stirred in his chest, a pressing anxiety, but he didn’t indulge it. He focused on staying calm, on the velvet touch of wet lips. He started to breathe a little fast, and his arrancar broke that kiss with a soft exhale, his nose pressed to his cheek. “I know I shouldn’t whine at you, but fuck is it not fair. Fuckin’ Gods ruin everything.”   Ichigo reached for him, tangling his hands in his hair, and made every effort to relax. “Yeah, it isn’t fair. When is anything fair?”   “Should complain more, Kurosaki. It’s cathartic.”   Ichigo made an aggravated sound at the callback. “Fuck you.”   Grimmjow leaned back and snorted. “Pff, I wish.”   Ichigo stared at him, and Grimmjow stared back. Beneath the banter, his arrancar’s heart still ached. “You worry me, Grimmjow.”   Grimmjow's face scrunched into a snarl. “Worry about yourself, you crazy fuck.”   “Call me crazy and it'll hurt my feelings.”   “Fuck off, ya ain't that delicate.”   Ichigo smiled sadly and circled back. “Can't tell me not to worry, that’s not how that works.” The look on Grimmjow's face was all annoyance, but Ichigo wasn't fooled. There was more going on behind those eyes than Grimmjow would ever let on, but the glimpse Ichigo had into his soul only left him confused, so he guessed. “You’re bitter.”   “Wouldn’t you be?” Ichigo looked away and Grimmjow turned his chin back. “Not at you.”   Ichigo frowned up at him. “For now.” The sudden chime of his ringtone startled then both. Ichigo flinched, reaching to pull the phone from his kosode and  read the caller ID. “Kisuke?” It had been awhile since the scientist had reached out to him for anything, it was the last person he expected to hear from.   Answering on the last ring, Ichigo said, “Hey, Kisuke. Been awhile.”   “Indeed Kurosaki-san, although I'm not calling for myself. Hold for a moment.”   Ichigo heard the rustle of the phone changing hands, then a steady, baritone voice he hadn't heard in months. “Ichigo.”   Ichigo sat up, forcing Grimmjow's scowling ass back on his thighs. “Chad?”   “Can we talk? It's important.”   The tone he held was one reserved for business. He sounded happy to hear from him, but his voice was lined with uncharacteristic stress. Ichigo shot Grimmjow a look and said, “Yeah, give me a few minutes. I'll be there.”   They hung up, leaving Ichigo with an unresolved conversation, a heavy heart, and worry for his friend. Grimmjow looked at him expectantly, and Ichigo answered, “It sounded important.”   “We're done anyway,” Grimmjow growled. He climbed up off of him and Ichigo felt the irritation tightening his jaw.   Ichigo followed him up, tying his pants with a frustrated scowl and a stiff jerk of his wrist to tighten the knot. “We’re not.”   “Whatever.” Again with these stupid mood swings. Grimmjow’s heart ached, so he brushed it off with anger, his first instinct to isolate himself. Fuck that.   The arrancar still wouldn’t look at him. Ichigo grit his teeth and gripped his shoulder, spinning his conduit around to face him. He fisted his hands in his jacket, pushing them both through la sangre. He was tired of softness, of flowers.   He threw him back hard into a stone wall, crushing their lips together. Grimmjow’s hands found his waist, and Ichigo bristled, grabbing his wrists to pin them against the wall along with the rest of him. Ichigo’s voice was low against his lips, breath hot between them. “Don’t walk away from me if you don’t mean it.”   Grimmjow snarled, “I do that all the time.”   Ichigo dropped his voice and hissed, “So stop . Makes me want to hurt you.”   “You wanna hurt me anyway, so what?”   The ache in his jaw to bite was so strong, Ichigo swayed back. His teeth itched to sink into the soul before him, to smother his life and take it, keep it, consume it. He bit down on his forearm instead, squeezing his eyes shut to focus  on the thrum of life around him. This was Karakura. He knew these souls, he knew Grimmjow, so relax.   Ichigo wasn’t sure when he let Grimmjow go, but he felt his hands, tentative on his head. His arrancar pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around him to pull him into an awkward embrace against his chest. It was an intense, confusing desire, to want to relax and retaliate, all at once. His conduit was quiet, holding him for several moments before he dared to speak again. “You’re really holding back.”   Ichigo grunted in agreement, prying his own teeth from his arm with a grimace. “What was your first clue?”   Grimmjow fisted his hand in Ichigo’s hair and pulled, wrenching his head back to see his face. Eyes locked on his lips, Grimmjow spoke absently. “You drew blood.” Tempting fate, he dipped down to lick it from his lips. His tongue was warm, dragging a wet line along the curve of his lower lip, following it to the downward turn of his mouth.     “Stupid,” Ichigo hissed.   “Your chaperone isn't here,” Grimmjow said. As if that was permission enough to provoke. “You taste good, you know that?”   Ichigo made a chiding sound, tilting his head back and away as Grimmjow kissed and licked at the blood on his lips. “Doesn't mean much coming from a cannibal.”   Grimmjow growled back a word layered like an insult. “ God-eater .” Ichigo stiffened, turning his head away. Grimmjow let Ichigo put a stop to that kiss with a low laugh. “You taste pure, Kurosaki.”   “I don't know what that means. I ain't pure.”   Grimmjow smiled. “You're not. You taste like life, souls, power.” He tilted his head, debating stealing another kiss, so Ichigo braced a hand on Grimmjow's chest, physically holding back that thought. “Does it make you feel better to know I wanna eat you?”   “In a sexy way?” Ichigo asked.   Grimmjow scoffed, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, Kurosaki, that too.”   Ichigo thought about it. It felt fair, in a way; justified. “A little.”   “I’ll take it.” Grimmjow prompted changed the subject. “We in Karakura?”   Ichigo blinked, impressed he’d noticed where they were. He didn’t think Grimmjow was stupid, but the arrancar persistently surprised him. Distracted, frustrated, threatened, even aroused, and he was still acutely aware of his surroundings. It only made him more desirable. “Yes, Chad sounded concerned.”   “Yet you brought me here and kissed me.”   Ichigo narrowed his eyes, feeling defensive. “I did.”   “Why here?”   “Just wanted a reminder of what else I had to lose.” Of what tied him to humanity that seemed to slip further and further away. He ran his forearm across his mouth but he wasn’t sure what it solved. He looked back at Grimmjow. “I can’t show up on Kisuke’s doorstep bloody.”   “You have before.”   “Didn't have a choice.”   The arrancar lifted his thumb to his mouth and rubbed away any evidence, his fingers brushing his cheek when he was done, tracing the dark swath of the markings striping his face. “Could have just used la sangre.”   “Didn’t want to.”   “Why, just to make me do it?”   “Maybe,” Ichigo said.   “Lazy bitch.”   Ichigo gave him a dry look, taking a slight step back. It was hard to step away from something he wanted; From something the God's wanted. So much of that was due to user error. If he could focus on something else for half a second maybe he could separate that things he wanted from impulses that weren't his own, but these sensations were brand new, he had nothing to compare against, no memory of who he was for reference, and it bothered him.   What was a kiss even supposed to be like? He didn't think this was right, but it felt right.   Grimmjow pushed off the wall and took a purposeful step towards him. Ichigo took a step back.   That drew a thoughtful scowl across Grimmjow's face, throwing his hands into his pockets for lack of anything to do with them. “Relax, Kurosaki, I'm not doing anything.” And that was a damn shame.   Ichigo reached for him, and Grimmjow watched steadily as he raked his hand through his hair, pushing back loose strands and bringing some order back to the mess he'd made. Ichigo pulled a blade of grass and a crushed flower from blue locks and gave his handiwork a once over. “Good enough.”   Grimmjow raised a brow. “Just good enough? Savage.”   “ Very handsome. Feel better?”   The arrancar flashed his teeth in a smile. “Never called me handsome before.”   Ichigo was teasing, but it was true. Grimmjow had a rugged, sharp appeal he liked, but he wasn't going to give him any more of an ego over it. “Where’s my compliment?”   “I’m here, aren’t I?”   Grimmjow’s voice held the same teasing edge, but it was rooted in a heavy reality. He was still there, despite all his shit and problems; he fought him, talked back, argued and whined, and it was the biggest compliment he could get from Grimmjow. Words weren't their strong suit, but actions meant everything.   “We should go,” Ichigo said.   Something too stifling to be disappointment hung over them both. Ichigo didn't like knowing that despite Grimmjow standing less than a foot away, he was still somewhat out of reach.   It was a bone deep ache, a chasm of loneliness he couldn't seem to breach. No matter how hard he fought to free himself from it, he kept getting pushed further and further away. He knew Grimmjow felt it, he couldn't hide sadness like that from him, but neither had any idea how to fix it.   Fix, like some broken thing. The idea didn't sit well with him, not with Grimmjow's eyes locked on his own, so he looked away, and for that moment, Grimmjow pretended not to notice. He let him hide.   Ichigo held out a hand to Grimmjow and without hesitation, he took it. They could moan over semantics, but he intended to stay.   Pulling them both through la sangre and into Kisuke’s courtyard, Ichigo dropped Grimmjow's hand. The arrancar took up a familiar spot beside him, just to his left. It was a both a thoughtful and cautious place to stand; it left Ichigo open to draw without gutting him and kept him in his peripheral.   Chad followed Kisuke from the shop, and while seeing Chad was something frequent, he hadn’t seen Kisuke since the night he’d woken up, stuck like this. Kisuke’s eyes raked over him, appraising, then flicked to Grimmjow. The shopkeeper saw a lot, Ichigo couldn’t be sure what he guessed, but he didn’t think he or Grimmjow were good enough liars to hide from him; Kisuke was merely kind enough to pretend he didn’t notice. “Looking good, Kurosaki-san.”   Ichigo scoffed. “Don’t lie to my face.”   “Tsk, I lie to you all the time,” Kisuke said.   “Yeah, but at least try .” Ichigo looked away from Kisuke to Chad, offering his friend a stiff smile. “I wish I was here under better circumstances.”   The smile Chad gave him was wide, stepping up to him to put a hand on his shoulder. “The circumstances could be better, but it’s always good to see you, Ichigo.” His hand was warm and heavy on his shoulder, oddly comforting,  when normally he shied away from touch. He didn’t feel the urge to devour his friend, not by the spurring of any God.   With his attention focused so intensely on his own reactions, it honestly surprised him the urge wasn't there. It was an odd feeling. Chad wasn't a conduit, but something about him was noticeably displaced from the world he stood in, and  he’d never noticed before.   Grimmjow noticed his quick acceptance of Chad's touch, the change in him was nearly instantaneous. He wouldn’t have ever pegged the arrancar as jealous, but that wound was still too raw and his jealousy was tempered by Alteza.   Grimmjow moved, but Ichigo was faster, always faster.   Before Grimmjow could get his hands around Chad’s neck, Ichigo had them both at far end of the courtyard, throwing Grimmjow face down into the ground. He twisted one arm firmly between Grimmjow’s shoulders, his foot grinding his half drawn blade into concrete.   Snarling like a trapped animal, Grimmjow screamed obscenities and insults, fixating his rage on Chad, but he wasn’t the source, just an easy target.   Chad looked as surprised as Kisuke, the shopkeeper looking between the three of them with raised brows, before admitting, “I feel like I’ve missed something.”   It was hard to hear his voice over the racket Grimmjow was making, but Ichigo worked it out. “It’s complicated,” Ichigo called back.   Despite knowing exactly what was going through Grimmjow’s mind, Ichigo was pissed off too. He reminded himself it wasn’t entirely Grimmjow’s fault, but the desire to hurt him, punish him , was still present. He raised a hand to someone he cared for, and regardless of the reason why, it made him angry.   Leaning down, Ichigo hissed, “ Cease , or so help me, Grimmjow, I will shatter your arm.”   To his credit, Grimmjow stopped squirming to free himself and snarled his insults at him instead. “Go fuck yourself.”   Ichigo leaned down even closer, pressing his knee between his shoulder blades and leaned in so close his breath tickled the nape of his neck. Curse the Gods, he wanted to bite him, dig trenches in the muscles bunched beneath him in rage. He hissed, “Just because I can stop you doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you raising a hand to the people I care about. Do it again, and I will hurt you.”   For a few seconds, Grimmjow just breathed, his lungs struggling to expand under his weight. “He-”   “I don’t give a shit what your excuses are. This is your only warning.”   Grimmjow sagged into the pavement, the sharp edge of defeat ringing in his soul. Grimmjow felt he’d lost more than a  fight, and Ichigo couldn’t be sure how to fix it.   Climbing up off his arrancar, Zangetsu muttered, “What a fuckin’ mess.”   Ichigo climbed up off of him and let him stand, humiliation shadowing the arrancar’s eyes. Ichigo couldn’t fix that with an apology or some words, Grimmjow’s access to his soul had fucked up any hope of that. One little touch was enough to rub in his face the things he couldn't have. And Ichigo had nothing more to say.   Turning back to Chad, Ichigo crossed back over to him, Grimmjow trailing behind him like a scorned cat.   Chad started, “I didn’t mean to offend-”   “You didn’t do anything,” Ichigo cut him off. “Just forget about it.” That wasn’t going to happen, but he wasn’t going to drag all his problems into the light with an audience. The wary look Kisuke was giving him was bad enough.   Filing away the knowledge he’d just gained, Ichigo asked, “What did you ask me here for?”   Cursing how accusatory he sounded, Chad pretended not to notice, and if his feelings were hurt, he didn’t show it. “I met some people recently. People like me.”   Ichigo blinked at him, trying to reason what that meant. Grimmjow grumbled, “Big and tall?”   Chad elaborated. “Fullbringers.”   Ichigo’s eyes widened in understanding. He didn’t know the word, but it carried with it a mountain of implications. “Fullbringers? There are others like you?”   A small smile graced Chad’s face, something he tried to hide and failed. “Yes.” Ichigo recognized that look, he’d felt the same fluttering feeling of kinship before. It was nice to know you weren’t alone; he missed that feeling. But he’d killed his predecessors, that feeling wasn’t for him.   Chad shook his head and changed the subject. “But I didn't ask you here to talk about me. They’ve noticed something, and I think it’s best that you talk to them personally.”   “Noticed something?”   “They can explain it better than I can. I didn’t see it, but it involves the shinigami.”   Ichigo’s interest piqued. “Elaborate.”   The glance Chad shared with Kisuke was proof enough they had already spoken, and if Kisuke was silent, then he’d confronted something he had little expertise about. Ichigo tried not to jump to conclusions, but his gut told him this was far from coincidence.   Chad said, “A Fullbringer saw a shinigami...killed, but they can't be sure what killed him.”   Ichigo stilled, his stomach churning in concern. “When?”   “Yesterday.”   That couldn't be right. Ichigo cast out his senses, delving into Sunyaya’s power with little regard for consequence. Any rage or anxiety he felt was sapped away by the cold indifference of entropy. Ichigo turned his thoughts inwards. ‘I didn't sense death, how is that possible?’ Eyes unfocused on the souls burning at the edge of his consciousness, he noticed there were less .   His shinigami were being hunted.   In his arrogance he thought he would feel a threat, and he’d been wrong. Instead, he'd been distracted, looking in the wrong place; he should have considered a thing that knew his name, knew him , might hunt in the city he once called home.   “Do not blame yourself for this, Ichigo.”   ‘He slipped beneath my notice. The signs were there, I’m just stupid.’   “This is an unknown threat, Ichigo, and a delicate game with rules we don’t yet understand. This was a misstep, learn from it. This is knowledge you didn’t have before. Use it.”   Ossan was right. This thing was lying low, which meant it was weak. Not so weak it wouldn’t gloat to his face, but it   couldn’t challenge him yet, it was hunting stragglers, coasting beneath his notice.   Someone called his name, he wasn't sure who, but when he refocused before him, he noticed both Chad and Kisuke were a few paces back, and Grimmjow was almost directly before him, stepping into sight. Disagreement or not, Ichigo appreciated the gesture. Chad and Kisuke were afraid, putting himself between them was a bit of a diffuser. Grimmjow asked, “What do you sense?”   “It’s what I didn’t sense. Their souls are gone, I didn’t feel them die, and I don’t feel their death.” His voice sounded flat, even to him. Sunyata fucked his emotions, he knew that, but what he was feeling wasn't rage, it was too cold.   Sunyata was paying attention; it Looked through him, and now it was a part of his hunt. It couldn't have Grimmjow, it couldn't have the Gotei 13, but it could reject this , this threat .   The worry in his arrancar tripled, and despite his posture and expression remaining the same, Ichigo saw a look  in his eyes he’d once thought was pity. Grimmjow asked, “You in there, Kurosaki?”   “Mostly.” The knee-jerk reaction to eliminate this threat only intensified, and he knew that wasn’t him. He shoved at Sunyata, but it clung to the core of his soul like taffy, and there was no true alternative. The Gods were restless; there was a wolf among their flock and its teeth were soaked with blood.   Ichigo raised a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “They’re...needy.” Even with Sunyata at his fingertips, Alteza howled and die Konigin screamed. For once, amongst all the chaos, the Gods shared a target, and it was nauseating.   Kisuke spoke, “What set them off.”   Ichigo rubbed his temple. “Knowledge. The thing hunting the shinigami is a threat, to all of them, but their awareness is limited to my own.”   Ichigo turned the subject away from him, uninterested in lingering on things he couldn't change. “These Fullbringers have powers like yours?”   “Yes,” Chad answered.   “Good, then they’ll be easy to find.”   Kisuke straightened, curious. “You’re notoriously bad at finding people, Kurosaki-san. Would you mind elaborating?”   Eyes slipping to Grimmjow, Ichigo chose his words carefully. “The Gods aren’t interested in Chad, I never noticed before, because I never thought to look.” He tilted his head. “That’s not true. Out of respect to you, I never tried to reach deeper in your soul.   Chad’s brows raised. “What do you mean, Interested?”   “You’re different,” Ichigo said. “You’re not a child of die Konigin, Sunyata, or even Alteza...I admit I never gave it much thought. You power is hollowlike in nature, but ultimately, it exists outside of my control. I’m not sure what you are.”   Kisuke looked offended, and much more infested in the conversation than Chad. He eyed the fullbringer with a sharp light he often reserved for mischief. “And you never told me?”   Uncertain under this new attention, Chad fidgeted, and took a step away from the shopkeeper, asking Ichigo. “What does that mean for me?”   Ichigo paused and admitted, “I really don’t know, Chad.  I might have more of an answer if I meet other fullbringers.” The tension in the giant’s shoulders led Ichigo to realize the source of Chad’s concern.   Chad had always had faith in him, but this version of himself, influenced by power forced onto him, he didn’t trust. If Sunyata wasn’t hanging around him so thickly the air shimmered like crystal, he might have felt bad about it. But he felt nothing. “I won’t hurt them.”   Chad nodded, but it was hesitant, unconvinced.   “Thanks for asking me here, Chad.” It wasn't a calculated risk, his friend wasn't like that. Chad was involving him out of respect for their friendship, nothing more and nothing less.   Ichigo dragged him and Grimmjow away through la sangre, pulling Rukia to him in the process, regardless of what she was doing. They stood now in a residential district in an alley, Rukia mid bite through instant noodles. She paused, disoriented, found Ichigo’s gaze, and shouted, “You left me!”   “We were busy!” Grimmjow snapped.   “I was bored!” She blinked, her annoyance crumbling as she took in Ichigo’s expression. “What happened?”   Ichigo sighed. “Eat your noodles, I’ll catch you up to speed.”   --- xxx ---   Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez Blue eyes scanned the rooftops, empty streets, and saw no one, sensing nothing but the dusty hum of unfamiliar reiatsu. “Someone’s watching us,” Grimmjow rumbled.   “Very astute,” Kurosaki said blithely.   Grimmjow swiveled to face him. “Don’t you care?”   “It’s annoying, but if it makes them feel better…” Kurosaki shrugged it off, his attention still locked elsewhere, on ungrateful fuckin’ shinigami, with a godlike level of surveillance that required him to use Sunyata. That fucking bitch of a God that flatlined everything about Kurosaki he loved.   He hated it, and Kurosaki knew it, so the demigod wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t acknowledge the soft breaking of a fresh promise. Rukia didn’t notice their tension, she was focused on other issues. She had eaten her noodles with distracted perseverance, and now she sat, scrunched up on the curb in thought. “Did you call me here to watch me?”   Without moving from his spot against the wall, Kurosaki’s eyes slid to her, brows creasing. “I might have.”   “You’re worried.”   “...Yeah.” Kurosaki folded his arms, a weird mannerism, given how much it restricted movement. This wasn’t a nervous or defensive gesture, he was holding back.   The hybrid felt guilty, that’s for fuckin’ sure, and Grimmjow wasn’t sure how to change his mind. Did it hurt that Kurosaki's friend happened to be one of the people he didn't want to devour? Did it feel unfair that he couldn’t be that person? Hell yes it did. But he'd carry on anyway.   He stared long enough that Kurosaki began to notice. The hybrid’s eyes fell to his lips, brows creasing in distress, even with his shallow grip on Sunyata.   Grimmjow was seconds away from saying something when a man strolled up to them from the end of the street. He wasn’t a soul, and he wasn’t some random human. He could see them, that was certain, but whatever power he had was masked. Black hair was slicked back from his face, but some strands had come free, falling into his face in a look that reminded him too much of Aizen. He already hated him.   The man walked from a cloud of warm afternoon light into shadow and stopped. A band of light cut between the buildings and obscured the man from his night sight, but that wouldn’t bother Kurosaki, and Grimmjow bitterly hoped this stranger didn’t know that. He was still pissed and resentful and if he couldn’t take it out on Kurosaki’s friend, he’d take it out on this stranger.   The man called out. “Are you Kurosaki Ichigo?”   Kurosaki made a sound of agreement, but didn't leave his place against the wall. Rukia straightened and called back. “Who's asking?”   The man shifted his weight, his feet square beneath his shoulders. Rukia tensed along with Grimmjow, both anticipating a fight. The man didn’t answer their question. “Thought Kurosaki Ichigo was a substitute shinigami. You look like an arrancar.”   Grimmjow tightened his hands into fists. “And you look like a prick.”   “Wasn’t talking to you, arrancar .”   The insult layered in that word pissed Grimmjow off. “Answer,” he called back.   The man was silent, and Rukia slowly lifted her hand to rest on the hilt of her sword. The man smiled, flashing white teeth and raised his hands, the picture of nonchalant innocence. “No need for violence.” He let his arms fall, his center of gravity still poised to defend or attack, it could go either way. “Call me Kugo.”   Rukia’s brows furrowed in recognition, her hand tightening on the hilt. Kurosaki separated himself from the wall and reminded her. “We’re not here to fight, Rukia.”   “I’m not going to talk to her,” Kugo said.   “Why not?” Kurosaki asked.   “Don’t like shinigami,” Kugo responded. His tone was light, but there was a weight in his words Grimmjow could pinpoint and recognize. He honestly felt the same way, which only served to piss him off. Seemed shinigami weren’t much liked by anyone.   Kurosaki took a couple of steps to stand beside Rukia, reaching for her shoulder. Grimmjow half expected her to jump at his touch, but she eased into it, brows drawn tight into feigned annoyance. Her hand fled the hilt like she’d been caught and she let out a tense breath in a rush. “Fine, but I’m only moving out of earshot.”   Kurosaki’s hand briefly rested on her shoulder, then he stepped around her. “Thanks, Rukia.” He dropped his voice, but Grimmjow could still hear. “Sorry this is such a mess.”   Rukia glanced to Grimmjow, of all people, bit her lip and hissed, “Fool.” In a blur of shunpo, she was safely out of earshot, directly on the building above them.   “Him too,” Kugo said, jerking his head towards Rukia’s new perch. Grimmjow ground his teeth, taking that to be even more of an insult than it was probably meant to be. All these barriers between him and what he wanted, and this asshole was going to add one more?   “No,” said Kurosaki. “He stays.”   Grimmjow looked to him in surprise. All it cost him for this conversation was a sliver of Grimmjow’s pride, but he wasn’t willing to concede, no matter how foolish it might be. It felt good to be chosen, even over something trite.   Kugo’s was voice thick with derision. “I don’t care much for arrancar either, you see.”   “I don’t give a damn,” Kurosaki said. “It isn’t up for negotiation.”   “Then maybe our meeting was premature.” Kugo reached for his neck, and from the metallic glint, he was fingering a necklace. “Maybe a few more shinigami need to die.”   Kurosaki’s shoulders tightened at the threat, his voice low enough Grimmjow knew Kugo would need to strain to hear it. “I’ve been polite, Kugo, more than I think you deserve out of respect for Chad, but I’m in no mood for threats. Do you want to talk, or not?”   Grimmjow couldn't make out Kugo's expression, but he hoped he was annoyed. The man finally shrugged and asked, “What do you know about fullbringers?”   “Assume I know nothing,” Kurosaki said.   The man twisted his necklace in his fingers, dropped it, then crossed through the band of light to stand at a more reasonable speaking distance. He wasn’t close, but he didn’t look like he trusted them worth a damn either. The man explained, “There’s a soul in all things, fullbringers can manipulate the soul that resides in physical matter.”   Kurosaki seemed unsettled by that information. The hybrid didn’t let it show, but Grimmjow felt the twist of surprise.   Grimmjow asked, “So what the fuck does that have to do with a shinigami dyin’ on your turf?”   Dark eyes slid to him, not altogether fond of acknowledging him. “The way he died is relevant.”   “Explain,” Kurosaki said.   “Should I?” Of course the fucker wouldn’t give it to them for free.   “What do you want?” Kurosaki demanded. Grimmjow looked at him, wondering if he couldn't just take what he wanted, or if he was making an effort not to. Sometimes it was hard to tell.   “Just confirmation.” The man tried to keep the interest from his voice, but he failed. “Was Seireitei destroyed?”   After a moment to contemplate the truth, Kurosaki said, “It’s gone.   Sharp satisfaction sharpened the stranger’s features, a small smile quirking his lips in sadistic glee that could only come from someone seeking vengeance. Grimmjow knew that smile, it burned like acid in his gut when he’d first seen the damage done. “They say you did it,” Kugo said.   “They?” Kurosaki asked.   “Shinigami. The damage done to Karakura turned some heads. So did you do it?”   “No.”   Kugo’s intensity burned off at that answer, asking, “Where’s the guy that did it?”   Grimmjow growled, “It ain’t an interrogation.”   Foiling his desire to give this asshole nothing, Kurosaki answered, “I killed him.”   Kugo shrugged. “That’s a pity. Would’a been nice to meet face to face.”   Kurosaki took a step forward, and to Grimmjow’s satisfaction, Kugo took a small step back. Kurosaki’s voice was calm, steady, but Grimmjow heard the undercurrent of violence just as much as Kugo. “Now isn’t a good time. I don’t know what you want from me, but you’re not going to find it. Talk, or I’m leaving.”   Kugo pushed his hair back from his face and turned to walk away. “Take it down a notch, I ain't interested in a fight.”   “Where the fuck you goin’?” Grimmjow snapped.   Kugo paused, looking back. “Relax. Thought you'd wanna see the body.”   “You kept the body?” Kurosaki asked.   “What was I supposed to do, leave him in the street?”   Grimmjow didn’t think his so called charity had anything to do with goodwill, but at the moment he had no reason to fear him. Kugo moved away again and Kurosaki followed, throwing a gesture to ‘stay put’ up at Rukia. Grimmjow was surprised that Kugo turned his back to them when he was already so cautious, but the feeling of being watched hadn't dissipated, so it wasn't a stretch to think someone was watching his back for him.   The man led them only a single street over, to a building that seemed from the outside to be abandoned. He took out a small black card, swiping it in on a keypad by a thick steel door. There was a soft mechanical click and he swung open the door into a dimly lit room.   He stepped in, gesturing for them to go ahead. Kurosaki didn't hesitate, but he had absolutely nothing to fear from these people. It went against Grimmjow's nature to blindly follow a potential threat directly into their shitty lair, but his pride didn't let him reconsider following.   It seemed like some sort of bar or lounge, populated by a stoic, older bartender, and what looked to be a kid hunched over a game. Neither felt particularly powerful, but Grimmjow kept his guard up anyway.   The kid didn't even look up from his game and the bartender carried on as if they weren't even there. Rude, to be so confident they wouldn't even acknowledge strangers.   “Nice clubhouse,” Grimmjow muttered. “I half expected a 'no shinigami allowed’ sign.”   Kugo gave him a sour look, but it was the kid that spoke. “Your sense of humor is just as bad as your style.”   “What was that?” Grimmjow snapped.   “You're not even wearing a shirt,”  Kugo said.   Kurosaki grabbed his arm before he could cero his smug fucking face and said, “Just take us to the body.”   Kugo’ eyes went from Grimmjow’s hand, to Kurosaki, and said, “If you break my bar, you buy it.”   “Good luck collecting payment,” Kurosaki said dryly.   Kugo's brows shot up. “So you do have a personality.”   The look Kurosaki shot Kugo was nothing but pissed, but Grimmjow knew that remark struck a little too close to the mark. The arrancar said, “You heard him, show him the body, or I’m gonna start breaking shit.”   “Control your arrancar,” Kugo said, tone dropping in condescension.   Kurosaki let go of Grimmjow’s wrist, which was more of a statement than if he’d spoken. “He’s not a pet,” he said, yet the look he shot Grimmjow was weary. Fine, he wouldn’t cero the bar. He’d wait until they got what they needed.   The fullbringer voiced his disapproval with a hiss of air sucked between clenched teeth. He turned to cross to the back of the bar without any further preamble, and Kurosaki followed closely behind him.   They were brought to a back room, the shinigami laying across two tables that had been shoved together. Grimmjow didn’t know him, but from the subtle tension in Kurosaki, the hybrid did. There was no panic in his heart, this wasn’t a lost friend, but he did recognize him.   There wasn’t a mark on the shinigami; it just seemed he was asleep, but he was too still, too silent. It creeped Grimmjow out.   Kurosaki stepped up to the table, reaching out to touch the shinigami on the arm.  It might seem like a tender gesture from the outside, but Grimmjow knew better, it was as calculated as they came, and Kurosaki’s emotions were far from reach.   Without removing his hand, Kurosaki frowned to Kugo. “He’s alive.”   Kugo frowned back, just as confused as Grimmjow was by that statement. “I think I know a dead body when I see it.”   “Look at him,” Kurosaki insisted. “This is wrong.”   “I see a dead body,” Kugo reiterated.   The hybrid frowned down at the shinigami, his grip on his wrist tightening. His voice was soft enough that Grimmjow didn’t think Kugo could hear him from the door. “You don’t see…”   Sensing the heightening doubt in the hybrid, Grimmjow was worried he was on the edge of mania. He offered, “Creeps me the fuck out, but I dunno why.”   “His soul is gone,” Kurosaki said. “This isn’t supposed to happen.” He dropped his hand, and looked back to Kugo. “This is what you wanted me to see?”   “Apparently. A fullbringer manipulates soul, it’s in everything; people are the obvious offenders, but soul is in the ground, this building, the air...The area he was found was devoid of soul. It was barren. Whatever killed him did something I’ve never seen before.”   Kurosaki watched Kugo strangely, a shock of cold fear in the hybrid’s heart startling Grimmjow. Kurosaki was afraid? Grimmjow sensed he knew more than he was letting on, but he didn’t trust Kugo, not by a long shot. “Show me a fullbring,”  Kurosaki demanded.   Kugo’s suspicion skyrocketed at the demand. He tensed, shifting his weight defensively, and said, “You’ve seen Chad’s, many times. Why mine?”   “I’ve only seen Chad’s,”  Kurosaki said, “I need to see another.”   “If I refuse?”   Grimmjow expected violence, but it was still a shock to blink, and find Kurosaki was across the room, slamming Kugo into the wall. The drywall cracked under he weight, a long, double edged sword suddenly barred between them, held to Kurosaki’s throat.   The hybrid was still afraid, but it had nothing to do with Kugo. Removing his hand from the fullbringer’s chest, Kurosaki ignored the sword at his neck and stepped back. “I have what I need. I’m taking the body.” It wasn’t a request, and enemy or no, Kurosaki usually left the illusion of choice. For some reason that mentality didn’t extend to this situation. Grimmjow had to wonder why.   Kugo’s skin shone with nervous sweat, letting go of  a stilted exhaled as he straightened from the wall. The two fullbringers beyond the door had stopped moving, all of their attention on Kurosaki.   In an attempt to swing back control, Kugo snapped, “Take him. As if I need a body rotting in my bar.”   Kurosaki stared at Kugo with such intensity and stillness, the fullbringer began to fidget. Not even Grimmjow could read the thoughts behind those eyes, and he remembered how deeply unsettling it was to be the center of such focus.   For Grimmjow, it was a pleasant thrill to have the full attention of someone he desperately loved, be it negative or not. But for a stranger, they might not know if they were going to make it out from beneath that gaze alive.   Whatever Kurosaki was looking for, he either found it, or gave up, because he turned to the body on the table. Kugo visibly relaxed, his brows drawn tight. Dark eyes lingered on vulnerabilities, and while the fullbringer couldn't harm Kurosaki, it pissed off Grimmjow enough that he stepped between them.   Instead of sending the body through la sangre, Kurosaki bent and picked him up, bridal style. Something about that struck a chord of deep sadness in the hybrid, but he buried it well. He turned and warned, “I'll be back, Kugo.”   “I'm not looking forward to it,” Kugo said.   In a curtain of dark, they were suddenly standing at the top of the same building they'd left Rukia on. She immediately stood, then her eyes fell to the shinigami in his arms. Her jaw tightened, filling in the blanks with information and preconceptions even Grimmjow didn’t think he had.   “Kugo didn't kill him.” Kurosaki felt the urge to defend Kugo, and Grimmjow couldn't fathom why.   “Not this time,” she said. There was an accusation there steeped in distaste.   “You know him?” Kurosaki asked.   “He killed shinigami, he stole their powers.”   “Like I stole yours,” Kurosaki answered bitterly.   She flinched, and Grimmjow felt he was missing some history.   “Stop talking over my head,” Grimmjow growled.   “There's nothing to tell,” Kurosaki said. “I don't trust the word of Seireitei.” His eyes fell to Rukia. “And neither should you.”   “It won't be a problem,” Rukia answered, voice clipped. “Seireitei is gone.”   “Their secrets and lies aren't,” Kurosaki said. He sounded annoyed, even watered down by Sunyata. Before Rukia could start an argument, he said, “I’m sending you back to Soul Society.” The tone of his voice was a touch different, he wasn’t talking to her as a friend, but something else.   Setting the shinigami down on the ground, Kurosaki's eyes lingered on the body, unsettled. “I’d bring him back myself, but I don't want to leave my family unprotected.”   Whatever argument Rukia had been preparing died in her throat, real concern darkening her expression. “You think they're at risk?” Which explained why he would send Rukia away. She was his friend, but his family always came first.   Kurosaki said, “It was naive to think they wouldn't be. My father is strong, but this is something else entirely.”   Rukia looked down at the shinigami and let out a slow breath, her demeanor shifting ever so slightly. Her shoulders squared and she looked back to Kurosaki. “What do I tell the Soutaichou? How did he die?”   Kurosaki was quiet, and not for a lack of an answer. He was hiding something from them, he was choosing his words carefully. A terrible liar, bit it was still a lie. He said, “Inoue was killed outside of this world, outside all of them. She's never coming back.” His gaze fell on the shinigami. “Neither is he.”   “But he was killed here, in Karakura.”   “And the result is the same. He doesn't exist, this body is like a ghost. An empty imprint.”   Understanding hit Grimmjow and Rukia at the same time. This thing was beyond dangerous. If getting caught by this thing meant true death, no reincarnation, no afterlife, just poof...it was no wonder Kurosaki was refusing to leave Karakura. A dead shinigami on his doorstep was as good as a threat.   Now Grimmjow understood Kurosaki’s dissociation. This could have been a friend, a sister, a father. The hybrid wasn’t just annoyed, he was fucking pissed. But he was also scared.   Called itself Shinigami...for the first time, grimmjow thought he might fear death. A sudden stop, one that could come anytime, from anywhere. This thing could move from Soul Society to Living World. That must mean it could move to Hueco Mundo as well. No one was safe.   “You still can't track this fucker?” Grimmjow asked.   The look Kurosaki gave him said it all, Sunyata or not. “I can’t sense anything.” Which meant the Fullbringers  were their best shot.   Kurosaki turned to Rukia and asked, “Ready?”   Some of her mask slipped and she gave him a look full of support and concern. It was a look Grimmjow had only been on the receiving end once in this life, and he finally understood the desperation people would go to to have it. She said, “Good luck, Ichigo. Be careful.”   His expression softened, even if he didn’t manage a smile. “I’ll try.” The light bent and shimmered in a beautiful kaleidoscope of color, and they were sent away, off to Soul Society.   “I hate being ignorant,” Kurosaki muttered.   “What weren’t you teling Kugo?”  Grimmjow amended that statement. “What aren’t you telling me ?”   Kurosaki scoffed, “Kind of ruins a secret if I tell you, doesn’t it?” Grimmjow opened his mouth to argue, but Kurosaki cut him off. “I wish I didn’t know, I won’t burden you with it too.” From his tone, it wasn’t a topic he was willing to indulge or argue.   The hybrid turned to face him, his face falling in distress now that they were alone. “I’m being used.” He bared his teeth in a need for violence so strong, Grimmjow took a step back. “I hate being manipulated.”   “Kurosaki…” Grimmjow didn’t really know what to say. He hated it too, but he wasn’t sure what to do about this. He was delegated to standing there, a useless prop. He couldn’t barely even touch Kurosaki, his presence was just hollow comfort at best. Kurosaki let go of Sunyata, seizing die Konigin. He saw the flare in his eyes, he heard the screams through the reverberation in Kurosaki’s soul. Letting out a slow, calming breath, Kurosaki spoke, his voice on unsteady ground. “I’m scared for my family. It knows me, it knows I’ll protect them. It picked off stranglers I wouldn’t notice, then came straight here, straight to Karakura. It’s getting what it wants; unprotected prey.” Panic slipped into his voice unbidden. “I can’t protect everyone, I can’t.”   Grimmjow reached for him without thought, gripping his hair in his hands. “ Hey .” He got his attention, golden eyes locked on his own. Kurosaki looked at him. Not through him, beyond or between. He looked. “You could never protect everyone, that’s not on you. You try , Kurosaki, more than you fuckin’ should. You know how I feel about it, I don’t think you owe them shit, who cares what you are? It ain’t your responsibility. Your responsibility is to yourself.”   “I have the ability to help, I should–”   “Says who?”   “No one else will do it. No one else can.”   “Arrogant,” Grimmjow hissed, his hands tightening in Kurosaki’s hair.   Kurosaki smiled at the insult, a self deprecating smile. “Yeah...arrogant.”   Grimmjow was struck with the thought that he should say something. He loved him, through and through, but saying it was so hard. So he said nothing, but he didn't think he had to. Kurosaki knew now. Untwining his hands from his hair, Grimmjow rested his palm against the side of Kurosaki’s neck. So tense, so anxious, so fearful. Someone so strong should be above that, yet he felt it more than ever. What a fucking idiot. Grimmjow said, “You gonna bring that Kugo bastard to us?”   Kurosaki smiled. “How did you know?”   “You’re in a mood.”   The smile that lit up his face was off, teetering too closely to violence. “Yeah,” he said, “I think I am.”   He yanked Kugo through die Konigin with no regard to consequence. Kugo staggered, doubling over to rest his palms on his knees. Grimmjow took a swift step back right as he threw up. He had the forethought to catch his necklace before he puked on it, but he wasn’t gonna be in good shape for awhile.   Kurosaki pat his back, and it was far from friendly. “It’ll pass. I have some questions for you, Kugo.”    

With clarity Clark remembers coming back that first night, after Alfred retrieved their tea mugs with a distinct British air of ‘would the gentleman please see himself to the door’. He'd found the billionaire wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe. Bruce’s hair was wet but air drying slowly, and he was assembling a sandwich on rye bread. Clark had returned because he couldn’t let the night end, not where it did with Alfred all but flashing the porch lights on them and standing by with a shotgun, not after so many years drawn to that heart. Even if he felt like a trespasser. “Did you forget something?” Bruce asked as he opened the deck’s door, before he headed back to his kitchen. “We never finished our conversation.” Clark answered as he closed and locked the door behind him. Bruce hummed in agreement then launched into a discussion of the White Portuguese’s ETA and its most likely shipping lane. He talked about its possible docks, various overland routes to Luthor’s labs, and several points where they could intercept. He finished up the sandwich in the meantime, sliced it down the middle. And handed half to Clark. With a paper napkin. Clark paused, the way only he could Pause, the night more still and frozen around him than it would normally be this close to morning because he is what he is: Alien. Other. Ill-fitting and odd no matter where he’d landed in his travels. In this monochrome room, in this glass box of a house, maybe he should feel even more strange and displaced. Being trespasser, and alien, and its only point of color. But they were standing in a kitchen, in a warm bubble of light with the suspended glitter of half-fallen dust, and Bruce had just given him half the meal he’d prepared for himself. Bruce’s heart had thrummed along as if he had given no thought to the action. As if it was an action as natural as breath, as heartbeat. (Bruce had already proven that he could control both, with intent.) And feeling welcomed, Clark let himself be swept back into Time and its drumming chorus. Clark bit into the sandwich. It was nicely balanced between condiments and filling. He watched Bruce, leaning against the counter, continue detailing their options. The intense consideration the man put into everything was intimidating. Energizing. (Adorable.) “You forgot about your sandwich,” Clark pointed out. Bruce blinked at him, and then picked it up, taking small efficient bites. The compact fluorescent bulbs hummed honeybee gold. Bruce offered drinks. Clark requested water, asked some questions clarifying the plan, and honestly he had some objections but he’ll bring them up later because— “Hey, is this a date?” —because the conversation that they didn’t get to finish had multiple parts. Bruce slowly wiped away the last of his crumbs, eyes hidden by shadows. “I thought our first was going to be tomorrow.” “I was hoping you’d consider that our fourth,” Clark hammed it up. First at Luthor’s gala, second at the patio, and now would make it the third. A flicker of thought and disbelief sprinted across Bruce’s face. “Superman thinks food or drink and a shred of conversation is enough to make something a date?” “Are you saying you don’t know me well enough to count tonight as a third date?” Clark challenged. Bruce had shown him the files on Superman, both from the leech and the information Bruce had gathered on his own. It was as invasive in its own way as Clark’s listening in had been. Clark knew this: there was a massive series of rooms hidden underneath Bruce’s house, there were illegal police scanners and security camera footage on some of the monitors in the cave, Bruce’s entire alter-ego as a vigilante lived in the shadows. These facts combined into a picture of passion and ability and, most of all, paranoia. Focus. Intensity. Knowledge. This sort of man did not lightly let someone else close and lock his door. Did not lightly invite someone in, nor lightly offer food. “You’re calling this a third date?” Bruce looked at him, a long sweep from head to toe. “Yes, if you want to invoke the ‘third date rule’.” Clark said with full intent. He moved closer. Pushed forward into Bruce’s space slowly enough for Bruce to whisper, yes, but only loud enough for Superman to hear. Bruce tangled his hands into his cape as if he’d wanted to do so ever since he’d laid eyes on it. And dragged Clark to his knees. Clark flowed with it, and in doing so, swiveled Bruce to the nearest glass wall. Pressed against the stars and the moon and night sky, Bruce was magnificent, and Clark unfolded his bathrobe like opening a gift, took his cock in like taking in air, in throat-burning gulps, as if he hadn’t breathed for years, or ever, tongue against a vein, mouth full of heat, head full of song. Full of a full-bodied heartbeat and its owner twining fingers into his hair.   “—that good is he?” Lois laughs, breaking into Clark’s daydream. Clark lets his blush take over his face and climb up his ears. He nods a thanks, as she hands him a cup of coffee then straddles a chair, her face a clear declaration: give me all the details. “I’m not gonna kiss and tell, Lo,” Clark protests and shoves his face into the cup. But he can’t help smiling into it. She eyes him and then says seriously, “No, I think you’re too invested for that.” He looks at her quietly, and sees her next words coming. “Clark, be careful.” “We are,” he says with a smirk. “Not just,” she rolls her eyes, “protection but. I mean, does he know?” And Clark knows she’s saying ‘about Superman,’ but to tell her one thing means to tell her everything because Lois is the sort to see the truth of things once she’s caught a whiff. And Batman’s secrets aren’t his to tell, “It’s fine.” “Given his history—” “He’s a better man than he lets himself be.” Clark insists. Lois eyeballs him and tchs her tongue hard against her teeth, “Well, get past tonight and this weekend first, the vultures will be out in force.” “Cat mentioned what to expect already.” She sighs. “You don’t get it because you weren’t here for Bruce’s last go-around with the media. And frankly Wayne has mellowed out the past decade.” “Has he?” Clark can’t help but laugh, if the highly intense man that he knows is ‘mellow’, he can’t even imagine the debacle had they met when either of them were younger. “He really has. So the gossip hounds are starving and you’re fresh meat.” She joins him in laughter, “How are you planning on dodging the photographers anyways?” “We have a plan,” Clark says. Bruce had let him know about the image disruptor last night but they’d have to let the paparazzi get at least a couple shots of them as they enter the museum or they’d be hounded even worse. For that, Clark planned to tint his eyes with a little heat vision, and loosen up the muscles around his eyes, his cheeks, and his jaws in a certain way that changed the shape of his face just enough. He shows it off to Lois as a test. She startles. “Okay that’s creepy.” Clark lets the tension on his face go, “Too uncanny valley?” “Seriously. Pull that out only for the catwalk.” She smacks him lightly on the shoulder. “Speaking of shutterspeed, you’d probably be best off holed up together until it all blows over.” “Yeah?” “At least for the weekend. And don’t google yourself, nothing good comes from it.”   Clark repeats her words to Bruce as they pull up to the lakehouse after the Antiquities event. Touching base with Diana had gone well and there was something about their interaction in the car after the museum that had Clark feeling not only hopeful about what’s been happening between them but increasingly certain that their intensity is mutual. Being public, to Clark, being part of a community, and their social consciousness, is tantamount to being real. Clark had pushed for their relationship to be real in the ways that felt real to him and his Kansas upbringing. But he knows, just by the layers of Bruce’s home and the ways that he presented himself in various settings, that this is not quite Bruce’s truth. Bruce’s truths and reality lives in small safe spaces, hidden, much like Lois suggested them to be. ‘Holed away,’ indeed. “She’s not wrong,” Bruce concedes. Earlier, photographers had piled up outside the Museum of Antiquities for the Ages Of Weapons exhibit’s invite-only Grand Opening. A small tide of cameras held back by velvet ropes. Who is that? What’s your name? Bruce, who’s your date? Mr. Wayne can you comment on your companion— They both just smiled enigmatically and swanned past. Bruce had agreed to let the Cat publish the details in a short blurb on Saturday with a Sunday edition containing a couple inches of facts mixed with speculation. Jenny had probably been in the crowd somewhere, to catch a shot of them. Bruce had quirked an approving look at how Clark had held his face uncannily, and challenged him to keep it up until Alfred picked them up again. Clark, laughingly, agreed. Watched as Bruce put on his own mask of chipper besotted billionaire, introducing Clark to various people only to overshadow him almost immediately, while Clark hid his smiles behind Bruce’s shoulder. Have you met Clark? He’s amazing, he’s so smart, why the other day he said this fascinating thing about charities and how vocational training programs are more effective— Clark said no such thing to Bruce, but it’s a sentiment he couldn’t disagree with. He’d written an article about it early on in his reporting career and wonders if Bruce had read it or had come to the same opinion independently. As they spill out of the car and into the garage, Clark glances at Bruce. Perhaps it would help Bruce to have an excuse to say such things that were normally out of character? It’s almost nice, to be able to help out in this way, as Clark Kent. Bruce glances back, in question. Clark feels his mouth twitch upwards. “I’ll take my leave then.” Alfred says. “Good night Alfred,” they chorus back. The garage is set into the slope of the land. The lakehouse itself built onto a little rise that overhangs the lake, on rock that’s firmer than that which the waters had cut caves through. Bruce’s main garage sits in a nook that’s half-natural and half-manmade, the cars lined up like children’s marbles. They pass them by, heading to the staircase at the back. There’s steps that lead up into the lakehouse, and its streetlevel carport; the staircase upwards hide the fact that twined beside it is another staircase leading down into a Cave. It’s with a comfortable silence that they head up. Bruce veers off at the level just beneath the house. “Wine cellar?” Clark asks. Bruce gestures to his left. “Over there.” Instead, he opens the door in front of him to reveal a cavernous dressing room; less a walk-in closet with delusions of grandeur than one with an olympic gold. Suits are hung and arrayed in some obscure order, shoes displayed pristine on tilted displays below them, and interspersed at hip height are several series of slim drawers, in dark woods, above which lurk a terrifying squadron of silk ties. Two chairs, in dark leather. A full length mirror, with angled sides to show a persons left and right profile. Bruce opens one of the slim drawers and sets down his watch, his cufflinks, his tie pin; when Clark peeks inside them with xray vision there are arrays of matching sets of paraphernalia, including pocket squares, rings, lapel pins, and a metal wristcuff or two. Bizarrely: a heavy gold link chain as well, with a thinner one that holds a cross, that sits next to what appears to be a set of gold rings and a fake moustache.   Bruce has removed his tie and his shoes and is hanging up his suit jacket and pants on a coat rack by the time Clark looks back at him. Clark sucks in air as if punched in the lungs. Bruce’s black-socked feet, the fabric clinging on the lush curve of his calves, held up by black sock garters. The naked skin of his thighs, shirttails loose around them as Bruce removes his shirt stays. The hint of his ass as Bruce bends a little to unclasp the strap around his thigh. Clark is pulled closer to the sight as if dragged by his tie. “It fits you.” Clark hums in question as Bruce reaches out to smooth his hands across Clark’s shoulders. They then skim down to his waist as if checking the tailoring. Clark looks up into Bruce’s eyes in question as they slide down Clark’s body. “The suit, the tie, and the scarf. You should keep them.” Bruce’s hands let go suddenly, at Clark’s sharpened look. “I’m serious. Don’t be weird about it.” “What if it’s already weird?” Clark says, shucking off the jacket at the pause. He looks down at the expensive fabric and knows it to cost more than the sum of everything he owns. Bruce is suddenly three feet away, a quick stride that brings him to an empty rack, “Says the man flying around in bright red and blue.” His uniform? Clark blinks in thought. “Are you saying—” But Bruce has already grabbed a hanger and walked back, offering it to Clark. Clark darts his eyes around the room, at the otherwise full racks. At the empty one that Bruce grabbed the hanger from. The shelves below it are empty too. He sees, suddenly: some of the watches contain incongruous electronics. A couple pairs of shoes contain blades. There are more false hair pieces than just the moustache. There are a couple poison rings. His uniform. “—I should keep this here then?” Clark asks, for clarity, as he drapes the scarf over a hanger and loops the tie next to it. He hopes he’s not breaking whatever this moment is. “It would be efficient.” Clark quietly puts his jacket on the hanger, his pants too, after slipping off his shoes, watching Bruce putter around removing all their garters and stays and whisking them away to their places. He hands the hanger to Bruce who places it next to his own, to be cleaned, and knows with a quiet certainty that the suit that Clark wore tonight will appear in that empty section of closet space after they’ve been restored to Alfred’s satisfaction. Bruce had cleared a space for him on that rack. Clark lets his thumb run over his scarf, plaid but somehow upscale and pretentious, and his raw silk tie, its slight unevenness making it more touchable for all its lustre. There’s a certain galling uneasiness attached to receiving gifts you can’t match, but Clark supposes that comes with the territory of dating the 1%. For the uniform of someone dating Bruce Wayne. And the thing is, he can’t figure out if this gift of a space, here in Bruce’s home, is just another sign of that same billionaire extravagance. Or if Bruce is just that intense in all things, and dating is among them.   If Bruce doesn’t realize, somehow, what he’s giving with each new room that he shows Clark of the mansion of his inner self. Clark hangs the scarf up on a hangar, slides the tie onto its specialty holder. Drops his own cufflinks and pin into the drawer that'd been cleared for him. And Bruce starts crowding him against the wall. Hands hot at his hip bones. He doesn’t meet Clark’s eyes. There’s no way Bruce doesn’t realize. Clark puts his hand to Bruce’s face to catch his gaze. There is, Clark thinks, a certain kind of reckless bravado needed to put on a costume and do these impossible uncertain things. To jump off a building, or a cliff. Or the world. To face cameras, or to meet someone’s eyes. To put a particular scarf in a particular space, hidden away from everyone else. Clark rises on his toes slightly to kiss against Bruce’s mouth the words, “When’re you going to take me to your bed?” He settles back onto his heels with a smirk and watches the bravado around Bruce settle into something less false. He lets himself be tugged out of the dressing room but stops them at the stairs when Bruce makes to walk up. “Your real bed.” Clark says pointedly, “Not ‘Bruce Wayne’s.” “You looked.” With his kryptonian vision, is implied. Bruce’s face is inscrutable. “I guessed,” Clark corrected. “That bed up there? It’s not you.” The lakehouse is a display case that proclaimed its owner had nothing to hide. The rooms that really housed the heart of Bruce sat below. Bruce stares at him steadily. “You said you wanted me to stop being a ‘distraction’; everything up there is just that. A distraction,” Clark says. “What happens if you bring me down there?” Clark takes a second to brace against the sound of Bruce’s heartbeat, suddenly loud and crashing against him like a tidal wave. “What happens if you let me fuck you there.” Clark says. Thoughts race visibly in Bruce’s eyes as the words strike him. “You’re not going to be able to stop thinking about it now, I’m guessing.” Clark’s barely able, himself, past the thunder of Bruce’s heart, fitting his hand to his fingerprints on Bruce’s shoulder. Clark watches Bruce lean into his hand, deepening the bruises ever so slightly. “You think I’ll ‘let you’?” Bruce demands, “What makes you think you could?” There’s a fine tremble in his stance that Clark knows that no one but him could see. Could anyone else tell from Bruce’s expression how fast his heart is going? Could someone also know Bruce well enough to understand that while the words were angry, underneath them was fear? Because I’m Superman. Because I’m stronger than you. Because I can hold you down and make you take it. They both know these words, these thoughts, this script. Instead, Clark squeezes Bruce’s shoulder with measured force, and says instead, “Because you’d ask for it. Because I’m patient.” And takes a breath as a smirk cracks loose, “Because I already know you’re a lot of work.” There’s a quiet sound that might have been a scoff, or a dry bark of laughter, that escapes from Bruce’s mouth as he looks down. Pure fury suddenly flashing through Bruce's face and heartbeat. And then he’s slipping free of Clark’s touch. Goes down the stairs so smoothly it looks like gliding. Slides open the false wall and descends into the cave. There in that monochrome cavern, instead of turning to the right, to where the monitors radiate coldly, he turns left. He pulls open a dark shadowed door. Then: a burst of color. Like an open wound, lancing out from a dark crack in the wall, glowing. It reveals a trapezoidal room, like a tent, full of rich red-orange woods and dark metal accents. When Clark follows Bruce into the space, there’s armor and weaponry of Japanese make, what appears to be an early version of a suit for the Gotham Bat, a small zen garden, and golden light coming from overhead panels softened by parchment paper screens. Bruce stalks to the back of the room, visibly not letting himself watch Clark’s reactions, and slams open a section of wall to the left. Its seams were invisible. He looks back at Clark from the revealed doorway as if taunting Clark to follow. Clark follows. Throat tight against Bruce’s anger. The room Clark enters is small. Practically empty. The trapezoid in this room is inverted. The ceiling is wider than the floor, giving a feeling of immense airy space due to the massive panels spanning above them. The wooden walls funnel down to the slightly disheveled futon that lies in the room’s golden-orange heart. Bruce stands there as if in judgement, stiffly by the bed, framed by the space, watching Clark pause at at the sloped doorway and take in this barren room. He’s all but reeking with confrontation, eyes hard, hackles up, heart ready to go to war. The sound of it sets Clark’s mind to racing, wishing to avoid that sound and find himself some space to process; and Bruce, mouth opening to speak, becomes caught as if in amber. Clark Pauses. He thinks of Bruce as he’s seen him all these few days. The incredibly put together man that met him across various tables, all chrome and polish and bespoke suits. The breathtaking, highly experienced lover that was all velvet control. The Bat that he met, in armor and argument and violence on the Gotham streets, the incredible skill that he’d displayed that night. The exhaustion that he hides. Clark thinks of the lakehouse and how incredibly hollow and colorless it is, the desolate shell of it, and the dark caves below with the various pristine armors of both Wayne and the Bat. How clearly Bruce takes pride in how his walls and his doors are seamless. Clark is standing in the crack of one wall. Clark is awkward, standing there, half-dressed; Bruce must be too, even though he doesn’t look it. The futon does not have army corners. Bruce’s socks are starting to collapse down his calves, his shirt is still buttoned up as if he’s still wearing pants. Bruce is not wearing pants. And the rage he wears on his face as if it’s all Clark’s fault makes Clark’s temper rise up as well. Is Bruce going to pretend Clark did this? That Bruce has taken no part? Clark was invited here, to Bruce’s place, to this room, to the heart of his home; why does he still resist? Does Bruce think, after the events of these days, that Clark would take any part in truly breaking him? That he isn’t here for the sum of who Bruce is, and here trying to be careful, trying so hard not to shatter the moment? It’s like Clark isn’t trusted. Like he’s no better than the alien Bruce had been afraid of. Clark looks into Bruce’s eyes and tries to understand despite his hurt and nausea and something about the tightness around those eyes— the way he holds his mouth, his chin, his shoulders —Clark’s reminded abruptly of that bar he’d worked at, ages ago, and the woman who told him, let it go, as a man threw a beer can at his head. He’s reminded abruptly of his travels and the ways people look and react when backed into a corner. (Superman could have saved her. Hell, any man could have ‘saved’ her. But she didn’t want him to.) (Superman could have saved Jonathan Kent. But he didn’t want him to.) (Clark is reminded of his tiny carvings, trembling.) Reminded of a penthouse room and of take-out and reminded of a fancy restaurant and of Bruce’s fingers, at the base of his wineglass, pulling it towards him and pushing it away. The bruises Bruce’d let the world punch into him, that he goads Clark into making. Clark’s fingers, withheld from the glass case of graffiti'd armor. And Clark realizes that Bruce had not let Clark touch it but also Bruce himself has never done so. Though he wished to. (Bruce was standing there, trembling. Angry. And something else.) (Like Bruce knows he can shatter everything. Like Bruce has held lives in his hands and knows he could crush them. Like someone has crossed a rip in the world and told Bruce he is a danger to everyone and there was nothing anyone could do that could possibly make him stop, make him kneel—) (Oh. Clark thinks of wealth and power and shadows and everywhere they’ve tripped against each other this past week. He thinks of bruises.  Oh.) Clark then quietly thinks back to that first night with Bruce, in the glow of his kitchen. When Bruce made a sandwich and gotten lost in his explanations. Clark inhales. Lets time rush back in. “I barely use these rooms.” Bruce says. Only when he’s too tired or strung out to go upstairs after patrols, Clark mentally translates. When he’s unable to keep up appearances. Clark nods and instead of crowding Bruce, heads to the room’s other opening. Lights come on when he curiously opens the frosted door to reveal a bathroom with a large covered rectangular tub. It’s slightly humid. “A hot tub?” Clark says. “An ofuro. A soaking tub,” Bruce corrects, from behind him. From anyone else, the words might sound confused. “Huh, never seen one. Show me the ropes then.” Bruce does so, the words spilling out, his shoulders going loose, and Clark could see it all play out in a sudden joyous rush. Bruce will explain and then maybe demonstrate, relaxing from the soaking and from a script he knows. They will sit in the water and Bruce might unwind and Clark will probably do something to raise his hackles up again. It’s inevitable. Their experiences have led them both to wear various selves and sometimes their armors keep them apart. But Clark knows how slip through the cracks of it now, if not in this way then in another, because if you ignore all the distractions they are the same. Neither of them want to hurt the other but, due to how life has crafted them, violence and strength is a desperate necessity as much as a terrible fear. Clark is a millenial, he’s grown up with the world at his fingertips, the internet being the one place where Clark’s physical body can’t out himself as alien, and watched people tear at each other through words because their defenses triggered other people’s hurts inadvertantly. He has seen and experienced these cognitive and culture clashes as he’d slipped through the cracks of the world, through his travels, watching and learning and searching… for some echo of himself. He’s standing in front of one. And Clark knows how to read these echoes, that heartbeat, even when the heart itself lies. Even when the heart lies to itself. Even when Bruce wraps himself up in lies and doesn’t believe himself to be made up of more. Untangling the lies makes the discoveries sweeter, the knowledge and joy thus gained made more delicious. Clark lets himself smile as he turns over and over the thought that he could spend his entire life chasing this taste.

December, 1912   “Are you sure it’s good?” Lena sighs, putting her pencil down, and Kara almost feels guilty for interrupting her. Lena has been stressing about the entrance exams she has to do as part of her application to NYU, and Kara knows how much she hates being interrupted when she’s on a study roll. But her own self-doubt is winning out, unfortunately. She’s been working at CatCo for months, now, well out of her trial phase, and yet she still hasn’t had a single story selected to be featured anywhere of importance in the paper. No matter how hard she tries, what exciting stories she tries to pursue, all she’s gotten to write so far have been small pre-determined fluff pieces. Wedding announcements, store advertisements and the like. It’s like she’s trudging up a hill that won’t end. “I promise,” Lena says, laying a hand on top of Kara’s. “The prose is great, the grammar is fine. I can’t see anything wrong with it.” Kara frowns. If it’s not her writing then something else has to be wrong, and she doesn’t know what. “Then why do my stories keep being passed over?” Kara asks quietly, running her eyes over her own cramped handwriting. She’ll type it up on one of the typewriters in the bullpen tomorrow, not that she’s likely to get anything besides a tiny column in the back. Lena squeezes her hand sympathetically. “There are a lot of reasons. You’re still new, and there are people with more seniority,” Lena says, but there’s a definite addendum in her voice that Kara gets caught on. “And?” Kara presses, and Lena sighs. “And, the stories you’re chasing are…maybe a little too big?” Lena offers hesitantly. Kara blinks, a furrow forming in her brow. “Isn’t that what the news is about?” Kara says, waving her notes in the air as she gestures with her hands. “Big stuff? That’s what always makes headlines.” “Sometimes, but didn’t Cat hire you because you connect with people on a personal level?” Lena says, sounding entirely too reasonable. “Anyone can chase big ticket breaking news. I think she wants you to tell different sorts of stories.” Kara huffs, flopping back on the couch in exasperation. “Like what?” Lena makes a sympathetic face, but Kara can tell that her attention is starting to wander back to her work. “Darling, I love you,” Lena says, and Kara’s heart still leaps at the words even all these months after they first said them. “But the entry exam for NYU is notoriously awful, and I can’t really think about anything else right now. Talk to Clark about it, maybe?” Lena gives her a kiss, and turns back to her textbook while Kara pouts. Kara could talk to Clark about it. He’s only a room away, since she and Lena are the only ones still living in Clark and Lois’ guest room – Winn and James have their love-nest a few neighbourhoods away, Maggie and Alex moved to Queens, and Lucy and Jess are still neighbours down in Brooklyn. But considering Clark is one of the reporters whose stories actually are chosen more often than not, she doesn’t want to come off like a whiny rookie. Even if she is, a little.   No, she’s not going to bring her issues to Clark. She’s going to bring them right to the top. It takes a few days to get a meeting with Cat Grant. She’s a busy woman, and taking time out of her day to meet with the most junior of reporters isn’t a high priority. But Cat seems in good spirits when Kara strides into her office, and Kara takes it as a good sign. “Miss Danvers. To what do I owe this unexpected meeting?” Cat drawls, reclining slightly in her chair like some sort of baroness of her own little empire. “Well, I –“ Kara says, the wind suddenly going out of her sails at Cat’s even expression. “I just, uh. I’ve been here a while now. A few months? And I was wondering –“ Cat rolls her eyes, her face broadcasting impatience. “I really don’t have all day, Keira.” Rolling her eyes at what she’s pretty sure is a deliberate mispronunciation of her name, Kara spits it out. “Why are none of my articles being picked up?” Cat doesn’t reply right away. She seems to absorb the question, staring at Kara with an unreadable expression, and Kara shifts from foot to foot. She feels like she’s being weighed on some invisible scale. Finally, Cat gestures to the small chair in front of her desk. “Sit down.” Kara sits. “I don’t mean to complain,” Kara says as she tucks her feet under the chair, anxiety twisting in her belly, “I just – I’m looking for advice, I guess? I want to be better. I want to fulfill the potential you saw in me, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” Cat is quiet for just long enough to let Kara get uncomfortable, her fingers steepled and pressed to her mouth as she stares Kara down. When she finally speaks, the haughty condescension Kara is used to from her is gone for the first time since they met on the deck of the Titanic. “Miss Danvers, I am not the head of the editorial department,” Cat says, moving her hands to fold them on the desk. “I don’t decide what does and does not make news, unless Snapper Carr has made a particularly egregious error. I get final say in the rundown, but the day-to-day isn’t up to me.” “I know. I’m sorry,” Kara starts, but Cat holds up a hand to silence her. “But, I have read your work.” Kara’s heart picks up again, racing in her chest as Cat continues to look at her evenly. Cat has read her work. This is what she wanted, but somehow it just makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. “And?” Kara asks tentatively, and Cat shrugs. “It’s passable. You’re better than I expected you to be, with so little training. But your heart isn’t in it.” Kara frowns. It isn’t exactly the solid advice she was hoping for, and Cat is being even more vague than usual. “Wh – my heart?” she asks, thinking back on her articles with a more critical eye and failing to find a lack of effort. She’s been working harder at this than she has at anything else in her life. “What does that -” “That wasn’t a question,” Cat interrupts firmly. “I hired you, Miss Danvers, because I think you see the world differently than everyone else at this company. You have a new perspective. A way with people that lets you see into the true heart of things. So why, pray tell, would you waste that on trying to write the same drivel as everyone else?” “I thought…” Kara trails, her hands nervously smoothing over her slacks. This job is a huge deal, especially for her – she’s been transitory most of her adult life, hopping from place to place and doing whatever jobs would get her the money she needed to move on. Building real skills was never a top priority, and she feels out of her depth here surrounded by people who have been on this career path for years. “That you should be following the crowd,” Cat says, nodding. “I understand the impulse. But you’re capable of more.  Stop looking for approval elsewhere, follow the stories, and be confident in your abilities. Write about what you care about. Everything else will follow.” Kara sits silent, trying to absorb the information, until Cat waves a hand. “That’s all the inspiring speeches I have time for today. Go, chase the news. Kara.” Kara leaves, her mind already racing with the implications of the conversation. When she gets home from work, for the first time in weeks Lena doesn’t have her nose buried in a textbook. She’s in the kitchen with Clark, mixing cocktails while he finishes up dinner. She’s wearing one of her nicer dresses, her hair in a simple updo as she rattles a cocktail shaker and pours the drink over ice, and Kara just stands in the doorway and stares for a moment, letting her strange day drain away to be replaced by warm comfort. Since she and Lena got to New York together, Kara has slowly been getting used to the fact that Lena is her lover. Hers, to have and hold, and just as dedicated to Kara as Kara is to her. Lena left her fiancée, her fortune, her entire life behind to be with Kara and have nothing. But every so often it hits her in little moments like this – Lena laughs at something Clark says, white teeth flashing under crimson lips, and Kara’s love feels so deep and all-consuming that she can hardly breathe. It’s Lois who snaps her out of it, emerging from the bedroom and laughing at the dumbstruck look on Kara’s face. “You two really need your own place. Keep it in your pants, please, Kara.” Lena meets Kara’s eyes with a smile, a light blush staining her cheeks, and Kara knows without a doubt that Lois is right. If they had their own space right now, she’d already be on her knees and paying her devotion against the kitchen counter. “Welcome home, darling,” Lena says, putting the shaker down and reaching for Kara to come closer. Kara does, dropping her messenger bag along the way and letting Lena pull her into a kiss by shirt-collar. “I missed you.” “I missed you,” Kara murmurs against her lips. She pulls away a few inches, looking at the roast chicken Clark is pulling out of the oven and the cocktail glasses on the counter. “What’s the occasion?” “Alex and Maggie are coming for dinner. Did you forget?” Kara had, in fact, forgotten. She hardly has time to dash to the sink and wash her face from the grime of the commute home before her sister is spilling through the door, holding a pie in one hand and Maggie’s hand in the other. Alex hands the pie to Kara, gives Clark a tired handshake, and collapses on the couch in a whirlwind. “You okay, Alex?” Kara asks, setting the pie on the counter for later. “You look even more wiped than usual.” Alex groans, rubbing her temples. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in my life. Why did I decide to be a doctor? What was I thinking?” “You were thinking that you want to help people,” Maggie pipes up, taking two drinks from Lena and carrying one to Alex. Alex takes a huge gulp, coughing slightly at the strength of Lena’s mixing. “And you are.” “It’s just so exhausting,” Alex says, swirling the booze over the ice in her glass. “And it’s just volunteer work, right now. It’s all low-income patients or immigrants, people who get turned away from other clinics for not having the money. I feel like I’m making a difference, but for every patient I can see and process, there’s three more I can’t help because they can’t afford their medications.” “Is that common?” Kara asks, sitting next to Alex and feeling like an idea bigger than she can contain is forming in her head. “People being turned away from medical care?” “Incredibly. There are supposed to be social programs that help, but they almost never work. Especially if people are new here and don’t know the system. It’s made intentionally confusing.” Cat Grant’s voice rings in Kara’s head, saying write about what you care about, and a lightbulb clicks on. “Alex,” Kara says, the article she knows she could pull off already writing itself in her head, “do you think I could tag along to your clinic tomorrow and do some interviews? I have an idea for an article.” “Sure, if you want to. I’ll warn you, though, it’s not very fun –“ Kara bolts for the spare bedroom to grab her notebook and scribble down her idea, and Alex is left talking to empty air. A few days later Kara is submitting what feels like the first article she’s ever truly cared about to be edited and decided on, and she has to fight the impulse to march up to Cat’s office again and ask if she did it right this time. It felt right, when she was writing it. She’d gone with Alex to her clinic twice, interviewing both the doctors and patients, and what she found there lit a fire in her – people suffering in silence, and doctors running themselves ragged trying to help in a system built to fail. So she did what Cat told her she was good at. She talked to people, gained gradual trust, and crafted what she can only describe as a deep look at the shortcomings of low-income medical care. It’s hard-hitting, deep and thorough but grounded in personal stories. It’s also comparatively small-time, compared to the political scandals and celebrity gossip she’s been chasing. Kara has never been more proud of anything, and she hasn’t been so nervous since her Bat Mitzvah. It takes a week to hear anything back. Kara spends it trying to think about anything else – if she’s really going to do this, she needs to be able to handle her work being rejected, she knows that – but this piece feels more personal than anything she’s ever written before. Almost as personal as her art. Her biggest chance to prove that she’s worthy of Cat’s faith in her. Six days after she submitted it, the copy turns up on her desk. It’s scattered with corrections made in red ink, but all of them are surface level, and when she gets to the end there’s a note in looping handwriting. Now this has heart. The article runs on the second page of the next edition, and buoyed by the small bonus it wins her, Kara starts looking for an apartment. As grateful as she is for Clark’s hospitality and kindness, the only thing she wants to do in celebration of her new career move is lay Lena down on a soft surface and finally have some privacy. And despite Clark’s warning that they should shop around until they find the right fit, Kara falls in love with the first place they see. It’s in Greenwich Village, close enough to Lois and Clark to visit regularly but far enough away from their middle-class neighbourhood to be affordable on Kara’s small single salary. The buildings remind Kara of the old streets of Europe, the hostels and rooming-houses she and Alex used to stay in with pennies to their name, and the familiarity warms her to it immediately. The building that houses the apartment they’re looking at is unassuming from the outside, plain sooty brick with rusty fire escapes and a rickety fence surrounding a flat patch of grass on either side of the front doors. But the hallways are surprisingly clean; and when the landlord unlocks the door to one of the 6th-floor apartments and guides them inside, Kara almost requests an application on the spot. It’s a tiny place – the kitchen, living room and bedroom are one space, with a small separate bathroom attached – but the windows are large and bright, and one of them has an attached fire escape where Kara can already see herself sitting in the open air to draw the city life around them. It has warm-coloured floral wallpaper and a scrubbed table and chairs, and all in all it’s exactly what she imagined it might be when she was floating in and out of consciousness in the sea, yearning for a future with Lena. A place that’s theirs. “It don’t come with a bed, but there’s a shop down the way that sells furniture at a fair price,” the landlord says, tipping his hat good-naturedly. “Tram stop just around the corner. Got hot running water on a meter. If you go over, you pay extra. Lights are gas. How’s it treat you?” Lena, quiet throughout the short tour, approaches one of the windows. She puts her hands on the sill, pulling up on the frame until the window opens with a rusty sound to let in the unseasonably warm breeze and the sounds of the street below. She takes a deep breath, looking around to the sink and the tiny gas range, the small icebox tucked in the corner and the standing washing tub in the bathroom. This whole space could fit into Lena’s rooms on the Titanic 10 times over or more. But when she turns back to Kara, Lena’s smile is brighter than the sun coming through the glass. “I think it’s perfect,” she says. Kara’s heart seizes with love. “Do you have an application? We’ll fill it out right now,” Kara says, and the landlord blinks with surprise. “You sure there’s enough room for the two of you?” he asks, looking back and forth between the two of them. Clearly he assumed that the apartment would be for only one of them, but Kara nods, locking eyes with Lena who perches on the windowsill. “Positive.” “Right then,” he says, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Got an application round here someplace – my office is in the basement, see. Feel free to keep looking around, I’ll be back.” He bustles out the door, and they can hear his slow, careful steps start down the stairs in the distance. He walks stiffly, Kara noticed, probably a knee injury - and the journey to get up here took a few minutes as he apologized for the slowness of the climb. He’ll likely be gone for a bit. “I don’t want to be too hopeful,” Lena says as soon as he leaves, her eyes bright, “but I think this might be our home.” “You’re sure it’s not too small?” Kara asks, a tiny lingering worry still present. Lena dusts away the remains of it with a single sentence. “Kara, we’ve spent six months sleeping on your cousin’s living room floor.” Kara laughs, conceding the point. “Okay, fair. Next to that, anything looks nice.” “And besides. I’ve never had anything that was really mine,” Lena says, running a finger along the wallpaper. It’s lifting at the corners, the plaster underneath visible, but Kara loves it. “Everything I’ve ever had has been bought by my brother, or my mother, or Mon-El. All of it was given conditionally, and taken away if I wasn’t obedient enough. This place could be ours. A place for just you and me, that we earned.” “It’s exactly what I pictured,” Kara admits, joining Lena on the windowsill. “When…when we talked about it, remember? I thought then that I was going to die. I just wanted something to hope for. And now we could actually have it. It feels like a dream.” Lena’s expression is soft, and she tucks her head into Kara’s shoulder as they gaze out the window together. It’s a beautiful moment; so when Lena breaks it, it makes it all the more stirring. “I think we’re going to need a bed that doesn’t squeak.” Kara laughs, but her heart beats a little faster at the undertone. At why Lena would want a noiseless bed. At all the things they can do in one. “Well, that was a concern at Clark’s, definitely,” Kara says, aiming for a joking tone. “But here, I’m not sure I care if the neighbours hear what I do to you. This is our place. If we want to shake the foundations, we can.” She expects Lena to laugh. But Lena’s eyes aren’t mirthful when she turns to Kara; they’re burning. So when Lena seizes her by the front of her shirt and drags her into the tiny bathroom, pinning her to the sink with a doozy of a kiss, Kara is no more stunned than she usually is when Lena initiates anything physical. Just surprised and delighted, even months later, that Lena wants her this way at all. And by the feel of it, Lena wants her. Her kisses are deep, tongue-forward right off the bat, and she grasps Kara’s hands and pulls them to her hips before Kara can do it herself. She’s radiating happiness and desire, and Kara soaks it in. “Couldn’t even wait until we moved in?” Kara murmurs against Lena’s mouth, her hands moving south, and Lena nips at her lower lip with a wicked grin. “I need to get a feel for the place.” “You mean you need me to feel you up in the place.” Kara punctuates it with a healthy squeeze, spinning them around and lifting Lena up by the thighs to sit on the sink, and Lena’s breathy little gasp is its own reward. “Is that so bad?” Lena pants, hurriedly pulling her skirts out of the way to make room for Kara’s hand. Kara, half an ear cocked towards the crack in the door to listen for the man’s steps on the stairs, takes the invitation – usually she would take her time tracing up Lena’s legs to her apex, but this time her fingers find wetness right away. Lena sighs into her mouth, arching into the touch. “The landlord could be back any minute,” Kara warns, already applying pressure just where Lena likes it best. Lena, her head rolling back to rest on the copper mirror, just spreads her legs further. “Then I suppose you should get to work.” Kara doesn’t think she’ll ever tire of this. Every time they’ve been able to sneak moments together like this it’s been furtive and quick, one ear at the door like it is right now – but every time is worth it. She loves how Lena feels under her fingers, slick and wet and quivering at her touch; she loves being the instrument of her pleasure, knowing that Lena’s desire it too big to contain. Knowing now that if they get this apartment she’ll be able to do this any time she wants, be able to spread Lena out bare and explore her the way she deserves, lights a fire in her. She presses her mouth to Lena’s throat, feeling the vibration of her quiet moans and the fluttering of her pulse, and thanks god for every moment she gets with this woman. Kara needn’t have worried about getting caught. It takes Lena less than a minute, the well-applied strokes that Kara has learned in their time together taking her apart in record time. She manages to stifle Lena’s moans with a hand over her mouth – it had seemed the thing to do, at the time – and when she takes the hand away, Lena’s lipstick has left a print on her palm. Perhaps, Kara thinks with a delightful sort of thrill, the hand over her mouth even added to the quickness of the whole thing. Perhaps Lena liked it more than she let on. The idea is stirring. “Lord,” Lena breathes, as Kara straightens her skirts for her and helps her down from the sink on shaky doe-legs. “You are good at that, Kara.” Kara can’t help but puff up her chest, a little. Lena manages to clean up the edges of her smeared makeup in the mirror before they hear slow, careful footsteps at the end of the hall, and Kara has just enough time to dart out of the bathroom and shove her lipstick-printed left hand into her pocket before the landlord comes through the door with papers in hand. “Right, ladies,” he says cheerfully, spreading the application on the table and seeming blissfully unaware of why Lena’s pale face is so flushed, “usually this would take a bit, but you seem like decent types. I should be able to get back to you in a few days, after I speak with your current landlord.” Kara, knowing full well that Clark will give them a glowing review, grins. He fusses with uncapping his fountain pen, and Kara surreptitiously wipes her hand on her pants while Lena takes it to sign her name on the application. Yes, Kara decides as Lena finishes her signature and slides a hand up the back of Kara’s shirt, tracing over her lower back just out of sight of the landlord. It makes her tingle with anticipation as she leans forward to scrawl her own name on the line – anticipation for when they can move in, and have all the time and space and privacy they could ever want. This place is absolutely perfect. But first, they need to go to the furniture store. She has about a hundred things she wants to try, and at least half of them require a bed.

The kid delivering awkwardly makes small talk handing over the multiple paper bags of food, and Eddie tips him extra for the trouble.   “I didn’t think I ordered this much, damn.” Venom forms over his forearms and hands to take the load of food and they make their way up the stairs. Another tendril pulls the key from Eddie’s pocket and fumbles with the lock for a second before swinging the door open.   We’re hungry and eager to continue what we were doing before. Venom says, and laughter escapes Eddie in a surprised huff as he kicks the door shut and moves to dump their spoils onto the already crowded kitchen table.   “I am deciding to feel very flattered that you want more of this,” he teases while shuffling through all of their food. “They clearly thought we were having a party,” Eddie laughs as he finds five sets of chopsticks in the bottom of the bag. Venom lifts them out and manifests a clawless hand, trying and failing to hold them correctly.   “It’s much better to just eat everything from the cartons. Why waste time with these little sticks?”   Eddie smiles fondly and pulls the chopsticks from Venom gently, pulling their hand to his mouth to kiss the back. “Help me bring everything over to the couch, love and I’ll show you how to use them.”   The gesture makes happiness swell from Venom, and they swoop in to nuzzle Eddie slowly before kissing him while reaching out with multiple tendrils to grab each bag.   All of the food is spread out on the coffee table with a beer and water for Eddie, and a carton of ice cream with a bottle of chocolate sauce for Venom. Eddie settles back into the plush couch, and stretches his arms above his head before giving Venom a bright grin.   “Alright, babe; you ready for our feast?”   “Always.”   He starts with the two cartons of rice noodles, and Venom settles next to him on the couch with wide, and eager eyes. Eddie picks up a set of chopsticks for himself and then hands them to Venom, smiling at how small they look in his large hand.   “First you’ll act like you’re holding a pencil, like this,” Eddie says, holding the upper chopstick in his hand, before angling the bottom one in the same direction. Then you’ll hold the other one like this…”   After a few moments, Eddie reaches to take Venom’s hand in his, and gently re-positions their fingers and Venom is a quick study. “It might be a bit awkward but if you make your hands a bit smaller, you’ll probably be able to use them with no problem at all!”   “It would still be much easier to just eat from the container, Eddie,” Venom says, cocking their head as they work to keep the chopsticks in the correct position. “I can slurp them up, or even just eat the entire box!”   Eddie curls up on the couch facing Venom, slurping noodles and reaching into another carton for the charred broccoli. “Yeah, yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” he teases, relenting at Venom’s narrowed eyes while holding out one of the mushrooms for them.   “There’s even less clean up to do if we eat that way...Eddie, what is this? ”   “It’s a mushroom. It’s not really a vegetable, more like a fungus. They’ve got really good sauce and they’re more, uh, savory so I figured you might like ‘em.”   Venom rumbles before opening their mouth and taking a bite. There’s a beat of silence before they shrink down to their smaller form, curling around Eddie’s shoulders to take another large mushroom from the carton.   “Acceptable, but where is the meat? Pork and chicken.”   Eddie picks up the chopsticks where they’ve clattered onto the coffee table, and ducks when Venom tries to take more mushrooms. “Come on, darling; try to use them? I’ll even let you watch House Hunters. Again. I won’t even make a peep.”   Venom  nips lightly at Eddie’s fingers, forming a hand again and holds the chopsticks like a pro. Eddie holds out the potstickers and reaches for one of his own. “It’s a bit tricky, put just part both of the chopsticks and then bring them back together to pick up your food.”   When Venom does this successfully, Eddie cheers and presses a loud kiss to the top of Venom’s head. “There you go!” he laughs, and Venom’s fondness flares up in their bond as they pick up more food again.   “We see the appeal; it’s for the experience. The culture, or at least what we see in your memories.”   Eddie shrugs, and picks up the remote to flip through Hulu and find something for them to watch. “It can be, I just enjoy showing you new things, too.”   There’s a piece of sushi precariously held up in front of his line of sight, and a tendril curves along Eddie’s jaw. Eddie’s eyelids flutter as Venom moves closer, and his lips part in surprise.   “Try this one. I ordered our favorite,” Venom murmurs, and Eddie takes a bite; sighing in pleasure at the taste. When he’s finished chewing, Venom’s tongue swipes at his bottom lip and Eddie moans softly. The tendril cupping his jaw forms into a hand that pulls him in closer and their kiss deepens for a moment before Venom pulls away.   Eddie fells dazed as Venom goes back to eating rice noodles, chopsticks set aside to slurp at them right from the carton and Eddie can feel how smug they’re being.   The food is going to get cold, Eddie. Or rather, you will not get any for yourself because we won’t waste a perfectly good meal.   “You better not eat it all,” Eddie says, grabbing firecracker chicken and more sushi. “With that kiss, I thought you were going to make me dinner,” he teases.   Eddie can feel Venom’s purr in his own chest, and he shudders when Venom moves closer to crowd his space. Their tongue licks at his neck, and Eddie’s head falls back to bare more skin for Venom to taste.   “Perhaps you will be dessert.” they say right in his ear with a clawed hand coming around to cup him around his waist and another dragging claws slowly down his front, making Eddie shiver even through the thin material of his t-shirt. His body feels hypersensitized and he almost wants to skip eating so Venom can devour him .   A soft chuckle sounds in his ear before Venom pulls away. “Not quite yet, love.”   “Never thought I’d say this, but you’re a fucking tease.” Eddie takes a deep breath and picks up the remote again to cover up how flushed and breathless he feels. House Hunters pops up right at the top of the queue followed by the documentaries Venom occasionally watches while he sleeps.   There have been countless nights where they’ve ordered in food and camped out in front of the television but everything feels brand new. Venom isn’t just curled around his shoulders or resting on his stomach now like they did before. There’s fingers slotted through his own, and Venom purrs softly each time Eddie kisses them. Tendrils are wrapped around his middle and it feels like a hug, and it’s so strange but so perfectly them that Eddie can’t help the ridiculous grin on his face. He smiles into their kisses, and Venom practically vibrates with happiness each time their mouths press together. They’re feeding each other food, constantly touching and the show playing is just background noise as they explore this new closeness with each other.   “You doin’ alright, V?” Eddie breathes into probably their hundredth kiss of the night as Venom’s tongue drags slowly over his bottom lip.   “Why wouldn’t we be?” they ask with a curious head tilt, taking a break from kissing to grab the last of the mushrooms carefully from around the remaining broccoli and onion.   “Nothing. This is just a lot, you know? Kinda a big confession and now we’re, well…” Eddie sighs as Venom cards their fingers through his hair and lets his own fingers trail through the tendrils connecting them. “Doing this.”   “Touch is one way humans show affection and we also enjoy it. Your responses also feel and taste good to us and we like sharing this with you, Eddie.”   Eddie sighs and closes his eyes. “I might be addicted to it already. Kinda love it to be honest. Being close. Touching.”   You too, he finishes in his head knowing Venom will hear it. Speaking silently means more to Eddie now because it’s something only they can share. It feels more profound somehow because he can’t hide when they speak like this; all of his feelings and emotions are there for Venom to read and Venom’s for him.   I love you, too. Us. He admitted it earlier without the actual word after their bath and it feels natural to admit he loves the symbiote that is currently completely still against him.   There’s no response for a moment before heat builds up slowly inside his chest and spreads throughout his body. It feels like every nerve is lighting up in the best way and Eddie feels like he’s resting in a pool of sunlight before Venom spreads out further over his body to give him something like a full body hug.   You’ve taught us love Eddie, and we feel the same for you.   That warmth continues to spread through him, and Eddie closes his eyes to it and drinks it in with a joyful grin on his face. When Eddie opens his eyes again, he’s spread out on his back on the couch with Venom still stretched out overly him, tendrils lazily touching him and other parts sinking into his skin to stretch out just beneath the surface.   “I’ve corrupted what’s probably the scariest lifeform and made them addicted to cuddles and Chinese food,” Eddie laughs. He’s greeted by a floating head and fully formed teeth hovering just in from of his face.   “Still scary, Eddie. We could eat you, the rest of the food and still have room for more. Don’t forget that!”   “Uh huh, sure,” Eddie sits up slowly and playfully nudges Venom out of the way to take a swig of beer. “You’ll eat it all after you finish watching your daily soap operas, and complain about what color siding they remodel the house with on Property Brothers.”   “We have never watched soap operas and there is nothing wrong with home improvement shows. The walls here were just plain white when we moved in. You should be grateful for our skills,” Venom teases, and wraps tendrils around Eddie’s torso again as they both reach for more food.   “True, I love having someone tell me the difference between periwinkle and eggshell blue. Don’t forget about the ice cream, love. It’ll be a milkshake in a minute,” Eddie says, watching as Venom makes quick work of the lid and tilts the container to drink the melted treat.   Eddie laughs. “Guess it’s too late. I think there’s another full carton in the freezer somewhere…”   “We can save that for later,” Venom murmurs as they turn their attention back to the dwindling spread of their dinner. The sushi is completely gone, and there’s a few potstickers, chicken, and Eddie’s vegetables left.   “Here, let’s finish the these off too. The rest of this reheats decently but I can’t stand day-old egg rolls.   “Bold of you to assume that there’s going to be anything left. Now feed us.”   Eddie bites into an egg roll for himself and then grabs another to share. “Not that way,” Venom insists when Eddie holds up an egg roll in the chopsticks for them to eat. Eddie smiles, and feeds Venom with just his fingers. The purr that results from that makes Eddie blush and his breath hitches when the the tip of that long tongue licks the lingering sauce from his fingers.   “T-that better?” he murmurs, eyes watching as that tongue laves lightly at his palm before curling back into Venom’s mouth. Their grin turns predatory and Eddie finds himself being straddled by a fully formed Venom, the two of them connected by thin tendrils.   “Much better, darling,” they say in a low growl and Eddie shudders as his mouth is taken by a deep kiss. Venom is wrapped in tendrils around his torso, some traveling up to stroke gently at his collarbone and massage at his chest and arms. One of their hands cups his face and tips his head back to take more command over his mouth. All Eddie can do is grasp at Venom, his fingers curling into them and just hold on.   Eddie whimpers into Venom’s mouth, and the kiss breaks; his head falling back to rest on the couch. Venom’s tongue tenderly swipes at his plush bottom lip before teasing at his jaw before reaching its final destination; his neck. The texture and the slow drag of it against his skin should feel strange, but Eddie’s panting like he can’t get enough.   “V, oh , love…” Eddie’s hand comes up to cup the back of Venom’s head and he presses them in closer.   “Yes, Eddie?” they purr before maneuvering them both so Eddie is spread out on his back, and makes short work of his t-shirt before that tongue moves to tease his nipples.   “The human body has so many delightful nerve endings, more than any other creature we have been connected to.”   Tendrils capture his wrists and pin them to the couch cushions while others curl into his hair to massage his scalp. Venom’s tongue drags further down until its swirling around his nipples, and Eddie is pinned easily when he tries to arch up into that touch.   “V-Venom! Oh fuck…”   “So many places to touch and explore, and your brain lights up in utter bliss, Eddie. Even when we do the simplest things...”   To make their point, teeth scrape lightly against his flushed and swollen nipples, making Eddie whimper loudly. He’s hot and aching, his dick heavy and dripping inside his sweats and in response Venom’s hands grip his thighs to spread them apart. More of them pools out to settle between his shaking thighs, and some tendrils tease at his waistband.   “P-please,” Eddie trembles, and Venom stops licking and teasing his nipples to kiss him deeply again. He doesn’t know what Venom plans on or want to do but all he knows is that he wants more of them.   You can have more. Tell us what you need.   “More. More of you. Anything you want.”   He realizes a moment later how dangerous that might be when Venom rears back to look at him. Their gaze is predatory and instead of fear, pure lust burns though Eddie at the gleam of those teeth as Venom grins slowly at him.   Anything? Whatever we want?   He swallows thickly, closing his eyes as Venom’s claws trail lightly over his sensitized skin on his chest, pressing just hard enough to leave faint red marks but not cause pain. They grip his waistband and tug lightly, and Eddie’s hips rise automatically.   Want to taste you, Eddie.   “Oh God,” Eddie gasps as his pants slide down over his hips and are removed, tossed to the floor somewhere behind the couch. He’s exposed to Venom’s gaze and he flushes all the way down his chest at the soft growl Venom makes as they take all of him in.   He knows he looks as desperate and hot as he feels; covered in light scratches, hair askew. Lips swollen, panting and still pinning by various tendrils to the couch; his dick wet and dripping. He lets one foot drop to rest of the floor and bends his other knee and presses against the couch to give Venom more space to do something. Anything.   He’s Venom’s for the taking.   “Darling, Venom...please,” Eddie begs, heart pounding as more of Venom curls around his thighs to tease him everywhere but where he needs it most. His inner thighs are being caressed and massaged and he trembles at the sensation.   Venom takes their time slowly dragging their tongue down Eddie's torso and Eddie's muscles twitch at the texture. He's captivated at the sight and the shining trail that Venom’s tongue leaves behind.   That tongue curls around his dick slowly, lapping at the wetness at the head while tendrils take his balls and massage them. Both of his thighs are moved so they are over Venom’s shoulders and Eddie cries out loudly as Venom begins to suck. The combination of the sloppy, wet sounds and sensations make him whine and his eyes roll back into his head as Venom works him over slowly with single-minded focus. Like their mouth was made to do was worship his dick and nothing else.   You like this.   Eddie arches against Venom’s hold on his hips keeping him in place when their voice teases at the edge of his overstimulated senses. “A-ah!” Arousal is making him ache, he’s overheated and his heart is pounding in his chest. All he can do is try to gasp and writhe in Venom’s hold.   Perfect. Venom hisses in Eddie’s mind as they move their mouth from his dick to lap at his balls, tendrils wrapping around him to slowly jerk him just the way Eddie would do it himself; firmly with swipes over the head with the perfect slow rhythm. Venom rubs at his perineum curiously and Eddie whimpers at the pressure, moaning at the thought of Venom taking him fully and working their way inside. Filling him and fucking him open finding that spot inside of him and Venom latches onto that thought immediately.   We would take such good care of you, Eddie. Open you up slowly until you’re ready to take all of us. Fill you and own you.   Eddie wails sharply as Venom’s voice purrs through his head and as they double their efforts, going back to sucking him and he bites his lip to try to stifle the needy sound.   Don’t hide your sounds from us, Eddie. Let go, darling.   Eddie arches, letting out the most liquid moan probably in his entire life that ends in a whine. His dick pulses multiple times with his release and he moans loudly at the feeling of Venom swallowing him down. He can’t stop trembling as Venom keeps working his dick until he’s fully spent, lapping up the last pulses of his release. Venom takes their time in licking him completely clean and Eddie can’t do much more than let them.   “Fuck, oh shit . V-Venom. I can’t…” They’ve gone just past that point of overstimulation, and Eddie isn’t sure if he go again so soon. He’s caught between twisting away and pressing in closer to have more and finally Venom relents and pulls away for a moment with a delighted smirk as Eddie pants heavily above him.   The tendrils binding his hands squeeze once before dissipating and Eddie’s hands are freed. He moves to touch Venom’s head and stroke them, too tired and wrung out to do much more. In response, Venom dips their head again to tease with their tongue again and Eddie whimpers.   Venom lifts their head with just one more parting lick before giving Eddie a devious grin. Oh you could, Eddie. We can explore how much you, how much we, could take. We have all night and all weekend. Forever.   Just the thought makes a full body shudder work through him, and he aches with want. Wanting more, whatever Venom tries to give him.   Just say it, Eddie.   Eddie swallows hard, the ache of arousal burning through him despite being spent and he hears a growl rumble in Venom’s chest in response. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Venom moves closer to him to settle between his thighs and comfort him as he slowly comes back to earth, tremors working through his body. There are gentle touches and caresses and Eddie melts into them with a goofy, sated smile; running his own fingers through Venom and pulling gently the way he’s slowly learning that they like.   “Yes.”   Venom hums. “‘Yes’ to what, darling?”   “’M yours,” he mumbles. “Take me to bed.”   “Mine,” Venom says and they share a lazy, breathless kiss. “It appears that you can’t even more on your own,” Venom teases as Eddie makes a valiant attempt to rise from the couch. Eddie watches as Venom shrinks against him and then sinks under his skin, some of them remaining to touch him fondly.   “What would I even do without you, babe?”   “Oh Eddie,” Venom growls softly, “Why spend so much time outlining that when we could doing much more productive things with and to you instead?”   Eddie huffs a tired laugh, folding an arm behind his head and stretching out as Venom pours over him like a blanket. He settles to take a brief laugh. “Maybe give me a bit of time to recharge, love. You wore me out.”   The last thing he feels is Venom squeezing him before falling asleep to the patter of rain against the window, feeling more content, safe and loved than he’s felt ever before.

  The French like their big, dramatic gestures, right? John surely hopes so, as he's walking down the corridor to Sherlock's office. Today, the teacher made it quite clear that attending the workshop would be a good idea in order to practice presenting their songs for next week. Which means that there will be an audience for John. Well, maybe it's better that way, it would have been a tad creepy if they would have been alone and he had started singing at a not-very interested Sherlock. Or maybe it's not, because John's singing is not something he would call good, and singing badly in a language he pronounces badly in front of a crowd might be the most humiliating experience of all time. He should be fine, he tells himself. He practised the whole week. Literally. When his neighbours would start yelling at him in return, John would retreat to the shower to keep on singing. He did not choose the easiest song, either, but, well, he won't half-ass this. Not this time. For Sherlock. Right. He steps into the small office, the first to arrive. "Hey Sherlock," he says, finally pronouncing his name in a normal way. Sherlock smiles, although it seems a bit forced. "Bonjour, John. Tu peux t'asseoir." [Hi John. You can sit down.] John smiles in return, and sits down, pulling his two bags with him. He's not sure what to say, how to apologise about being slow and not understanding that Sherlock had invited him on a date. But how to say that in French? "Jeu—" Sherlock raises his head, but they're interrupted as Wilkes enters the room, followed by Sarah and a friend, and then Greg and Molly. John looks down at his lap, waiting for the others to sit down and for the chatter to end. Once he's beside him, Greg elbows him, and gives him a pointed look. Their last conversation was over the phone on Saturday night, as Greg was urging him to do something about Sherlock. John told him he was working on it. He didn't tell him exactly what he was working on, because Greg would have laughed. Or probably suggested an easier way to make Sherlock forgive him, like inviting him for a coffee or something like that. But it's Sherlock. He can't just invite him for coffee. John only answers with a shrug, and looks up when Sherlock starts talking. "Bonjour à tous. Madame Bouchard m'a prévenu que vous travaillez sur un projet de chanson, que vous allez présenter la semaine prochaine. Vous avez donc l'occasion aujourd'hui de faire une générale pour vous préparer. Pour votre plus grand malheur et pour le mien. Enfin. J'espère que vous avez amené votre musique, personne n'utilise mon ordinateur. Vous trouveriez un moyen de tout faire sauter rien qu'en le touchant." [Hi everyone. Mrs Bouchard told me that you are working on a song project, which you are presenting next week. Today, you have the occasion to practise it to prepare yourselves. Quite unfortunate, for you as well as for me. Anyway. I hope you brought your own music, nobody touches my laptop. You'd find a way of breaking everything only by touching it.] Nobody moves. "Allez," [let's go,] Sherlock urges them with a wave of his hand. "Hooper et Lestrade, vous commencez." [Hooper and Lestrade, you start.] John smiles to Greg, who stands up, a bit unsure. Molly gets the music from her phone and puts it on the table. "All right," Greg starts, before he clears his throat. "Nous praysentons une chanson de Mika. Err—" [We are presenting a song from Mika. Err—] "Elle s'appelle Grace Kelly," [It's called Grace Kelly,] Molly concludes. She presses on play, and they start singing. The song is too high-pitched for Greg and way too fast for them to be able to pronounce the words properly, but they perform a cute little karaoke duo, faking microphones and looking at each other. John cheers, and assures Greg that it was great when he comes to sit back at his place. Next, Sarah and her friend perform some sort of dramatic song which might or might not be from Céline Dion, John wouldn't know, and they're quite good too. God, he's really going to make a fool of himself, isn't he? After that, Wilkes, without Anderson as his usual partner, sings something that vaguely sounds like a Stromae song. John can't understand a thing, but he doubts it's because of his lack of French skills. A bit re-energised after this poor performance, he stands up when he understands that it's finally his turn. He gets one of his bags, shaped like a tennis racquet, and unzips it to reveal a ukulele. He can feel Greg frowning in his back as he sits down again. Yeah, okay, he might have learned this week a few chords on the ukulele as well, but grand gesture means grand, doesn't it? Mike was okay with teaching him, and lending him the instrument for his little show. And the song is only a few different chords, not that John chose it for its easiness. No, John chose it after thinking about it for forty-eight hours straight. He went through whole Youtube sections, discovered bands, wondering if he should use a French song from the movie he saw with Sherlock. What type of music does he like, exactly? When John had asked himself the question, he remembered that Sherlock did mention that he liked classical music, during one of those workshop conversations. But classical music wasn't getting him very far, unless John wanted to sing an opera aria, which he specifically did not. He could do something more classical, though. A love song, but nothing too cheesy, too intense for what it is right now. And then, he had found. It seemed perfect to him, but would Sherlock like it? John is about to find out. He clears his throat one final time, raising the ukulele to his chest, remembering the first chord. After one final look at Sherlock, he starts: "Des yeux qui font baisser les miens Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche Voilà le portrait sans retouches De l'homme auquel j'appartiens…" He looks up, his fingers playing on his own. Sherlock is staring at him, but looks down when their eyes meet. "Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça me fait quelque chose Il est entré dans mon cœur Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause…" He risks another look again, only to see that Sherlock is intently staring at his lap, fighting the urge to smile. "C'est toi pour moi, moi pour toi dans la vie Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie Et dès que je t'aperçois Alors je sens dans moi Mon cœur qui bat…" He ends the song with a last few chords, and lets the ukulele down. A silence. He looks up. Did he blow it that much? He thought he was pretty good himself! After what seems to be a small eternity, Greg shoves his hand in John's back. "Man, never thought you knew how to play the ukulele!" John smiles. "Ah, it's one of my many hidden talents." He turns on his chair, the ukulele still on his lap. Greg's eyes are blown wide, Molly is smiling with that little expression one has at the end of cheesy Hallmark movies, and even Sarah and her friend seem impressed. A loud sound makes him turn again on his chair, to see that Sherlock has stood up abruptly. "Thehoursisupnowso— pardon, euh— vous pouvez… quitter." [Sorry, err— you can all… leave.] Wilkes, Sarah and her friend stare strangely at Sherlock, whose ears have been red for the past five minutes now. Greg squeezes John's shoulder one final time, and stands up with the rest of the people. John takes his sweet time, putting the ukulele away gently back in its case, a tugging his two bags on the table. Once he sees that everyone has left, except for Sherlock who is apparently busy with searching something amongst the papers on his desk, he stands in front of him. "Sherlock?" "Oui?" Sherlock asks, his head going up and his face wearing a casual expression, as if he just realised that John was still there. His ears, though, are still delightfully pink. "Lexi Cinema," John says, grinning. "Vendredi. Hhhuit hhheures." [Friday. Eight o'clock.] "O— okay." John smiles one more time and takes his bags. When he closes the door behind him, Sherlock has still not found what he was searching for.    

Marinette sighed quietly as she watched Adrien pose for one of his latest photoshoots. He had invited her to watch one over the weekend and of course, she had accepted. A chance to see Adrien model in beautiful clothes was a dream come true! Especially when every few minutes his eyes would glance over to her and he’d make a funny face. His eyes would roll or he’d stick his tongue out and every time she’d giggle, making her own face back at him. Unfortunately, a little later into the photoshoot an intern tripped, managing to spill an iced coffee all over Adrien’s shirt. As the intern profusely apologized Adrien’s team swooped in, immediately pulling him out of the cameras. Marinette gnawed on her lip nervously as she watched him get pulled back into the hair-and-makeup tent. She shuffled uncomfortably outside, her eyes glancing about nervously as she thought about what to do when minutes later another intern approached her, “Excuse me but are you Marinette?” “Yeah, that’s me. Why?” her head tilted curiously as she looked at the young blonde in front of her. “Adrien requested your presence. He said that you’d probably be the best to help solve our little problem.” Marinette’s eyes widened to the size of saucers before she nodded her head reluctantly. There was no way she was going to turn down an opportunity like this! She didn’t know what she was doing, but she could definitely give it a shot. Peeking into the tent, she saw Adrien sitting around as a swarm of people rushed about. Walking cautiously in, she cleared her throat to grab her friend’s attention, “Adrien, why did you need me?” His head whipped around when he heard her, his green eyes lighting up at the sight of her, “Marinette!” he chirped cheerfully, coming towards her, “I’m so glad you’re here!” He continued to speak but all she could hear was the ringing in her ears. Adrien stood in front of her shirtless. Shirtless ! How was she supposed to function when he looked like this ! Marinette would have sworn steam came billowing out of her ears as her face lit up. “So are you up for it?” she tuned back in when he grinned brightly at her. “Um, for what exactly?” Marinette gave him a wobbly smile, trying to keep her gaze firmly on his eyes. Adrien frowned for a brief second before he pointed over her shoulder, “For that.” She turned around with a furrowed brow before she spotted a clothes rack that had just been wheeled in in front of her, “Y-you want me to pick out your clothes for the shoot?!” her head whipped around to look at him panickedly. “Yeah,” he came over to slip an arm around her shoulders and that was really not helping her to keep her cool, “I told them you’re a stylist and were the best choice for the job.” “Adrien, t-thank you but a-are you sure you want me to do this? What if I screw it up?” Marinette leaned in to whisper to him conspiratorially. “I trust you,” his beam widened before he winked cheekily at her. Her heart beat faster and she practically felt her legs give out underneath her before she regained her composure. Adrien trusted her! She could do this! Rubbing her hands together she marched over to the clothes rack, shuffling through the large pile of clothes before she settled on an outfit. Turning back around, she handed the clothes to Adrien, giving him a swift nod, “This is perfect! I swear both you and the audience will love it! The deep green in this is guaranteed to bring out your eyes!” “Great choice, Marinette! I love it,” the blonde clutched the clothes to his chest before he ducked away, presumably to get changed. Marinette stood rooted for a few seconds before she shook her head quickly, stepping out of the tent as she gulped in a few breaths of fresh air. With another quick shake of her head, she returned to the spot she had been standing in previously. When Adrien came back fully dressed, he shot her another bright smile which made her feel woozy. He looked amazing ! Knowing that he was wearing clothes that she had picked out made her heart practically flutter in her chest! She sighed dreamily as she watched him get situated and started posing once again. A voice interrupted her from her daydreams however, “He looks great, doesn’t he?” Her eyes flicked over to the woman standing next to her, “O-oh, I-I mean yes, but Adrien always looks amazing!” “Yes, but you picked out this specific outfit for him, didn’t you?” the lady’s head tilted over to Adrien before returning her gaze. “Y-yeah, I did. I-I’m sorry if it looks bad. He asked me for help and I thought I’d give it a shot. I’m usually more of a designer then a stylist,” Marinette smiled shyly at the woman. “You could have fooled me,” she chuckled before sticking out her hand, “My name’s Kate and I don’t think your choice looks bad. On the contrary, I think it looks perfect. I came over here to introduce myself. You see I’m one of the head stylists at Gabriel and I wanted to see if you were looking for a summer internship.” “I-I would love one!” she practically jumped at the opportunity to shake Kate’s hand, “A chance to work at Gabriel would be amazing!” “Well, I know Adrien loves having you here. He does some of his best work with you around,” the woman winked at her as Marinette’s cheeks colored, “I’m certain the more you’re around, the better our shoots will be and that makes everyone happy. It’ll be a lot of hard work though if you’re up for it?” “Yes, yes of course! I’d love to!” she tried to lower her voice to keep it from squealing but it was difficult. Kate chuckled, her eyes glimmering at her curiously, “Just keep showing up and you’ve got yourself an internship.” “Thank you so so much!” Marinette called, waving at her as Kate turned to go, shouting something at one of the interns. “What was that about?” Adrien’s voice peeped up from behind her shoulder. Marinette squealed, throwing herself into his arms in a large hug, “I think I just got an internship because you let me pick out your clothes! Thank you so much, Adrien!” The boy grinned and she suddenly realized where she was. Clearing her throat, she attempted to back away before Adrien’s grip around her tightened, squeezing her as he hugged her back, “That’s great, Marinette! But it was your work that got you here! Don’t forget that!” “I won’t! But thank you again for the opportunity, Adrien,” she tilted her head up to look into Adrien’s happy, sparkling emerald eyes.  “You’re welcome, Marinette,” he squeezed her tighter and she let her eyes flutter closed, feeling completely safe in Adrien’s arms.

Okay, here’s the thing. James Potter doesn’t want to sign the offer. He doesn’t. His hand isn’t shaking because he’s afraid, all right? It’s shaking because if it were actually physically possible to choke on self-loathing, he would be doing that right now. James knows himself, perhaps a little too well, and he’s not a good person. James Potter is as petty as he is smart, as vindictive as he is creative, and as selfish as he is loving. Those last two go particularly well together. Nothing brings out the darkness inside him like love. Other people claim they would do anything for the people they love; he actually will, no matter how immoral or socially unacceptable it might be. “James is always right,” he tells himself. He’s told himself that as long as he’s understood the concept of self and other things and people being his. Which, yeah, is pretty much his entire life. He was a precocious brat, picking up things years ahead of time, because normal is boring and James is not boring. But stupid, no matter how many times Snivellus calls him that, is a lie. If James wants to keep his loved ones safe in the coming war, and he wants nothing more right now—his greedy heart is full of three people: Sirius, Mum, and Dad—he needs to sign and submit the offer, well, request. Sure, he’ll have to wait for a confirmation, but that’s just a formality. No one turns down a Potter seeking a Master in Potions to oversee his or her apprenticeship. Potters are the best of the best of the best worldwide when it comes to potioneering. His family wealth is built on centuries of potions that shaped the wizarding world, both frivolous and deadly. “Normally, I’d apprentice under Dad, but—” One scrawl of his name on the blasted parchment would keep the Dark Lord from visiting Potter Manor. A Master is magically bound to protect the Apprentice; it is equally impossible for a Master to harm an Apprentice’s family members. It is all magical honor, blah, blah, trust and loyalty, and all that rot. “Ugh!” James screams. The quill in his hand snaps from the pressure. He drops it on the floor with a huff and snatches up another. “He better have some recipes I can steal and improve,” he grumbles as he grudgingly jots his name on the request. Before he can change his mind, James ties it to his eagle owl. Its name is Charon, because living with him can be as painful as the underworld . . . and it amuses him to see Mudbloods freaking out over the name. Evans still accuses him of being twisted and morbid. “Take it to Lord Slytherin,” James orders. “What did you do?” Sirius Charlus Potter asks from where he leans against the bedroom door. The scar across his neck can only be seen by someone below him, as James is in his seat at his writing desk. It’s where James bled Sirius dry over the Potter ward stone three Summers past in a forbidden ritual to adopt him as a twin brother. The Slytherins have been leery of him ever since; he loves it. James doesn’t have to be Sacred Twenty-Eight to outthink and overpower them. His blood is just as pure; and he dares anyone to claim his family magic is weak. If Cantankerus Nott weren’t still throwing a tantrum because Fleamont Potter snubbed Nott’s sister, it would be the Sacred Twenty-Nine, and his family would be in the top three. No matter how messed up they are, or perhaps because of how demented they are, Gaunts and Blacks aren’t to be dismissed. “I bought us seven years,” James says. “Tell me you didn’t—” Sirius groans and buries his head in his hands. “Of course, you did.” He shakes his head and focuses. “And what’re you gonna do when the seven years are up, Prongs?” “I figure he’ll have conquered Britain by then,” James says with a careless shrug. It’ll be sad if certain people die—he isn’t entirely heartless; James does have some favorite people, after all. Some of them he even respects. “The Dark Lord’s as possessive as Merlin, James. He bloody well Brands his followers like they’re pets with ‘return to owner’ charms.” Sirius steps closer, as if physical distance can keep someone safe; they both know better than that. “If your magic is tied to his for seven years, he’s not going to let you just leave when your time as his Apprentice is served.” “I’m counting on it,” James says, pasting on the smirk that sends Hogwarts students, even those he nominally considers friends, cowering away from him. “Mordred,” Sirius swears, gape-mouthed and wide-eyed. “Everyone knows he can’t have kids because of the filthy Muggles. You’re setting yourself up as his heir. Prongs that’s . . .” “Genius?” James pats himself on the back. “Mental. Absolutely mental,” Sirius corrects. But it’s only seconds before he’s entirely on-board the Potter Train Of Insanity, as always. “And bloody genius!” He claps his hands on James’s shoulders and shakes him while cackling. “Merlin, just imagine the Slytherins on their knees before you! Snivellus as your personal lackey! Oh, and pureblood witches being thrown at you left and right. You could sample all their kisses and their dads wouldn’t dare complain, for fear you would reject them. It’s brilliant, Prongsie! Better than the time we poisoned all the Ravenclaws the day before exams because we were bored.” James fails to keep a straight face. “Those things might’ve occurred to me.” His lips twitch as he imagines kissing as many birds as he wants without getting called out for it. Oh, he could easily wallop the witches’ brothers, but some of their fathers know more Dark Magic than he does. It’s something he figures the Dark Lord will insist he perfect, though it will technically be a Potions Apprenticeship. He lost all desire for Evans when the Mudblood showed interest in Snivellus; he refuses to be second choice to someone that pathetic and disgusting. His mum’s right, as always. Muggles and all their offspring are scum and beneath his notice . . . unless he needs test subjects for his newest experimental potion. Then, well, animals are fair game; why shouldn’t Muggles be? And if all this means he might be able to keep Malfoy’s sister, when the prat won’t let anyone not of the Sacred Twenty-Eight even speak to her, well, that’s between him and his daydreams of a witch worthy of his bed. If she’s as perfect as she seems, she might even be blessed to end up with his family crest on her hand. Varinia Malfoy isn’t an eyesore, that’s for sure. And if she’s as subservient as she appears, he wants her. Evans taught him firsthand that defiance in a witch is disgusting. “Oh, Prongsie, this is momentous!” Sirius cheers, before spinning in a circle like he’s modeling the latest wizarding fashions on the runway of Paris. That’s so two Summers ago. But so worth it. The witches on the continent are a lot more free with their lips. James lost count of how many he and Sirius worked their way through once they hit the five-hundred mark. “Think of all we have to gain!” James is, for sure. Dad told him he could have whatever he wanted when he was three years old. He clings to that truth. James’s father has never lied to him. But he is more concerned, at the moment, with what he won’t have to lose: Mum, Dad, and Padfoot. Once their safety is guaranteed, he’ll turn his attention to greedily latching onto everything he wants that has been denied him. And he won’t stop until he’s satisfied. James has never been satisfied a day in his life. He believes this is something he and the Dark Lord have in common. Satisfaction comes at the end of something; wizards of power and prestige are never, ever finished. There’s so much “more” in the world. James wants all of it. (o) It’s been twenty-four hours, and James hasn’t received an affirmative response yet. He’s never been so offended in his entire life. Not even when a nasty Hufflepuff half-blood suddenly kissed him in Hogsmeade fifth-year in order to warn off a pureblood she should’ve been grateful was interested in her. “What is taking so long?” James screams. He casts a spell at his dueling target that splits it from its greasy black wig all the way to the bottom of its ragged trousers. Oh, if only Snivellus were really here, he’d—” “He still hasn’t replied?” Sirius asks, pajama pants low on his hips as he rubs at his eyes. It’s almost 4:00 p.m. They’re on London Pureblood Schedule. It’s another round of extravagant parties and dinners every night. They didn’t get home from the Crouch’s Concerto until after the sun had already risen for the day. “That’s preposterous, Prongsie!” “I know!” James shakes. The Dark Lord should be bloody honored that James entertained the idea of asking him, let alone sent the offer. He has received no less than eight hundred and sixty-four requests to apprentice him since he graduated from Hogwarts two weeks past. Not only is he a Potter, but he is the Potter Heir. “Well, let’s go out, then,” Sirius says. “You’re not going to wait around for him like a lovesick witch hoping her suitor will call if she stays home all day.” James snorts at the image. “The Poisoned Apple?” He knows as he speaks that Sirius will agree with him; Sirius always agrees with him, even before they were death-blooded twins. Sirius smirks. “Of course. I’m not in the mood to wear a mask and pretend I’m Prince Charming. Neither are you. The Golden Fleece is obviously out, Prongs. Just give me ten minutes and I’ll be presentable.” Scoffing, James says, “Padfoot, you’ve never gotten ready in ten minutes in your life.” “Watch me!” True to form, it’s over thirty minutes before Sirius saunters out of the bedroom across from James’s. And that’s with him hurrying. James once waited two hours and twelve minutes for Sirius to get ready. If anyone else tried that, James would curse them for wasting his time and an obscene lack of punctuality. Then he would act as if they never existed for this rest of his life. But this is Sirius. James will do absolutely anything for his twin brother. They’re wearing almost the exact same thing: dragon-hide trousers, dragon-hide boots, and the sleeveless robes that are all the rage in wizarding Italy. They button like Imperial Wizarding Russia’s militia hit-wizard squad uniform, then split into front and back coattails. The only difference is that Sirius’s robes has the Potter crest over his heart, whereas the Potter crest takes up the entire back of James’s robes. “Well, let’s go,” Sirius says, as if he hasn’t kept James waiting. He smirks and Disapparates. Laughing, James waits a full thirty seconds and then follows him. He lands behind Sirius, whose wand is just slipping back into the left wrist holster. The room’s safe. Sirius has insisted on inspecting rooms before James enters them since they first met; he’s only become more insistent on it since James adopted him. Of course, if anyone ever harms Sirius while James is humoring him and letting him play Paladin, James will destroy the instigator’s family and rip their ancestral magic from them to absorb it into his own. The youngest Fawley daughter sits not far away with a horde of younger pureblood daughters. She blushes at the sight of him and peers up at him through her eyelashes. Sirius snickers at him, and it’s only a lifetime of etiquette lessons that allows James to nod an acknowledgement to her. Evans put him off red hair for life. That being said, James and Sirius deserve beautiful company. So James holds out his arm, while asking Sirius, “Food?” Sirius holds out his arm as well. “Food.” Though all he allows on his face is a smile, James guffaws in his head as single pureblood witches rush as quickly as propriety will allow them to latch onto his and Sirius’s arms. There’s a crack of Apparation behind him, and he fights to hold in a snicker as witches’ faces fall all over the room when a small hand immediately curls around his forearm and another claims Sirius. Isolth Montague smirks at Sirius. With her dark skin and golden eyes, she’s easily one of the standout beauties in the room. But the reason his breath is caught in his throat is because Varinia Malfoy’s touching him. She’s a Malfoy whose heritage bred true: white hair and silver eyes, petite, but with curves he could worship for a lifetime. “Heiress Malfoy,” James says, after a quick peek over his shoulder. Lucius isn’t with her, just Thelonia Nott, so he can get away with talking to her. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for a light repast?” Varinia smiles and nods. James’s heart pounds in his chest as he leads the way to his favorite dining hall in The Poisoned Apple. The murmur of Sirius speaking with Isolth and Thelonia, who took Sirius’s other arm, is mere background noise. Though Varinia never speaks a word to him throughout the meal, the conversation is anything but one-sided. He’s made sure to word every question so that she can nod or shake her head in answer. Four times she’s blushed for him, and twice she’s muffled laughter with her hands. When they’re lingering over tea two hours later, James leans closer to her and says, “I’d be honored if you’d call me James.” It’s not an intimate pet name, but it’s closer than he’s allowed most other witches. She’ll be the fourth outside his family with the right to use his given name. It’s not what he wants her to whisper in his ear before allowing him to kiss her senseless, but he knows how Lucius shelters her, and he doesn’t want to scare her away by being too forward too quickly. Her lips part. “Ja—” A hands covers her mouth; Varinia’s skin pales almost as white as her hair. James’s gaze snaps upward and locks on Lucius, who looks utterly terrified. He’s trembling; James honestly won’t be surprised if he collapses. “Please forgive her, Heir Potter,” Lucius begs. It’s quiet, but James knows sincere begging when he hears it; he’s a connoisseur of groveling. He’s lost count of how many people have begged him and Sirius for a reprieve from pranks or punishments or James’s boredom. “You make her feel safe. She forgot she . . . please forgive her.” The rest of the table is unnaturally silent, especially given Sirius is sitting just three chairs away. Sirius is rarely quiet; when he is, chaos waits in the wings. “Let her finish,” James orders, heart racing. Because he has an idea of why she’s so quiet, and it’s enthralling. With one syllable from her lips, possessive want surged through his body, and not for the reason Lucius fears. “Heir Potter, please—” James glares at Lucius. He loathes being denied what he wants. Oh, he always gets what he wants in the end, but the slightest delay is intolerable. He’s worthy of everything. His magical legacy is immeasurable; not being included in the Sacred Twenty-Eight means less than nothing. His mother Euphemia is barren; James was born of Magic. He’s not weak. “I didn’t master Occlumency, Lucius. I lorded it,” James says, jaw set. “Let her finish.” “Your word she and my family will suffer no ill repercussions, Heir Potter.” Lucius’s voice is just as implacable, but twice as terrified as before. “My word.” James turns his full attention to Varinia as Lucius’s hand slides around to cup the back of his sister’s head. She’s biting her lower lip while tears trickle down her cheeks. “Please finish what you were going to say.” Varinia shakes her head and stares at her lap, where her hands have wrinkled her robes by clutching them. James clasps her nearest hand with one of his own and brings it to his lips. Instead of stopping just above her hand, as is proper, he kisses her bare knuckles. As he expects, her eyes snap up and lock on his. “Finish what you were going to say, Lady Varinia, or I’m going to assume it was a request for magical sanctuary and take you home with me for one-hundred and eleven days.” Her blushes make her even more beautiful. “Please call me Ava, James.” It’s barely more than a whisper, but James feels the magic of it down to his bones. He wants with a fierceness he has never felt in his life. His grandfather captured and bonded with a Selkie. He has second cousins living in France that are Dark Veela. He has a first cousin who bonded with a Lycaon, and even has a pet werewolf of his own. But no Potter, ever, has stolen away a Syren. Lucius is right to guard her so fiercely, though foolish to assume James would ever accuse her of ensnaring him with her voice. She’s in no danger of Azkaban or execution from him. Ava. James rolls the intimate pet name through his mind. He doesn’t know if she meant to speak it or not, but he’s going to take advantage of it. She’s shown clear preference. He wants to gloat, to laugh his triumph to all the purebloods who desire her. Because intentional or not, Varinia erred. He speaks to Lucius, though his eyes don’t stray from Varinia’s face. Through strength of will alone, he keeps his eyes from perusing her body, which now belongs to him. “I’m keeping your sister, Heir Malfoy.” James expects a violent protest. He doesn’t get one. Lucius’s shoulders sag. “Oh, thank Merlin.” He places his hands on Varinia’s shoulders and kisses her hair, before straightening. He stands tall and firm, as if he were Atlas and just set the whole world on someone else’s shoulders, knowing he would never have to take the burden up again. It irritates James, because a Syren is not a burden; she’s an exquisite treasure. “I’ll head to Gringotts directly and transfer her dowry into your vault.” James nods, though he wants to laugh until his lungs burn. He has a Syren bride. The most coveted pureblood witch in Wizarding Britain belongs to him. Not only that, but Lucius is paying him to take her. James had been fully prepared to offer an exorbitant amount of money as a bride price. This is, without a doubt, the best business transaction he’s ever made in his eighteen years of life. He kisses her palm and laces his fingers through hers. “Come, Ava. I’ll give you a tour of your new home.” Dad and Mum are going to be extremely proud of him.

"They didn't believe him." Izuku is... almost numb at the revelation.  He'd spent the entire break, since that day Kacchan had watched as Izuku's dad fucked him on that crowded train, had watched as Izuku came from it, waiting for the police to come. Because that's what was supposed to happen, right? That's what all his teachers had taught them, when they were younger. That any adult that touched a kid like that was bad and that they should tell an adult immediately.  That had been back when Izuku was a lot younger, back when he was excited every day to go home after school and help his daddy feel good. He might not have a quirk but that didn't mean he was useless, not like all the other kids said. And when his teachers had first told them it was bad, Izuku hadn't believed them, because how could it be? His daddy loved him, took such good care of him, and always made sure that Izuku felt just as good. Something like that couldn't be bad, could it? But his daddy was always telling him not to tell, to keep it their little secret, to never let mommy find out, and... maybe it was that bad after all.  But it always felt so good, even when his dad got a bit too rough, even when he left Izuku aching and unable to sit afterwards.  And so, even when he started to doubt, Izuku never said anything. Because his dad loved him, really loved him, and showered him with the attention and praise he never got from anyone else anymore. Even his mom, who he loved with his whole heart, was usually too busy with her work to spend much time with him. So, even after he'd come to the conclusion that it was wrong, what they were doing, he couldn't quite find the resolve to stop.  He'd thought it was game over when his dad started touching him - started fucking him - while his mom was home, in the same room even, but she acted like she never noticed a thing. And Izuku was usually too out of it to know if that was true or not. Either way, she never said anything, never stopped them, no matter how daring his dad got.  (He'd almost fallen out of his chair the night his dad had reached over, all casual, and proceeded to stroke Izuku's dick under the table, all while his mother sat right there. They'd even continued talking, like everything was fine, like nothing at all was happening. And he couldn't even cover his mouth to stop the noises, had to bite his lip and clamp down hard on the urge to moan. He'd come right there, with his mom seated right across from him, and she hadn't batted an eye.) So, maybe his mom really was that oblivious or maybe she knew and, like Izuku, just didn't know what to do about it and so did nothing.  Kacchan, though, was different. Kacchan wanted to be a hero, was going to be the best hero, better than even All Might. So, of course he'd tell someone, right? There was no way he wouldn't! Except, the summer had passed and no one had come knocking. There were no police, no worried neighbors, not even Kacchan's parents had stopped by. And all the while, his dad had continued taking him around the house, whether his mom was home or not, like he wasn't at all afraid of being caught anymore.  Maybe he wasn't. And maybe he had good reason not to be.  Because Kacchan had told somebody. He'd told their teacher, when they all got back from break, and Izuku's dad had gotten called in for a meeting and then... nothing. His dad had denied it all, laughed it off as a very inappropriate call for attention, and Izuku's teacher had agreed. Had even scolded Kacchan for lying, hadn't budged even when Kacchan exploded in fury over not being believed.  And then his dad was taking him home without so much as a suspicious look, without Izuku's teacher even seeming to care.  His dad hummed, the way he always did when his thoughts were elsewhere. With the way his hand was rubbing at the the back of Izuku's neck, fingers dipping under the collar of his shirt, Izuku was pretty sure he knew just where those thoughts were heading.  "They probably did believe him," his dad shrugged at Izuku's wide-eyed look. "But, to them, what's more important? A man who has a stable, well-paying job, a wife, a life, or a quirkless child with no value to society?" And Izuku flinches, the way he always does when someone throws his condition in his face like that. And he feels betrayed, almost, because his dad never has before.  But, he's not wrong. Izuku can see exactly why his teacher would overlook something like this, just because Izuku was quirkless. After all, they all said bullying was bad, too, didn't they? And yet none of them stepped in, no matter how beat up Izuku got, even when it happened right in front of them.  The world wasn't fair and not all men were born equal. Izuku had known that since he was four and nothing so far had proved him wrong. This was just one more piece of evidence.  Still... did that mean that, because it was him, it wasn't wrong? That what he was doing with his dad every day was okay? Kacchan didn't seem to think so, not if the epic fit he'd thrown meant anything, but that could have just as easily been because he hadn't gotten his way. Izuku probably had nothing to even do with the way he'd insisted he was telling the truth.  His dad pulled Izuku to a stop, interrupting his thoughts by grabbing him by the shoulders and crouching down until they were eye to eye, "You know I don't care about that, right? You're my baby boy, Izukkun, and I'm always going to love you, quirk or not. You're absolutely perfect to me." And then his dad was kissing him, gently, right there in the middle of the empty street. Houses lined both sides and anyone could be looking out their window, anyone could be seeing them, and still his dad kissed him so softly, still looked at him with so much love.  This was why Izuku had never told anyone, not even his mom, no matter how wrong he thought it might be.  The gesture was chaste, could almost be construed as completely platonic, and still it left Izuku feeling ready to burst, flushed all the way through. When his dad stepped back, Izuku followed, mindless and panting, because his dad loved him, and all that praise had always gone straight to his little cock.  His dad laughed at whatever face he was making, amused, and ruffled his hair before sweeping him off his feet. Izuku didn't protest, didn't even argue that his was old enough to walk on his own like he usually would. Just wrapped his arms and legs around his daddy, hid his face in his neck, and rutted as much as he was able. It didn't even matter to him anymore that they were in public.  After all, his mom never said anything. His teacher hadn't said anything, had even ignored Kacchan saying it, so it had to be fine, right?  Izuku was quirkless, so the rules didn't apply to him. He could have this pleasure and not feel guilty because it wasn't wrong. Not for him.  "So eager," his daddy groaned, and Izuku could just barely feel his erection pressing up against his ass. Even after all these years, his daddy was still so big compared to him, in every way. Sometimes that scared him, like that time he and mom had been fighting and he'd taken Izuku bent over the desk with almost no preparation. But even then, it always felt good. Even then, Izuku had come all over the homework he'd been working on all week long. "Want to fuck you right here. Is that what you want, baby? Wanna give the neighbors a show?" Izuku moaned. He still wasn't all that sure about having a stranger's eyes on him when they did this but his daddy seemed to love it, seemed to love taking Izuku in front of others and claiming him, in every way, which meant that Izuku couldn't hate it. And usually he got too lost in how good it felt to really care for long, anyway.  "Or maybe we can go home and fuck right in front of mama, how about that? She's been waiting so long, Zuku. She always knows when I fuck you, cleans up the mess you leave behind with her tongue." And Izuku didn't know that, but maybe it made sense. After all, he always came, sometimes over and over, and his daddy never stuck around to clean it up. Someone had to, right?  So, that meant his mom really had known this entire time.  "C'mon, baby, almost home," his dad was walking faster now and the increased friction had Izuku's eyes rolling up into his head. It wasn't all that comfortable, the fabric of his pants too stiff, but his underwear was already soaked through which eased the way just enough to feel good.  He really hoped his mom did know, because otherwise Izuku wasn't going to be able to hide the wet patch. Maybe he could say he'd had an accident? But that was beyond embarrassing. He was nine, not a baby! He'd lost focus, at some point, and it seemed like between one blink and the next his daddy was closing the door behind them, slamming Izuku against it, and barely waiting long enough to rip his pants off before he was shoving all the way in and Izuku was coming with a yelp.  "Yeah, that's it," his dad moaned, loud and long, not bothering to muffle either of them. Today was his mom's day off, she had to be home. Maybe it was early enough that she was still asleep? Maybe she'd been called in, the way she often was?  Or maybe his dad had just given up on the entire charade.  "Fuck, Izuku, so good, such a good boy, my perfect baby boy, fuck."  Izuku's eyes were rolling up, his dad hitting that spot inside that made lights burst in his brain over and over, and he was saying something, slurring it really, but he had no idea what. Encouragements, probably, or maybe he was begging. It didn't matter, because whatever it was, it had his dad hammering into him, hard enough to make the door rattle and Izuku was screaming, so far passed caring who heard him.  It felt so good, always felt so good, and he could have this. For him, this was right.  "Gonna fill you up, you want that? You want daddy to come inside? Carry you over to the couch, keep you plugged up? We can watch tv while you warm my cock and I can just use you, over and over, whenever I want, stuff you until you puke. You remember that, baby? Want to use you like that again, knot you up, piss in you so everyone knows you're mine. Maybe we can take the train and I'll sit you right down on my cock, let everyone see how well you take me. Daddy's little whore, that's what you are. All mine." It was pure filth, what his daddy was spewing into his ears, and Izuku wanted all of it.  (He remembered that time his daddy was talking about. He'd been half-out of it the whole time, fucked until nothing even seemed real anymore, and he'd been so sore afterwards, hadn't been able to walk for days. He remembered being scared, at the time, with how out of his mind his dad had seemed. They'd fucked hard and fast before but his dad had seemed frantic and then he'd just kept going no matter how many times he came inside Izuku. It'd burned on it's way up and every time his dad had pounded in, more had come out of his mouth. And then he'd felt the warmth of his own father pissing in him and it had been disgusting. But, shamefully, some part of him had still liked it. It was coming from his daddy, after all.) "Please, please, please," he found himself chanting, louder and louder, and then he was wailing as he came again, even as his daddy never once slowed down, not that he expected him to. Instead, he kept right on fucking and it was so much, almost too much, and Izuku felt like he was going to black out. His head was emptying of everything except the warm weight of his dad crushing his against the door and the hot, throbbing length that was drilling insistently right into his prostate. He felt like he was melting, like his brain was turning into mush.  His daddy always said his eyes glazed over when he got like this, like Izuku wasn't even there, like his body was just reacting, and that was almost exactly what it felt like. There were no thoughts in his head beyond more, more, more, please, more.  And then his daddy was bucking his hips and filling Izuku with a big, warm load and he was hoping his daddy kept his word, that he carried Izuku to the couch to watch tv while never once pulling out, wanted his daddy to use him again and again until his stomach bloated out the way it sometimes did. He wanted to spend the whole day feeling good like this.  He didn't know what caught his attention - how anything could catch his attention right now - but Izuku found himself looking up and over his daddy's broad shoulder while he pumped into Izuku's body over and over and there, almost hidden around the corner, stood his mother. Her eyes were glazed over, too, her mouth open and practically drooling, and her hand was shoved down her skirt and moving frantically.  Their eyes met for only a second before Izuku was convulsing, coming with the thought that his mom had just watched his daddy pound him into the front door and had enjoyed it, that the sight of it had made her feel just as good as it made them feel.  When he was able to open his eyes again, was able to string enough coherent thoughts together to look, his mom was gone, but that was okay. He could spend the day with his daddy knowing that she felt good, too.  And who knew? Maybe later they could even get her to join.  Inko wakes up that morning expecting the day to be normal. As normal as it can be, at least, considering her family. She's not at all surprised when Hisashi offers to get Izuku up and ready for school, insisting that Inko enjoy the rare opportunity to sleep in. She passes the time instead fantasizing about just how her husband went about waking their baby boy up. She doesn't hear any sounds coming from the other room, not even that of the headboard banging against the wall, so it really is all left up to her own imagination.  Not an hour after Izuku leaves for school, the phone in the kitchen rings and Hisashi is coming to tell her that their son's teacher needs to meet with one of them. She wishes she could be surprised by this but she isn't. The kids in her son's class had learned fairly quickly that they could blame anything they wanted on the quirkless kid and their teachers wouldn't bat an eye. If it weren't for the fact that she already knew almost no high school accepted quirkless children, she'd be worried about his marred record tarnishing his future. As it is, his "defect" does that well enough all on it's own. No college will ever accept him and, while some businesses might let him interview, the likelihood of him getting hired on as even a janitor is slim to none.  And so, she sends her husband off with a resigned sigh and a kiss, wondering just what trouble their baby's classmates could possibly pin on him that was worth a parent-teacher conference so early after break ended. She gets up, washes her face and gets dressed, and prepares herself for a day spent lazing around the house.  All that is sent to a screeching halt, of course, when she hears the front door slam hours later followed by loud, unashamed moans.  Hisashi knows that Inko knows. There's no way he doesn't. Over the course of Izuku's summer break, her husband has only been getting more and more daring. There are nights he won't even join her in bed, spending the night pounding into Izuku instead, not even checking if she's asleep yet. And she knows for a fact that he's caught her cleaning Izuku's cum off the walls and the floor with her tongue more than once. So, it's not like either of them are doing that great of a job hiding it anymore.  Still, they've never been this blatant. They usually at least start off quiet, even if Hisashi doesn't really keep up the act much anymore. Izuku, at the very least, tends to hold in his noises the best he can, still unsure about just how much his mother knows. He always looks so guilty afterwards, too, and that look alone is usually enough to have her pussy practically leaking.  This is new, though. Because Hisashi is pounding into their baby boy right there against the front door and Izuku is screaming, moaning, begging with absolutely no shame. Neither of them are even trying to hide what they're doing. And they both know that she's off today. Do they think she got called in? That she's still sleeping? Did they forget about her altogether?  As she watches them fuck from around the corner, fingers buried in her pussy and thumb rubbing at her clit frantically, she can't really bring herself to care what the reason is. Because Izuku is beautiful like this, completely giving himself over to the pleasure, and it's a sight she hasn't seen in years.  And then he's looking up, he's meeting her eyes as his father pumps him full of cum, and just the sight of her watching has her baby's eyes rolling up into his skull in ecstasy.  Inko... runs. There's no other word for it. She turns on her heel and flees because Izuku saw her. Her little boy, the baby that she gave birth to and raised, saw her fingering herself while watching him get fucked by his own father. He knows now, knows that she's known about this, that she's done nothing to stop this from happening. He might be enjoying it right now, but she's seen how hesitant he's become in the last few years, has seen the way he says no and his father does what he wants anyway. She's seen him cry at the thought of her catching them, tears of true distress, and still she's done nothing.  Even now, she's doing nothing to stop this, just stands out of sight down the hall and listens as Hisashi carries him to the couch and flips on the tv. Stays there for minutes, for hours, as the sounds of fucking start and stop, over and over, until Izuku is nothing but a babbling, begging mess desperate to come. Soon, her own legs won't hold her anymore and she's sliding to the floor, wishing she had something, anything bigger than her fingers to fuck herself with because it's not enough and she needs more.  Listening isn't enough. She's so horny, her insides absolutely throbbing with want, and she needs it. Needs it like she hasn't needed anything in her life before. Needs her husband to fuck her, to reach all those deep places that her fingers just can't, while their baby boy watches. Izuku's so small, maybe they can both fuck her at the same time. Maybe -  "Mama?"  Inko jolts, unintentionally jabbing the four fingers in her vagina farther than she has yet, and she barely has the presence of mind to realize that Izuku is standing in front of her before she's orgasming, squirting juices all over the floor as her body convulses.  When she finally gets her breath back, Izuku is still there, but he's no longer standing. Instead, he's on his knees and bent down, leaning in to get a good look at where her fingers are disappearing within her. She wants to close her legs, to hide this image away from her son, but she's still panting, still twitching from faint aftershocks, and it feels so good to have his eyes on her. "I've never seen a girl's before! It looks so much different!" Inko just listened as he was fucked over and over, has been listening to the same every day for months. She can see how bloated his stomach is, can see the cum sliding down his thighs and pooling on the floor. And yet still, somehow, he sounds so innocent.  "Does it feel good? It looks like it does. But it has to be lonely over here by yourself, right? Don't worry, I'll help you!" "Wait - Izukkun, baby, don't - " He ignores her weak protests, reaching out and touching her, poking his tiny little fingers around until they're inside her too, right next to her own, and fuck but she's going to come again.  "Like this, mama? It's kinda like mine, huh? I always feel good when daddy fingers my butt." He's looking up at her, big eyes so bright and earnest, and this is wrong, this is so, so wrong, but she can't just turn him away at this point, can she? She's known for awhile now that, if she was ever offered this, she'd be much too weak to say no.  "Like that, baby," she pants instead, shunting the guilt aside for later. Right now, she wants to come, and she wants her baby boy to be the one to get her there. "See that little nub? That's mama's dick. It's a lot smaller than yours, but it feels really good when you touch it." "I want mama to feel good!" And then he's lunging down and sealing his mouth over her clit and she's screaming, because she wasn't expecting that at all. She thought he'd play with it a bit, explore curiously, not jump right to it. He pinches it with his lips, flicks his tongue back and forth over it, and then sucks and she realizes that he truly took it to heart when she called it her dick, because she's seen him do this exact thing to her husband dozens of times.  Just like her husband, she soon loses patience with the teasing touches. She wants to come. She's pushing Izuku back onto the floor before she even really thinks about it, sits right on his face and grinds, holds him there with her thighs, and he doesn't even fight it, doesn't protest at all, just keeps sucking away at her clit like the good little boy he is until she's shaking with it and squirting all over his face, and even then he doesn't stop and she's coming again and again -  "So good, zukkun, so good for mommy, feels so good, mama's baby, just like that, coming, coming!" Inko's out of her mind, her brain turned to mush, and she can't stop her hips anymore. She's completely lost to the arousal, all she can think about is her baby's tongue and the tiny fingers he stuffs inside of her until his whole hand is jabbing in and she's clenching down around his wrist, and this is her son. She's sitting on her nine-year-old son's face while he fists her, right there in the hallway in broad daylight. She doesn't hear the footsteps or the softly spoken, "Oh?", that comes from behind her. Doesn't notice a single thing until she feels Izuku's hand being tugged gently from her only to be replaced by something infinitely more familiar.  "Are you guys having fun without me?" Hisashi asks as he rams into her, none of the gentleness she's come to expect from her husband present, but she doesn't even care because this is so much better. He begins to pump his hips immediately, forcing her forward into Izuku's face with every thrust. "That's not very nice, you know. Daddy wants to feel good, too." It's at that moment that Inko realizes that there is no stopping this. Maybe there never was. Maybe her family was always destined to end up right here, fucking each other without a single care as to who might hear them. There's no point in fighting it, probably never has been.  And so she doesn't. Inko gives in completely and lets her son and her husband guide her to orgasm once more.  The thing was: Midoriya Hisashi loved his wife. Really, truly loved her. Had since practically the first moment they met, all the way back when they were teenagers.  He'd been heading down a dark path and he knew it, then and now. He'd just always been so angry as a kid and the fire he was able to spew with just a breath didn't help. No one wanted to mess with him, not when he could burn them to cinders just by exhaling. And the teachers never wanted to step in, why would they? Hisashi had an amazingly strong quirk, after all. People flocked to him, followed him, whether out of awe at his strength or fear of his quirk, it didn't matter. All it meant was that he could do whatever he wanted.  And then he'd met Inko and something about her had just... soothed him. He couldn't get as angry anymore, not when she smiled at him, all bright sunshine and comforting warmth. She gentled his rough edges, softened his temper. She pulled him back from the edge, time and time again, and barely even seemed to realize just how much she'd saved him. He knew their classmates had expected them to fail, knew they thought Inko too innocent to keep his attention and Hisashi too harsh to keep from hurting her. One way or another, nobody had expected them to last long at all, much less passed graduation and well into their adult lives. No one expected them to get married, become settled, have a child.  And yet Hisashi never regretted it, never once looked back after Inko had given him her heart. He'd been propositioned more than once when they'd been younger and he'd never swayed from her side, never even been tempted to, not until his baby boy had looked up at him with such bright, eager eyes.  Because he loved Inko with his whole heart but she'd never made him hungry. She was soft and gentle and he'd never felt the urge to be anything less in return. Their sex life reflected that and it had never been a problem, not really. Hisashi had his fantasies, of course, but he was content with the status quo. If that was what Inko wanted, he didn't mind giving that to her. It was a sacrifice he could live with.  But then Izuku had been born, and at first, nothing had changed. He was a beautiful baby, no doubt about it, but he was just that: a baby. And that was a mentality that really should've stuck, Hisashi knew, well passed Izuku growing into a teenager. Instead, he'd barely been a toddler when Hisashi had first looked at him and wanted. Because Izuku was soft and gentle just like Inko, so innocent and pure, but there was just something about him that Hisashi wanted to... not ruin. Never ruin. Just have.  He liked to think that he wouldn't have acted on it if the opportunity hadn't been practically handed to him on a silver platter. Wanted to believe that he never would've crossed that line if his son hadn't looked up at him with so much joy at the idea of helping his daddy feel good. Even after Hisashi had lost control that first time, Izuku had only been a little wary. It had scared him, how rough Hisashi had been, but it hadn't taken much coaxing to get that pretty little mouth around him again and again. Izuku was always happy to help, especially after Hisashi started making sure it felt just as good for him.  And then he just hadn't been able to stop.  For all that they looked alike, Izuku was nothing like Inko in bed. And maybe that was Hisashi's fault, because he never pushed the boundary for more from his wife while pushing seemed to be all he did with Izuku. And his precious baby boy met his expectations every time, exceeded them. Even as just a small child, Izuku's sexual hunger seemed to match Hisashi's own. For a few years, Izuku was more than willing to fuck at any time, raring to go whenever. He'd quickly become addicted to the pleasure his father offered him and, even when he'd begun to doubt their actions, he always gave in far too quickly to even call what he put up a fight.  For all of that, though, for all that he might have hoped and dreamed and wished, Hisashi had never expected to find himself in a situation like this.  This, of course, being his baby boy taking his cock up the ass while moaning around the tit Inko was feeding him. Inko herself looked dazed, out of her mind in pleasure, as she stroked Izuku's hair gently away from their baby's face.  "That's it, sweetheart, you're doing so well," she cooed at him, and Hisashi hissed as her praise caused Izuku to tightened around him sporadically. "Does daddy's cock feel good? What about mama's pussy, huh? It's your first, isn't it?" "Warm, mama, so warm," their boy slurred around the hard nipple in his mouth, his tongue flicking over it before he once more began to suck, looking so much like the baby he used to be, and Inko moaned.  "Oh, I wish I had milk to feed you, baby. Wish you could suck from me the way you used to." Hisashi jolted his hips forward and grinned when the both of them yelped. After he'd fucked Inko in the hallway, he'd been quick to get them all to the bedroom. There was no need for any of them to hide anymore and he wanted this to last. Almost as soon as they'd gotten on the bed, Hisashi was grabbing Izuku by the hips and sinking into his well-stretched hole. They'd been slowly going at it all day and so the boy was already well-prepared and beyond sensitive. Before he could do anything but whine, high and needy, at the renewed pressure against his swollen and abused prostate, Hisashi was maneuvering the both of them into the space between Inko's spread legs. She seemed to understand his goal and went along with it easily, eagerly, quickly placing a pillow under her hips to accommodate Izuku's small stature.  All three of them had moaned out loud as Izuku's baby cock sunk into the pussy that had given birth to him. It was like a switch had been flipped, like all higher brain function had been turned off, and Izuku had only been able to ramble and moan incoherently as he bucked between the both of them.  Their precious baby boy had lost all of his virginity to them, his own parents. He'd given every part of himself to them. He was theirs, now, completely.  Their baby had come quickly, overwhelmed, but they hadn't let him retreat. Now he was being moved by Hisashi's own thrusting hips, unable to do anything but take it. He must have come at least twice more by this point, if the way Inko moaned and convulsed every time he did was any indication, but Hisashi wasn't done yet. He didn't want this to end. He had both of them, his wife and his son, here together. He could have the both of them. He wouldn't be forced to chose.  He could have both.  The very thought of it had him hammering forward, if only to keep the bursting relief in his chest from bringing him to tears. "Almost there, baby. You ready? Daddy's gonna fill you up again while you suck on mama's tits like the little baby you are. Our baby, so fucking tiny. So good to us, Zuku, such a good boy. You gonna come again? Squirt your little boy juice right into mama's pussy? I think she'd like that, wouldn't you, mama?" "I would," she agreed immediately, hips beginning to undulate as much as they were able under Izuku's limp weight, doing her best to meet Hisashi's every thrust while keeping their son's body trapped between them. "Want you to, Izukkun, please, please, want to feel you inside again, feel your little cock twitch as you come inside me. Please, please, baby, come for me, come for mama!" With a muffled wail, Izuku was shuddering, body trying to simultaneously burry itself into his mother's wet heat while also wanting Hisashi's cock impaled as deeply as possibly inside of him. Hisashi was more than happy to oblige, reaching around their son to grab Inko's hips and yank, pulling them all impossibly closer. Inko gasped at the motion, eyes blowing wide and back arching beautifully, even as the hand she had nestled in Izuku's curls tightened into a fist and held.  It wasn't until the two bodies underneath him had gone limp once more that he realized what had happened. While orgasming, Izuku seemed to have bitten down on the nipple in his mouth. Not hard enough to draw blood, but the pain had clearly been enough to push Inko over her own edge.  "Look at you two," Hisashi grinned, leisurely pumping his hips. For all the stimulation, he still hadn't come again yet. "Already so tuckered out. Daddy's made you both feel so good, hasn't he?" "Feel so good, daddy," Izuku agreed, twisting around to look up at Hisashi with dazed, lust-blown eyes. He could barely see a hint of green left in them.  "So good," Inko hummed, her own hips twitching minutely. It was clear, though, that neither of them had the energy for much more. He'd been draining Izuku dry all day, making him come at least three times for every orgasm Hisashi pumped into him. And Inko must have been watching the whole time, probably fingering away at herself. Who knew how many times his wife had come to the sight and sound of him fucking their son?  Hisashi himself knew he was almost at his limit, too, no matter how much he wanted to keep going. But there was no need to now, was there? They were both his. He could have this whenever he wanted to, now.  So, he grinded deeply for a moment, enjoying the way his baby boy twitched and shuddered around him weakly, and then slowly pulled out. When Izuku whined and wiggled his hips in an effort to entice him back inside Hisashi laughed, slapped the head of his cock against that red, ruined hole for a moment, and then pulled back completely.  "Daddy? Daddy, no, what are you doing?" Izuku asked, voice bordering on pleading, and Inko immediately hushed the boy, petting gently at his face.  "It's okay, baby," Hisashi promised, running his hand up his son's back as he slowly made his way up the bed on his knees. His wife blinked up at him, curious, but said nothing when he stopped with his length resting against her cheek. "I want to come on mama's face. Your's, too. Would you like that? Wanna paint you both in my cum to show just who it is you belong to. You're both mine." "Yours, daddy!" Izuku chirped in immediate agreement, even as he began to wiggle his way up Inko's body. Inko let out a sigh as their baby's length slipped free of her but didn't complain. She had to know just as well as he did that none of them would be able to last much longer. Any more and they'd probably be edging from "used pleasure" and into "overused pain". Once he'd dragged himself up enough to be level with his mother's face, Izuku turned his fucked-out gaze up towards Hisashi and didn't hesitate to open his mouth wide and stick his tongue out as far as it could go. The very sight of it had Hisashi cursing.  "Fuck, you look so good, Zuku. Trained you so well, baby." Inko stared for a moment, not having expected that, though he thought she probably should've. She'd been aware of them for weeks now, at least, and he knew she'd heard him fuck Izuku's throat more than once in that time. Was pretty sure she'd watched a few times, too, had probably gotten off to it, even. Was it really that much of a surprise that their baby boy would be so eager for a taste of his daddy's come? Still, she made no comment, simply kept raking gentle fingers through their son's curls while she turned towards Hisashi's cock as well, letting the weeping head of it drag along her face until she met the tip with her lips. Her tongue darted out, giving it a quick lick, and then she was imitating Izuku and opening her mouth wide in welcome.  "You two make such a sight," Hisashi told them, almost breathless with it. And they really did. Both of them were so clearly fucked out, their eyes hazy and half-mast, blown to the point that any green was barely visible. With their faces smushed together, it was more than obvious that they were mother and son, and yet both laid there and waited so patiently to be covered in his come. "So fucking beautiful. You're both so fucking beautiful and you're mine. You're both all mine, fuck!" He pulled at his length in quick, harsh motions, arousal burning through him as they kept their hungry eyes on his cock. Every few seconds their tongues would wiggle around, like they were both desperate to take him into their mouths, and he groaned at the image that created in his mind. Maybe in the morning he could try that, could have them take turns taking him down their throat. He'd never gone that far with Inko, had never tried to force himself down her throat before. Would she be able to take it? Or would she have to watch and learn as their nine-year-old son took him like a champ? The very idea of it was enough, and he was spurting out all over them, thrusting forward to rub against their waiting tongues. And then he was rubbing his spent cock on their cheeks, their foreheads, pumping out the very last of his semen into their hair, until every inch that he could reach at the moment was soaked through with his seed.  He hummed another pleased sound as his wife and his son took it, let him use every part of them that he wished, and then turned to each other and mingled their tongues together, trading the taste of him back and forth.  Hisashi had never, not in his wildest dreams, thought that he could have this. Had never thought that he'd be able to have the both of them, the loves of his life, together. Had feared and dreaded the day he'd have to make a choice.  As he gathered his family up into his arms, all of them exhausted but content, he couldn't help but thank whatever lucky star he must have been born under.  Midoriya Hisashi loved his wife and loved his son in ways that he knew he wasn't supposed to.  But that was fine. Because the both of them loved him just the same. 

Halt arrived to the gathering just before the midday meal. He groaned inwardly to himself as he dismounted, it had been a long ride and the wasn’t getting any younger, not that he would ever admit it (his gray hair spoke for itself, though if you were brave enough to point that fact out, Halt would blame each and every one of those gray hairs on Will and Gilan. Perhaps Horace deserves credit for one or two as well). Abelard gave him a look that said, “if think you’re sore, imagine how I feel.” One side of Halt’s mouth twitched upward for a brief moment.    “If you are angling for an extra apple, you’ve got another thing coming.”    Halt untacked Abelard and brushed him down. He was itching to see his boys, whom he hadn’t seen in months, but he pushed the urge to rush deep down. Abelard was his most pressing responsibility at the moment, Will and Gilan could wait another ten minutes while he made sure Abelard was comfortable. After all, if it weren’t for his horse, Halt wouldn’t be here at all. He pours out a handful of oats and makes sure that Abelard has a bucket of fresh water near by.    “Be good and play nicely with the other horses.” Halt whispers, only half jokingly, holding out a shiny red apple. Abelard takes it from him and soon he is nosing at Halts hand.    “I already told you that you were only getting one.” Halt said, reaching into his bag in search of another apple. Abelard tossed his mane, then happily accepts the second apple.    “You are a spoilt horse, you know that right?”    Abelard ignores Halt, munching away on his treat. Halt shakes his head to himself and started towards then dinning tent. Rangers were beginning to file in, each and everyone of them making a beeline to the pots of hot coffee that were lined up by the fire. Halt scanned the room and his eyes fell on a table in the darkest corner of the dining tent. Three rangers sat hunched over steaming mugs, a half dozen empty ones pushed to the side. Halt wove his way through the crowd of tables, chairs, and hungry rangers, keeping the hood of his cloak pulled up in order to remind unrecognized. Later on in the evening he would make the rounds, saying hello to old friends and examining the new apprentices, but for now he just wanted to see his boys and best friend. Everyone else could wait.    When Halt approached the table, he slipped his cowl down and said, “I hope you lot have left some coffee for the rest of us.”   The men looked up and the look on their faces made the half smile Halt was wearing drop. Crowley looked exhausted, as though he had been up for most of the night stewing over an unfixable problem, a look that was somewhat common in his office at Castle Araluen, but almost never made an appearance at the gathering.    Halt turned his attention to Will and noticed the way his eyes darted, refusing to meet Halt’s gaze. Will shifted his mug from one hand to the other, uneasiness radiating off of him. Halt then  looked over to Gilan, who’s eyes were hard and the crease in between his eyebrows reminded Halt of the young apprentice he had trained all those years ago. The look on Gilan’s face now was the same one he would have whenever he was angry at himself for not being able to accomplish a task Halt had asked him to do (usually something regarding geography, a subject apparently loathed by all apprentices). Both boys (men, Halt mentally corrected himself), lacked the enthusiastic energy they often carried. Especially since they were at the Gathering. Normally the two of them would be running circles around everyone, trying to pack as much into the trip as they could.    “What’s wrong?” Halt asked, anxiety slowly creeping in. He wasn’t sure what had Will and Gilan so on edge, but whatever it was, Halt would fix it. Will’s discomfort obviously grows at Halt’s question, color rising on his cheeks.    “Perhaps it would be better to relocate this conversation to my tent.” Crowley said.    Halt frowned. Rangers, while curious and attentive by nature, were not typically ones to pry into another rangers private conversations. Especially if they were speaking with Crowley. Halt wanted to ask follow up questions, but didn’t. He knew it would only delay finding out the answers that he needed even more. The rangers stood from the table and followed Crowley to his tent. The Commandant tent was spacious, serving not only as as place for Crowley to sleep, but also as a makeshift office and small meeting room. A heavy canvas was drawn across the space. One third of the tent contained Crowley’s personal belongings and a small portable bed. Not as comfortable as a real mattress, but much better than sleeping on the ground. The rest of the room held a desk with a chair tucked against it and a circular table surrounded by six chairs. This was where Crowley could meet with rangers individually or in smaller groups to discuss private or official matters while at the Gathering. The group sat down at the table, Will sitting down last, positioning himself in between Gilan and an empty chair. Halt tried not to read into the action, but the empty space besides him reenforced his belief that something was wrong with Will. He almost always sat next to Halt if he had the choice, but Will’s seat selection felt deliberate and it hurt Halt, even though he knew that it shouldn’t. He couldn’t think of a reason that Will would be upset with him. It had been a couple months since Halt had last seen him, but they had been keeping in touch through letters, and Will hadn’t even alluded to something being wrong in their latest communications.    “Something happened yesterday, and we are still working on the best way to handle it.” Crowley started.    “What happened Crowley? Stop beating around the bush.” Halt was losing patience, he wanted to know what was going on and he wanted to know now.    “Will and Gilan overheard some rangers saying… ugly things about Will. And you.”    Halt turned and stared at Will, who was leaning ever so slightly into Gilan, who was leaning back into Will, applying a reassuring pressure.    “Who?”    “I’m not sure you need to know that right now Halt, I still haven’t decided what to do.” Crowley replied, rubbing a hand over his face.    “Crowley, it apparently involves me, so I deserve to know who said what.”    “You don’t what to know the details Halt. Trust me.” Gilan spoke up.    “Yes, I do. Someone tell me exactly what happened right now or I am going to lose my temper.”    Surprisingly, it was Will to told him, his words rushing out. “Hawthorn said that I’m full of myself, Lee thinks I think I am better than everyone and shouldn’t be assessing apprentices or going on the missions I go on…” Will trails off, the courageous wind that had been propelling him forward disappears quickly as it had arrived.    Halt was scowling. “Those idiots wouldn’t know skill if it knocked them over the head. They are bitter and jealous. You shouldn’t pay attention to anything they say.”     “You aren’t telling him everything.” Gilan said quietly to Will.   Will closed his eyes, “You heard it better than I did.”    Gilan nodded, he understand what Will meant by that. Keeping his eyes planted on a knot in the wooden table in front of him, he finished that story. “Donovan also said that he thinks the reason Will was receiving “special treatment” was because you had been grooming since he was an apprentice to be a toy, an outlet, since you never married. He said you chose an orphan for a reason.” Gilan was care not to point out what exactly they implication was, but the words were still like acid in his mouth and he was slightly concerned that the meager breakfast he had that morning was going to make a reappearance on the table.    The room was dead quiet. Will was certain that everyone was able to hear his heart pounding rapidly against his chest. They were all frozen, waiting for Halt to react. After a few minutes of silent tension Crowley said, “Halt, are you alright?”    In response, Halt stood, so quickly that his chair clatter to the ground behind him. Without sparing the other men in the room a second glance, he turned and rushed out of the tent.    Will’s face had gone from burning red to ghost white. Crowley knew that Will was reading Halt’s disappearance as disappointment.    “He just needs to process everything.” Crowley said reaching across the table to pat Will’s arm.    “Or he’s going to disembowel Donovan.” Gilan mutters.    Crowley shoots Gilan an exasperated look, “That’s not exactly helpful Gilan.”   “He’d just be doing what we all want to do.” And Crowley didn’t have a response to that because, of course that’s what he wanted. In fact, he spent a decent portion of the night imagining all the painful way he could remove Donovan from the Corps. And he was going to remove him, that was the one thing he had decided on. How to handle it and what to do about the others, that was another matter entirely. Discharging a Ranger wasn’t something that could be handled lightly. Donovan knew how the ranger’s worked, he knew secrets and Crowley couldn’t remove those like he could remove the silver oak leaf he wore. But he couldn’t be allowed to remain a Ranger. The rangers were a small group that required unity and Crowley couldn’t allow the kind of poison Donovan was oozing to spread. It could result in the type of division that would be impossible to control. Crowley had to make sure that everyone knew there were consequences for their actions. Unfortunately, that meant it was likely that he would have to revel at least some on the details of what transpired and resulted in Donovan’s removal.    But that was something Crowley would have to think about later. Right now, he had a best friend and a man who was practically a nephew to him to take care of.    “I am going to go find Halt. Make sure that he hasn’t inflicted bodily harm yet. Gilan, why don’t you get some lunch for Will and yourself.” Crowley said, taking control of the situation.    Gilan nodded and looked over to Will, “I’ll be right back bud.” Will just nodded, eyes looking off to the side, unfocused and slightly glazed. Gilan suspected that Will was fighting back tears and it broke his heart.   When Gilan and Crowley exit the tent they sigh simultaneously. They both know that things are far from resolved and it is almost a guaranty that at least a few more rangers will learn about Donovan’s feelings towards Halt and Will’s bond. The man was never one to keep his mouth shut, as evidenced by the fact that they are in the situation that they are in, and once he is forced into an early retirement, it is unlikely he will go quietly.    “Will didn’t want anyone else to know.” Gilan says softly, though he doesn’t know why he does. Crowley is well aware of Will’s wishes and there isn’t anything he can do to make this awful situation better.   But before Gilan can try to take it back, Crowley simply replies, “I know. And I will try to make things better tomorrow. But today, unfortunately, I need to make them worse. I’m going to find Halt, make sure he is alright, then I’ll deal with Donovan. I’m still not sure what to do about the others. I am open to suggestions though.” Crowley looks over to Gilan, hopeful that the younger ranger would have a helpful answer.   “Let Halt handle it and let me watch.” It’s an answer, but not a particularly helpful one.    Crowley let out a humorless laugh. Without saying anything else, Crowley went off in search of Halt. Gilan shrugged. He wasn’t expecting for Crowley to agree with his advice, but he wasn’t sure that would matter. Halt was fiercely protective of Will, something he had proven many years ago, and Gilan knew that Crowley wouldn’t be able to stop Halt from doing what he felt he had to do to resolve the situation.          To be completely candid, Crowley had expected to find Halt in front of the beaten body of Donovan. In fact, as he searched for his friend, he tried to come up with a plan on how he would shield Halt from the possible consequences of his actions. But much to his surprise, Crowley found Halt alone and blood free on the edge of a small pond near the clearing. He sat with this cloak wrapped around him, still as stone, looking out at the water.  Crowley approached him, making sure that Halt would hear him. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to unintentionally sneak up on him. Crowley sat down next to Halt on a log and waited. When Halt was ready, he would say something. Crowley waited in silence for several minutes before Halt broke it.    “Do people really think I am capable of… that?” Halt’s voice was low and heartbroken, and Crowley wished he could take away all of his friends pain.    “No one who matters. I doubt Donovan even beliefs it. He’s a petty man who was trying to get a reaction.”    “But for him to say that, to think it, there had to have been something that made him think it was possible.”    Crowley sighs. “Halt, you’ve never cared what people think of you before, why does it matter now?”    “Because no one has ever thought something this repulsive about me before!” Halt explodes, leaping up, his cloak falling from his shoulders. “How could any of them possibly think I would hurt a child, especially in that way! I know I am a lot of things, but I’m not cruel. I’m not a monster. Will is like a son to me, just like Gilan. I could never do something to harm them. Why can’t everyone see that?” Halt was shaking and Crowley didn’t know if it was anger, disgust, or just plain panic. It caught Crowley off guard to see his usually unshakable friend to be tilted so off balance. But Will always was his weak spot.    “Halt, you know as well as I do that Donovan is, to be frank, the worst. We all hate him and he knows it. I think he was trying to say the most shocking thing he could. He’s trying to pull attention, for better or worse. He wants it to seem like he has a story to tell. One that others will want to hear.”   “Well it worked.” Gilan said, coming up behind Crowley and Halt.    “What do you mean?” Crowley asked, hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was.    “The Gathering is abuzz. Donovan, Lee and Hawthorn didn’t waste anytime getting their evil rumor out. I went to get something for Will to eat and every conversation I overheard was about Will and Halt.”    Halt closed his eyes, his measured breathing a subtle indication of the storm brewing within him.    “What was the general reaction?” Crowley probed.    “From what I could gather, most of the rangers think it’s absolutely bull. These men know Halt and they know Donovan. They aren’t deceived that easily.”    Halt spoke up for the first time since Gilan had come over, “Most? So there are some who are inclined to believe it?” Gilan sighed, “I think Lee’s apprentice is influencing most of the other apprentices, he seems to think anything Lee says is Gospel. The rest are probably more excited by the gossip and drama than anything else. They’re kids, they don’t understand how horrible these lies are.”   Crowley starts to say something but Halt cuts him off by saying, “I’m going to a walk. Don’t follow me.” Halt started towards the gathering grounds.   “It doesn’t take a genius to know what you are about to do.” Crowley rolled his eyes and followed Halt, Gilan trailing behind.   “I’m giving you plausible deniability.”    “You know that it doesn’t work like that.”    Gilan clear his throat, “Halt, I know that you want to go confront Donovan and the others, and I fully support that, I do. But you need to go talk to Will first.”    “I don’t have anything to say yet. I’ll go deal with the problem, then I can at least tell him it’s been handled.”    “Will doesn’t really care about what happens to Donovan, Lee and Hawthorn, he cares about what’s happening with you. You ran off after we told you what they said. He thinks you’re upset.”    “I am upset.”    “Upset with him.”    That made Halt pause. “He didn’t do anything wrong. I have no reason to be upset with him. I’m not upset with him.”    “Oh yeah, and Will totally doesn’t have a guilt complex that has him internalizing everything and blaming himself for this whole thing.” Gilan said sarcastically, crossing his arms.    Halt didn’t have a response to that. It was true, of course. But he didn’t want to talk to Will right now because he wouldn’t be able to see his former apprentice’s face with out their latest conversation replaying over and over again in his head.    “I need to fix this first.”    “No you don’t! Will doesn’t need you to fix it, he just needs you to be there for him!” Gilan’s voice was beginning to get louder as his frustration increased.    “Gilan, Halt is dealing with this just as much as Will is. He needs to process it just like Will had to yesterday.” Crowley cut in. Gilan turned to him and Crowley saw the expression on Gilan’s face, recognizing it immediately. He knew that he was likely wearing a similar look. The hard glare of brotherly protection. Gilan was fighting for his brother’s wellbeing and Crowley was fighting for his.    “Will is a kid Crowley! He needs to be protected.”   “I’m not a kid, and I don’t need to be protected Gil.” While the older men had been distracted, they hadn’t noticed Will, lurking in the shadows. They all turn to him, Gilan looking slightly sheepish.    “I know Will, it’s just that, you know,” Gilan rubbed the back of his neck, “you’re like, my little brother. You shouldn’t have to worry about this kind of crap.”    Will smiled gently, “And when I need pointers on unseen movement, or I need someone to help me plot against Halt, you are the big brother I’ll go to. But I am fully capable of defending myself. I can stand on my own two feet. You need to let me handle this alone. All of you do.”    “You are absolutely right, Will.” Crowley said, his eyes glittering with pride. He always knew Will had strength within himself, he had proven it time after time, but seeing him tell Gilan and Halt to let him fight his own battles showed just how much he had grown. It would have been all to easy to let Halt and Gilan tear all of his enemies to shreds, but Will knew he was capable of dealing with it, he had just forgotten for a moment.    “Let’s see if we can snag a bit of lunch before it’s cleared away.” Crowley put his arm around Will and started towards the dinning tent, pulling the younger man along.    “We will join you in a minute.” Halt called after them, before turning to Gilan who was looking at his former mentor expectantly.    “I am going to need you to keep Crowley and Will occupied tonight.” Halt said in a low tone.    “Dare I ask why?” Gilan was fairly certain he already knew the answer.   “Will is a kind person. His version of “dealing with it” is a conversation and a hand shake.”   “We both know that isn’t enough though.”    “Exactly. So, I’ll show Donovan and his merry band of pricks how I deal with men like them, then tomorrow, when Will “deals with it”, they will be grateful for the conversation and begging like the dogs they are for his forgiveness.”    Gilan grinned, “Will wouldn’t like you comparing those awful men to dogs.”   “No he would not.” Halt let out a soft chuckle.   “I wish I could be there, if not to help then at least to watch.”   “It’s best you don’t. Wouldn’t want to be a bad influence.”    “I’m afraid you’ve come to that realization decade or so too late.”    “So you will keep them away tonight?” Halt asked again, going back to business.   “Of course. You are the one who is going to have to explain it all the Crowley later though. If I can’t throw a few punches, then I am most certainly not going to be your scapegoat.”    “Deal.”          That evening, once the sun had set and the apprentices had been sent off to bed, Halt snuck around to the outskirts of the clearing. Dinner had been an awkward affair, filled with sidelong glances and fierce whispers. Will, Gilan, Crowley, and Halt had sat at a table near the back of the dining tent, trying their best to pretend they couldn’t hear the conversations of those who weren’t whispering quietly enough. Will had appreciated the self control the others had shown. He knew that there were more than one occasion over the course of the meal when Gilan and Halt wanted “remind” the others that gossip is for “old wives with nothing better to occupy their time with”. That was a direct quote from Halt. After dinner they had set a fire up outside of Gilan’s tent and just sat around it sipping coffee. Gilan had been racking his brain all evening about how he was going to be able to distract Crowley and Will without them getting suspicious, but as it turned out, the stress of the day had taken it’s toll on both of them. Crowley had been the first to retired, saying that he had a mountain of paper work to review before the end of the gathering. Not long after, Will said goodnight, retreating to his tent. After he was sure the other two men were down for the night, Halt had disappeared into the trees to find Donavon. Gilan stayed up by the fire, keeping his eyes in the direction of Will and Crowley’s tents, just in case they got up and were looking for Halt.    Halt couldn’t be sure that Donovan and the others would still be awake, but he was inclined to believe that they would be spending most of the night over indulging in the ale that they must have brought in, since none was provided. His suspicions were proven correct when he found Donovan and Lee sitting by a fire, loudly boasting about something or other. Their voices were so slurred by the alcohol, that Halt was having difficulty understanding what they were saying. Not that he thought it was anything of importance. Halt had mixed emotions about them being drunk. On the one hand, it made what he was about to do 100 times easier. He was confident in his ability to get the upper hand over both of the men sober, but it would have been a close fight. They were still rangers after all, even if they didn’t act like it. Halt was concerned that their intoxication would let them forget some of the punishment Halt was prepared to dole out, but he shrugged it off, figuring that the pain they would be in the next morning would be enough of a memory. He had wished that Hawthorne would be with them, but you can’t win it all. If Donovan and Lee’s injuries weren’t enough of warning to leave Will alone, then Halt could always just give Hawthorne a private lesson.    The drunken rambling grew louder and Halt looked to see what had changed.    Will had appeared on the opposite side of the fire. He wasn’t creeping up on Donovan and Lee, he wasn’t even wearing his cloak. His bow was in one hand, a quiver of arrows strapped across his back, and the saxe and throwing knives were at his side. In the flickering light of the fire, Halt didn’t seeing the young boy he often did when he looked at Will, rather, he saw a determined ranger, back straight, and eyes hardened with steel. He saw himself in those eyes.    “We need to talk.” Will called out to the two drunk rangers, voice steady and calm.    “Well, if it isn’t little Willy. Go back to your tent, the adults are talking.” Lee hollers.    “We need to talk.” Will repeated, stepping closer.    Donovan scoffed, “Are you thick or something? He said get outta here.”   “You both need to publicly announce that you were lying about your suspicions regarding Halt and myself. Tell everyone the truth: you are bitter that you both will only ever be mediocre at best, and that’s why you were trying to slander us.”    Lee and Donovan both burst out laughing. “Oh is that all? Any other demands?” Lee mocks.    “Yes actually. I also need you to apologize to me. And to Halt.” That caused the other men to laugh even harder.    “And why on gods green earth would we do that?”    Will smiled, but it was all teeth and no joy, causing him to resemble a wolf baring his teeth. “Because if you don’t, then I’m going to shoot you in the thigh with an arrow. Then, while you are both crying for your mothers on the ground, I am going to take my saxe and cut an X over your mouths, so everyone will know that nothing you say can be trusted.”    Even from where Halt was crouching in the bushes, he could see Donovan and Lee’s cocky smirks drop. Halt smild at the threat. It was old school, but everyone still remembered what an X scar across the mouth symbolized. Back in the day, if someone was know for lying to the point of endangering others, a knight (or occasionally a ranger) would cut an X over their mouth as a warning for others to not believe everything they said. No one does that anymore, not in Araluen at least, but if anyone saw a man with an X scar, they’d still be hesitant to trust them. A ranger could never do his job with a scar like that, no one would respect him. Will’s threat wasn’t just one of immediate pain, but it would permanently change the course of these men’s lives. It was honestly a better threat than the one Halt had been planning.    “You wouldn’t dare. You don’t have the guts.“ Donovan said, but his voice was significantly less confident than it had been moments ago.    Will tilted his head to the side. Halt usually teased him when he did that, saying that Will had a strong resemblance to a confused puppy. But this time, the angry look in his eyes and the hungry grin made Will look like a wild animal; completely unpredictable.    “You forget who I am, Donovan. I’m not just some young child playing with his father’s hunting bow. I am a fully trained ranger. One who went through hell to get his silver oak leaf. Now, last chance to accept my offer.”   Donovan let out a snarl and lunged at Will, the outstretched blade of his saxe knife reflecting the orage flames of the fire.  In true ranger fashion, the gathering camp started to stir at the break of dawn. Men shuffled out of their tents, all following the scent of freshly brewed coffee to the dining tent. The tent was about half filled when Crowley walked in, spotting Will sitting at a table in the center if the room, a cup of coffee clutched in his hands and two empty mugs pushed over to the side. Crowley made his away over to him.    “You look as though you’ve been here for quiet some time. Early start to the day?” Crowley questioned as he took a seat across from Will.    Will gave him a slightly sheepish smile, “Earlier than you know. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”    “Really? That’s interesting, since you retired to your tent  so early last night.” Crowley’s raised eyebrow told Will that the Commandant knew there was more to the story.   Will was rescued from further questioning by the arrival of Halt and Gilan. The men both sat down at the table, Gilan next to Will and Halt across the table next to Crowley.    “Good morning you two.” Crowley took in the dark circles underneath their eyes and the way they were holding their coffee mugs so tightly he wouldn’t be surprised if they started to crack.  “Looks like you both got about as much sleep as Will did.”    “We had a rather long night. “ Gilan grumbled.    “One really? Care to share what kept you awake?” Crowley asked.    Their conversation was interrupted by a collective gasp let out by the other ranger’s in the dining tent. Crowley turned around to see what had drawn everyone’s attention, but Halt and Gilan kept their faces neutral and continued sipping their coffee. Will couldn’t stop a slight, almost imperceptible smirk from forming on his mouth. He was looking forward to what was about to happen.  He didn’t move until someone next to him cleared their throat. Will turned to Donovan and struggled to keep his expression blank. Now that they were in the clear morning light, the man looked even worse than he had last night when Will left him at the edge of the clearing. He had a thick, white bandage peaking out the collar of his shirt, and even though the two matching bandages on his left leg were covered by his trousers, the heavy limp was  a clear indication of the wounds they covered. But that wasn’t what everyone was staring at. No, what drew their attention so completely was Donovan’s face. Tight stitches pulled at his mouth in two crossing diagonal lines. With the stitches it was hard to tell, but every ranger in the room knew that once they were removed, there would be a prominent X scar across his mouth. The murmurs that had been growing louder and louder came to a sudden halt when Will stood up to face Donovan. The size difference between the two ranger’s was somewhat suprising. Will was on the shorter side, and his muscles were lean and wiry, whereas Donovan’s thick arm and chest muscles gave him quiet a bit of bulk. Their physical size difference didn’t matter however. The fearful, intimidatied expression on Donovan’s face compared to the cool, controlled one on Will’s spoke volumes to the size of their character.    “Will,” Donovan started, but when Will rose an eyebrow, he quickly corrected himself, “I mean, Ranger Treaty. I am sorry about the, um, things I said about you and Ranger O’Carrick. It was nothing but lies, and anyone who believed me was a fool. You have earned everything you’ve received.” Donovan would never win any awards for his acting abilities, and it felt a bit rehearsed, but his tone was relatively convincing. What he lacked in sincerity, he more than made up for in desperate repentance, though to be fair, that was purely fear driven.    Will stared at Donovan for a few moments, letting the man words sink into the audience. Then he said, “I accept your apology. But I do believe you own one to to Ranger O’Carrick.” Will looked at Halt who was still seated across the table, arms crossed in front of his chest. He made no movement to stand like Will had. Donovan nodded quickly and turned his attention to Halt.    “Ranger O’Carrick, I am sorry for what I said about you. I know that you would never abuse a child like that.”   Halt’s eyes narrowed, “Is that honestly the best you can do? You tried to slander Will and me to every ranger here and all you have to say is “I’m sorry”? You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you are expecting Crowley to still allow you to work with the Corps.”   Donovan shot Crowley a panicked look. For his part, Crowley’s eyes were shifting between Will and Halt, trying to piece together what the hell had happened last night.    Focusing his attention back to Halt, Donovan said in a low voice, “What else do you want me to do?”   “Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.”   Will’s eyes grew with shock. He hadn’t been expecting Halt to drag Donovan’s apology out so much. Apparently last night didn’t satisfy his need for retribution like it had for Will.    Donovan’s cheeks flared red, and Will thought he was going to just storm out of the tent. But apparently the risk of losing his job, and any chance of getting another, was too much. Donovan dropped clumsily to his knees, pain etching it’s self onto his face as he put more weight on his injured leg. “Please forgive me Ranger O’Carrick. Please have mercy.”    Halt nodded. “Good enough I suppose. Now get out of my sight.“   Donovan didn’t need to be told twice, rushing up from his knees and scurrying out, tail between his legs.   The tent was silent, then someone broken out into applause, everyone else quickly joining in. Will scanned the room, looking for the ranger who had started it. His eyes fell on Ben, who was standing, a massive grin on his face. When he noticed Will staring at him, Ben let out a loud, celebratory whistle. Will smiled and nodded. He knew that this was Ben’s attempt to apologize for not saying anything to Donovan and the other when they first started talking about Will. Not that he need to apologize. Will knew how intimidating the older rangers could be, and Ben had always been a bit too eager for the rangers to accept him.    Will sat down and took a sip of what was left of his coffee. He sighed, it had gone cold.    Crowley cleared his throat and Will, Gilan, and Halt all turn their attention to him. “Would anyone care to fill me in? Or am I supposed to just believe that Donovan took a nasty fall on a pile of arrows last night and woke up with a sudden change of heart?”    “Last night Halt went off to get revenge on Donovan and Lee. Expect when he found them, I was already there. Turns out great minds think alike.” Will started.    “Will told Donovan and Lee if they didn’t take back what they said, he’d shoot them with an arrow and scar their lying mouths. Donovan wasn’t a fan of that plan and lunged at Will with his saxe knife. Before he could reach him, he had three arrows in him. We had fired our arrows at the same time.” Halt continued.    “Which one of you shot him twice?” Crowley asked, even though he was fairly certain it had been Halt. But then Gilan proved him wrong.    “I was the other shot actually. Halt asked me to keep you and Will out of his way, but when Will snuck off, I let him go, and followed him. I wanted to see what he was planning.”    “Even with three arrows sticking out of him like a pin cushion, he still wouldn’t apologize. So I made good on my threat. Hence the stitches on his mouth.” Will finished.    “First of all, I do not appreciate being excluded from all of the excitement.” Crowley said. “And second, what happened with Lee and Hawthorne?”    “Apparently Hawthorne had already begun to have a genuine change of heart last night, before all of this started. That’s why he wasn’t with Donovan and Lee. Early this morning he found Halt and I and said that he was sorry and that he regretted his involvement in the entire thing.” Will told Crowley.    “Which I was hesitant to believe, but Will always see the best in everyone. As for Lee, after seeing the treatment Donovan got after refusing to ask for forgiveness, he was quick to apologize. Will let him go after making sure that Lee would have a conversation with all of the apprentices today about the importance of not feeding into harmful gossip. I threaten Donovan that if he didn’t publicly apologize this morning, there would be zero chance of him being able to keep working in some capacity with the Corps. It’s your call obviously, but I figured you could always use someone to deal with menial office tasks.” Halt said.    Crowley leaned back in his chair. “It would make things simpiler to keep him involved. A scorned ranger always leads to trouble. And you both are comfortable with letting the three of them stay around as things are? No extra punishments?”    Will and Halt both nodded.    “Good, then we will let this entire situation die. I’ll be glad to be able to leave it behind.”    And that is what they did. It was never brought up again. When the young apprentices prodded their mentors for more information, their questions were quickly shot down. Everyone moved on from the matter. Donovan was reassigned to work in the office at Castle Araluen for a few years before taking an early retirement. Hawthorne and Lee did their best to give Halt and Will a wide birth at the following gatherings. Occasionally during the long, lonely nights in Seacliff, Will would find himself remembering what they had said, not about Halt, but about him not deserving the privileges that had been granted to him. But like magic, the next morning a letter from Alyss or Gilan would always arrive, or Horace would visit unexpectedly, and his friends made everything seem okay again. Will still wasn’t sure why someone would be jealous of his status or privileges, but when he thought about the family he had built around himself, he understood how enviable it was. 

Sherlock’s heat lasted for the better amount of four days, the waves becoming less frequent and potent after the first 48 hours. When John could be sure that the Omega was up to the task of caring for himself again, he resumed working during the day but made sure to be back on time every evening. While still deeply in the grips of his hormones Sherlock had let himself be dragged into a shower more or less voluntarily, the doctor pointedly not imagining that thin body in any other situation than in that of a patient. Now that he was becoming aware of his surroundings again, John could only nudge him into the direction of the bathroom with a pointed look. Sherlock would meticulously ensure the sheets were wrapped fully around his body or he was dressed in some form of clothing before he would let John see him. In a way John’s heart gave a painful pinch but then he remembered that for the other his whole existence still was somewhat of a threat. “How are you feeling?”, John hummed, leafing through the day’s newspaper as Sherlock emerged from the bedroom fully clothed and not even barefoot. “I… ehrm, well I wanted to thank you for your help.”, the curly haired boy started, sounding like he was making some formal announcement, “I am grateful that you did not violate me although that was your every right. You made it clear that you do not want to have anything to do with this whole transaction. Therefor I will be out of your way now that my heat is over.” The fumbling words had John looking up from where he was sitting on his armchair, taking in the whole form of the young Omega currently standing in his sitting room. The clothing was looking professional but the clean edges of the crisp suit still weren’t able to hide just how young Sherlock was. John cleared his throat, “So what are you going to do now? I mean where are you planning to go?” “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought of that. I just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be bothering you further.”, he confessed, nervously rubbing his thumb over his forefinger. “Yeah, I though so.”, John chuckled and then pointed at the black leather chair Sherlock had already sat in once, “Sit down and let’s see if we can find something that will work for you. I mean I got the papers, legally I own you and while I do not have any interest in possessing you like an item, I’d like to make sure you are not ending up in some ditch somewhere in town.” The Omega swallowed but did as the doctor had told him, trying to sit upright and as neat as possible which just made the Alpha chuckled more. Sherlock was confused and shuffled around on the armchair, feeling the blue eyes of the other burn their way across his body. He felt like every fantasy he had had during his heat was written plainly on his face and he bit his lip. “Stop fidgeting.”, John smiled and put his paper down, “And stop pretending you are something you’re not. Just get comfortable and let’s have a talk about the situation like two grown up people. I believe you are probably a brilliant, young boy and it would pain me seeing that go to waste because you have to make do on your own. Especially if I think about what will happen during your next heat or the one after that and so on. I live alone and haven’t really had the inclination of changing it, nevertheless this flat has two bedrooms. By now you’ve probably realised I’m quite well off and if you take no offence on my hours, you are welcome to look at the room upstairs. As it is you probably won’t like it but I’m sure that can be changed. Have you thought about University? I mean you clearly don’t have to but having something to occupy your time with does come in handy, or so I find.” Sherlock was at a slight loss for words. He narrowed his eyes on the doctor trying to read where the catch lie. There had to be a catch but the Alpha’s bearing spoke of nothing but honest concern. In a way that threw him off more than any violent behaviour the ex-soldier could have displayed at any point during the days Sherlock had been the most vulnerable. Thinking back he couldn’t even think of one inappropriate glance or brush of hand. The Alpha had been nothing but respectful and accommodating. “Hey, are you still with me?”, John grinned as he waved a hand in front of Sherlock’s face, pulling him out of his staring, “Does it sound like something you could live with?” There wasn’t more than a hesitant nod from the Omega but immediately a bright smiled spread across John’s face. “Great, then we can set you up upstairs first and after that we see about what you’d like to do with your life. No pressure but I’d rather want to have you build something on your own. I don’t believe for a second you’d be a good housewife.” Sherlock blushed badly at that commentary but settled in more comfortably in the armchair. He breathed deeply. Yes, the start hadn’t been ideal but he could live here, he thought. The flat was warm and homey. There were no sharp, clean edges and nothing spoke of an interior designer other than the Alpha himself. Sherlock felt like the flat gave him a safe place, cocooning him in warmth and the knowledge that bad things would stay outside.     “God they are stupid. How could they not have known it was the stepdaughter?”, Sherlock was bristling. It had been two months since he had been a frightened ball in the corner of John’s bedroom and now the doctor was practically pulling him away from the police station, all big gestures and booming voice. His thin frame puffed up in the big, grey coat John simply had to buy when he had come across it. “Shush Sherlock, we are outside and you are shouting out confidential information.”, John chuckled and more or less shoved the Omega into the waiting cab. “They just had to look at her shoes. The answer was right in front of their faces the entire time. How did these people manage to pass their public exams and which faculty deemed them competent enough to be the ones dealing with murders?” “Sherlock”, John’s voice was a bit sterner which made the younger boy fall silent immediately and the doctor stroked a hand over the other’s leg soothingly, “It’s fine. You’ve been brilliant. Not everyone is as observant as you are.” There was a small grumbled coming from the bundle of dark haired Omega which John only answered with a smirk, “Come on. What would they have you for if they solved everything themselves? Someone has to give you a chance to show of your genius.” The two months spent in the doctor’s flat had changed their relationship and the way Sherlock held himself quite substantially. Where he had been all cautious and shy in the beginning, he was now loud and demanding. After he had realised that John wasn’t looking for someone tame who always thought about his actions thrice before opening his mouth, he had slowly reverted back to his normal self. The upstairs bedroom had been quickly turned into his room which John wouldn’t even come near uninvited. A lucky streak had him running across a crime scene about a week later. After he had solved the case with three sharp glances and the police officer had made sure that he himself wasn’t some mad serial killer, Sherlock was allowed in to consult on some of the cases. The first time the doctor had found out what he had been up to caught Sherlock unexpected. The praises he got went to a place somewhere deep inside him and he couldn’t deny that it made him feel warm and cherished. The way his mind worked hadn’t been the subject of much praise in the past and so the soft ‘brilliant’, ‘amazing’ and ‘wonderful’ had him preening within seconds. Nevertheless he carefully tried not to let his shifting feelings show too much. John had made clear right at the beginning that they wouldn’t bond and so Sherlock was happy with every bit of attention he could snatch. Sometimes he even managed to get the odd cuddle without making it look just like that. There was a certain technique behind his approach and he would always wait at least three days before trying again. No need to alarm the doctor he thought. John had watched the young Omega practically flourish. The eccentric habits the other was keeping weren’t always too easy but since the doctor still had a vivid memory of a boy who was looking like his life was going to end, he just cared about the excited smiles which flashed across Sherlock’s face. He wasn’t there for most of the day either way and as long as his flat was still habitable when he came home, he didn’t mind too much. It had been obvious from the start that the other had a simple craving for touch. John never made him admit it out loud but he would casually brush their hands together while handing over a cup of tea or place his hand in the small of Sherlock’s back for a short time when he looked over his shoulder at something the Omega was working on. Mostly he held himself back, though since he was still painfully aware of the age gape between them. The ownership papers his mother had send him about a day after Sherlock first showed up in his flat were shoved somewhere into a deep dark corner and the doctor’s mind was feverishly working on a way to legally annul them without it all falling back into the hands of Sherlock’s family. What he had gotten out of the other about his life since he had presented, had him clench his fists and very pointedly not trying to get the Holmes’ address. It wouldn’t serve anyone if he went into a rant about proper treatment of one’s own child. “If I order dinner, will you eat?”, John asked when they were back at the flat and Sherlock had thrown himself down on the couch. This was another small detail of their changing relationship. At first the Omega would spend as much time as possible in his room upstairs but slowly he had migrated downstairs and claimed the couch as his. The doctor had to smile fondly at the noncommittal noise he got in response. With a grin he ordered a little more, guessing that if he played his cards right, he could get Sherlock to pinch the odd bite from his plate. They were involved in some weird dance where either was sure the other wasn’t recognising a pattern in what they did but none of them really were inclined to point that out.   When his food arrived, an assortment of small Chinese odds and ends perfect for eating in one bite, John took it over to the couch poking at Sherlock’s feet. “Budge up.” He knew that if offered like this, it would only take about five minutes for Sherlock to have turned around on the couch, his head either lying on John’s lap or his body pressed close to the other’s side. In a way it was ridiculous that the dark haired one didn’t want to admit how much he craved touch but John was happy to give him what he needed silently. Like predicted it really only took five minutes until long fingers were stealing bites of food, John leaving exactly those pieces he knew Sherlock liked best. “You know next time you could simply say that you wanted some, too.”, John hummed when he was finished, “I happily order you your share.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” ,Sherlock murmured, eyes closed and head pressed into John’s palm, obviously enjoying the soft head massage he was getting out of it. John chuckled, burring both of his hands in the luscious, dark curls. It was really quite hard for him to hold back. He had fallen head over heels for the enigmatic character that was the young Omega. His thoughts might have been a bit obvious on his face as Sherlock gently cleared his throat, making the doctor look down. The big eyes which were staring back at him made him realise his mistake and he already wanted to pull his hands from the other’s head to give him the possibility of escape but a shy, “No, I like it.”, let him continue. The minutes seemed to stretch into eternity as both were debating inside their heads how to proceed. John felt like he was treading on extremely thin ice and that whatever move he made could be disastrous. In the end it was Sherlock who swallowed and then slowly raised his head off John’s lap. Biting his lower lip, he carefully swung a leg over the doctor’s lap and settled his weight on it again. They were holding each other’s gaze now, breathing having gone shallow and quick but no words were penetrating the silence around them. John had tentatively brought a hand up and settled it in Sherlock’s neck who nearly inaudibly purred at the contact of their skin. That closed the deal for the Alpha and he pressed up, gently touching their lips together and sighing when he felt the other nearly crumpling against his body. For a moment Sherlock was struck with awe before he realised what was happening. When his brain had caught up he couldn’t help himself but sag against the Alpha. With the simple brush of their lips he felt like his whole world was set ablaze. Before he had met John, and before the Alpha had turned everything Sherlock thought he had known about the world upside down, he had been certain he would never want someone. But the past two months had opened his eyes. Suddenly a big part of his time was spend trying to figure out how to best keep the doctor to himself. He might finally have found a way because those practiced lips were currently taking him apart and he had no intention of fighting it. John had to moan softly. All the tentative actions from Sherlock spoke volumes about how out of his field of expertise he was, stumbling along to follow. Quickly one strong arm was brought around the younger one’s waist to press them chest to chest. The faint gasping, which got stuck somewhere in the back of Sherlock’s throat, made John slow down even more. Now he was only languidly sliding his lips over the other’s, licking occasionally into the pliant mouth but making sure that the Omega had enough time to accustom himself with the foreign sensation. Whenever Sherlock had grasped a concept and was starting to answer more confidently, John would change things up, introduce a new variable into the equation. It was marvellous to feel the lithe body unravel on his lap. After nearly no time at all, Sherlock was involuntarily thrusting up slightly against John’s body. “Hey”, John murmured hushed, pressing his lips to the corner of the young boy’s mouth, “Everything alright?” Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open, gaze clouded. It took John a lot of willpower to not simply attack the swollen lips again, coaxing the blush which had spread on the high cheeks out further. “It’s never…”, the Omega obviously tried to formulate a sentence but the words were just coming sluggishly, “Never like that… when I’m not…” John smiled and hummed, “You mean when you’re not in heat.” He only got a dazed nod from the clearly aroused body on his lap. “I guess you’ve never actually been with someone then?”, the question was more to confirm what information he had already gathered about the Omega since his appearance in the doctor’s flat. “Don’t be ridiculous.”, John found that spoken with the slightly breathless voice those words lacked the usual cutting edge, “Who would have bought me if I hadn’t been a virgin?” John clenched his teeth at the reminder of how he came to know the other but fought against it and pressed another soft kiss to the other’s lips. “You are lovely. You’re quite frankly a genius and although you sometimes lack basic common sense you are the most brilliant thing I’ve ever met. That’s why anyone would want you because you are a good person if you let yourself.” John placed one hand gently under Sherlock’s chin to turn his face back towards him, “Don’t tell yourself something else. I’m sure there are a lot of people who would want to be with you.” Sherlock shook his head and mumbled nearly inaudibly, “But I don’t want them.” With a warm puff of breath over the other’s cheekbone John asked, “What do you want then?” “I… you?”, the answer sounded so unsure that it also could have been a question about permission. “Definitely”, John growled and pressed his lips to Sherlock’s neck, worrying the skin there between his teeth, “Do you want this Sherlock? Do you want me to show you how beautifully your body can sing under my hands?” The Omega was completely putty in John’s hands, quivering against his chest. It took some control from the doctor to hold himself back long enough for the dark haired ones to gather his wits enough to give an answer. “Yes”, Sherlock breathed, mind already blissed out on hormones by the bit of snogging they had indulged in. He felt incredibly light and damn aroused. At the moment he couldn’t come up with a time outside his heat where his cock had been so hard, straining against his trousers. “Let’s take care of you.”, John murmured, keeping one arm around Sherlock’s waist to stabilize him while the other was running down his torso with intent. His hands swiped shortly over the heated skin of Sherlock’s abdomen, having pushed the shirt a bit out of the way, before he pulled the waistband of the pyjamas down a little. The other’s cock immediately sprung towards him and John had to chuckle at the embarrassed flush that took over the young Omega’s face. “Oh you have definitely nothing to be ashamed of.”, he purred and ran two fingers up the underside of Sherlock’s cock, “Everything about you is bloody perfect.” The Omega hid his face in John’s neck, the touch amplifying his arousal but with his nose so close to the doctor’s alpha smell, the action wasn’t doing much to bring him down again. Instead he greedily let his system be flooded with the other’s pheromones, voice reduced a mewling whimper as a hand wrapped completely around his cock. Never would he have imagined the feeling being so glorious. He was sitting on John’s lap and he knew that by now he must have soaked his trousers but he couldn’t care because every time he seemed to get a grip on at least the edge of a thought, John worked some clever mischief and he fell down the hole again. “Such a pretty thing.”, John cooed, voice soft, “You must be aching. Come on, you can come. I want to see you completely wrecked on my lap.” In the end Sherlock didn’t even know what did it, just that he was stifling a scream in John’s shoulder and clinging to the other as his body spiralled out of control. Shortly he feared he would black out from the intense sensation but he was grounded firmly into reality by the presence of a warm body against his. It took a few gulping deep breaths before he even attempted to get up out of his crumpled position but he was held down. “Stay”, John hummed, “I won’t be responsible for any accidents that happen to you while your body is jello.” At first Sherlock wanted to protest but strangely he felt his body already relaxing back into the embrace and just went with it, his head resting on the doctor’s shoulder. To his surprise he felt calm. Calm and content and weirdly happy.

Jimin woke up to Yoongi hunched over his sink, clutching his chest as more and more petals fell from his mouth. “Yoon?” It came out groggy and weak, laced with sleep but the sight of a sink full of flowers was enough to make Jimin’s eyes fly wide open and get out of bed with a start. The mixture of pink, purple and scarily blood red petals made Jimin’s heart skip three beats and his grip on Yoongi’s arm was almost bruising. When the petals stop flowing out, the younger boy pulls the other into his arms, both of them sinking to the floor. Jimin expects Yoongi to cry, or scream, or throw up again. But he doesn’t. “Yoon, are you-?” When Jimin pulls away, he’s flabbergasted at the sight. Yoongi was emotionless. Face blank. No hint of any feelings Jimin expected him to feel. “You have to leave.” “What? Yoongi, I’m not-” “You…” A shaky breath. “Have to leave, Min. Please.” Yoongi waited. And waited but there was no movement between the both of them. “I’m not leaving until you tell me why.” Jimin was prepared to wait for hours because there was no way in hell- “You need to leave because you’re fucking hurting me. You’re the reason I’m even in this pain. Park Jimin, you need to fucking leave, or I will. Leave me alone. I fucking hate you. I hate you so much, I-” He’s cut off and suddenly he’s back in Jimin’s arms. “I hate you so much, Minnie-” A broken sob escapes Yoongi’s throat. “Hate you so much that I love you. I’m so fucking stupid, Minnie, please-” Jimin stopped listening. He couldn’t take it anymore. He’s the fucking asshole who did this to his Yoongi. He feels his whole world crash upon him because he’s been thinking about who it could be and it was himself the whole time. What’s he supposed to do? Force himself to bundle up the feelings that replicated Yoongi’s out of nowhere? “But Yoon, I do love you-” "No you don't! You don't love me that way, Minnie, you don't." "Yoon-" "You won't ever love me like I love you." "Then tell me how much you fucking love me." "What?" "Teach me how to love you like you love me. Because I find it quite impossible that you love me more than I love you." "But I do." "Then teach me how to love you." Yoongi doesn’t know how to respond. “I will.” “Swear on your life?’ “‘Course.” It began here. What, you might ask? Them. They began here.   You’re everywhere. I can’t escape you but I’m okay with that. As long as you never wither. I’m yours.   As Yoongi promised, he’s showing Jimin how to love him. At first, he had zero idea how. How do you teach someone to love you? Yoongi decided that simply showing Jimin how much Yoongi loved him was easier. “I thought you were showing me how you… Love me. Why are we at Han River? It’s almost 8:30 pm, Yoon-” The hesitance when Jimin said love made himself cringe. It’s awkward. Your best friend loves you but you don’t love him back. Not in that way. Jimin finds it hard to believe that it’s anything but awkward. They’re standing on the bridge and Yoongi’s looking over the railings while Jimin looks at him. “I know.” “Then why are we…?” “The water.” Yoongi points, disregarding Jimin’s question. “Reminds me of you.” “Why-?” “It’s calm. For now. It’s glistening even in the dark and it terrifies me but you terrify me too. You’re beautiful. Prettier than anything you can think of. The water chooses to be still but can turn on all of us in a second but it chooses not to. It could be beautiful chaos but it chooses to be just... Beautiful.” He’s breathless and by the time he finishes his last word, Yoongi is whispering. Although Jimin hasn’t spoken, he’s breathless as well. He takes a deep breath and exhales his best friend’s name. “Yoon.” But oh no, Yoongi’s not finished. “The sky. It’s dark and cascades over all of us. It’s choking me and it steals my air because it’s just that amazing but I love every second of it. It’s you. Everything’s you. You’re the night sky. You take away all my air and replace it with you but I’ll never be mad at you for that. And you see the moon up there? It’s your eyes. I get lost in them and begin to wander. People say brown eyes are all the same but yours are like black holes, sucking me up and trapping me in you. The moon makes me feel a million different things but it can never compare to your eyes, Minnie. Never.” How do you respond to someone who you can only classify as broken and stunning in all aspects? Jimin feels nothing but butterflies in stomach and his heart stops. He sees everything: the way the soft wind blows against Yoongi’s hair, his mouth that hasn’t changed from a neutral expression, everything. He stares at him in awe. Jimin never tore his eyes away from him. Yoongi finally turns his head to return Jimin’s gaze. It surprises the younger boy when he leans in closer and his hyung doesn’t move away. Instead, Yoongi closes his eyes and speaks. “Not yet. You don’t love me enough yet.” “It’s progress.” Jimin suggests breathlessly, eyes waiting ever-so-patiently for Yoongi’s to open again. When they do, all he can do is smile. They’re laced with angst but Jimin’s are laced with lust. “Yeah. It is.” “I really love you, you know? Much more than you love me.” “You might. But not in the way I feel about you.” “Soon, hyung.” “Soon?” Jimin grabs his hand and begins walking in a pace faster than Yoongi’s so it looks like he’s dragging him. He turns back and flashes a sincere grin. “Soon.”   You didn’t understand at first. But I made you understand. I think you love me a little more now. I still love you all the same.   This time, they’re at their school’s courtyard. It’s empty because of summer vacation and everything’s hotter than usual. “Why are we here this time, Yoon?” “Don't you remember?” Yoongi asks, the smallest smile dancing on his face. “Of course I do. I got my first split lip here.” Jimin winces at the memory and he can just taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. “And?” “And I met you here.” “Yeah.” A breathless response. “Yeah.” A breathless echo. “I fell in love with you here. People say it's never love at first sight but rather lust at first sight. I strongly disagree. In our case at least. I loved you then. I love you now.” “I don't understand how you even liked me then. I was so… Ordinary.” “You weren't.” Yoongi looks over at Jimin and smiles weakly. “You really weren't.” He walks over slowly to the end of the pavement and beginning of grass, sitting down on the green patch. Jimin follows in suit and looks over at the other intently, waiting for his explanation. “You were… Anything but ordinary. When I first saw you, you were beaten up. Soaked in water and tears. Bruised. You were shattered. You were supposed to be at least. You never gave up. They thought you did but I knew you before I even knew you. When I pushed past everyone, you gave me a look of… Hope. Like you were just waiting for me to pop up. Your clothes were the same as everyone else's but you were the perfect image of broken and I wanted to be the tape that stuck you back together.” Jimin pauses. It's a long pause, longer than any pause they've experienced before and Yoongi doesn't seem to mind. Jimin doesn't know what to say anymore. “Jimin?” “Yeah, hyung?” His voice cracks in the middle of his words and he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I stuck you back together. In the worst way possible.” “What do you mean?” Yoongi looks Jimin dead in the eye and he expects to see regret in his eyes but there's none. Yoongi doesn't regret anything. He does everything for a purpose. “I stuck you back together by ripping apart myself.” Jimin tears his eyes away. Yoongi expected him to. “I’d do the same for you.” whispers Jimin, turning his head back to face his best friend. He grabs his hand and Yoongi lets him. “I know.” replies Yoongi in the same tone. “I love you for that.” “I love you too.” It hits Jimin that he's finally okay with saying the words. There's no thoughts blocking him from doing so and he's another step closer to loving Yoongi more than he already does. Jimin stands up and pulls Yoongi up with him. “C’mon. Our favourite bubble tea shop is closing in like, ten minutes and if I don't get my strawberry banana boba, I'm literally going to hug you until you die.” He looks at Yoongi with a youthful twinkle in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips. Yoongi lets Jimin take him whenever he wants to go because anywhere with Jimin is perfectly fine with him.   You told me to never go anywhere. And I won't. Not without you. Take me wherever you want as long as I'm with you. I'm fucking whipped for you.   Something felt different. Not wrong, but different. They didn’t meet up separately like they did all the other times. They went to wherever Yoongi took them to together. The whole way there, they spoke like they were best friends because they still are even if everything should’ve been awkward. They aren’t like that and never will be. Yoongi kept his distance as usual, hands stuffed in his jean pockets but Jimin changed that as soon as he got the chance. He reached over and grabbed Yoongi’s hand out of his pocket, the only response he gets being a questionable smile. Jimin squeezes his hand and returns the smile. “Are we there yet?” Asks the younger, voice dripping with a childish flare. Yoongi feels his heart expand a million times larger and he feels the air leave his lungs. “You’ll see, Minnie.” He responds, all too fondly. After ten minutes, Jimin feels like they’re walking in circles and it takes him a few seconds to realize that they are. “Hyung? Why- Why are we walking in circles?” At Jimin’s realization, Yoongi immediately switches directions, heading back home with Jimin’s hand still in his. “Dude, what are you doing?” He laughs and Yoongi’s reminded of one of the many reasons he loves Jimin. “Chill, bitch. Trust me.” Jimin trusts him.   Big reveal, huh? It’s not very… Great I guess. It may seem meaningless to anyone else. But it’s not. To me. I hope it means something for you too.   “Yoon?” Jimin suppresses a giggle as the older fumbles with his keys to get the door open. There’s no response but Yoongi finally opens the door to his house and closes the door behind him, pulling Jimin up the stairs and to his bedroom. And suddenly, they’re back. It’s the same position they were in the night Jimin found Yoongi full of caffeine and distress, sat cross-legged, facing each other. It makes Jimin anxious but Yoongi’s still smiling. It’s a weak smile like he’s forcing off tears and it makes Jimin want to hold him again. “Here.” “Here?” Echoes a confused Jimin. “Yeah. Here. Here’s where…” “Where…?” A smile, to help coax out his best friend’s words. “Where we spent most of our important moments.” “Only most?” “Every moment is important with you.” Jimin’s breath hitches and normally he’d laugh because it was so cheesy but everything felt different this time. There wasn’t a teasing smile on Yoongi’s face and instead, it was a smile that felt so sure of himself that Jimin couldn’t help but take him seriously. “I knew I was in too deep here. I realized how perfect you were and it’s here when I realized you didn’t love me the way I love you.” There are tears in Yoongi’s eyes but they’re light enough for him to blink away. “God, I fucking love you.” “I really… Don’t understand why you love me… I’m… I’m really not anything special-” “But you are. You’re so fucking special. It’s everything about you that makes you special. You always make small gestures that show how much you care and it doesn’t matter who they are, but you make them feel like they’re the most important person in the world. You know how everyone works and can read anyone like an open book and that’s why everyone loves you. You know your boundaries yet aren’t some stuck-up prude that doesn’t do anything with his life. You never take care of yourself, you always put everyone else before you and do you know how much I want to take care of you for you? I want to be there in the morning to hold you and I want to be the person you wake up at 3 am when you have a bad dream. I want to give you all the love in the world because you deserve it. You deserve the entire galaxy and I want to be the one who gives you that.” “Shut up. Fucking, just shut up. I do fucking love you, I love you so fucking much, do you know how perfect you are, Yoongi? You play everything off like it’s nothing but you could be someone’s everything and you don’t even know it. You don’t even care about yourself enough, how are you going to care for me? Yoon,” Jimin’s eye soften and he grabs Yoongi’s hands, pulling him closer. “Yoon, you need to care about yourself too. And I promise, I swear on my life,” He leans in and they’re centimeters away from each other. “I swear I’ll care about you more than I ever have to make sure you do that.” Jimin trails his hands up to cup Yoongi’s cheeks and Yoongi swears to God he can just die right now. He closes his eyes and just feels the atmosphere change when Jimin presses his lips to his, moving languidly as Yoongi follows in suit. Yoongi’s body stills and it’s as if the literal factor of life has been drained out of him. He feels something surge in his chest and it’s a bundle of emotions like lust and love and desire and happiness and Jimin and- flowers. In a matter of seconds, Yoongi shoves him away, running towards his bathroom sink to throw up petals and saliva. Jimin’s brain is unable to process anything but the thought dawns on him. He scrunches up the bed sheets in his hands out of rage and disbelief, angry tears blurring his vision. You can’t make someone love you. Love is an illusion in itself. And pretending to love someone is the whole magic show.

Dream whimpered quietly, holding onto Sapnap’s shirt tighter. He was currently cockwarming his boyfriend while they watched a movie together. Well, Dream wasn’t really watching. No, he was sitting as still as possible, just as the raven haired man asked. Another whimper fell from his red bitten lips as Sapnap shifted in his seat slightly. Hands gripped his waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the skin that was showing from under his hoodie. “You’re doing so good, Dreamie. Just a bit longer. You can handle it, yeah?” Sapnap murmured softly, placing a little kiss on the blond’s ear afterwards. Dream whined a little, but nodded along with what he was saying. A small smile came to the ravenet’s face and he focused back onto the movie. After a little while the movie was finally over. If Dream could move on his own, he’d do a little victory dance. Gentle hands pulled the blond’s face from Sapnap’s shoulder and a little kiss was planted on Dream’s forehead. “Such a good boy for me, Dreamie. So proud of you for being patient. I think you deserve a reward now, don’t you?” Sapnap said in a hushed voice. The words were dripping with obvious adoration and love; it made Dream’s chest warm. The older nodded enthusiastically making Sap chuckle. After kissing his boyfriend softly, Sapnap moved his hands to the blond’s hips and lifted him carefully before slowly bringing him back down. The movement made Dream moan breathily and throw his head back, gripping the white t-shirt Sapnap had on a little tighter. A pleased hum came from Sapnap when Dream began taking control of the movements. He let his arms stop moving completely; just resting in place to hold his boyfriend. “Sappy, feels s’good,” whispered Dream. One of his hands let go of Sapnap’s shirt and found its way to the younger’s, resting on top of it. “Yeah? Feeling good, babydoll? God, you look so pretty for me,” he groaned back, squeezing Dream’s hips slightly. The pace they had fallen into wasn’t fast at all but neither cared. Each move of Dream’s hips took their breaths away. The older rolled his hips once more and moaned loudly. A grunt fell from Sapnap as Dream tightened around him. The blond was whimpering, hips stuttering, as that one spot was abused by his boyfriend’s cock. Hands held him still, forcing him to stay put. “So tight, Dreamie,” the younger mumbled out. He looked up at the boy on top of him and almost came at the sight. Dream was completely and utterly wrecked. His eyes were hazy and constantly rolling to the back of his head. One of his own hands had made its way into the blond’s mouth. He was drooling around them, slight pants and high pitched whimpers forming around the digits. The hoodie he was wearing was bunched up in the front and Sapnap had a perfect view of his dick gently hitting his tummy each time he bounced. He looked breathtakingly beautiful like this, which the ravenet thought to be unfair. How could one person look so good while being so destroyed? “Sappy, he’p me m’ve..” Dream whined around the fingers. Sapnap grinned slightly at the slurred speech. “What was that, Dreamie? Gonna have to say that a little clearer.” A loud whine came from the boy on top of him. “P’ease, Sappy. M’ve me,” he whimpered, keeping his eyes open long enough to speak to Sap. The raven-haired male groaned softly and lifted his boy’s hips gently before bringing him back into the sitting position. Dream moaned as his prostate was stimulated once more. He tried lifting his hips up to get more but soon found out that he was feeling too tired to do so. A frustrated huff fell from his spit-slicked lips. “Sappy,” he whined, dragging out the ‘y,’ “can’t move.” “Sure you can, babydoll,” his boyfriend responded with a small hum. Dream shook his head slowly and looked into his eyes pleadingly. “Ohh,” Sapnap smirked a bit, “you want me to help you? ‘S that it, Dreamie Boy?” This time, Dream was the one responding with a hum. He nodded and looked at the younger with furrowed brows and a slight pout, “Can’t do it m’self. Wan’ you to,” he mumbled softly. Sapnap pressed a kiss to the older’s forehead before rolling their hips together. Dream scrambled to move his hands to Sap’s shoulders, gripping onto him for support. He leaned down and rested his head in the crook of Sapnap’s neck on top of his hand. It was slightly uncomfortable because of the drool on said hand, but he didn’t really care. Small moans were pulled out of him each time the younger would roll their hips together. He was enjoying the slow pace, but soon came to the conclusion that it wasn’t enough. “More,” he whimpered into Sap’s neck. The younger shivered at the warm breath on his neck and stopped moving completely. A small sob was heard from the boy on his lap and he gently lifted Dream’s head from his neck. “Stopped,” he panted, small tears rolling down his face, “why?” Sapnap cooed at him and wiped away some of the tears. “Don’t cry, pretty boy. I just wanted to check in on you. What’s your color?” he asked softly. “Green,” Dream breathed out, resting his forehead on the other male’s. Sapnap smiled a bit and kissed the blond’s nose, “I’m gonna go a bit faster, okay? Say the safeword or tap my arm three times if you want to stop or slow down.” Dream nodded along and Sapnap slowly began thrusting again. Over time he sped up significantly. He held the older’s hips tight enough to leave bruises and lifted him just the perfect height so he could easily fuck up into the boy. Dream moved his hand to his mouth again to keep it busy as he was fucked. Broken moans and gasps were forced out around the fingers as Sapnap sped up some more. “There you go, babes,” he moaned, looking at Dream’s blissed out expression, “doing so fucking good for me. Such a pretty boy aren’t you?” He could feel his orgasm approaching quickly, thrusts turning sloppy, and breathing getting heavier. “Fuck, baby, ‘m close. You feel so good around me, God,” he breathed out, placing quick kisses wherever he could reach. Dream sobbed around the fingers in his mouth and held onto Sapnap tightly with the other arm. His eyes rolled and his back arched as he came all over himself and Sapnap, effectively dirtying his hoodie and Sap’s shirt. Not even a minute later, his boyfriend thrusted one last time and spilled deep into him. He whimpered and looked up at the ravenet from his slouched position adoringly. His eyes were unfocused and he couldn’t really comprehend anything other than the love he felt for the younger boy.

Bucky rolled over, haphazardly patting the sheets in search of their cellphone. Finding it, they pushed the home button and squinted awkwardly at the all too bright light. It was 3:47 AM and they were yet to get anything that resembled sleep. Steve had gone home around eleven and things had seemed to be alright. Except there was no way that they could be alright. Bucky hauled themself out of bed and padded downstairs. Steve had been shocked, of course, and Bucky had managed to avoid actually talking about it. They had resumed "normal life", watching a movie and eating pizza until Bucky's mom and the younger girls got home. At that point, Bucky was subjected to a slow form of torture, sandwiched between Steve and Rebecca on the couch. The girls wanted to show Bucky what they got. Of course they did. And Bucky was polite and responsive, ooing and awing at all the right things they showed him. Nail polishes, dresses, cardigans and all the things that made a slow jealousy grow in the pit of Bucky's stomach. They must have tensed up at some point because Steve shifted slightly to lean more into them, trying to provide some comfort without being too obvious. And Bucky didn't know how to deal with that. The fact that Steve hadn't backpedaled out of the room was...boggling. The fact that he'd asked if Bucky was trans, and had basically said that he was going to be there no matter what, more so. Bucky should have expected it, really. They'd been friends for so long, and Steve was such a genuinely good person. But actually hearing him make attempts at being supportive? It flew in the face of all of Bucky's nightmares and that was terrifying for some reason. Steve's support meant something about all of this could be valid. Bucky sniffled their way through the dark living room and back upstairs to their bedroom. The thought of being valid shouldn't have been scary, really, but it was. It was scary to think that everything they had been feeling could be real. It was scary to even imagine talking to Steve more openly about it. That was a giant leap to take from doing things in secret that seemed to peel away some of the tension and actually being this way. It had taken everything Bucky had to go home and change into the clothes that they had bought for themself. Before that, it had been everything to paint their toe nails and have a little secret as they walked around the normal world. Before that, the decision to grow out their hair... There were a lot of little steps to get up to this point. Bucky stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of their door and stared at their reflection. A lot of little steps didn't seem to amount to anything when the reflection still looked so wrong. Not that they had any idea of what would look right. Did they want to be more like their mother, their sisters or did they want to be something else entirely? Was it really a woman that they expected or wanted to see there, or... what? They were quietly thankful that Steve hadn't asked "what are your preferred pronouns?" because they honestly wouldn't have been able to cough up an answer that wasn't convoluted and awful. "Well, you see, Steve... I think of myself as 'they' a lot because I'm not comfortable with 'he' but I'm afraid of 'she' so." So. Bucky continued to stare into the mirror, taking in a lungful of air. Try it out, it can't be that hard. It can't actually be scary. You're just thinking alone. She. She. She stared into the mirror and wondered about her body and her life. None of what she was feeling actually had anything to do with the clothes that she bought or that she envied that her sisters got to wear. The nail polish she was wearing was insignificant, and even the way her hair curled around her ears... but she couldn't describe what she was feeling if she had to. She tried to imagine talking to Steve about it. "I look in the mirror and see someone else," she whispered to herself, and that didn't quite sound right. That sounded like she was losing her mind. She chewed her lip, running her hand down her body, "...I look in the mirror and it just... isn't what I expect. But I don't know... what I expect." Great, that sounded stupid, but it was at the very least more accurate. She didn't know what she actually expected or wanted to see in the mirror. Touching herself in front of the mirror, there was nothing precise about what she wanted or didn't want. Just, difference of expectation and a dreaded inability to articulate what that meant. Her shoulders slumped and she turned away from the mirror. She had started to grow her hair out because she thought that it might ease some of that expectation for difference. She supposed that it did, but at the same time, it made other things more apparent. Her shoulders were too broad (for what?), her hips too narrow (for what?), and her jaw too square. She looked down at her hands. Even her hands... She couldn't spend time thinking about that. She tipped herself, letting her weight drag her down onto her bed. She couldn't spend time listing everything that was wrong because that always ended badly for her. Everything was wrong. Everything was wrong, and everything was hopeless because she would never be able to change anything. That would require actually admitting to what she felt, actually talking to people, and actually doing things outside of the confines of her bedroom. Maybe Steve catching her was for the best. Maybe, but it still felt terrible and embarrassing. Why had she even been trying to put on a bra? It wasn't like she needed one. Bucky lifted her head and looked towards her dresser, where she had stuffed all of her clothes. Out of sight, still horribly in mind. The bra had been a snap decision. It was plain, black, an A cup. She didn't actually have breasts to fill those cups, but that had been irrelevant in the moment. She had just wanted to. To. Her teeth dug into her lip. She had wanted the experience. The experience. That was the worst thing about listening to her mother and sisters coming back from a shopping trip. She could give a shit about the clothes, she wanted the experience. She wanted to closeness that the girls shared, sisterhood, and the easy way their mother related to them. She felt like a martian in comparison, the only "male" in the household. Early on, she had wondered if that was where her feelings were coming from. Maybe she felt ill at ease with being called a boy because she had grown up with so many women? It occurred to her later on that it didn't matter whether or not she was surrounded by girls or boys, she didn't feel like she belonged. There were other experiences that the girls got that she knew she never would. Rebecca had gone on a date with a boy from her class, and their mother had been so happy. The younger girls had sneered and joked, but that moment between Rebecca and their mom... Bucky would kill for it. Of course, that would require more talking and explaining what she was feeling. There were more confused thoughts and half formed longings. Whenever she thought about dating, she thought about Steve and the closeness that they shared. She'd have to be a complete idiot to miss the fact that Steve liked her, but that was a problem. Steve liked her as a boy. He'd never said as much, but it was easy to guess and observe. Steve was all eyes for Bucky's body as it was. Bucky couldn't bear the thought of caving in, bringing their relationship to that level, and then disappointing Steve with what she actually was. He hadn't run, though. He'd said he was supportive. But supportive didn't mean 'I'm still attracted to you but pretending not to be'. Bucky's life was turning out to be a fucking mess. She picked the threadbare stuffed rabbit off the shelf above her bed and curled up around it. • • • Steve looked almost as tired as Bucky felt, but he gave her a smile in the hallway at school. She had resolved herself to keep using female pronouns when thinking about herself. Just to try it out. It turned out to be like a bandaid. Now that she had started to think about herself as a her it felt strange to use 'they' and outright repugnant to use 'he'. That was why taking steps was scary. Sometimes, they stuck, and there was no going back. How was she going to cope now? "Hey, Buck," Steve's voice was deep and gravelly beside her, "how'd you sleep?" "I didn't, really," Bucky answered, opening her locker, "you look like shit." "You're so nice to me," Steve chuckled, leaning his back up against the lockers and digging some cough drops out of his pocket, "little wonder you're my best friend." "I'm a charmer," Bucky smiled weakly, shoving some books in the locker. The fact that Steve was going for cough drops meant that he was probably getting a cold. She got a pang of worry in her chest, but it was accompanied by relief. Maybe he looked like shit because he was sick, not because he'd stayed up all night thinking about the freak show that was his best friend. "Mhm. Hey, Buck..." Steve looked around and Bucky felt his heart seize up in his chest. Shit, she was wrong. He had stayed up all night thinking. She swallowed down her panic. "Yeah?" "Is it ok to call you Buck?" Bucky nodded quickly. She had no idea what else she would be called. Vaguely, she wondered if her insistence on being called Bucky had something to do with being uncomfortable with James. She had started going by Bucky at a young age. It had initially been a nickname, played off of her middle name and the fact that she was ridiculously buck toothed. Now, it felt like a shield. "Alright," Steve nodded to himself, sucking on a cough drop, "and, uh..." "Steve. Not here," Bucky's voice was tight and her tone seemed to jar Steve into looking around him again. He looked at her and nodded, the bags under his eyes punctuating how tired they both were. "Yeah, sorry. Can I text you?" Again, Bucky nodded. Texting might be easier. Might be. It did leave behind evidence of a conversation that speaking never did. Speaking aloud, you couldn't scroll back up and over analyze words. Someone walking by couldn't have access to the whole conversation, just overhead snippets that could be played off as something else. She'd delete the texts that Steve sent her. That was going to have to be the way that it was. "Alright," Steve reached out and squeezed her arm, "I'll see you at lunch." • • • Steve: I stayed up reading last night. Bucky: Good? Steve: :( Buck Bucky: Sorry. What were u reading? Steve: Trans stuff. Bucky: What if I was just crossdressing?? Steve: Were you? Bucky: Asshole. Steve: Your favorite. :) Steve: What are your preferred pronouns? Bucky: IDK. Steve: Ok. Tell me when you know? • • • They sat shoulder to shoulder at lunch, in relative silence. Bucky felt like he was crawling out of his skin, wanting to ask Steve what he had been reading. What he was currently reading. He had something pulled up on his smart phone and was occasionally glancing to the side at Bucky. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "What are you reading?" "Uhh... an article called 'What the Heck is Genderqueer'." Bucky raised her eyebrows, shuffling a little closer to Steve to read over his shoulder. She was what she would describe as a 'binge reader' when it came to gender issues. She'd get wound up to the point where she felt like she was going to explode, would read everything she could get her hands on at around two or three in the morning. Then she'd cry, and forget everything she'd read or convince herself that it wasn't about her. It was hard for her to focus on the article in Steve's hand, even though he was tilting it so that she could read, too. Finally, she looked away. "Huh." "Interesting," Steve set his phone down and looked at her, leaning his head in his hand, "I'm sorry if I'm being... I don't know. Too much?" "You're not, I just..." Bucky gestured, as if her hands could convey everything that she was feeling that she couldn't quite get out of her mouth, "I'm not ready." Steve nodded, leaning against her slightly, "I'm here, when you are." Bucky couldn't help but lean back into Steve. Maybe, maybe he wouldn't abandon her. Maybe there could be something. Maybe she wouldn't have to be alone through this. Something about that thought lifted her spirits and made it seem more of a possibility rather than some abstract and terrifying notion. She looked at Steve, then slowly reached over, catching his hand in hers. He squeezed his fingers around hers.

  What was the Midgardian saying again? Ah yes, when it rains, it pours. “News of Asgard’s twilight has reached the stars, My King,”  announced Heimdall as soon as Thor and the Valkyrie entered the room they’d been using for their “council” meetings. “Without Asgard and her protection, foes have seen fit to attack the Realms.” “It seems the Norns wish to give us no respite, King Thor of Asgard.” Before him stood the projection of King Freyr, Monarch of Alfheim, uncle of Thor.  Queen Gerd, wife of Freyr, stood beside him. “Not even a month since Ragnarok, and a deathly force that calls itself the Black Order stands to attack Alfheim,” Freyr announced. “It would indeed seem so, Uncle,” he nodded, giving his uncle’s projection a good look. Freyr’s sky blue cape flowed freely from his shoulders, suggesting that they stood outside in the wind, and not within the palace. His blonde hair, the same colour as his elder sister’s, was neatly tied down into a long braid, and his crown did not sit on his head, but he looked no less regal. He was heavily armed and even more heavily armoured; his bow and its loaded quiver slung over his shoulders and his famed sword Sumarbrander hung on his belt. His grim yet determined countenance suggested that preparations were already underway. Ready for war. “Still referring to us with familial terms, Nephew?” Queen Gerd questioned somewhat playfully, lightening the grim mood. She was dressed in deep blue traditional Ljosalfar combat-mage robes. Several daggers hung by her belt, and her long red hair was intricately tied into a braided bun in stark contrast to the flowing Asgardian styles his mother used to wear. Her own silver rapier hung by her belt. However lightly she spoke, she was, he could see, very much ready for war too. “Would you wish for anything different, dear Aunt?” Thor asked back. “If we’re done with greetings,” Loki interrupted somewhat acerbically, “I believe we have an enemy army to prepare for.” “Prince Loki is right,” Heimdall agreed. “Every minute is precious, Your Majesties.” Thor nodded, but then noticed that the other new Councillors were still present in the room: the scheduled Council meet (one that Thor had skipped initially) had been interrupted by grim news from Alfheim, but their normal meet was still technically in progress. “The Council is dismissed,” he commanded, nodding in the general direction of Lords Hoenir and Vidar and Ladies Idunn and Eir.  “But — ” Lord Hoenir protested, frowning. “The council is dismissed,” Thor repeated, with more force in his voice, leaving no room for argument. “The only ones required to stay are Heimdall, the Valkyrie, and Loki. The rest may leave. Once we've discussed our options, you shall be informed of our decisions.” Ladies Idunn and Eir nodded brusquely, bowed and headed towards the door, Lords Vidar and Hoenir trailing behind somewhat reluctantly. “Lady Eir,” Thor called out to her before she made her exit, as she turned around and tilted her head in acknowledgement. “You’ve seen firsthand the cruelty the enemies we face are capable of.” A shared glance between them told him that neither needed it to be said out loud to understand what was being referred to. “I would request of you to prepare what  healers and seidmenn we have left for what we might witness soon, and caution those who you can contact in Alfheim too.” “Yes, King Thor,” she replied curtly but politely, nodding as she turned back. Now that that matter was resolved, he turned back to the Elven-King. “How long do we have?” “At the rate they approach? About a day.”  Shit. “Elven-King,” the Valkyrie asked, frowning grimly at the short time span they’d been handed, “would you inform us what you know of the approaching army’s strengths and numbers?” “The approaching army currently stands just outside the system’s heliosphere and is heading towards us with great speed,” Freyr stated, as he summoned a projection of the Alfheimr solar system. Thor frowned in contemplation as he gave the projection and all five planets in the system a good look. “Their army surrounds us from three fronts: one targeting Aengus, another jointly heading for Dagda and Morrigan, which you can see are quite close to each other at this point in their orbits, and the third targeting Alfheim Proper herself.”  The Elven solar system had five planets; Esus, Aengus, Alfheim, Dagda, and Morrigan respectively, in order of their distance from their star. Alfheim, often referred to Alfheim Proper to distinguish between the planet and the solar system, was the second-largest planet (the first being Dagda, a gas giant) and the true home of the Ljosalfar. Aengus, one of Dagda’s moons Dana, and Morrigan, all three of them once barren, lifeless places ages ago, were now relatively small but thriving colonies under the rule of Alfheim. Esus, with no atmosphere, no elements necessary to sustain life, and no remarkable resources, had never been colonized. From the projection, Thor could see the three separate battlefronts clearly: on the Alfheimr system’s ecliptic plane, Aengus, the second planet from their star, was about an angle of 120 degrees from Alfheim Proper, about a distance of 3.4 microparsecs*; Dagda and Morrigan, on the other hand, in addition to being much farther from their star in general, also happened to be on the exact opposite end of the ecliptic plane from Alfheim at this point in their orbits, about a distance of  29. 6 microparsecs and 38.1 microparsecs respectively. All three Colonies were far enough from Alfheim to warrant their own separate battlefronts. In one detail, though, Thor frowned in confusion: at this point in their respective orbits, Dagda and Morrigan were relatively close to each other, yes, but close enough for a single battlefront to cover the invasions of both planets? Not at all. A single battlefront for both would stretch the Black Order’s forces over a distance of 15.7 microparsecs, and surely such a stretched out army would pose a tactical disadvantage for the Black Order? It was odd, but Thor let it slide. “According to what information our scrying has yet yielded, most of the soldiers we face are Kree,” Freyr explained, manipulating the projection to give them a better look of the battlefield and displaying further information on their enemy. “The strength of their numbers varies from front to front: on the Aengan front, our scryers estimate there are some three hundred thousand enemy combatants; some six hundred thousand on the Danan-Morriganic front; on the Elven front,” Freyr’s expression turned grimmer, and he swallowed, “over one and a quarter million.” Thor blinked, taking a moment to process the grim information. One and a quarter million Kree soldiers heading for Alfheim Proper. Nine hundred thousand more aiming for her system’s colonies.  Oh, Norns. “Is there anything else you know of our enemy?” Loki questioned, brow burrowed in thought. “Have you, perchance,” he looked up, biting his lip, “scryed a glimpse of Ronan the Accuser of the Kree?” “Fortunately, no,” Freyr replied solemnly. “While most of the forces seem Kree, there is no sign of the Accuser or the Power Gem.” Thor heaved a sigh of relief. Ever since Ronan the Accuser gained possession of the Power Gem and obliterated Xandar in a quest for vengeance, none of those who stood accused, no planet that fell in his path of Kree domination and vengeance, had survived his wrath. Their odds were horrifying as things were; it was a mercy that they did not face the Accuser too.  Or, at least, not know of it. “What are our strengths in numbers and ships?” the Valkyrie questioned. “Close to three hundred Cernunnos Class battleships operational and in several levels of orbit in the exosphere of Alfheim Proper, over half of them already manned; the manning of the rest of them is in progress, as is the launch of about a hundred more. The flagship Taranis leads them. The Colonies have been alerted and have upped their security levels. About fifty destroyer battleships are being sent to each of the three over the course of today.” Freyr explained, displaying a holographic map of their defences, as the Aesir nodded. “Closer to the ground, mages have already begun preparations to deploy a planet-wide magical force-field to stretch across the exosphere right below the lowest positioned orbits of the battleships.” Gerd continued, as the projection changed to illustrate preparations on the ground. “Our total numbers are about four hundred and fifty thousand combat personnel defending Alfheim Proper, about a hundred thousand each in the Colonies, a reserve force of about a hundred thousand currently undergoing mobilization, some sixty thousand healers and seventy thousand support units distributed accordingly, and an additional three thousand mages upholding and preparing protective shields on all four locations.” She explained, as the projections rapidly changed to elaborate and illustrate further the scope and preparedness of their troops, as Thor hastily counted the numbers, his eyes widening with every additional figure Gerd mentioned. “All forces included,” she concluded, “our numbers come close to a million.” “A million — ” Thor questioned in disbelief. When had Alfheim militarized so readily and efficiently? And never could Thor remember a time when the Elven army stood so massive in numbers; indeed, the Aesir-Elven war of ages bygone had barely had half of that! “Barely years ago Alfheim didn’t have so much as a hundred thousand!” he questioned, a flare of hope now gradually rising in his chest; however this had happened, if this was true, then they perhaps stood a chance. “Oh, you didn’t know?” Gerd tilted her head curiously. “You, Nephew, it seems, have spent the last few years outside the Nine.”  “Indeed I have spent much of it beyond our roots of Yggdrasil, Aunt,” Thor affirmed. Except for quelling a few rebels in the minor colonies of the Vanaheim system, his time on Midgard during the Ultron fiasco, and his inevitably ill-fated quest to Muspelheim to retrieve Surtur’s crown, he had been beyond the Nine Realms, searching for traces of the Infinity Stones.  “Have such great changes occurred within my short absence?” “Yes, dear Nephew. Several, since the ill-fated Svartalfar attack on the Golden Realm. Treaties of friendship, of mutual defence, of greater military independence amongst Asgard and the Realms, between Vanaheim and Alfheim, between Nidavellir and Alfheim, between Vanaheim and Nidavellir. Never before had the Nine seen such rapid change in policies both military and peaceful. Policies that may become our saving grace today, Nephew.” Freyr explained. “Thanks, no less,” Freyr continued, “to Odin these past three years. It seems to me he realized that Ragnarok was upon us, wise one that he was, and prepared the rest of the Nine the best he could for dealing with Asgard’s inevitable demise.” Loki snorted at that. “You truly revere the Allfather well beyond what he ever deserved, my dear Uncle,” Loki commented, the corner of his lips quirking upwards into a knowing smirk. Indeed, Freyr always had admired Father too much, Thor knew. Too much to realize, now, that it was he whose mistakes, and Thor could admit this much, had brought Ragnarok upon them. “But then, perhaps that’s what made you the monarch of the Ljosalfar, was it not?” Loki challenged. “Your silver tongue has yet to wane, Nephew, I see,” Lady Gerd raised an eyebrow and smiled, amused by Loki’s (probably accurate) observation. “Only you, dear Loki, would be so bold. Only you!” “ Someone in this family has to work on our communication skills after all, Aunt,” he replied simply, that knowing smirk of his growing wider.  Queen Gerd’s tone was light and amused as before, but her smile faded to be replaced by a slight frown. “What do you not tell us, nephews?” she said, aptly reading Loki’s amused expression. That it wasn’t Odin Allfather but Loki who had sat on the Hlidskjalf these past three years. That it was Loki who engineered every single one of the recent treaties between Alfheim and Asgard, between Nidavellier and Asgard, between Vanaheim and Asgard, that they spoke of. That it was he who encouraged the Realms to militarize, allowed them to become as independent of Asgard’s protection as they could, to rebel, even, in some cases. That it was Odin’s mistakes, and Thor was no longer so blinded to not admit this, as both a ruler and a father that brought Ragnarok upon their home. Truly, Thor had made the correct decision in foregoing the throne; said decision had allowed Thor, the warrior and the explorer, to physically hunt down the trail of the Infinity Gems, and given leeway to Loki, the diplomat and the manipulator, to set into action his own inter-realm machinations that seemed necessary for the protection of the Nine. He’d never have been made aware of the threat posed by the Gems, let alone been able to learn half as much as he had done in these last few years, had he, like what Thor of his youth had always dreamed of, accepted the duty of the Hlidskjalf. It had been the right decision to make. “Nothing that is of import at the moment.” Loki shrugged dismissively, his smirk dissipating. “There are more important things that need discussing.” “Oh, but wasn’t it you who just said that our extended family needs to work on its communication?” Gerd challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Contradicting your own statements is most unlike you, dear Loki.” “What he alludes to is the fact that Father did none of what you credit him for, Uncle Freyr,” Thor said finally, as both Gerd and Freyr’s eyebrows shot up in incredulity. Then, turning his head to Loki, he added, “this is very much of import, Brother.” Turning back to address the Elven monarchs, “After the Svartalfar attack, Loki tricked Odin and took the throne under his guise. All changes in inter-realm politics in the past four years have been Loki’s doing.” “He — I beg your pardon?” Freyr gaped. “You heard him right, King Freyr,” Loki conceded, his lips quirking upwards, “It was me these past four years; the real Odin I had sent to Midgard.” Freyr looked positively flabbergasted, and somewhat scandalized, so Loki added, “And before you ask, not only was Odin getting too old to bear the weight of the throne, he had also planned to go so far as to destroy Asgard the war against the Svartalfar; he was in no way fit to rule further, both physically and mentally. So you’re welcome.” “....Well played, Nephew,” Gerd sighed, but Thor could see her lips turn up into a thin smile, “well played indeed.” Loki shot her a mischievous smirk in response; out of their extended family, Loki probably did like Aunt Gerd the most. “Now that that’s been resolved,” Heimdall interrupted, “I believe it prudent to pursue further strategic questions. First and foremost: our enemy has over twice the number of forces as us. How do we plan on countering that?” “I believe I need not state that Asgard, as it stands now, would, unfortunately, be unable to lend much assistance beyond a select few warriors such as myself,” Thor sighed. “However, would Vanaheim, perhaps be able to lend a hand?” Thor, to his increasing consternation, was pretty sure he heard Loki smile to himself and mutter ‘well, wouldn’t that play out well?’ under his breath. “We’ll alert King Njord then,” King Freyr agreed. “Vanaheim, I have no doubt, will make haste in sending their troops to defend Alfheim.” They discussed their strategy for some more time, going over the Black Order’s likely motives, noting the stark absence of Thanos, or even Ronan, who, in the case of several Nova planets and Skrull strongholds, personally led the Black Order’s campaign of obliteration and bloodshed, and asked King Njord and his daughter (and Thor’s aunt) Princess Freyja of Vanaheim for their assistance. : Vanaheim would be sending an additional five hundred thousand troops from their army of approximately one and a half million. Eventually, the Elven-King and Queen left to oversee their own preparations, leaving the Asgardians to deliberate what further action they could take from their side.  It was generally agreed that Asgard, with not even three thousand people remaining — most of them, if not widows and orphans, then merchants or lesser nobles: not warriors — would be utterly unable to send any troops to Alfheim. Thor himself, however, despite Heimdall’s initial misgivings, would come to their assistance, and so would the few Sakaaran gladiators that banded together with them, led by Korg and Miek, if they wished to do so. They would leave for Alfheim, they had decided, at dawn tomorrow, which gave them the rest of the night to plan further. “Would it be wise to inform the Mortals of this?” Heimdall questioned once the projections of King Freyr and Queen Gerd had dissipated. “We’re in a rather precarious political situation here,” Loki answered, “as such, we haven’t even been granted nationhood yet, and while I have no qualms that we would ensure that New Asgard gets to maintain her prior relations with the rest of the Nine, such has not been approved yet. Neither do most Midgardian authorities know of the danger the Titan and his army poses. As such, I would not advise you to inform any Midgardian authorities of this.” “What about the Avengers?” Thor questioned further. “And Wakanda?” “I wouldn’t advise against that; besides, you should inform your Midgardian allies, since they too know that they face the same threat as us since their homeworld — our homeworld now — could be next,” he conceded. “Moreover, we would be gone for a few days in the least, and we need someone with enough influence here to cover for our absence, a role King T’Challa fits into aptly. So yes, do call on King T’Challa and Tony.” Thor nodded in agreement. It was a sound idea. “Plus,” Loki shrugged, but he could see a smile tugging at his lips, “We could always do with a Hulk.” “Heimdall, please see to it that it’s done,” Thor commanded, as Heimdall nodded. Thor did, however, wish to bring another group of allies to their assistance. “And, uh, Loki,” he turned to his brother, who tilted his head in a motion that said ‘go on’. “There’s one more group of people I wish to bring into this. I want to know your opinion on the idea.”  It would, after all, be wasteful to forego the assistance of more allies. Moreover, one thing Thor knew was that fighting a common enemy was a sure-shot way of mending a burnt bridge between those like him. and that it was a split they would have to repair sooner or later anyway, and with what was on the line, better sooner than later. Thor told him. “Reforging an alliance, however uneasy, by giving them a common enemy, I see. I wonder where that idea came from,” Loki commented dryly, then said teasingly, “I’m only kidding, Brother, but I have to say, you’ve grown smarter, or, at least, started using that thick head of yours for once. And yes, it could work, if done properly.” Thor smiled; perhaps, when this battle was won, he could get his shield brothers to mend that one bridge again. It didn’t take long for King T’Challa, as well as Tony (with Vision communicating via holographic projection), Natasha and Bruce to be summoned into their stateroom and be informed of the battle the Asgardians faced. With a grim but determined expression, Thor and the Asgardians told them of their enemy, their numbers, and their possible plans.  King T’Challa, bless his infinite hospitality and kindness, almost immediately took charge of handling and mitigating any Midgardian geopolitical consequences that might arise from this battle; and while he obviously couldn’t send the Wakandan army, he pledged to prepare Wakanda the best he could in case Earth was next on the Black Order’s radar. Tony, Bruce, Vision and Natasha, for their part, practically demanded to come along to fight, and Thor was glad to enlist their help. “One question though,” Natasha said after they’d finished briefing them about what they knew, “why go for Alfheim first? Why not Earth, wouldn’t that make more sense?” “Yeah, why not attack Midgard first?” The Valkyrie nodded. “By all standards, it is the weakest of the Nine, and sits right at the centre of Yggdrasil, making it strategically important.” “Several plausible reasons: firstly,” Loki explained, “the Other — who likely leads the Black Order’s forces — whatever else he is, is cautious, prefers certainty. And Midgard, he now knows, is by its very nature, a wildcard; Alfheim was his chosen target because other realms make even less appealing alternatives: two dead, one blown into pieces, two protected well by the elements, one impossibly hard to locate for anyone not of the Realms, and Vanaheim, which has a bigger standing army than Alfheim,” he answered. “ Or, he could be after something very specific.” “Such as an Infinity Stone,” Tony muttered grimly. “Such as an Infinity Stone,” Loki agreed equally grimly. “But Alfheim holds none,” Thor added, frowning in puzzlement. “They do not ?” Heimdall questioned, baffled. “Wasn’t the Time Stone given as an offering to the Mystic Order of the Temple of the Norns a few millennia ago?” “Yeah, that was five thousand years ago, Gatekeeper; it could very well be anywhere else now,” the Valkyrie replied. “I don’t see any point in chasing leads that old, even if they have no other one to follow.” “That too.” Thor nodded, then added. “And... I think the Time Stone’s here in Midgard.” “You think — what ?” Loki questioned, frowning in surprise, as every head in the room turned to him. “The wizard we encountered back when we came to Earth to retrieve Father, you remember him?” Thor elaborated. “The locket in his neck, I think it was a vessel used to wield the Stone, for I’ve seen similar vessels illustrated in whatever few tomes I could find on the Infinity Stones in the past three years of my searches.” Thor was very much expecting a caustic remark on him being able to read, but what he got instead was an appalled look from Loki that could either mean something horrifyingly terrible or something mildly, but frustratingly inconvenient, but nothing in between. And it was, with his brother, nearly impossible to distinguish which was which. “ That second-rate amateur guards the Time Stone ?” Loki muttered disbelievingly, visibly struggling to process that bit of information for a few moments, then letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, Norns .” “I think he used it to refill my beer mug. I think.” “We’re doomed,” Loki muttered, now staring off into space. “The universe is doomed.” “Okay…” the Valkyrie nodded slowly, “More importantly,” she questioned, “would it be wise to involve him in this battle?” “No, I doubt so,” Heimdall replied. “If he joins us in this endeavour, we will inevitably give out the location of the Time Stone to our enemies. I do not think the Black Order knows of its location just yet, so it would be very inadvisable to give it to them by involving this Midgardian wizard in it. I believe it would be better, my King, to avoid confronting him for now.” “I would agree,” Loki nodded, then shrugged and added, “if mostly due to my own apprehensions regarding associating with him.” “Anyway, it’s not the Time Stone they’re after, unless the Black Order deems it prudent to pursue information aged five millennia,” Heimdall added. “Meaning they’re after something else.” “Could it be another stone?” Natasha questioned, her face morphing into a thoughtful frown. “The Mind Stone, and apparently the Time Stone too, are on Earth,” Tony counted. “We have wizards on Earth now, huh. Nice. Anyway, I think you said the Power Stone is with this guy… uh, what was the name? Roman?” “Ronan the Accuser of the Kree Empire, and he is an ally of the Black Order,” Thor informed them grimly. “We believe most of the Kree forces that man our enemy are actually his. Although he seems to be absent from the actual fight.” “Yeah, well, shit. They already have one outta six.” Tony grimaced, but continued, “But that’s that. What other stones do we know about?” He asked the gathering. “The Tesseract has the Space Stone, right? Where’s the Tesseract now? And I think somebody mentioned this Aether thing some time? Isn't that what Greenwich was about?” “The Reality Stone — stone would be the incorrect word, actually; the Aether’s more of a, an angry sludge thing — ” Thor amended, “it’s currently in Knowhere — ” “—  It has to be somewhere,” Bruce frowned. “ — Knowhere is a place. Spelt K-N-O-W-H-E-R-E. The Aether’s with the Collector, an ancient being and an Elder of the Cosmos. Very few save us, know the location of the Aether. It’s most certainly safe. For now.” Thor explained. “As for the Space Gem contained within the Tesseract…” He shot Loki a look. “Oh Norns,” Loki rolled his eyes, but a familiar gesture of his hands told Thor he’d acquiesced. “Yes, the Tesseract is with me,” he announced to the shocked gasps of several as the glowing blue cube slowly materialized in his hands. “Okay, since the rest of you are too busy gaping, I’ll bite,” Tony announced, still visibly reeling from this sudden revelation. “ Why did nobody ever think it would be a good idea to mention,” Tony questioned, “that there’s an Infinity Stone currently in possession of a not entirely trustworthy and slightly unhinged Asgardian sorcerer — no offence, Loki, but this is true — until now?” Thor was, for a second, worried Loki might react to that statement with malice (Loki had, after all, a long history of pranking, frightening, or sometimes even outright harming various servants, friends, even ambassadors from other realms if he ever heard them insult him) but Loki simply shrugged in response. “None taken, Tony,” he replied, a conspiratorial smirk forming on his lips. “ None of what you said is wrong, which is precisely why I did not reveal this fact until now.” “What does that mean?” asked T’Challa, frowning thoughtfully. Tony, for a moment, looked puzzled, but then seemed like the answer had dawned on him. “Let’s go back to the day we arrived, shall we?” Loki asked. “Barely a month ago, where you now say ‘slightly unhinged Asgardian sorcerer’ you’d have said ‘dangerous, psychotic alien invader’. Now, you learn of the fact that the person who led an invasion of your realm six years ago is in the possession of an Infinity Stone: the same one he’d invaded the realm for back then. What happens then? My perceived threat level rises immeasurably and I lose all chances of being pardoned; Asgard’s possibility of gaining refuge on Midgard lowers; your international authorities learn of said Gem and take it away for ‘safekeeping’ —”   “ — And I think all of us are aware of how that has ended in the past — ” Natasha added, her expression thoughtful. “—  Not to mention the possibility of those who attacked the Assembly and the Palace learning about it and the consequences that follow,” Tony completed. “Right.” “Precisely,” Loki concluded with a smirk. “Does that satisfactorily explain my actions to you?” “All right… You said there are six stones, though,” T’Challa pointed out. “There’s still one more.” “That would be the Soul Stone,” Thor replied, “of which I’m afraid I know precious little, despite my searches these last few years.” “I do, though,” the Valkyrie interrupted, and Thor shot her a puzzled look. “Or at least, the history of it, but I think you might wanna know.” “Do go on, please,” Loki replied, his brow wrinkling thoughtfully. “Along with Space, Time, and Reality stones, the Soul Stone too was one Asgard once held, at the height of its powers,” the Valkyrie explained, as Thor’s eyebrows shot up. He’d known about the Tesseract, the Aether, and the Time Stone, but Asgard had once held the Soul Gem too? “Hela, in fact,” she continued, “derived her powers from that very stone.” She — had he heard that right ?! “She did ?” Thor gaped, his brain trying in vain to process that bit of information. He placed a hand over his mouth. “By the Norns.” he shook his head. “Oh Norns, that... that explains a lot!” The Soul Stone, he knew, could give the wielder power over souls, over death itself. So that was what gave his sister her near invincible powers: this was what had enabled Hela to resurrect thousands upon thousands of her loyal Einherjar, this was why she’d been nearly impossible to kill. “Yes, the whole Goddess of Death title wasn’t a joke,” the Valkyrie affirmed. “After Odin bound Hela for the first time, before she tried to break out and — ” she grimaced and made a dismissive hand gesture — “you know, massacred the Valkyrior,” she shrugged, “before that, Odin sent three of the four Infinity Stones away to be hidden.” “Three?” Thor frowned. “Yeah, he sent away Time, Reality and Soul. The Space Gem he kept in that Norns-damned Vault,” she elaborated. So the Tesseract being placed in Norway had been a relatively recent development in the course of the last five millennia. “Nobody knows where he hid the Soul Stone, since he destroyed nearly all sources of ascertaining its location. Few maps, if any, remain, none of which I know of, but I’d wager that one Stone’s outside the Nine.”  “So, essentially,” Loki said, “he did with the Soul Gem what he did with the Aether?” He let out a dark chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ending well.” “So, unless the Soul Gem happens to be in the Elven system, we’re still not sure what The Other’s after, aside from the destruction of the Nine, one by one,” Heimdall pointed out. “For all we know, that may be his goal,” Loki replied grimly. “That’s all we’re left to assume,” Thor shrugged, then was overcome by an involuntary yawn. A glance at the clock on the wall told him it was over one AM. “The hour grows late, and we leave at dawn. I believe we should soon wrap this up and catch some sleep, if possible at all, and begin our journey to Alfheim as quickly as possible. We have a taxing day ahead of us.” “There’s just a few minor things we need to decide on: firstly,” Natasha enquired, “since there are three battlefronts, which of us is going where?” “Right,” Thor acknowledged. “King Freyr would, I believe, be present on the Flagship Taranis, leading Alfheim Proper’s defences, with Queen Gerd on a Magecraft in a lower planetary orbit, overseeing and upholding the magical shields. The fighting’s going to be the heaviest on this front, and heavy hitters, I believe would be required. Nonetheless, the Taranis is a defensive ship, and the actual frontlines of this battlefront would be further from it. Iron Man and I would man some of the smaller crafts on this front, with the Hulk with us.” Thor explained, getting the nods of Tony and Bruce. “I, meanwhile, should go for the Danan-Morriganic front. Not the largest, but certainly the front which will see the fighting first. I’ve seen war; I can further figure out their tactics, tell you more about their firepower and manpower quickly,” the Valkyrie suggested. “Heimdall, you should stay here,” Thor told him. “While we will be using Elven technology to coordinate and communicate with their forces, you will act as our personal communication channel, relaying to us news regarding the other Avengers, as well as news of Midgard, should something urgent arise.”  Turning to the hologram arising from Tony’s StarkPhone on the table, Thor added, “Vision, you will stay here for obvious reasons; they must not be given a chance to get a hold of the Mind Gem,” Thor continued, then turned to his brother, biting his lip before saying, “Loki, you will not be going either — ” “I beg your pardon?” “You will not be going,” Thor restated. He had a feeling this was going to devolve into an argument, but Thor, for one, was unwilling to budge. They’d taken his brother from him once; he was not risking so again. “You will stay here, and help us strategize.”  “I can just as easily do that on the battlefield, Thor, you know that,” Loki argued. “Stop being irrational.” Thor knew that he could, but that was beside the point. “Regardless, you will not be going,” he replied, his voice rising. “I do not think it wise for you to face your tormentors when you’ve barely recovered.” ‘I wasn’t exactly a willing participant in their endeavours, you see.’  Loki had shrugged back on their room in the Statesman, demeanour light as if he’d just told a joke. ‘It required a bit of.. physical coercion to convince me,’ he had said simply, as the horrid meaning behind those words had gradually dawned on Thor. Tortured, he’d realized that day. His brother had been tortured. Those vile creatures had stolen Thor’s brother from him, given Thor weeks upon weeks of grief and mourning, turned his own brother against him, made him into an envious, vengeful madman and coerced him into attacking the realm Thor loved, caused Thor to believe that he’d lost his Loki to madness and evil. Those wretched beings had taken from Thor his precious brother for almost a decade; seven long years that had felt like seven centuries, and they would pay for it. Thor would make sure of that. But more importantly, he wouldn’t let Thanos’s foul army take his little brother from him again. No, he would not risk that. Loki, his expression indignant, blinked several times, before saying, “I’m not a child to be coddled, Thor. I can fight perfectly well.”  What?   “You know as well as I do that I do not speak of physical ability, Loki.” No, it wasn’t physical ability to fight that Thor spoke of. No, what he referred to was something entirely different, and what that something was Loki was well aware of.  Barely a decade ago, Thor would’ve laughed at the very idea of there being enemies Mjolnir could not vanquish. Then, way before Hela quite literally defeated his previously unstoppable hammer, he’d encountered another foe: Thor had had his first true encounter with grief. Grief, and terror; the sheer, paralyzing terror of watching as someone one you loved was ripped apart from you, and knowing that there was nothing you could do. It was a foe Mjolnir could never touch, and it was the one foe Thor never wished to encounter again. Loki too knew of it well enough, and Thor wished it no further on his brother than he did it on himself. “I do not care what you speak of, Thor; I'm perfectly well, and I’m going, and you have no real reason to stop me.” Could Loki not see that Thor was insisting on this for Loki’s own benefit?! That Thor cared ?! “I don’t — Loki,” he shook his head, “I don’t want to risk them taking you away from me again.” “Thor.” Loki shot him a glare. “Stop this. You’re being irrational.” “I’m not!” he boomed, letting the reins of his rising anger slip. If Loki wanted an argument, then so be it. “I — You know as well as I do what it’s like to lose a loved one, so forgive me for not wanting to risk a repeat of that! I can’t risk losing the only family I’ve left, Loki! I can’t bear it!” Loki blinked rapidly in response, before stating caustically, “What’s with this newfound, foolish sentiment, Brother? I’ve fought hundreds of battles beside you, and not once have you shown such; what’s different now?!” What was different?! Thor could scarcely believe his ears. Everything! Everything was different! “We even fought Hela together, and you had no qualms about telling me to go resurrect the prophesied Destroyer of Asgard with little regard for how I was going to come out of the Palace alive! Nothing’s changed since then, Thor, yet now you treat me like a piece of glass when hardly a month ago you didn’t think once about leaving me to be electrocuted on the floor on a hostile planet!” True, Thor would admit, he’d been careless and overly dismissive of his Brother until very recently. He’d made mistakes, many of them. But Thor had learnt now; he was trying to right his wrongs!  His knuckles were beginning to go white, sparks beginning to come off of them involuntarily. Why would Loki not let him do so? Besides, he’d been misled! What was he — knowing nothing of the underlying reasons — to conclude of Loki’s madness on Midgard, both in Puente Antiguo and New York? What was he to suppose when Father had told him, assured him, that the Loki he’d known forever was as good as dead, that there was no hope for the madman that remained? And how else was he supposed to interpret the fact that Loki had apparently faked his own death and left Thor to mourn for weeks again! And then when Loki had chosen yet again to betray him on Sakaar, what was he supposed to assume? “I was misled, Brother, you know that!” he replied, anger flooding through his veins.  “Ever since your ill-fated invasion, I’d thought you’d changed, become evil; I had forsaken you all because of those wretched beings who forcefully turned you against me!” Thor added forcefully, clenching his fists tightly. Father had told him the Loki he’d known was lost to madness, that all that remained was a vengeful shell of his brother. He’d been told the void had perverted Loki forever, and Loki’s odd behaviour had done nothing to contradict those beliefs! “But,” but now he knew what had corrupted Loki, he’d gotten his brother back by his side, and he wouldn’t let him leave, not again, “but the brother I’ve known and loved for a millennium's back with me now, and get this, I do not want to lose him again!” “Thor, the brother you knew barely a decade ago is dead. He and I are not the same person. I’m not anymore the second prince, your shadow, the moon to your sun. You’re never getting him back just because I chose to stay, and do not pretend so.'' Loki fumed, then paused to shoot him a cold glare that promised a dagger in the gut in the near future, “ If you think the Loki you knew these past seven years was nought but a temporary aberration, something that has now vanished, you’re wrong,” he announced, voice low yet crystal clear, tone devoid of emotion, yet powerful nonetheless. “I’m no longer your cowardly baby brother in need of your protection, Thor!” “Why do you twist my words so?!” Thor bellowed as he heard a loud clap of thunder outside. All Thor wanted to ensure was Loki’s own safety; all he wanted was to never again experience the pain of his family, his only family, being torn from him again, and Loki could not even grant him that? Could Loki not even allow him the chance of being the protective brother he should have been all those years ago? Of setting to rights what Thor’s mistakes had wronged? Yes, it had been the Titan who had broken Loki, but it was Thor who’d allowed him to let go; it had been Thor’s fault, and Thor had suffered so much grief in payment! Could Loki not even grant him the chance of not repeating those very same mistakes?!  “ Thor, listen well — ” “No. This is not a discussion we’re having,” Thor raged. “You’re not going, and this is a command from your king!” “I’m not Aesir!” “You are a naturalized Asgardian citizen and consequently subject to my rule!” Loki paused to exhale forcefully, his demeanour shifting rapidly. Loki’s anger had always been like extreme winters: if you had the misfortune of being struck by a blizzard: extremely violent; yet it wasn’t often the fury of those rare blizzards that killed you. No, it was the deathly cold temperatures that accompanied the winter that slowly but surely froze you to death. This, it seemed, had morphed into the latter. “... You truly will not listen, will you?” he questioned coldly. “No.” “Well, it won’t be the first time I’ve committed treason,” he replied in a low voice, turning away. “In the meantime,” he added, louder, his voice unbearably caustic, “you might want to figure out how you’re going to get to Alfheim without my assistance. And a word of advice, Your Majesty? Threatening me with death or solitary confinement will not work this time.” Thor watched as Loki, stubborn, acerbic Loki who just refused to listen, Nornsdammit, strut towards the door. “Loki, wait.” It was the Valkyrie who said so, her voice firm, stern. Loki turned to glare at her, levelling her with the same haughty, defiant look he’d seen him give so many others over the last three or four centuries — one that dared the person to so much as try to accuse him of whatever new scheme of his they suspected him of, to so much as try to assume that Loki, to use Midgardian colloquialisms, gave a fuck. “As entertaining as your brotherly bonding sessions are,” the Valkyrie continued, utterly unfazed, “we have a war coming towards us. Neither Asgard nor the rest of the realms can afford a conflict between their King and Crown Prince. So stop acting like children, both of you, and get on with it.” His moment of fiery anger had cooled, but he still wouldn’t let Loki anywhere near the Black Order, particularly The Other. He would not concede to this. He was stubborn like that. Loki huffed, replying coldly, “You might want to tell your King to, for once, listen to reason then.” Of course, the only person Thor knew who was more stubborn than Thor himself would be Loki. Valkyrie nodded in agreement, and turned to Thor, stating matter-of-factly, “I’m not even going to begin with the whole brotherly issues thing, but Thor, Loki’s right. I get that he’s your baby brother, yada yada yada, but you can’t keep such an adept warrior sitting here when he’s needed on the battlefield. And yes, we have next to no way of going to Alfheim without Loki.” “I will agree,” Natasha added, then sent him an imploring look. “Thor, I get that you have your interpersonal issues, but right now, we cannot in any way afford internal conflict; you will have to set your differences and fears aside for this.”  “I get it,” Thor conceded, yes, they couldn't fight amongst each other at such a crucial time, but  “but — ” “No buts. You’re being overbearing, Your Majesty,” the Valkyrie interrupted, giving him a stern glare. “He should be coming along by all means.” “Moreover, Point Break,” Tony chastised, his own glare shooting daggers at Thor, “whether Rock of Ages wants to stay here because of PTSD or something or get revenge on this Other dude should be solely his decision, and I think he’s told us pretty clearly what that decision is.” Thor sighed in defeat. Practicality dictated that Loki, one of the Nine’s most powerful mages, in no way be kept off the battlefield. Moreover, Loki did make it pretty clear that he would be going no matter what Thor wished. Stifling the smouldering remains of his anger, he swallowed and turned to Loki to say, “All right, I concede. You’re coming. Are you happy now, Loki?” He would, however, make sure that Loki fought right next to him at all times. Loki, for his part, just stood there with a blank face, blinking in the general direction of the assembled Avengers, unresponsive to Thor’s words. “Loki?” Thor questioned again, frowning. “Loki, are you listening? Loki!” With a slight jerk of his head, Loki snapped back to reality, but before Thor could say a word, Loki promptly responded to his earlier question by throwing at Thor a dagger that barely missed his head.  Ignoring the stunned and somewhat fearful looks the pair was getting from the others in the room, Thor sighed. It was back to the usual, then. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” Thor finally said. “Good,” Loki acknowledged, huffing. The baffled look of merely seconds ago had bled out of his expression, now replaced by his usual haughty demeanour and silent rage. “All right, if we’re done the absolutely lovely and absolutely thundering show of brotherly bonding,” here Tony shot Thor a glare, “and with the subsequent striking display of affection,” here the glare turned to Loki, “we move to the next question: transport,” he asked.  “I’m assuming we’re going via Tesseract? That would be pretty cool.” “No, the Tesseract stays here,” Loki replied, likely too frustrated to make a comment on Tony’s puns. “We do not use it at all; it’s a beacon, and there is a chance that the Other could track its usage on the battlefield. Besides, if it stays with me, and I am compromised — ” Thor winced — “we hand the Black Order another Infinity Stone. No, that’s not a risk we should take.” Several nodded in agreement. “All right then, the Tesseract stays here with Heimdall,” Thor concluded as Loki nodded in agreement, although honestly, he did not look particularly happy about parting with the cube. “All right, that’s that, makes sense,” Tony acknowledged. “But how the hell, then, are we actually planning on getting our asses to Alfheim? And please tell me faster than light travel is not involved.”  “It is not,” Loki replied, adding, “although, if you’re wondering whether such travel exists, the answer is yes.” “Oh, god damn it!” Tony groaned for reasons beyond Thor’s ability to fathom. “Ignore their nerdy antics,” T’Challa sighed a sigh of abject misery only those who had to shepherd deeply passionate mages or scientists could be acquainted with. Thor’s mind suddenly flashed back to a few days ago, when a group consisting of T’Challa, Thor and Natasha had to drag out a bunch of three very stubborn and very sleep-deprived scientists and a mage, all of whom need not be named, out of their laboratory. It wasn’t fun, to say the least. “The question remains unanswered: how will your forces get to Alfheim?” “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Thor reassured them. “All we would require is a ride to…” Thor raised his eyebrows at Loki, “let me guess, the nation of Ireland?”  

Derek kneels over Peter’s body, the stench of burned flesh overpowering him. He lets his claws extend, and-- “Wait! You said the cure comes from the one that bit you.” He hesitates, arm pulled back, and turns his head to look at Scott. Scott is breathing hard, eyes flashing in the darkness, and Derek feels nothing but determination from him. “I told you I didn’t know if it was true,” he says. “Do you even know what will happen if it’s not? You’ve never killed anyone.” “I don’t care,” Scott replies. “If I don’t kill him, I’m dead. Derek, please.” Decisiveness and force roll off of Scott in waves of scent, triggering an instinctive response in Derek. He retracts his claws and steps away, letting Scott take his place. “Make sure you cut all the way through his neck,” he advises. “Don’t leave any room for him to heal.” He can’t see Scott’s face anymore, but Scott nods; his claws flash once in the light before coming down, and a splatter of blood hits Derek’s shoes. Scott stands up slowly, retracting and extending the claws on his hand over and over. “It didn’t work,” Scott says, stalking toward Derek. “Why didn’t it work?” His voice is hard and echoes with an alpha growl; his eyes flash red. Derek is on his knees before he even knows what he’s doing, head tipped to the side and throat bared. It surprises Scott, and he takes a step back. When he speaks again, his voice is back to that of a 16-year-old kid. “Derek, what--” Derek lets out a short, bitter chuckle, and gets back up to his feet. “You’re the alpha now, Scott.” *** Derek waits outside Scott’s house the next afternoon. He could have stayed home, waited for Scott to come to him, but-- Well. Scott is the alpha, after all. Scott doesn’t look too surprised to see him when he pulls into the driveway, unbuckling his helmet and climbing off his bike. “We need to talk,” Derek says, as if it wasn’t obvious. He follows Scott through the garage and into the kitchen. “You feel different now, right?” “Can’t you just leave me alone?” Scott asks, pouring himself a glass of water. “You can go back to doing whatever it is you do. I can take care of myself.” Derek crosses his arms over his chest. “We’re stronger together,” he says, watching Scott’s adam’s apple bob up and down as he drains his glass. “A wolf without a pack is no wolf at all.” “I have a pack,” Scott says, “you said that yourself. Just because they’re not werewolves doesn’t mean they’re not my pack.” “Who said I was talking about you?” That catches Scott’s attention, and the clink of his glass landing on the counter seems extremely loud. When Scott turns to look at Derek, Derek looks away. “You’re doing it again,” Scott says. “That thing that you did last night. Except not as much. What is it?” Derek sighs and rubs the back of his head with one hand. “It’s a sign of submission, okay? Your alpha instincts ought to be telling you that if you were paying attention. I’m not doing it on purpose.” “Submission? What-- Why would you--” Scott looks so surprised that it takes Derek off guard. Derek turns away. “Don’t you get it? You’re an alpha and I’m a-- I’m not. What did you think was going to happen?” “I don’t know! I don’t know, okay?” Scott starts pacing around the room, and Derek can feel the tension coiling around him. “I thought I was going to be cured.” “Yeah, well, you’re not. Look, letting me join your pack doesn’t mean we have to be friends.” “What does it mean then? That you’re, like, my servant? Because I don’t want that either.” Scott stops in the middle of the room and looks at Derek with wide eyes. “It means that we keep each other alive.” Derek puts his hands on Scott’s shoulders. “Scott, pack means that we help each other survive and keep away from the hunters. It means if one of us is in trouble then the rest of the pack comes to help.” “Don’t we already do that?” Scott’s confusion is palpable. “You helped me get out even though it meant they took you. I called to find out where you were, and you answered, and I came and broke you out of those chains.” He’s right -- Scott is right, they’ve been acting like pack already, but somehow it’s different now. “Yes. You’re right. Now that you’re alpha though, it needs to be official.” “Official? What does that even mean?” Derek blows air out of his cheeks, trying to contain his frustration. “Don’t you feel it, Scott? Don’t your instincts tell you anything? When you went all alpha on me last night and I got down on my fucking knees in front of you what did you want to do? Try it again, right now, and just do whatever your body tells you to do.” Instead, Scott just looks at Derek, eyes slightly narrowed. “Is that what Peter did to you?” he asks, and his voice is soft and gentle instead of angry. “Yes and no.” Derek closes his eyes, just for a moment. “Peter was part of my family. We were already pack. He just reinforced it.” “But Peter bit me, so doesn’t that make us pack already?” Derek realizes, a little more every day, just how much Scott does not know about being a werewolf. Some things come so naturally to him -- controlling the shift, protecting his pack -- that Derek forgets that he didn’t grow up knowing about all of this. “Look, Scott, there are two ways to become an alpha. One is to be born that way. The other is to kill an alpha. You did a little bit of both. You never felt a desire to join up with Peter, right? That’s because you were never part of his pack, you were already on your way to being an alpha. Killing him just sped up the process. You don’t understand what it’s like-- You don’t know how hard it was for me to go against him.” Derek forces himself to look Scott in the eye, even though his instincts tell him not to. “I’ll never be an alpha,” he says. “It’s not in my nature.” And there it is, the thing he never wanted to have to admit to Scott. He’s glad that Scott killed Peter, glad because it let him off the hook. Because Derek would have become an alpha and it would have been a disaster, but Scott can handle it. Scott would have been an alpha sooner or later anyway. Scott looks almost sorry for Derek, and it rankles. Then Scott’s lips set in a firm line, and he twists his head and shifts, and then he’s growling and his eyes are flashing and Derek is on his knees again. This time though, there is no surprise. He feels the hot puff of Scott’s breath when Scott bends over him, and then Scott’s teeth are sinking into his neck, and in the midst of the pain Derek feels a moment of connection and wholeness that he hasn’t felt since his sister died. *** Derek convinces Scott to come to the Hale house for the first full moon after he becomes alpha. Stiles drives Scott out, and because Scott trusts Stiles Derek has to as well. When they arrive, Derek can already see the effect that the moon is having on Scott. He looks angry, surly, reluctant to be there, and Stiles is overflowing with fear and aggravation. The Hale house was built for raising werewolves, and the caged cells in the basement aren’t for show. It takes Stiles cajoling and Derek manhandling to get Scott to agree to go into the cell. Derek joins Scott, and hands Stiles the keys. “Just lock it and go home,” he tells Stiles. “Come back in the morning to let us out.” Stiles looks at Derek with the all-too-familiar “are you crazy?” expression, but Derek shuts him up with a glare before he can speak. “We’ll be fine,” he adds. “I won’t hurt him.” Stiles glances back and forth between Derek and Scott. “I’m not so sure he won’t hurt you,” he finally says, but he turns the key in the lock and heads up the stairs. Derek listens until he hears the engine of the jeep disappear in the distance, but he suspects Stiles will be back before the night is over. “I don’t know why we’re doing this,” Scott complains. “I was fine on the last full moon.” “You weren’t an alpha on the last full moon. It’s different.” “Oh, because you know so much about being an alpha?” Scott turns on Derek, eyes flashing. “I thought you said it wasn’t ‘in your nature’ to be an alpha.” Derek holds his ground in the middle of the cell. “It’s not. I may not be an alpha but I’ve spent plenty of full moons with them. Can you even hear yourself talking? You don’t sound like yourself, Scott. What do you think would happen if you were out there tonight?” The sky is dark now, and a tiny sliver of moonlight shines in through the basement window grating. “I think that I should be the one to make those decisions, not you.” Scott backs off for a while, though, and Derek sits against the wall while Scott prowls in circles around the cell. The beam of moonlight crawls slowly across the floor. Derek tries to relax, but the moonlight is like an itch underneath his skin, and Scott’s prowling is enhancing it. He almost jumps when Scott growls his name. “Derek. We shouldn’t be in here. We should be out. Hunting.” “No,” Derek replies. “You need to be in here because otherwise you’re going to hurt someone.” “Maybe I’m going to hurt someone anyway.” Scott stalks toward Derek, claws extended. “Someone who’s overstepping his authority. Someone who thinks he knows what’s best for an alpha when he’s really just a mewling, pitiful omega.” Derek flinches and gets to his feet. “So you finally figured it out. I guess there are some pack instincts in your thick skull after all.” The bravado is just for show and they both know it. Scott isn’t usually like this -- he’s really a nice, pleasant kid. A good alpha who wants to protect his pack. On a full moon, though, things are different and there is a cruelty to Scott that nobody would suspect. Scott digs his claws into the rock on either side of Derek’s head. “You didn’t have to lock yourself in here with me,” he says, leaning in to whisper the words close to Derek’s ear. “Why did you do it?” “You said it yourself.” Derek breathes in the scent of alpha, and exposes more of his neck to Scott. “Omega. If you figured out that much you know why I’m in here.” Scott growls low in his throat and rakes his teeth across Derek’s neck, then he’s tossing Derek across the room like a rag doll, alpha strength making up for the difference in size and age. Derek struggles to his feet. If this goes well, he can give Scott exactly what he needs. If not-- Well, he’s always been a fast healer, even for a werewolf, and he thinks Scott’s alpha instincts will stop him from killing one of his own pack. This time, when Scott starts toward him, Derek is faster. He steps into Scott’s space and presses his lips to Scott’s, hands sliding over the sides of Scott’s ribcage. Scott is so startled that he shifts back, claws and teeth retracting, and Derek slips his tongue into Scott’s mouth and grinds their bodies together. Scott puts his hands on Derek’s shoulders and pushes him back, saying, “Derek, what are you--” “What, you think you can turn your instincts on and off whenever you want? I’m giving you what you need, Scott.” “But I--” “It’s not about love or romance.” Derek kisses his way down Scott’s body, sinking to his knees. “It’s about pack. It’s about dominance and hierarchy. It’s about the full moon and bloodlust.” He traces his hands down Scott’s stomach and starts working on the fly of Scott’s jeans. “It’s about distraction and relieving tension, and I’d rather do it this way than have you beat the shit out of me, because if you hadn’t noticed that’s what you were about to do.” The moonbeam from the grate has inched into the cell, and starts moving up Scott’s leg. Derek listens to Scott’s breathing speed up and pulls him out of his jeans and underwear as Scott clenches and unclenches his hands, claws growing out again and a growl starting from the pit of his belly. Derek curls his tongue around Scott’s half-hard cock, pulling it into his mouth and sucking. Werewolf or not, Scott is sixteen years old, and it’s only a few short minutes before he’s coming into Derek’s mouth. The alpha in him takes over, then, and shoves Derek face first into the floor. The stone is rough against his cheek, but he doesn’t resist. Scott may be smaller than Derek, but he’s compact and surprisingly heavy for his size. Claws rake down Derek’s back, shredding his t-shirt and scoring bright lines into his skin. Derek struggles to get his jeans and underwear off while pinned to the ground, Scott’s breath and teeth hovering over his neck. He manages to get them down to his knees, which is enough to feel the rough fabric of Scott’s jeans and the sharp edge of Scott’s open zipper pressing into his ass. Scott rubs himself against Derek’s back, sniffing and licking at the back of Derek’s neck. Derek can feel Scott getting hard again, and is glad that he prepared himself for this earlier. It’s been a few hours but there’s still enough lube in his ass to make this a little less painful, because Scott doesn’t know what he’s doing. Derek grits his teeth when Scott growls next to his ear and closes his teeth over the back of Derek’s neck, the bite and the weight of Scott’s upper body crushing Derek’s face and chest into the cold stone. The claws are gone from his back for a moment, and then the blunt head of Scott’s cock is pressing into Derek’s ass. Scott pulls Derek’s hands above his head and pins them there with one hand, the other hauling Dereks hips upward to give him a better angle. Scott isn’t particularly big, but Derek bites his lip against the pain when he slides in and starts thrusting without any time to adjust. There is a continuous low growl rumbling in Scott’s chest, and Derek can feel the vibration of it where their bodies touch. He spreads his legs a little wider and pushes back into Scott, relaxing into his role and taking whatever his alpha needs to give him. Apparently what his alpha needs is to fuck him into the floor, and Derek’s face and chest stick and scratch on the rough edges of stone with each thrust. He would push up onto his hands and knees, but Scott is still holding his hands above his head and Scott’s teeth are still working on his neck. A trickle of blood and saliva drips down from the bite onto the back of Derek’s ear, then around onto his cheek. He reaches his tongue out and catches the edge of it, and it tastes like alpha and like pack. Scott is moving faster now, harder, and Derek can feel Scott’s climax gathering and then bursting over him. Scott releases Derek’s hands and neck, and rolls off of him. The intensity of it has wiped him out and Derek hears his breathing slow down into sleep almost immediately. Derek’s arms are stiff as he pushes himself up, and there are rapidly healing cuts and scratches all over his chest. He can still feel blood dripping from the bite on his neck as he takes hold of his erection and strokes himself off efficiently. The full moon itch subsides somewhat, and Derek pulls his pants back on and removes his shredded t-shirt. Scott has fallen asleep with his pants around his knees, and doesn’t wake up when Derek manhandles them back into place. He uses the remains of his shirt to wipe up the blood and semen, then settles back against the wall to wait. He judges it to have been about two hours by the track of the moonlight on the floor before Scott wakes up, slowly pushing himself up to sit. Scott looks human again, although there is still a glint of red in his eyes. “What--” he starts to ask, then his nostrils flare. “Oh. Oh.” He looks around wildly, then his eyes settle on Derek. “Are you okay?” Derek laughs at the earnestness in Scott’s voice. “I’ll live. We’ve still got quite a few hours left of the full moon. How are you feeling?” “Um.” Scott scrubs a hand through his hair and Derek can smell his embarrassment. “Still kind of, uh.” “Twitchy?” Derek supplies. “But not as bad as before. Look, I didn’t mean to--” “It’s okay,” Derek says, cutting him off. “Don’t worry about it. If you need to do it again it’s fine. It’s what I’m here for.” “What you’re here for? What is that supposed to mean?” “It means I’m getting you through the full moon by letting you take it out on me. That’s what an omega is for.” Derek stretches his arms over his head, twisting his neck and hissing a little at the pain of the still-healing bite. “When the full moon comes there are two things you want to do: kill and fuck. You have to have figured that part out by now at least?” Scott ducks his head, a fringe of mussed hair hanging over his eyes. “So. Until you can learn to control yourself, you can either beat me up or fuck me. It’s your choice, I can’t stop you, but I’d rather not have my guts spilling out at the end of the night.” “If sex is the answer to not killing anyone you could have told me, I would have called Allison.” “No, Scott, you don’t get it.” Derek turns around to show Scott the marks on his neck, and Scott has the decency to look ashamed. “That bite you gave me would have killed a human. You can’t keep yourself in human form during sex on a full moon yet so you can’t be trusted with her. Unless you turn someone else and grow this pack, you’re stuck with me and I’m stuck with you.” “How am I supposed to learn something like that?” Scott asks, cradling his head in his hands. “Practice. Maybe don’t wait until you can’t stand it anymore next time.” Derek gets to his feet and walks over to Scott. It’s been a long time since Derek played this role, but seduction always came easily to him. He holds out a hand and pulls Scott to his feet, then leans in, mouth inches from Scott’s. “Come on. Put your hands on me. I know you want to; I can smell it on you.” There’s a growl, and then Derek finds himself being pressed back into the wall. Scott’s claws dig into his hips and he can feel the sharp edges of teeth touching his neck lightly, not quite biting. Scott is trembling with the effort to control himself, and Derek waits it out as the claws slowly retract and the teeth are replaced by lips. When he hears Scott’s heart rate return to normal, he rests his hands on Scott’s shoulders and slides them down Scott’s back, then under the edge of his t-shirt. Scott’s heartbeat picks up a little bit, but not enough to worry about, and he steps back and strips off his shirt. Derek lets Scott take the lead, trying not to do anything to trigger Scott to shift. Scott’s cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, but he puts one hand on Derek’s chest and uses the other to pull Derek’s head down for a close-mouthed kiss. The skin of Scott’s back is hot under his fingers, muscles shifting smoothly with his movements. If this wasn’t a full moon, and Scott wasn’t his alpha, Derek would have kissed his way down Scott’s neck, sucking marks into his skin. As it is, he knows putting his mouth on Scott’s neck would prickle all of Scott’s alpha instincts as a challenge for dominance, so he settles for sucking Scott’s lower lip into his mouth and tracing his tongue along the edge. They pull apart briefly, and then Scott’s tongue is in Derek’s mouth, sliding against his own, and there are still no fangs involved. Scott moves closer, body pressing up against Derek’s, and his lips move off through the stubble along Derek’s jaw. “I would try to pretend you’re Allison except for how she has boobs, no facial hair, and is shorter than me,” he mumbles into Derek’s cheek. “Smaller muscles, too.” Derek has to laugh at that, at Scott’s attempt to keep himself in control by lightening the situation, because he can feel Scott’s heart rate picking up again. Derek moves one hand to Scott’s chest, running from his collarbone to his hip and back again. His other hand slides down to the edge of Scott’s jeans, almost coming down over his ass but not quite. Scott’s mouth moves down Derek’s neck, lips and tongue leaving a wet trail behind. Derek feels the hint of teeth when Scott grabs him by the hips and grinds them together, and then Scott is holding still again, breathing fast and hot against Derek’s skin. Derek’s own heartbeat sounds loud in his ears and he knows Scott is listening to it too. Letting Scott fuck him during an alpha rage -- that is a hard thing to do, but it’s hard in an entirely different way to be patient now, to let Scott take his time, to not touch and to not taste. The itch of the moon crawls under Derek’s skin and even though he’s had plenty of practice keeping himself calm over the years, he can smell Scott’s desire and it amplifies everything. Finally, Scott’s hands start to move, roaming over Derek’s body, and his mouth resumes its exploration of Derek’s collarbone. Derek licks his lips, and Scott looks up at the sound; his eyes are red around the edges but still human when he leans in to replace Derek’s tongue with his own. Derek can feel Scott growing hard where their bodies are pressed together, and Scott’s kisses become rougher, more demanding. Scott guides one of Derek’s hands downward to press over his erection through his jeans, and Derek squeezes him gently and starts stroking. He’s so absorbed with listening to the hitch of Scott’s breath, listening for signs of a shift, that the sound of a car door slamming comes as a complete surprise. Scott tenses, and for a moment his fingernails become claws and fangs press into Derek’s lips. “Fuck,” Scott says, dropping his face into Derek’s neck, human again. There is the sound of the house door opening and closing, and footsteps across the ceiling. “We’re fine,” Scott calls out, voice rough. “Don’t come down here.” It’s too late though, and the footsteps are descending the stairs in a rush. “Hey guys, I brought you some water,” Stiles is saying as his steps reach the bottom. Derek releases Scott to give him room to step away, but Scott stays where he is and plants his hands on the wall on either side of Derek’s head. Derek can see Stiles appear around the corner over Scott’s shoulder in the dim light, and watches him stop in surprise. “Put it where we can reach it and go,” Derek tells him. Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but a low growl from Scott makes his jaw snap shut again. Stiles carefully places two bottles of water within arm’s reach of the cage bars. “I’m not sure if you guys are fighting or making out, but are you okay?” “We’re fine. Just go.” Stiles backs up slowly, hands raised. “Now,” Derek snaps, because Scott is starting to growl again. “Okay, I’m going, I’ll just -- I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.” Stiles finally disappears up the stairs, and Derek turns his full attention back to Scott, who is digging claws into the rock. He exposes more of his neck to Scott to try to appease the alpha parts of him, and Scott slowly, gradually retracts his claws. “Okay?” Derek asks, and Scott nods against his neck. “Why did I do that?” Scott mumbles, beginning to rub himself against Derek again. He looks up at Derek, but before Derek can answer Scott’s lips are closing over his own again. “Shutting down a challenge,” Derek gets out when he has a chance to breathe. Scott shifts his thigh between Derek’s legs and the breathy sound that Scott makes sounds a lot more like a horny teenager than an alpha wolf on a full moon. “What should I . . . ?” Scott mumbles, rubbing himself against Derek’s hip. “You’re the alpha,” Derek replies, nipping at Scott’s lower lip. “Whatever you need.” Scott’s hands move down to clutch Derek’s ass, squeezing hard, and there is the hint of a growl and a momentary pinprick of claws. Derek takes the hint and turns around, bracing his hands on the wall. Scott’s mouth traces over Derek’s tattoo, tongue following the spirals and sending a tingle through Derek’s spine, while his hands reach around to rub at the bulge in Derek’s jeans. Derek breathes in sharply; he wasn’t expecting any reciprocation from Scott. It feels good, though, very good, and Derek can feel Scott’s smile against his back. “Back pocket,” Derek gets out. “There’s lube. Think you can keep your claws out of things?” Scott laughs and nips at Derek’s shoulder. It’s a hard enough bite to hurt, but there are no fangs, and Scott reaches into Derek’s pocket with one hand, still stroking him with the other. His hands are gone for a moment then, and Derek takes advantage of the time to strip off his remaining clothes. He hears the sound of a zipper opening behind him, and the rustle of clothing hitting the floor. He can hear Scott’s hesitation, and realizes that Scott has never done this before, not while he had control of his senses. “Use your fingers first,” he tells him. A hand closes over the left side of his ass, and a wet finger slides between his cheeks, thankfully with no claws. Derek spreads his legs wider when Scott’s finger pushes in, dropping his head between his arms. Scott’s mouth is back, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to Derek’s shoulders. Derek breathes deeply and evenly. “You can use two,” he says, pushing his hips back against Scott’s hand and listening to Scott’s heart beating faster. Scott adds a second finger, moving his hand faster; his kisses start to be more teeth than lips. He abruptly pulls his fingers out and rests his forehead against Derek’s back, breathing heavily. “Derek, I can’t--” “It’s okay.” Derek glances over his shoulder into Scott’s glowing eyes, impressed that Scott has managed to last as long as he has without shifting. “Take what you need.” Scott is on him, then, pushing into Derek’s ass, teeth and claws clutching at him. It burns, still sore from earlier, but Scott is not as rough this time; it takes longer as well, since Scott’s already come twice. After a while, Scott starts tracing Derek’s tattoo with his tongue again, and Derek takes one hand off the wall to stroke himself in time with Scott’s thrusts. Even after so many years, Derek can only focus on so many things at once on a full moon. He concentrates on keeping his human form, and lets go of trying to keep quiet or pay attention to anything outside of his own body. Maybe Scott won’t remember the groans, the way that Derek shivers under his tongue, or the way that Derek pushes his hips back to meet Scott’s. Scott is lost inside himself, claws digging into Derek’s hips and drawing thin trickles of blood, growling low in the back of his throat. Scott closes his teeth on Derek’s neck when he comes, reopening the bite that had just closed, and it pushes Derek over the edge as well, legs trembling, gasping for breath. Scott is licking at the wound on Derek’s neck when he comes back to himself. He gradually feels Scott’s claws and teeth retract, the licks turning into kisses, and then Scott moves around with his back to the wall and slides down to the floor. Derek catches his breath and finds his pants, pulling them on and grabbing the water Stiles left behind before sitting gingerly next to Scott. “Feel better?” Derek asks, handing him a bottle. Scott takes a long drink, then nods. “Um. Thanks?” There is no red left in Scott’s eyes, just a deep, warm brown that makes Derek thinks of pack and security. He manages a smile at Scott, maybe the first time he’s really, genuinely smiled in years, and says, “Go to sleep.” *** In the morning, Derek suffers through Stiles darting his eyes back and forth between him and Scott, then running his mouth off while he fumbles with the keys and unlocks the cell. Derek snarls at him to shut him up, but there’s no real malice in it. He walks out to the front of the house with Stiles and Scott, and when Scott turns before climbing into the car to give him a smile and wave goodbye, he finds himself smiling back.

OCTOBER 19TH Ginger all but begged me to meet him at the Wolseley, so it was just as well Angela had dolled me up earlier that day. Chilled through, I felt as though I was constructed of all the heavier elements on the periodic table (damn my inattention in science class!), and I was looking forward to the meeting with the same enthusiasm as a dip in the rolling Thames beneath my feet. Still as handsome as ever, Ginger grasped me in a hug that was a bit too friendly for a happily married man. Taking my coat, pulling out my chair and passing me an exeedingly rich-looking menu, he flashed his old roguish smile my way as I endeavoured to select a meal that wouldn't worsen my nausea. Over our sparkling mineral water and breadsticks, he grew somber, bracing himself to announce whatever he had been planning. 'I'll be frank, Bertie,' he said. 'Things have taken an unexpectedly sour turn between Magnolia and myself. I've had a rather nasty shock this morning, one which has made me rethink a lot of things.' I leaned forward. 'Really? Well then, old thing, say on.' 'What I did to you back in January was absolutely monstrous. I have regretted breaking your heart like that every single day since. To think that you have languished alone, without a soul to rescue you, while I nicked off to Ibiza to go clubbing and down cocktails. After you had given me the best years of your life. I can only say how deeply sorry I am.' I managed a genuine smile. 'Thank you, Ginger, I appreciate that.' He responded by looking at me with a pained, pitying grimace. 'You are no desperado, built to withstand the torments of life by yourself. You, Bertie Wooster, are a delicate sweet thing that needs to be cared for. Damnit, every time I look at you I see that innocent little orphan boy who I met at Oxford, the one with the mismatched socks and the Powerpuff Girls knapsack. And I can't help the urge to protect that boy.' Before I could pull away, he grabbed my wrist, and crashed through my personal space like a bumper car. I could smell pork scratchings on his breath. 'I can make up for it all, poppet. I'll divorce Magnolia. You'll come back to live with me and I'll make sure you want for nothing. It'll be like Oxford again. Parties, clubbing, making love under the stars. Just say the word and I will be at your command.' I tilted my head. 'Does this have anything to do with that post Magnolia put on Facebook this morning? Of herself brunching with the directors of Norwich City FC? Because I'm pretty sure that was just a social thing. Her cousin's fiance is on the board, after all. She hasn't renounced her allegiance to Chelsea, you know.' He pulled back from me, looking thoroughly gobsmacked. 'My dear Ginger, let's put some things into perspective here. Magnolia loves you. She has been the great helpmeet in your career for a good number of years now. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's certain that you and she exchange more meaningful conversations in a single month than you and I did during our entire three-year-long engagement. On the plus side, I did develop something of a friendship with your Filipina housekeeper, as she and I were the only people to regularly occupy your penthouse. And I say your penthouse quite rightly, as it was never truly ours. Magnolia is your true partner and equal in this mortal c. Some piddly little squabble about one meaningless brunch is not going to change the way she feels about you.' Slowly, Ginger's horrified expression was calming, changing into something quite astonished. 'Take it from someone who knows first-hand. It does not do to simply run from your commitments. Not if they're the ones that help you become a better person. You are free to return to Magnolia tonight, give her a heartfelt apology, and get on with your life as a loving husband. You'll look back on this in the future and be grateful that you did.' He stared down at his half-mauled breadstick for a good minute or so, then let out a deep breath. 'When did you get so good at understanding the psychology of the individual?' A tight smile. 'I've been learning from one of the masters.' He offered to pay for my dinner all the same, but I politely declined, opting instead for fish and chips in the corner of one of Richmond's quieter pubs. *** Aunt Agatha eyed her dish of curry suspiciously, burying it in a huge pile of rice. 'Foreign food,' she mumbled. The family were sitting around the dining table at Brinkley Court, partaking in an ostensible welcoming back of my austere aunt from her tour. We had spent the apertifs and starter enduring her descriptons of ecclesiastical architecture of the continent, as well as the services enacted therein. If you asked me about the buttresses and arches of the cathedrals in regional Hungary, I am quite confident that I could answer absolutely none of your queries. 'The summer dishes and pastries of Poland were quite palatable, but I'm afraid I cannot trust a curry that was not made to an English recipe.' 'But Bertie made this from scratch, Aggie,' Dahlia responded. 'He's become quite a whiz around the house. He's even doing the vacuuming for me now.' I hid behind a large mouthful of rogan josh, hoping the subject would be dropped there. No such luck. 'But vacuuming is a task best left to a wife. What does Bertie need to know of it? Here, I managed to acquire several names and telephone numbers of young ladies eager to emigrate to London. Some of them even speak a passable level of English.' Agatha thrust at me a small, well-worn address book. 'Best you get on with contacting them instead of bothering with your little housekeeper game.' It was time to artfully diffuse this bomb. 'That's terribly kind of you, Aunt Agatha, but I'm afraid I will be very busy in the next few weeks - what with my new job and Bingo and I going flat-hunting-' 'This is not a request!' She bellowed. 'You shall not exploit your aunt's good nature one moment more! If you have not chosen a bride by the end of the year, then I shall arrange a match for you myself!' 'Aggie. Please try to understand,' Dahlia assuaged, with a seldom-used gentle voice. 'Simply marrying Bertie off will do us no good. He's come so far in the past few months and he really needs to exert his independence-' 'By co-habiting with his oafish friends and cooking spicy slop with brown people? I think not! It is time you stopped indulging the boy in his degenerate bohemianism - he must marry!' Both aunts were now standing, at opposite ends of the table to one another. Angela, Uncle Tom and I were all slowly moulding ourselves into the backs of our chairs. I have witnessed but a few auntly stand-offs in my time, and they are phenomena that are in line with animal maulings, hurricanes, and the worse sort of bar-room punch-ups. If you can picture the aforementioned with lipstick and low-heeled pumps, that is. Dahlia took a sharp breath and eyed her older sister. 'Agatha. You are my family, and despite your political views I will always love you. Be that as it may, you have no right to come into my home and say these things about our beloved nephew, who has made such an effort to improve himself of late. I am immensely proud of him. And if he does choose to marry one day, regardless of whether his groom is a dark-skinned gentleman or as pale as death, you shall be invited to the wedding, and you shall congratulate him - whether you like it or not.' 'Congratulate him?' Agatha gargled, choking on the notion as if it were the foreignest of foreign foods. 'For bringing shame on our family with this behaviour that you celebrate? If his father knew of his disgusting carryings on with other boys, he would have him disowned!' Aunt Agatha owns the market in homophobic remarks, but this was a new blow. And I will say here now - it stung. Dahlia's eyes almost looked reptilian. 'Angela, fetch your auntie's coat. I believe she will be heading home now.' Normally, an angry aunt Dahlia would be doing her best impression of an alpha wolf, with all the snarling and gnashing of fangs that that implies. Paint usually peels from the walls due to the decibel levels. This was the first time I had ever witnessed rage rendering her quieter. Later that evening, after the dishes were washed, dried and stacked away, Aunt Dahlia found me hunched over my laptop. In her hands she clutched a dusty photo album. Wordlessly, she bid me budge up along my bed and sat down beside me, opening the tome to a page of yellowed photographs. In a few of them, the telltale rainbow streak of a pride flag caught my eye. She thrust a stout finger at one of the pictures of my mother and father, dressed in colourful summer gear, careless smiles plastered on their faces. 'Your parents at Pride London back in the early nineties, cheering on a uni friend of theirs who was on a float that year. I was the one who took this photo. Look, there's your Uncle Tom in the back, flirting with that drag queen.' I looked up at her, quite surprised to see tears pricking her eyes. 'Don't you dare listen to Agatha for a second.' I felt her take my hand. 'I know, without a doubt, that both your mother and father would be so, so proud of you.' *** As mentioned previously, I had stumbled upon a regular job of sorts, one that came up quite by surprise. Faith Rosso, the MD for 'Brideshead!', had a chum of a chum who knew a bloke who owned a sleek little piano bar at Canary Wharf. Their usual pianist for the Sunday to Wednesday slot had been nabbed by a jazz quartet, and they were in the market for a charming chanteur with a knowledge of the great standards, everything from 'Puttin On The Ritz' to 'Rolling In The Deep'. Despite the often indifferent crowd of city professionals, it's a nice little gig with a good hourly rate, generous tippers, and easy access to booze, so I have no complaints. Often I will noodle out my old school favourites like 'Minnie The Moocher' and 'Forty-Seven Ginger Headed Sailors', until I get a slurred request for 'Uptown Girl' or other such slop. Every worn-out pop standard I perform makes me feel that much more grown-up about the whole wheeze. In the still of the night As I gaze from my window At the moon in its flight My thoughts all stray to you In the still of the night While the world is in slumber All the times without number Darling when I say to you Do you love me, as I love you? Are you my life to be, my dream come true? Or will this dream of mine fade out of sight? Like the moon growing dim, on the rim of the hill In the chill, still, of the night This past Sunday night, the moon peeked out from behind the monotonous cloud cover, rendering me a tad melancholy. The few patrons at the bar paid no heed to the ballad I sang, so I felt quite at ease throwing all the emotion I had into the thing. It was impossible not to think of Jeeves. I hopped down for a quick, well-earned break, confident that no-one would miss me. My favourite barmaid was on, and the old girl poured me a particularly generous brandy. 'Thank you, Machie,' I saluted her. 'You sip that slowly, Bertie,' was the auntly response. I settled in quite happily to nurse my drink, scrolling absently through the feed on my phone. Angela and Tuppy were having another fight, Madeline had posted photos of some of the new inmates at Battersea, and Yogi Cordelia would be running us through a new kind of sun salutation next week. Nothing terribly exciting. My thoughts began to turn to the next set of pieces I should play, and I mused upon whether Burt Bacharach or Elton John would suit the evening better- 'Good evening, Mr Wooster.' I only regained full lucidity after I had spilled a full finger of brandy into my lap. 'Friend of yours, is he?' Machie asked. '...' I repsonded. 'I wondered if I may have a quick word with your pianist, madam?' Jeeves requested. 'As long as you come back and buy a drink,' Machie told him with a wink. He drew me over to an intimate table by the floor-to ceiling window, the pilot lights of London's skyline twinkling behind him. 'Fancy seeing you here, old thing,' I blithered. 'Not at all. I was looking for you, in fact, partially to return this.' He produced a book from his coat pocket: my copy of 'À la recherche du temps perdu'. 'You dropped it when you left my front door,' he told me simply. 'Ah. Thank you.' I stared down at the book cover, not quite sure of what else to say. 'I am afraid I must once again apologise to you, Mr Wooster, for the way we left things. I had no intent of upsetting you.' I waved a hand at this. 'Oh no no, dear fellow, no harm done. It's your practice, you can engage whomever you like.' He quarter-smirked, the tiny crease in his noble brow betraying an issue he had yet to settle. 'About that... I believe there was a misunderstanding.' 'Oh?' I suddenly felt a little afraid of the answer. 'Yes.' Jeeves paused here, tenting his hands and huffing. 'Please hear me out... I did not properly explain to you why I cannot take you on.' Pure poison began to pool at the base of my gut. 'No Jeeves, I don't need to hear this,' I said heatedly, standing up. 'I know I'm an idiot and a spoiled millennial and that I don't meet the standards of-' 'Are you in love with me?' I couldn't say anything. I could have bolted if it weren't for the sudden look in Jeeves' eyes: more unguarded, frail, and dare I say pleading, than I had ever seen. 'Come again?' Was the best that I could squeak out. Taking a shaky breath, Jeeves pushed on. 'In regards to both my clients and my co-workers, while a modicum of compassion does aid in my service to them, it is not in my best interests to form any manner of strong emotional bias towards them lest it sully the work I need to do on their behalf.' A pause, as he rallied himself again. 'With you, Mr Wooster, I would be quite unable to maintain that professional distance. Your pull on my emotions is singularly potent.' Saying nothing, I sat back down. 'On that April evening,' he continued, 'I saw a stranger contemplating a possible break-in to my absent neighbour's flat. As a man of the law, my rational response would be a careful line of questioning to properly ascertain the legitimacy of their claims, and to contact the relevant authorities to either corroborate the story or punish their wrongdoing. While it is true I put in a call to the landlady... all that was on my mind was assisting the lovely and earnest creature who had so quickly and effortlessly charmed me. Even from that first moment you have constantly had a monopoly on my feelings. I have fiercely hoped with every fibre of strength in my body that you are in love with me, as...' He stopped, his deep voice having grown thick with emotion. 'As every single day of our association has seen me fall more and more deeply in love with you.' I almost said something here, and no doubt it would have been ludicrously sentimental, but Jeeves took my hand in his. That seemed to short out most of my higher brain functions. At the very least, I could still sit upright and respire. 'It pains me so, so deeply to hear you talk about yourself in such a way. These claims of your so-called idiocy have never played out, as far as I have observed. Do you get flustered under pressure? Yes. Is your knowledge of certain fields limited? Yes. These are no crimes. What I have seen is an optimistic, resilient young man who has repeatedly gone to great lengths to help his friends. A cheerful, open-minded young man happy to learn new things and try new experiences. Your zest for life, your graciousness towards your fellow human beings, your god-given musical talent... those precious things can simply not be taught.' He bowed his head, presumably to corral his surging emotions, the ones that I had elicited. He looked up again, and we locked eyes, and even breathing became a hardship. 'If you'll have me, Bertram... beautiful Bertram...' A whisper of long fingers against my cheek. By God, I was utterly gone. I could describe the experience of kissing Reginald Jeeves in great and glorious detail. The primal surge of delight and pleasure of mouthing at his plush lips, grasping at his broad shoulders, stroking his thick black hair, inhaling the spice of his cologne. The heady euphoria, the reeling joy of knowing that such an extraordinary man desires and cherishes you. It's not a patch on experiencing it yourself. Unfortunately, I am fixed in my viewpoint that this Wooster is the only person who shall have the privelege of kissing Reginald Jeeves. You'll all just have to take my word for it. 'Um, Bertie? Any day now,' came Machie's voice. 'Someone just requested "Say A Little Prayer". You can devour your honey on your own time.' The Code Of The Woosters always wins out. Thankfully, this time, the duty was a happy one. ***

Shooting on location at the beach in April had been far from the magazine’s best idea in Cas’ opinion. Although the day was warm, the wind coming off the water was harsh and the waves were cold against his bare feet. Set assistants kept handing him hot tea and blankets every time the photographer needed to readjust the camera or wanted to change up the background.             Now, before Dean arrived fresh off his latest rogue concert, Cas was doing test shots to get the lighting right. Apparently test shots did not equal letting him wear a sweater, socks, and just about anything else warm. The assistants kept offering him apologies he didn’t want. It wasn’t like it was their fault that the magazine had decided on a beach spread.             As the photographer adjusted his cameras again, Cas’ phone buzzed on a table. He glanced towards the set director for permission and, when the man nodded, he picked up the phone. “Hey, Kelly,” he said. “Is everything all right?”             “Everything’s great,” she said, sounding somewhat breathless. “I just wanted to ask if you’d do me a favour.”             Cas let those words sit between them for a few minutes. Just last year, they had been in a place where “do me a favour” would have meant “please stop calling.” He brushed away the persistent tug at his heartstrings and said, “Name it.”             “Can you take the kids on tour during spring break?”             “When is that?”             “Two weeks.”             Cas did a mental run-through of his schedule. He knew that in two weeks, they’d be a week out from the movie premiere and stuck at a go, go, go pace that would wipe out even the most seasoned of actors. “I’d love to see them,” he said, “but I’ll be jumping planes constantly, running from set to set... I just don’t know how much time I’ll have to spend with them. Or if it’ll even be fun for them.”             “They want to see you,” she said, “and it would really help me out. My new line’s supposed to be released in May and it’s just not there yet.”             Cas bit the inside of his cheek. “Okay, yeah. Have... have someone call Charlie and she’ll figure it out.”             “Thank you so much.”             “No problem.”             They chatted for a few more minutes before the photographer waved Cas back over and he had to say goodbye. He shed his blanket to stand with his feet in the chilly water and just barely managed a shaky smile for the camera. He saw his toes go purple.             A small commotion started up a few feet away and the photographer paused. Cas took a step forward to see Dean’s security team heading down the beach. They parted dramatically just before the start of the white tents and Dean stepped forward, dressed half in beach wear with a linen shirt and cargo shorts, and half for the weather with a leather jacket and heavy-looking leather boots.             He shed the boots and the jacket when a set assistant approached him and pulled off wool socks to slip his feet into the offered sandals. Then, he dashed up to Cas and kissed him on the lips. Cas pulled him close, even though he’d just offered a peck, relishing the warmth of his lips and his body.             “Someone’s happy to see me,” Dean whispered.             Cas looked up at him. “Don’t be so smug. You’re warm and I’m freezing.”             “So if I was a giant heated blanket that would be just as good?”             “Better, actually.”             Dean looped his arms around Cas’ hips and pulled him closer. He kissed the top of his head. “Sorry I’m late. We had a problem with the LAPD.”             “That problem being?”             “Cops other than the ones we briefed on the situation showed up.”             “You actually got arrested?”             Dean shrugged as the set director told them they had to start before they lost the light. Cas wanted to argue that decision – it was nearly noon, the light wasn’t going anywhere – and he had more questions about Dean’s arrest. Not that Dean seemed all that concerned.             “Jody got me out of it,” he said simply. “Well, once she stopped flirting with Donna.”             Cas shook his head. “You’ve got good friends.”             “People you pay aren’t friends.”             Cas looked at Dean just then, tried to gauge what he meant by that. But he didn’t seem sad about it, just practical. The further they got into the tour, the more Cas questioned Dean’s insistence that he had no friends. From his security team to the cops who helped him to all the people who worked around the clock to make his dreams come true, they all seemed like they would die for him. And whether Dean paid them or not, Cas had a feeling they didn’t have to do half the things he asked of them. They did it because they liked him.             The photographer approached and told them where to stand in front of a crop of rocks springing from the water. Dean cursed as the cold water lapped at his feet and Cas laughed, which earned him an elbow in the side. He leaned in to kiss Dean and the photographer exclaimed, “No! No! Save it for the film! For the film!”             Cas laughed harder as Dean wrapped an arm around him and pulled him tight. The photographer grabbed his camera off the tripod and crept closer to them. “Do it again! Natural! Loving! You love the beach!”             “And the cold,” Dean whispered.             Cas kissed him, listening to the cameras flash. Then he pulled away and smiled at the photographer. With Dean by his side, they took direction easily before the photographer told them to get down in the sand and start to play around. Feet freezing and fingers trembling, Cas started to make a sand castle and Dean joined him. When they’d almost finished, Dean knocked it over.             “Hey!” Cas shouted.             “Sorry.” Dean kissed him on the forehead and then took off running down the beach.             Cas scrambled after him, tripping in the sand, and then ran at full speed. He caught Dean by the back of the shirt and pulled him – too hard. They went down in the sand at the edge of the water, laughing, and Dean kissed up his neck until he reached his lips. Cas shoved him off into the water and then tried to scramble away before Dean could pull him in too. But Dean was faster, stronger, and he managed to push Cas under the water for a few seconds before he came back up, sputtering for breath.             “You suck,” Cas said as he reached for Dean.             Dean smiled. “You love me.”             Cas cradled his face and kissed him even as his entire lower body turned to ice.             “Perfect. Fantastic. You’re wonderful. Lovely.”             Cas looked up at the photographer, surprised to realize he’d followed him down the beach. His hands slipped from Dean’s face as he felt self-consciousness seep back in with every camera flash. After a few moments, they were both pulled from the water and huddled into blankets. Cas was offered hot chocolate first, then a towel and a change of clothes. He snuck into one of the tents to change and was just doing up the last button on his jacket when Charlie slipped inside.             He stared at her for a moment, at a loss for words. He’d forgotten she’d come along. “Did the pictures turn out?” he asked, unsure of what else to say.             She nodded. “I got Jack and Claire’s flights all set up. It’ll be a busy week for them, but I’m sure we can keep them entertained and out of the press, especially with security around. I’ll talk to Benny about it as soon as I get the chance.”             Cas met her eyes and silence fell. He wanted to be able to talk to her; he wanted to tell her everything, but she had built a wall between them. Or maybe he had helped, at least a little bit, by stacking more bricks on top of it.             Suddenly, she sighed and her whole facade crumbled. “You know I just want you to be happy, right?”             “I am happy.”             “I can see that.” She stepped forward and reached out a hand. He grabbed it before she could rethink the gesture and pulled her into a hug. “If this is what you want, then I’m happy for you. I can live with it if you can.”             Cas nodded against her shoulder. “There’s just... one thing.” He swallowed hard and stepped back from her. She looked up at him with a serious expression and he bit down on the urge to clam up, to not let her in. “My kids love Dean but... but I haven’t been able to get much of a commitment from him on what this means or where it’s going and...”             “You don’t want to hurt them,” Charlie finished. She pulled out her phone. “I can keep Dean away from them. No problem.”             “Keep Dean away from who?”             Cas whirled at the sound of Dean’s voice, guilt settling in his stomach. Dean had pushed the tent flap back and had a curious look on his face. No anger. No hurt. Cas looked back over his shoulder but Charlie had disappeared, gone as fast as she had come.             As Dean approached, he repeated, “Who’s avoiding me?”             Cas met his eyes and steeled himself for the many, many ways this conversation could go. “My kids,” he said, forcing the words to come out steady when just the two syllables made him want to stop his heart from beating.             Dean blinked. “Why?”             “You said yourself that we’re just seeing how this is going.” Cas swallowed hard. He wanted to sound sure of his decision. He was sure of his decision. But he had so many happy memories where the four of them seemed like a family, where Dean had seamlessly fit with them, where nothing had seemed out of place. He looked at his feet. “And I don’t want to drag the kids through this, to let them get close to you, if this isn’t... going anywhere.”             The wind whipped up against the tent walls, the fabric billowing inwards and causing Cas to shiver. Outside, the crew gathered up their equipment and people shouted instructions to each other. Cas looked up at Dean through his eyelashes, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression was blank, painless.             “You know Claire texts me like five times a day, right?” Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes met Cas’, wide and impassive, but a little wet. “And Jack calls me half a dozen times a week, just to check in and make sure I’m okay.”             “I wish you wouldn’t talk to them without telling me.”             Dean stepped back like he’d been slapped. Maybe Cas had slapped him. Maybe he’d done something worse. “Maybe you should tell them that,” Dean snapped. “Look, I don’t... if you’re trying to stop them from getting attached, you’ve already fucking failed.”             “Dean—”             “No. Don’t...” Dean closed his eyes for a moment. “Whatever. They’re your kids. Do what you want.” Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the tent.             Cas stared at the spot he’d been two seconds ago. He felt his heart stop pumping blood and the world stop spinning. His mind whirred, trying to figure out how minutes ago they’d been happily making out in the freezing cold ocean and now he may have lost Dean. Part of him wanted to run after him, to force his body to move in frozen time, and tell Dean he’d made a mistake. Of course he was allowed to talk to the kids. Of course he was part of the family. Of course he meant everything to him.             But his feet wouldn’t move. Cas had a sinking feeling he’d done the right thing. As terrible as he felt, as much as his whole body ached with guilt, he had protected his kids. They might be too invested already but Cas could stop them from diving any deeper. He could prevent them from forming an unhealthy attachment to someone who might never be a true part of their lives. And that was more important than Dean’s feelings or his own.             Still, Cas could barely breathe. He sank down into the sand and tried to get his breathing back, gulping in air in big lungfuls, sobs leaving his throat without any tears leaving his eyes. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and he felt Charlie’s hair brush against his cheek. The tears finally came as she shifted to hold him in her arms and he felt the cold work its way back into his bones as they knelt in the sand, the wind whipping around them.

Regina entered her office and immediately called the company head of Emma's company. She pointed out every unsatisfactory flaw she could about the man before she told her of the incident she had witnessed and after explaining the fact that he should get a bad reference for any future work positions the woman on the other end of the phone was only too happy to comply. She hung up the phone and dialed 911. An old friend was happy to take her call. She sat for half an hour explaining to the police officer that had so graciously shown up when she called remembering her from those years ago. The one police officer she could trust and was there for her in her early struggles. The man noted the physical assault and noted the emotional verbal assault as well. "Normally I would require proof in hand Miss Mills, but I know you... you are a woman of your word I'll send someone over to scan the security tapes as well and see if there was any other witnesses" Regina nodded. "Thank you Teddy, It's not enough for him to be fired... he has to learn that his piggish ways are not to we rewarded. That life is what you make it. That disrespecting others brings on what you truly deserve. Plus... he wears eyeliner... That does not suit him! Teddy smiled as Regina laughed. "I'll make sure of that Ma'am. I promise. It's good to see you becoming exactly what I hoped for you. You are strong Miss Mills. You didn't let them win" Regina found herself hugging the man who graciously held the woman as the tears fell from her eyes. "It's people like you Teddy, that make the sun shine again. Thank you for helping me" Teddy wasted no time in following up his promise. Emma Swan was indeed a hopeless romantic. Regina had said seven and she knew that it was going to be a night not to be forgotten. Emma left the office and found herself in the local store. In her basket she had at least 20 candles. Massage oil and a red lace bra with matching underwear. She paid for her items and at 6.30 Emma Swan was standing in front of Regina's mansion. She clutched her bag of supplies and headed directly for the large rose trellis that climbed down from Regina's balcony. She climbed up taking her time and managing not to lose any items along the way. She hoisted herself onto the ledge and reached for her hair pin. She unlocked the door and threw her bag on the bed. She immediately went to the en suite and quickly showered, changing into her new attire. Emma began to light the candles. She heard the front door. She sat on Regina's bed and waited as she heard her footsteps coming down the corridor. Regina opened the door and gasped. "Miss Swan… The tears were in her eyes before she could blink. "Hope you don't mind I borrowed a hair pin from Robin so I could continue the conversation" Regina shook her head and laughed looking around in awe at the candles flicking against the walls. "You did all this? I suppose I should be surprised but it is you dear… full of tricks I wouldn't expect anything less… Emma smirked. "Please don't call the cops I'm not exactly dressed appropriately. I wasn't thinking... I kind of just wanted to surprise you. I hope you aren't mad. I'm spontaneously stupid sometimes" Regina laughed and walked over to the blonde who was standing against her 's gaze fell on Emma. "You look stunning… the cops... certainly not Miss Swan, I practically invited you to my humble labode. You are right on time" Emma blushed as she took her hands and placed them against her naked flesh. Regina shivered and the tingles shot through Emma. "Regina would you like a massage? I brought some oil? Regina locked eyes with the blonde. "I think I'd like you instead... Regina's heart began to beat faster as Emma caressed her face. "Don't be afraid… I'm going to take this nice and slow… whatever you want at your pace... " Regina closed her eyes and kissed Emma hungrily on the mouth opening her mouth and rapidly caressing her tongue against Emma's. Emma moaned as Regina began to unbutton her blouse. "You going to run away? I'm sorry I panicked last night… know that I really wanted you to stay… you aren't the only one who was wet Miss Swan" Emma smirked and shook her head. She buried it in Regina's shoulder and exhaled loudly. "No… I ain't going anywhere. Believe me Regina… You are making me so wet right now it's killing me" Regina smiled. "Shall we finish those 20 questions dear? Emma giggled. "We have no drink… Regina smirked. "If you answer my question Miss Swan… I'll make it worth your while" Emma's eyes widened. "Ask away! Regina laughed. "Tell me Miss Swan… how often have you thought of me sexually enough to touch yourself" Regina winked and Emma blushed. "Because I know you do… Emma let out a loud moan as Regina ran her hands against Emma's waist and across her ass. Regina reached around waiting to unhook her bra. Emma panted. "Every night… Regina unhooked her bra as her hunger filled her eyes. "Oh Emma... Emma's eyes settled on the vision of Regina's hard nipples. Regina walked over to the bed and lay down on her back. Emma followed and lay on top of her. She pushed her hair behind her ears and lowered her breasts against the brunettes. The two women bucked at the contact. "Regina… Regina raised her hands and gently rubbed her fingers against Emma's erect peaks causing Emma to moan against Regina's ear. "Touch me Emma… Emma's underwear was soaking now as she ran her tongue against Regina's neck causing Regina to whimper as she gently ran her fingers over Regina's nipples. The intense tightness zoomed to Regina's core as Emma took Regina's nipple into her mouth and sucked. Regina moaned. "Oh Emma… I'm so wet for you right now… I can't take it" The arousal on Regina's face was enough to make Emma come on the spot. She found herself unzipping Regina's work pants and throwing them beside the bed. She whispered into Regina's ear. "I'm soaking for you" Regina bucked. "Make love to me Emma… Now… Oh please now" Emma ran her hand between Regina's thighs and relished as the woman was trembling at her touch. Her breathing was growing heavy and Emma ran a finger over the soaked fabric between Regina's legs. She began to kiss Regina's body slowly from head to toe worshiping the beauty of her toned olive skin, making her cry out with arousal. Regina pushed her body closer to Emma holding onto her back. "Miss Swan… Oh Miss Swan" Emma smiled as she pushed her hand into Regina's underwear. Emma whimpered as she ran her middle finger between Regina's folds. Regina threw her eyes back at the contact and found herself holding the sides of Emma's face in her hands. "Oh you are so wet Regina... Regina shook as Emma teased her folds spreading the wetness from Regina's entrance causing her to jerk at the contact. "Wet for you... Miss Swan" Emma kissed Regina's parted lips. "Are you ready Regina? Regina smiled at the eager blonde. "Yes… Emma began to rub Regina's clit and was welcomed with a high pitched moan. Emma laughed into Regina's shoulder as Regina pulled her closer. "Is that okay? Regina felt the heat expanding and the new sensations trickled through her causing her to move about. "Oh Emma… Emma smirked. "I'll take that as a yes" Regina chuckled as Emma rubbed faster. Regina cried out. She quickly grabbed Emma's busy hand. "I want… I want you inside me Miss Swan" Emma kissed Regina on the lips again as she slipped one finger inside her was such ease. Regina was so wet the heat covered Emma's finger and Regina let out a gasp grabbing onto Emma's back again. Emma gently pulled her finger in and out. Regina found herself moving against Emma's hand. "Ohhhhhhh Emma! Emma kissed Regina's neck and whispered in her ear. "Are you okay? Am I hurting you? Tears filled Regina's eyes and she gazed into Emma's emerald ones. "No Emma… I'm ohhh fine, You aren't hurting me oh god! Emma began to rub Regina's clit with her spare hand and she knew it wouldn't take much longer. Regina's breathing grew louder and faster and she could she the pleasure rising in her brown eyes before Regina shut them as Emma rubbed really fast. That was it Regina's walls gripped tightly onto Emma's pumping finger and Regina threw her head back letting out a loud guttural moan. "EMM MMA! Oh I think I'm gonna OHHHH OHHH OHHH! Regina clutched onto the woman for dear life as she experienced the ecstasy flowing through her veins. Emma rubbed gently letting her ride out her orgasm. Regina's eyes opened. "You made me have an orgasm Miss Swan… Regina blushed. "Well that was the plan Regina…. Emma laughed. "I didn't think I would on my first… Emma smiled. "It was amazing to experience giving that to you… I hope your first time was alright Regina" Emma looked shyly at the ceiling as she collapsed on the bed. "Oh Miss Swan… That… You… This was truly unbelievable… Thank you for being my first... My first time" Emma smiled kissing her. "Are you ready for your second?

”We've got obsessions I want to wipe out all the sad ideas that come to me when I am holding you We've got obsessions All you ever think about are sick ideas involving me, involving you” --Obsessions, Marina & the Diamonds The thoughts came unbidden to Will’s mind every Wednesday night. Mid-week, he frequently considered quitting his job at the club. Will had other skills, he would find employment elsewhere. Maybe he’d move somewhere warmer, by the water. He’d grown up around boats and watched his dad fix them. Will could implement those facts that he’d retained, start a new life for himself. Strippers didn’t need to put in two week notices, and the money was saving had increased exponentially. Will’s bank account could handle moving again. He could just leave, pack up and go. He should. When he stepped down from the stage and sauntered to the back corner, the thought came again. Louder, more frantic. This is the last time. His legs moved by muscle memory as Will receded into his mind. He’d spent the better part of the last six months catering to Hannibal Lecter every Wednesday evening. The way that Will walked was just one of the concessions that he had made for the older man. It was seductive, slow, but pointed. Only for Hannibal, despite the heads that turned his way. On Wednesday nights, Will’s shifts ended early. He had put in the request five months ago. Shortly after his time spent on the large platform, Will would leave in a Bentley. His left leg would jump nervously, eyes cast downward as cool air blew over his skin. Hannibal never said a word until they were in the bedroom. He would strip Will, leaving him in the skimpy underwear that had adorned his body for the night. In the car, Will’s stomach flipped at the memory of Hannibal’s eyes--full of desire, anger, and hunger. He hated himself for not asking Wednesday nights off entirely. He hated that Hannibal would find out his schedule even if he did. He hated the way that his entire body ached Thursday, bruises littering his skin and a deep ache in his pelvis, parallel to the feeling in his heart. Will hated himself most because he still looked in that corner as his body slid down the pole. He watched for approval, the inevitable upward quirk of Hannibal’s lips. When Will could see the glint of white--sharp, his brain supplied--teeth, he would wet his lips and cant his hips upwards. “ You don’t have to go with him,” Matthew had murmured one night, three months in, as he got Hannibal’s customary scotch before going on the stage. “ I’m sure Jack would get you out of any trouble this guy might cause.” Matthew always looked at his body pointedly when Will put on concealer before heading out. The bite marks and bruises from fingers and hands weren’t what customers paid to see. They wanted flawless, hairless skin that undulated under blue light. It was easy for Will to smile at Matthew, shake his head as if his coworker was being ridiculous. Hannibal paid him really well, “ He’s a doctor, remember?”, and Will was an adult. He could make his own decisions, he could walk away when this became too much. When he started to take Thursdays off for recovery, doubt had crept into Will’s mind. The uncertainty was a slow spreading disease, curling around his vocal cords, enveloping his muscles. He didn’t want to stop this. Hannibal wanted him. The night that Hannibal asked him to start staying till morning, Will’s heart began beating frantically, attempting to escape his chest and fall into the doctor’s hands. It had been over half of a year, and Will was still accepting almost a thousand dollars to sleep with a lonely, possessive doctor on Wednesday nights. He would take the punishment doled out to him, allow the man to claim him with cock, teeth, and nails, and then Hannibal would sleep while Will laid awake in the too large bed. In the morning, Hannibal would give him coffee, bandage anything bleeding, and act remorseful for his animalistic behavior. Sometimes they ate together, the silence ringing in Will’s ears. Hannibal would drop him off at the club, and Will would drive home. He would shower, violently scrubbing at his skin. Will would sleep, trying to get the images out of his head. The violence that Will experienced in the immaculate bedroom of Hannibal Lecter was passionate. Will could feel it in the thrusts, hear it in the strangled, labored breathing. Once, he had felt some liquid dropping along the line of his spine; tears hastily brushed away by their creator. Will was a stripper, and Hannibal wanted him to be anything but. Hannibal wanted to own Will, possess him. How could he do that when others hands roamed Will’s body almost nightly? By asserting his claim. “ This is the last time,” Will finally said. The words slipped from his lips as they stopped at a red light. Hannibal didn’t look at him. The light turned green, and they kept driving towards Hannibal’s home. --- Hannibal sat in the armchair, just as he had on that first night. Will remembered how his ass was bruised for nearly three days afterwards. He remembered the uncomfortable drive back to the office back in the Bentley, jacket pulled close around his torso as if it could keep his emotions from leaking out. “ A dance,” Hannibal murmured, gesturing to his spread legs. Hannibal’s voice was strained, and maybe, Will thought, that he was addicted to how he could rend emotion from the stoic man before him. It had taken him months to get Hannibal to even look at his body in the club. When Hannibal had finally looked at Will, touched him, it became clear that all of their encounters were physical expressions of the doctor’s jealousy. Will had tried to shut it out for the first month or so. He disassociated, tuning out the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the derogatory terms that the older man slung at him. All he felt was Hannibal’s desire to possess him. The need to claim was so strong within the other man, Will was surprised that he always wore a condom. Will never spoke to Hannibal when they fucked. The appropriate noises left his lips when prompted by physical cues. As the months went by, some involuntary ones made their way out as well. He allowed Hannibal’s words to wash over him in waves, shameful and humiliating. They never looked at one another. Will’s face was always on the bed, eyes blankly staring at the pillows. Hannibal never attempted to take him any other way. He was most powerful in this position--one hand clenching Will’s left hip for leverage, the other on the back of his neck. A warning. Hannibal’s fingers were drumming against the wooden arm of the chair, bringing Will back to the moment at hand. Will moved towards the doctor in rehearsed steps. His body was lithe, smooth, and the concealer had been washed from his skin. Hannibal enjoyed seeing the remnants of the previous week’s work. If the marks were still there, Will was still his. As his shirt was removed, yellowing bruises were revealed. Last week, Hannibal had lined his torso with clothespins. Up each side of his abdomen, around his nipples, on the tender skin of his armpits and sensitive underarms. A line of string had been threaded through the head of each clip, leverage to pull the pins off at once. They hadn’t all come free with the single tug,and the others were released individually. The blood had rushed back into Will’s abused skin painfully and he cried. In this moment, Hannibal’s fingers passed over the fading color lovingly. Will halted in his gyrations upon the man’s lap. Hannibal normally would not touch with such care, even afterwards. Two fingers pinched his ass--Will continued. “ You’re beautiful.” Will didn’t stop this time. He turned, stood, and began to grind back onto Hannibal’s lap. He buried his hands into his own hair, trailing them down to his pants. The loose fitting jeans came off much easier than some of his other garments. He was grateful. The sooner this was over, the better. Will couldn’t handle Hannibal saying such things--the reverence in his voice was palpable. The first night that Hannibal asked him to stay the night, Will laid his head upon the broad chest reluctantly. Coarse curls brushed against his face, and his exhales were shaky. He didn’t dare sleep. Will couldn’t prevent his imagination from running rampant. He thought of breakfast in the kitchen that he’d caught a glimpse of. He thought of being comfortable in these arms, this bed. He thought of a new life, with a different job, a different past. One where the hand that rested upon his shoulder didn’t feel possessive, but protective. Weeks turned into months and it became easier for Will to be a warm body. He knew in his heart, the outcome of this arrangement. There was no use in daydreaming, it only made his job harder. So Will tucked away his silly dreams, deep down where they couldn’t produce false hope. Long forgotten fantasies rushed into Will’s mind, a dam released with two words and a brush of fingertips. He nearly choked on them. Instead, Will tripped over the hem of his jeans as he attempted to step out of them. Hannibal caught him by the waist, deft fingers stabilizing him. Will didn’t dare look back, merely pushing his ass back into the hands that rested upon the black underwear that he’d worn for his shift. On a normal night, Will would be face down in the bed by now. Hannibal typically pulled Will’s underwear to his ankles, restricting how far he could spread his legs. He wasn’t unkind in his preparation of Will’s body, but it was never easy to adjust after being submerged in pain. A month ago, after caning Will, Hannibal sat beside him on the bed for nearly half an hour, stroking his sides. Will felt like an over-worked horse. His body was twitching, face buried into the duvet, and fingers cramped from squeezing the fabric tightly. Will almost thought that they weren’t going to fuck. They did, but it wasn’t the feverish, primal action of their usual nights together. Will thought that maybe Hannibal was having a bad day. Now, he couldn’t deceive himself. Hannibal didn’t want this to be the last time, but it was. Maybe the other man was regretting how they’d spent the last six months together. Will was half-tempted to ask if the doctor would’ve changed anything that happened between them. Will was truly caught off guard when Hannibal stood, and turned him. They didn’t differ in height by much, but Will always felt small around the jealous man. Hannibal placed two fingers below Will’s chin and tilted his face up, bringing their lips together. A demanding tongue slid into Will’s mouth, exploring while their lips massaged together. Another large hand came to cup his jaw, but Will pulled away, gasping and shaking his head. “ I don’t kiss clientele. No kissing.” He couldn’t stop shaking his head, gaze on the ground. Hannibals fingers came back to his face, but Will swatted them away. He defiantly made eye contact, trying to look stern. Inside, he was slowly losing his resolve. This is the last time. What was the harm? “ Lecter, I mean it! No--” “ Am I really clientele, Will?” Hannibal’s eyes were glossed with a mixture of admiration and heartbreak. The words punched Will in the gut. “ Yeah! You fucking pay me,” he snapped quickly, realizing how stupid it sounded. That wasn’t what Hannibal was asking. “ You pay me, Hannibal. I’m a stripper. This is a service.” Will didn’t want this to be a service. Despite the relentless fucking, the beatings, and the slurs, Will still held some desire for Hannibal. He’d never truly gotten to experience what he wanted with the doctor. Sex, not fucking. Mutual enjoyment, not pleasure for a single body. “ When will you stop pretending, Will? You would have never let this continue if you did not want to belong to me.” Hannibal closed the gap that Will had placed between their bodies. A hand went to Will’s left side, thumbing at the hem of his underwear. When their lips met again, Will let it happen. He kissed back. It had been a long time since he’d made out with anyone, but his hands found comfortable spots around Hannibal’s neck. He didn’t make any motion to remove Hannibal’s clothing as they stumbled back onto the bed. Will wrapped his legs around the other man’s waist, enjoying the fact that he wasn’t automatically flipped onto hands and knees. The kisses were slow and Hannibal was circling his hips into Will’s pelvis with a calculated pressure. Everything was gentler than the usual ferocity. It was meant to be savored. When their lips parted, Hannibal stepped back and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. Will’s pupils were blown with lust at the toned body that was revealed to him. Hannibal slept naked, but the lights were always dimmed by the time that he slid out of his clothes. Will wasn’t sure whether he was meant to be seeing this, and began to flip over into his typical position. A large hand caught his hip, bringing it back down onto the bed with careful force. “ I want to watch you.” Hannibal’s voice was thick with desire, his accent dropping into an impossibly lower timbre. Will was momentarily terrified--he’d forgotten about whatever creative punishment he would be served this week. The pain never came. Hannibal didn’t leave his place between Will’s spread thighs. Will was aghast. He began to open his mouth, to tell Hannibal that it would cost less without the corporal punishment, but closed his lips. This was never about the money. For Hannibal, the cost wasn’t even a dent in his wallet. It was a check written at the end of a session, a transaction that had no effect on his life. For Will, it was a part of a contract--something he used for safety. Hannibal was completely naked, their skin met and Will thought that he was even smiling. This sensation is what he’d been waiting for. Devotion that wasn’t felt with pain, but pleasure. When two fingers pushed inside, Will moaned, and the sound wasn’t to keep face. Without his senses warring for attention, Will could focus solely on the pleasure being given to him. Hannibal’s fingers were skilled. His kisses were warm and wet on Will’s neck, teeth giving possessive nips on thin skin. In a different light, the touches from Hannibal didn’t hurt at all. They felt good. Will was pushing his hips back, giving as he was getting. He could feel the older man’s eyes on his face, roaming down his chest to where his cock was half-hard, and then back up to parted lips. “ You’re beautiful,” Hannibal said again, but it was more of a whisper. The words were sincere, and they were painful. Will imagined a new backstory for them. One where this was their every night, where Will’s profession didn’t cause profound jealousy in Hannibal. In Will’s head, this night was no different from any other. Hannibal had three fingers inside of him now, carving pleasure from his body with an easy, practiced grace. Will was whining, his hands white knuckled from fisting the sheets. “ Please, please fuck me, Hannibal.” “ Yeah,” the doctor agreed, pulling his hand away. Hannibal’s eyes were wide, voice shaking. He clearly hadn’t been prepared for the eagerness. “ Yeah, okay.” Will shuddered when he felt the man’s tip at his entrance. In the past, his vision would cloud by now, leaving only a sea of high thread count sheets in shades of blue. Now, he watched as Hannibal’s hair had become slowly dishevelled. He looked between his legs, at the other man’s rubber-covered cock. No wonder he’d been so sore in the past--it was thick. Will looked back up at the sharp cheekbones that had first caught his attention. In the lit bedroom, Hannibal’s face appeared cut from marble. The doctor’s lips were parted, eyes closed, and the softest groan made its way from his mouth. Will’s cock jerked at the sound, the accompanying image. His erection began to flag as Hannibal relentlessly pushed inside. The action was done with care, but the pressure, the burn, was too much too fast. Will was panting, grappling at Hannibal’s back as his body attempted to adjust. He had never been mentally present for this part. Tears welled in his eyes, and Hannibal stopped abruptly, leaning down to kiss the liquid that spilled over onto his cheeks. “ What’s wrong, Will? I...I can stop.” Hannibal sounded frightened that Will didn’t want this for the same reasons as him. He was afraid the feelings weren’t mutual. Will barked out a short, breathless laugh. “ I just... I always zone out. You’re fucking huge, Hannibal. Christ, that’s a cock you’ve got there.” With his ego patched, Hannibal smirked. It was a sight that Will had never seen on the older man before. He thought it was quite endearing, seeing the crinkles around darkened eyes. The sentimental considerations didn’t last long; Hannibal gave a final push and bottomed out inside of Will. The young man sank his nails into the flesh they fell upon. He gasped, mouth, eyes, and hole wide open for Hannibal. “ Jesus, fuck. Hannibal, fuck. God damn, you’re just….” Will was at a loss for words. Months of not speaking during their trysts had taken a toll on him. The dam had been cracked earlier, and now the foundations crumbled. “ I need you to fuck me. Right now, please. I need you to move, Hannibal.” Hannibal was staring at Will, trying his best not to lose the last iota of control he managed to retain throughout the evening. Will was begging for Hannibal to take him, and the older man was in awe. It had been enough to hear the whimpering, watch him push back on the length of Hannibal’s cock. Will could see right through Hannibal, could feel the adoration in his gaze. He could feel something more--a long forgotten emotion that resided in the pit of his own stomach. It was a feeling that he didn’t want to think about. But the longer Hannibal just stared down at him, cock fully sheathed inside of Will’s body, the easier it was for his mind to wander. They were...connected. Will’s voice was all frustration when he finally worked up the nerve to speak again. “ Hannibal! Fuck me!” Hannibal obliged him, pulling out nearly all the way before thrusting in again. For a long while, the actions were languid. Hannibal fucked Will with the entirety of his length, the sound of their skin smacking punctuated by Will’s breathy, almost feminine moans. Noises left from high up in his throat, finding their way out with each exhale. Hannibal’s pace picked up, his thrusts becoming shallow and desperate. One hand was beside Will’s head for support and the other trailed to his erection. Will was unfamiliar with the calloused hands on his cock, but he pushed his head farther back into the mattress at first contact. His back arched, and Will tried desperately to thrust both into the hand and back onto Hannibal’s cock, but the attempt was futile. Will’s moans were undulating, punctuated by his diaphragm spasming with each hard thrust. He didn’t know what to do with his body; this pleasure was unfamiliar. It had been absent from his life for quite a time. His relationships had been brief--who wanted to date a stripper? What Will lacked in initiative, Hannibal more than made up for. The man was creating waves of pleasure with his hand, tsunamis with his cock. It took Will an embarrassingly short amount of time before he was on the precipice of orgasm. “ Hanni, fuck.” His attempted declaration was cut short by a particularly rough movement on his prostate. “ ‘M gonna cum, okay?” Hannibal smiled. It wasn’t the predator’s look, as it had been in months past. This was a smile that reached the eyes, genuine with pride. “ Yeah,” the doctor agreed, nuzzling into Will’s neck, licking a thick stripe of saliva up his carotid. “ Go on.” He bit down. Will came. The sensation that moved through Will was atypical. He thought of female orgasms, how they were supposed to touch every inch of skin, make you shiver and shake with the feeling. That’s what he felt. Waves of pleasure lapped up his hips, torso, down his thighs and calves, all the way to his fingers and toes. Will was briefly unaware of any other sense. Was he crying? When the post-orgasmic haze cleared from his mind, Will felt Hannibal moving from atop him. He heard the condom drop into the trash, and then dared to open his eyes. The room was still the same, except for the smell of sex. They were still the same people. This wasn’t going to work. That was the last time. Will almost wanted to cry, as he had the first night. Hannibal truly did worship Will. He had wanted him in a way that no other man had. His passion was that of fables. Will was positive that the older man would keep him safe from harm, could provide for him, and make him happy. When he glanced up at Hannibal, re-entering the bedroom with a wet washcloth, the other man seemed to be thinking the same thing. A proposal was on his lips. “ We won’t fit, Hannibal.” The mouth closed, jaw set. Hannibal began to clean Will with gentle, tender strokes of the flannel. When the doctor spoke again, his words were so soft that Will almost missed them. “ I can be reshaped.” “ It’s not you, it’s me,” Will got out through gritted teeth, all cliches. “ I’m a stripper, you’re a doctor. This isn’t a movie. You don’t know the first thing about me.” Hannibal looked up at him, pain swimming in his eyes. “ You have too many dogs, because you relate to them better than people. You’re good at your job because you know what men want from you. You’re from the South. You make more than enough money but don’t treat yourself well because you grew up poor. You’re good with your hands, a mechanic of sorts. You’re the most beautiful human being I have ever met. You deserve better than people grappling for your body alone, when you have so much more to offer.” It was more than Will had ever heard out of Hannibal’s mouth. The shock at the implications of Hannibal’s words overrode his fear of how Hannibal had gotten all of that information. Will shook his head, trying to blink back the tears, wishing they wouldn’t track down his cheeks. “ I’m leaving Maryland. I’m moving away, I can’t do this anymore. You’re my last, okay? Isn’t that enough?” “ No. It’s not,” Hannibal whispered. He traced a hand over the line of Will’s jaw before the young man jumped up from the bed. He began to dress again, hands shaking. Will could see the doctor moving towards his dresser, producing a checkbook, out of the corner of his eyes. With a herculean effort, Will moved towards Hannibal. He stayed the large hand with his smaller fingers. “ Not this time.” Once fully dressed, Hannibal led him downstairs. Will insisted on hailing a cab. He couldn’t be with Hannibal for one more second, lest he second guess himself. “ Why?” The question didn’t need explanation. Why do this free of charge, as a consensual act of lovers? Hannibal was clearly hurt. Will thought, maybe for a moment, that the man had misinterpreted the first sentence that Will had uttered that evening. Maybe Hannibal thought this had been a new chapter for them. Will stood in the doorway, and rain came down. Perhaps this wasn’t the epilogue to a fairy-tale gone wrong, but a prologue to a different story. Sure it would be full of struggle, but Will considered again Hannibal’s devotion to him. “ You’re not clientele, Hannibal.”

“And that’s when I learned to always check the area first, before gathering truffles.” The grounder explained, voice raspy from exhaustion, but neither girl wanting to be the first to fall asleep. Clarke fights slumber’s beckoning calls, eyelids heavy as she lets an airy chuckle leave her lips. It’s nice relearning Lexa and all the little things; her thoughts, her feelings, what few memories she may have left from before she was called to lead. Her stories are spotty at times, mainly when she tries to recall more recent events, so they are mostly simple or from her childhood, but Clarke clings to them, each a treasured part of the Lexa she loves and her past. Sometimes they discuss surface level things: her favorite color, her favorite animal, even things she’d read in the past when she was still able to attend school. They’re the type of things that would normally be overlooked, but to the blonde, they’re the things that matter most. They’re real. They’re Lexa. Clarke lies on her back as she listens intently to each small tale, offering some of her own. She tries to avoid any obvious references to The Commander of the Blood, and keeps most of her stories to the first few years of her life, memories of a time when she was just a bit freer on the Ark: her mother and father, still together, before everything started to spiral. Eventually, Clarke can no longer ward off the temptation of sleep and when she looks over, the silhouetted figure is still, a steady, gentle breath coming from where Lexa lay comfortably. She allows herself one last lingering glance at  the brunette, wishing it were light enough inside the metal room for her to see the peaceful expression on Lexa’s face. She lets her head sink into the pillow, closing her eyes. Behind her eyelids she still sees her, fully relaxed, slouching into the seat. Her head is leaning against the armrest of the couch, chest rising and falling slowly. Polis. Home. Lexa. They are the final thoughts the blonde has before she finally drifts off to sleep. The next morning, Clarke wakes first feeling just a little bit lighter. Having the ability to reconnect on a new level has brought her the smallest sense of relief. She looks over at the serene brunette, face dimly lit by the small amount of sunlight seeping through the walls of the titanium structure. She misses the feeling of the Earth and being connected to the ground, but having Lexa with her makes it more than bearable. Home is where the heart is. My heart is with you. She silently vows to the sleeping brunette. She feels it before she sees it. Moments after her private acknowledgement, Lexa begins to stir mumbling her name. She carefully comes to the side of the girl’s bed, placing a hand on her arm, rubbing where she knows an intricate tribal tattoo hides just under the thin fabric of her shirt sleeve. “Clarke.” Lexa gasps, head tilting from side to side in distress. “Clarke!” Her voice raises, tinged with urgency and fear. “I’m here. Come back, Lexa.” She encourages. “Come back to me.” She pleads, words placing a sinking feeling in her stomach. She pushes through it, forcing her mind to focus on comforting the brunette who is still squirming, fists balled up as she mutters desperately. “You were right, Clarke…” Her voice goes silent, body rigid as she falls back into her dream and Clarke’s breath hitches. A moment later, her eyes flutter open and a pair of glassy green orbs latches on to stunning blue. “What happened?” She asks carefully, removing her hand as the brunette sits up in the bed. “I had a dream, a nightmare.” Lexa clarifies. “There was no gunshot sound, yet so many were still suffering.” She frowns, brows furled in confusion. “What do you mean?” Clarke goads. “I saw a burning village.” The grounder elaborates, her eyes darting as though she was still recalling the events in present time. “Thousands of my people were running, yet I was so far. I wanted to help them, but my body would not move. It was as though I was being restricted, or something was restraining me from saving them.” She says, clearly distraught. TonDC. “Have you had these…” realities Clarke wants to say. “visions before?” The blonde asks. “No.” The brunette shakes her head. “I don’t understand where they came from. If they were from my past, I cannot believe I would not have gone back to help those in need.” She insists. Sometimes you must concede a battle to win a war. “Maybe it was strategic.” Clarke offers half-heartedly. “I could never abandon my people,” The grounder shakes her head. “Or any people.” She adds, eyes falling to the ground, clearly realizing where she is. I want your people to become my people. So many memories replay in her mind, threatening to spill from her lips in the heat of the moment that Clarke makes the first move to cut the conversation off. “Let’s not talk about it right now. It’s in the past.” “I suppose you are right.” The brunette nods. “Let’s get something to eat.” The blonde offers, standing and holding out her hand for Lexa to take. Her slender fingers brush across Clarke’s knuckles as she grasps at it, and the blonde feels a spark ignite in her heart again. Forcing down the urge to pull her close, she leads them to the dining hall, reuniting with the group they had spent the previous evening with. Clarke spends the first few minutes of breakfast simply staring at the girl. Lexa had recalled an entire event without being prompted at all about it. Maybe being in Arkadia, talking to Clarke at night, and being around the blonde was somehow jogging her memory, stimulating her stimulating repressed thoughts and feelings. Would it be possible to keep that going if they were to talk every night? If Clarke would drop hints about her past memories, would Lexa be able to recover them? Bellamy nudges her for staring so long at the brunette. It’s obvious to the whole table, it seems, except for maybe Lexa, who is still puzzled by the Sky People’s use of utensils. “So… You two look tired.” Raven notes. “Rough night.” The blonde answers on behalf of them both. “I can’t even recall when we finally fell asleep.” Lexa nods in agreement. Raven snorts. “We were just talking.” She defends, knowing exactly what the mechanic is insinuating.  “Talking, huh?” Raven cocks a brow. “That’s what you’re calling it?” She smirks. “I’m hungry.” Clarke rolls her eyes, focusing on her plate. From the corner of her eye, she sees Raven angle over the table, signaling for Lexa to lean in as well. She whispers something into the brunette’s ear and she nods obediently. “Are you thirsty, Clarke?” Lexa asks and Raven can barely repress her devilish grin. “I hate you.” The blonde grumbles, eliciting a laugh from the mechanic. The joke completely goes over the grounder’s head as she offers, “I can get you a beverage.” “No. It’s okay. Raven is just being an ass.” She glares at the girl who simply laughs even harder. --- After breakfast and a few more playful jabs from the mechanic, the two spend the rest of the day in each other’s company. It reminds her of old times in Polis, when things were just between the two of them and the walls of the capital kept them safe. There’s a tiny voice in the blonde’s head that reminds her that she still has things to take care of, people to save, citizens to protect. But her main priority, her sole focus, is standing right in front of her, knuckles brushing against her own as they strolled through Arkadia. So she pushes it down for the moment, allowing herself to breathe; a moment to take in the air and the Earth and the girl. When they return to her room to retire for the night, she inspects the healing wound on Lexa’s stomach, feels a wave of nostalgia wash over her. “It’s doing well.” She notes, index finger trailing along the stitched path. Lexa shivers under her touch, green eyes focused on the blonde and her actions. “Are you cold?” She husks, eyes lidded, as she leans forward, her body magnetically attracted toward the brunette. “No.” Lexa whispers, swallowing, gaze falling to Clarke’s lips as the blonde’s do the same. “Lexa.” She says through a sharp intake of breath, heart drumming away in her ears. “Clarke.” The brunette returns just as breathlessly, barely able to pronounce the click at the end of her name that she usually lingered on. She doesn’t think either of them actually speaks a word out loud, but they’re leaning into one another. She can see the small freckle on Lexa’s top lip and the ring of brown around her pupils. So close. Their noses touch and her eyes flutter closed, brushing against soft skin. Kiss me. She silently wills the brunette. Please. She can feel Lexa’s warm breath dancing against her lips. Just a little further and… The brunette pulls back. “I…” she stutters. “I’m sorry.” She apologizes, shifting away from the blonde. “I’ve overstepped.” She purses her lips regretfully. “You still miss her and I did not…” Clarke sighs. “It’s okay. Let’s just go to sleep.” She deflects. Lexa nods, and they change into comfortable clothing, Clarke struggling to keep her eyes from drawing over to the brunette’s back as she pulls a light cotton shirt over her head. The muscles flex and tattoos on her back twist with her skin. She wants to trace over it. To kiss a trail down her spine. One for every time the brunette made her fall for her. And millions more for every second of every day. She turns off the lights, settling into her bunk while Lexa climbs into her cot silently, turning on her side. “Goodnight, Klarke kom Skaikru.” The brunette says into the darkness. Clarke lays silent. When she hears Lexa’s breathing, signaling that she had fallen asleep, she whispers a “Reshop, Heda” into the darkness, and closes her eyes. She wakes not even an hour later, her heart feeling as though it was being squeezed by an imaginary force. Something was off. She looks over to the brunette’s bunk, squinting into the dark. When she’s fails to make out the girl’s silhouetted form, she runs to the light switch, flicking it on. Lexa is missing. She quickly slips on her shoes and tears through the building. She’s sure she’s probably awakened some of the residents with the sound of her boots against the metal halls, but she has no time for silence when her brain is screaming. She’s about to round up a horse when she catches sight of a small figure standing just outside the gates. Her heart rate finally plummets as she approaches the brunette. Lexa turns before she gets to her, hearing her coming, or sensing her presence. Probably a bit of both. “What are you doing out here?” She asks carefully. The brunette holds out a clasped hand sheepishly. When Clarke looks down, she releases her fingers so that her palm is facing openly and two small specks of light fly out from her grasp, floating in a dance around one another before rising up into the night. “When I was younger, I used to think of them as pieces of the sky that had fallen down.” The grounder confesses. “I tried to catch them sometimes, wanting to hold on to them and keep them, like small guardians that came to bring light to the darker parts of our world.” She explains. “They were like stars, on the ground. I’ve always wanted to have a star of my own.” Clarke looks out into the darkness, catching sight of the blinking bodies of the lightning bugs. She looks up at the sky full of stars. “They’re nicer than stars.” Clarke says. “Why do you say that?” Lexa tilts her head, skillfully catching another bug with one hand before reopening her palm to let it fly away. “Stars stay where they are. They’re stuck in the sky.” Clarke admits. “They can’t move.” I can’t move forward. “Stars only come out at night when we need them most.” The brunette says metaphorically. “Just as these hide in the winter.” She gestures to the dancing light surrounding them, rising against the grass blowing in the breeze. “At night and in the winter, the world sleeps, but in the summer, with the light of day, we awaken ourselves again, bringing new life.” Lexa says gently. “We start again.” Clarke takes a moment to collect herself, overwhelmed by the girl’s words. “Will you show me how?” She asks. “Of course.” Lexa nods, leading her back inside.

When Bucky stares into the mirror, he can’t help but smile. He looked damn good. He’d cut his hair to the way it was before the war, before the solder, before Darcy. He was dressed in a finely tailored 3 piece suit in a dark navy blue, the tie had yet to be placed just yet. He was happy, happier than he’d ever been in his whole life. “Maybe you should be marrying your reflection rather than Darcy.” Steve teased as he straightened his own tie. “Shut it, punk. Even you can recognise how great I look" Bucky smirked in return, running his fingers through his hair. “You look great because you look happy.” The blonde patted his shoulder. “I am.” He nodded and turned to face his best friend “Can you do me a favour?” “Sure, Buck.” Steve smiled “Anything.” “Go check on Darce? Make sure she’s okay? She was really nervous about her dress and stuff.” Bucky asked hopefully “Just tell her it’ll all be okay, and that I bet she looks beautiful.” ** Jane and Pepper were fussing with Darcy’s hair while Natasha and Sif sat to the side, sipping champagne when there was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” Jane rushed to the door, holding it closed just in case it was Bucky coming to strike bad luck on them. “It’s Steve. I’ve got a message for the bride.” He called through. The door was opened and the best man stepped inside, looking over all the bridesmaids as they stood to greet him. “You girls look amazing.” He grinned, kissing each woman on the cheek. As he had been fairly involved in planning the wedding, it was his idea that all the bridesmaids wear whatever dress they want, as long as it was black to match the groomsmen. “You look pretty good yourself, Cap.” Natasha smiled. “Not too good, I hope.” Darcy said as she stood “Can’t have you outshining the groom.” A wide grin broke out across Steve’s face when he looked Darcy over in her wedding dress. It was designer, strapless , made of a cream silk that hugged her waist and draped down to just above her knees. Bucky was right, she did look beautiful. “Does it look okay?” She asked and it was clear that Bucky was also right about her worrying. “Darcy, that dress is gorgeous.” He assured her “And you look a million bucks.” “I’d hope so, that’s basically how much the dress cost.” Darcy laughed shakily. Steve chuckled. He couldn’t lie, had Bucky not gotten to her first, Steve probably would have asked Darcy out himself. He even would have fallen in love with her. Every now and then, he’d catch himself out, looking at the happy couple with envy rather than happiness for his friend. Who could blame him? She was bright, funny, smart and looked like one of the pinups he used to see on the walls of fellow soldiers bunks. It made sense that he would want the same girl Bucky wanted, they were best friends after all. But now, on the day where the window would finally close, he couldn’t bring himself to feel jealous, because this was right and the window had actually closed a long time ago. Bucky and Darcy were meant for eachother, and nothing in Steve could deny that. “Are you okay?” He asked, taking her hand. “I’m scared, Steve.” She said quietly “I don’t know if I’m good enough to marry him, last night I dreamt that I got to the end of the aisle and he wasn’t there..” “Darce, you’re more than good enough.” Steve assure her “He told me to tell you not to worry, and that he’s sure you look stunning. He’ll be there, even if I have to drag him there myself.” She tiptoed up and pressed a kiss to his cheek “Thank you, Steve.” “Okay, Cap. You and I are going to check on Bucky.” Natasha piped up “You guys, finish Darcy’s hair.” She ordered before pushing Steve out the door. ** “брат” Natasha said softly as she entered the room “You okay?” Bucky spun to face her and smiled softly “I’m fine. You surprised I haven’t made a run for it yet?” “No, I know that you know that we’d all kill you if you did that to her.” She smiled back, which was rare for her. “I’d kill myself if I ever did that to her.” He joked. But it wasn’t a joke, and it hung heavy in the air. “You’ve changed.” Natasha said softly, getting his tie and beginning to fix it onto his neck. The two of them had trained together, fought together. It may have been for the wrong people, but there was always the bond between them even after they were clear of the brainwashing. That meant that Natasha was as much a groomsman as she was a bridesmaid. On the other hand, Steve was a bridesmaid as much as he was a groomsman, so they’d be walking eachother down the aisle. “Just ‘cause I’m getting married, doesn’t mean I’m leaving any of you.” Bucky protested. “No, I mean. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore.” She explained “Before you met Darcy, there was still that little part of you that was still him. But that’s gone now. And I’m happy for you.” He took one of her hands from where it was tying his tie and pressed a kiss to it. “спасибо, сестра.” Bucky murmured. “But I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten your russian.” Natasha laughed softly, placing the finishing touched on his tie and making sure it was straight “But your accent is terrible now. Too American.” The groom grinned and looked at himself in the mirror one last time. “James Buchanan Barnes.” Steve grinned “Lets get you married.” *** Bucky stayed facing the alter as the music began to play, so he didn’t catch the wedding party make their way down the aisle. Darcy insisted that Tony give her away. So that left Clint to walk Pepper and Sam to walk Sif. Thor walked Jane down the aisle with a proud grin, having already married her, and Steve and Natasha made their way down the aisle with the bright faces of proud parents. Bucky could tell that Darcy had entered when he heard the collective gasp of the guest, which was made up of about 25 SHIELD agents and some of Darcy friends from college. “You’ve got to take a look at her, Bucky.” Steve says to his right. He turns slowly, but once he’s seen her he can’t look away. It was like having the air knocked from his lungs. She’s practically glowing as she walked towards him, obviously concentrating as to not trip and fall and keeping her eyes on his the whole time. Darcy isn’t wearing a veil, she said she just didn’t see the point of them, so he can see her beautiful features. Her hair is elaborately pinned up with a few tendrils left down to frame her face. Her eye makeup is gold and shimmery, sparkling in the light of the hall they were marrying in. She finally reaches him and, with a few jokingly stern words from Tony to Bucky, slips her hands into his. “Hey.” Darcy said softly. “Hey.” He grinned “You look amazing. Better than amazing, Doll. You...wow.” Buck trailed off into a small, breathless laugh. “You look very handsome, baby.” She smiled, and brushed her thumb over his knuckles “But you look like you’re about to cry. And if you cry, then I’ll cry. So you pack that up.” Bucky laughed again, and the priest addressed everybody. Neither of them were really paying attention until it came to the vows. Darcy went first. “I guess I just want to thank you, really.” She smiled “Thank you for loving me. Because now I don’t need anything else in the world, as long as you love me. If you can promise to love me for the rest of my life, I don’t need anything more. I know I’ll love you forever, Bucky. I promise I’ll always be there for you. Because you and me, baby, we’re forever. There was a time when I thought I’d never see you again, and that was the worst feeling I’ve ever had. I never want that. So I promise to be by your side. Forever.” A few tears streamed down her cheeks, Bucky reached up and brushed them away before she could. And then he read out his vows. “I never really believed in fate. With all the stuff I watched Steve go through, and Nat, and myself, I didn’t think there was anybody out there looking out for me. But now I know that there must be, because everything, every little thing I did lead me to you. It all lead to me going for a walk that night, walking into your diner and sitting in your section. And I saw what I thought was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But everyday you prove me wrong. Because I thought it was you in that waitress uniform, then it was you in that purple dress, then it was how you look every morning when you wake up. But now it’s you, in that wedding dress that you look dynamite in, Princess. And you’re about to become mine forever. And I’ll love you forever, I promise.” Bucky feels his own tears begin to fall, and he see’s that Darcy is crying too. They speed everything up, because they can’t just stand there in tears. Steve and Jane hand over the rings, which are placed on the happy couples fingers moments later. “Well, by the Power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” the priest announced “You may now kiss the bride.”   The cheers to the crowd fade away as Bucky crashes his lips against his wifes and pulls her close. They pull back after a long moment, looking into eachothers eyes. “I love you so much.” he muttered. “I love you too.” She breathed before pulling him back in for another kiss, deeper this time. Darcy pulled back again, grinning “So this is the start of forever.” Bucky shook his head “Nah, Doll. Forever started when I saw you in that diner.”

"I think we need a crane to lift Lucius' jaw off the floor." Harry wasn't sure what was so surprising in his results as Lucius had snatched the parchment paper up before it had even finished revealing everything. "I am going to save the memory forever." Harry laughed. "I do believe it would be best if Mr. Potter were to review the results." Ironclaw started to clear the ingredients off of his desk. Griphook started to pull the rings and folders required from the cabinets behind him. Lucius reread the results before handing them to Harry. "We will need to revamp a few things based on your results." Harry read his results, glanced at Lucius and the two goblins, and reread them. "Well, this explains a lot of stuff. It certainly clarifies the crap that Dumbledore likes to spew out. Love...pfft." *Love.* Tom voiced his own opinion regarding Dumbledore which Harry ignored as he read the results again. Regulus Harrison Orion James Black Potter FATHER: James Fleamont Potter FATHER: Sirius Orion Black SURROGATE: Lillian Calla Evans STATUS: Human MAGICAL: Pureblood, Necromancer DOB: 31 July 1980 DEATH: 31 October 1981 REBIRTH: 31 October 1981 -Necromancer HORCRUX: Tom Marvolo Riddle (active) Declared adult 31 October 1994 -Ministry of Magic, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Goblet of Fire TITLES: Slytherin (Lord -conquest) Gryffindor (Lord) Peverell (Lord at 17-conquest and inheritance) Black-Lord Potter-Lord Fawley (Lord at 17-last of the original line) Gaunt (Lord at 17-conquest) Shafiq (Lord at 17-last of the original line--surrogate inheritance Lillian Calla Evans) Burke (Lord at 17-last of the original line--surrogate inheritance Lillian Calla Evans) BLOCKS: Metamorphmagi 100% -Blocked 31 October 1981 Albus Dumbledore Animagus 100% -Blocked 31 October 1981 Albus Dumbledore Wandless Magic 90% -Blocked 31 October 1981 Albus Dumbledore Legilimency And Occlumency 100% -Blocked 31 October 1981 Albus Dumbledore (Connection to Tom Marvolo Riddle unlocked) Parseltongue Magical Resistance 50% -Blocked 31 October 1981 Albus Dumbledore Necromancy 100% -Blocked 31 October 1981 Albus Dumbledore BINDS: 5 Magical Binds 50% -Blocked Albus Dumbledore 10% bind on 31 October 1981, 10% bind 11 September 1985, 10% 30 June 1985, 10% 31 July 1991, 10% 4 September 1991 Soul Bind 100% -Blocked 31 October 1981 Albus Dumbledore 31 October 1981 Location bind-Dursleys residence #4 Privat Dr. Little Whinging, Surrey 31 October 1981 Hate - Dursleys 31 October 1981 Reckless -31 July 1991 Harry had paled as he read the blocks and binds. He didn't understand the full list of titles and Lordships but he figured he could get answers on that easily. He also found that Lily being a surrogate with Sirius being one of his fathers explained a lot of problems that Sirius had. He wondered if Remus was aware of the issue? He had to be but why didn't he do something about it? Why didn't Remus tell him? Why didn't Remus help Sirius? He looked at Lucius before returning to Ironclaw. "There's more isn't there?" "Yes, I am afraid there is based on these results." Ironclaw set three scrolls on the desk. "Your parents' wills were sealed upon their deaths. Albus Dumbledore sealed James Potter and Lillian Evans on the 31st of October in 1981 and Sirius Black's was sealed on the 18th of June 1996." "What will be needed for them to be unsealed?" Lucius was already thinking of the different ways to kill Dumbledore. "Harry, ask for a full accounting of your vaults. I have a feeling there is more you haven't been aware of." Ironclaw sighed deeply. "Mr. Potter, have you not received any statements?" "I wasn't even aware I had more than my trust vault. I never got a statement. Dumbledore also made sure I could never visit here beyond my first year when Griphook took me to my vault." Harry was going to use Dumbledore as a practice dummy. He was going to slowly kill the old fool after seeing if Severus Snape wanted to test some potions on him. He wondered how muggle poisons worked on wizards? Did they show up on scans? He smirked. He was going to slowly poison the old fool. Ironclaw exchanged a glance with Griphook. "I do believe we will need a full audit on any account that Albus Dumbledore has made withdrawals from." Ironclaw looked at the three scrolls and the accounting books. "The wills can be unsealed at the request of Mr. Potter. If Mr. Potter were to take up his lordships and request the wills to be unsealed, it would provide us with the ability to share the results with the Wizenagamot without revealing Mr. Potter's request. If we were to unseal them before Mr. Potter takes his Lordships, we can provide the information to those present now while leaving the Wizenagamot unaware. We can also handle the accounting and audit without revealing the results at the Wizenagamot. If Mr. Potter were to take his titles after we conduct our business, we are not obligated to share the results with the Wizenagmot until Lord Potter formally requests us to share the results." "The advantages and disadvantages to taking up my Lordship before opening the wills?" Harry wasn't sure why the goblins were providing the extra information but he had a feeling the goblins didn't like Dumbledore. "Power," Lucius answered. "If we keep it hidden we can use it at the right time to remove him. If we do it now, no one will believe us and he will use his power and friends to get control over you. There are so many who see him as being the newest form of Merlin." Harry looked at the wills. "I have a feeling he sealed them to force me to go to the Dursleys and keep him away from Sirius. It would explain why he never worked on getting him free. I just don't understand why Lily was there that night unless Dumbledore did something? I want the wills unsealed, a full accounting of my vaults, a way to get rid of the binds and blocks on me, then I will accept my Lordships." "It would be best if we did a full purge first. While you are being purged, we will begin to gather the required information regarding your accounts as I believe we will discover a lot of fraud in the accounts and I want to be able to confirm any transaction we have which will require us to search the archives. It wouldn't take long." "Two birds one stone." Harry stood up. "Let's get this over with. I have a feeling it won't be pleasant." Ironclaw looked at the Inheritance Test results. "No, I do not believe it will be pleasant given the number of binds and blocks. It will take several hours. Lord Malfoy, perhaps it would be a good idea to have someone join us? Someone who also needs to have an Inheritance Test as well as Severus Snape. It would be an excellent requirement for each of them." "It would be best, Lucius. I have a feeling I am not the only one he has done this to. I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of the muggle-borns or half-bloods didn't realize they have magical relatives and he has taken charge of inheritances. If I wasn't here today, I would never have known and Dumbledore has been pushing me for years to face you know who and gets surprised each time I survive. I know he expects me to walk to my death. He hasn't come out and said it directly but he keeps pushing the idea of me saving everyone as my parents have done. How they sacrificed their lives for me and to save the magical world." Lucius closed his eyes. "He needs a mental health exam." "I know I am not the only one he has done this favorite attitude with. He did it to my fathers and their two friends, including permitting them to get away with attempted murder." Harry sighed deeply. Lucius looked at him. "Severus." Lucius understood what Harry meant. "Yes, Severus. What Dumbledore has done to him should be a chargeable offense." "Let's get this over with." Harry was revamping his plans for Dumbledore. The man was going to die a slow, disgraceful death. Harry was going to make sure no one would ever mention his name. He was aware that he wouldn't be able to go back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore would see the differences and he would do something to him. He wondered if his friends were involved and something clicked. He stopped short. Lucius almost bumped into him. "It's not just Dumbledore." "What do you mean?" Lucius wondered why Harry stopped in the middle of Gringotts. "My friends, I think they are involved. They have to be for him to do everything. He always seemed to know what I was planning or doing. He could have only known that if they provided the information. They obey his every word including their refusal to write me during the summer after the tournament." "A long con game that started decades before you were even born. I believe it includes my lord." Lucius was going to have to research. "Let's get you purged. while you are doing that, I will get our two mutual friends here, the goblins will be gathering information, and we will start to form a plan based on what we learn. Yes, I will make sure you will be involved. I am sure a certain female will want to be involved too." "Oh, I can guarantee she will." Harry wondered how Dumbledore would react to a human version of Nagini. It might be fun to see as he force feeds Dumbledore some muggle-poisoned lemon drops. He liked that idea. "Griphook?" Harry looked at the goblin who was walking them to the purging room. "Yes?" "Is it possible to hire goblins to gather muggle stuff?" "Yes, it is possible. What do you have to trade for our work?" Harry smiled. "I have a few ideas that would make the goblin nation grow with a lot of profits." *Lots of things we can trade for them.* Tom had been pacing. He wasn't worried about going anywhere. He was protected by Harry's magic. Harry's magic kept him safe. Griphook smiled. "I believe we will be opened to trade." Harry thought the goblins might be interested in credit cards, ATMs, and even debit cards for vaults. He had some ideas for retail stores that might be profitable for him with the backing of Lucius, Severus, and the Dark Lord. He had to find a better name for the Dark Lord as he wasn't his lord and the man hated his name. They arrived at the purging chamber and Harry was escorted in by the healers. Harry woke up hours later after he had screamed himself into unconsciousness. He felt like he was hit by a freight train. He was tired and sore, and yet he felt freer than he could remember. His magic, he could feel it. He felt it flowing through him, he felt it in his blood, in his skin, and he closed his eyes, he focused on his magic. He gasped as he saw it. He could see his magic. He owned his eyes and sat up. He held his head as dizziness flooded his mind. "Easy, you need to let everything settle a bit long." The healer reassured him. "You have some very hypervigilant lords waiting to see you." "Yes, figured they would be." Harry opened his eyes and saw realized why he was a bit sore, his clothes were tight and constructing him. He wished he had thought to bring a change of clothes. He gasped as his clothes changed to fit him. He looked at the healer. "Your magic will need to be stabilized and you will find things a bit different until you get used to the changes. According to what I was informed, you had already removed several binds so we aren't sure exactly how much of your magic was bound. We were also informed about the situation regarding the Horcrux and the binds on your personality. I believe most of the binds you broke were personality ones as well as a few minor magical ones." "Is there a way to tell?" "No, since you broke them without realizing it, it would be hard to tell. However, the interesting part is the Horcrux. It has remained." "Good." *Damn skippy I remained. I told you that I would never leave you and I won't." Tommy gave Harry a mental kick in the pants. *Now stop being an idiot. Get everything done and we go after the old fool.* Harry ignored the mental kick and agreed. It was time to start Dumbledore's downfall.

Marinette had just finished buying new fabrics, the material bundled up in her arms when someone rushed into her. The two collided harshly against each other, throwing the both of them onto the ground. Wincing, she rubbed her head as she looked around at the scattered fabrics. Groaning, she stood up, offering a hand to the person who had just bumped into her, “Are you alri-?” The person in front of her was dressed in a bright yellow banana costume. She blinked a few times to clear her vision but the guy in front of her remained the same. A frown marred her face for a second before he spoke in shock, “Marinette?” “Chat Noir?” Marinette responded, her frown deepening before she lifted him up with her still outstretched hand, “Is there an akuma attack? Did you lose your miraculous? What happened?” “No need to worry purrincess. There’s no akuma attacks today,” he practically purred to her annoyed eye-roll before he gave a sheepish chuckle, “Would you believe me if I told you I actually wore this to hide?” Marinette scoffed, pulling away from him to pick up her discarded fabrics, “Hide from who? Is your adoring fan base at it again?” she drolled rather sarcastically. “Actually yes,” Chat chuckled, “Yes, they are.” “You actually have fans?” she turned around, quirking an eyebrow at him playfully. “Aw come on purrincess, you’ll hurt a kitty’s feelings with talk like that.”  She could practically see his pout through the costume and nudged his elbow lightly, “Come on Chat, you know I’m just kidding. I’m the number one fan on that list after all,” Marinette giggled. “Should I be hiding from you as well then?” Chat chuckled back, bumping their shoulders together playfully. Marinette rolled her eyes, “ No ! I actually have experience with this. I once spent an entire day protecting Adrien Agreste from his adoring fanbase,” the dark-haired girl finished proudly. Recalling that day brought back so many happy memories and she almost sighed in front of the superhero before her. Spending the whole day with her crush was amazing even if she was in her pajamas for the entirety of it.  “Is that so? Should I be jealous?” the banana-costumed boy leaned in close to her before she shoved him back harshly, her face flaming. “No!” she spluttered, “It’s not like that!” “Well, how furtunate that I get your services then, purrincess.”  She imagined him winking at her before she scrunched her nose, “You were doing so well without the use of puns. Of course you had to go and ruin a good conversation like that.” “Aw, would mew purrfer if I stopped?” Chat chuckled at her. “Yes, yes, I would,” Marinette couldn’t stop herself from laughing as she shoved him back playfully.  The superhero started to speak, presumably to tell another awful pun when they were interrupted by the sounds of girlish screams. Reacting on instinct, Marinette grabbed his hand, yanking him away from the source of the noise. Huffing and puffing, they tore through the streets of Paris, trying to avoid drawing more attention to them. Eventually, she managed to drag him into a quiet alley she usually got away with detransforming in. Panting slightly, she leaned out of the alley, looking for any sign of the fangirls, “I think we lost them.” “I think so too,” he sucked in a deep breath of air. “I’m starting to think that maybe the banana costume wasn’t the best choice for staying hidden in broad daylight,” Marinette grinned up at him, her fingers itching to flick the bell that was usually on her partner. “Me too,” he beamed back down at her. “Seriously, why a banana costume?! That cannot be easy to move around in,” she tilted her head at him curiously. “Ehh,” Chat shrugged, “It was the closest costume around.” She opened her mouth to tell him off when another girlish squeal cut her off. Her head jerked to the side to see a teenage girl pointing at the two of them, “Oh my god, Adrien and his girlfriend are on a date again!!” “Wha-,” Marinette felt her brow furrow before she flicked her gaze over to the boy next to her. Her eyes widened considerably as her face paled. No... it-it can’t be... Before she had time to panic properly, Adrien had already grabbed onto her hand, pulling her out of the alley with him. They bolted straight past the startled girl, ignoring the screeches behind them. Her thoughts were a mess as she ran with the boy in front of her. How is this possible?! It was never supposed to happen like this! We were supposed to defeat Hawkmoth first! Eventually, they ran out of breath, finally finding a nice, quiet place away from the fangirls. With a spluttered cough, Marinette stumbled away from him, tugging harshly on her pigtails, “I, you-you can’t... A-Adrien?” “Marinette, you can’t tell anyone,” he came forward to grasp her hands tightly in his, “Seriously, Ladybug will kill me if she finds out I revealed my identity to a civilian !” She blinked a few times at his face. Unfortunately though, she was unable to contain her hysterical laughter. Slapping a hand to her face, she giggled manically, “H-how am I supposed to take you seriously when you-you look like that,” Marinette snuck out in between breaths, waving a hand at his banana costume. Adrien’s hands came to plant firmly on his hips and she imagined the stern look on his face but that did nothing to stop her giggles. Sucking in a gasp of breath, she managed to calm herself down and looked at him seriously when he let out a snicker himself. Soon the two collapsed on each other, laughing their heads off.  When they finally regained their breath, Marinette wiped a stray tear from her eye, “Sorry about that. I don’t know what just came over me. I promise to keep your secret though, even from Ladybug,” she couldn’t help the small smile that twitched at her lips. “Thank you, Marinette,” his banana costumed head bobbed at her thankfully, and she barely managed to bite back her snicker.  “It’s fine, Adrien,” she smiled shyly at him, “You already know about my own secret anyway,” she gestured to her bare neck, hoping that he would remember her time as Multimouse. “That’s right!” she practically envisioned his green eyes glimmering at her, “You were Multimouse, right?” “That’s me!” Marinette chirped with a giggle before she glanced about them, “I think we should get you out of that costume soon, though. We don’t want to have to run again and everyone already knows that you’re the one in the banana costume.” “You’re probably right,” Adrien chuckled at her before he reached around to unzip his costume. Soon, his cute, blonde head popped up at her, his hair matted to his forehead as he grinned brightly at her. She stared at him in awe for a few minutes before shaking her head roughly.  This is still Chat Noir! You can’t go around acting all crazy around him now! And someday, when it’s time, I’ll finally be able to reveal that I’m Ladybug. Pushing away her thoughts, Marinette intertwined their arms with a smile, “Come on, let’s see if we can get you home without any more mishaps.” “Lead the way, purrincess,” Adrien purred at her. Ignoring the swoop her heart just gave at Adrien giving her a pet name, she instead rolled her eyes, tugging him along with her, “I’ll kill you if you start punning at me in class.” Adrien threw his head back as he laughed, and her lips twitched into a smile as she watched him. Everything’s going to be alright. I’ll make sure of it, she thought to herself with one last final nod.

You thought the day would never end but here you are, finally out of work and heading home through the streets of London. Your feet hurt and you can't wait to get rid of your bra, put on some sweatpants and chill on your couch. But first thing first, you need to walk a good 20 minutes to where you live.   It's late and the area you're going through is quite calm with just a few people in the street at the moment. You love to just listen to the city noises, imagine people's lives when you get glimpses of them through the windows. It makes the time go by as you walk.   The guy strolling in front of you for example. He seems to be quite agitated, talking angrily on his phone and advancing rapidly to the crossroads. With whom is he fighting ? What about ? You don't know but you start and imagine all that, just for fun. Then, you hear a loud car noise and realise two things at once. First, it's coming rapidly to the road the stranger is about to cross and second, he's so engrossed in his phone conversation that he hasn't even realised it.   It all happens in a blink. You rush to the guy shouting at him to 'Watch out !' at the same time as you jerk him backward by the collar of his jacket. Thrown off balance by this sudden movement, you both fall on the pavement as the car speeds like a rocket in front of you.   - "Are you OK ?" You ask the guy as you try to catch your breath.   His cap has fallen to the ground and he looks at you in shock. His phone is lying next to him on the ground and the screen is broken.   - "You...you saved my life. I..." He stutters, still shaken by what just happened. - "Well, I couldn't let you get run over by a car. You seemed pretty preoccupied by your phone conversation and I just acted on a whim. Sorry for your phone though..." You reply. - "It's nothing, just equipment." He says starting to get up already and offering his hand to help you too. "Can I use yours quickly though ? To call back the person I was talking to ? They must be quite worried so..." He looks embarrassed to ask for this. - "Of course, no problem ! God, they must be so anxious, here, take my phone." You rush to say, thrusting it to him. "Do you want to sit down for a while maybe, let the shock wear off ?" You suggest, gesturing to a nearby bench.   He nods in response and dials a number while you walk to the bench. As he talks to whomever he was on the phone with before, you think to yourself that your quiet walk home turned into quite an adventure tonight.   As soon as he's done, he hands you the phone back with a smile.   - "Thanks again... I didn't even ask for your name, I'm sorry." - "Oh it's Y/N and again, no problem. You must have been quite shaken by what happened." You answer quickly. - "Yeah I still am if I'm being honest. And I'm Taron by the way." He adds, giving you his hand to shake.   His face is still pretty white but he seems to feel better already.   - "You know what, I think you could use a drink right now. Something strong." You suggest there and then.   He seems surprised but smiles again and agrees to go to a nearby pub. Once there, you order two shots of whisky and two pints, that he insists on paying, before settling in in a booth.   - "Cheers !" You both say clinking your glasses before drinking the shots in one go . - "To my savior, my knight in shining armor !" Adds Taron   You both laugh and his cheeks regain more color after that. You start to talk about a bit of everything while you sip on your pints. He tells you that he's an actor and you can totally believe him as you watch his chiseled jaw move while he talks. You joke about asking him for an autograph even if you've never seen him in any movie, just in case he becomes famous and he genuinely laughs at that.   When the bartender announces that the pub will be closing in a few minutes, you both look at your watches in surprise. Time went by so fast that you didn't even realise it.   - "I guess this is goodbye then. I spend a wonderful evening with you Y/N. Well, except for the part when I nearly died but this one was all on me so..." He jokes as you exit the pub. - "Likewise, it was a pleasure saving you, Taron. And the part after that was not a pain in the ass either !" You add with a wink. - "You were joking about getting an autograph earlier so I signed you one while you were in the bathroom earlier. Just in case, you know, I become famous one day or something." He announces, handing you a piece of folded paper. - "Nice one Taron !" You reply laughing. "I’ll frame it next to my bed in remembrance of the day I was a hero. And maybe I'll see you again in a movie someday."   And then, you wave each other goodbye and go your separate ways home. Once there, and after you're all ready for bed, you remember the piece of paper and pull it out of your bag. Not only has he signed it but he's also put his phone number there with a small note saying "Care to give me yours, if I ever need saving again ?" You squeal and trash in your bed before regaining enough composure to text him an answer "Here you go 07876218761 In case of emergencies only;) "   As you turn off the light to finally try and sleep, you think to yourself that you could totally picture becoming Taron's bodyguard if he needed one. An up-close-and-personal bodyguard that is...

        “Virgil? You up? It’s like, almost noon.” Patton tapped on his door. He peeked his head in.         Virgil hissed at him, feeling horrible. He must have taken too much of a dosage last night. He threw the covers over his head.         “Now grumpy pants, that's no way to treat me,” Patton stepped into his room, determined to get this over with quick. He grabbed the blanket on his bed, and yanked. Virgil went flying out of bed, landing on the floor.         “Ok, ok, I'm up, I'm up. Gosh.” Virgil looked up at Patton.         “I'm sorry, did I hurt you? Please tell me I didn't hurt you.” A thin layer of black started to appear around Patton’s eyes. Virgil sighed.         “I'm fine, now get out of my room.” Virgil tried to stand up, but the pain fired through his system, leaving him on the ground. He felt like crying from the pain.         ‘It’s worth it.”         Patton left the room. “Come on, you can't just lay there all day, we have things to do.”         “Fine. I’ll be up in a second.” Virgil groaned and slowly pushed himself up, struggling. He hissed under his breath.         With difficulty, He made it to the kitchen for breakfast. Logan was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee. He seemed to be reading some astronomy for the umpteenth time again.         “Nice to join us in the land of the living Virgil.” Logan said, glancing up at him.         “Ha! Dad joke!” Patton exclaimed, looking over at Logan.         “Not. Intentionally.” Logan sipped his coffee again and stared off into nothingness.         Virgil didn’t say anything, and he grabbed a plate with eggs and other breakfast foods on it. He tried to walk normally over to his place at the table. “Um, where’s Roman?”         “He was up earlier, said something about needing to ‘slay some demons’ I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Patton joyously drank his tea.         “Yeah, me too.” Virgil suddenly didn’t feel hungry. He pushed the plate away from him. Demons.         “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be ok!” Deceit popped up out of nowhere and smiled evilly.         “Go away you,” Logan paused, looking through his flashcards, “slimy boi.” Patton was set off by this, going into a full on laughing attack. “But seriously, get out.”         “Ok, I won’t.” Deceit sunk down into the floor.         Virgil kept staring at the plate of eggs in front of him. Worry filled his stomach. He tried to convince himself that Roman would be fine, that he had never been seriously hurt before, and that it would not be any different this time. Or, ‘seriously hurt’ in the fact that he wasn’t dead.         “Why does deceit do that? I’ll never quite understand.” Logan looked at where Deceit sunk down, not confused but not getting the reasoning either.         “He’s a liar, he lies. It’s just what Deceit does.” Virgil felt himself explaining, though he wasn’t really paying attention.         “Yeah, but we all lie, don’t we? It’s not just him.” Logan said, sipping his coffee.         Virgil and Patton stared at Logan, their faces red. Logan sipped at his coffee again. “It’s not like I myself lie, but I just know about the rest of you.”         “I don’t lie! Lying is wrong!” Patton gasped, his eyes shocked. “And I don’t think any of you would lie, right?”         Virgil felt himself turn red. He looked over to Logan, who was staring at Patton. “Listen Patton, if you would like all of us to… ‘spill’ all of our secrets some night, then maybe you should talk to all of us. Including Roman.”         Roman. Virgil stood up in an instant. Logan and Patton looked over at him. Patton tilted his head.         “You leaving so soon kiddo? You haven’t even touched your breakfast.” Patton asked.         “Um, yeah, I just got some, uh, things I have to do.” Virgil quickly turned and walked down the hallway to his room.         ‘You can’t stop the inevitable. Roman’s doomed.’         Virgil walked into his room, looking for something “You’re wrong. Roman is strong and brave, he’ll be fine.”         ‘And stupid. Anyway, if you trust that he’ll be fine, then why are you looking for something?’                 “It’s just a bit of extra insurance.” Virgil pulled a dagger out of his sock drawer. It was a dark silver with intricate detailing of black swirls. A shine of purple reflected light onto his face.         ‘Seriously, you think you can protect Roman? You’ll just both get killed in the process, and then everyone will find you who you really are.’         “Shut up. It’s just going to be one time.” Virgil slid his full black hoodie on, and throw the hood over his face. “This is just a one-time thing. One check, just to see what exactly he does, and then we’ll be done.”         ‘Put on your slit hoodie.’         “What? Why?” Virgil stood by his door, confused.         ‘Just trust me.’         Virgil scrunched up his face, but followed orders. The slits in his hoodie were for his wings, just to make sure he wouldn’t rip anything. He looked at himself in the mirror.         ‘Perfectly inconspicuous.’         Virgil sighed and sulked out his door. A light switch at the end of the hall would turn out all the lights for the commons. He knew turning it off wouldn’t have any effect on Thomas. He flipped the switch.         “Ahhhhhhhhh! Oh my god Logan! Why are the lights off?!” Virgil heard Patton scream as he sprinted towards Roman’s room. The dark kinda freaked him out, but he was used to it.         “Thomas is probably spacing out again, I’ll go fix it.” Logan’s footsteps walked down a hall.         Virgil made it to Roman’s door, and pushed it open. The bright golden lights almost blinded him. He quickly shut the door.         The room was completely silent. No water running, no movie playing on the tv, none of Roman’s singing. No sound except Virgil’s heartbeat.         Virgil brandished his dagger and opened Roman’s closet. He was glad to see Roman hadn’t moved the portal.         “Well, now or never.” He closed his eyes and stepped through the portal.

paintingwithtaels: so whos going first   hoesuccsdicc: ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME MEME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME    ridejimin: cheeky meme in there, i like that   junglecock: author u bitch u just wanted to occupy more lines didn’t you?   pinkbiatch: wat   junglecock: nvm lets just carry on   junglecock: hobs go first   junglecock: and make it short   hoesuccsdicc is typing...   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: Please, not another essay.   pinkbiatch: i’ll just go instead   pinkbiatch: name’s kim seokjin, 25, uni graduate and currently a prostitute/stripper   pinkbiatch: but like lets say im an exotic dancer because its classy   yoongayaf: hmu with the club name   hoesuccsdicc is typing...   pinkbiatch: never   paintingswithtaels: woah u can dance   pinkbiatch: no i can just slut drop   junglecock: cue the receipts   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: um wow   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: this is beautiful   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: i have seen god   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: daddy   ridejimin: OMfG YEASTY BIHTC FORGOT TO CAPITALIZE   junglecock: THIS IS THE FIRST TIME HE’S EVER NOT CAPITALIZD I SWEARHE ALWAYS DOES   pinkbiatch: i am so flattered.   ridejimin: Whipped™   hoesuccsdicc is typing...   paintingswithtaels: ew   paintingswithtaels: he said daddy   yoongayaf: ummmMM whats wrong with that   paintingswithtaels: i hate that. like imagine if it went both ways   paintingswithtaels: “your so hot i wanna make you my child”   junglecock: now that you say it like that, that's disgusting   pinkbiatch: well ppl do call their SOs baby sooooooooooooo   paintingwithtaels: omg.   junglecock: yoongayaf: who that boy   yoongayaf: he cute af   yoongay: babyboy   yoongayaf: jungkook who is he?? TELL ME I NEED TO KNOW THIS MUNCHKIN   ridejimin: ………………   ridejimin: …………………….   ridejimin: ……………………………………   yoongayaf: what now   ridejimin: that would be me.   yoongayaf: liar.   ridejimin: not lying. i can prove it   ridejimin: heres a selfie yoongayaf: how do u delet msgs here?   ridejimin: you cant.   yoongayaf: fuck.   junglecock: OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HYUNG HAS A CRUSH THIS IS AMAZING AIFOIJIFJIOVJNIOFSNOI’NFIOFNIOFN SO CUTE   yoongayaf: shut up   hoesuccsdicc is (still) typing...   paintingswithtaels: OMFG THEY ARE SO CUTE I FUCKING CANT U CUTIES GET MARRIED ALREADY   yoongayaf: I SAID SHUT UP   pinkbiatch: GAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY FUCK NOW PLS AND RECORD IT TOO I WANT FOOTAGE   yoongayaf: U LIL FUCKERS I STG IM NO SON OF MY MAMA IF I DONT KILL YALL   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: I ship it.   yoongayaf: what did u just say?   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: Nothing.   yoongayaf has saved the media file sent by ridejimin…   yoongayaf: wait what no why does it say that   yoongayaf: MISCLICK I STG I DIDNT SAVE IT ON PURPOSE   paintingswithtaels: HE SAVED THE PIC NEXT THING U KNOW ITS GONNA BE HIS LOCKSCREEN I CANT WITH THESE TWO KOOK BABY LOOK AT THIS   junglecock: I AM BABE   junglecock: yoongi hyung way to make ur crush so obvious   yoongayaf: says the guy who just called his alleged friend babe   paintingswithtaels: we are just friends jeez why does everyone misinterpret it   junglecock: yeah. just friends man.   pinkbiatch: AYO RIDE DUDE U HAVE AN ADMIRER WHO THINKS UR ADORABLE   ridejimin: u creep   yoongayaf: IM NOT CREEPY I SWEAR IT HAPPENED ON ITS OWN   junglecock: hOBI HYUN LOOK AT THIS   junglecock: hobi hyung?   junglecock: where did he go?   hoesuccsdicc: hey guys! my name is Jung Hoseok but you can call me hobi ^-^ ! i’m probably one of the funniest guys you will ever meet. Trust me, i’m hilarious. i’m 23, my birthday is on the 18th of feb so im am aquarius. my current hair colour is orange because i wanted a hair colour that represented me so i chose orange because ua know im a fucking ray of sunshine. i’m currently majoring in dance. its my passion and honestly, i couldnt imagine going a day without doing it. just feeling the rhythm and getting into the music and letting your body lose to its own intentions gives a feeling beyond comparison. i do rap as well, a hobby (or hobi) that yoongi hyung who you guys might know as yoongayaf helped me discover. He’s my BFF FOR LYFFFFFFFF I LOVE HIM. so my celeb crush is g dragon because he’s an actual fucking daddy yes jiyong pls my assjole is open wide for you. anyways im from gwangju and my fam consists of my parents and my sister. i rly love my parents you know they're so sweet and supportive of me and they keep me going thru all the hardships i encounter. sis is cool too. other hobbies of mine include the occasional sport. i like tennis. tennis is cool. i once got third place in a championship!!!! my fav food is sprite and my fav colour is green and my fav number is 7. i was once upon a time a part of this rly cool dance group called neuron but sadly enough we broke apart because one guy got to ambitious.   link to my youtube channel: https://www.youtube.com/Hope-On-The-Street link to my mixtape: https://www.soundcloud.com/J-Hope/1-Verse-Saved-My-Fucking-Life-This-Is-Not-An-Actual-Link- But-Don’t-You-Fucking-Wish-It-Was// ig: @hobsbobs tumblr: @brightsunshine   now you know me better yay!   seen by junglecock, paintingswithtaels, ridejimin, yoongayaf, pinkbiatch and I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know at 19: 48   hoesuccsdicc: gUYS WTF CMON   Today, 20:31   ridejimin: waddup im here who’s online   yoongayaf: ew why are you here   ridejimin: stfu u find me adorable   yoongayaf: no i dont   ridejimin: scroll up bitch u think i forgot?   yoongayaf: lets just forget it ever happened yeah?   ridejimin: how abouttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt no   yoongayaf: kys   paintingswithtaels: u cuties   ridejimin: im the only cute one   junglecock: tru   yoongayaf: what   junglecock: HYUNG I WAS JUST KIDDING HAHAHAHAHAHAHA pls dont kill me   yoongayaf: okay then :)   ridejimin: why are y’all so scared of him   junglecock: hyung is scary af   hoesuccsdicc: i live with him and i once saw him raging at a game and i fucking pissed my pants he's so terrifying   junglecock: ive only ever seen him smiling in emojis   hoesuccsdicc: off topic   hoesuccsdicc: but why havent none of y’all said anything about my intro   pinkbiatc: probs cuz none of us have gotten to reading it yet   hoesuccsdicc: why not   ridejimin: maybe cuz its so fucking long   ridejimin: as long as my dick   yoongayaf: last time i checked it was an essay and not 3 words long   ridejimin: honestly fuck you man   yoongayaf: fuck you? no thanks   ridejimin: you would tho   hoesuccsdicc: tsundere love   hoesuccsdicc: sometimes beautiful   hoesuccsdicc: sometimes so fucking annoying   pinkbiatch: you both would have the best angry sex   junglecock: seconded   ridejimin: why am i here again   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: Hey Hoseok. So I read your essay about yourself and you sound like someone I would get along with very well! And damn, a mixtape, that’s fucking cool.   hoesuccsdicc: aww thanks dude! you are literally the only one i like here   pinkbiatch: can u slut drop   hoesuccsdicc: yes but not as good as u tho ;)   pinkbiatch: love the kid   pinkbiatch: i approve   pinkbiatch: you can be on my list of people i dont hate   hoesuccsdicc: i cri a single tear in honour   paintingswithtaels: you seem cool hobi :) we can try being friends   hoesuccsdicc: thanks for giving a chance babieee   yoongayaf: that tennis competition he was talking about? yeah there were only three teams   hoesucsducc: did u have to   pinkbiatch: unfriended   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: For a second I genuinely thought you were talented. Turns out you’re a loser.   paintingswithtaels: remember when i called you cool? yeah i take that back   hoesuccsdicc: YOONGI HYUNG WHY   junglecock: guys cmon cut him some slack   hoesuccsdicc: thank you finally someone who understands me   junglecock: we need to understand that losers like him have to coexist with kool kidz us so that we can outshine them   hoesuccsdicc: can i die   ridejimin: Woah a mixtape!! u cool dude   hoesuccsdicc: u r the only one who thinks im cool i love you so much i will do whatever u want   ridejimin: im too lazy to click on the link tho send it here?   hoesuccsdicc: ofc bby here you go   hoesuccsdicc has sent 9 mp3 files…   ridejimin: this is actually pretty fucking cool   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: Hobi you’re music is fucking good. We have to collaborate sometimes.   hoesuccsdicc: you do music too?   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: Yup. Wanna hear some of my work?   hoesuccsdicc: yes pls   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know has sent 15 mp3 files…   hoesuccsdicc: THIS SHIT IS LITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT   yoongayaf: i love the lyrical content   yoongayaf: your beats go perfectly with the vibe of the song   pinkbiatch: fuck ur voice send moan audios pls i could fap all day to this shit wowoowoow gimme more   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: Why moan audios when you could listen to it live?   ridejimin: bitch am i smelling some friends with benefits shit   pinkbiatch: SEND ADDRESS NOW   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: Only if you send nudes.   pinkbiatch: HAVE ME BITCH   junglecock: woah since when did joon hyung gets so smoooooooth   yoongayaf: nah but srsly   yoongayaf: u are good nerd   yoongayaf: we have to make some stuff together   yoongayaf: all 3 of us   hoesuccsdicc: YAY HIP HOP SLUMBER PARTY   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: How are you the same person as the guy in your mixtape?   paintingswithtaels: aww u cutie hobi   hoesuccsdicc: love you toooooo   junglecock: say wot   ridejimin: “bite everyone so they wont forget it” he said   authornim has joined the chatroom   authornim: guys continue with the intros and stop getting sidetracked   junglecock: who tf are u i didnt add u   authornim: pce   authornim has left the chatroom   pinkbiatch: they are right let's continue   junglecock: is no one srsly gonna question the fact that someone just joined and exited   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: Should I introduce myself?   hoesuccsdicc: go for it   junglecock: apparently not, we're all being brainwashed   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: Hey guys! Kim Namjoon here. I’m currently at Seoul University pursuing a career in Biotech Engineering. I’m in my second year. I’m 23 years old and my birthday’s on the September 12. My hobbies include rapping, reading, researching, writing poems and being Kim Seokjin’s bitch.   pinkbiatch: honestly we are the only stable relationship here   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: True   paintingswithtaels: OTP   junglecock: bubble what about yoonmin   paintingswithtaels: o yeah whoops u guys are my second fav   ridejimin: can u guys be my dads   hoesuccsdicc: namjin shall be ur ship name   yoongayaf: nah titanic   yoongayaf: because its gonna sink pretty soon   pinkbiatch: woah.   I Would Put My Real Name Here But You Could All Be Serial Killers For All I Know: Dude, jeez, we were just joking around. You don’t have to be so harsh.   paintingswithtaels: that's kinda mean yknow…   junglecock: too far hyung too far   ridejimin: HAHAHAHAHA GOOD ONE BRUH   hoesuccsdicc: these fuckers i stg   hoesuccsdicc: u both are so insensitive   ridejimin: it was kinda funny…   yoongayaf: ikr   yoongayaf: still hate u tho   junglecock: still find u cute tho*   yoongayaf: this will stay with me until the day i die

“Aww, aren’t you two cute?” Mycroft throws a glare over his shoulder at the newcomer and Gregory chuckles amusedly. “That bad, huh?” his fake fiancé asks, perching himself on the couch armrest, watching as Sherlock snores softly against Mycroft’s shoulder. The movie was so terribly boring Mycroft must have dozed off at some point, since he doesn’t actually remember his brother falling asleep on him. “Apparently so,” Mycroft murmurs. “Now I can’t move without risking waking him up. He sleeps entirely too little, you know?” “I’ve heard him pacing around the flat in the middle of the night, yes,” Gregory agrees, a fond smile on his lips. “Gave me a right fright the first time around.” Mycroft huffs and his companion turns his attention to him and Mycroft can feel his insides melting with affection. “Here, let me help you.” “He’s heavier than he looks,” Mycroft warns, but Gregory somehow manages to pick up his brother with little effort. Sherlock makes a soft protesting sound, making both adults freeze, but then he curls in Gregory’s arms, still fast asleep. His companion smiles briefly before heading in the direction of Sherlock’s bedroom. His little brother would be horrified at learning just how many times he’s been carried around lately, but Mycroft couldn’t bring himself to wake him up. He does sleep too little and teens need lots and lots of sleep, don’t they? He stands up, stretching out. His arm hurts a little, his brother’s weight having caused it to fall asleep, but he supposes he’ll live. “Are you hungry?” Gregory asks, having come back into the living room, a soft fond smile on his lips. “I was thinking pasta.” Mycroft shrugs non committedly. “Your usual order?” “I was actually thinking of making it,” Gregory says, much to his surprise. “I promise I can actually make a decent pasta,” he adds after a beat, probably recalling the cookies he made just the day before. Mycroft hums. “I suppose I can give you the benefit of the doubt,” he says with a smile and Gregory chuckles. If asked, Mycroft would have never pictured himself as the kind of person who enjoys domesticity. And yet--     “So, I was thinking… do you have any plans for Sherlock’s birthday?” Mycroft doesn’t answer right away. He has an idea of where this conversation is heading and he’s not entirely sure he wants to have it, although he supposes… “Not really. We didn’t… it’s not something we used to celebrate at home.” Gregory hums thoughtfully, still stirring the pasta sauce, his back at Mycroft. His posture is deliberately relaxed, but it’s clear as water he’s preparing himself for a conversation. “Well, I suppose we could just get him a cake. It’s just… I’m a bit reluctant to let it go unnoticed, all things considered.” He looks over his shoulder, a small smile on his lips and Mycroft bites his lip. “That’s probably a good idea, although I have the slight suspicion Sherlock would be much happier if we just let him run wild in London with Mr. Watson in tow. Not that that’s very wise, but I’m hopeful they won’t cause too much trouble.” “ Let him run wild, ” Gregory repeats, a light chuckle escaping him. “He’ll probably enjoy that. I remember when I was 14, I wasn’t exactly keen on spending time with my folks.” He huffs, shaking his head amusedly. “Good god, when did I get this old?” Mycroft rolls his eyes good naturedly. “I don’t think either of us is particularly old,” he argues with a small shrug. “But Sherlock would probably prefer to spend the day with someone around his age. Besides, isn’t that another use for friends ?” “To keep you entertained on your birthday?” Gregory asks, tone light. “I suppose.” He finally serves dinner, turning to face Mycroft. “So I suppose that’s settled. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get into too much trouble.” “Well, London still stands after letting him spend the night at Mr. Watson’s, so I suppose it won’t be too terrible,” he says, smiling softly. “How was work, by the way?” Gregory throws him a look and Mycroft tries (and fails) to pretend innocence. “Nice attempt to deflect, but you know what I want to discuss.” Mycroft sighs. “Is this about the dog?” “Yes,” his companion states, placing a plate in front of him and going to pour them both some wine. “You seem quite reluctant. Not that I blame you exactly, because we do have little time and not a lot of space and you’re quite… picky about your clothes and you probably don’t want dog hair in them.” Mycroft makes a face, thinking that that’s something he definitely doesn’t want. “But I can’t help thinking there’s a bigger reason for your reluctance.” Mycroft sighs, rubbing his temples tiredly. “I should have known better than to get engaged to a detective,” he murmurs sulkily, earning himself a wide grin from his companion. “I got Sherlock a dog for his fifth birthday,” he confesses finally, dropping his eyes to his plate since he doesn’t really want to see Gregory’s expression when he finishes his tale. “He-- it was the smallest ball of fluff, really. Sherlock adored him-- it , right away but my parents weren’t exactly happy about the development. Dogs, specially pups, need a lot of care and they tend to be… mischievous when they’re young.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to distract himself from the unpleasant memory. “Sherlock cried and pleaded, but it was no use once Mummy made up her mind and I was at college, so I didn’t find out until much later and by then it was too late, naturally. I don’t… I don’t think he actually remembers it? Mummy destroyed the few photos there were and he was very young so maybe…” he shrugs. “It wasn’t very pleasant, though. I think that’s one of the biggest arguments I ever had with Mummy, I mean-- it was a pup! He didn’t-- it wasn’t-- god, what kind of monster--” he interrupts himself sharply, biting his lip. He’s getting too overemotional, over a bloody dog, goddammit. You’re being ridiculous, dear. Not even your brother got this emotional and he’s five. “Mycroft,” Gregory is at his side now, holding his hands in his, eyes infinitely sad. There’s no pity in them, just honest grief and perhaps some anger and Mycroft realizes just how tense he’s gone, so he forces himself to relax. “I’m sorry,” his companion murmurs, drawing circles over his knuckles with his thumbs. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, honest, earnest and Mycroft wonders, not for the first time, what he did to deserve this wonderful man’s friendship. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” he says finally. “I-- It’s not a pleasant subject to recall.” “I imagine,” Gregory says softly. “Before my parents got Max, we used to have a little cocker spaniel named Cookie. I cried for weeks after she passed away,” he tells him squeezing his hands. “There’s no shame in loving a pet.” He supposes there isn’t. But-- “I barely… I left for school two days after gifting Redbeard to Sherlock, it shouldn’t--” “Mycroft,” his companion interrupts once more. His gaze is kind and full of understanding and Mycroft sighs, looking away. “I feel guilty,” Mycroft confesses softly, reluctantly. “It wasn’t your fault,” Gregory insists and Mycroft figures they can argue the subject all night long and they’ll still get nowhere. “Perhaps we should look for another gift. How about some dangerous chemicals? I’m sure Sherlock would love those.” Mycroft can’t help the soft laugh that escapes him and Gregory grins, pleased. “He probably would, but it’s probably all kinds of unwise.” He squeezes his companion’s hand, relishing the warmth of it, ignoring the acrobatics his heart is engaging into. “The dog is probably a better idea, but perhaps something not very big?” “I’m onto it,” Gregory declares solemnly, squeezing his hand once more before letting go and taking his seat at the other side of the table. He offers him a smile and Mycroft smiles too; Gregory’s smiles never fail to make him feel much better. “This is actually good,” he says after a while, having finally tasted the pasta. “I didn’t have much hopes after the cookies incident, but this is actually very tasty.” “You have so little faith in me,” Gregory says dramatically, pretending hurt, and Mycroft rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. It seems so natural. Why can’t it last?   Work is, rather predictably, hellish. Mycroft rarely takes days off and when he does, he usually comes back to one national crisis or another, so he’s not surprised to see the mess things have turned into in his absence. A part of him had wanted to stay home, spend Sherlock’s birthday with him, but his little brother had school to attend in the morning and apparently he and Mr. Watson already had plans for the afternoon, so he had supposed it was for the bes that he went to work. Gregory had offered to go find Sherlock his gift and while Mycroft is still unsure about the wiseness of the decision, he had thought it’d be for the best. He supposes there’s a part of him that will never quite forgive himself for what happened to Redbeard and he’s not exactly thrilled at the prospect of acquiring a new dog, but his brother had seemed ridiculously happy at the idea, so… There’s very little he wouldn’t do for his baby brother. Isn’t that what got him in this little perfect hell of his?     “That’s not a small dog,” Mycroft says as the giant ball of fluff approaches him. He’s not terribly familiar with dog’s breeds, but he does know this must be one of those giants ones, mostly all grown up. That’s not, by far, what they agreed on. “Hey, you’re home!” Gregory says, coming into his line of sight with a sheepish smile on his lips. “I was just about to drive John home, but I didn’t want to leave Blackbeard alone and Sherlock is having a hard time trying to decide--” “This isn’t what we agreed on,” Mycroft interrupts as he attempts to fend of the giant dog, that’s standing on its hind paws, attempting to lick Mycroft’s face in greeting. “Ah, yes, that. Well, you see, I went to the shelter, asked around for a friendly fellow, good with kids and it turns out NewfoundlandS are terribly good with children. And he’s named Blackbeard, so I thought it was really a sign from above and well… here we are! Isn’t he the cutest?” Mycroft throws him an unimpressed look and his fake fiancé smiles charmingly, the kind of smile that usually makes Mycroft go weak on his knees and agree to practically anything, but this-- “Blackbeard, down!” Sherlock orders, finally showing up and the dog hurries to obey, barking happily once before leaving Mycroft’s side to go to Sherlock, wagging its tail happily. “Sit,” his brother orders and the dog does, still wagging its tail. “He’s already trained,” Sherlock says, turning his attention to Mycroft, his best puppy eyes already turn on him. “Can we keep him?” Oh, bloody hell. Between his brother and his fake fiancé, they’re going to kill him. He pinches the bridge of his nose, attempting to fight off his incoming headache. “Of course we can,” he agrees finally and listens as his companions cheer, Blackbeard joining them with loud barks. “But we’re going to need to move somewhere else.” Gregory smiles at him, having come to stand by his side and he squeezes his arm affectionately. Mycroft finds himself leaning into the touch, watching as his brother and young Mr. Watson celebrate, Blackbeard barking and jumping around them. Mycroft makes a quick mental inventory of all the things the dog can break, his huge size not terribly compatible with living in a flat and he makes a mental note to put away anything too valuable. He does seem docile enough and the fact that he’s almost an adult already should probably help with any behaviour issues. He turns to look at his fiancé, who’s also watching the teens with a fond look and Mycroft sighs, thinking this love business is really bothersome; he suddenly understands much better why attachments are so heavily discouraged in his line of work. But there’s nothing to be done about it now, is there?  

David walked passed the couch, hurrying for his cell phone that he’d left in his room. As he passed, Max let out a snarky laugh and pointed at something on the television. He gave a fond smile to the boy as he went. His phone was lit up with an icon of Gwen’s unimpressed face in the middle. “Go~~~od morning Gwen! How have you been?” He sang as he answered. “Hey David. Actually kinda weird?” She admitted. He walked out of his room, leaning against the doorway to the lounge room to check in on Max. Gwen kept talking in his ear. “Some ‘Unknown Number’ has been prank calling me at, like, 9 or 10 at night? Super annoying but also weird? I mean, who does that at 9 at night? I’m not even asleep by then.” “Oh, Gwen! I’m sorry someone’s been bugging you like that.” “Eh, it’s just annoying is all. Besides, it’s only been happening for, like, a day or two?” David’s brow creased and he looked from the television to Max. “Gwen, what was the number that’s been calling you?” “I told you - it’s an Unknown-” “Oh, I mean the literal number.” “Oh, yeah, duh, right. Hang on.” David heard a few beeps from his end before Gwen returned to recite the number. Just as David suspected, he recognised it. He walked up to the couch, using his free hand to ruffle Max’s hair. “Oh that wasn’t a prank caller! Maxie just wanted to talk to you!”  Gwen questioned; “What? Did he steal your phone or something?” “Oh! No, I bought him a phone. I thought... The independence would be good for him. Oh! Was that okay to give him your number?” Max had squirmed around after fending off David’s hand and had now moved on to trying to leave the lounge room, one eye on the phone in the man’s other hand and looking partially horrified at it. “Oh yeah, that’s okay. Good for him to have contacts, I guess?” Gwen reassured. Putting his mouth away from the receiver, he asked, “Did you want to talk to Gwen, Max?” “What? No! Why the fuck would I want to talk to that loser?” Max interrupted with a shout, trying to squirm out of the sudden grip David had on his hoodie. He crossed his arms defiantly but still both of them could hear Gwen laughing through the line. She shouted through the phone, clearly talking to Max instead of David. “Then why did you call me last night, ya dweeb?! Come on ya little-” her voice lowered in volume, “David, put Max on. If he wants to talk, then we can talk.” “Ha ha, sounds peachy!” David passed the phone off and Max reluctantly took it. With a heavy sigh he greeted her; “Hey, Gwen.” “Quit crank calling me, ya little shit.” “I was butt dialling you!” On her side of town, Gwen laughed at his defiance. “Sure you were, gremlin. Okay, come on then. How’ve you been enjoying hanging with David twenty-four seven? I’m surprised you haven’t made good on murdering him yet.” “It’s… been marginally better than Camp Campbell. So I’m holding off on murder. For now.” “Woah, that’s practically a compliment from you. Geez, he’s still in that dingy apartment, isn’t he?” “Yeah, but I get the T.V. to myself so that’s cool, I guess.” “Nice. And how are you settling in? After, ah…” She heard Max adjust and his next words came through more quietly. “It’s okay. I’m just not giving them the time of day, not thinking about it. I already knew they didn’t care. So, I’m moving on. Should’ve done this ages ago.” Gwen hummed in agreement. It was strange, she thought, but something about learning that Max’s parents had literally abandoned him… It made her want to be there for him more. Like learning that he didn’t have his parents there for him somehow gave her permission to actually give a damn about the kid - beyond what she needed to do professionally. “Yeah, fuck those guys! You’re way better than that, Max.” There was a pause. “Are you okay, Gwen? You sound… You sound like David.” “What? You mean happy? I can be happy. I’m not working for Campbell anymore, after all.” “Yeah but,” Another pause, and even quieter came his voice; “Why do you care how I’m going? I’m David’s problem now, not yours. I’m not a camper anymore. This isn’t your job.” She felt a pang in her chest. The kind of life this kid had been put through… “Max,” she started, heartfelt, “You’re right. It’s not my job to care anymore. It’s not David’s job, either. So why the fuck do you think we’re still caring about you?” The line was quiet and Gwen could almost imagine the puzzled, searching look on Max’s cute little face. “And before you hurt yourself by thinking, I’ll give you the answer. It’s because we give a damn, okay? Now we’re caring ‘cause we want to. So suck it up because we’re here to stay.” A pause and then a poorly concealed snuffle. She smiled on her end of the line. “Whatever. You wanna talk to David some more?” “Yeah, put him back on.” There was a shuffle on the other end of the call before she was brought back to David’s cheery voice. “Gwen! Have fun talking with Maxie~?” She could hear Max shouting in protest and guessed that David had ruffled his hair. “Ah give him a break, David. You’re lucky the little fucker hasn’t, like, sledgehammered your walls or something.” “Oh it’s not so bad! I think he’s having fun. We went shopping the other day!” “Of course you found shopping fun. How much of your house has he destroyed, anyway?” “What?! None! Gwen, really, he’s being very well behaved.” “Ha! I’ll believe it when I see it. How are you even keeping a ten-year-old entertained in your apartment. I mean your place is so small it only has one bedroom.” “He sleeps on the couch! I- I mean I wouldn’t make him sleep- um-” “Hm? Oh yeah, that makes sense. You’d be too tall for it, really. No wonder T.V. is the first thing he told me about if you’ve got him set-up on the couch.” “I’d encourage him to get out and get some fresh air but… Well, I thought he deserved some space after... after everything.” She mentally dismissed the waver in his voice, pressing on. “And you’re avoiding the question. How are you dealing with this, anyway?” “What?” came David’s strained rebuttal. “Suddenly having to deal with a ten year old? I know Max was kinda your favourite at camp but this is something else.” She waited while David thought about it. “It’s been good. I’m just glad I could be there for him, y’know? Still,” his voice grew hard, “His parents better hope we don’t ever cross paths, or I might just have something more than strong words for them.” “Woah! Careful David, that was almost badass.” “Heh, well. And how have you been, Gwen?” She could tell he was dodging the question. “Oh, you know. Either I’m under qualified or overqualified these days. So job hunting is going as terrible as ever.” “I’m sure you’ll find something soon enough!” “Eh, might not be soon enough to keep my apartment. Especially with Camp Campbell shut down.” “Hmm. Well, I know it’s not where you want to end up, but Summer is finishing. There must be a lot of supermarkets and department stores losing a lot of student employees who now have new openings?” “Shit, clerk work. But yeah, you’re right. It’s either settle or move back in with my parents. Fuck, I hate playing nice with customers though. At least I could swear around the kids when they were being little shits.” “Ah, you probably-” “But adults will ‘ report you ’ and get you fired for ‘ profanity ’.” She sighed heavily, switching the ear she held her phone pressed to as she sat at her computer. She may as well start looking at some local businesses. “Hey, so, David. What are you going to do? With Max?” She pushed. “O-oh. Well I mean there’s still some of that paperwork we need to fill out for the CIA so I was going to try to finish that up while Max-” “No, I meant. In the long run. Are you going to call Child Services or…?” The line went quiet. Gwen waited and then when it remained quiet for an awkward amount of time; “David?” “Sorry. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Yeah. I guess I should.” “Tell them what happened. Hopefully they’ll just put him straight into the foster system. Or, y’know, he’s ten. Good chance he’ll get adopted.” “Mm-hm.” “I know you’ll be sad to see him go, David, but you know you’ve gotta call them.” “I know.” “...And you know you have to tell him, right?” “What?” “You have to tell Max about it. That’s not something you can spring on a kid, especially not one like Max.” “Mmm. You’re right, Gwen. You’re such a good friend!” Gwen rolled her eyes, smiling. “Yeah, yeah - what would you do without me. Okay, I better get back to job hunting, as much as it’s killing me. Good luck with Satan!” “Heh, thanks Gwen. Good luck with the job hunt! I’m sure you’ll do great!” “Ha, I wish. Later.” “See ya, Gwen!” --- David spat toothpaste into the bowl of the sink and watched it dribble around the drain. He looked back up at the mirror. He wasn’t looking so great. His hair was starting to droop, though his perpetual cowlick still valiantly tried to point up. He hadn’t showered since Max got here. He’d been too preoccupied that first night and after that… Well it had never seemed appropriate. If Max was going to stay here for longer than a few nights, though, it would be a necessity. Even worse - Max was going to have to attend to his self care too. The shadow of bags under his eyes weren’t a promising look, either. He ran the tap, taking the cup from the side of the sink and gargling before heading out of the bathroom. He stepped just inside of the lounge room and faced the couch. He eyed the floor between him and the couch apprehensively before crossing to face Max. “Alright, almost bedtime. Time to get back into some good habits; you’d better go brush your teeth. You still have your toiletries from camp, don’t you?” Max rolled his eyes, righting himself from his slouch across the couch. “Fine, whatever.” “And-” David halted, the words catching in his throat. This sounded hard to say and he hated that he was clearly having such trouble. He’d been fine telling the kids at camp all Summer. But it was different now. It was different when it was him telling Max, alone, in his apartment. Alone. He clenched his jaw then flicked his gaze down, away from Max. “And you’ll need to have a shower, too.” The silence in the air was palpable. Still boring a hole in the floor, he added; “I’ll just go wait in my room.” “I’ll bet you will.” David looked up at that, finding Max with a small yet furious frown on his face. “Not-! Not like that! I just meant I’ll stay out of your way. I can... I can take a walk around the block!” David’s face bent with worry and Max’s look smoothed out, turning considering. David tried not to shake as he waited for judgement. “You can stay out here. It’s fine.” Max finished getting up off the couch and kneeled by his duffel bag to retrieve his toiletries and pajamas. David watched him warily as he walked off down the hall, hearing as he opened the linen closet for a towel. He heard the bathroom door shut a moment afterwards and he let out a huff, flopping down onto the couch. That had gone as well as it could’ve in his mind. He picked up the remote, turning up the television and trying to veg-out while Max went through his nightly routine. About half an hour later, Max opened the bathroom door, his pajama pants on and his shirt tied around his waist. He had his towel over his head, trying to dry his thick bundles of hair. He could tell where he was going just by looking down at the floor. He headed into the lounge room, around the front of the couch. He could hear the television from the bathroom once he’d turned the shower off so he knew David must be out here. “Hey David,” he started as he flopped his head back to look at the ex-counsellor, now toweling the sides of his hair, “Can I stay up and watch Jaws, Claws and -” He cut off, taking in David’s expression. The man’s lips hung open just, a blush heavy across his nose and light across his cheeks. His eyes did not meet Max’s face. Max looked down, following the gaze, and caught sight of his own torso. He hadn’t put his shirt on because he hadn’t dried off yet. He knew from experience that he had to dry his hair first otherwise it would just drip all over his shirt. So currently he was standing in just his pajama pants, his bare and flat chest with soft droplets running down it. And David was staring. A disturbed shiver ran down his spine and he felt his stomach curdle. He dropped his towel from his head, draping it over his shoulders and wrapping it around himself. Only when he was covered did David look up, startled and with a guilty look in his eyes. Guilty and… Scared. He was scared? Why was he scared? David stood, looking like a newborn gazelle. “I- I’m sorry.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but instead he just fled from the room. Max stood there for a moment, hugging his towel to himself, then followed David and ‘locked’ his door from the outside. Only when that was done did he return to the lounge room, finish drying and getting dressed. He sat on the couch, Mr. Honeynuts in his lap and the remote in his hand, ready to stay up for Jaws, Claws and Fangs but… He found he couldn’t keep his eyes focused on the television anymore. Annoyed, he slumped down onto the couch and curled up under his blanket. --- David watched Max with half an eye as the boy poked and pushed his food around his plate. While most of David’s pork chops were picked to the bone and he was almost finished his steamed vegetables, Max’s chops had been strategically cut so that just one square of meat had been removed from each. His vegetables were untouched aside from being moved about the plate. David leveled a stern look at him, Max shooting a belligerent look back up at him. “Max,” he sternly started. “David.” Max mimicked back. “You need to eat more of your dinner.” “I don’t want to. I ate all the meat.” “You’ve barely eaten any of your pork chops!” “The rest is just gristle. It’s gross.” “Well, okay. I suppose that’s alright. But you do need to eat some of your greens.” “They taste like crap.” “Max, language! Now I know they might not be your favourite, but they’re still good for you. I want to see you eat half of what’s on your plate, young man.” David’s face was set in a stern look and he gave himself an encouraging little nod when Max looked up at him. Max’s bright eyes flicked between his for a moment before the boy put his knife and fork down. “Max…” David warned. But he was ignored in favour of Max reaching down to grab his sweater and pull it over his head. Oh - not just his sweater but his shirt, too. He dumped both on the floor beside him and he looked up at David and- There was a fire in the boy’s eyes. David flicked his gaze from his face back down to his chest. He belatedly realised what Max was doing and felt a flush start to creep across his face. Tearing his sight away from the boy’s bare chest, he looked back up at his smirking face and tried to remain stern. “Max, y-you need to eat-” He choked off his sentence as Max stretched, reaching his arms high above his head and puffing his little chest out. At the peak of his stretch, he squinted open an eye to stare at David. He really, really wished Max would stop smirking like that. It was making it difficult to not look at his rosy lips and when he tried not to look at them his eyes wandered down to drink in the sight of his bare chest instead. David could deal with seeing shirtless kids. He’d worked at Camp Campbell long enough that he’d been forced to learn how to deal with it. He still had palpitations on bad days, but on good days he could ignore the sight completely. But this was different. Very, very different. This was Max purposefully stripping off. Max showing off his half-naked body because he knew what it did to him. Because he wanted David to be flustered and embarrassed and turned on . That knowledge made all the difference and he couldn’t help but shift in his seat as Max pinned him with his gaze. He could feel his heart beating against the inside of his ribs, his eyes unable to remain in one place as he wildly oscillated between panicking about looking and desperately needing to drink it in. Max relaxed back down into his seat, his gaze still locked onto David’s agitated form. “They taste like crap. I’m not eating them.” Fuck, he’d completely forgotten that that was what had come before all this. He finally wrestled himself under some sort of control and sunk his gaze down onto his plate, his head bowed down. “Mm. Okay. Alright.” he mumbled, now trying to be engrossed by the last bits of food on his own plate. There was a self-satisfied sound from the other side of the table and after a minute he heard the scrape of a chair and the sound of what was probably Max leaving the table. David didn’t stop staring down at his plate.

Stepping out of the shower Jimin was a towel around himself, drying his hair and body with another he steps off his bath at to look into the mirror. His mating mark, over the old one is fresh looking, it had healed over well only leaving an outline of Yoongis dental imprint. Smiling to himself he traces it with his fingers. Stepping away and out into his hallway he hears someone rummaging through his fridge. “Kookie?” “Yeah it's me hyung. I'm starving and I already ate all my food from Tuesdays cooking class.” Jimin hums as he heads towards his bedroom to get dressed. Yoongi is taking him out on a date tonight and he needs to get ready. Dressed in jeans and a buttons down Jimin steps back into his living room to see Jungkook shoving food into his mouth quickly. Jungkook looks up at him looking like a starved hamster with his cheeks bulging with food. Swallowing, “you look nice hyung. I didn't think I'd see the day where you are already dressed for Friday drinks.” “Oh I'm not, I have a date.” “With Yoongi?” “Yes with Yoongi. Who else would be taking me on a date?” “I dunno, some alpha you met at work.” “I'm mated Jungkook. I'm not going out with anyone but Yoongi. Ever.” “Ok ok, jeez. You look nice though. Where is he taking you?” “He said it was a surprise and to dress casual.” “And that is your casual.” “I still want to look nice Kookie. He's my mate.” “Yeah doesn't that mean you can let yourself go now,” Jungkook jokes. “I could but I don't want to. I want to show Yoongi that I still want to impress him. Show him that all his hard work courting me was worth it.” “That's fair. I hope my mate is like you.” “Taehyung is worse than me,” Jimin teases back, “don't think I didn't see you sharing your food with him at the art gallery!” Jungkook blanches, “Tae and I are just friends.” “Sure. Yet you call him Tae. I know the other alphas don't call him that.” Jungkook goes red at that. “We're just friends, nothing more. He's not looking for a relationship. He said so himself.” “I'm just teasing kook. It's ok if you like him.” “I don't like him,” Jungkook stands up with his food and leaves, “nothing happened and no-one likes anybody.” “Ok kook.” Jimin feels a little bad after Jungkook leaves, he hadn't meant for it to turn out that way, Jungkook must really like Tae if he is getting this defensive. Alphas can do that with potential mates they haven't made a move on yet. But he can't dwell on that for too long, he has to get ready for his date. Pulling out his makeup bag from under his bathroom sink he gets to work on his face, making sure to apply a light amount, just enough to accentuate his features. Waiting on his couch he flicks through his social media feeds and texting his friends. He's excited for tonight and Yoongi is taking ages to get here and pick him up. Finally there is a knock at his door, getting up and straightening his shirt he opens the door expecting Yoongi. Its Jungkook again plate in hands as he shoves it at him. “Sorry Kookie. I didn't mean it.” “It's fine. Have fun on your date,” it's said quickly and a little forced but he can tell Jungkook will be alright by morning. He smiles at Jungkook earning him one in return before Jungkook steps away and walks back to his own home. Closing the door he puts the plate in the sink before heading back to the couch. Sitting again and staring at the door willing Yoongi to hurry up in his head. It's another ten agonizing minutes before there is another knock at his door. Using his hands to smooth any wrinkles in his shirt he opens the door again. It's Yoongi this time, a smile splitting his face as he throws himself into Yoongis arms. “Hello to you too. Sorry I'm a little late I had some last minute preparations I had to see too.” Jimins nose is in his neck already, “that's ok, I missed you.” “I missed you too. Now, let's go before we are late.” “Where are we going?” Jimin steps out into the hallway closing and locking his door behind him. “It's a surprise, I told you.” Jimin grips Yoongis hand entering their fingers and wrapping his other arm around Yoongis arm as they make their way out of his building. “I still thought you'd be able to tell me now that we are on our date.” “Nope. You'll see when we get there.” Yoongi hails a taxi with his free arm, opening the door for Jimin to enter before him. Sliding in and giving an address that Jimin doesn't recognise they pull off into traffic. Yoongi turns to him, reaching into his pocket he pulls out a velvet box. “So I know you said you wouldn't mind if I stopped giving you things after we mated but I saw these yesterday and I thought that you would like them so I had to get them.” He opens the box the show Jimin a pair of dangly earrings. “Yoonie, thank you they're so pretty!” Jimin is quick to take out a set of his sleepers that he has in his ears and put them on. Yoongi is beaming at him when he looks back up at him, pride rolling off him in waves as he reaches up to play with the gift. Jimin is almost glowing from his alphas attention that he doesn't realise when the car pulls to a stop. “Baby, time to get out,” Yoongi says as he hands the driver money. He steps out of the car and takes a look around. There isn't much around and Jimin is not sure what it is that Yoongi is planning but he trusts him. Once Yoongi is out of the car he pulls Jimin into his chest, back hugging him while he leads him down an alley to get to the next street. It's there that Jimin catches sight of a strip of shops, lights all off and closed signs up. “Yoonie?” “Just wait.” He leads them down the street a little before stopping and turning into a building. It's a McDonald's. Jimins brow furrows in confusion as to why he is in a McDonald's restaurant on a date. But he's soon being pushed towards the counter and giving his order to the cashier. “Yoongi? Can you tell me now?” “Nope.” “But we are already having our date,” Jimin whines. “We are. So please enjoy it.” Yoongi picks up their food and moves to find a table for them. Dinner is a quiet affair, Yoongi staring at Jimin as he tells him about his week. He tells him about his altercation with Jungkook before their date too. “You know better than to meddle with pining alphas baby. We do crazy things for an omega we want.” “I know, I didn't think it through when I said it. It's ok though, as sad as it sounds, we have said worse things to one another.” “Still I don't want you getting hurt, he might snap. You never know. Imagine if he had hurt you accidentally?” “I know i know. I promise I won't say anything further.” “Good. Anyways, eat up we have places to be.” Jimin finishes his meal a little quicker than normal, hurrying but not so much that it would have made much difference. Cleaning their table and walking out the door Jimin holds out his hand for Yoongi to take. He however opts for the back hug once more, directing him out onto the pavement and left. Walking up the strip of stores Jimin looks into each of them as they pass. He wonders where Yoongi could be taking him next. They stop in front of a old looking building. Jimin turns his head to glance at Yoongi to check they're in the right place before he is nudged up the stairs. Yoongi knocks on the door it takes a while before an elderly omega opens the door for them. “Just in time,” the omega says. He leads them into the building, lights still off before opening a door and ushering them in. It's a theatre Jimin realises as Yoongi pushes them to their seats. There is already a bucket of popcorn and a large drink waiting for them. As they sit down Yoongi smiles at Jimin taking his hand in his so that they are still connected. It's sweet. Jimin understands now what Yoongi has done and tears come to his eyes at the thought of how much effort Yoongi has put into it. “Don't cry baby.” “It's happy tears, I promise. You're so sweet for doing this Yoonie.” “I'd do anything for you. You know?” “I know. And I love you so much.” “I love you too baby. Now the movie is starting.” Jimin settles into his seat as the movie starts, quickly becoming invested at what is playing on the screen. Spirited away is his favourite movie. He grips Yoongis arm and hides his face just like he did last time they saw it together. It's so sweet and corny of Yoongi to recreate their first date together. But Jimin can't help himself and love every minute of it. It's over to soon for Jimins liking as the lights come on after the ending and Jimin gets up to wrap himself around Yoongi. “Thank you. I loved it.” “Your welcome. I'm just glad you didn't find it too cheesy.” “I did but I still loved it. There's one thing missing though.” Yoongi hums eyebrow raising in question. They make their way out of the theatre to meet the omega at the door. “Do you think you could take a photo of us together?” Jimin asks the omega offering out his phone. “Sure.” Jimin pulls Yoongi behind him looking into his eyes as he hears the shutter sound go off. “It's a good one. One for the mantle piece.” Jimin smiles and takes his phone back, “thank you.” They are ushered out once more. “So this is the end of our first date. Can I get a kiss before I take you home?” “You can get a kiss but it's still early, how about we go to the bar so I can gloat about how amazing my alpha is to the others?” Yoongi leans in a presses a kiss to Jimins lips before hailing another taxi. “Whatever you want.” They bundle into the taxi together. Before Jimin pulls out his phone and sends the photo to Yoongis mother. “She will want it, I think.” “Ahh so that was the ting missing. My mother invading our privacy with her camera.” “It wasn't that bad. She was just documenting our life together. I actually want those pictures of us, I'm going to ask her now.” He turns back to his phone typing madly as the taxi weaves through traffic. They arrive at the bar quickly, exiting after Jimin passes his card over to the driver for payment. Entering the bar they search for their friends before heading to the bar to get drinks. They're easy to spot as their group has gotten larger and Jin and Tae are excitedly telling stories of when they were pups growing up together, drawing attention to themselves as the group laughs loudly. It's Jungkook who sees them first. Making the group condense to make room for them to sit. Ping is there too, huddled into Wonhos side as the alpha tries to make room for them both so that his date isn't squished into Jin. Yoongi places his drink down by Jungkook before sitting down. “So how was it?” Jungkook asks. He's in a better mood now Jimin can see, although he knew Jungkook doesn't hold grudges, not for long anyway. “It was in the top five of the best nights of life so far,” Jimin answers before launching into telling the group about his date with Yoongi. “Minus twenty points for originality Meowzers, but plus one hundred for making Jimin glow like a Christmas tree.” “Yeah I'm with Jin, super lame to take Jimin on the same date. But I won't hold it against you because look at him,” Tae says. Eunae nods in agreement. “I think it's sweet,” Ping says quietly. Still timid around the group. “Yeah, me too. And by the looks of things Jimin does as well,” Namjoon adds. “Oh it was really corny but I didn't realise what he was doing until we were at the cinema. So there has to be stealth day points?” “Sixty stealth date points but you lose fifteen of the Christmas tree points because Jimin thought it was lame too,” Jin amends. “I didn't say I thought it was lame!” “Lame, corny, same thing.” “They aren't the same thing. They're two different words and I don't care what you think because Jimin liked it and that's all that matters.” “Can we talk about the gift Yoongi got Jimin though because I have been through all of Jimins things many times and those earrings are new.” Jimin had left out the bit of Yoongi giving him the gift when he has retelling his night. The group zone into his new earrings, looking at them like a pack of hungry wolves. Eunae even going as far to climb over the table to touch them. Yoongi looks a little pissed at someone trying to touch his gift to Jimin but when he looks over to Jimin he relaxes, chest puffing out in pride as he watches his omega preen under the attention of their group. Attention from a present that he got for his omega. “Look at them, they're the definition of whipped for each other,” Hoseok grins. They have moved closer together, Jimin leaning on Yoongi as Yoongis hand has come around his waist. “Very whipped,” Baram agrees. “We’re soulmates remember. We are meant to be whipped for each other,” Yoongi defends. “Yes but I thought you guys would have grown out of this grossness by now,” Jin teases. “Nope. I'm never going to grow out of this. And it's only going to get worse,” Jimin smiles, throwing his legs over Yoongis lap. “Please stop, we are in public and you are acting like a preheat couple.” Yoongi pulls Jimin fully onto his lap now making sure to bury his nose into his neck and scent Jimin while staring at Jin. Jimin settles in his lap easily leaning back into Yoongis hold, pulling Yoongis arms around him and playing with his fingers. “Gross. Can you imagine what they're going to be like when Yoongi finally breeds Jimin. He'll be all over him.” “I can't imagine that I'll be any worse than the rest of you. I'll likely be better than you three though, double the alpha means double the protectiveness.” The alphas at the table nod at that, Jimin included. He knows what alphas can be like after breeding their omega, and he knows that it won't be any different if there are two alphas in the equation. “That will be interesting to see how the dynamics work out between us. I have always wanted to study same sub gender dynamics in this context.” “Please stop. You get to live it. Isn't that enough,” Jungkook whines. “Actually I'm interested in it too. My parents would tell us about how protective my alpha father got of my mother when he discovered that we were on the way. He made her a nest and wouldn't let her out of it at all in the last few weeks gestation. But I'd love to know what it's like for single sex parents of same subgenders.” “Hobi can answer your questions. Has two mums. Wonho does as well but they are both omegas, so you could ask him too,” Baram continues. The conversation breaks off into different groups and Jimin zones out. Leaning his head back against the wall as Yoongi presses his nose there. “Do you want to go? You have gloated.” “Maybe. I'm pretty tired. Stay tonight?” He can feel Yoongi hum his agreement into his neck before getting up. He puts his untouched drink in front of Jungkook, Yoongi skulls his. “We are heading out. Night guys!” “Night! Please don't be having loud sex when I get home,” Jungkook grins. Jimin moves his drink over to Taehyung in punishment for the comment before heading out with Yoongi. It's a short walk home for. The bar and Jimin is grateful for it as he feels suddenly tired after his long day the endorphins from his date wearing off quickly. Yoongi has to carry him up the last flight of stairs. He lets himself flop onto his bed feeling Yoongi follow shortly after him. Reaching for tissues to wipe his makeup off before kicking his pants off as well. Taking his shirt off he feels Yoongis bare body pressed against his and a duvet pulled over them both. It doesn't take long before he is asleep.

"Welcome back, Harriet... Or do you prefer Kazami now?"Harriet Potter, former girl who lived and woman who conquered, reincarnated as the recently deceased Vongola Shadow, leader in the dark of the famous mafia Famiglia beside her brother, smiled at the familiar tall manWith his long black hair tied at the nape of his neck and piercing red eyes, Hallows symbol hanging around his neck, Death hadn't changed. "Well, I'm used to Kazami now, but I guess this will soon change so...""The mafiosi called you Shadow, didn't they?" Death smiled "It is quite fitting for one who shares my powers don't you think?""And the title is free, which is good! Because Protective Goddess of Heroes is a mouthful!" The green-eyed woman turned, surprised to see a woman with light blond hair and eyes reminiscent of hers, though of a lighter shade "I'm Life!" the new goddess introduced herself "You didn't really met most of us the last time you were in the Immortal Realms.""I was reincarnated quickly." nodded Kazami"I'm so jealous of Death!" Life sighed "he's got such a cute little sister!""Er..." she threw a glance at the god, who merely shrugged as if to say 'just roll with it', and seeing how excited his counterpart was being, she decided to do just that While talking, the three of them had left the white nothingness of the newly departed to reach the place where the most powerful gods and goddesses tented to mingle. The floating island was just as beautiful as the first time Kazami had been the there, when she died as Harriet Potter and was given the opportunity to be reincarnated right away.Of course, she hadn't been all that keen on going back to life that fast at the time – but Death had explained to her that it was the most expeditious way to grow more powerful as a goddess, thanks to a gift Chaos made for her; and the newest goddess wanted to be powerful as quick as possible, for she had learned that her mother's protection in her first life had come at a heavy price – Lily Potter was, to this day, still confined in Purgatory, and only a powerful god or goddess could save her. With this knowledge, accepting the position of being reincarnated across the Mortal Realms to help other heroes face their burdens had been accepted without a second thought. And well, after her life as the Wizarding World Savior, she did feel some kind of kinship toward those that had been given the burden of a destiny by Fate.And now, Sawada Kazami, age thirty-three, was dead, and she was back in the Immortal Realms, where she knew she would be sent in her next reincarnation... And this time, she knew letting go of her previous life would be far more difficult – she had been nearly alone when she died as Harriet Potter – but Sawada, no, Sinclair Kazami was leaving behind a husband and two children, and it hurts. Still, it had been a good life, she though, and just for that she didn't regret accepting the gods proposal - this time, she had had the chance of growing up with a loving mother, a twin brother with which she shared a relation just as close as Fred and George had been in her first life, and had even had her own family. Even if leaving them behind hurt, she really couldn't bring herself to regret having chosen the path she had. ¤.¤.¤ "You were supposed to go help the Youkai in your next life," Life was explaining, pulling her out of her thoughts"I knew there was a reason I kept meeting them!""Luck did meddle a bit with this." Death admitted, amused "The gods haven't had that much excitement in eons. Chaos has been asked to rework his Game to try it with other gods, it is a unique chance for us to be able to go to the Mortal Realms." Kazami nodded – she knew that she was the only goddess that could still mingle among mortal, and only thanks to Chaos' Game, that restricted her powers when in the Mortal Realms. The others gods were all far too powerful for a mortal body, and she had been the 'test subject' in a matter of speaking for Chaos' Game."Anyway!" now, it was a small boy with blue hair and molten golden eyes – she recognized Chaos "Because Life has made a pact with a mortal..." at that, the goddess blushed a bit "We've changed our program a bit.""But if the mortal achieve the goal I've set for him, it will be good!" promised the goddess with shining eyes Death nodded his agreement, but frowned a bit "Still, because of this, we're sending you to another world than the expected one. I would have preferred for you to have already developed all of your godly powers before going there, but well...""You know, things never go as expected around heroes." smiled Kazami reassuringly, even thought she was wondering a bit what could be so bad about the world they were sending her to that it worried the ever so calm Death "So it's only natural that they don't go right around me since I'm there to help them...""I guess." her 'big brother' as Life had said it, smiled As for Chaos – he had a large grin "And this is exactly why I like you!""Well, I don't." muttered a voiceThe owner of said voice was a tall and lean girl with beautiful but severe traits, short black hairs and silvers eyes."This is Order," explained Chaos "She's grumpy because things aren't boring anymore..." at that, Order pouted and resolutely turned her back to him, ignoring her counterpart comments "The world you're being sent to isn't on Earth." announced Fate from the bench she was lazily leaning on "And there is no magic in that world."Kazami's eyes widened at this affirmation – even in her life as a mafiosi, she had been surrounded by magic and similar abilities."This is a world of science, and there are energy sources that can be manipulated, but they are quite different from your wizarding magic or Flame abilities." the goddess continued to explain "Because of this, it's a world much more cut out from us gods than Earth. You won't easily find godly servants or anything like that in that world." "But how does Death take care or the souls then? Or the Elements of the weather?""We don't." Death admitted with a sigh "There is a minor divinity that control what goes on there, but his powers are limited, and he mainly maintains balance. And even with that, he's overworked and can't always make it all works." a frown "I've got hundred of thousands of souls who are centuries late for reincarnation because of this mess, so please do send them my way when you can!""Will do." "You're so lucky to have someone who's got your powers going there..." sighed Life "I'd love to me able to sent my Elements there, I'm sure a flood or two wouldn't go amiss!""And beware of Truth," warned a new goddess with wavy midnight blue hair and azure eyes "He's a bit... strange..." a sigh "I guess this post isn't helping him either, but he still refuse any help from his siblings, the stubborn child!""He's of of yours?" inquired Kazami curiously - she had mainly met the major gods but knew that most of them had dozens of minors gods attached to them, like Nature's Element for example"He is." a smile "I'm Knowledge, by the way!" After that, the talk had soon went back on this knew world she was being sent to - Knowledge explaining to her that Death wasn't happy about her going just now because since Truth was the only god with easy access to it, and wasn't as powerful as a major god like she was slated to become, her holy powers would be harder to access, and take a toll on her mortal body much faster than they had on Earth.On top of that, she wouldn't either be able to get into Death Islands in her dreams like she had as Sawada Kazami, which meant she wouldn't see any of the people she knew in her previous life again like she could have done once they passed away if she had been on a realm that wasn't closed off to the gods. "Well," Chaos was now dragging her away from the rest of the gods who were had fallen into debating about who needed most to be able to interfere in that world "Let me update a bit my gift while they're pointlessly debating!""Not going to take part?""Nah, you may be Death's little sister, you sow more than enough chaos just by existing, I don't need anything more from you..." a smile "Who knows, may be you'll develop my powers after that bastard's one!" a last smile "Well, good luck little Shadow!" With that, pain came.Kazami really wished that Chaos' Gift didn't have to be worked directly into her soul – because having your soul being changed really wasn't a good feeling, even for a young goddess in training. But she had already lived once with Chaos' Game by her side, and she knew that for such a priceless gift, enduring that pain was more than worth it. And familiar green writing appeared in front of her eyes... [Welcome to Chaos' Game 2.0][New log entrance: Fate's update welcome to the Alchemy-verse!Summary: You aren't in Texas anymore, Shadow! Nor anywhere on Earth, to be honest. In this world, there are only humans, and the technology is approximately that of the beginning of the XIXth century. The more important difference you'll find is that magic didn't develop, but instead a very scientifically-based alchemy exist.The heroes you'll follow are Edward and Alphonse Elric, two young alchemy prodigies, only descendants of a lost civilization, and they will be your brothers. Help them as their destiny become entangled with their country's fate.] Kazami was surprised – in her previous reincarnation, she had had the choice about whom to be reborn to. In front of her, two silhouettes had appeared, one looking around five year old, the second adult – the appearance she would be born to. To her dismay, she would have to part with her black hair and green eyes, something she had been able to keep during her second life. Physically, after having been Japanese for all of her second life, it seemed she was back to a more Caucasian look...Apparently, the golden hair and eyes were hereditary from the man that would be her father – and couldn't be changed.Shrugging, she continued to her main stats - no need to complain about something she couldn't do anything about after all... [Main Characteristics/100Strength – 3 (physical attribute, influence your damage output)Agility – 7 (physical attribute, influence your speed and flexibility)Endurance – 3 (physical attribute, influence your life points and defense)Intelligence – 7 (mind attribute, influence your theoretical comprehension and learning speed)Wisdom – 6 (mind attribute, influence your metaphysical comprehension and aptitude)Charisma – 4 (general attribute, influence how people see you)Luck– 5 (mind attribute, influence your loot, critical chances and random encounters) unspent: 5 Gain rate: 2 every 5 level and 1 of each every birthday Secondary Characteristics/500*(these are calculated according to your main characteristics but can be changed by some bonuses)Health Points HP: 123*Alchemy Points AP:310*Defense: 15Damage: 23Speed: 25Critic: 27Concentration: 35Mind Speed: 33 (note that HP and AP can go up to 5000)would you like to make any change?] Just like in her previous life, the choice was clear enough – and her lower stats soon rounded up to 5, as she saw no use in specializing right now before she had even gotten a feel of this new world abilities. [Skills(Note that most day to day skills are still there from previous game but none of the fighting skills have been kept and the skills have been separated in three categories: General Skills, Knowledge Skills and Fighting Skills)General Skills:Language: n/a- beast tongue: 31/100- English: 71/100- Latin: 33/100- French: 17/100- Japanese: 61/100- Italian: 61/100- Chinese: 15/100- Korean:12/100- Amestrian: 1/100Communication: 30/100- Negotiate: 37/100- Persuade: 42/100Intimidate: 41/100Bluff: 35/100Seduction: 29/100Awareness: 74/100- Meditation: 61/100- Intuition: 79/100- Empathy: 81/100Survival: 40/100- Lock-picking: 27/100- Pickpocketing: 21/100- Parkour: 54/100- Discretion: 91/100- Wild Life: 17/100- City Life: 34/100Elemental Affinities: 18/100- Fire: 35/100*- Water: 10/100*- Earth: 10/100*- Air: 10/100*- Light: 10/100*- Darkness: 35/100*Past Life: n/a- Hallows: 25/100*- Metamorph: 63/100*Knowledge Skills:General Knowledge: n/a- Earth: 34/100- Amestris: 1/100Mystic Knowledge: 38/100- Runes: 33/100Arithmancy: 52/100Rituals: 29/100Scientific Knowledge: 17/100- Mathematics: 21/100- Physics: 12/100- Chemistry: 19/100- Biology: 26/100- Mechanics: 6/100Alchemy: 1/100Earth-based: 1/100*Fire-based: 1/100*Air-based: 1/100*Water-based: 1/100*Fighting Skills:Range: 1/100- Close: 1/00- Middle: 1/00- Long: 1/100Weapon: 1/100- Unarmed: 1/100- Blunt: 1/100- Blade: 1/100- Throwing: 1/100- Shooting: 1/100Ground: 23/100- Strategy: 69/100*- Battle Sense: 1/100*- Killing Intent: 1/100* Unspent:10 Gain rate: 1 every level, naturally while using the skill *mark slow growing skills **mark fast growing skills note that most skills are automatically translated in active or passive Abilities ranked out of 10 and evolving every 25 skill point : basic, beginner, intermediate and advanced Ability] This time, the no longer green eyed woman hesitated a bit more – her first choice, naturally, was the language, as it always was a pain not to understand what was going on, but clearly, she'd be needing scientific knowledge and of course, alchemical knowledge too. Which made far too many things to upgrade with the points she'd been given.Eventually, she settled on bringing Amestrian to 5, chemistry to 20 and physics to 17 – and after confirmation, the next window appeared. [Perksunlocked:Chatter-Box 1/4(Communication 25): +1 CharismaBenevolent Sage 2/4 (Awareness 50): +3 WisdomMystical Guru 1/4(Mystic Knowledge 25): +1 WisdomSurvivor 1/4(Survival 25): +1 EnduranceSoul Art(Hallows 25): your link with Death has developed enough that souls and their magic have no secrets for youVon Hohenheim Inheritance: golden looks aren't the only thing inherited from your father! +2Intelligence, +1Charisma at each birthdayavailable:- Science Nerd: double rate of learning scientific and alchemical skills- Smooth Talker: double rate of learning communication skills- Hard Work Genius: double rate of improving skills when using them (locks Natural Genius)- Natural Genius: double rate of improving skills when studying about them (locks Hard Work Genius) Unspent: 1 Gain Rate: 1 every 10 level Previous Life Perksunlocked:- Black Inheritance: unlocks Metamorph skillavailable:- Vongola Inheritance: unlocks Sky Flames +5 (orange flames aura that enhance your Wisdom and Empathy Skills)- Vongola Shadow: unlocks Wind Flames +5 (blood red flames aura that enhance your Agility and Survival Skills)- Fiery Soul: unlocks Storm Flames +5 (red flames aura that enhance your Strength and allow you to disintegrate items)- Vindice Inheritance: unlocks Night Flames +5 (black flames that enhance your Agility and allow you to move from one place to another) Unspent: 1 Alternate Life Perks:unlocked:Ravenclaw Inheritance: +1Intelligence, +2Wisdom at each birthday] She paused a bit in front of the Previous Life Perks – while she would have loved to keep a perk with her beloved Famiglia's name in it, she knew that all in all, it was the Vindice Inheritance that would be most useful in the long run; ah well, she hadn't kept the Potter Inheritance in her previous life either...She had been surprised to see that the Ravenclaw Inheritance had been kept too, but happy about it knowing that any advantage was always good to take – then she spent a bit of time wondering about the normal Perks before finally settling on the Hard Work Genius; even if scientific knowledge would be easier to gain with the Natural Genius Perk she wasn't starting from scratch in these skills, while she knew her fighting skills would be all but non-existent when she eventually gained them.And somehow, she doubted she'd have a peaceful, quiet life where fighting skills wouldn't be needed. [Soul Imprint activatedFaded Scar (+2Intelligence, +1Wisdom)Alpha Mark (+2Strenght, +1Agility)Soul Mark (+2Charisma, +1Wisdom)Hand-fasting Mark (+2Luck, +1Charisma)][Characteristics updated!][System log: please note that Soul-bound items will be added to your Inventory upon birth and Soul-bound familiar will find their own way to you in the first month] [Character's Creation Complete! Let's Play!] ¤.¤.¤ "So you came..." Life smiled at the tall, dark haired man "I knew you would, but some were starting to have second thoughts. You did wait three years.""I had to take care of some things first.""Of course." a smile "Well then, let's get to work... You do understand that as long as you don't meet my conditions, you wont regain your memories."A nod. "Well. Chaos, if you would?""Of course!"With that, the small god jumped toward the man, who slumped into unconscious as soon as the god touched him – as such, he never saw Luck peck him on the cheek "So that you don't waste too much time finding her..."With that, the man disappeared. "Why are we catering to this mortal's wishes again?" grumbled Order"Because we haven't had anything this exciting to do in millennia's of course!" laughed Chaos "You're just sour because it creates so much chaos!""Ah well," sighed Order "I guess the balance has to be maintained." a small blush as she admitted "And it is less boring..." Chaos smiled happily – Order did like to appear all uptight and serious, but truth was she was far more laid back than she let on when she didn't worry about her godly duties. Chapter I: 1901-1905 The worst in being reborn was the first years.The previous time, she had been lucky enough to have most of her first life memories sealed off emotionally from her – but leveling up in her Hallows skill, the skill that dealt with her godly powers, had broken this seal. Because of that, the feelings of her first two life were still strong, and overwhelming for her young mind. Thankfully, her meditation skill had followed her from her life as the Vongola Shadow, and it did help her a lot – along with making her one of the calmest baby ever seen. But what truly made those first years hell was her father.Oh, don't get her wrong – even if a bit distant, Von Hohenheim wasn't a bad father, her Soul Art, the holy skill she'd developed in her previous life let her know that the man truly did love his wife and children.But that same skill also let her feel the hundred of thousands of suffering souls bound to her father – and because of that, being near her father made her feel as if she was drowning in a sea of people, seen and heard only by her. Well, at least finding part of the missing souls Death had been asking about wasn't all that hard even if it did raise the problem about what she would do about them - not that she really could do all that much for now, her mind might be advanced, her control over her body still had to be regained by her own hard work.Yet again, meditation was he salvation as she used and abused it to learn to ignore a bit the uncomfortable feeling that followed her father's presence everywhere. As for her Soul-Bound items, like the notification had said, they were in her otherwise empty Inventory. Except for one glaring and inexplicable exception. She had been born to this world with her Soul Link in her hair, as if it had grown there like another, strange hair lock.Of course, her parents had wondered why their baby girl had been born with a delicate silver chain and its pearl, fang and feather ornaments in her hair – but there wasn't any way to find out, and they soon grew used to it. As for her, she had mainly been surprised, but thankful – because they would probably had had even more questions if they had seen the marking on her face. The two blood red claw marks under her eyes, proof that she had accomplished the coming of age rite of the canine youkai and the faded lightning-shaped scar of her first life weren't things baby were supposed to be born with, and her Soul Link had the useful ability to hide those, thanks to the illusionary pearl the golden kitsune Shippo had gifted her decades ago.The other marks hidden by the pearl, a small round tattoo at the base of her left hand fingers representing her mastery of Soul Art and the Deathly Hallows symbol within the Arcobaleno Pacifier on her inner right wrist were less noticeable – and the echoes of her husband's love in the latter mark had been yet another mean to keep calm whenever her emotions were getting to be too much for her young body. As for Padfoot – as expected, her loyal companion had found her within days of her birth, and had lived just outside the house ever since. Her parents had bee wary of the dog at first, but he was still a pup, and never acted aggressive toward them so they let him be – and as soon as their daughter could walk, he was following her everywhere.So used to the dog's presence as they were, it took them nearly three years to note that he didn't grown, still stuck as the same overly cute puppy form he'd been when he appeared near their house for the first time. They found it strange, but chalked it up to some genetically anomaly the dog had been born with... ¤.¤.¤ "Ari! Come on Ari!"Ariana smiled and ran to catch up with her elder brothers, Edward impatiently waving at her.The two of them were already near the large tree that gave his shape not far from their home, playing with a little blond girl – but this blond had much lighter hair, as the Elric shade of golden blond was unique to them... Winry Rockbell was five, just like Ariana's elder brother Edward, and was their nearest neighbor. The little tomboy lived with her parents, both of them doctors, and her grand-mother, granny Pinako, an old automail mechanics.Ariana loved to spent hours with Winry and granny Pinako watching the old woman work her magic – and for Ariana, it really was magic, in a world that lacked so many of the technologies she was used to, to see something like the automail granny Pinako made... Of course, she also spent a lot of time with her brothers spying into their father's study. She may know that alchemy was considered a science, it still was the nearest thing to real magic in this world.She was nearly at the top of the small slope when she changed her mind and slowed down a bit, letting the tall man that had been trailing behind catch up with her."Not going to join them?" She glance toward the tall silhouette of her father as he caught up with her, then answered "No, I'll stay with you."If there was one thing she was happy about, it was the fact that she learned her new birth language far faster than she had learned Japanese – thanks among other things, to the consequent intelligent boost given to her by both her Ravenclaw Inheritance and Von Hohenheim Inheritance.More impressive maybe was the fact that despite her Ravenclaw Inheritance, she was just able to keep up with her brothers, both of them having, after inspection of their Character Informations, a True Genius Perk that gave them a consequent boost in both Intelligence and Wisdom at each birthday. "But you don't like being near me." her father casually statedAriana gave him another glance – the downfall of living with geniuses was that it wasn't easy to hide things from them."The screams of the souls you host aren't really pleasant." she admitted "But I can also feel that it isn't something you did to yourself." a shrug "But it's not as if you're going to be here much longer..." Her brothers maybe intelligent but when it came to human interactions, they were far less skilled that Tsunayoshi had been as her twin – as such, she was the only one that had been able to read the new expression that had crept in her father's eyes in the last few months. He was desperately searching for something, and for that he would leave them. Sometimes, Ariana wondered if there was some kind of curse against parental figures in her life...Von Hohenheim wasn't surprised at the first part of her answer – but he didn't expect the second part, that was clear. Finally, after a moment, he asked "And you don't care about it?""It's not that I don't care." she denied – despite the unpleasantness of the multiples souls hidden within him, she had grown to love the gentle man that was her new father "It's that I can't prevent you from leaving and I know it." "Don't you wonder about the souls that I host?""Will you answer if I ask?" she counter-askedAt that, he took even more time to think – his first answer would have been negative, but looking into the much too knowledgeable eyes of his youngest child, he paused."I will." he eventually answered, before gesturing for her to sit down She did so, leaning against him, much to his surprise, and Padfoot in her arms, as he started his tale.It was the tale of a young, nameless slave identified only a by a number – 23 – cleaning his master's laboratory – and the tale of said master's masterpiece, a thing called homunculus. A tale that took place during her father's youth, more than four centuries ago.The homunculus was far more knowledgeable than any human, born from the master's experiments with humans and alchemy, but he was also stuck in a small, cramped bottle, condemned to die if the small conteneur was ever broken... As the boy and the homunculus talked, friendship grew between them, and the being without a body taught to the nameless slave and gave him a name. Von Hohenheim shared his knowledge with the other slaves, and gained the favor of his master, becoming his assistant and gaining more and more knowledge about alchemy, his inborn intelligence shinning for the first time in his life.Then, the master and his homunculus were called in front of the aging king, who had a demand for the small being stuck in his jar – immortality. The answer to that demand was monstrous, but the king did not know it yet – for years, he had laborers dig a large circle all around the country; for 'irrigation', he said to the people, who praised their king for his thoughtfulness. Of course, it was but a lie, and when the circle had been drawn and blood spilled by the king's men under the guise of halting rebels, the transmutation circle that activated brought only death to the prosperous nation. In one night, all the kingdom disappeared, souls wrenched out from their body to feed the gigantic alchemy circle... "The homunculus had used the king for years, baiting him with tales of immortality, but when the moment came there were only two people standing in the center of the circle. Him, and me. Half the souls stuck into me, destroying and recreating my body to what it is today, the other half in the newly made body of the homunculus.""But why did he made you immortal too?""In his own twisted way, it was his way or repaying me." at the interrogative glance sent his way he elaborated "The homunculus is part of the Truth hidden behind the Gate of Alchemy, bound to our world thanks to my blood." "So he considered you his father." she answered to her own question, filling away the unknown words for latter and wondering if it had any link with god in charge of this world"Probably. After that we each went our own way, he to the West, and I to the East..."Von Hohenheim had taught alchemy to the people of the East to show his gratitude to those that helped him when he was at his lowest, still trying to come to terms with the despicable act made by the homunculus.It took him decades to realize that said homunculus' plans were far from over. "While I had become know as the Philosopher of the West to the Xingese, Amestris was born, and had it's own Philosopher...""You mean..." Ariana eye's widened "The Philosopher of the East is the homunculus?""He is, and it's because of him that I must leave.""What is he planning?""The same thing he did with Xerxes, only on a larger scale.""But he's already got an immortal body, what more could he want?" Her father answered by a sad smile "This, I don't know... Only that he's the one hidden behind our government and has been for as long as the country has existed.""He used a million souls to grant the two of you immortality..." muttered the little girl "Who knows what he could do with fifty millions..." her eyes were serious when she turned toward the father "This is something that you must do, but not something you'll manage alone." she warned before letting out a sigh "And don't be gone too long, or we'll forget you." The man smiled – she had said 'we', but he could clearly hear what she truly meant, as her eyes trailed on her two older brothers. He'd been afraid, when each of his children were born, of what it would meant for them to have a monster as he was for father, much more so when he'd seen the improbable silver ornament she was born with and those eyes, far too old for a three year old.But whatever it was that made his daughter so different, it was a good kind of different...He felt better about leaving, knowing that the youngest would take care of the family. Before fall came, Von Hohenheim left.Even if she smiled for her children, it was easy to see that Trisha Elric deeply missed her husband – and all three of them had regularly caught her crying when she didn't know they were there. By the end of the first week, Ed had managed to lock-pick the door of their father's office, and and dragged his siblings into studying the heavy tomes – because mother always smiled when they talked about doing alchemy when they grew up, just like their father. And who said they had to wait?About the same time as her older brother talked her into studying alchemy, Ariana's first quest appeared in Chaos' Game... [Life Quest! To make a mother smileGoal: get to rank 5 in Earth AlchemyReward: +5XP per goal, 1 beginner tome of Earth Alchemy upon completion] The three siblings had spent the following week in the dusty office, and with the motivation of making their mother smile, the boys had revealed their genius mind, something they never had needed before.In seven days, they had learned as much as older alchemy students took months to learn. At school during the day, they ignored their teacher to pursue their new interest, much to the despair of the old woman – but Rosembool was a small village, and they couldn't do much more for the intelligent mind than let them find their own interest and keep on educating the more normal students.Seeing that Winry was feeling a bit left out, Ariana had invited the older girl – but alchemy hadn't held her attention more than a few minutes. Rather than give up on spending time with her friends, she came back the next day – with a heavy book on automail lent by granny Pinako. [Goal complete!+5XPGoal update: transmute something for mother][Level up! Your are now level 2!+1PP] The new goal hadn't been hard, Ariana swiftly dragging her brothers along and forcing them to show off their new talent before doing the same. The two boys, that had been a bit cross at being dragged away from their books at first soon cheered up when seeing Trisha's proud smile, remembering that she had been the reason why they even started studying said books. The following months had been spent studying more and more to then show off to their mother, whose smile was always a bit brighter when they distracted her with their alchemy – and the weekly quest to transmute something for Trisha was one Ariana never missed, because though the experience gain wasn't all that impressive with only one measly experience point reward, the smile it never failed to put on their mother's face was priceless.But as winter drew nearer, Ariana could soon see that their mother seemed more and more weary, and with it, fear seized her. Up until now, she had mainly noted the absence of certain technologies and adapted – but right now, she was feeling keenly the lack of medical facilities as advanced as those she had had access to as the Vongola Shadow, or the lack of Sun Flames to heal people.With Winry's parents gone to the front to heal people, there was no competent doctor in Rosembool. Naturally, the next thing she thought about was alchemy – but human alchemy was forbidden; then she remembered about her father talking about the Xingese in the days after he shared his story with her. Alkahestry, contrary to alchemy, was known for it's healing applications. ¤.¤.¤ And so, Ariana started to go thought Von Hohenheim's books – and came up against her next big obstacle. She didn't spoke, nor read Xingese...Putting Amestrian alchemy aside, she soon was deep into the old tomes, trying to guess at the unknown language – then she went into town, talking with the men that did the desert crossing to Xing, and started asking them about the language – and thanked Von Hohenheim for the Charisma boost her father had given her, as even the harshest men seemed to melt in front of the cute little girl. With a basic grasp on Xingese, she went back to Von Hohenheim's tomes – and started making basic progress in alkahestry, which started to increase her Water Alchemy skill. It had surprised her, since the books said that Alkahestry dealt with the flow of energy deep under the planet's crust – that crust being the one used by the Amestrian Earth-based alchemy she had simply assumed it meant it was Earth-based alchemy too – but apparently, the key point in alkahestry was liquid flow, which in turn linked it to water rather than earth. "What are you doing?"Ariana's eyes widened – she hadn't thought her mother would wake up, what with how tired she had been looking recently. Finally, she admitted "Alkahestry.""On me?" asked a dubious Trisha – it was after all well known that alchemy wasn't to be used on humans"Alkahestry is more axed toward healing than alchemy. This is to help with exhaustion." explained the little girl, nervously twirling one hair-lock around her finger "You are sick, and I'm not skilled enough to heal you, but if you're less tired you won't be as susceptible to whatever it is that is affecting you." Trisha's smile faltered – the woman had thought she hid it well enough, but like always, her daughter had surprised her with her insight.Parenting geniuses like her kids were wasn't all that easy - but in some way it was both harder, and easier with her youngest - because she always felt like she had even less to teach to the girl than her two boys that may be intelligent still had to be steered in the right direction; as a mother it would have been a bit disheartening hadn't her daughter's love for their small family been so evident. So, caving in under the large , expressive and hopeful golden eyes that were far too aware for such a little girl, she did the only thing she could for her daughter.With a smile, she nodded for the little girl to go ahead – and with a flash, the Xingese art did its work, making a bright smile blossom on the small girl's face.If they hadn't seen that their mother was tired, her two brothers realized soon enough that she was feeling better, and connected it easily enough with their young sister new obsession for alkahestry.So, with his usual bluntness, Edward confronted her head on. "Why didn't you tell us that mom was sick?"Edward looked angry – but Ariana knew him well enough to understand that it wasn't aimed toward her, but himself, for having missed the signs."She wouldn't want you to worry." she answered simply"She wouldn't want you to worry either, yet you did, and you cured her!" the eldest Elric sibling protested hotly"I didn't cure her." she sighed back, voice heavy with the admission of the failure that was eating away at her "I can't, I don't know enough to cure her, this..." she gestured toward the circle she had used, or rather one of the trial circles she had used on herself "This is just to help with tiredness, it does nothing on the sickness itself." she dropped her head "And for all our vaulted genius, it would still take me far too much time to learn enough..." ¤.¤.¤ Edward and Alphonse eyes darkened at that, finally seeing that even if she was fine physically, mentally their sister too was nearly exhausted, trying in vain to do something she knew she couldn't - yet not able to bring her to stop herself either, needing to feel that she was doing something.Sitting briskly by her side, Edward took the heavy tome from her hands "So, how is Xingese read anyway?" he demandedFrom his place on Ariana's head, Padfoot gave the boy a doggy grin of approval. And the three siblings went back to their studies, all three working on the same thing once more. It soon came apparent that the brothers had more difficulties with water alchemy than their sister had – until she had the inspiration to train with them in the small river than ran near the Rockbell's house.They spent a few hours in the watercourse, coming home freezing, as it was still the middle of winter, but looking at the water flow had helped both boys visualize what they should be searching for under the earth's crust, and they finally made progress in the practical side of alkahestry, instead of being stuck to the theory. But day by day, the sickness progressed and even Ariana and her brother's alkahestry wasn't sufficient anymore, as Trisha was gradually confined to her bed for longer and longer periods of time.Edward's anger was growing at their own powerlessness, and each time their mother's eyes strayed to the family picture by her bedside, he would leave, unable to look at the absent man who knew so much more than them, who should have been here saving mother. "Where the fuck is this bastard when we need him!""You know he wouldn't have left if he could help it." a voice by his side softly statedThe boy's eyes widened – Ariana had a gift for walking silently, and he hadn't heard her approaching in the backyard covered in snow. But his surprise didn't distract him long from the fury boiling inside of him. "I don't." he denied "Because the bastard left without saying anything, and hasn't come home even though mom's sick!""He didn't want to say goodbye." Ariana explained "I heard him talk with mom.""Still, he should be here, not wherever he is." the anger was still there, but colder – it wasn't really that he resented his father even if it was part of it, more than he despised his own powerlessness and needed someone to blame "Mother would be happier if he was here." "She would be." Ariana agreed "But she also let him go.""She shouldn't have! Nothing is worth leaving your family behind!""Family shouldn't be left behind." Ariana nodded, unable to deny this affirmation – because family had been an important part of her life as a Vongola, and she had yearned for family as a Potter; because just like she had said to him, he shouldn't have gone away for too long when he had such young children waiting for him at home Because Ariana may have already given up on having a father figure in this life too, Ed and Al shouldn't have to give up too, and yet – yet they already were, because their father was missing at the most important moment in their young life.And though she understood why her father had left, her heart still broke each time she saw her mother cry, her eldest brother rage or her second brother smile sadly. At the eve of the new year, alkahestry reached its limits, and Trisha Elric passed away in her sleep. ¤.¤.¤ "How can such a young man already have the eyes of the killer?"This was what his teacher asked him the first time they met.Of course, he didn't know – he didn't know why orhow, but had already decided what he'd do about it. After all, he had been born with eyes far too old and cold for any child, and had grown up taking in the state of his birth country with these eyes – and so, he would put these eyes to good use in the only way he could think of. "So you want to become a military dog, eh?" disapproval was evident in his alchemy mentor's voiceAlchemy was for the people, according to the old saying - but State Alchemist were weapon of war..."I do. So that others won't have to." he said "You said it, I've already the eyes of a killer, so better me than someone who doesn't know what he's getting into.""That's your only reason?" An amused smirk "Of course not. It's just like you said, State Alchemist are military dog... But right now, this country is run by the military, and if we want to give back the alchemists to the people, then where better to work on it than among the military?""That's quite an ambition."He had nodded, knowing of course, but already determined to see it through. But after that discussion, his teacher had looked at him thoughtfully, and a few days after he won the silver watch, the emblem of the State Alchemists, he walked in his teacher's house library to be confronted by an unexpected sight."I feared, when you said you wanted to be a military dog, that you were like most of these idealistic youngster that are crushed by the system as soon as they understand what it really is to be a State Alchemist, but you proved me wrong..." The old alchemist pointed at the intricate alchemical circle displayed in front of them "This is my greatest work. Memorize it, decrypt it and use it to change our country. Do not take regret in the blood you'll spill with your gift, but do not take pride in it either..."His master died a few days later, asking only one last thing from him – that he took care of the daughter he was leaving behind. "I hope you find what you're looking for."These words surprised him, but he couldn't ask his now deceased alchemy tutor what he meant by them – or rather how he knew.Because Roy Mustang was a man born with eyes too old, a fascination with fire, and the unshakable will to find something that constantly eluded him... Chapter II: 1904-1909 "I'm cold." Alphonse whispered from the place where they had been kneeling in front of the newly made grave for hours "And hungry.""Let's get home." Ariana said in a low voice "I'll make lunch."Finally, Edward spoke, for the first time since they'd been here "Humans are composed of the mind, soul and flesh." The little girl closed her eyes, as her middle brother answered "It was in dad's books, I know." she really didn't like where this talk was heading"The books also spoke of homunculus... So maybe we could revive mom.""But the books also said it was forbidden!" Al protested, yet hope was still slipping in his tone"Then this'll be our secret." "This is madness." Ariana finally protested, already knowing that it wouldn't work "There is a reason why human alchemy is forbidden! It never works!""Yet alkahestry can heal people!" Ed contradicted"Living people!" his sister hotly retorted "The dead are better left to the gods!""There is no god, Ari!" She hadn't expected that affirmation to hurt that much.After all, she wasn't like those powerful beings back in the Immortal Realms, that hadn't been mortal for so long they had mostly forgotten about them. But still, her body may be mortal, her soul wasn't anymore - it was a part of her now, even if she wasn't used to it yet. Hearing her own existence denied, albeit unknowingly, by her brother, hurt.It hurt, yet it didn't surprise her, because she knew him - and Edward was a hardcore scientist who only believed in things he could explain. By her side, Padfoot whined lowly, and pressed his head against her in reassurance, while Ed continued hotly "There is no god, but there is science and alchemy, and with it, we'll be able to get mom back!" Ariana didn't answer – she had known that this discussion wouldn't go her way after all- she had know from the moment the notification had appeared in front of her eyes, as if mocking her... [Life Quest! The path to knowledgeGoal : get to rank 25 in Earth AlchemyReward: +10XP per goal, 1 beginner tome to be chosen upon completion] Destiny was coming for her brothers, and she couldn't avoid it. After all, she knew from the start that they had been touched by Fate, hadn't she? This was even the reason why she had been born by their side. ¤.¤.¤ The year 1905 came and went, and the Elric siblings spent most of their time nose in the books.The first step toward their goal, the boys had decided, was to break down what made a human body. "Water, 35 liters.""Carbone, 20 kilograms.""Ammonia, 4 liters.""Lime, 1.5 kilograms.""Phosphorous, 800 grams.""Salt, 250 grams.""Saltpeter, 100 grams.""Sulfur, 80 grams.""Fluorine, 7.5 grams.""Iron, 5 grams.""Silicon, 3 grams.""And fifteen traces of other elements..." The biological knowledge had been easy to find, down to last details – it was the alchemical knowledge that was still lacking. It had been several months since the Life Quest goal had been met, and the update had followed, making Ariana level up to mid-way to Level 7.But the new goal, to find an alchemy tutor, wasn't one easy to met in a small countryside village like Rosembool, and Edward was still adamant that they could do it by themselves, even thought learning by the books was much harder than having a teacher... Even thought they clearly weren't up to do human transmutation, their alchemy was still far better than the year before, and the three of them practiced it every moment they could by helping repairing broken goods and other small tasks around the village and the neighboring farms.With the region in turmoil because of the Ishval conflict nearby, their help was well-received and much needed, and the three Elric Siblings were starting to make themselves a small reputation. The year 1906 was soon gone, swiftly followed by 1907 – and at the beginning of 1908, a few months after the State Alchemists were sent to terminate the Ishval war, news came to Rosembool. Winry's parent had stayed behind as the Amestrians were relocated, to help the injured Ishvalians, and were murdered in their war-zone hospital. ¤.¤.¤ "What scientists lack is a lack of imagination! I mean, there was a man one day who saw milk and managed to create something as delicious as cheese! This take a special kind of inspiration, doesn't it!" Ed was crowing"What are you talking about?" a bemused Al wondered"The human body! If people tried before, and failed, it's probably because they failed to account for something! Just like by adding cream in a soup you make the taste richer!""You really do think with your stomach..." Ariana sighed, before stopping in her tracks just as they went off the bridge that went over the local watercourse "Do you hear that?" she askedOn her head, Padfoot whined in a low voice, ears turning around, before pinpointing on a sound.Her brothers shared a glance, and shrugged – then startled as they too heard a small, weak meow, barely audible under the water's soft and steady rumble. The next second, the three of them were getting off the road and stumbling under the bridge, and easily found the body of a lanky, dead cat, with several kittens looking just as dead around – except that they had heard meows.Al, animal lover that he was, was torn between the natural horror inspired by the dead bodies and the will to help those still alive – as for Ariana, she was already kneeling, and feeling up the small bodies to find which ones were still breathing, having grown past the normal revulsion over dead body that most people had sometime during her first life.Her body may have changed, her mind and her soul still remembered the horrors of the war against Voldemort after all... She soon had found two surviving kittens, and was fumbling around for a bit of wood to draw an alkahestry circle – because chalk wouldn't hold in the mud. But there was nothing, and she was growing frustrated; she had the circle ready in her mind, she just needed something to write it!Her hand hit the ground in frustration, and the next instant, a flash was seen, as a circle, inscribed within her fingers appeared on the ground and activated, healing the two kittens like she had wanted to. "What the hell was that?" Ed wondered, both stunned and excited"I... don't know..." she answered, just as surprised as her brothers "I just had the circle in my mind and when I touched the ground, it activated itself just as if I'd drawn it!" she explained"Did you ever do that before?"A negative head shake."Well, you'll have to try at home. For now..." he trailed, turning toward his younger brother that was already cradling the two small animals "It looks like we've got two free-loaders to take care of."Despite his disapproving tone, he was smiling softly at his brother, making Ariana smile - Edward, who took his role as the eldest seriously always felt like he had to appear less childish and be meaner than he really was for people to take him seriously, as their age tended to make adult dismiss them easily. In the days that followed, they took care of the two rescued kittens, but it soon became apparent that if one was on the mend, the other was just barely surviving.By the end of the week, they were making a grave behind their house for the little black kitten that hadn't survived – as for the last cat remaining, a perky little calico christened Paws by Alphonse, he was now completely healthy and was following the middle brother everywhere, the young boy having even taken to carry him around on his head just like Ari did with Padfoot, to Ed's despair. The youngest Elric had also experimented around with the strange skill she'd found – and soon found out that as long as she had the details of the transmutation she wanted to make in mind, she didn't need to draw a circle, the palm of her hand acting as replacement for said circle.What was even stranger was that none of her brother could do it, even if she instructed them about how she did it – and they had never heard of anyone else able to do something like that... "Why is human transmutation forbidden?" Al wondered, hunched over a heavy book"Because no one ever succeeded?" Ed suggested"Or because a whole country was destroyed in a night..." sighed Ari, remembering her father's story – several times, she had been tempted to tell the truth to her brothers, so they didn't go through with this project they were aiming forPredictably Ed rolled his eyes "The tale of the Philosopher of the East is just that!" he snapped "A tale!" But without proof, without her father there to convince them, Edward would never believe this tale, far too stubborn and unbelieving – and Alphonse, kind soul that he was, was a bit disturbed by human transmutation as they studied more about it yet still he couldn't abandon their goal.Because they were before all young children, alone in a harsh world, and they dreamed about seeing their mother smile again. So, just for this small hope, Al was willing to ignore his worries, and those of his sister... And because they were her brothers, her family, she decided that if she couldn't dissuade them from this madness, then she'd damn herself with them. With summer, came the storms, and the heaviest rainfalls in sixty years, and soon the small river that ran near Rosembool was swelling and swelling, and every able-bodied man in the village was rushing to pile sandbags along the shores.The siblings shared a glance – this wouldn't be easy, but they should be able to do something to help. Just as they were stepping forward, a dark-haired woman with a serious look on her face stepped forward "This is dangerous," she stated to the men nearby "You should step back.""This is our line!" the nearest man protested "Who are you!" The next second, with a clap of her hands, she'd transmuted a high wall along the shore by using the nearby mud and ground "There, this should last for a while.""You guys should still reinforce the wall." another newcomer added – a gigantic man, who promptly went by the woman side to protect her from the downpour with his umbrella"I can't believe this..." muttered one of the villagers, still stunned "Who are you?""Just a normal housewife." was the smiling answer he got – and a moment latter, their savior was crumbling, coughing blood Without wasting time, Ari transmuted a stretcher with her raincoat and nearby branches, not noticing the startled look she got from the tall man, and soon the unconscious woman was brought into the nearest home.They didn't have a true doctor since the Rockbell passed away, so a nearby farmer who knew a bit about healing was called, along with the Elric siblings – with their reputation growth, the villagers were now used to rely on them for small cough and other ailments, the youngest having kept up a bit with alkahestry, contrary to her brothers. Without wasting time, a circle to prevent exhaustion was activated, the same one she used to make for her mother, and soon, the woman was regaining conscience."So you guys are tourists from the West," an impressed villager was soon stating as questions and answers were exchanged "we were lucky you were passing by.""Are you a State Alchemist?" another asked excitedly, missing the dark look from the woman"I'm just a butcher's wife," she denied with a bright smile denied by the cold glare she barely repressed at the question "my name is Izumi Curtis, and this is my husband." she added gesturing toward the giant man ¤.¤.¤ As for Ari, she was still deep in thoughts – when taking care of the woman, she had used two circles – the one that had sped up her recovery, and another, of her own making.Her first personal alkahestry circle had been inspired by the first spell used by healers in her first life, as she had thought something similar would be useful – and so had created her diagnosis circle.Of course, she never showed this circle to anyone around, partly because nobody except for her brothers understood anything about alchemy nor alkahestry – mainly because if someone did understand, they would probably class this circle as illegal. In order to obtain or create something, something of equal value must be lost or destroyed stated the equivalent exchange principle of alchemy – and so, in order to obtain information about a patient physical state, she had to gave up blood – both hers and the person on whom she wanted the information. It didn't take a lot of blood, since she only gained information but no solution as to what to do about any problem detected, but it was more than enough to be classed as human alchemy by some narrow-minded morons.She didn't know if her circle would be classified as legal, but it worked well now that she had learned enough about biology and the human make-up to interpret the results that flashed into her mind when she used it - and as such, she didn't really care, after all, she had been number 2 of the largest mafia Famiglia in the world in her previous life, and she certainly hadn't managed that by embarrassing herself with useless legal restrictions... Anyway, the results of her maybe illegal circle were quite clear in this particular case. Izumi Curtis survival was something of an illogical miracle, as she lacked several internal organs – mainly the reproductive ones, but not only – and her insides looked as if something had wrenched out a few things and put the rest back together in a barely working order. ¤.¤.¤ While she was deep in thought, Ed had shared a glance with Al, the elder having understanding that sheer stubbornness wasn't sufficient anymore in their studies a few weeks ago, and soon both her brothers were rushing at the front of the crowd, taking full advantage of their small size "Granny! Please accept the three of us as your disciples!""Who are you brats calling granny!" was the hot-tempered answer, as Izumi Curtis propelled herself out of her sick bed, apparently ready to tore a new one into the kid "Besides, you don't even know how to count, and I don't take disciples!""We do know how to count!" Ed answered back "Who do you think healed you! You should be grateful to Ari!"His sister was finally torn out of her thoughts when her name was called, and looked around, wondering what the hell had happened while she was thinking. "Please take us as your disciples!" Al repeatedOh, so that was what was going on...Well, their Life Quest had been stuck for two years now, and they did need an alchemy teacher."It would be good of you to take us on as apprentice." she agreed sedately A bit surprised by the calm voice in the shouting contest she was having with Edward, Izumi turned toward her and asked "Why do you three want to learn alchemy so much?""To protect those precious to me." Ari answered without missing a beat, a hard look in her eyes – after all, she had already lived enough life to know that far too often the only mean to keep her precious people safe was to take the fight to the enemy"To make life better for peoples!" Edward answered resolutely – and it was true for him, for he really did believe that transmuting their mother back would be the first step toward this; after all people would be happy if they could get back their loved ones, wouldn't they?The reasoning was a bit naïve of course but - Edward was only nine year old.As for Al, he stammered, not having an answer ready – and it made Ari smile softly, for this was the normal reaction for a child this age. Her brother was young, and didn't have the elder's iron will, but in time, he would find his own path too, she didn't doubt it. Still, it seemed that the two answers she had gotten had been enough to make Izumi pause, and she asked softly "And what do your parents think of this?""They are orphans." granny Pinako, not far from them, stated "I'm their guardians." Something flashed through the dark-haired woman's eyes, so fast Ari nearly missed it – pain – and after letting out a long sigh, she huffed "Well, looks like I've got no choice." she squat in front of them "One month trial, and I'll decide if I take you on." she announcedSeeing the boys smile growing, she warned "You have to prove to me in this month that you've got what it takes for me to teach you." "If we can't make it?" Al asked, voice trembling a bit"I sent you back here immediately.""And if we make it?" Ari prodded"Then I will officially train you three.""Granny!" Ed shouted toward Pinako "We won't be back in a month!""I knew you would say that." their old neighbor nodded with a satisfied smile ¤.¤.¤ [Goal complete! +10XPGoal update: pass the trial][Level up! You are now level 10!+2CP, +1SP, +1PP][Perk available:- Science Nerd: double rate of learning Scientific and Alchemical Skills- Smooth Talker: double rate of learning Communication and Awareness Skills- Natural Killer: double rate of learning Weapon and Range Skills- Jack of All Trade: gain 1 rank in each Skill at each birthday (note that you'll only gain half rank on slow growing skills, and two rank on fast growing skills, also works retroactively)] Somehow, Ariana felt both elation and dread when the notification appeared – on one hand, they were moving forward once more, which was good after years stagnating in Rosembool, lacking a teacher to help them progress further.But it was also bad, as it meant one more step toward her brothers goal of making a homunculus. Within hours, the Elric siblings had packed light bags and Paws and Padfoot by their side, they were boarding the train toward Dublith, their new master's hometown in the South Region, and as the initial excitement finally calmed down, Ed and Al were soon crashing down under her indulgent eyes – while she used the down time to get back to the perks unlocked earlier, finally settled on the Jack of All Trade one, prompting a new notification... [Skills updated!][Perk unlocked:Open Mind 1/4(Scientific Knowledge 25): +1 IntelligenceBattle Master 1/4(Ground 25): +1 StrengthSurvivor 2/4 (Survival 50): +2 EnduranceBenevolent Sage 3/4 (Awareness 75): +4 Wisdom][Main Characteristics updated!] ¤.¤.¤ "Are you sure you aren't the eldest?" Izumi asked, amused at the antics of the two boys that had finally fallen asleep "The loud-mouth sure doesn't look like it!""Ed is hot-headed, but he takes care of us well." Ari contradicted "Don't underestimate him, or any of us." she warned, eyes taking on a challenging glint "So, the villagers were saying you healed me with alchemy?""Alkahestry." she corrected "I started studying it when mom fell sick.""But not your brothers?""Not as much.""So... mind telling me why it is that you can to alchemy, or alkahestry, without circle?" At the sudden darkening of the couple's mood, Ari was confused – apparently, the ability to bypass the circles seemed to mean much more to them that to her..."No idea." she answered honestly "I just stumbled on it by luck, and have been able to do it ever since."The couple shared a surprised glance – perking up her curiosity "So... why is it so important to you?" she went on asking "After all, you can do it too, can't you?""I can." she nodded "And I paid a heavy price for it.""Your missing organs..." she breathed, things suddenly making sense – if she had lost them in a transmutation gone wrong and her circle-less transmutation was gained as a result, no wonder she worried about how Ari had gotten her own ability "How do you know about it?" Izumi wondered, surprised"Well I did heal you.""And you saw in seconds what most doctors don't see before it's nearly thrown in their face?" she asked sceptically"Normal doctors don't have alkahestry."Izumi felt that the little girl in front of her wasn't telling her everything, but like most Amestrian Alchemists, she didn't know a lot about alkahestry, and so she let it slide – if she took them as apprentices in the coming month she would have all the time needed to probe a bit more. Of course, the little brat just had to stun her once more by asking "So... Since you're an alchemist, do you know anything about a Gate of Alchemy? Or Truth?"Her suspicious were back right away "Are you mocking me?" she glared "You say you don't know how you got your ability then you ask about this?""So it is linked?"Izumi frowned – the surprised was genuine, and it didn't make any sense. "The gate, and truth, these are things my father talked about, but he didn't elaborate about it.""So your father saw the gate, but not you?""I... guess?" she hesitated, not really knowing what was the point in the question"Did you have any big accident when you where a child?" Ariana was definitely lost now – who knew that asking a question could result in so much confusion..."No." she answered nevertheless "So, do you intend to answer me you do just plan on asking unrelated questions and carry on looking at me as if you suspected me of gods only know what.""The gate is what stands between Truth and us. And as long as you don't do anything stupid with your alchemy, you'll be lucky enough not to see either of them." was Izumi's clipped answer Well, that didn't explain anything – still, Ariana let it go, because it was clear that their new master didn't like the topic, and it seemed stupid to antagonize her anymore before they even started training.When they arrived in Dublith, they had been directly taken to lake Kauroy, a large heart-shaped lake with a small island, named Jake island, in the middle of it.A small island they were soon stranded on. "This is a wild island," Izumi had said while throwing a large knife at Ed "No electricity, no wells, no house, wild beasts everywhere." at this point of the description, Al didn't look too easy "You have to stay on this island for a month and survive by your own means... No alchemy!" she stated happilyAs she was already on board the small boat that had taken them on the island, she parted with a "All is one, One is all! If you can't answer this riddle at the end of the month, I'll sent you home! Bye!" Ari was perched on a high branch, looking at her two brothers a few meters below. They had been floured at the sudden challenge – and honestly, for eight and nine year old children, this was quite harsh.Of course, Izumi wasn't that heartless, as Ariana could already feel the pull of another soul nearby – someone had been sent to keep an eye one them, and make the challenge even harder. Truth be told, the challenge wasn't all that hard for the little girl – because the basic lesson it aimed to teach was one she had learned long ago - lifetimes ago.But she wasn't alone, and so she'd have to make her brothers find, and more importantly understand the answer. "That evil old hag!" her eldest brother was tempesting "There's no way this is training for alchemy!""Let's sleep," Al suggested "We'll need to be rested to explore the island and find food tomorrow.""Do you really think that sleeping out in the open in the middle of the forest is a good idea?" Ari asked dubiously, jumping down from her tree"What do you mean?" "Well, teacher did say there are wild animals roaming the island. And I'm pretty sure that right now we look like lunch for carnivorous beasts."Ed and Al eyes widened at the affirmation, then they shared a glance "Well, what should we do then? We do need to sleep...""Why don't we set a guard!" Edward shouted, suddenly struck by the idea"But how can we know how much time has gone by?" Al wondered, before answering his own question "A moon-dial!" Soon, a basic dial was drawn on the ground, and Al and Ari were curling on a bed of leaves for the night while Ed took the first watch, drawing calculations on the ground to keep himself awake.Hours went by, and avoiding to fall asleep was getting harder, as the moment to wake Al up drew closer, when a noise took him out of his musings – the next second, he was jumping out of the way of an attack while shouting "Al, Ari! Up!" His shout was punctuated by Padfoot's ferocious barks as the small dog put himself between his mistress and the tall attacking man covered in beast pelts and wearing a monster mask.Of course, the enemy wasn't afraid of the puppy, and aimed his heavy looking club toward him – only for the dog to be swept out of his way by a tiny hand as Ari saved her animal partner and launched herself toward the big man, weapon in hand – and where did this blade come from? Edward pushed the question out of his mind for now – he hadn't seen the flash of alchemy, yet he'd never seen the short yet beautiful blade his sister held. But the more impressive maybe was the fact that rather than trying to escape, she had jumped toward their assailant. ¤.¤.¤ "This is my island!" roared the beastly man while easily avoiding the little girl's attack, then sending her rolling with the back of one hand "All intruders will be terminated!""And this is my family!" Ari shouted back – and wasn't that a shock, calm small little Ari shouting? "And no one will kill them without facing me first!"Those words should have been laughable coming from such a small girl mused Ed, still in shock at the ferocious retort, yet they weren't – because those golden eyes that always seemed too old for a child now also seemed to burn with a resolve that shouldn't be mustered by someone so young. And just like that, Ed and Al recovered from their surprise, and Ed was the first to answer "Don't be stupid, Ari. We're the Elric siblings...""What we do, we do together!" Al completed And suddenly, they were jumping, Al sending the leaves used as a mattress flying as Edward grabbed his sister's hand "Now, let's run!" he affirmedAfter a moment of surprise, Ari answered with a large smile, and a few moment later, they were hidden in a large tree's trunk.The three siblings waited in silence, as they heard the heavy steps of their assailant pacing around for a while before retreating – and now that she was calming down, Ari noticed, to her shame, what she hadn't when she'd been woken up in the middle of the attack...Their assailant didn't emit any killer intent, and her Soul Art was telling her it was the man sent by Izumi herself. No wonder she hadn't been woken up - there never was any real danger. It looked like the alchemist wanted them to learn to fight on top of learning to survive.A smile crept on her face – finally, things were getting exciting! By the time the sun was up, her brothers had found their earlier fear replaced by resolve, and soon, they were putting the knife given by Izumi and Ari's own blade to good use, crafting a simple trap..."Anyway, I didn't got the chance to ask earlier..." Ed asked Ari was wilting a branch "But where does this come from?""I took it from dad's study.""Never saw it there." Al muttered, surprised "It was in a locked drawer." she shrugged "This is Fuurinkiba, a traditional coming of age weapon from an old country." she lied, having had time to think about what she'd say – it wasn't like she could say 'this is a weapon gifted to me by a kitsune in a previous life' could she? "I took it when teacher told us to make our bags. Dad always said that the world is a dangerous place...""It's like dad saved us in a way." Al smiled "Bullshit, that bastard of a father didn't do anything," Ed contradicted "Its Ari who saved us, not this man."The coming argument was cut short as Padfoot barked happily, dragging them toward their trap, in which a rabbit was wiggling and trying to set himself free..."Yay! We caught food!" Al crowed happily"And with such a simple trap!"Ari watched as the logical realization downed on her brothers "But...what do..." Al started"We have to kill it." affirmed Ed, knife in hand ¤.¤.¤ And though his hand was trembling, he tried to steady himself for what was to come – his little sister stood up in front of a man who wanted to kill them the day before, surely he could do something as simple as killing a rabbit to eat it! With that he steadied his hand, and plunged the knife it to the struggling animal, ending it's life.Getting to start a fire, and figuring how to skin and gut the meat wasn't easy, but they finally managed – not without attracting the attention of a fox, that was ghosting a few meters away from them, visibly attracted with the discarded guts that had been left out for Padfoot but not daring approaching further. "What is it doing here?" Al wondered curiously"Maybe he was hunting the rabbit we got." his sister suggested without stopping preparing the meat, but her skill with beast language letting her catch something about 'food for the den' - fox language resembled a lot dog language after all"You mean we stole its meal?" her brother asked, suddenly feeling bad"Probably." his sister nodded "Or maybe its a female whose got kits, who knows." seeing his eyes widening "But don't mistake it... Even if we hadn't caught, we don't know if the rabbit wouldn't have manage to escape it. And this fox wouldn't pause before hunting Paws." "But...""That's how nature works." the little girl shrugged as she stepped away from the fire "Carnivores eats herbivores, the strong eat the weak...""Its horrible." her brother mumbled despondently "It's so cruel.""Ah, but then again, when this fox dies, its body will be used to gives nutriments to the grass and plants, and herbivore eat the grass and plants." her eyes lightened with amusement as she quoted "It's the Circle of Life!" If she never had the chance to be a child as Harriet Potter, she caught up as Sawada Kazami, and as she grew up to become the Vongola Shadow, one of her Guardians had found an unending source of inspiration for the illusions he weaved in all sorts of animation, Disney included – thanks to that she now knew quite well a lot of animation works...As for her brothers, who of course didn't know from where she'd gotten the quote, they were thinking about the words themselves. "It makes sense," Ed started as he accepted a skewer with his share of the mealThey didn't have time to hear more about his thoughts – as with a whooshing sound, a club landed in the middle of the fire, and their opponent from the day before was back. Taking advantage of the chaos, the fox that had been lurking jumped toward the skewer the eldest Elric sibling had let go of, and disappeared with it under Padfoot's ferocious barks.As for Ari, she hurriedly swallowed the meat she'd already bit into, and took out Fuurin with her left hand, an amused smile on her lips – time to grind on her fighting skills. ¤.¤.¤ "What are you doing!" Al protested"It's not like he's going to let us go without a fight!" she answered back, then, as the mad grabbed her middle brother's share of their hard won meal, merrily biting at the meat while dodging her attack "Or without stealing our food..." this gained the man a furious glare from EdAnd with that, the two boys joined the fray, clumsily but wildly for Ed, more hesitantly for Al.By the time their assailant finally seemed to grow tired to play around with them and they managed to get away, they had managed to share Ari's skewer between them, taking turns with one eating and the other two keeping the wild man from him, but the portion had been far from enough for growing children like they were – even more so that all that fighting had opened their appetite... "Let's try fishing!" an exhausted Ed suggested, not feeling ready yet to end the life of another rabbit, and too tired to do muchThe other two nodded, the idea of not moving for a while equally appealing to them. Within a few hours, they had managed to catch a few fishes and eaten without being ambushed by the other inhabitant of the island, and Ari jumped on her feet, already feeling better "Now, let's see what we can do for tonight!" And so, day after day, they fought against the fourth inhabitant of the island, struggled to catch food and not have it stolen, be it by the wild life or the wild man, went through chaotic nights as that same man attacked them at any hours."I don't understand..." an exhausted Al groaned while staring at the fire where their meal was cooking "What does this hellish survival got to do with alchemy?""I've been thinking about what Ari said that first day..." Ed mused "When you worried about that fox..."Al glanced at his brother, not really seeing where the boy was going. "What you said," Ed was now looking at his sister "You weren't only talking about that fox, weren't you?"At that, his sister smiled, and he jumped to his feet shouting, more stunned than angry "I can't believe it! You knew! Since the beginning!""What are you talking about, brother?" Al asked, bewildered by his brother's shouts and his sister's laugh"Carnivore eat herbivore, who eat grass, who gets its nutriments from carnivores bodies, the Circle of Life!""Yes?" "Well, its the same for us, isn't it?" stated Ed "We are at the top of the food chain after all! But we'll still die in the end, and our bodies will be food for the grass...""Yew!" protested Al, a bit disgusted at the idea, yet starting to see what his brother was talking about"This world is large, and we're but small existence within it," Ari stated simply, ignoring Ed grumbling about the word 'small' as she was well used about his testiness when size was mentioned "Yet it's all those small existences in the world that put together makes it alive!" "Oh..." Al smiled "In other words, each life, no matter how small...""Don't use this word!""Calm down brother...""We are all part of this whole cycle of life, following the rules of this world. And even alchemy has to follow these rules..." Ari smiled – then Al turned toward her, interrogative "But why didn't you tell us if you knew?""But I did tell you." a smile "You just had to understand."Ed let himself drop to the ground, grumbling "How is it that the youngest among us is the wisest?""My soul is older." his sister answered with a smile ¤.¤.¤ After that, the rest of the month went by quickly – both Padfoot and Paws learned to hunt for their meal too, and were often competing with the vixen they'd seen on the first day, then her kits, as it turned out Ari had been right and it was a mother; the three siblings fighting and surviving skills grew tremendously too even if Ari always seemed to pick on things faster, which frustrated her brothers to no end..."You always pick-up book smart faster than me," she explained with a smile "And I pick up things faster when doing them, so of course I'm progressing faster." Ed pouted – and Al smiled, amused at his siblings antics, and threw his bone to the nearby kits, who happily jumped on them.As for Padfoot, he was finishing his own meal, neatly licking the blood off his muzzle; and boy hadn't the two brothers felt queasy the first time they saw the dog eat his own hunted meal... At moments like that, Al couldn't help but wonder if Ari hadn't been right the day she told them she had an old soul, because her reaction had been far too accepting for a little girl.And the fact that of the three of them she seemed to enjoy fighting the more was weird too! But no matter – the month was over. The three siblings smiled as they finished their meal, and the foxes around them went into hiding as the small boat that had dropped them thirty day earlier came back for them, Izumi gracefully jumping on the shore "So, brats! Do you have an answer for me?""All is the world!" Al stated"And one is me!" Ed affirmedSeeing their serious stares, Izumi snorted, then stated "Get to the boat then, the real training will start!" [Goal complete! +10 XPGoal update: complete Izumi Curtis's training][System log: Izumi Curtis is now your teacher, when learning from her you rank up four times as fast in Alchemy Skills and twice as fast in Weapon and Range Skills][Level up! You are now level 12!+1SP] ¤.¤.¤ The siblings rejoiced together, and ran toward the boat – then stopped net, as a figure suddenly plopped into said boat calmly..."What the..." Al whispered"I had fun!" Ariana stated, reaching out for a handshake "I'm Ariana Elric, and you?""What the hell..." this time, it was Ed "Ah! I knew you'd seen through it!" the wild man laughed, pulling of his man to reveal a cheerful face and dark hair"He's an employee at our store." Izumi added"I'm Mason," said employee answered at the little girl unanswered question "I was there to make sure you didn't die... Not that you really needed it, you boys sure are lucky to have a little sister like that!""Of course we know that!" Ed answered with a glare at the man, grabbing his sister to take her away from the far too friendly employee – said employee laughing at his reaction "So... You knew he wasn't really trying to kill us?" Al asked at his sister"He had no killer intent." the little girl answered, gaining a sharp glance from Izumi "And he held back every time.""And you said nothing..." her brother protested"Well, I was having fun..."Al merely groaned at the answer "Why am I surprised? After all you are the one who knew the answer to this riddle from the get go yet let us sweat about it for nearly two weeks!" he rolled his eyes, missing the second glance Izumi sent toward his sister "Ari, you've hid it well for years, but I've pierced your secret! You're a sadistic who loves to make her brothers suffer!" "This is my way of showing love!" the girl retorted happily"Arg..." Izumi protested as the boat was pulling away from Jake island "Kids that age shouldn't even know what this word means!""Ah... But I'll miss the kits..." sighed Ari forlornly as she realized they were awayAs she said this, a few yips gained the attention of the boat occupants, and they saw that said kits and their mother were on the shore, as if to say goodbye. "These foxes really took a liking to you." Mason laughed – Ari smiled, as the man didn't realized how right he was; apparently even worlds apart, canine still recognized her as an alpha vixen and tended to like her, which was one of the reasons the small family had gotten used to them so much ¤.¤.¤ Sleeping in a warm bed and eating a homemade meal for the first time in weeks had been truly heavenly, and the next day, they had began to train under Izumi in earnest.The alchemist, as was made clear with the stint on the lake, was of the opinion that to train the mind, one had to start by training the body, as such she had the strange habit of lecturing them while beating them into the ground. The more vexing of it all was probably the way she was able to read when she was teaching from a book, while still being able to prevent them from laying a hand on her. She also got into shouting match with Edward regularly, but well, the siblings already knew that their eldest had what appeared to be a gift for pissing people off...By the end of the first week, when they had their first down-time, Ari sneaked off, borrowing Mason's boat, and went back to Jake island to play with the foxes, which she had really missed – by the time she was back to the shore, Izumi was waiting for her, amused at her escapade. Izumi was intrigued by Ariana – or rather, the girl was a walking enigma that the alchemist wanted to unravel. Her interest had been perked up in Rosembool, what with the girl's ability to do circle-less alchemy and alkahestry, the train had confirmed her interest, between her questions and her unexpected knowledge. The report Mason made of the island only added to it...No normal child should have understood her enigma so fast, or adapted to surviving on the island so well and things probably wouldn't have gone half as well for the siblings without her. When adding all the strange things about the girl, she had come to an hypothesis."Are you a successful homunculus?"The revulsion on the little blond wasn't feigned, and surprising – she had thought her idea would be either confirmed, or the girl wouldn't even have known what she was talking about – disgust hadn't been expected. "The dead cannot be brought back," she affirmed "Once a soul's link with its body is broken, it wont come back." she added "Ever."The finality with which the little girl was strangely reassuring, and Izumi's thoughts strayed to her own biggest mistake... "Is this what you talked about when you said you'd paid the price for your circle-less alchemy?" the girl asked softly, eyes full of compassion "Is it why you put such an emphasis on the fact that human alchemy isn't to be attempted?""How can you be so perceptive when you're so young?" Izumi wondered"I've got an old soul." the girl answered with a smile "A soul can't be put back in its old body, but it can regain a new one...""You are talking about reincarnation..." understood Izumi, surprised to hear something sounding so religious from the sister of the boy who affirmed there wasn't a god"It's just another life." Ariana smiled, before her smile faltered "But just like you made your mistake, some have to fall on their own before understanding they were wrong..." Izumi hadn't understood that day, but as days became weeks and months, and she kept on meeting the girl on the lake's shores, she began to put things together. Edward was a stubborn and highly intelligent child, and Al was still too kind – and they still missed their mother so much it nearly hurts physically to realize it, that much was easy to understand when living with them.And even thought Ariana never said anything outright, when six months had gone by and she deemed the children ready to continue studying by themselves, Izumi had a feeling that the next time she saw them, she wouldn't be the only one to have seen the Truth. ¤.¤.¤ It wasn't a good feeling, but just like the little blond girl had said, this was a mistake she couldn't prevent them from making – stating she knew about their goal would only make the boys turn against their sister, and they couldn't be watched at every hour to keep them from trying.No the only thing she could do was try to make them understand how stupid it was to try this, something she tried during the six months she taught them without success.And now, she would pray that they came out of their mistake better off than she had. And so, six months after they left Rosembool, Izumi and her husband were dropping them at the train station to go back to their hometown... [Goal complete! +10XPGoal update: reach Earth Alchemy 50][Goal complete!+10 XPGoal update: craft homunculus ritual][Level up! You are now level 14!+2SP] Ariana closed her eyes tiredly at the onslaught of notification, willing them to disappear while desperately wishing her teacher had managed to beat it into her boys that reviving the dead was impossible.And for the first time, she too cursed their father – hadn't she warned him not to go away for too long? Didn't four year count for far too long? Maybe Ed wouldn't have become fixated on reviving their mother if Von Hohenheim had come home earlier... "Just because you've completed training doesn't mean you should let your skills drop, brats! If I hear you've become lazy I'll come and beat your asses into shape!" threatened Izumi, making the boys whitenthen, just as the train was about to leave, Mason came running "Oh just in time!" he plopped something in the youngest Elric hands "Here, Ari!" surprised, she recognized one of the by now nearly adult fox, who gave her the equivalent of a grin for a canine and yipped amicably at Padfoot, who answered in kind With that, the train started, just as Ed groaned "Great! We are becoming a fucking menagerie!"The three siblings arrived back in Rosembool just before the end of the year, which they spent with Winry and Pinako. Their childhood friend was happy to see them again, and not wanting to be left behind had furthered her studies in automail mechanics – she was still far away from being able to outfit someone with her work, but considering she was only nine year old, what she could already do really was impressive.Of course, Ari soon guessed that just like her and her brothers immersed themselves in alchemy after their mother's death, Winry used mechanic to help the ache of loosing both her parents fade... ¤.¤.¤ War. At first, there was only unrest in the region, the Ishvalian being so very different from the Amestrians – then racism and tensions grew – and with one soldier accidentally shooting a child, things escalated into rebellion, and war.Ishval was a harsh land, covered in rocks and sand, with a harsh people living according to the strict religious precepts of their god.When rebellion escalated into war, they soon feel into guerrilla tactics, and the conflict was drawn out. What started in 1901 was still ongoing in 1908, and the neighboring region was beginning to suffer for it.And by spring 1908, Fuhrer Bradley enacted Order 3066, sending the State Alchemists to purge Ishval. "So you're here too, eh!"Roy wasn't really surprised to see his old military academy friend – after all, there were a lot of the forces assembled in Ishval, especially so since Order 3066 was enacted; the State Alchemist may be the main weapon used to burn Ishval to the ground, they still needed a team behind them to handle the cleaning and ensure nothing had been overlooked.What he really regretted was the new shadows in Maes Hughes eyes. "I've got them too now," his friend smiled, resigned and having guessed at his thoughts "And I understand better what you meant at the academy too.." a sigh "We both talked about this country's future, and how we'd built a better future for the young generation, but you were the only one who really understand what it meant, weren't you." he affirmed rather than askedRoy eyes darkened – with this unnatural understanding he'd had since his childhood about the harshest realities of life, he had known it would only be a mater of time until all the people he'd met at the academy lost their innocence - yet he still mourned it. What he didn't expect was to see even his old teacher's daughter here. "I'm only a first year, but since my school is in the East I was sent here." she was explaining while cleaning up her sniper rifle – the Hawk's Eye, people were calling her, and just like Maes her eyes had changed "How could you still enroll when you already understood what it would be like?" she asked, weariness audible in her words"Alchemy is for the people," he quoted with a snort "Right now, alchemists are either holing up in the country spending their life researching and helping on a small scale, or enrolled in the military and used as weapon pointed at whomever the Fuhrer deems the enemy..." his eyes darkened briefly "And our Fuhrer deems a lot of people the enemy..." "People enroll to protect our country, yet look at us, ordered to kill this nation civilians... Ishvalian may have a different culture but they're still a part of Amestris, the situation should have never escalated to what it is now..." Riza stated with a despondent sigh "We have all become killers..." there were no tears – these had been dried a long time ago"And its not like the situation is any better elsewhere, the West and the South too are ripe with tensions, the simple fact that so much of the military have been sent here to commit a genocide is against any logic." Maes added"Which is exactly why change must be brought from the inside." "To bring change, you'll need to be at the very top." Maes noted "That's quite the dream.""It's not a dream," the alchemist corrected with a smile that reflected the fire in his eyes "Its an ambition. One I intend to realize.""Fuhrer Mustang, eh?" Maes laughter drily "It does have a nice ring to it, but this isn't something you'll be able to do alone.""Ah, but I'm not alone, am I?"His academy friend smiled back, hope mingling with the shadows "No, you're not." ¤.¤.¤ Riza's eyes widened – the shadows in Capitan Maes eyes had lightened, and suddenly, she understood better what her father had told his students before dying "Don't regret nor take pride in the blood you spill" indeed.Killing couldn't be taken back, and regretting it was only lessening the worth of the life taken, just as taking pride in it was would lesser your own value as a human being. But this man – Roy Mustang – he already knew and understood that it was inevitable for the path he'd chosen, and accepted it. Someone like that she could follow. The Ishval war had changed them – all of the soldiers on the battlefield.Monsters had been uncovered, reveling in the blood and destruction, men had been broken by the atrocities they had been ordered to commit and the life they had taken, heroes had been born under their fellow soldiers' eyes.Roy had nearly laughed the first time he was called a hero – he knew he was but a killer, but to those that had survived thanks to him, there was no changing their opinion. He'd also gained two loyal allies in Maes Hughes and Riza Hawkeye, but they were only the beginning.Patiently, he assembled a trustworthy team around him. Kain Fuery, with a gift for communication technology and compassion toward those of lower rank than him.Vato Falman, a walking data bank, with a sharp mind and a talent for extracting any information available for an investigation.Heymans Breda, graduated at the top of his class at the academy, hiding his intelligence and kindness behind a shifty appearance.Jean Havoc, a hard-working man and good leader who overcame his slow-mind through sheer will, highly skilled and strong. While he worked his way through the ranks and gained in reputation in the East, Maes was affected to the Investigations in Central City – yet they still called each other nearly every week, friendship stronger than ever and the promise to get to the top never forgotten.As for Riza, she was by his side at every moment, heart still bleeding from the harsh awakening to the realities of the country they lived in yet mind made precisely because of it.If she had to kill and loose sleep at night in order for the next generation to live in a better world, then she would. Chapter III: 1909-1910 The end of the Ishval war had been good for Rosembool – the small village was in the East after all, and they had a few of the flocks that supplied military-grade wool. As such they had suffered from several attacks over the years, and now they were finally free of the fear.The three Elric siblings helped around as much as they could, which was a lot more than before they went to train with Izumi – and they worked day and night on creating a circle that would work to transmute a human being. And even though she disapproved, Ari still helped, because she'd rather help and be there to rescue them if – when – needed that let them go through it alone and come out of it having paid a far too heavy price. Still, because her disapproval was so obvious, tension grew high between her and her brothers as time went by, even sweet Al starting to snap at her as their studies took more and more time. So when tensions sky-rocketed, Ari would retreat for a while to the Rockbell's house, where she would study a bit with Winry – she was of course far less skilled than the older girl, but she still knew the basics about automail by now, as her friend was always happy to talk about it and brag about the progress made around the country, or the famous mechanics. Most of the time, Al was the one to calm down first and would help Ed and Ari to talk again – which often ended in a three-way all out brawl between themselves before they got back to their studies. One unexpected consequence of studying to craft an alchemy ritual to bring back their mother was that her Hallows skill had started to progress. And this really didn't sit well with Ariana – after all, she had died at only thirty-three year old as Sinclair Kazami precisely because her Hallows skill had leveled up too fast, which in turn had put a strain on her body since that skill was Chaos' Game interpretation of her divine powers, something not made for the Mortal Realms.Just like she had easily mastered Soul Art in her previous life when it had been speculated she would need at least two life to learn it, Blood Art was coming naturally to her – and in two years, she had gained 5 ranks of it out of the 25 ranks she could learn. Yet, just like in her previous life, she already knew that if she had to, she would use it to help her brothers – even thought using godly powers in this world so thoroughly cut off from the Immortal Realms was much more dangerous than it had been to use them on Earth. Another thing Ari concluded was that her unique way of doing alchemy was probably linked to the way she had come to this world – as her soul wasn't wiped clean at birth like normal humans were, she had seen the gate between the other realms and this one, though at the time she hadn't linked it with alchemy - but between Von Hohenheim and Izumi's non-answers about the Gate they talked about, she was starting to think it was one and the same thing. And that alchemists that tried to mess with human life found themselves metaphorically knocking at said door and left with a bit more knowledge – and a heavy fine; just like their teacher. Which would explain why no amount of explanation could help someone who hadn't seen that door to understand how circle-less alchemy worked. They still lacked "True knowledge" as Izumi had put it when Edward had asked why she could use alchemy without circle. Finally, by the fall of 1910, Edward clapped his hands resolutely "Done." [Goal complete!+10XPGoal update: activate the human alchemy circle][Level up! You are now level 23!+1SP] Ariana acknowledged the quest update with a sigh. While she loved her two brothers more than anything else in this world, she keenly missed Tsunayoshi, and the easy acceptance toward her strangeness, because in her previous life, she hadn't been the only one to play Chaos' Game.But Ed and Al were alchemists before anything else, and knowing about this gift would be met with skepticism and a plethora of uncomfortable questions – and anyway, the Party System was still locked. Loneliness was strange in that it could be felt even when you weren't alone...As if reading her mind, Padfoot and Tempesta – the name given to the fox Mason gave her – were suddenly by her side, leaning fondly against her while she watched her boys celebrate the completion of years of hard work with a bittersweet smile. They had used the basement of the house to prepare the ingredients and make space for the large and complex circle, which was checked for errors several times, and finally – all too soon– they were ready. [Goal complete!+10 XPGoal update: survive][Level up! You are now level 24!+1SP] Ari gulped, as the alchemical flash glowed an unearthly dark purple, energy swirling around them... ¤.¤.¤ "Brother!" stammered Al "Something isn't right!"The next moment, their three animal companions howls were heard, as Ed's eyes widened "A rebound." Then, came pain, and the feeling that their bodies were torn apart.Whiteness, and a tall gate inscribe with a large alchemical array was all Edward could see."Al? Ari?" Cautiously, he approached the tall doors, wondering what was hidden behind – the next moment, said doors slammed open, and darkness and terror seized him, dragging him thought the door – and an unknown voice laughed as he screamed "Be quiet, ignorant fool! Isn't it what you wanted?" he could hear the smile in the voice "True knowledge!"He felt as if an eternity had been spent into the darkness, knowledge crammed into his head and body feeling as if it would break. And suddenly, he was back into the whiteness. "So, how does it feel?""Like true knowledge..." he admitted "Our theory on human transmutation wasn't wrong, it just wasn't enough! I just need to see more!""Ah, that's not possible laughed the nearly invisible silhouette not far from him "You can have only so much with this passage fee!""Passage fee?" he repeated blankly"That right..." a terrifying smile "Passage fee. Equivalent trade you know, right, alchemist boy?" Then there was pain, and he was back to their house basement – alone, and bleeding from the stump of his missing left leg, with an inhuman monstrosity twitching and covered in blood in lieu of their mother, his kind brother Al's clothing visible, but the boy nowhere to be seen, and not a single trace of his little sister. "Al, Ari, Mom..." he whispered, already weakening from the blood-loss "It wasn't supposed to be like this..."His eyes darkened, as he refused to cry – what right had he to cry when he was the one who started all this? what time had he to waste with tears when he had siblings to rescue from his own foolishness?He forced his hand to steady themselves and drew an alkahestry circle, suddenly wishing that he'd spent more time on it just like Ari had wanted them too; the circle wasn't a work of art, but it did roughly close the bleeding stump.He had no time to loose by passing out because of blood loss. "My... fault..." In his back, Padfoot, Paws and Tempesta were still howling and yowling, and he vaguely wondered if the planks they'd put in the way to prevent the animals from coming into the room and hamper the transmutation would hold. Looking around for his next step, his eyes fell on the old set of full-body armor. Refusing to hear his body's protests, he dragged the heavy iron parts to the ground, writing a rune in his blood before clapping his hands together. "A leg or an arm, I don't care about the bloody price! Give me back my family! You can even have my heart if you want!"As the alchemy glowed once more, Edward just had the time to see a few blurs come between him and the armor, then the white was back. "That fool came back for more!" laughed the now familiar voice"Don't talk about my brother like that." bit back an annoyed voice, far colder than usual "I told you he'd be back for us."And indeed, Edward was back, albeit surprised to see both his sister and brother waiting for him by Truth's side. ¤.¤.¤ "I've come to take my family back!""Yes, yes," sighed the gatekeeper tiredly "The three of you really are tiresome, all about family taking care of each other and all that yammering..." then turning toward Al "Well, seems like your brother paid for your soul and your sister is ready to pay for the rest, aren't you a lucky lad?"At that, Ed turned toward Ari, wondering what the invisible being meant – but then, the blurs of earlier were suddenly there, and the three siblings could only watch in awe as Padfoot, Paws and Tempesta were suddenly in front of them, growling at the gatekeeper. "Oh," laughed said gatekeeper "Now, this is funny!" he turned back toward them "An animal ready to pay the price for a human's mistake, this isn't something I've seen before!""What!"protested Al "No! What's the point of trying to bring someone back if all we're doing is sacrificing others for it?""So you would put so much value in an animal life?" Ed really despised how entertained the invisible being seemed to be with the situation – this wasn't a matter for laughing, this was his family's life that were at stake! "I already told you I'd meet you price." Ari calmly stated before Al could answer "So don't involve them in this.""Ah, but I can't you see... Every being that comes to the gate must pay a fee after all."What happened next, Edward couldn't understand – as suddenly, power was whirling around his sister, giving off a feeling so strange it could only be compared to Truth otherworldly feeling. "Stop messing around, Truth!" said being smile disappeared "State your prices.""Well, if you're taking it like that, Shadow." he made a movement toward Edward – pain came, as his arm was suddenly gone "For your brother's soul." another movement toward Al and the same arm was gone "For seeing the truth, and your passage fee." another gesture, and it was the animals that were lacking a limb "As passage fee, and since equivalent exchange must be met, I'll grant you familiar link to your chosen master." "You do realize that Padfoot already is my familiar.""Of course, Shadow." Truth answered in a mocking tone "I've granted him knowledge too." at that, Ed startled – knowledge to a dog? But Ari merely nodded, and the next moment she was missing her right arm too "The arm as passage fee, and as for your brother's body..." his smile widened "20 ranks." Edward and Alphonse shared a glance, wondering what he meant by that – but Padfoot whine informed them that it wasn't something good, as they had come to understand a long time ago that the dog was far more intelligent than he ought to be..."Done." nodded their sister who visibly had understood what the strange being meant ¤.¤.¤ "Wait a minute!" protested Ed "What about Ari's return?""Oh, I wasn't keeping her here from the start." the gatekeeper informed him "She was just bargaining for your brother sooner than you." an amused laugh "After all, she already knew that your attempt was doomed, so she was ready for the consequences, weren't you, little Shadow..."Edward head fell in shame – because it was right, Ari had spent years telling them this wasn't a good idea, and he'd seen the result; the thing that was lying dying in their basement wasn't even human, they hadn't even managed a correct body, not to speak of bringing their mother's soul back. And all he'd done when their sister had tried to prevent them from making this mistake was getting angry at her countless times – yet she had still stuck with them and prepared to take care of the mess he'd been the one to instigate.It wasn't right – why was she the one paying for his mistakes?"Please don't sow anymore chaos in my world, Shadow." Truth commented before sending them backAriana answered him by an icy cold look "I'll sow all the chaos needed to protect my family and take them through their destiny." As the whiteness faded, Edward briefly wondered what she meant by this – then Truth's voice echoed on last time "Ah, I can still give you a bit more of knowledge for your price can't I?" a second of amused silence "Between ten and fifteen years, alchemist boy. That's how long your sister has left. That's the price she paid." With that, he was back in their basement, his family around him – but they were bleeding out, and somehow, they still couldn't do alchemy one-handed like Ariana could – so once more, he had to see her take care of his mistake, rushing between them to cauterize the bleeding wounds. As for his sister – she was resolutely ignoring her latest notifications... [Life Quest complete! +10 XP3 beginner skill tomes added to your inventory][Hallows skills reached rank 50!Blood Art unlocked!][Seeing the Truth Perk(+5 to all knowledge) unlocked][skills updated!][Mystical Guru 2/4(Mystic Knowledge 50): +2 Wisdom, Perk unlocked][Blood Mark(+2Intelligence, +1Wisdom) added to Soul Imprint][Level up! You are now level 25!+2CP, +1SP] Finally, she turned toward the remnants of the cursed circle that had nearly killed their little brother and crippled them all, and put her remaining hand to the ground, making it all go up in flames. ¤.¤.¤ The next second, she was brutally dragged by the collar of her shirt "What the hell did you do, you idiots!"Vacantly, she noted that the man was wearing a military uniform and had a soul so familiar it hurts, especially with the fury she could read in those deep black eyes, so familiar yet not recognizing her.Then the man stumbled and let go of her, and her brothers were in front of her, Edward standing proudly despite lacking a leg, using Al to keep upright "Leave Ari alone!" he shouted protectively "Ari tried to stop us from doing it time and time again," added Al in a lower voice "yet we didn't listen, and now...""...now Ari has less than twenty years left to life and it's our fault!" shouted Ed, anger and self-loathing in his eyes – and his affirmation wasn't surprising Al either "That idiot Truth," she whispered with a soft sigh "He wasn't supposed to tell you that..."The soldier's eyes widened at the affirmation, then he muttered, compassion replacing the anger "What were you thinking, really, doing something like that?""We only wanted to see mum again..." Al mumbled sadly"I guess you know why human alchemy is forbidden now." the dark-haired man sighed "Will you denounce us?" Ed asked wary but ready to fight however he could to protect his family"What for?" the man asked back "All I can see is wounded children and a fire." a shrug "Hardly a surprising scene so close to Ishval..." a smirk "Beside it's not like it would be beneficial for me to give to put you in jail when I came all the way from East City to recruit you.""Recruit us?" Ed snorted darkly "You do realize I'm the oldest with my 11 year old?" the military really weren't ashamed of anything if they were trying to recruit kids now The other had the decency to look embarrassed "Ah yes, this is a case of incorrect information I'm afraid. The file I had on you three said the Elric brothers were in their thirty's...""The Elric brother's?" muttered Al to Ari"Well, I'm always wearing boy clothes..." muttered back his sister "So people out of the village must have mistaken me for a boy..." then she started to sway"Ari!" The next moment, their sister was falling unconscious, the Amestrian military recruiter catching her just before she touched the ground."Well," he sighed "Right now we should get you all treated." louder "Lieutenant Hawkeye, I could use a hand down here!""Granny Pinako's house is nearby." Al offered "She keeps an eye on us.""Not well enough." the man sighed, as the blond female officer arrived"Don't go blaming other's for a mistake I was the one to make!" Ed shouted The new arrival's gasp cut them before more could be said, and the dark-haired man said "Like you see we have a bit of a situation, if you could help me take these kids to their neighbor, lieutenant?""Of course, lieutenant-colonel." the other nodded"I can walk." Al affirmed, pushing a grumbling Ed toward her before crouching to pick up Tempesta and putting him on his brother's stomach, then putting Padfoot with his unconscious mistress and taking care of Paws himself"I can't believe even the pets got caught in it...""They tried to save us." Al admitted, shame in his voice and unable to really feel much of what was going on around him anymore ¤.¤.¤ It was a somber procession that made it's way to the Rockbell's.Seeing the bloody children the two soldiers were helping to her door, she ushered them inside quickly, taking them to the bathroom immediately."Do you need any help?" Riza volunteered to the small and old womanA pair of piercing eyes gazed at her a moment, them granny Pinako harrumphed "Not right now. Come tomorrow if you really need to talk to them." "Well, we were going to stay in town," she admitted "East city is a bit far for making it back in the same day.""Then come, I'll need to clean them up." then glancing at Mustang "As for you, just don't stay in my hair and we'll be alright."With that, the bathroom's door was slammed. A few moments latter, Winry came back – she had been sent to get medicine as soon as Pinako had seen the three Elric's state. After knocking at the bathroom door and giving the medicine, she turned toward the man, then after a moment hesitated than stated "You're here to take them away, aren't you?"Roy raised an eyebrow at the statement, and she continued "You'll take them away, just like you took my parents away in Ishval. I don't like the military."He snorted "You're just a whiny kid." he answered back, gaining a glare from her "Merely saying you don't like the military and doing nothing about it won't change anything!" he affirmed "I don't like the military either, I despise it!" "Then why are you a part of it!""How else am I suppose to change it to something better?" then looking at her seriously "As for your parents, just blaming the military for their death, isn't it insulting to them? Wasn't it their choice to go to Ishval?"Winry eyes widened – because he was right, of course; because she remembered her parents smiled as they explained to her that it was their duty to go and save as many people as possible; because she remembered how much they had loved being doctors... "You sure don't sound like a good recruiter for the military." a weak but amused voice stated"Ari!" Winry jumped out of her siege to take the smaller girl in her arms"Sorry for making you worry, Winry... and well, I have something to ask you...""Yes?""Make me automail.""What? Me? Don't you mean granny?" Ari shook her head "No. You." a smile "You've been practicing for years now, you'll need to have your first customer one day or another. I'll be your test subject!" and thrusting Padfoot forward "And for him too!""Automail for a dog?" couldn't help but parrot Roy, dubious"Padfoot isn't any mangy mutt." stated Ari fiercely "He's my familiar and has been following me since I was born!" He gave an unconvinced look at the puppy who didn't look old enough to be one year old, but Pinako, who was coming out with Ed, Al and Riza confirmed "That he has. Padfoot really is one special dog. Even if he is taking after Ed in term of growth.""Who the hell are you saying is so small a puppy could walk on him without even realizing it!""Well you're the only Edward in the room, aren't you!" ¤.¤.¤ At that, Al and Ari shared a small smile – Pinako always knew best how to make them feel better. Making small talk, they were soon seated in the kitchen, and Ari finally asked the question that had been burning her lips since earlier "So, since you clearly have no love for the military, what's your real reason for coming all the way out from East City to recruit three new talents, mister alchemist?"At that, Ed and Al spluttered, and finally noticed the silver chain of the State Alchemists pocket watch. "Who said I wasn't just doing my job?"Ari snorted "Yeah, right. You just said to Winry you wanted to change the military, so I don't see you acting for its current benefit."Riza and Roy shared a glance, surprised at the youngest Elric sharpness – prodigy they may be, but even genius child were still children.Yet this one – she had eyes far older than the other two. Finally, surprising even himself, Roy admitted "Changing the basis of a whole country isn't something I can do alone.""So you're gathering allies." Ari mused, before her eyes darkened "And what if things are far worse than you think?""I've already started on this path." Roy shrugged "If thing are worse, then I'll just fight harder.""Why are we even considering this?" Al asked "Right now, we can't even do normal things, let alone alchemy.""I've already asked Winry to make me an arm." Ari shrugged "I've no intention of spending the rest of my life mopping around." The affirmation put a damper on her brothers mood, then Ed suddenly turned toward the lieutenant-colonel "So, what does it mean, being a State Alchemist?"Roy smirked at the newly lit fire in the eldest eyes "I would be your sponsor to take the State Alchemist national exam, then if you pass you'll be put under my command. State Alchemist have access to more resources than anyone else: the military library, research labs, a yearly budget for bettering their skills and developing new techniques...""Brother..." Al started "So if there is any way to extend Ari's life, it's there that we'll find it.""Don't." even Roy was startled at the cold tone "I've said it for years when you tried to bring mother back, and I'll say it again since you don't seem to be able to bring yourself to understand: playing with life is the domain of the gods!" her brothers were taken aback by her vehemence, and guilt crept up as they saw tears finally gathering in her eyes, even though she hadn't cried when they lost their limbs, nor when she lost most of her life "I don't mind having a short life as long as we're together! I don't want you in the military to search for a cure for me! I want you in the military if you want to change this country!" And suddenly, Ed understood. "You know something about this don't you?" an hesitation "But then, why wouldn't you say anything about it?"She let out a shuddering breath.Somehow, it was only logical that it came to this, wasn't it? She had been born their sister because their destiny was tied to that of their country after all... "This is why dad left." she finally admitted, stunning Elric and Rockbell alike "I told you didn't I, that he didn't up and left without a good reason..." a sigh "Someone is meddling with the whole country, and that person needs to be stopped.""What kind of meddling are you talking about?" Roy asked Ari paused a moment, turning toward Pinako and Winry "If the wrong people come to know about this, you'll be in danger. Are you sure you want to hear it?""If you're in the middle of something dangerous, we'll be in danger anyway as the closest thing to family you've got left." Pinako shrugged "Talk.""And," Winry added, the young girl having found her resolution too "If we want to do anything about it, then we have to know, don't we?" And so, she told them what she knew of Von Hohenheim's story."This is..." Roy whispered, not having expected something of this size, not wanting to believe it – yet not able to bring himself not to believe it"After dad left, I looked a bit more into it. There are a lot of books in his studies, some of them the last remnants of Xerxes." she said "I don't speak the language, or well, I know only a few words... But alchemical diagram I can read." her eyes darkened "He was right. Our whole country has been born and expanded to become a giant circle." "Why didn't you say anything?" Ed asked"Would you have believed me?"He closed his eyes, feeling the guilt welling up once more – because of course he wouldn't have listened to her nor believed her. Standing before that gate and that bastard gatekeeper had changed them all, and he wouldn't have wanted to hear her out before. "So..." Al then asked "What do you want to do now?"A smile "Our father is an idiot who thinks he can save the world all alone, which is stupid even if he does have four centuries of knowledge as an advantage, the enemy has the exact same advantage, and the military of the country working for him." she stated, making Ed stumble – he was the one dissing their father usually "So let's see what we can do from the inside." "You do realize that automail surgery takes years to recover from." Pinako pointed out"Don't underestimate us Elric." Ari smirked, her brothers soon echoing her"One year!" Ed added with a determined smile "One year, and we're taking this damn exam!" he shouted to the man that had come to recuit them"So don't slack off on your own goals during this time, and don't get yourself killed." Al completed, resolve growing stronger too Ari smiled this time, as a new notification appeared [Life Quest! Join the Army, they said...Goal: Get outfitted with automailBonus goal: get through rehabilitation in a yearReward: +25XP per goal, 1 Soul-Bound token upon completionBonus Reward: +50XP, 1 beginner characteristic tome upon completion] It was as they were getting ready to leave that Roy suddenly turned toward Ari "There's one thing I don't understand... Why would you father share his story with a three year old kid? For all that he knew, you didn't get a word of his story...""Ah..." for the first time, she looked a bit uncomfortable, intriguing both him and Riza, while her two brothers shared a glance behind her, wondering the same "That's because I'm the only of us three that wasn't born... normal." she admitted"What do you mean?" "Because father holds the philosopher stone made from the sacrifice of his own people within him, he consider himself a monster, and was afraid of what would happen when he had children. But soon, with Ed, then Al, it became apparent that whatever he had become, it wasn't transmitted to his kids. But then, I was born." She threaded her only hand in her hair, soon finding the silver Soul Link "I was born with this." she stated, surprising both soldiers and her brothers "This, and eyes too old for a newborn." a shrug "Biologically, there's no doubt about it, I'm one hundred percent human. But I can feel things that I shouldn't. Like souls. And father has a lot of suffering souls within himself. It doesn't feel great...""So that was why you always tried to get away from him when you were a baby." Pinako realized, eyes widening as she remembered the girl's first months of life"That's not possible, is it..." Ed mumbled "Something like that, it doesn't have any scientific basis." ¤.¤.¤ "And what's the scientific basis of the gate?" she asked back, before smiling "But well, it's because I knew that would be your answer that I didn't tell you." a shrug "We inherited our genius mind from father, and so he knew that I could feel and see more than I let on. So eventually, I just asked. And he told me...""Is that how you always know who's coming near you even without seeing them?" Al asked, amused – that ability had made her nearly impossible to surprise or prank when they were younger A confirmation nod, and soon, lieutenant-colonel Mustang and lieutenant Hawkeye were gone. They had decided not to keep contact while the Elric did their surgery and rehabilitation, not wanting to attract attention too soon – but they would discretely inform their team of what they had learned, and would try and find more about the situation without getting themselves killed.Knowing that the danger would come from within was a good forewarning, one they wouldn't waste. After that, days went by quickly, Winry and Pinako wanting them healthy before starting the first part of the automail surgery – the ports installation. Only one more surprise was waiting for them – and Al found first, as he was woken up the next morning by Paws, who wanted to be fed "Yes, yes, I'm up you spoiled beast." was muttering the youngest boy, still half asleep "Yes, I gathered that you're hungry..." another insistent meow "No you're not having fish you... er..." and suddenly it dawned on him "Ah! Ed, Ari! Paws' talking to me!""What the hell are you talking about?" Ed grumbled, barely awake "Well, of course he's talking to you." Ari nodded as if it was an everyday occurrence, gaining a pair of disbelieving look "What did you think the familiar bond was about?""I don't know! Not about Paws asking for fish a six in the morning in any case!"She snorted, and said sagely at Padfoot "See, this is why canine are so much superior to feline." the dog barked his agreement, and Al suddenly realized "Wait... You said to Truth you already had a familiar bond with Padfoot... Does this mean you've always understood what he says!"A nod, and Ed turned back to bury his head in the pillow "It is way to early in the morning for you to be yet again defying the laws of physics, little sister... Wake me up in a couple of hours..." "Er... Guess I'll relay Tempesta's proposition latter then." she shrugged before starting to get out of bedAs for Ed – he was already back into dream-land. As such it was only several hours later than he remembered "You were saying something about Tempesta earlier?""Oh, right! She's proposing to become your familiar.""I thought she would be yours?""Well yes, but she says that since I've already have Padfoot," cue happy bark "she could keep an eye on you.""Keep an eye on me?""Think about it, we're talking about a natural predator who only you could understand guarding your back." explained Ari He nodded – even if his mind still had trouble wrapping around the idea that animals were talking to his brother and sister, he could see the advantage of it, if you accepted that those animal were much more intelligent that normal specimen, which he already knew...So, Tempesta choose Ed as her partner – and now that they could understand each other, the fox and the boy spent most of their time bickering, to the rest of them everlasting amusement. Since Ariana was the only one who could do alchemy one-handed, she still went around town to help people – and the news of their accident had soon circulated around town, with the false story that it was a few straggling rebels that did it, but that the Elric managed to take care of them with the help of the recruiter that had come to meet them.Even though most didn't really like the military, they knew about Ed's stubbornness, and the three's talent, so when they heard that they wanted to become State Alchemist, they weren't met by resentment but cheering – as they did believe that if someone could better the reputation of the State Alchemists, it was them. Thanks to the helping around she did which always translated in daily or weekly quests, she was soon on the cusp of leveling up to level 26 – except she didn't, and was instead met with an unexpected notification. [System Log: Class Available! You are now eligible to select a class. Note that each class has a specific requirement to choose it, and will offer specific bonus and skill set.You will not be able to level up above level 25 as long as you haven't selected and gained your Class.] Well, that was different...With that, she hadn't wasted any time and jumped to the new log entry that expanded on the different classes and their requirements. There were eight different Classes, all giving a Class Perk to be chosen, a boost to one main characteristic each five level, and requiring two skills, varying in function of the class, at 50 and 25 respectively. [Artificer Class chosen!(requirement: any alchemy skill over 50, any fighting skill over 25)You will now gain +1 Intelligence each 5 levelClass Perk available:- Art is a Bang: +5 to Fire Affinity, +10 to Fire Alchemy, double range skills growth rate, unlocks Fiery Temper(1/10) Ability (creating explosions in the battlefield is your favorite past time: each successive Fire Circle activated does 5% more damage)- Chess Master: +5 to Earth Affinity, +10 to Earth Alchemy, double ground skills growth rate, unlocks Battle Seer(1/10) Ability (your mind works so fast in the battlefield that you feel like others actions are slower: time dilatation:1.5 at rank 1)-Mermaid Wonder:+5 to Water Affinity, +10 to Water Alchemy, double survival growth rate, unlocks Bubblehead Charm (1/10) Ability (when fighting, damage bounces off you with your +20% defense)- Wind Dancer: +5 to Air Affinity, +10 to Air Alchemy, double weapon skills growth rate, unlocks Cutting Edge (1/10) Ability (you instinctively weave an alchemical array with any weapon you use on the battlefield, giving them +15% to damage dealing) unspent: 1] Ariana settled on the Wind Dancer Perk faster than reasonable – Air Alchemy was perhaps the one she had made the less progress with, but the CuttingEdge Ability appealed to her far too much to let it slide.She had started branching out into all four elements of alchemy while her brothers and her were still researching the homunculus ritual, and had progressed surprisingly fast with fire alchemy, perhaps thanks to her previous life where Flames had been the basis of her powers and high Elemental affinity with fire, and was already adept at water alchemy since it was the basis of alkahestry, but air had been the hardest element to get a handle on with its volatile, invisible and untouchable nature. Taking advantage of the fact she was alone, she started to play around with air alchemy, trying to orient a gust of wind toward a line of small figurines transmuted from the ground to make them fall or float.Neither of which were easy. ¤.¤.¤ "Wow, what is this!" breathed an impressed Al, Ed's eyes alight too with interest as her brothers finally came to see what she was doing"Air alchemy," she explained "Since our alchemy is based on manipulating the earth's energy, and alkahestry uses fluids, in other word, the water element, it stood to sense that there must be fire or air based alchemy too.""Do you have notes on it?" Ed asked, eyes already alight with interest She nodded "At home, I'll give them to you so you can start studying them. And you can start thinking about the way you'll harness the energy too.." a groan "Because I just can't get a handle of air for some reason..."Al laughed at her frustration, plopping by her side while Paws went to play with the one figurine she had finally managed to float a few centimeters off the ground. "And fire?" asked her eldest brotherA smile, and she negligently pushed her hand on the ground – the next moment, one of the stubbornly standing figurine was bursting in flames under Tempesta excited yips."Show off." Ed grumbled, amused in spite of him"Fire is easy." she shrugged "There's oxygen everywhere and heat and fuel are easy enough to find in the ground.""And if you want to burn something that isn't on the ground?""Heating oxygen particles, and a spark.""Ah but then you'll have an explosion, not a fire.""True. I'll need more fuel for fire only. But that can be found easily enough, be it in gas or in solid matters like wood." After that, the three of them found a new burst of interest in the differences between the four elemental alchemies, and the innovative ways each could be used. Their studies were of course mainly focused on theory, but they also make it a habit to try at least once a day to feel the different energy sources around them.And that's how several months after they lost their limbs, and a few days after they had finally been fitted with automail and were trying anything to but their mind off the pain, they realized something. "There is something under the earth's crust that doesn't allow us to go too deep when using earth alchemy." Ed mused "And it doesn't make any sense according to the making off of the planet's depths!"Of course, his affirmation sparked the interest of his two siblings that soon confirmed his findings. Then, Ari paled, having focused all of her senses toward the obstruction and brusquely found what it was... "Ari!" Al shouted as his little sister tumbled, looking nearly sick "Ari, what is it?""Souls." she answered finally, after having taken a few deep breaths to settle herself "Thousands of souls..." she stumbled again "I feel dirty."And she did – there had always been some kind of background noise she wasn't aware of since her birth; except now she had honed on said background noise, and it was the cries of souls asking to be freed, everywhere around, just beneath the surface. She felt ashamed of herself for not having caught on this sooner... Padfoot, her loyal dogfather now outfitted with a metallic limb too, whined and trotted toward her to comfort her, and her brothers scouted toward her, sandwiching her in a brotherly hug of human and metallic limbs.After that, it took months for her to learn back how to ignore the uncomfortable feeling, because she couldn't free those souls – experimenting around a bit soon revealed to her that these were part of the missing souls not currently stuck inside her father; in other words these were part of the homunculus that was their enemy, and to free them she would have to face the homunculus himself. Which only comforted her in their resolution of taking the State Alchemist test. Now that they had their limbs back, the three siblings and their partners spent most of their time rushing through rehabilitation.They spent many nights coughing blood as their bodies protested against the harsh treatment, all of their nerves ending feeling on fire as they adapted to the port and metallic limb – but they did it, and nine months after the fateful day that changed their life, Ariana received a new notification... [Goal complete!+25XPGoal update: pass the State Alchemist written examBonus Goal complete!+50XPBonus goal update: be ranked in the first three in the written exam][Level up! You are now level 27!+1SP] ¤.¤.¤ When the folder on the three Elric brothers found it's way on his desk, Roy Mustang's eyes widened : if he could recruit those three, it would be a guaranteed boost in his reputation, even better since they were so close to Ishval, they probably would be amenable to ally with him if he played his cards correctly!As such, he didn't waste any time, and soon, Riza in tow, he was in a carriage for Rosembool, still compiling the profiles of the three alchemists. Then, came the coach's driver comment "Boy, the Elric kids are going to be surprised that such an important member of the military is traveling all the way to Rosembool to see them.""Kids?" he raised an eyebrow at the words, getting back to his files "Edward, Alphonse and Harry Elric, aged 31, 30 and 29?""Ed is 11." corrected the driver – then he dashed his hopes further "And he is the eldest. Al is 10 and little Ari is only 9." A sigh, and he could see Riza repressing an amused smile "Well, lieutenant-colonel, it looks like the guys at the Information Service messed up.""It does indeed. Ah well, it's not like there's an age limit to pass the State Alchemist test is there?""Still, do you really think they have what it takes if they're so young?""We're already on our way to Rosembool anyway, so we might as well check. Who knows..." He didn't want to admit it, but he was having a gut feeling – something that had been screaming at him even since he got his hands on those three files, telling him to go and check these three brothers.The driver left them at the Elric's door, indicating that the town wasn't far, and they knocked – and realized that the door wasn't even locked. After calling a few times, they entered and started to look around, a bad feeling rising within both of them – and if Ishval had taught them one thing, it was that guts feeling were usually right. So Riza went to search the first floor while he found the door to the basement. There were sounds coming from that basement, so he slowed his steps down and pricked up his ears, recognizing human and animal whines of pain, and the shuffling of someone light but moving around unevenly.Then, there was a familiar rush of heat, and the all too familiar smell of burning flesh and he rushed into the basement. He didn't expect to find three children and three animals, all mutilated, a few steps away from what definitively had been a human transmutation circle, with unidentifiable remains burning. ¤.¤.¤ What followed had been confusing at best, chaotic at worst, but as he finally managed to get his mind together as Riza was helping the old granny take care of the children, he knew that indeed, those kids had all the skills necessary to go through the State Alchemist exams.They had also already seen hell, which was good – well, not good, he wasn't heartless, but better if they intended to enroll, because they would have less innocence to loose. Then came Ari's revelations about the country and the military, and the fact those three were living Xerxesians. Well, half-Xerxesian. With a four centuries old father. Somehow, Roy wondered if he hadn't stepped through a looking glass when he wasn't paying attention...With all that had been thrown at him and Riza, it was nearly expected that one more strange true was imparted to them before they left – a child who could feel souls? He didn't even have the strength to be surprised after that long day. Then, he was back in a carriage with his aide, and suddenly realized "Riza..." it was a testament to how chaotic the day had been that he called her by her name while they were in uniform "I just realized that I'm not the only flame alchemist anymore..." And it was a testament to how tired she was that her only reaction was to raise an eyebrow."The youngest kid. I'm pretty sure he used flame alchemy in the basement..."Roy didn't understand why this statement provoked a full out laughter from the young woman, as she had stated years ago that she didn't wish for anyone else that Roy to use the dangerous alchemy her father had spent his life researching but decided it probably was nerves, or weariness. As for Riza, she had just realized that her superior officer and friend still believed the three siblings to be brothers...And she resolved not to correct him, deciding it could potentially be a source of amusement the next time they met the three young alchemists - and after the day they had, she felt entitled to a bit of fun, even if it was at the expense of Roy. Within all the chaos of the day, it was only once in his bed that Roy finally realized something important.That nagging feeling that followed him through every moment of his life had disappeared for a few hours when with the three Elric siblings, only to reappear as soon as they left the Rockbell's house.He groaned in his bed – was whatever he was looking for with the kids? Or worst, one of the kids themselves? He had a hard time falling asleep that night – and not only because of the homunculus dictating the country's fate in the shadows... Chapter IV: 1911 "Yo, lieutenant-colonel.""It's colonel now, brat." corrected Roy " You took your time."Aria and Al shared an amused look at the banter, and greeted Riza, the lieutenant surprisingly coming to meet them.They soon understood a second latter when she muttered under her breath as she greeted them "The colonel only spotted one of the two errors on his file about you last year..." "You don't say..." an amused Ari breathed, having immediately caught on, and deciding it would be an excellent distraction to keep her mind of the familiarity of the nearby soulAl was understanding too but a second latter and his eyes gleamed "Well, well, let's give him the Elric Brothers then.""And here I thought he was the sweet one when I met you..." Riza mumbled, surprised"Oh, Al is the kindest." confirmed Ari "But he's developed a taste for pranks lately... Well, I guess I can play along for a bit." Padfoot barked his approval, and she waved him off"Yes, yes, I know you love pranks Padfoot, I don't see how I could forget this with your habit of moving my stuffs around while I sleep." Riza pointedly ignored the fact that the dog seemed to be laughing at that comment, as they made their way back to the colonel. "So," he asked "Are you ready for this?""Want us to wag our tail?"At that, Paws, Tempesta and Padfoot complied – even if it was more of a tail waving rather than wagging on Paws ends.And Roy decided, just like Riza, that the pets were just as strange as their masters, and that he was probably better off ignoring it. "Well then, to Central!""You still have paperwork to care of." Riza noted dutifully"Nothing urgent!" Roy waved off"What a slacker..." Ed muttered – Ari laughed lightly, while Al discretely shared with their eldest the fact that the colonel still believe Ari to be a boy At that, Ed nearly fell to the ground laughing, only stopping when Roy commented "Wow, you sure make a lot of noise for such a small boy.""Who are you calling so tiny you have to take out a magnifying glass to find?""Well, you of course.""Eh, he won't even miss granny." Al stated as the colonel was verbally sparring with their brother"I guess they must be around the same age mentally, then." Ari commented calmly, gaining a laughing bark from her familiar, soon followed by Ed As for the colonel, he stopped in the middle of their argument, a bit vexed, before turning to Riza "Lieutenant..." he protested"You brought this one on yourself." Riza answered, barely able to keep a smile from her faceHe groaned – but annoying the pip-squeak had been amusing... In the end, it took nearly two hours to put his work in order and alert the general in charge of the East division that he would be going to Central city to sponsor a few State Alchemists hopeful. In those two hours, the three brats had managed to meet and befriend all of his team – which should have been good yet somehow filled him with dread, even if he couldn't pinpoint why exactly just yet.Then, Riza, Ari and Havoc burst out laughing in the office, then followed him with eyes full of mirth, and he suddenly had an inkling about why it was bad – if one of the brothers could make him act like a kid, who knew what the other two could do with his subordinates?With that, he repressed a groan, and announced "All right, let's go we've got a train to catch in half an hour." ¤.¤.¤ "So... You know any good hotel in this town?" asked Ari as her brothers were taking in the bustling Central Station"I've got a friend who'll lent you a room." he said, before looking around "He should be somewhere nearby."He had barely finished his sentence that a loud "Roy, here you are! So, how is East City? Did you finally settled on a girlfriend or are you still a womanizer? Are these the kids you're sponsoring? My, how daring!" "Did you grow even more annoying since the last time I saw you?" the colonel wondered while dodging his best friend's attempts at hugging him"Well I have to make up for all the time you spent away from me!""You make it sounds as if we were a couple." Roy sighed, repressing the sudden urge to bang his head against something – of better yet, bang Maes' head against something"What! Of course not! After all, I'm happily married with the most beautiful woman in the world! And soon to be a father! Now, come, come, let's go home, Gracia has made lunch!" The three Elric siblings shared a glance, a bit overwhelmed by the friendly but loud man, and Al finally said "He's very, er...""Annoying?" Roy immediately suggested as they trailed after his friend"Full of life!" Al settled on"That's another way of putting it..." Roy mumbled dubiously, eyeing his loud friend while wondering once more why he befriended the idiot The three Elric and Roy had soon found themselves at the Hughes' household, Maes never ending praises about his wife quite strange to witness for the children – and promptly ignored by Roy who was used to them."So," Gracia was soon asking as they got to the dessert "How does this exam works?" "It spans three days and is held twice a year, in March and September." started to explain her husband"The first part is a written test, which alone weeds out about half of the candidates most of the time.""Those that gets through that test are then taken through a physical with a military doctor, then a physiological evaluation." Roy took over "But most of the time, the physical is far less strict for alchemists than normal military.""Oh? Why is that?" "Alchemists up to take the national exam generally aren't any younger than their mid-twenties." he explained "You can't ask quitethe same degree of fitness from a man in his thirties that spent the last ten to twenty years in a library than what you ask of a regular soldier.""Alchemists stuck in libraries?" Ed burst out laughing "Wow, theses guys would get their ass handed to them by teacher.""Really?" Gracia asked with a curious smiled "How was your training then?" ¤.¤.¤ At that, both boys froze, and Ari sighted – sometimes her brothers really were a pair of drama queens... "Teacher believes that to train the mind you must start by training the body." she explained "Her teaching techniques were very... hands-on..." she trailed, before adding with a smile "But it was fun!""I don't call fun being beaten to the ground every day of the week!" Ed protested hotly"Nor those pop-quiz that doubled into accuracy lessons at dawn!" Al added"I became so used to that Alkahestry array that deals with aches, and heamatomas that I could do it in my sleep!" Ed continued "That woman is a monster!" "Hm... You two are so thankless toward our beloved teacher, even thought you're wearing her symbol." Ari sighed, smile showing though her eyes "Were did I go wrong with you?""Need I remind you you're the youngest, Ari?""Sometimes I wonder about that..." she teased, before turning her attention back to the colonel "So, since you dragged us so fast to Central and it's September, I guess the exam is soon to be held?" "It starts next Monday." confirmed the alchemist "Your inscriptions were handled before we left East City so you'll just have to show up to the military quarters at eight in the morning in six days." he explained"Well, sorry for imposing on you for so long." Ari said to Gracia with a thankful smile "Why don't you let us help you with the house while were here?" she gave a small glance at the prominent baby bump "I'm sure you could use a bit of down time." "Oh but you must need some time to study for your exam!" protested the housewife immediatelyEd snorted "Don't worry about that, we had nothing else to do for months with the rehab." he said, oblivious to the wondering glance that earned him from Maes "And Ari likes to boss us around at home.""Except for the kitchen," added Al in a conspiratorial tone "Ari banned us from there without any good reason!" "I do have a good reason!" she bit back "You two tend to think that cooking works like alchemy! And it doesn't! So I rather eat something edible, thank you very much, you two stick to fire-camp cooking!""Wow so young and already such an accomplished little housewife." Roy teased, wondering whether the youngest would react just as violently as the eldest"Why," Ari answered back with a smile that somehow make him shudder in fear "thank you for the compliment. I do hope to grow up just as teacher!" At that, her two brothers were once more looking terrified "Don't give Ari any more stupid ideas!" Ed threatened, throwing his spoon at him"Just a housewife she said when she introduced herself..." Al whispered in a blank tone "Yeah right..."As for Ari, she still had the sweetest smile on her face, visibly satisfied with the reactions around her - and quite proud of herself for being able to act normally around the colonel. "Don't you ever work?" Ari wondered a few days latter as, once more, the colonel was inviting himself to eat at his best friends' place for lunch"Of course I do." he protested"So why don't you eat at the military mess then?""Because their food isn't as good as yours, of course." he stated matter-of-factually"You really have no shame." she groaned, Gracia laughing in the background Just like Ariana had said, her siblings and her had taken to help around the house, yet still had plenty of time to cram one last time before the exams – and so the only female Elric had taken over the kitchen, Gracia still staying around but not allowed to do anything too tiring most of the time.The three siblings were still playing along the "Ari is a boy" farce, avoiding to us any pronouns as much as they could and had found that Maes was even more oblivious than Roy – to Ed and Al it really was a mystery how anyone could mistake their sweet, if scary, little sister for a boy just because of her clothes, but it also gave them countless occasions to laugh at those two expenses.As for Gracia, she had caught on immediately on the game the three were playing, and was enjoying being the only adult in Central in on the joke. "I should keep you for the food even if you don't pass through the exam." Roy mused as he finished his plate and took a second serving"This is called child labor and its illegal." Ari contradicted with a roll of her eyes – it always impressed her that someone with such big ambitions as the colonel could behave as a child at the drop of a hat when with people he trusted; it was also amusing to see how much he had changed from before "keep your hands off my sibling!" Ed added – the boy had become much more protective of Ari, and insistent on keeping up the boy front since he'd learned of the womanizing reputation that followed Roy Mustang;Which of course was ridiculous, since Ariana was but ten year old, but Edward did tend to be a bit impulsive and irrational when it came to protecting his family, even more so since that failed human transmutation attempt. So Ariana let it slid and instead enjoyed her time with her brothers. ¤.¤.¤ With that, she turned toward Gracia, who had seemed a bit tired that day, and was met with wide eyes, caught somewhere between surprise and panic "I think my waters just broke..."That single like sentence provoked chaos around the table, Maes, Ed and Al all panicking in such a similar fashion it would have been funny if there wasn't a woman getting ready to give birth in the room."Say, colonel, you've got a driver that is taking you around in Central don't you?" Ari asked The only man not panicking in the room nodded and got up "I'll tell him to get ready to take us to the hospital.""Do you have anything you need to take with you?" Ari asked at the woman"I've got a bag ready in my room." Gracia nodded, grateful that some were making themselves useful rather than panicking "You won't miss it, it's a blue travel bag with pink borders."The little girl nodded, and went to get the bag. By the time she was downstairs, Roy was helping Gracia into the car and Maes had somewhat calmed down. Soon, all of them were at the hospital, Maes pacing in front of the room where his wife was giving birth, and the three siblings seated just by the door with Roy, waiting."Shouldn't you get back to work?" Ari wondered at the colonel"With the state Maes is in?" he snorted "No I don't. Anyway all the work I do in Central is only on a voluntary basis since I'm assigned to the East. Mostly clarifying reports sent from the East that Central don't understand because of a lack of knowledge about the region, or things like that." "And here I thought you were but a slacker who took any opportunity he could find to get out of his work!" Ari laughed"Why do you three insist on calling me a slacker?" he was nearly pouting "I'm on of the youngest to have ever been promoted to colonel and for now I'm still the youngest State Alchemist! I couldn't have done that if I was so lazy, could I?" "You went to recruit us personally." she answered back "Recruiting doesn't require a ranking officer, does it?""Well people aren't keen on becoming dog of the military so it's better to go in person." he counter-argued"And Riza says you always try to get out of doing your paperwork.""How did you get my most loyal aide to tell my dirty secrets in less than two hours?" he wondered "Should I be worried?" he asked only half-jokingly ¤.¤.¤ Elicia Hughes was born after nearly seven hours of waiting, and she was all her doting father had talked about ever since – as for the godparents, Roy and Ari had been chosen..."Er... I can understand the colonel, since he's Maes's old friend, but me?" Ari asked, floored, at Gracia's proposal "Not that I'm not honored! But I'm a kid! People don't usually entrust their new born baby to a ten year old child they've known for a week!" "Ah," smile Gracia from her bed "But you're the most mature in this room...""Hey!" protested Roy at that despite knowing she was only teasing him"And I trust you. Beside, with that you'll have to come by in and visit us again!" the new mother continued as if she hadn't been interruptedAri smiled softly at the baby that had been forcefully put in her hand, naturally remembering how to carry her best, and accepted the responsibility, giving in to the nostalgic feeling of having the baby in her arms. As for Ed and Al, both of them were looking at the small being in wonder "I guess humans really are amazing, hu?" Ed whispered, wonder in his voice "being able to give life to such a small being in only 280 days..."Roy's smile dropped at the three children's reactions in front of the newborn – most people would only see kids awed at the baby, but he could see in their eyes the shadows of that failed attempt at getting their mother back and the guilt that was still eating at Edward and Alphonse each time they were reminded that in a few short years they would loose their youngest sibling. After that, the weekend soon came to an end – and with it, came the exams first day... "Rise and shine sleeping beauties!" the colonel easily avoided the pillow thrown his way as the three kids awoke groaning at the light that had flooded the room as he'd thrust open the heavy curtains that had been cutting the light of early morning"You, colonel, really are a bastard." Ari groaned – before letting a small gasp as her dog jumped on her stomach "And you too, Padfoot." she added, dropping the dog before getting up, using a small water alchemy circle on her eldest brother to ensure he really did get up"You are so mean with me!" the adult pouted, already in uniform "Here I am, out of kindness, helping you to get to the military quarters and this is how you repay me?" "If I was mean I would douse you just like brother." she contradicted "I wonder how well your flames would work in a wet environment.""How..." started the stunned colonel"Well, you do have a fire circle on your gloves, you know.""So you really do know fire alchemy then..." he muttered, remembering his realization a year before "Since our Amestrian alchemy is earth-based, and I discovered when I gained an interest in alkahestry that it was water-based, it stood to reason that the other two element must also work well as power source for alchemy..." she explained as she disappeared behind the bathroom door, provoking protests from her brothers"You mean you can use all four?" he asked, gaping – really, he knew those three were genius even more so than him, but still, the word impressive didn't even cover something like that, and the possibilities that opened up with other elements were numerous The Flame Alchemist wondered if he should be vexed that a ten year old child seemed so much more advanced in alchemical researches than him, but in the end it was professional curiosity that was winning – he was an alchemist before he became a soldier, but trying to rise up through the ranks meant than he spent less time than he'd like furthering his knowledge of alchemy. "Here." Ari, out of the bathroom, dropped a leather-bound notebook in his hands "reading material for when you're slacking."He didn't even react to the now usual insult that sounded more like an endearment than anything else as he opened the diary, revealing lines of small and elegant writing, calculations and diagrams.Leafing through the book, he soon confirmed that these were her notes about the basis of elemental alchemy, as she called it. Then it dawned on him "It's not encrypted?" that was strange - all alchemists encrypted their personal notes"It's locked." she contradicted "I've just added you to the lock."He had barely noticed the small paper cut he got when he opened the notebook, and couldn't have seen the circle flashing lightly on the cover, since it was facing the ground, so he had no way to know that she had added a small circle to add the next person to open the book to be added to the small list of people authorized to read its content.And the paper cut the book inflicted each time in was open to test the blood of the reader to confirm they could access the true content of the book was so small most never even noticed it... ¤.¤.¤ "Wow, what did you do to shut up the bastard?" Ed wondered as he finally emerged from the bathroom, Al swiftly replacing him – then seeing what the man was engrossed in "Your personal notes, eh?" a snort "You're far too kind with him.""Well, he is a fellow alchemist, and an ally." she shrugged He laughed "Sure, you're saying that now, but somehow I don't think you'd lent this to just anybody. I really wonder what makes it that all girls seems to like this bastard, even my sister..." he muttered, then, seeing his brother getting out of the bathroom, he bumped his reinforced boot against the dark-haired man shin "Eh! Don't ignore us when you woke us up at such an ungodly hour, bastard colonel! We're ready to go!" "No breakfast?" he answered back automatically "If you don't eat properly and drink your milk, you'll never grow up.""Stop calling me so small an ant would mix me up with its children! And milk is the invention of the devil!""Ari made biscuits than can be eaten on the go." Al answered with a smile at his brother's antics"Yeah, there's even a share for you since you're such a moocher." Ed added as they passed by the kitchen and grabbed said biscuits "You should be grateful to my little sibling!" Roy spent the drive to the military quarter nose in Ari's book while munching on his share of the biscuits, much to Ed's ire. As for Al and Ari, they spent the ride playfully quizzing each other one last time. The siblings were dropped in front of the room where the written exam would be taken. The other State Alchemist hopefuls watched them walk in with dubious looks, and one of them guffawed loudly "You lost, midgets? This is the State Alchemist exam, not the elementary school one!"Of course, this caused Ed, annoyed nearly since he had woken up to explode.A litany of insults no kid should know and one man down with a bloody nose later the other candidates around them stopped talking, even if the glares weren't gone. Apparently, it was vexing for scientist who'd spent years studying their art to see children pretending to the same expertise – who knew? The written test spanned three hours, and was highly complicated, addressing nearly each branch of Amestrian alchemy possible and imaginable, asking about History as well as theory, about demonstrations as much as long practical example filled with high level calculation.Within the first half-hour, three examinee had broken down crying – within the first hour, four more were sent out for cheating. The exam was over by midday, and all the hopefuls told that the results would be displayed on the door at five that evening."Let's get some food, my treat.""Really?" a suspicious Al asked "Riza said you were stingy!"Roy nearly face-faulted – that confirmed it, they had already spent way too much time with his team..."Well, he's been eating at the Hughes' everyday," Ed commented "so I guess he can afford it!" ¤.¤.¤ A few moment latter, they were at a small inn not far for the military district, tucking in in various hearty lunches, the three kids talking about the exam between bites."This paper was really long," Al was sighing "I think I've hurt my wrist with how much writing we've done!""Al... You can't have hurt your wrist, you're right-handed! Metal doesn't feel pain!""Well, I would've hurt my wrist if it wasn't metallic!" "Anyway, it was hard but manageable," Ari commented "The real problem was writing fast enough to complete it in time.""Most candidates don't even finish it." the colonel explained after putting his fork down "Because most alchemists tend to over-specialize, the idea is to check if they are at least well-rounded on the basics with the beginning of the test, then the harder questions are to have a first view of which branch they specialized in, and how advanced they were.""Uh." The sibling shared a dumbfounded look "But... teacher told us most of this were the basics...""Then your teacher is probably better than quite a few State Alchemists.""I knew this woman was dangerous." Ed nodded sagely"That's because you've got a gift for pissing her off." Ari commentedThey parted way after lunch, Roy going back to work while the three siblings decided to explorer a bit around the military district. A few minutes after leaving the inn, they heard a loud "Ed! Al! Ari!" before being suddenly hugged by a Maes with stars in his eyes "So, tell me all about your exams! Did it go well?" After that, the plans to explore around were binned as Maes deemed it essential that he took them to meet his coworkers in the Investigation Office. As such they arrived nearly late to the room where the results were being posted, their host taking advantage of them needing to be there to get out of work early..."Do you think all the adults in the military are slackers?" Al wondered at that"Maybe colonel Mustang was a bad influence on his whole class at the academy," Ed suggested "after all they did say they took their classes together." With that, they ducked between the legs of a few of the other hopeful to get to the front of the crowd. Ari's eyes widened as she finally managed to see the results, Ed puffing up with pride... [State Alchemy Written Examination, September SessionThe following candidates are invited to present themselves for physical examination tomorrow by any military approved doctor and to psychological evaluation in Building C in the Medical Sector between 0700 and 1800 tomorrow.1. Edward Elric2. Ariana Elric3. Alphonse Elric [Goal complete! +25XPGoal update: pass the State Alchemist practical examBonus Goal complete!+50XPBonus Goal: impress the jury][Level up! You are now level 29!+2SP] "Ariana Elric, eh?" Maes burst out laughing as he finally made his way to them "I can't believe we fell for this!""Gracia didn't." Ari corrected with a smile as they made their way out of the building"But didn't Roy have a file on you when he recruited you?" he wondered, still amused at the joke"His file said that we were three brothers of 30 year old..." trailed Al"Oh right, I remember him complaining about the Information Service of East City for weeks after that!" nodded Maes, eyes still full of mirth "I wonder how long it'll take for him to catch on!""Well, it's not like we can play this joke indefinitely," Ariana shrugged "after all there is a physical examination tomorrow, and I don't think they skip gender in a soldier's file, don't they?""True," the man agreed, disappointed "too bad... ah well, let's enjoy it for as long as it goes on!" ¤.¤.¤ "You do realize I don't treat people, right?"The Elric siblings shared a look – since any military doctor was good for the physical certification, and that those stationed at the Medical Sector would be overworked with the 42 State Alchemists candidates on top of their usual work load, Roy had shown up to drag them to an old acquaintance.The man, tall, with short hair and rectangular glasses had a harsh look on him, yet what Ari could feel from his soul was mainly sadness, and shame... "I'm a forensics, for god's sake!""Impressive, he manages to argue without even talking..." Ed commented while looking at Roy, looking reluctantly impressed – who true to what he said, hadn't even said a word"Fine, come on in and tell me the true reason why you're here."Ed stared at Roy's back with grudging awe as they entered the man's house. "I'm doctor Knox." the man finally said "So, what's wrong with you that he doesn't want you auscultated by the other doctors?"They shared a clueless glance, and the colonel sighed "You can talk with your pets and this one was born with real silver in his hair!" he said, exasperated "Who knows what the medics will find if they look at you three too closely!""Oh." Ari gave him a reassuring smile "Don't worry we're normal on the biological side. Well," her hand reach for the Soul Link in her hair "except for this I guess. I didn't even thought about it...""I thought as much.." Roy grumbled a bit petulantly – truth be told he wasn't even sure a doctor would have noticed the ornament, but somehow, he didn't want to risk itHe couldn't help but worry about those three, and he really wanted them to pass that exam As for the doctor, his hand had sped forward to take a look at said ornament "Eh! Don't pull!" Ari protested, wincing slightly "I'm not going around pulling your hair, am I?"Knox released her while ignoring her brothers' glaring at him and stated "Well, I don't have a silver braid in my hair." before asking "So, who's first?""Me!" Ed loudly demandedAl went next as Ed got out of the room where the doctor was doing his job, then Ari. "Really, automail, you too? Is it some kind of fashion statement?" he groaned"We live near Ishval." she shrugged, as if it explained it – which it did, for those that didn't know about their failed transmutation"Yes, you brothers told me the same. Your older brother also seemed adamant that I don't tell colonel Mustang your gender..." Ariana rolled her eyes "He's afraid of the colonel's infamous reputation as a womanizer. Honestly, what does he think will happen if the colonel realize I'm a girl? I'm ten!" an amused smile "But then again, it is fun that he still hasn't realized..." and the ongoing joke also helped her not examining her feelings too deeply, which was also a plus "I'm not falsifying military papers.""Of course not!""But as long as he doesn't read your file..."She laughed, as the serious looking man endorsed their bit of fun. "Well then, the three of you are in the clear medically speaking." he announced as they were back in the living room "Good luck for the rest of the exam.""Thanks doctor Knox!"With that, they were gone – on to the psychological evaluation... ¤.¤.¤ The psychological evaluation, Ariana soon found out, was laughable at best.Sure enough, they reminded of the three main rules they would have to obey as State Alchemists "obey the military, do not create gold, do not create humans" – two of the three she already had infringed.But truth was, even someone unstable could pass thought this evaluation if he knew how to phrase his answer well enough...Yet one more proof that something was rotten in the country. The three siblings as such breezed through the evaluation – and soon found themselves, on the morning of the third day, with the rest of the 23 candidates still in the exam, waiting for their turn in front of the commission that would individually judge their practical. "Writing things is easy," one of remaining the candidates taunted "But now we'll see if you really are skilled, brats!"Ari snorted, and stated "You're James Wilson, aren't you?""What is it to you?" he replied on the defensive, not expecting her to know his name"I understand that you feel the need to put down those of us that know how to us our brains as well as our brawls. After all you were the next to last out of those that went through the written exam." she walked by him calmly, and as she passed him by, discretely activated an air circle "But some of us have... A bit more finesse than you." she continued "So please keep your pants on and stop annoying the grown up." The furious man went to attack her – but as soon as he moved toward her, his pants fell to his ankle under the others' laughter, making him stumble and fall in place.After that, the candidates resolved themselves, once more, not to trash-talk the three children who clearly knew how to defend themselves in order to avoid themselves either pain or humiliation. Ariana felt the moment the jury entered the room with her Soul Art, and paled a bit – not anything notable for people that didn't know her, but enough that her brothers were worried.With a nearly invisible shake of her head, she told them to forget about it for now.Reluctantly, they nodded back. ¤.¤.¤ Of the three of them, Ed was the first to go – and judging from the awed, then panicked shouts from the other side of the heavy door, her eldest brother had probably done something flashy, which really wasn't surprising all in all...Then Al went in, soon provoking his own shouts, and it was her turn to go in.She smiled a bit – well her two brothers seemed to already have worked hard to shock the brass, as such it was her duty as younger sister to follow the example they set, wasn't it?Pushing back the nagging feeling she had felt since the jury arrival in the building, she prepared herself mentally, and decided on her course of action. With that, she smiled sweetly. "Another one?" was the exclamation in the stands were the jury was as they saw a third child with a long open coat in a blinding red with a black Flamel on the back, and golden blond eyes and hair"I'm the third Elric sibling." she answered calmly, smile never wavering – before thrusting her hand around in a large arc around her, small daggers flying with a gust of wind toward seven of them, missing each by only a few voluntary centimeters – and among those seven, it was to be noted, six were the officers with the highest rank, Fuhrer included, and the seventh was her sponsor "The three of you like to threaten authority, don't you?" one of the officers commented"Of course not," she contradicted "It's just that we're suppose to demonstrate how our alchemy can be used in a real-life situation, yet we're put in en empty arena. Wouldn't there be people attacking us is a real-life situation?" with that she made her way to the exit "Don't you want to get your daggers back?" one of the officers asked"It's just something I made right now," she waved him off "You can keep it as a souvenir or melt them, I don't really care!""Does this mean that the alchemy wasn't just the wind but the blade too?""I saw only one flash!" another protested, awed "That must have been some fast work!" Ariana was smiling as she left the room. That had been satisfying! [Goal complete!+25XPGoal update: obtain State Alchemist rankBonus Goal complete! +50XP, 1 beginner characteristic tome] It was only later, when they were back at the Hughes' house, that Ari manage to drag them, colonel included, into the room they had been given, and finally stated, as soon as they were alone "The Fuhrer is a homunculus." ¤.¤.¤ To say it had been frustrating to getting used once more to the permanent nagging feeling after having be freed of it for a day would be an understatement.Thankfully, Riza and the rest of his team put his bad mood on the recent revelations, not the fact that the brats weren't there. Still, he fought his frustration by burying himself in work, and before he knew it, a year had gone by and he'd been promoted. He was getting out of the East Military District when suddenly, the bloody feeling was gone once more – and the three children were there, looking far better than they had just one year before, and he really had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that all of them managed the rehabilitation for automail in one measly year; the eldest had two limbs missing and even the pets were crippled, yet here they were, pets included! Annoying the eldest was easy, and relaxing in a way few things were in the military – but getting chastised by a ten year old really made him feel stupid, while making him wonder how he'd managed to feel at ease around them so fast. Roy tried not to think about the speed with which the three had gotten on with his team, because he just knew that this was a recipe for headaches – still, the three Elric were there, and he wasn't letting them out of his sight just now!Beside, he got the feeling these exams would be memorable... In his readiness to get them to Central City, he had forgotten one big detail – Maes Hughes, or rather, Maes Hughes' habit of harassing him each time they were in the same city.The man was his best friend, but he still had this urge from time to time to strangle him.Or set him on fire.Or kill him in any messy and painful way he could think of.He was worse even since he'd married, deciding that since he was so happy with his wife, everybody else should get married – and Roy had no intention to get married, he had other, more important things to do than to bother himself with one of those airhead he got around with; there was a reason why he never dated the same girl twice... He had joked when he called Ari a housewife, but the week before the exams let him see a bit more of them, and soon he realized that – the youngest Elric really was mothering the other two in her own way, even if it wasn't evident to anyone; but he always found it easier to understand the youngest Elric and got along with her best, so of course, he noticed.And the food she made was to die for, and somehow awakening some kind of strange nostalgia in him... Then, Elicia was born – and he still couldn't believe that Gracia had decreed Ari more mature than him, even as a joke! He was a colonel in the army, he knew how to lead people, wasn't that enough as proof a maturity?Apparently she found his disregard for the laws appalling - laws were just a guideline!And he wanted to change them anyway! Still, he now was godfather of the little girl along the with the youngest Elric – and the brothers awe at the new life in front of them suddenly reminded him that Elicia's other godparent probably wouldn't even see her grow into adulthood.The though hurt much more than it ought to, it wasn't as if he even really knew those kids was it? Except – except that he felt some sort of kinship with them, because they had lost their innocence so early, and in such a cruel way that they all were much older mentally than their real age. And wasn't it strange, to realize that he had already come to value them just as much as his trusted team so quickly? ¤.¤.¤ The exams had been – a revelation.Oh, he knew already that the Elric were high-level alchemists, there had been no doubt about it since the day he saw that human transmutation circle – failed or not, it was still really advanced, far too complex to have been crafted in less than years of hard work. He hadn't realized just how much advanced they were – but then, on the morning of their written exam, Ari gave him her personal researches, and he realized that those three were above any other alchemist he'd ever met.Even him, who pride himself for his skills, couldn't hold a candle to them in pure alchemy knowledge terms. Of course, he still had the advantage of experience, but still – that little leather-bound notebook reignited the will to learn in him, and he spent the rest of the day reading, only stopping by the correcting commission to hear about their results – and after his readings, and their lunch, he wasn't all that surprised to learn that the three Elric had taken the three first places, with 20% more correct answers than any of the following candidates... When the third day came, he had already read through Ari's notes several times, and so when it was the youngest sibling turn, he nearly burst out laughing when he realized she had used the alchemy she had the more difficulties to use in the State Alchemist exam.Nobody else would have dared something like that!Still, the three siblings had made an impact among the officers – Ed had created a spear and aimed at the Fuhrer himself, sowing chaos among the ranks before Fuhrer Bradley himself calmed them down; Al had touched the ground and the next moment the ground shook and spikes appeared near all of them; and of course, Ari's performance couldn't be forgotten - in a few seconds, she had demonstrated speed and skill with both alchemy and traditional fighting, as well as awareness of priority target. The member of the jury had been impressed with all of the children – and the Fuhrer too – so it was only a matter of time processing the paperwork before the three of them obtained their watches. The fact that he had been the one to sponsor them hadn't gone unnoticed either, which was exactly what he had intended – but what really interested him was the well-hidden interest in the Fuhrer's eyes when the first two brothers had transmuted with a clap of their hand, then the unmistakable shock when Ari didn't even need that clap. That circle-less transmutation meant something, clearly – and he intended to find what.His observation about the Fuhrer reactions, added to Ari's revelation about the leader of their nation true nature painted a frightening picture, even more so once he knew where the ability to do alchemy without circle came from.There really was no telling who was the enemy, and the youngest Elric sibling's strange ability truly was a precious gift with an enemy that was so well hidden in their midst. ¤.¤.¤ A few days after the exam, as September came to an end, Riza excitedly announced "Papers from Central!" her eyes were shining "Want me to check it, colonel?"He immediately accepted - who was he to deny the chance of not doing paperwork? Riza opened the folder and he could nearly hear her repress a happy squeal "They've been accepted!" she announced happily, then with a bit of suspicion "You don't look particularly happy about it?""There was no doubt about it." he commented, not realizing his how eye were lightning up "Ari shared some of his work with me... It's been years since I've met an alchemist so fascinating!" Riza smiled at that affirmation - her father had asked Roy to look after her when he died, but she too had felt the need to look after him; the man was after all the closest thing to family she had left. And it was the first time since the Ishval war that he talked about alchemy with such passion...He may have been the first among them to know that their country needed changing, and have been ready to make the sacrifice to bring forth this change - he had still lost something in the war even if it wasn't his innocence. Not once since the end of the Ishval war had she seen Roy speak with pride about his art.And yet, she still remembered how happy he had looked when he had arrived as a student for her father, truly enchanted by the endless opportunities opened by alchemy.With just a few sentences and a small notebook, Ari had reignited the fire in Roy Mustang soul, something no one else had managed to do among his friends and his team.Riza was happy to see that the feeling she had had, when the three siblings kept good on their word and came to meet them in East City in a year was already proving right. ¤.¤.¤ "They're really young, do we really want children with so much power?""They are the most skilled candidates since the Flame Alchemist, we can't afford to let such skills slip past us and get used by someone else.""So have their new names been chosen then?" chapter V: 1911-1913 "Well," the colonel tossed an envelope to the children "It just arrived, lieutenant Hawkeye checked them. Congratulations, as soon as you sign the contracts, you'll officially be dogs of the military!"A bark."No, not you Padfoot." Ariana deniedA whine. Roy didn't even react, too used by now to the uncanny comprehension the three siblings had toward their pets, as Ed mocked "I can't believe you made Riza check the paperwork, you really have no shame haven't you? You lazy bastard!""It's colonel now, major Elric.""Oh right! Colonel bastard!" The three got their papers and started to read "So?" Ari soon asked"FullMetal." her elder brother answered first, guessing what she was asking, amusement clear in his voice"EarthBreaker." Al mumbled with a groan, clearly not appreciating the military naming-sense"WindBlade." At that, Ed guffawed "I still can't believe you had the balls to went in and threaten them with your weakest skill!""Well, I may have more difficulty with air alchemy, I still find it easy to apply it to weapons.""You, are a dangerous maniac." Al sighed"I'm not!""Your first reaction when we were attacked by Mason was to run at him with a knife rather than run away! You were seven!" argued Ed Ari let herself sink into her seat, pouting, under Roy amused glance, and soon, the paperwork was done. [Life Quest complete!+25XPReward: 1 Soul-Bound token added to Inventory][WindBlade Alchemist tittle activatedwhen this title is activated, you gain (+2Intelligence, +1Agility)] "Here, your watches! Go to Rosembool to tell the Rockbell you've passed." Roy said as they got out of his office "I want you back in two weeks to start you duties!""Will do, colonel bastard!" Ed aknowledged merrily ¤.¤.¤ And with that, they were gone, rushing out of the door before their now superior officer reacted to the insult."Well," Fuery commented, amused "Things are going to be lively with those three around." with that, he went back to the report he was fillingAs for the Elric, they were already in a train, silver watches heavy in their pocket.Granny Pinako and Winry welcomed them back with a smile, and for the first time since that day a year ago, they finally found the will to step back into the house that had been their home. "I don't think it'll ever be home again." Al whispered sadly "The only thing I can think about each time I see this house is that Gate.""We should just burn it." Ed said, eyes darkening with memories"No," Ari refused "It may not be home for us anymore, but father may come back one day, and it's still home for him. Taking that from him would be cruel.""And abandoning us wasn't cruel?" Ed retorted angrily "We know his reasons, Ed." Al sighed"It doesn't change the truth of it.""It doesn't." their sister nodded "He did leave for far too long, knowing well that we would resent him. But because he made a bad call, does it mean we should too?"Ed groaned "I hate it when you make sense." he told his youngest sibling "I think part of the reason dad didn't come back is the vision he's got of himself. He thinks he's a monster." Al muttered "Al because he became immortal against his will." a frown "But aren't we worse in a way? We tried human alchemy even though we knew it was forbidden. At least dad didn't have a choice in what happened to him.""We aren't monsters any more than dad is." Ariana corrected "Not being human and being a monster are two different things, he still is able to feel after all... As for us we're still as human as ever, we just are a bit less innocent than before..." Ed nodded – out of the three of them, he still was the one who had the most anger toward their father, but since he caused the loss of most of his sister's life in one day, he had changed a lot. Realizing that science wasn't the answer to everything and that at least one god-like entity did exist had been a shock, one that had changed his perceptions of life far more than he liked to admit. Before that encounter with Truth, he'd never have considered something like the mental link he shared With Tempesta possible – there was no scientific basics he could start to guess at whatsoever.The fact his sister could feel souls was another thing he'd have rejected in bloc before Truth, which was exactly why she had never said anything, and the idea that his sister would felt obliged to hid something that was a part of her just because he wasn't ready to accept it had hurt.So he had grown up, realizing that wanting to make everything explainable according to the laws of science he knew of was just as narrow-minded as religious extremists refusing to use alchemy because it went against their god's laws. After all, who was he to decide what was and wasn't possible? ¤.¤.¤ Of course, changing one's view of the world wasn't done in a day, and he still was as loud and stubborn as ever – it was a part of him. But he had also learned to listen a bit more to his siblings, even when it didn't appear that he was looking at them – and that was why he knew that Ari wasn't done with her secrets.He'd waited, hoping that she'd understand by herself that he'd already made the mistake of not listening to her once and had paid the price for it – that now, he wouldn't reject her just because he couldn't explain everything in a rational manner. But she hadn't, not that he blamed her – she couldn't erase a whole childhood spent hiding things just like that. So, as the older brother, he'd make the first step.He didn't really like to talk too much about feelings and beliefs, but for his small family, he would. "When I started us on the path that led to that day a year ago," he started "You said that the dead were better left to the gods." she turned toward him and nodded, wondering where he was going with that "When we face Truth... you changed."Her eyes widened at that – true, before Truth she had unleashed the full weight of her aura, powers from her two previous life awakened in a moment, Soul and Blood Art ready to be used. This had been the only time she used the Past Life Aura in this life and she had hoped her brothers had forgotten about it, since it didn't even lasted the full five minutes she could use under that form.But he didn't dwell on this and went on "When I asked if we could find a way to extend your life, you stated that playing with life was only done by the gods." he continued "Then, you revealed that you've always been able to talk with Padfoot, and could feel souls. You were even born with silver in your hair..." She nodded. "You were right in saying that I would never have accepted any of this before we met Truth." he admitted "I wasn't a very good big brother, was I?" he sighed "But I know, now, that there are strange things in this world, things I can't explain... So please, Ari, stop holding back on us. Tell us what it is you're still hiding?"And there it was in her eyes – the desire to tell the truth that she alone knew, and the fear of what his reaction would be. Fear, coming from Ari, that had stood up in front of Truth for them and given up her life without any hesitation."Please." Her eyes met his, and she looked unsure for a long moment – then with a fortifying breath, she stated "This is the third time I've been born, in the third different family." whatever he had expected, it certainly wasn't that – but he had resolved to learn and accept everything she had to share, and so he didn't say anything, letting her continue "While I loose most of my powers each time, I can still access them all for five minutes ever two weeks. This is what you saw against Truth."Their sister blurred in front of them, her feature changing – first to a black haired, green-eyed girl with a sharper face, then with another girl, with the same coloring but with a softer face and looking distinctly Xingese. "The one power I retained from my first life was called Metamorph, it ran in a family I was related with." she explained "And it allows to change your appearance.""To anything?" he couldn't help but ask, fascinated – he didn't know the basis behind this, yet he could still imagine people eventually finding the scientific basis to do something similar with alchemy, or rather alkahestryShe smiled, recognizing his mind already at work, and explained "It depends on the person's skills. At first I could only change my hair, then my eyes, then the shape of different body part. By now, I can take the appearance of any person of approximately the same size as I am. I have been slacking a bit on my training, otherwise I would eventually be able to change into anyone." "If this is a power from your first life, then you must have one from your second one?" asked Al, who had been silent until thenA nod."You have to understand that my first two life weren't in this world..." she cautioned "Those two life were in the same world, but in two very different communities... And just like here we can access different elements to harness them with alchemy, we used different powers there." with that, she opened her hand and a black flame appeared on top of it "In my second life, I discovered that every human soul on that planet was attuned to one or several type of energy, which we called Flames. And each Flame had its own characteristics and uses." a nod at the flame in her hand "This is the Flame of Night, one of the three Flames I used to have access to. I chose to keep this one because of its unique power.""Which is?" wondered Ed, curiosity itching A black portal appeared, and his sister disappeared under his disbelieving eyes, only to reappear a meter away "Transportation." she answered "Since I've just gained the power back, it's not really trained, so I can move only a few meters around, which isn't all that useful... Except in a fight..." a smile "But one day I may be able to go back to a place I've been before with barely a thought!"Ed nodded. Here again, he understood that the source of this gift wasn't alchemy, yet once more he could see alchemy eventually doing something similar.Echoing his thoughts, Ariana went on "These powers were learned in different worlds, but alchemy has just as much potential than any other power had elsewhere." ¤.¤.¤ "But why?" her brother finally asked, just like she knew he wouldA sigh "The reason is hypocritical I guess." she admitted "In my first life, my mother sacrificed herself to save my life when I was eighteen months old. I didn't know it at the time, but by the time I died, I learned two things... one was that the meddling of a bored goddess of Fate meant that I now was linked to the god of Death. The second was that Lilly Potter by saving me damned herself to purgatory, never to be reincarnated, always suffering." Ed's and Al's eyes darkened – both were intelligent, and numerous life or not, they knew their sister; knew how to read her emotions on her face, how she would react to things around her, all fondamental part of her temper that couldn't be changed easily.So when she said that, they knew that, one way or another, this wasn't something she could let stand – even if she had to sacrifice herself, she never would let someone else suffer for her.After all, their sister was a self-sacrificing idiot, they knew it all too well. They understood why she qualified herself of hypocritical, but disagreed – trying to bring someone back to life and trying to grant that person the chance to go on was different, no matter how you looked at it. "Because I was linked to Death, I couldn't be human anymore, yet I wasn't powerful enough to be a goddess. And only a powerful god can enter Purgatory..." Ed nearly rolled his eyes – seemed like he had been spot on "So they gave me another choice...""Reincarnation with your memories being a part of it." Al nodded sagely"Don't be a smart-ass, Al." Ed smacked his brother lightly "I'm the one who's supposed to be big-mouthed.""You're potty-mouthed, and loud-mouthed that's different." Al contradictedAriana laughed – and they counted it as a victory. "Reincarnation, Al was right, but not anywhere..." a smile "The Mortal Realms are filled with different worlds, but in all of these worlds, one thing never changes... War...""The homunculus!" Al exclaimed "You've been born here to take care of it!""Not exactly..." Ariana laughed "I've been reincarnated near the people who would defeat it..." Ed and Al shared a glance, then suddenly, Ed realized "You don't mean us, don't you?" her answering smile made his eyes widened "But how, why...""I don't know exactly, mind you," Ariana admitted "But, if I hadn't been there during the failed transmutation, what would have happened?" "I was ready to bind Al's soul to the old armor in the basement." Ed remembered, mind working overtime "Then Colonel bastard would have come to recruit us, and without you, we wouldn't know about our idiotic father's history so..." he paled "I would have enrolled to find a way to give his body back to Al. And since I wouldn't know about how it was done, I would've gone after the Philosopher Stone.""Thus becoming entangled in the nation-wide conspiracy that is currently going on..." Al completed, eyes wide and face pale, before jumping to hug his sister "I'm really glad you're here, I like having a body!" Ed smiled at the spontaneous reaction, but he was still reeling in inside at the revelation – and yes, he too was really thankful for his sister's presence; not only because she saved Al's body; no he just couldn't imagine life with only two of them instead of three.And somehow, Al's being as kind and sweet as he was, he just could imagine how much worst his temperament would have been without his sister to contradict him and tell him when he was being stupid... ¤.¤.¤ "There is one more thing..." said Ariana "Because I'm helping the gods by being reincarnated with my memories, some of them shared gifts...""Life your soul-sensing thing?""No, this is the first of the powers I developed as a goddess in training." she admitted "It is far less powerful than Death's Soul Art, but well, I'm living in a human body. And mortal weren't made to endure holy powers..." she explained "Fate gave me an summary of what to expect in each world. Which isn't all that extensive, mind you, mainly: the power used is this, the reason you're here is to help that person...""Fate sounds a bit stingy." muttered Ed "Isn't it her fault in the first place you're stuck to Death?" "It is." she nodded "But well, that's better than nothing... But the one gift that is really useful, is the one Chaos gave me." At that, Ed and Al shared glance, then burst out laughing "It is so fitting." finally manage to articulate AlAriana's cheeks reddened, as she remembered Chaos saying something similar before she was reincarnated... She didn't really sow Chaos everywhere she went did she? As if reading her mind, Padfoot nodded and she glared at him "Traitor." she muttered at the mutt that looked just as amused as her brothers"Speaking about Padfoot..." "He is a human who chose to be reincarnated as the familiar of a god to be able to stay with me." a warm smile blossomed on her face at that without even realize it "He was my godfather in my first life, and he died when I was fifteen..."Edward opinion of his sister's mutt, which had always been pretty high if only for the fact that he was the best bodyguard she could have, rose even higher at that – a man that hadn't left family behind even in death? That he could definitely respect. "So, what is Chaos' gift?" asked Al, finally recovered from his laughing crisis"He made my life into a game." seeing her brothers incomprehension, she prepared herself for lengthy explanations – video games didn't exist in this world after allThankfully, Ed and Al were genius, so explaining things to them was easier than she had feared."So... Now you know everything, I think..." [Hidden Quest Complete! The weight of Truth!Doesn't it feel better now that all the family is on your little secret, Shadow?Reward:+100XP, Edward Elric and Alphonse Elric added to Chaos Game 2.0][Level up! You are now level 30!+2CP, +1SP, +1PP][Perk available:- Smooth Talker: double rate of learning Communication and Awareness Skills- Natural Killer: double rate of learning Weapon and Range Skills- Fighter's Mind: double rate of learning Survival and Ground Skills] Ariana saw her two brothers eyes widened – and reading the newest notification, she could guess why.Sighing, she grumbled "Chaos is enjoying this way too much..." all the while thinking about the Perks available – she had unlocked the Science Nerd Perk at level 20, which had helped tremendously with her cramming for the national exam, and now she wanted to be able to defend herself better – so she confirmed the Natural Killer Perk quickly ¤.¤.¤ After that, her brothers had spent most of their downtime exploring the information and opportunities opened by the new tool added to their arsenal that was Chaos Game – and Ariana was smiling a lot more, finally free of the secrets that had eaten at her.She didn't feet alone anymore. The day Ariana finally told the truth to her brothers change the dynamics of the trio – who grew even more tightly knitted, but it was only when Winry commented on it that Edward realized how much everything had changed "Before, Ariana always watched what she was saying around you two, you know." she admitted one night to Edward, as the younger two were sleeping "She was afraid that you'd stop liking her if you learned the truth about her."He startled at that "You mean... you know?" "I don't," she denied "I know she's different, but it's not really my place to ask is it? Not as long as you two didn't know?" a shrug "If there is one thing she's got in common with you, it's that family means everything to her." she trailed "Now that you know maybe I'll ask, one day." a smile "After all, we may not be blood related, but the three of you are family nonetheless, aren't you?"Ed blushed at that affirmation – and found himself thinking that even if she was loud, and a tomboy, and obsessed with automail, he didn't mind adding Winry to his small family.And granny Pinako, of course. He also realized that the decision to talk, that day, was one that had changed the rest of his life – and that he didn't regret it a bit. Nor did he ever want to forget why he had to talk...It may have been a year ago that the change started when he encountered Truth, but it was when they discovered all of who an what his sister really was that the change finally was complete. He looked at the heavy watch in his pocket - "to change this country" he had said, in order not to make his sister cry a year ago.At that time, it had mainly been empty words.Now he knew what his life would have been like without Ariana, now he understood a bit more her self-sacrificing idiocy. Because that night had changed him, and one of the realization he had made during it was that if a girl had accepted being reincarnated in this world just to help him save this country, who was he not to at least try? With that in mind, he clapped his hands, and a small inscription appeared within the pocket watch. ¤.¤.¤ "You know," he said to Winry that was silently looking at the stars by his side "I never realized last year how big it was...""What?""Our country...Isn't it arrogant to want and save them all? We are just human after all." "This is precisely why we can be arrogant. We are human, so small in the universe, yet we manage to accomplish things so much bigger than us when we find our will." a shrug "It won't be easy, nor will everyone be saved. But if your actions save even one person, isn't it worth it?"A smile "Ari really should have been the eldest you know, she is the one taking care of us and making us grow up...""You take care of her too." Winry corrected with a gentle smile "Otherwise she wouldn't smile."He smiled at that affirmation, thankful that his childhood friend helped him realize something that important – Ari was smiling.And for now, that was good enough for him... Even if he knew they had changed, and felt it deeply, Ed certainly didn't expect the colonel's first comment when they came back to be "You grew up. You understand the weight of this watch now.""I wasn't a very good brother before, and it had to change." he admitted "So yes, I guess I grew up..." an impish smile "But don't worry, it doesn't mean I'll suddenly start respecting authority or anything stupid like that!"Roy sighed at the affirmation while the rest of the office laughed, and Breda asked "So the triplets, ready to start working?" "The triplets?" Ed raised an eyebrow "Really?""Well, shorter than saying all three names or titles or ranks!""I don't know, Major Elric does sound good doesn't it?" laughed the eldest"Except there's no way of differentiating us with that title..." said Al, rolling his eyes "So, do you already have a job for us?" asked Ari, ignoring her brothers antics with ease"As a matter of fact, I do."She opened the folder he'd given her with his answer, eyes rapidly taking in the summary "Helping the civilians to change the opinion about State Alchemists eh?" he smirked at her fast mind "But you do realized that if only the three of us are doing this...""Then you'll be the one gaining a reputation." a nod "I do. But it will be enough to spread the opinion that not all State Alchemists are military dogs that have forgotten their first law." "Alchemists, thou be for the people." she smiled "We'll do this." "It will also allow you to move freely anywhere in the East, so if you hear or see anything strange, go for it.""Don't we have reports to file or anything like that?" Al wondered, the two brothers having finally joined back to the talk"Don't gave him bad ideas, Al!" Ed protested"A report per city, and another one for anything of importance. And at least a report a month." Roy stated, before taking another thing out from his desk "Here." Ari took back her notebook, not noticing the stares around them as the colonel smiled at her "And this, of course, we have to respect equivalent exchange, don't we?" She accepted the second notebook, eyes widening – these were the colonel own notes.Even if she had shared her notes easily, she certainly hadn't expected for the man to repay her with his own research; after all Ed had said it, she couldn't help but act differently toward the colonel - how couldn't she, knowing whom he had once been? Even if he had changed in this life, there was still too much of the same man for her to be able to ignore her feelings... Behind her, Ed was glaring at Roy, and Al enjoying the surprised reactions of the rest of the team – apparently they were finding the colonel's interactions with Ari worth noticing, even if he didn't really understand why.Alchemists working together weren't all that common, but still, these kind of reaction were over the top...Of course, the young boy couldn't know that the other soldiers present, since they had known their superior officer for far longer than them, were still reeling in from the fact that the colonel wasn't acting as guarded with Ari as with anyone else – the only person they saw Roy act so freely with was Maes Hughes, who was his best friend, and Riza Hawkeye, who was nearly family! Weeks blended into months, and soon, 1911 was replaced by the year 1912."You know," mused Ari "Our next train is taking us really close to the border with the South, should we go and visit teacher?" Her brothers answer was, predictably, to freeze – Roy had to hid his amusement, and the rest of the team watched on in awe, wondering who could elicit such a drastic reaction from loud-mouthed, authority recalcitrant Ed. "She's going to kill us when she finds out what we did..." Al whispered, tears gathering in his eyes"She already knows.""We're dead. Wait! What do you mean she already knows?" Ed shouted loudly"Indoor voice, FullMetal." Roy complained from his desk"There's a reason why there's a door between your office and the rest of us lowly peasants!" the boy bit back without missing a beat"Somehow I just can't keep my peace of mind with my door close, I'd rather know what insane plan you're scheming rather than discover them too late!" "My plans aren't that bad!"Al coughed, but it suspiciously resembled a "What plans?" As for Ari, she was completely ignoring her brothers, apparently having gotten a hold on the military line and speaking with someone "WindBlade, military lines aren't for personal calls!" Roy sighed"Of course not, colonel." she answered with a smile "It's a purely professional call to my teacher. She's helping me with something for the next annual evaluation." a last "Yes, of course teacher, I'll see you soon." and she hung upAl was looking a her with wide eyes "You don't mean that...""I've been in regular contact with teacher? Of course! She's been waiting to see how long it would take for the two of you to have the guts to come and visit, but since you're taking way too long she's becoming impatient, so she told me to just drag you to Dublith." Ed turned toward the colonel's office "Just so you know, it's totally your fault.""I've never even met your teacher! How can it be my fault?""If you hadn't called Ari a housewife that day, Ari wouldn't had chosen teacher as a role model! You'll see, one day you too will regret it!""A housewife?" snorted Havoc from his desk "I don't think housewives are supposed to love playing with sharp objects that much...""You've never seen teacher." Al sighed in answer ¤.¤.¤ "Well, maybe I should inform South City that the infamous Elric Siblings are coming into their territory?" Roy wondered "I'm sure they'll have a job or two for you!""What! Nope, no way, rejected!" Ed denied swiftly "Dublith is days away from South City! We're not going there!""Well we could always go and get our evaluation done there." mused Ari "The Southern Military are still in conflict with Aruego aren't they?""That they are." Roy nodded "There have been several skirmishes around Fotset so they are a bit under-staffed right now." a smile "So as a show of cooperation and goodwill between region, it is my duty to help as I can, isn't it?" "You mean using us as your pawns to gain a reputation boost in the South that won't do anything good to your ego, don't you." translated Ed casually"I want you to check something on your way to Dublith." added the colonel, suddenly more serious, while giving Ariana a folderLeafing thought it, her eyes widened and she nodded her agreement - this was worth checking, and potentially dangerous. Their main goal while helping around in the East ever since they became State Alchemist hadn't only been the reputation boost that would help to get their team stationed in Central City, where it would more dangerous, but also easier to investigate what the homunculus was doing.They had three other goals – first, identify the places where the military had voluntarily shed blood for the nation-wide array, then from there try and identify the other points where conflicts would arise to prevent the bloodshed.This a was a frustrating job, as for every action they took to help people and calm tense situations down, there was always someone in the shadows worsening the situation soon after they were gone. Knowing that they only manage to delay the inevitable was giving the three of them sleepless night, as they learned that people they had helped were then caught in the bloodshed only a few months after. But it was better than not trying anything. Their second objective, as much as it annoyed Ed, was to find their father.The man was the one person that knew the most about what was going on while they were stumbling around in the dark, so having more knowledge about the situation would be good. Except, of course, that he wasn't anywhere to be found... And finally, their third goal was to find how the circle for the horrific transmutation the homunculus was intending was being carved into the country. Xerxes' king had used the pretext of making a nation-wide irrigation system to do so, but nothing similar was going on in Amestris. In other words, they felt like they had barely accomplished anything since they decided to save their country. "You brats took your sweet time coming." Izumi commented, looking at the two brothers standing terrified in front of herThen, she bopped them on the head with a sigh "Idiots. Even after your sister and I spent so much time telling you not to, you still went ahead with it eh? Students aren't supposed to repeat their teacher's mistakes!" "Eh!" then Ed's eyes widened, as he wondered why he hadn't realized earlier – of course she had seen Truth too, with her sickly disposition and ability to make alchemy without a circle, it was evident"I think we were too afraid of her reaction to think about it properly..." Al whispered next to him, having come to the same conclusion at the same timeHe nodded, then admitted to the woman "We're sorry..."So much that the word wasn't enough – but that was alright, because better than anyone else, she understood. She too, had been sorry for a long time, before she learned to accept her mistakes. "Well, now that you're finally here perhaps you'll tell me what the hell you were thinking by enrolling! Dogs of the military? Really?" a frown "Ari didn't want to tell me on the phone, so I guess it must be pretty important..."Ed threw a glanced around – they were still at the rail station. Completely by-passing the question, he loudly announced "I'm starving!""I can cook something once we get at your home." his sister suggested to their alchemy master "After all, you always complain that you miss my cooking, teacher." Izumi's eyes widened a bit – it wasn't evident for anyone else, but she knew the siblings well enough that she recognized the diversion for what it was.Whatever it was that made them enroll, it wasn't something they wanted to talk about in public."Well you did have a long ride, and you are growing kids." With that, they were soon back at the butcher shop owned by the Curtis couple – around the meal, the conversation was kept pretty light until Izumi asked "Why were you late? At first you were supposed to arrive with yesterday's train...""We made a stop in the East." Al admitted "There was a rumor that floated around that said that someone had manage a human transmutation.""Impossible. Except..." "Except if they had a Philosopher Stone." Ed agreed "So we went to check it. Knowledge about that blasted stone shouldn't be laying around...""What do you mean?""That stone... isn't something that should exist... Even if its properties are really impressive..." Al answered – knowing better than to lie to their teacher "Because the main ingredient to create it isn't something alchemist should play with...""Humans souls and life." Ari stated flatly "That's how you make a Red Stone. You take a bunch of people, and you kill them in a circle made specifically for it and you trap their souls in eternal torment."Izumi's eyes widened – no wonder Alphonse was looking so disturbed. The siblings were right, this wasn't knowledge that should be left free to be found. "So?""It was an old man that tried to bring back the daughter of his employer, that he considered like family." a sigh, and Ari went on "Truth took his eyes, and his employer told him that the transmutation was a success...""But of course, it was a lie. What he brought back was... not human, yet somehow alive, like an empty shell..." Ed explained, shuddering "His employers didn't have the heart to tell him that he lost his eyes for nothing. So they adopted a little girl, and she acts as if she was their real daughter." "It was really sad." Al whispered "For all of them...""But at least there was no hint of Philosopher Stone." Ari added "So we just spread a few rumors that it wasn't human transmutation but only alkahestry, that the girl had been sick but not dead... So they shouldn't be at risk." ¤.¤.¤ "What do you mean?" asked Izumi at that "It's not the first time you mention the fact that people finding too much about human transmutation were at risk...""It's only a hunch," Ed admitted "But it is tied with the reason why we enrolled.""The day we went thought the practical part of the national exam, Fuhrer Bradley was interested... interested, not surprised at our circle-less alchemy." said Al "Colonel Mustang was observing him. It's only when he saw sister's alchemy that he was surprised, and then it was no simple surprise at an impressive feat. It was surprise at seeing something that shouldn't be possible at all, something dangerous." "In other words, it's probable that the Fuhrer knew exactly where our gift came from, but not Ari's." concluded Ed "And the fact that he didn't do anything about us when he knows we've gone against one of the laws means he's got a use for us. Or rather, for alchemists that saw Truth." Izumi nodded, understanding better why Ari had stressed, several time, the need for her to be careful about what was said about her abilities.She had no intention to be used by the ruthless bastard that had painted their country red ever since he started leading it. Oh sure, not everyone realized it – but for people that knew how to look at things it was evident; Amestris had been ripe with conflicts ever since King Bradley became Fuhrer, and his way of ending conflicts usually involved blood.Lots of it. Which meant Izumi was horrified, but not entirely surprised at the story her students told her when they explained why they decided to take the State Alchemist exam."So... King Bradley is the homunculus?""Not the original one." Ari denied "He doesn't have enough souls within him for this, and he's got a human feeling to him that father doesn't have. I think he was made by the original one. " They spent the following weeks in Dublith and in the countryside around it – taking over as much of the missions for the region they could from South City. The General in charge of South City had been more than happy to unload part of his district's work on them; like Roy had said, the Southern Army had its hands full with the conflict with Aruego. [Side Quest! The enemy of my enemy is...Goal: locate Dublith's illegal gambling denReward: +25XP per goal, +1 beginner characteristic tome upon completion] "Really," Al sighed "Tasking kids with dismantling an illegal gambling ring? They really need more people if they're down to giving us jobs like that.""Ah, don't complain," Ed waved off "It should be fun!""You're only saying this because you've got a problem with money games!""I don't! I only play poker on the train in order not to get bored!" "And to rob blind unsuspecting travelers." Ari added, sharing a knowing glance with Al"They deserve it for thinking children are an easy prey!""Still," Al mused "I'm curious to see what's so important about this gambling den... After all, it's a Side Quest not just a basic weekly one. Must means something..." "Well," Ari mumbled "Wonder no more... My Soul Art is now in range of one homunculus, and my Blood Art can feel that several of the people nearby have been heavily modified. Against their will, according to their soul's feeling." [Goal complete!+25XPGoal update: meet the leader of the illegal ring] "Well, seems like the intel was right then." Ed said, looking at the dirty and run-down front entrance of the Devil's Den, the pub that apparently was supposed to be the cover for the illegal ring ¤.¤.¤ "What are you kids doing here!" a loud voice asked"You know," Ed smiled brightly "We're just looking around, there's no need to be so violent, after all, you just said it... We're just kids...""Well kids don't have anything to do here, now scram!" a second voice shouted "Such violence," Ed sighed disapprovingly "You are going to shock my little siblings, I really can't condone such an attitude, take me to your boss!" he commended imperiouslyAt that, the first man burst out laughing "Yeah right! You didn't understand, midget? Get out of here! This place ain't for normal people!"Al and Ari shared a glance, wondering how long Ed would be able to hold his temper in – then got their answer the next second "You know people who are trying to hide something illegal really shouldn't act so fucking conspicuous and shouldn't go around insulting military personnel, you fucking dumb-arses!" Ed shouted, fist aiming at the tall man's stomach The others' eyes widened as the tallest of them doubled-over in pain "What the... A kid shouldn't be so strong! Scratch that, a human shouldn't be so strong!""Do I really need to repeat myself?" Ed wondered, before taking out his watch "I'm the FullMetal Alchemist and I'm here to put a stop to your little traffic.""He's hogging all the attention isn't he?" Al asked his sister"And the fight." she confirmed "We can't let that stand." With that, they stepped toward the fight that was starting – and within moments, they made their way in the pub, mostly empty as it was the middle of the day. Dragging her last opponent in, Ari dropped herself on one of the stool at the counter, letting out a despondent sigh "I can't believe they're so bad you know." she stated at her brother, who was knocking out another man "I mean, clearly they aren't completely human, look at lizard-man there...""I'm a crocodile!" "Yeah yeah, still. All of them are part animal and babbling about us normal humans not having anything to do here...""Sis, you're no normal human either." Al laughed"Still... They should at least have the decency to put up a good fight!" Ariana groaned as she finished to clean up Fuurin's blade Ed laughed at that, and sat by the other twos under the barman's disbelieving eyes "Well, what are you waiting for?" he finally asked the still man"I'm sorry but I can't serve anything to children under fifteen..." he stammered"Too bad..." Ari sighed "Nothing beats an iced beer after a good fight... Not that the fight was good anyway..." she eyed the counter and shrugged "Oh well, the beer probably isn't great either...""We're not here to drink!" Ed barked, both at his sister and the barman"Well, it is a bar..." Al pointed out"We want to see the leader of this illegal joke!""Joke?" a new voice asked "That's not nice." [Goal complete! +25XPGoal update: destroy the Den and kill Greed and his men or ally with them]Level up! You are now level 37!+1SP] ¤.¤.¤ "I think the boss is here." Ari commented lightly, eyeing the new-comer with gleaming eyes "And he is even less human than his subordinates.""You've got something against non-humans, little girl?""No I don't really care." Ari shrugged in answer, ignoring Ed's surprised sputter at the 'little girl' comment"Then why did you kill all my men?""We didn't kill anyone." Al corrected "They're only knocked out." "And we did ask politely first, but their only answer was insults." Ed added "So we had to be a bit more persuasive...""Ah, I guess my subordinates can be a bit rash sometimes." he admitted "So, what do you want with me?""Us personally? Nothing. The military in general... For you to close this dump." Ed answered bluntly "Well I may have business with him..." Ari corrected, her sweet smile gaining a new threatening depth to it "Are you the one who did this to your men?""Did what?""Don't fuck with me!" the young girl snarled, hand slamming on the wooden counter and leaving a dent that made the barman pale "All of them were forcefully messed-up with!""How do you know we didn't want it?" asked weakly one man that was regaining consciousness, animosity gone under the shock of witnessing the girl that had just beaten them up so easily trembling in barely contained fury for them"Ari is an empath." Al said calmly "It wasn't him." said the man "On the contrary, mister Greed saved us. He's a good boss." a snort "It's kind of you to worry for us kid, but the one who did this to us are the ones who hold your leash.""Human transmutation with animals sanctioned by the military then? Somehow I'm not surprised." Ari commented with a sigh and a roll of her eyes"Oh?" Greed picked up, intrigued at their lack of shock "The country is led by a... creature... like you after all. Don't tell me you don't know?""Do you mean to tell me you know what I am, little girl?""Ariana." she interrupted "My name is Ariana Elric, WindBlade Alchemist, so drop the 'little girl', it's irritating, homunculus." "So you really do know. And you're telling me the Fuhrer is one too?""Don't act is if you didn't know." Ed snorted"I didn't." a shrug "After all, I ran away from Father's grasp a century ago...""Father? Is it how you call the original one?" wondered Al "How come little kids like you knows so much about something so dark?" wondered Greed "No better, how is it that you're still alive among the military when you have such knowledge? Are you working with him?" a look of intense dislike quickly passed on the three kids "No, clearly not...""We want to stop your Father." Aria stated calmly"And you think you stand a chance against him? Just the three of you?" he laughed "There's a reason I ran rather than try to get rid of him!""Who said we were alone?" That made him pause. ¤.¤.¤ "Well, why don't we go and talk in my office? It looks like we've got a lot to talk about." he turned toward the barman "Close the Den and patch up the men, Marc, I'll take it from here.""Of course mister Greed!" "You know," Ariana commented "You're surprisingly bad at running your illegal traffic for someone so old."At that, both Greed and the two Elric stumbled."And I suppose you know better, little girl?""As a mater of fact, I do." a sweet smile, and Fuurin's blade was suddenly red "And I told you not to call me like that." The wound wasn't deep, and with the homunculus fast healing was gone in seconds, but it still took him by surprise – something he wasn't used to.The homunculus eyes sparkled with interest – then Edward struck his shin with his reinforced boot "Don't look at my little sister like that you creepy pedo!""What the! I'm not!" he protested hotly, glaring at the eldest sibling "Can we go back to more important topics?" Ari sighed, as they entered Greed's office "You know, the homunculus who wants to kill every living soul in our country? Or the fact that a man a century old didn't manage to learn how to hide effectively his illegal activities behind a respectable front?""My illegal activities are hidden behind a front!""Your Devil's Den nearly has 'Shifty Dealings Going On Here' written in sparkling letters on its front!" the young girl retorted back "It doesn't look respectable in the least! You should on the contrary be completely clean here, to put the investigators off your back, and have another, more normal looking business to hide the illegal trades elsewhere. Preferably under another name, but not necessarily." "Well, seems Ari wasn't joking when she said she was number two of an international illegal trade empire in her previous life..." Ed commented, amused, as the girl went on to enumerate a number of things Greed should do in order not to get caught and improve his business"You think she remembers our job was to close down the illegal trade?" Al wondered as Greed and her looked to be pretty deep in talks about how to better manage his trade After a few minutes, Ariana's ire was finally calmed down, and they were back to 'Father'."I really don't want anything to do with that man," Greed sighed "But if this den was found it was only a matter of time until he found me. And I've got no intention whatsoever of going back. I don't want to disappear.""What do you mean?" "Father, he creates us by taking a part of him out. So he can reabsorb us easily. And I'm Greed, I want everything, so there's no way I'm letting myself disappearing back into him before I got everything I want!""If you're Greed, does this means there are six others named after sins?" Al wondered"We're not named after sins, we're literally incarnation of these sins." Greed answered"So the homunculus her creates are... off-shots of him in which he drops his sins?" Ed snorted "Man, he really is full of himself." ¤.¤.¤ "And stupid. What he did sure as hell didn't erase his sins from himself, and it created unbalanced being." Ariana commented – Greed didn't seemed to resent the 'unbalanced' comment "So tell me, Greed..." the homunculus wondered what was going on as suddenly the little girl in front of him felt much more power full, her eyes glowing green "Would you rather give up your immortal body and never risk being absorbed back into your Father or keep your immortality and disappear when we defeat him?" Somehow, even thought he'd usually laugh at such an unlikely proclamation, he couldn't just now.Because right now, the girl looked about as little human as Father did.So he took the answer seriously "Isn't it evident?" he stated "If I loose my immortality, I can still find it back another way... But if I'm reabsorbed by Father, then it's all over!""Good answer." The next moment, all he could feel was pain, and a power rushing around him different from anything he'd ever seen – then there was white, and a strange archway."Back again, little Shadow?""I've got a present for you.""A philosopher stone?" the invisible being smile widely "My, you're spoiling me." "Death asked me to get him back the missing souls, so I'm delivering.""Yet there is one soul still attached to this body.""Yes, there is." she nodded "With the souls of his philosopher stone freed, he is a mortal, so his soul will get back to the cycle naturally.""Only because you were kind enough to attune his body and soul together. He would be dead otherwise." The invisible being turned toward Greed "Welcome, homunculus. I am Truth, Or, if you prefer, God. Well, the one in charge of this world. As for you, you've just been cut from the souls that were keeping you alive as a homunculus." at that, Greed's eyes widened "Don't worry, you're not dying, the Shadow here was good enough to struck a bargain for you..." "What do you mean?""Because of her... talents... Our little Shadow here could tie your consciousness and body together with one soul. In other words, you're now truly alive. The philosopher stone has been accepted as payment." the smile disappeared "Don't forget, you're not human, even if you're compatible with them, so you still won't be able to do alchemy, but your body retained its powers. Just don't get killed, as it would now be quite deadly this time. Enjoy your life free from your creator!" ¤.¤.¤ And with that, they were back in his office."I can't believed you opened the Gate, just like that!" Ed was shouting, shaking his sister that seemed a bit unsteady and really weary "Warn a guy before doing something like that!""The last time we lost our arm and most of your life expectancy!" Al added, just as wound up, "And you look like you could sleep for a week!""I didn't lose anything this time." Ariana reassured "I'm sorry I made you worried, I thought you knew...""We know you used the Red Stone as passage few, but still..." Ed's voice was hoarse "Still..." Greed had the feeling he was intruding – but well, it was his office, and in a way, his fault the girl had worried her brothers like that.That's when he suddenly realized "I'm... feeling different...""You are different." Ariana confirmed "Like I said, you were unbalanced with one feeling much more powerful than any other. You've got the whole range of normal humans feelings now, so you'll be different. But you're still you." a smile "And free." After that, they had talked a bit more – the three siblings needed it to look like they had shut down Greed's traffic, so he would lay low for a while, and take a few of the little girl's – Ariana's – advice.They set up a few coded phrases that would allow them to identify allies sent between them, and Greed shared more information with them about Father's plan – the most important one being the exact date the nation-wide array was set to be activated – spring 1915, when during the equinox a full solar eclipse would occur. This was the Promised Day Father was preparing for... "Three years to stop him, eh?" Al stated with a smile – somehow, knowing the deadline for apocalypse made it easier, rather than wondering each day when the end would come like they had been ever since Ariana told them what she had learned from Von Hohenheim [Side Quest Complete!+25XP, 1 beginner characteristic tome added to InventoryHidden Goal! My own person...Greed is now free from FatherReward: +50XP, Arena System unlocked, Homunculus Greed added to Boss List] "Arena System?" wondered Al as they left the Devil's Den "What is it?""Powerful enemies encountered during my three life are listed and can be fought in the Arena. And the fact that people cannot die in the Arena makes it interesting to test oneself in a big fight without too much risks, but you can fight each Boss only once a week." she explained Al nodded, and Ed smiled "Good, I would feel better punching that Greed guy at least once!""I don't see what made you so sure he was a pedophile.""He was looking at you funny.""That was interest, not lust, Ed.""Ah, it may start with interest but who knows where it'll stop!""Brother, you are paranoiac." Al sighedAs for Ari – she wondered how he'd coped with the multiple assassins that had been vying for her attention in her previous life... ¤.¤.¤ When they got back to Izumi's place, they informed her of the happenings of the day, seeing as she did live full time in Dublith contrary to them. It was only later that night, as they were in bed, that Al said "You know, I feel bad for mister Greed's subordinates. I mean, they are Chimera now, and a lot of them didn't look all that human, so it must be hard for them to go around in the world. In the Devil's Den nobody looked back twice at them but now that it's closed...""It will open back eventually." Ariana pointed out "But I get what you mean. Being unable to show your true face isn't easy... I've got my illusion, but they've got nothing to hide..." "What do you mean your illusion?"Ariana snorted – she'd become so used to it, since her marking weren't really something that could be explained away in Amestris, that she had forgotten to mention it to her brothers..."I've got a power called Soul Imprint." she said "And it's exactly as it sound, when something has a big enough impact on me, it gets imprinted on my soul rather than only my current body...""You mean like the automail scars right now could still be visible in your body in the next life?" wondered Al [Automail Scars (+2 Strength, +1 Endurance ) added to Soul Imprint] A groan. "Exactly like that. Please don't give Chaos any other stupid idea." a sigh, as she admitted to herself that she had been expecting this for a while – being outfitted with automail was an important part of this life, notably because she had also lost a mark with her arm, and still mourned the absence of the Hand-fasting Mark containing the echoes of the feelings Renato had for her in her previous life Taking her mind away from the depressing thought, she went back to explain "The pearl in my hair was a gift in my previous life. It lets me activate and deactivate an illusion that hid the marks from my previous life that couldn't be explained...""Show us." Ed demanded immediately, plopping to her bed"We're in the dark, brother." Al corrected, amused – but getting out of his bed too nonetheless"There's moonlight." he shrugged "If these marks are a part of you, we should know about them." a smirk "Who knows, it can even come in handy one day if someone try to impersonate you!" Ariana snorted but still dropped her illusion, then, at her eldest brother's demand, went on to explain each markThe three siblings fell asleep on her bed together, Ariana's marking still visible... ¤.¤.¤ "You shouldn't have sent them to the South if it was to spent your time moping around while the siblings aren't here.""I'm not moping around."Riza snorted, and answered back "You're doing all your paperwork without complaining, you went from two to three dates a week. You miss the Elric siblings and you're bored because they're not here."Roy sighed. That was the problem with trusted subordinates – Riza knew him far too well, sometime better than he knew himself.He hadn't even realized himself what he was doing until she pointed it to him, but it was true.He was bored. With the three young alchemists on his team, life had become far more interesting in the Eastern Headquarters, as even when they weren't there, word still got back about their latest feat. And with East City being their headquarter, the siblings were never gone more than three months in a row.But with his idiotic idea of sending them as temporary dispatch to the South, they'd been gone for six months. Six months!And word got back a lot slower about their latest stunt from so far away. He had a least three new fire theory he wanted to discuss with Ari, and one idea about an array mixing air and flames he was pretty sure would open up a lot of new possibilities if only he could get it to work rather than explode that he was sure the youngest Elric would enjoy... "Why don't you call them to check on them?""I'm not worried about them.""Of course not.""But I guess, as their superior officer, it is my job to check than nothing too bad happened to them. After all I don't want to have the reputation of an uncaring officer.""Of course." She was mocking him. "I can't believe you can care so much about those three yet still manage to be so unfeeling toward all those pretty girls you go out with, colonel!" Havoc sighed"Well, maybe if any of these girls had half the brain Ari's got, I would care a bit more." he answered easily, before getting the phone, not noticing the chaos his answer was unleashing ¤.¤.¤ "Oh my god," was whispering Havoc to Breda "FullMetal was right, he will make a move on her if he learns she's a girl!"Breda snorted "With how it's going, he'll make a move on her even without knowing it!""Will you guys cut it out!" Fuery protested hotly, which wasn't usual from the easy-going guy "Ari is barely twelve, that's just creepy!""Ah but with how oblivious about himself the colonel is, she'll be grown up by the time he realizes he's interested!" "I'm sure the colonel is only interested in a strictly academic manner." Falman added in his usual stiff tone "They both are brilliant alchemists.""Ed and Al are brilliant too, yet the colonel doesn't spend so much time with them!" Havoc protested in a heated whisper"And well, even if it is probably only academical for now, who knows how it'll grow latter on..." Breda added merrily ¤.¤¤ Roy wondered what the hell his team was speaking about, as he waited for the call to be put through – the heated, but whispered discussion even managed to interest Falman, which was quite unusual, as the man still tended to be far too serious. He quickly forgot about it as he was finally awarded by a "Yes?""WindBlade.""Ah! Colonel! We were just talking about you," Ari proclaimed loudly – in the back ground he could here a familiar 'bastard' shouted "We're done with most of the work South City heaped on us, so we're going there tomorrow to give our last report and get our assessment done with, then we're coming back. We'll brink souvenir for everyone, do you want anything?" He repressed the urge to answer 'For you to get back here right now' and smiled "Surprise me, WindBlade. And keep up the good work controlling your brother, I've only received three complaints about his unnecessary violence this time!" this time the background comment sounded like Al 'I can't believe people still thinks that Ed is the dangerous one' Roy smiled as he listened on the background banter – Riza had been right, he was missing the siblings. As he finally hung up, he noted that all the team was waiting on him to speak "What?""Well, what are the news?""This is a military office, not a gossip parlor!" he replied"Please colonel, that's not fair!" Fuery whined "They'll be back as soon as they're done with their annual assessment. So by the end of the week."The news was received with cheers, and Havoc noted "We have to prepare a welcome back party!"The team spent the rest of the hours debating about what they wanted to do for the Elric siblings return – and not a lot more work was done that day; but really Roy couldn't fault his subordinates for it when he was just as restless as them for those three return. Chapter VI: 1913-1914 Ariana stepped out of the train with her brothers, numerous people thanking them around "Welcome back, FullMetal, EarthBreaker, WindBlade and... what the hell happened on this train?""An idiot tried to rob us." Al shrugged "And he called brother a..." he glanced at his brother, confirming he wasn't hearing them "A shrimp. It didn't end well for the would be robber." Roy snorted, and Al asked "So, what gives us the honor of you meeting us at the station, colonel? Trying to ditch your date with paperwork yet again?""Why do you three insist on calling me a slacker?" he protested"Because the others can't since they respect hierarchy, so they rely on us to remind you of it.""Where the hell did Ari disappear to?" Ed wondered as he finally managed to escape the well-wishersThe colonel started to look around too – and with his height advantage, saw that the youngest alchemist was... "Why are you hiding, WindBlade?""I'm not! Well maybe a little," she admitted "but I had to escape..." a slight blush" That kid didn't want to let go of me..." her eyes widened "He wanted me to 'come and play' with him!"At that, Roy laughed "You do realize that its what normal children do, don't you?""Yes, but seriously... Can you imagine me? Playing with other children my age?" a shudder "They cry when the scorch their knees, and are afraid of blades, and...""Alright, alright," he snickered "No playing with children for you." truth was she was right – he couldn't see her playing like a normal twelve year old "Here, for you to forget the horrors of playing children!" he said, getting his notes out from his uniform inner pocket The girl's eyes lightened and she immediately started to leaf trough the pages, barely looking around her – and using her soul sense and battleground awareness in order not to bump into anything. "So, colonel bastard," Ed teased "Missed us?""You couldn't believe how much I enjoyed the calm while you weren't here." he retorted "But the Southern Military were nearly begging me to take you back, too much collateral damages or something like that...""What! Bullshit!""Brother has made a lot of progress on repairing the damages he does when fighting." Al nodded "Teacher was a great help with it." "That woman really seems to be something!" he praised "Maybe I should invite her in East city sometimes...""What!" Ed protested immediately – but then, his eyes took on a wicked gleam "Oh yes, please do!""er... brother?" Al wondered"He's thinking about setting mister Curtis on the colonel." Ari answered, nose still in her newly obtained notebook "Oh!Oh..."Al laughed "Too bad it wouldn't work!""What! Why?" protested Ed"Well the colonel is always flirting with birdbrain idiots." Al shrugged casually "Which is why he never sees them twice.""Uh. Then why doesn't he goes out with an intelligent girl?" Ed wondered "You do realize I'm right here, don't you..." Roy sighed as they got to his car "And really, with my ambitions, does it look like I've got time to waste on a woman?""I hope you never said that in front of Maes..." Ari commented with a shudder of dread"I did. Once." he winced "Never again!""Still it is a pretty sad view of relationship." Al commented "It is." his sister nodded "Sometime, its in the darkest times that you find the most precious light for you after all.""Am I getting counseled by teenagers?" Roy wondered loudly "Where did I go wrong with my life for something like that to happen?" he commiserated"I'd say about the moment you were born." Ed answered automatically ¤.¤.¤ "So," Roy said as they arrived at the office "Now that you've all made fun of me," at that the rest of the team, that was pressing around to greet the three siblings laughed "I was promised a present and I want it.""Such a demanding man." Ariana laughed "Maybe that's the true reason why you can't keep a girl!""I told you, Ari," Ed commented "a bastard like him doesn't deserve any souvenirs!""And us?" Riza asked, amused at the Elric antics "Of course!" Al smiled, opening his messenger bag "There was a festival in Dublith just before we left, so to celebrate Ari's recovery we spent the whole day there!""Recovery?" Roy sharply stressed "What do you mean, recovery?""Er..." by now, the girl was blushing as every single person in the office was looking at her"Ari decided that physical limitations didn't apply to the WindBlade and used a very advanced alkahestry array to heal a man that had a really rare condition." Ed improvised – the best lies were the closest to the truth after all"But it was really hard and tiring, so Ari spent the next three day sleeping...""I'm alright now!" their sister protested at the accusing looks she was getting "And I already was lectured for hours by teacher!""She was right." Ed, Al and Roy commented as one, before sharing a surprised glance"Can we drop the matter?" the young girl pleaded "This kind of condition is really uncommon, so I probably wont have to do anything like that anytime soon." After that, the welcome back party the team had organized was back on track – with lots of food and teasing aimed at Edward's bottomless stomach. Within the hour, Roy and Ari had escaped to the colonel's office to debate about his new theories and were in deep conversation about the possibilities of mixing two kind of alchemy in the same circle rather than use several successive arrays, having forgotten everything about the rest of the team that was till loudly partying next door when Ed barged in "You shouldn't be alone with this bastard, Ari! It's not safe for you! After all he's already a womanizer, what's being a pedophile next to this?""Are you, yet again, implying that I'm trying to assault your little brother?" complained the colonel loudly"Well, if it fits." smirked Ed ¤.¤.¤ "You know," Havoc mused "I wonder who's the strongest between the colonel and FullMetal? I mean the colonel's got his flames, obviously, but FullMetal has gained quite a reputation as a close-ranged fighter...""Well, there's only one way to confirm it!" Breda loudly proclaimed "What about a fight between them?""Ah but the damages that would follow..." Fuery sighed "And we'd need the general authorization.""General Grumman just gave his authorization." Riza stated while hanging up the office phone "Yeah! Let's have a fight between East City's two strongest alchemists!" Havoc loudly proclaimed"Er..." Al interrupted "If it's a fight between the Colonel and the best fighter among us you want, it's not brother you should be asking for...""What?"Ed grinned "I'm the one that does the most damage around during a fight, but I'm a brawler more than anything else...""Then... Al?" a disbelieving Havoc asked"I don't really like to fight." denied the kind boy, not really surprising anyone "Ari?" he stated, even more incredulous, looking a the small and delicate silhouette that was already starting to change into that of a woman – how the colonel still hadn't caught up with the fact she was in fact female was starting to be a mystery for him"Well, Ari is the one who charged at the man that was attacking us with only a knife and no alchemy at seven year old." Ed shrugged "Don't mistake Ari's usual calm for pacifism.""I thought you were joking when you said Ari was a knife-maniac..." Breda admitted"So... A match between the colonel and Ari then?" a sigh from Havoc "Ah but it seems a lot less wild..." At that, Ed and Al burst out laughing, and pointed toward the open door of the colonel's office, the two already assessing each other with maniac grins. "Never mind." the Second Lieutenant breathed at the blood-thirsty atmosphere that had suddenly appeared"I thought the colonel didn't like fighting because of the war?" Fuery asked, feeling a bit clueless"Killing helpless civilians isn't fighting." Falman explained calmly, before adding "Colonel, the courtyard is cleared up if you want to." As the team made it's way to said courtyard, that was indeed clear, but had a lot of people loitering around, clearly waiting for them, Al couldn't help but wonder if people in the Military district really were that bored that so many of them dropped their work as soon as the word got around that two alchemists would fight.There were some disappointment in the crowd as it became apparent that FullMetal wasn't the one fighting – but then, the fight started, and any disappointment was swiftly forgotten. ¤.¤.¤ The second Al had declared the start of th fight, Ariana had jumped forward, Fuurin in her left hand, dancing between the explosions coming her way with an uncanny precision, before jumping toward the colonel – who leaned back to dodge and already was out of her way.She tried to get him with a volley of blades like the one she'd used during her exam, but he had learned from then and dodged low before sprinting toward her – provoking surprise among the bystander, after all wasn't the Flame Alchemist renowned as a long range fighter? "It's not that he specializes in it." Riza corrected as Fuery asked this "It's just that most of the time he doesn't need anything else." an amused smile "I don't think I've ever seen him go all out against his opponent. They just aren't worth it most of the time.""But WindBlade may well be just that good." Breda mused as the two alchemists danced around each other"Ah, but she's still young, so he's got the experience advantage." A large fire ball was sent back to it's owner with a gush of wind, then Ari had to dodge as the other was suddenly coming at her with a short but heavy blade that she didn't even know he had on him – apparently it had been hidden in his right boot. Hand snapping toward the ground she made a wall while jumping side-way rather than backward – except of course the colonel wasn't stupid and had guessed correctly at her move. "Wow," Al commented, a bit awed "Sis really is having fun.""It's not often that she finds another fighting freak like her." Ed pointed out "Most people we know only fight to defend themselves, or for work. Not because they like it. The colonel bastard was hiding himself well, I hadn't even noticed he was just as bad as her." then suddenly a despaired groan, as he had a revelation "This means they're going to spent even more time together doesn't it?"The rest of the team laughed at his showy despair, while Al patted his back reassuringly. "Did she just used a fireball too?" Breda muttered a disbelieving"She did." Riza nodded "She does know the same kind of alchemy as the colonel.""But... I thought wind was her thing?" Havoc muttered"Ah! That!" Ed burst out laughing, remembering about it "When we went through the exam, that was among her worst skill... On the other hand, she's a natural pyro" Riza eyes widened at that affirmation – she had know the three kids were good, Roy had said as much after the exam, but that good?More impressive even, the fact that she had the kind of battle awareness only seasoned fighters or naturals had, using the ground around her to her advantage, taking good guesses at her opponent tactics and actions...And the colonel too, did look like he was enjoying himself – which, like she had said earlier, didn't happen all that often as he had difficulties finding a good enough, or interesting enough opponent. As for Ariana – the fight was exhilarating, but what really caught her attention somewhere along the way, was that... He moved and fought a lot like in his previous life – which shouldn't be possible, souls were wiped clean of any memories when then went through reincarnation.But there was no denying it was there, the uncanny grace and ability to guess at her more unpredictible moves. Yet, she knew that he didn't have his memories, that was evident – changed appearance or not, he would have recognized her. So what could be going on? The girl had to repress a frustrated groan as she dodged the gleaming blade coming at her – in her previous life it had taken years before she had been able to fight him to a draw, and now, he was back with a lead of nearly fifteen years.And she refused for that damn, arrogant man to win all their fights yet again! ¤.¤.¤ Then, just as a last fireball produced a large smoke cloud, he managed to get behind her and swiftly blocked her wrists in her back – how the hell did he know how to place her automail in order to nearly block that arm?"Well, WindBlade?""I lose." she admitted a bit grudgingly, while trying not to redden at the sudden and unexpected proximity Judging by the amused smile on the team's faces and Edward's own red face – in anger for him – she guessed she wasn't all that successful... "Alright, alright, congrats colonel bastard, you won!" her brother grouched "Now let go of Ari!" the demand made the bystander still there laughAs for said colonel, he did indeed let go of Ariana's wrists – only to drop his arms around her to trap her in a hug, unable to see the reaction he provoked on her, but immensely enjoying her brother's temper tantrum. "Why, FullMetal? I won after all, doesn't it mean I earned some kind of prize?""Ari isn't some kind of prize!"As for Ari, she was spluttering a bit, taken aback by the surprise hug but her independent nature rebelling against the 'prize' comment... "Hmm... You really are a bad elder brother, considering your siblings as a prize for a fight..." retorted the Flame Alchemist "After all, I never said Ari was the prize, did I?" With that, he snapped his finger, and used the unnatural large amount of smoke to escape, dragging the girl along a shouting toward Riza "I'm entrusting them to you for the day! Do finish all the paperwork still to be done!"The lieutenant eyes widened as she remembered the pile of files still to be treated of his desk, and she groaned, not believing she'd fallen for that trick. "You do realize I'll use this as an argument each time you'll try to tell me you're not a slacker now?" Ari commented as she was getting dragged out of the military district"Ah but you're getting out of your work too! You're an accomplice!""I'm being abducted!" she protested hotly"And I'm not slacking off, I'm spending time with a fellow alchemist to do theory work for my next assessment!""The next assessment is a year away!""Better start preparing early!" She groaned at the answer and let herself fall in a boneless heap in the passenger seat of his car, not even bothering with asking where they were going – it was after all apparent that the colonel was crazy and would do whatever he wanted! It was only a while later than she realized "Are we going out of the town?""Just a bit out of the city's boundaries," he answered "I've got the feeling that any testing done with a dual-alchemy circle will either work or fail explosively right now...""Right," Ariana agreed, getting her notes out from her Inventory where she'd shoved them when the fight had been decided"Where the hell were you hiding this?" Roy wondered, glancing toward her then taking his attention back to the road "Never mind there are too many unexplained things happening around you Elric..." A bark. "Nope, not asking how he managed to sneak on either..." he decided"He jumped in as I was closing the door.""Is this dog some kind of ninja? I didn't see him at all!""He blends well in the shadows..." ¤.¤.¤ In the end, they spent the rest of the day experimenting with the theories they were theorizing on earlier, getting singed by quite a few blast, just as predicted. Even if most of their circles ended in failure, the theory did progress well thanks to those tries, and it was easy to guess that the application, once they managed these, would be tremendous. When they finally got back to the military district, where Ariana shared a room with her brothers, Ed was still spitting mad at the colonel – or even worse, since Riza had decided that since it was his fault Roy had ditched work, he would be helping with the work the man had dropped on them."And you," Ed added as they were getting back to their room "I saw you! You... you blushed! Like a girl!""Brother," Al sighed "Ari is a girl!" "I know! But, but... she can't like that bastard!""Why?""Because he's a bastard! And he's old!""Note how the bastard part comes before the old one!" Al stage whispered to his sister, making her laugh, before answering his brother "Truth be told, the colonel is pretty decent toward Ari, he just enjoy annoying you. Because you're just too easy to anger.""I'm not!" he protested, looking toward his sister for support"You are." she confirmed, dashing his hope "And as for the age problem, I don't really see Ari throwing herself at him just right now.""I don't 'throw myself' at people,"she sniffed haughtily "I'm just so awesome people naturally love me!" she teased"Oh no, Ed's arrogance was contagious!" fake panicked her middle brother"Alright, alright, I get it, Ari can think for herself and she's not stupid... But must you really like the colonel?" he whined"You're the one that's saying I like him." she protested hotly A snort, coming from both her brothers as they shared a glance and sighed together "Denial." before patting her back"Hey!" ¤.¤.¤ Ariana had taken advantage of the fact she was outside of the city to share with the colonel the discoveries they had made in the South, and the pass phrases decided on with Greed and his subordinates."It really would be best if we found Von Hohenheim," Roy had sighed "Only taking guesses at the circle being made component is dangerous.""I wonder if we would find anything about this in Xerxes ruins..." Ari wondered back "Too bad automail doesn't react well in the desert..." a sigh, at times like that, she really missed cooling charms – then it hit her, and she swiftly snatched the fountain pen the other was using from his hands Instead of protesting, he watched in interest as she jolted bits of calculation and a circle soon started to form"A dual air and water circle linked to a fire one in a general earth array... "he analyzed as she put the finishing touches on her first try "Something... a regulation of temperature!" he realized"Automail is bad in the desert because it heats the metal, and burns the bearer through the ports..." she explained "But with this applied on both the port and the limb...""There would be no heating problem." "I don't think this'll work just yet, but it's a good start." she admitted "I'll probably test it on loose parts first..." a shudder "Because Winry's going to pummel me if I try something like that directly on her work..."With that, dual-alchemy became Ari's next project as the three siblings went back to their usual routine of being sent around the East. "Children of God who live on this Earth, have faith and thou shall be saved." Ed snorted as the old radio post on the counter of the small open air worker restaurant they were eating in was spitting it's drivel"The god of sun, Leto, enlightens thy path." Ari, who was busy eating while jolting down notes on the side raised an eyebrow "Behold, having descended from his throne, the lord shall save thee from your sins." at that, she snorted too "As a messenger of god, I am your father." "A sermon on the radio?" Al noted, intrigued, and ignoring his sister's evident amusement at the dubious preaching"This is Lord Cornello!" the barman exclaimed happily"Eh?""Father Cornello!" the bartender repeated, visibly having trouble believing they didn't know who he was talking about "Messenger of the sun god Leto!" Visibly, the locals around all knew what he was talking about as they started to sing the man's praises "he is a holy man who came to town a bit more than a year ago and showed us the way of god!""He's got the power of miracle!""It's really incredible!" another nodded "Definitely the powers of a god!""Hey, are you even listening?" "Not really," Ed denied easily enough "After all, your guy sure sounds like a fake."The blunt answer provoked angry replies from the bystanders, that were soon drowned by Ariana's happy exclamation of "Got it!" "Got what?" couldn't help but ask the curious bartender, glancing at the complicated looking diagrams and calculations she had been working on while eating her stew"A functional array using two different element sources!" she explained – not helping him understand anything, but making her brothers brighten at the news "Watch!"With a flash, an intricate circle glowed briefly at the tip of her fingers, and she grabbed her empty glass of water – nothing visible seemed to happen, but she dumped it in her brother's hands "Wha... Cold!" he protested, accidentally letting go of it "Brother," Al sighed jumping down from his stool before clapping his hands, repairing the glass casually while asking "So you managed to craft an array to regulate the temperature of an item, didn't you?" His question was drowned by the onlookers shouts of surprise, and they were soon assaulted by awed citizens "You've got the power of miracle too!""The power of miracle?" Ed parroted, a bit annoyed at them going on once more about their cult "No, we're State Alchemist! This is science!""I didn't know alchemy could do this," muttered one of the people gathered"You look awfully young to already be part of the military!""Well of course," Ed puffed up "We three are the youngest alchemists to ever pass the exam!""I've heard of you!" another exclaimed "You're the Elric Siblings! What are you doing in Reole?" ¤.¤.¤ The siblings shared a glance – there was no way they would answer this question by the truth – somehow they got the feeling that 'we were sent to investigate the rumors of a fraud trying to create an army of fanatics by indoctrinating them with a fake religion' wouldn't go well.Thankfully they we saved from answering when a girl with brown hair adn pink bangs arrived, cheerfully greeting everyone. "heading to the church again, Rose?""Yes! I've got some offering to do! Oh, some newcomers! " she smiled brightly at them, welcoming them in town – and leaving just as fast"That girl..." Ari whispered sadly "Why is she smiling when she's suffering so much inside?" "You can tell, eh?" the barman answered, not expecting her insight "Rose has had a harsh life, she has no relatives, and her boyfriend just died." a smile "But her faith saved her, it did.""Faith in Leto, he who gives everlasting life to the living and rebirth to the dead." another quoted "And with the power of miracle as proof, it gives her hope to see her beloved again one day." The other nodded along – and the three siblings shared a glance, frowning.The colonel had been right to send them, something fishy was definitely going on..."Let's take a look at that church." Al suggested"It's as good a starting point as anywhere else." Ed agreed – with that, he paid, and they were trailing toward the largest building of the small town. "Oh, you again! Did you come to learn more about Letoism?" the girl they'd seen earlier asked"No thanks," Ed quickly denied "I really don't care about a fake god like that.""How can you say something like that!" Rose hotly protested "It's me that should ask that question!" he retorted back, plopping on one of the banks "Pray to god and he'll bring back the dead and save everyone?""Definitely!""And why would a god help people that cannot even be bothered to help themselves?" Ariana asked coldly – making her brother share a surprised glance"We pray...""You spent your days asking for a superior being to help us when you can't be bothered to help yourself!" harshly interrupted the young alchemist "All the while trying to impose your faith on others!" "It's our duty as believers to share our faith with those that are in the wrong without knowing it!""So... people that don't believe in Leto are wrong...""Of course!""But if he made human, isn't he the one to gave them freedom not to believe? Then... isn't it pure arrogance to decide that you small human knows better than your god and try and force your will on others?" "I never said I knew better than Leto!""Wow, sis sure is harsh on that girl..." Al whispered to Ed"I think it's because she feels bad for her." he answered in a low voice"Er?" "Think about what was said earlier... This girl just lost the one important person she had in her life, yet she's not mourning him but disillusioning herself into hoping her god will bring him back. That's not really healthy, isn't?""It's just as bad as when we were trying to bring back mom, isn't it?" Al sighted "Except there's no one to tell her she on the wrong path..." "Better Ari trying to wake her up now, than a harsher awakening later on." Ed nodded, before heading to the church's door "Still, should we go?" an amused smirk "After all, it's nearly time for the show!""It's not a show!" Rose protested hotly again, firmly ignoring Ari and speeding past them "It's a sermon!"They got out on the central plaza, and Ed snorted, looking at the delirious crowd and flower petals in the air "Yeah, right... not a show..." As for Ariana, she faltered a second as her attention zeroed on the cult leader, a frown marring her face"Ari?" Al asked"Souls." she breathed while regaining a hold on herself "In that ring." ¤.¤.¤ The two brothers nodded, distractedly following the show – and Ed definitely wasn't going to call this pointless gathering anything else; here was a man with a Philosopher Stone, even if small, on his hand, and all he was doing were parlor tricks, small scale transmutation to put the ignorant public in awe. If he wanted to be known as the envoy of a god, shouldn't he at least perform meaningful miracles? He said as much to Rose, that had came back stubbornly toward them, still bend on converting them – even if she was pointedly ignoring Ariana. "So," asked Al "We know he's a fraud. It's our job to expose him. How do we do it?""Let's go see him!" Ed decided"And after that he dares affirm he makes plans..." Ariana sighed As for Ed – firmly ignoring his younger siblings protests, he was already rushing back to Rose, that had been separated from them in the crowd "Hey! Take us to your leader!""What! But why?""Why don't you see it as a chance to convince us?" proposed Ariana before her brother could say anything stupid So they were back to the church – albeit the private part of it rather than the public shrines this time.And soon – far too fast, if the three mistrustful siblings were asked – they were led to a large and dimly lighted room by a tall man in religious garb "You're lucky, the founder is a busy man who doesn't have a lot of free time, but he just so happen to have a free spot right now.""Right," Ed nodded, irony barely hidden in his tone "Really lucky of us." "Don't worry," his sister added with a charming smile "We don't intend on taking too much of his time.""Of course," the man confirmed, "We'll end this quickly!" a gun was suddenly pulled, and killing intent flowing "Just like this!"The firearm echoed loudly in the large and empty space of the room they were in, as Rose gasped loudly "What is the meaning of this, brother?""These men are heretics that were going to attack the founder, Rose." explained the man, while two other men suddenly appeared to point spears at Ed and Al"Even thought, the founder wouldn't have allowed something like that!" she protested "Oh, but the founder has allowed this. And his are the words of god!" "That's a mean god for sure." Al mused from his spot, while deflecting the weapon aimed at him with one hand and knocking out the man holding it with the other, Ed following suit before turning to his sister on the ground "Oy, stop pretending to be dead.""Wha!" the man still up protested, before his gun was violently ripped from his grasp and alchemyzed into a small but intricate wolf statue, making the two brothers roll their eyesAs for the man who'd just lost his firearm, he was already knocked out. "I can't believe those idiots fell for this." Ariana laughed, whipping the small blood trail on her cheek – Al was immediately fussing about it, and healing it with a clap"Well they saw red liquid and thought blood," shrugged Ed "It's not like most people are able to gather the humidity in the air and the colorants in the ground to fake this you know." "Thank god you're safe..." Rose sighed, trembling a little"Still believing in your benevolent god?" Ed asked bluntly"Of course! This has to be some kind of mistake!"The boy rolled his eyes "Blind faith truly is some kind of miracle in and of itself." he sighed "To think that you can know your holy man ordered some kids' death and still believe in him...""Well, we just have to ask the holy man himself, don't we?" Ariana smiled Al groaned at the smile that his two siblings shared – he just knew they were coming up with some kind of convoluted plan. ¤.¤.¤ A few moments later, they were in front of the heavy doors to Father Cornello's chambers."Welcome to our holy church!" a bald, falsely benevolent looking man smiled a them "Have you come to learn our teaching?""Of course," Ed smiled "We've even got a bunch of question! Like... why are you tricking our believers with fake parlor tricks if you're truly a holy man?""Don't you trust in the power of miracle?" "We only saw a barely passable alchemists doing easy tricks I could do as a four year old while bypassing the basic laws of alchemy with a tainted Stone!" Ariana answered blandly"Oh!" the benevolent smile suddenly turned sinister "Well, I should have expected no less from three State Alchemists, shouldn't have I? You even guessed about the stone!""I wonder where a third rate alchemist like you got this?""Why? Do you want one?""We don't want something as distasteful as that." Ed denied harshly "Distasteful? My, how opinionated!" Cornello lightly commented "This stone is a wonder, a marvel!""Yet you only use it for cheap parlor tricks.""Ah, I should have guessed children like you couldn't understand the magnificence of my plans!""Well then, by any means, please enlighten us!" Ariana invited with a smile and a gesture "These parlors tricks like you call them are all I need to gain the sheep of this city's faith! With such small shows of power, I gained followers that line my wallet full with their donations and believe blindingly in me!" he burst out laughing "These idiots are becoming an obedient army of follower that would even happily die for me since they foolishly believe I will bring them back! With them, I'll soon conquer this country!" "This must be one of the lamest declaration of intent from a villain I've ever seen..." Ariana sighed"What are you saying!" he protested hotly "Well, your plan is unoriginal, for one." Al commented "We've grown up near Ishval so we saw first hands what lengths the Fuhrer will go to stop an uprising. And at least, Ishvalian had highly competent warriors trained from birth. You only have civilians. So your plan was doomed from the beginning...""And you're so bad at your 'conquering the country' thing that you didn't even hid well enough. The military heard about you!""What! Impossible!" "Er... You realize that, as State Alchemists, we are in the military?" Ed asked "So if we're here, it means someone sent us here to investigate...""Our instruction were pretty much to come and see what was going on and neutralize you if you were a fraud." Ariana said "The army has nothing against religions, but it doesn't like trouble-makers like you.""You really think you are going to stop me! There's only three of you against all my servants! They love me! If I tell them to kill you, they will, because those fools are persuaded I'm the living envoy of their god!" "Such a touching speech," Ed clapped enthusiastically "To think you admitted to all of this by yourself, I thank you!""What do you mean?"The door slammed open, Rose's silhouette revealed in the framing "I can't believe this! How could you lie to us, founder? You said you would bring him back!""Ah, Rose," Cornello smiled "I may have lied about being god's messenger, but I am the only one who can bring your beloved back! Be a good child and come to me, as long as those heretics aren't left to threaten my religion, I can bring him back for you." The girl trembled a bit, eyes watering – she so wanted to go to the man that was promising to her the only thing she was wishing for.But one thing held her back. ¤.¤.¤ "Tch, well then I guess I'll have to get rid of you too!" the cult leader shouted as it became apparent she wouldn't come to him, before activating a lever "Behold my chimeras! Isn't it amazing what that little Red Stone can do?"The next moment, a large beast looking like some kind of lion and dragon hybrid was rushing toward them, so fast Ed didn't have the time to dodge and biting through his leg "How does those fangs that can go through iron feel?" Cornello laughed Rose let out a terrified scream as Al grabbed her and pulled her out of the way of another chimera, Ariana rushing at the new beast, tanto in hand. "How is it possible!" the founder protested, as Ed threw the beast that was trying to chew at his leg against the wall"Al told you, didn't he?" Ed commented, sticking to the 'official version' "We grew up near Ishval." tearing at the fabric that was now hampering him, he revealed the gleam of metal "We got burned in the conflict.""Automail..." realized the man "I was wondering what a brat like you had done to earn the name FullMetal..." his smile was back "Don't think a bit of metal will prevent me from taking care of you!" with that, the red glowing of a transmutation powered by the Philosopher Stone appeared And sputtered down, as Ari, who'd had the time to take care of the chimera that had been aiming at Rose had made her way in the man's back and had taken hold of the arm on which the ring was – probably dislocating said arm while doing this, not that she really cared. Her eyes were glowing, flickering between green and gold, as an array lightened up in her free hand, aimed at the ring – or rather the red ornament embedded in it, that glowed in answer before bursting in pieces. "What have you done!" Cornello protested in a panicked shout "How could you destroy it!""This Stone isn't something that should be used by humans." Al answered calmly but distaste clear in his voice "And without it, you won't be able to fool the citizens anymore.""And just listen..." Ed said lightly - in the following silence, they could all hear a background noise steadily growing louder "I think they're already here!""What are you talking about!" "You didn't think Rose was the only one to hear your speech, did you?" Ariana smiled "Do you know about sound propagation properties? Transmuting part of this church in order for anything said in this room to be heard all around town wasn't all that hard you know...""Impossible!" Ariana shrugged "Doesn't matter if you don't believe me... Your followers are here, and they don't look too happy with you..."With that, she roughly dropped the man to the ground "Well, shall we go? I'm pretty sure we'll be able to catch the last train of the day if we don't waste too much time..." [Side Quest Complete!+25XPReward: 1 pair of Fighting Alchemist Gloves Lv35 (light armor: +25 defense, +10 concentration, +10 mind speed)] With that, they were out of the room that was beginning to fill up with the town's inhabitant, It's only as they were out of the church, where Padfoot, Tempesta and Paws were waiting for them, that a loud "Wait!" made them turn Stopping, they waited as Rose ran to them "I just wanted to say thank you..." she said"Don't." Ariana contradicted, still rather cold toward the girl "It's not as if you truly woke up after all.""What...""If you weren't afraid the rest of the villagers would turn against you, you would have helped that bastard against us. So save you breath." At that, the girl let anger take her "Yes, yes I would have!" she shouted "What would you know about it, when you've got family still! I'm all alone!" ¤.¤.¤ Ed slapped her.It wasn't all that hard, but it made her stop shouting, stunned."We lied in the church." Al admitted, rolling up his sleeve to uncover the metallic limb "What kind of strange attack could cost three kinds and three pets the same limb after all?"Rose's eyes widened at the affirmation. "When mom died and father was nowhere to be found, I decided that we would bring her back." said Ed"But.. but then..." mumbled the girl "If you paid such a price, you had to gain something in return, didn't you? You said it yourself, alchemy is based on equivalent exchange!""There is no equivalent exchange when you infringe of the domain of the gods." Ed contradicted "It's just a matter of sacrificing enough to come out of it alive." "The thing we made didn't even look human," Al continued "Yet it still took my whole body and Ed's limb, and Ari's arm. And because then didn't want to abandon me, they came back for me, and Ed gave his arm, and Ari gave most of her life expectancy to get me back." "Ari told us for years that it wouldn't work, what we were trying to do. Yet when the time came she was the one who paid the harshest price." Ed shrugged "So don't be an idiot like me and mourn your fiancé, instead on continuing in believing in disillusions until it coasts you your life. After all, if he really loved you, I don't think he'd want for you to destroy yourself for him, wouldn't he?""He would want me to be happy and go on with my life." she admitted, finally letting herself cry "But... But I just miss him so much I don't know how to go on!" "One step at a time." Ariana smiled in answer any coldness gone from her demeanor – she didn't like her brothers rehashing what had happened to them, yet she knew it could help the girl so she had let them talk "You're free to believe me or not... But there is one thing we learned from that fake attempt..." well it wasn't there that she'd learned it, but who cared "The dead don't come back, but their souls do get reincarnated eventually. So even if you don't meet again, he will be reborn one day and live a new life. So since he's getting a new chance at being happy, may be you can find yours too..." A low rumbling made the siblings jump "Ah! The train..." with that, they were rushing off "Take care of yourself and go forward, Rose!" shouted Ed as a parting"I will." she shouted back between her tears, smiling despite herself – the first truly happy smile she'd smiled since her fiancé's deathThe three siblings shared a smile as a notification appeared [Hidden goal complete! To find the will to go on!Thanks to your encouragements, Rose Thomas has found the strength to move forward with her lifeReward: +50XP, 1 pair of Military-grade fighting boots Lv35 (medium armor: +50 defense, +25 speed)][Level up! You are now level 39!+1SP] Chaos' Game was sometime frustrating, with the snippets of notification coming of as mocking from time to time – but it was well worth it for notifications like this one, that proved they had managed at least something, even if it was just bettering a bit the life of a young woman... "So..." the colonel summed up, leafing thought their report "A third rate alchemist with a Red Stone he? Just as expected then...""The town is probably one of the blood-point for the circle." nodded Ariana darkly "We did what we could, but it's doubtful unrest won't arise again there...""We'll keep an eye on it." nodded Roy "Did any of your automail get damaged in the fight?""Nothing Ari couldn't take care of." answered Ed, waving off his concerns "Ah!" the girl reacted, the comment reminding her of something "But I finally managed to get the temperature regulation array! So we'll have to jump by Rosembool to have it inscribed in our ports and limbs!""Why?" Al asked "You did it easily enough with that glass...""It was only temporary." she explained "There would have been an energy perdition eventually. Whereas if the circle is inscribed in the item, the perdition will be much slower, and any alchemists with a basic understanding of the various alchemy type used..." "In other words, only the four of us and teacher..." Al lightly commented "Would be able to recharge the array." finished his sister without really minding the interruption"Well," commented the colonel "I'm pretty sure we can make any change to you automail fall under the reparations needed because of the fight in Reole then." he said "And if I'm not wrong, automail demand a bit of time to adapt to when it's being changed, so you should take advantage you that to take a break in your home town...""We'll be sure to bring you back a souvenir." Ed laughed "Something old and dusty, just like you!" he added, before dodging as a small detonation happened in the place he was the second before "You pyromaniac!" As for said pyromaniac, he waved them off laughing, knowing at the elder brother's that they'd correctly interpreted his suggestion – after their stop at Rosembool, the siblings would be heading for the desert, and exploring the remaining ruins of the old Xerxes kingdom."So, how long will they be away?" Riza askedShe had to hid her amusement as a suddenly dismayed colonel answered "At least three weeks, more probably a month..." "Hey! Colonel bastard!"He repressed a groan as FullMetal loud voice was heard and opened his window, an object coming flying toward him "Here, Ari's notes!" he announced, visibly disappointed that the colonel managed to avoid the item and grabbed it instead of getting brained by it"Sorry for my idiotic brother," Ari commented just beside her brother "He insisted. Well, we're off!""New notes?" Riza sighed "That means you aren't going to get any work done for the next week, doesn't it?""I have no idea what you're talking about, lieutenant." he protested, eliciting snorts from the rest of his team "Anyway," the blond woman continued, hitting his hand away from where it was creeping to open the notebook "Please wait until after your meeting with the general to open this!"He sent her a pleading look, to which she answered by a stern "Puppy eyes stopped working on me after the first week Padfoot spent here, colonel!""I can't believe I'm being compared to Ari's mutt..." muttered the colonel while stowing away the notebook in his uniform's pocket while getting ready to leave – like Hawkeye had said, he was supposed to meet General Grumman in a couple of minutes and had been cutting it short with his meeting with the three Elric Time always seemed to pass faster when those three were in East City... ¤.¤.¤ Meanwhile, the three Elric were – yet again – in a train, Ed already sleeping deeply on a bench"You know sis, I've been thinking..." Al fidgeted "That armor in the basement, I would've been stuck in it if you hadn't been there..."Ari raised an eyebrow to show she was listening, but let him struggle with the word to put his feelings into words. This looked like something that had been haunting him regularly from the wait he was talking about it. "I'd like to do something about it..." he explained "Because it's something that would have saved me in a way, but right now it's just gathering dust in our old home...""What do you want to do with it?" she asked curiously"Maybe..." he thought about it a bit "Melt it down and use it for something useful? It just seem a bit sad for it to lay forgotten in the basement when it nearly had such an impact in our life..." "Well, I'm sure Winry and granny Pinako could use it for parts." Ariana suggested "They could even make something for you, or ask the blacksmith to do some kind of weapon for you.""I'd like that." her brother nodded "I don't want to forget about this old armor." his smile was brighter at the decision Winry had been overjoyed to have them back for a while – and after Ariana explained her array, she had been even more impressed "This could change life for people with automail!" she exclaimed "it's too bad so few people would be able to recharge them!""We're not a lot to understand elemental alchemy for now," Al explained "But once Spring 1915 is gone by, we'll have more free time..." a smile "I'd like to teach alchemy to more people." he admitted "Because like you say, they are so many useful things to be done with it yet most teacher are really stuffy, I'm sure they're a lot of people around who could be good at alchemy if only they had been given the chance to learn it..." "I'm sure you'll be great as a teacher!" the blond girl happily encouraged him "You're kind and patient, but when you're interested in something you make it sound interesting!" she said, while throwing a wrench at Ed who was trying to get away discretely "Not like your idiotic and temperamental elder brother!""Temperamental?" said brother protested "You're the one trying to knock my brain out each time you see me!""If you didn't try to get out of the therapy needed when adjusting automail each time I wouldn't need to resort to violence!""We're not adjusting the automail right now, so why the violence?" "I do need to take measurement you idiot! How am I supposed to adjust the new parts otherwise? Or are you such a midget that you did not grow at all in three years?"Al sighed as the two continued bickering and decided to get back to the kitchen, where Ari and granny Pinako where talking and making supper. ¤.¤.¤ "Ah, young love." the elder woman commented with a wistful smile "I remember the time when I was acting the same toward my late husband...""I'm pretty sure normal couple aren't supposed to act like that, granny." Ari pointed out laughingly"Well I'm pretty sure normal couple aren't supposed to enjoy beating the crap out of each other, nor consider alchemy theory a romantic topic." Al countered "So you don't have any room to speak.""I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, brother mine." Ariana lightly commented "Beside, it's not like you can pretend to be some kind of love expert, can you? The only women you're ever around with are granny Pinako, Winry, Riza and me!" The rest of the week was spent crafting new ports and limbs for the group.Winry had taken over doing most of the work for their automail, leaving granny Pinako free from working on other customers, as the teenage girl was proving to be more and more a genius of her own when it came to mechanics.In the years that had gone by since she did her first automail surgery on them, her work had become much more refined, the limbs growing both lighter and more sturdy. She had also enlisted Ariana's help, and was surprised to see that even if she was a lacking regarding the more hand-on aspects of the work, she hadn't slacked off regarding the theoretical knowledge – and since Ari had always been better with learning when doing things, she was soon being used as a helper by her childhood friend. "Here," Winry handed out the outer casing of Ed's new arm to the younger girl "Do the engraving while I start working on your arm," a smile "after all I can't just do it like your brother's arm, a girl's limb need to be more delicate! And cute!""Can you put a space for throwing knives in it?""And lethal, I guess..." she sighed at the hopeless fighting freak "Give me a knife for me to see." an alchemy flash "Why do you need a space to store them if you can make them easily?""The ground making isn't always rich enough in iron or carbon." she shrugged "And I was thinking of making a few sets with Al's armor, one for each of us, so I would need to keep them." "Right." nodded Winry, who had been brought up to date about Al wanting to do something about the armor She hadn't really understood at first – but then, Ariana had finally come clean about her past, and Chaos' Game.And now, Winry was used to the gaming interface she was living with, particularly happy about the new options it opened for her art – because, yes, she did hold automail mechanics as an art – and she understood Al's need to make something meaningful out of the armor set.She had even started her own side project with a few scraps of metal she had obtained out of it when crafting the main parts of the siblings new limbs. Even Tempesta, Padfoot and Paws were getting newly outfitted! ¤.¤.¤ Ariana dropped into a chair, proudly gazing at her work.She couldn't believe it had taken her so much time before getting around to try to work with both runes and alchemy, but they had been so busy that she just hadn't found the time for it, especially given how she was the only one knowing anything about runes in this world. Working the runic theory and arithmancy calculation within the alchemical diagrams and calculation hadn't been easy too – from an external eye it may have seemed as those two were very similar, and in a way they were, but since ground work behind each was completely different, blending them wasn't all that easy.Still, she had managed, taking advantage of the few days she had to spent without an arm while she got used to the new imported port Winry had fitted her with recently. And now that she'd gotten her arm back – which, true to Winry's promises, was a work of art, and did hold an empty emplacement that could fit three throwing knives, she had just finished said knives, making a set of three for both her siblings and herself, and engraving them with an array that mixed all for alchemy with three runics alphabets, on of them being the one used for blood magic – and, according to Death, the alphabet used by vampire, even though she wouldn't know as she hadn't really met any vampire just yet... The knives were made of one block of metal and had a silvery sheen, with a finger ring between the blade and the handle. The array on they made them extra resistant to elements, always sharp, and blood bound to their owner. They would also eventually return to they true shape if said owner transmuted them."You know," finally managed to said a dumbfounded Ed "Each time I think I've pretty much gotten a handle on the impossible things you do, you manage to surprise me all over again." his smile made the remark into a compliment rather than a default, as he knew she was quite sensitive about the way her family saw her"And they're made from my armor," Al smiled "Thanks, sis." "Speaking about armor!" Winry interjected "I made something too!""You didn't have to!" Al protested "You already made us our automail!""I wanted to," the girl replied "Here, it's not as useful as those knives but...""Thanks." the siblings interrupted her, surprising her with a group hug as each received the iron pendants crafted in a circular shape – one rarely used in Amestrian alchemy, but having quite a meaning for them, as it was associated with chaos - even Tempesta, Paws and Padfoot had their own pendant ¤.¤.¤ As they let go of their childhood friend, Ariana loosened the leather band that was always tied around her neck to add it the iron wheel, prompting Al to ask "You know, I've always seen you with this necklace... And well, it looks a bit like a bullets so... What is it?"He certainly didn't expect the light blush his innocent question prompted – making Ed raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "It's the gift with which my husband promised himself to me in my past life." she admitted"Husband?" Winry squealed, heart in her eyes "You were married in your previous life?""I was." she nodded, before tilting her head at her brothers surprised looks "You do realize I lived up to my thirties two times already... It's not that surprising.""So... You were wedded twice?" "No," she denied "My fiancé died during the war in my first life and I didn't have the heart to find someone else." a smile "But I did fell in love in my second life, even if I guess you could say our relationship was quite... unique..." her smile was a bit sadder as she added "But I still died too young to see my children grow up."Al's eyes widened at the affirmation – then at his brother's reaction "I think you broke him," he laughed "I think it was the idea of his little sister wedded and with kids...""Indeed." Ariana laughed "You think he realizes there is a possibility I don't stay single all my life?" "Oh? Do you have someone in mind?" immediately asked WinryHer negative answer was drowned by Al talking about the colonel, their childhood friend's loud squeals and Ed finally coming out of his shock to insult said colonel. Finally, she decided that honesty may be warranted given her two brothers tendency to talk about the man "Even if he did feel something toward me and I wasn't that young I probably wouldn't engage in a relationship with him.""Why?" Al immediately asked, rather surprised by the affirmation "You clearly like him!""It's just... I don't know if it's him I like, so it wouldn't be fair...""What do you mean?" Ed asked quite calmly, sensing this was pretty important"I can feel souls, remember?" her hand instinctively went to her neck, grasping the bullet that was hanging there absentmindedly "The colonel has my husband soul, so of course I love him... But if I'm loving Renato Sinclair rather than Roy Mustang, when he doesn't remember being him, that wouldn't be very fair on him, would it?" The three nodded, understanding well what she meant, for all that they never had been trapped in such a conundrum, but Al eventually said "You know, you shouldn't worry about that. Because you may have seen your husband in him at first, but I'm sure you see the colonel for himself now.""Of course she does!" Ed proclaimed loudly "After all, it's not like the man could have been an alchemist in your past life, yet that's one of the thing that makes you spent most of your time with this bastard!" a groan "So you most certainly do love the bastard for himself rather than his past life..." he concluded with a dejected sigh ¤.¤.¤ "I can't believe you're moping again!" Riza sighed"I'm not! Why would I?" Roy protested "It's their job to go around so it's not like I'm not used to them being away all of the time!""I don't know, why don't you tell me why?" she challenged him He closed his mouth on the inane retort he'd been preparing, and wondered at it himself. Why would he feel so restless each time those three were away? There was an evident answer of course, not that he could really explain it to Riza.The irritating feeling of looking for something was gone when the Elric Siblings where in East City. Or rather – and he couldn't believe he was admitting to it, even if only mentally, said nagging feeling was gone when Ari was around.Which didn't made sense in the least – before he found those three brothers, he had been pretty sure this feeling had something to do with women, as it always seem to lessen somewhat when he was dating.He had been nearly ready to believe in Maes insufferable preaching about needing a stable relationship in his life. But then finding that the feeling wasn't only lessened, but pretty much gone as long as spent time with the young alchemists had sent this theory to the bin. He'd started to wonder if it had something to do with alchemy, which could have been possible, since Ari had started back his interest in it – but as the stupid feeling was back each time they were away, even if he still did enjoy getting back into alchemical research, it destroyed that theory too.Adding to that the fact that he had confirmed when he abducted the youngest sibling that it was Ari, and not the other two that was the source of the feeling, and he was coming to a disturbing conclusion. ¤.¤.¤ "Say, Riza..." lieutenant Hawkeye raised en eyebrow at the uncommon lapse in title when within the military district "You're my consciousness aren't you? The one that will make sure I doesn't stray from the path I've chosen?"She nodded, understanding that this was a real question "I am Roy. I told you, I'll follow you into hell itself for our goals, but if you start to become as corrupted as those we want to depose, then I'll get rid of you myself. After all, that's what family is for..."He smiled, thankful for the confirmation of their strong link. Then groaned, repressing the urge to bang his head on his desk as he admitted "I think I'm obsessed with a twelve year old boy. That's bad isn't it?" She couldn't help it – she laughed at the question, while answering "Well, if Edward heard you saying that..."He paled "He'll say he was right, won't he?" then, a shudder "But, he is right in a way isn't he?" a despondent mutter "FullMetal right... He can never know...""Well he would be right only if you had any... intentions..." "I'm not some kind of child molester! I'm fascinated by Ari's mind and intelligence and fighting aptitude, I don't want to defile him, he's worth far more than that..." then realizing what he'd said "Fuck...""You've got it bad." Riza agreed "But I don't think I need to shoot you just yet." her amused smiled gained a threatening note "Of course it's only as long as you keep your hands to yourself as long as Ari's under the age of consent..." "How did I became more interested in a teenage boy than in all the beautiful women I date?" he mourned "I can kiss my reputation goodbye if this goes out...""I really don't understand why you're so proud of your womanizer reputation! It's not something you're supposed to take pride in!" she chastised"I know that!" he protested "And it's a useful reputation for gathering information..." "True enough..." she sighed, before taking a decision "Ah well, I guess you've beaten yourself enough for the day, so I'll let you in on one piece of information FullMetal was withholding for fun..."She went out of the office, ignoring the curious looks of the rest of the team who was wondering why they had heard the colonel shouting about child molesters, and getting out a file from her own desk. ¤.¤.¤ "The Elric files?" the colonel remarked, wondering what it was in them that he had to see"It was easy to miss the information because the only identification used in reports is the State Alchemist name," commented Hawkeye, leafing unto the right page "Here, read."He obeyed, eyes widening, before finally giving in to the urge to bang his head "How the hell could I miss this? She's probably thinking I really am some kind of utter idiot, isn't she?" "Well, to be honest..." Riza trailed "She's a bit vexed, I'd say. She's going to be thirteen in less than two months, so it is becoming visible. And even before, she never really did look like a boy..." a shrug "I think you were in denial."He couldn't help but agree mentally – he had avoided carefully thinking too much about the issue after all, and would have happily kept on if Riza hadn't forced the issue.He really loved the woman dearly, but she was just like a sister – annoying parts included... Then realizing something else "The whole team must have been laughing their ass off at me haven't they?""Well, there are a few bets going on around." Riza admitted with an amused shrug – then letting out a sigh "I fear I just made Breda won. That man is far too intelligent sometimes..."Roy smirked – he'd have his revenge on his team, one way or another, for all the fun they'd had at his expanse; FullMetal wouldn't even know what hit him!And well, Riza had said he was in the clear as soon as WindBlade was legal. That meant only two years and two months, he could deal with this; and it would gave him time to make her forget he'd... mistaken her for a boy for three years... In the team's office, a collective shudder was felt as he began plotting his retaliation. As for Riza, she smiled softly – the colonel had been off-kilter for months while he was avoiding being honest regarding his feelings toward the youngest, and only female State Alchemist.But now that he'd came clean with himself and had her benediction, he was back to his usual self-assured and a bit arrogant self.She went back to her desk feeling proud of a job well-done – even if she would have liked to avoid the inevitable revenge he'd extract out of them... Chapter VII: 1913-1914 "We're here." Al whispered They were in what looked like the ruins of an old palace, standing in front of a large mural."Five suns, a two-headed dragon...""lines and lines of formulas...""It's really different from modern alchemy isn't it?" Ariana commented"With part of the thing missing we wouldn't be able to understand a thing if we didn't learned a bit of the old language from dad's books." Al added "But now it looks it's what we were looking for... And we are probably at one of those five points..." he added, feeling a bit sick at what was, for them clearly written of that wall – then he moved, dodging as a man they had felt approaching was suddenly attacking them before grabbing him violently and throwing him to the ground"Recouping with the map of the old ruins the man of the Xingese liaison gave us, we should be able to find out which point we're at easily enough." added Ariana, Fuurin in her left hand coming against the throat of another man, her three knives in the other ready to be aimed at the rest of the attackers.As for Al, he'd downed a third man easily. "Ishvalian, eh?" Ed noted "You tried to rob the wrong travelers.""We aren't doing this for money." corrected one of the attackers that had stopped when his compatriots were threatened "You are to be hostages to negotiate with the military.""Are you stupid?" Ed wondered "Negotiating with the military doesn't work! Didn't you understand that well enough when you were slaughtered even after your most holy leader tried to parley for peace?""What would kids like you know about that!""We're from Rosembool." Ari answered calmly "We may not approve of the pointless bloodshed Fuhrer Bradley endorsed, but we also remembered that the Amestrian weren't the only one killing innocents." "What can you understand of our suffering! Your lands weren't stolen from you and your family and friends butchered under your eyes.""And so you want to get revenge by doing exactly the same to us, thus furthering the Amestrians resentment toward your people." "The Amestrians citizens will have to react if they see the military letting their children getting killed!""And you think their reaction will be to want to help you to regain your country?" Al laughed "How naïve can you be?" "It's truly a sad day when children understand more about the world than you, isn't it." an old voice commented "Stand down, you idiots!" he added harshly toward the three siblings attackers"Mister Shan...""Are you idiots trying to ruin the name of Ishval?" then turning toward the three Elric "Would you please release them? We won't attack anymore.""That you say." Ed commented doubtfully while still letting go of the man he was still holding hostage "I'm sorry for our youths transgression. We may resent your people for what they did to us, we understand that not all Amestrians are heartless thugs.""We were saved by Amestrians doctors after all." a young teen that was helping the old man walk around added, heavy scarring visible on his left shoulder "And even though he never said anything, I know the alchemist that was in charge of the region for a while always missed the hospital one way or another, making fire big enough that it looked like nothing could survive from the outside, yet that never propagated toward us in the inside... and he did so until he was sent to another sector..." "Fire?" Ed whispered "That sure sound like that bastard colonel...""Those doctors," Al asked hesitantly "Were they a married couple?""You..." the kids eyes widened as he smiled "You knew the Rockbell?" then, the smile died down "We always wanted to express our gratitude to them... They saved so many life...""Even when the rebellion worsened an the order to exterminate us was issued, they never abandoned us." said the old man "How was their last moments?" asked Ari"They were killed by an Ishvalian." the old man admitted, shame in his voice "A man that seemed to go mad when he regained consciousness...""He had the tattoos of a Warrior Priest," added the teen "But his face had been heavily scared. We're sorry, we couldn't do anything to help them..." he sighed"I'm sure they would be happy you're still alive." Ari commented "They took pride in they work after all." "Still..." commented the old man "I'd like to be able to express my thanks to them... And apologize...""We'll go to their grave for you." promised Al with a small smile ¤.¤.¤ After that, the refugee group had left them alone, and they spent a moment more in from of the large mural "We shouldn't left this here, should we?" Al wondered"Let's make a drawing of it and destroy it." Ed nodded "On the off chance someone could understand what it's about..."And so they did, soon on their way to the next ruins. If that circle had been here, it may be found elsewhere too.Seems like they wouldn't be back to East City just yet... "Still..." Al sighed "To think this was once part of a prosperous kingdom... and yet it was all gone in a day...""We will stop the homunculus." Ed reassured him firmly "One way or another." They spent the following month going around the ruins, getting rid of any traces of the horrific array while managing to complete it in their notes and starting comparing it to what was going on in their country – soon finding that several town where military forces had to be used to repress dissident, or border city in frequent conflict with the neighboring country were indeed placed in points that related to the Xerxesian nation-wide circle."This idiotic old man could have done this himself," Ed grumbled as they arrived to the center of the array "He's had four centuries, seriously! How did he manage not to think about erasing any traces of the thing that destroyed his country!" "I don't know if I'd have the heart to come back if I had lost everything in one night..." Al answered "It still seems so strange..." he looked around them "Do you realize dad grew up here? That... Among the people here, some probably were our own family! Not like, ancient ancestor but grand-parents, or or uncles and cousins!"Ed and Ari nodded – they hadn't really realized it at first, when they only had their father's story to go on, but exploring the ruins had made it more real somehow.The people that had lived and died here had been their people just as much as Amestrians were... "Somehow, it's more personal now..." Ed reluctantly admitted "These souls stuck under our feet in Amestris... They are our people..." he sighed "I guess I can understand why our bastard father feels like a monster. The souls stuck in him... He knew them, he was friend with some of them, grew up with others, probably didn't get on well with others..."They nodded somberly "Somehow, beating that homunculus isn't only a matter of saving Amestris..." Al trailed "It's also about setting free the Xerxesian souls that are still suffering... You know, your Soul Art may be really useful, I still don't envy you for it, because I can't begin to imagine how it must feel..." ¤.¤.¤ Ari smiled at the honest comment – it was with simple remarks like that that Alphonse proved he was really wise beyond his age. Then she stopped as they were passing by a heavy door that looked closed."Ari?""I think we should check it in here." she said "Just a feeling...""Well, let's then." Ed nodded, trying – and failing to open the door, then to alchemyze it open "It's blood-locked!" realized his sister, understanding better what had been nagging at her, before nipping the tip of her finger on one of her knivesThe alchemical glow was red, and seemed to last a few more seconds than what was normal before the doors slammed open."Er... How?" Al asked "Well, at first I just intended to override the lock with my Blood Art," Ariana explained "But it appears that one of the blood keyed in here was father's. So I managed to trick the door in thinking I was him. You probably could too."The atmosphere in the room was dry and heavy – apparently, it had been locked well enough that it had remained air tight for four centuries. And it clearly was an alchemy laboratory, that still looked as if it had been in used but hours before the country was destroyed.Research diaries were scattered around, leather-bound books were neatly aligned on shelves and chemistry was still arranged for an experiment..."This... this is Von Hohenheim writing," Ariana recognized, stunned "I think this was his master's laboratory." [Hidden Goal Complete! Echoes of a Distant Past...Retracing the steps of your ancestors, you uncovered their lost knowledgeReward: +100XP, Lost Knowledge Perk (+5 Xerxes language, +5 to Earth, Air, Water and Fire Alchemy) unlocked, new Grimoire entry Xerxes Lore][Level up! You are now level 41!+2CP, +2SP, +1PP][Perk available:- Smooth Talker: double rate of learning Communication and Awareness Skills- Fighter's Mind: double rate of learning Survival and Ground Skills-Spirit's of the Pack(1/3) Libeccio's gift: they may haven't been able to follow you, but the hunters that followed you did sent a gift to you, +3 Agility (unlocks Spirit's of the Pack (2/3) Rashaba's gift)] Ariana's eyes widened - this was the first time she leveled up twice at the same time in this life, but what was even more surprising was the new Perk that had been made available to her - Libeccio, Rashaba and Chinook had been a fox, a wolf and a dog that had been her animal partners in her previous life, and even if they weren't as intelligent as Padfoot, or as powerful as the holy familiar would be one day, they had been loyal companions. How fitting, to receive a gift from long gone partners in the ruins of their long gone ancestors...With that, the Spirit of the Pack Perk was chosen. They had spent the day organizing and packing most of what was in the room, filling it out in their Inventory before continuing resigning themselves to make camp for the night. They had managed to avoid sleeping in the ruins up until now, but never until now had they found ruins that well-preserved – as such, they hadn't even gone through half of the zone in the day. The siblings had taken advantage of a dormitory room next to the laboratory that was quite well-preserved too, and had probably been the slaves' bedroom seeing how spartan it seemed to be. The bed carved out of solid rock weren't particularly comfortable, but alchemy resolved the problem easily enough.In the end, they spent three days exploring the place, eventually arriving to the throne room where the ritual had been activated.Time had done its worked and eroded the place, yet somehow the large mural of the circle that had claimed the life of all the citizens of the kingdom was still whole, a few glass shards polished by time lingering under it. "This is here that it happened isn't it?" Al whispered looking at the shards "To think something so small could cause such a large scale calamity...""It doesn't have anything to do with size." Ed corrected, for once not overreacting to the word "In the end, it's all because of human's arrogance. If the king hadn't blindly followed the homunculus in his quest for immortality, this could have been avoided.""And whatever excuses he used about it, he still used his own people as blood price for the array." Ari added "That's not something a ruler should ever do." Ed approached the gigantic mural, and clapping his hands resolutely pushed them around the stone, the array disappearing under his influence and being replaced by a large, familiar symbol."You are so flashy, brother..." Al sighed helplessly as he took in the Chaos symbol that was now on the wall"This is art!" he protested loudly "Now, let's get back, we've made the bastard wait enough!"Ariana smiled amused – Chaos would probably get on quite well with her loud-mouthed elder brother, so it was fitting that he'd adopted the symbol Winry had given to them. And it was still better than the lethal array... By the time they were out of the desert and back into East City, it had been nearly seven weeks since they'd been gone, and they had gained a healthy tan, making Winry laugh as they dropped by for a day before catching the train"Golden eyes and hair weren't enough yet, you had to go for golden skin too!" she had commented, amused – but Ariana had caught her small blush as she glanced at Ed before admitting "Still, it suits you well..." And with that, they were back to East City."We were starting to worry!" gushed Havoc "Good to have you back, kids!""I can't believe you didn't even sent a message!" Riza reprimanded"There weren't any phones available where we were." Al awkwardly explained "Only sand." Ed groaned "Lots and lots of it, infiltrating everywhere...""Even without our automail heating, brother didn't really like the desert." Ariana commented, amused"The desert? So no souvenirs then?" Havoc asked, deflating "Well..." Al reddened a bit "I did this when we were bored at night..." he took out some small sandstone figurineThe team started gushing about the presents handed around, making the boy blush even more, then the door to the colonel's office was violently slammed, a man stalking out of it, looking furious."Yet another moron from New Optain trying to browbeat the colonel..." Breda sighed "Wonder when they'll understand its useless..." "Anyway, the colonel's schedule is empty right now so you should go ahead and give your report." Riza suggested"Why do we have to give report even when on our down time?" Ed groaned while entering the office"Because you always manage to get entangled in stupid situations, FullMetal." the colonel answered "Welcome back, EarthBreaker... WindBlade. You're late.""There was a lot more to find than we expected." Ariana explained"Anything useful?" She simply slided an open notebook with the old array an the speculations about the current one, making his eyes widened.In only one page their expedition was fully justified. Talk about efficacy! "The first site we visited had a partially destroyed mural of this circle," Al explained "So we went on to all the important spots to destroy any traces of it.""And it was present in all five sites, no to speak of the central point." Ed continued, eyes darkening "This was..." it wasn't often that the eldest brother was out of words "We can't let this happen to us, colonel..." even rarer that he forgo the 'bastard' after that title But then again, both siblings seemed just as solemn – the colonel hadn't expected that trip to the desert to have such an impact on them.Guessing at the officer's surprise with ease, Ariana explained in a soft voice "They were our people, colonel."He nodded, realizing that it was true – and that they had probably never really felt it before... Then, having finished leafing through the official report, Roy was turning his attention back to them, a smirk on his face that made Ed shudder, somehow knowing that things were about to go very bad."So, I heard you owed Breda a thousand Cenz...""What? I don't..."The smirk grew wider "You do."The meaning of the affirmation dawned on them, and Ariana cheered "Hell yeah! Now I won't need to go through with your stupid idea!""Chest binding wasn't a stupid idea!""Say that when you're the one having to wear them!" ¤.¤.¤ Roy sweat-dropped at the bickering, while Al merely groaned, and informed him "It was supposed to be a short-timed joke before Ed learned of your reputation... Then, with how stubborn he is, it was easier going along for the ride..." a smile "So, why did Riza tell you?""I asked for your file for a report to the General." he lied easily"Is it me or do you actually do your work when we're not here?" the middle brother wondered "Why don't you three go annoy the rest of the team if you're already back to calling me a slacker..." the colonel groaned " After all, I've got your report and I'm sure lieutenant Hawkeye will find something for you to do...""Wow," Ariana said in wonder "Complaining about being called out on his laziness while dropping his work on Riza in the same sentence... Are you getting worse colonel?" she asked while opening the office door"No he's sick!" Breda corrected loudly "He's only been on six dates in the past month!" The affirmation made the three siblings turn back toward their superior officer."Definitely sick." Ariana agreed immediately"You should use you diagnosis array." Al suggested by her side "Who knows what he may have caught...""I'm not sick!""Colonel bastard," Ed sighed "You not getting around with women is just like Winry not fangirling about automail or Ari not liking pointy items... It just doesn't happens!" "Did you make a breakthrough in some kind of alchemical research?" Ari wondered – then, seeing the others looking at her nonplussed "What? Ed manages to forget about food when he's doing some interesting research!""Oh," Fuery nodded "It makes sense then. You should have told us colonel, we were worrying about you."With a sigh, said colonel decided that it was the best way he could get out of the topic and let it stand. It took most of the following week for Edward to start guessing that maybe it wasn't alchemy research that had changed the colonel habits.Because what Breda hadn't mentioned, when talking about the man's lessening dates, was that all the remaining ones were with his spies. In other words, the man hadn't lessened his dates, he'd completely stopped them.And he was spending far too much time around Ariana. ¤.¤.¤ There was only one conclusion to come to "I knew it! You really are a pedophile!"The colonel and his sister shared a glance, and the man finally moved from where he was tackling her to the ground, helping her up."I can't believe I lost again." Ariana groaned, massaging her sore arm while glaring at her brother "And you!" Ed recoiled, recognizing the irritation in her eyes "You've interrupted sparring time! And you know what the penalty for interrupting sparring time is..."At that, Ed threw his red coat in the way of the small teenage girl that was rushing toward him, transmuting his arm in a blade while shouting "I still totally blame you, colonel bastard! Teacher shouldn't be anyone's role model!" Roy laughed and settled back against on the gym walls – served the FullMetal brat right.Like he'd admitted months before, he wasn't a true fighter contrary to his sister, and it didn't take her long before he was pummeled to the ground. Still, at least he couldn't enjoy the view – Ariana fighting, and Ed getting beaten down in the same scene, that was a treat!"Age of consent, colonel." sing-sang Riza as she entered the gym, eyes full of mirth"Lieutenant!" he protested – he hadn't done anything after all! enjoying a fighting show wasn't a crime! As for Ariana, brother down, she was heading back toward them, distractedly adjusting her tank top."Winry really did a good job," she commented as she came up to them "I still can't believe how light this new arm is...""And beautiful," Riza commented, admiring the limb usually hidden under her coat, done in dark metal that didn't shine yet still had some light iridescent glints her and there "And what's this?" wondered Riza, looking at the pendant that had fallen out of her top "I think I've seen Ed and Al with something similar...""The Chaos wheel." Roy recognized "A surprising yet not inaccurate symbol for the three of you...""Winry thought it fitting." Aria nodded "She's the one that made them for us. Padfoot, Paws and Tempesta got their's too.""And this?" the colonel wondered while fingering the small bullet, not noticing Riza's eyes widening at the bold move, given where the pendant was "It's familiar somehow..." Ariana felt her heart skip a beat at the affirmation – and for a second, she decided to let herself hope.She was more Kazami than Ariana, more Shadow than WindBlade when she smiled secretively and taunted "Why don't you try and guess?""And if I guess right?" Roy asked back, eyes darkening and falling in the familiar game without even realizing it"Then you'll get a prize..." As for Riza – she was pretty sure she was crimson.A girl so young shouldn't be able to look and sound like – like a seductress!And the colonel had been just as bad, even if he had the excuse of being known as a womanizer!She felt as if she'd spied a much more intimate scene than what really had transpired. "It's that time of the year again hu?" Ed sighed "Assessment time... I hate assessment time! I don't like doing paperwork!""That's because you always wait until the last minute to do your work." Roy commented lightly from his desk"I don't want to hear this coming from you, bastard!" "Ah, but I already finished my research reports for the assessment two weeks ago!""That's because you had Ari to help!""I'll have you know that while the colonel and I did indeed work together for this year assessment, our research reports are completely different." Ari primly announced"She's mocking me isn't she?" Ed asked Al"Well you interrupted her twice during a sparing session this week alone." his brother answered "And you forgot that it was your turn to clean up the room this morning.""Oh. She's mad then." "Stop harassing her about the colonel for a few days and it should be alright. Speaking about that man... Colonel, are there any alchemists working with chimeras in East City?" he asked a bit louder to reach the man that was in his office"There's the LifeBinding Alchemist." answered said colonel from there "Why?""I've been wondering about helping mister Feng subordinates..." admitted Al, using the alias Greed was now using "I've studied a bit more alkahestry in the past year, but I would still need to know a bit about how normal chimeras are done..." "Well," the colonel mused "I had been thinking about paying the man a short visit, so I could introduce you.""Let's go!" Ed enthusiastically agreed"You'll still have to complete your paperwork after you realize?" his sister commented lightly, making his head drop in despair A few moments later they were in the colonel's car, heading toward the alchemists house "So, what can you tell us about that man?" Ed wondered"Shou Tucker. He became State Alchemist a year after you by presenting a chimera capable of speech...""A chimera speaking without a human in the mix?" Al doubtfully asked"Supposedly. The only thing that chimera said was 'please kill me' and it then proceeded to let itself die of hunger." the colonel added, the doubts clear in his voice The siblings shared a glance – clearly, their superior was thinking that something was going on, and they were tempted to agree. This stint at the alchemists place wasn't going to be only spent on alchemical researches.Soon enough, they were at the LifeBinding Alchemist's house. ¤.¤.¤ And apparently, the man was a slob..."I'm sorry, the house's been like that ever since my wife left." he explained as they found a place in a small office filled with paperwork He was also a single father, as had become evident the moment the door was opened by a small girl named Nina, followed by an enormous dog that promptly proceeded to squash Ed – his way of playing, according to Nina...Still, Shou Tucker accepted their presence easily enough, letting them browse through his library while he worked on his research for the incoming assessment.They soon lost themselves in the shelves upon shelves of files, easily finding the one regarding the chimera making basics. "No wonder the results are grotesque at best most of the time..." Al muttered as he was going thought the files "It seems that they didn't think to study that much the biology of the animals they were trying to meld together...""And there isn't a single mention about alkahestry either." Ariana nodded "When according to your research, I'm pretty sure it would ease the process a lot!" "It feels a lot like a kid trying to put a cube and a triangle in a circle-shaped hole and wondering why it doesn't work..." Ed added – then seeing his siblings impressed looks "What?""You made a comparison that wasn't related to food!" commented Al, eyes wide "That's like... super rare!""I'm not obsessed by food!"Two doubtful look."I'm not!" The argument was cut short by Alexander, Nina's dog, trying yet again to flatten Ed."Alexander thinks you work too much, just like daddy!" the little girl commented"Well," Ariana smiled softly at the blatant attempt at gaining attention "If Alexander says it, he must be right, mustn't he?" The little girl squealed happily as the three siblings came to play with her – Ed and Al had been a bit dumbfounded at first with Ariana's unexpectedly soft manners toward the little girl, before remembering she had been a mother; and after spending a bit of time with Nina, they soon saw a bit of themselves in the loneliness she was trying to hide being her large smile.Nina may not be an orphan like them, but she still knew about being alone, with her mother having disappeared one day two years ago and her father always nose deep in his alchemical work. As such when at the end of the day the colonel came back for them, it was to find Ed at the bottom of a puppy pile composed of Alexander, Padfoot and Tempesta under Nina's happy clamoring, the little girl soundly snuggled in Ariana's arms."Er..." Al smiled embarrassedly "We were taking a break?""Are you already going away?" Nina pouted not wanting to let go of Ariana "I had fun, don't go!""Well, I'm sure they'll be back tomorrow," her father reassured her "except if you've already done with what you were looking for?""Not at all!" Al quickly denied "There's so much material to go through!" ¤.¤.¤ And so in the following days, routine settled on – the siblings spending most of the morning and early afternoon working before devoting time playing around with the little girl who'd quickly grown attached to them, even calling them big brother and sister.As for the LifeBinding Alchemist, he seemed more and more under stress, and was rarely ever seen out of his laboratory. "From what we've read in his files, what he did with that chimera two years ago is pretty much impossible..." Ed was tempesting "But we've got no proof that he's done anything illegal...""Did you try to trace his wife?" Ariana asked softlyThe colonel sighed "So that's what you're thinking too, eh?""Wha..." Ed eye's widened as he understood what his sister was implying at the same time as Al was "You don't think..." "The only way for a chimera to talk if for it to be part human." Ariana confirmed "We've deducted that much. And his wife disappeared at the same time as he made that chimera that earned him his watch...""So that's why you're emphasizing the fact you're coming to see Nina again each day." Al realized "And that's why you look for her first time in the morning each day!""As long as there's no proof of what he's done, we can't take his daughter away from him," the colonel sighed "Legality really is tiresome...""It was much easier working from the shadows." Ariana nodded with a sigh "And I can't even put an unofficial watch on that man," the colonel added, thinking loudly "because those incompetents from New Optain are too busy spying on me.""Someone progressing too fast along the ranks will always be regarded suspiciously at best by the old geezers, you had to know that when you started on this path." Ariana commented darkly"Doesn't mean I like it." "Shit, does this mean we really can't do anything?" Ed protested despondently"Continuing what you're doing." Roy said "I'm hoping he's feeling watched enough that he doesn't do anything stupid, and with you going thought his notes you may be lucky enough to find something incriminating.Two weeks had gone by, with the siblings feverishly going through the LifeBinding Alchemist's notes, even going as far as rummaging through his office when he was holed up in his laboratory. Still, they found nothing compromising, and soon, the only place they hadn't gone thought was the laboratory itself – but to go there, they'd have to dislodge the man from his sanctuary. ¤.¤.¤ Because they were all so worried about Nina, Ariana had taken to let Padfoot stay with the little girl, the dog using his godly familiar abilities to hide in the shadows when needed in order not to be caught by her father.And that night, as they were nearly back to the military district, she suddenly saw her personal interface pulse, indicating a fight starting – and since she wasn't in any fight, it could only mean one thing. Padfoot was the one in battle "We've got to get back! Padfoot's fighting!"Even though he did wonder how she knew that, the colonel didn't doubt her and turned-about immediately, going back toward the LifeBinding Alchemist's house."Too slow..." she muttered, not even realizing that her eyes were starting to flash back to green "Sis..." Ed stated, intriguing Roy "Go on ahead, we'll worry about explanations latter."The next moment, with a thankful smile, she was gone, black flames flashing a few hundred of meters ahead, nearly unnoticeable in the shadows for those that didn't know about them.Even if her flames still weren't powerful enough to take her across the country, she had trained with them during the past few years, learning to use them in fight against her brothers or in the Arena – and now that she'd reached the rank 25 with them, she could use them to travel faster than most modern transportation in their world. "We'll explain later." Ed said to the still stunned colonel "Just hurry up, because she'll be there a lot sooner than us..."The eldest Elric was thankful that the colonel was so good at adapting, merely nodding and speeding up. It was at time like that he understood why his sister liked the bastard...When they arrived at the house, the door had been busted open, and there wasn't any noise to be heard.Rushing upstairs, they soon were in the lab, door wide open and blood splattered around. Padfoot was whining, limping weakly – his automail had been damaged, and some of the blood seemed to be his.Some more blood seemed to be from Shou Tucker, the alchemist unconscious, though still alive, pined though the wall by Fuurin in one hand, the free arm visibly broken – Ariana hadn't held back her blows.Some of the blood, it seemed, came from Ariana too – the chimera around them had been set on her, and some had managed to hurt her before dying.But most of the blood came from the messy array in the center of the room. "I'm so sorry I'm late, Nina..." she was whispering, power twirling around her "But it's going to be alright, I promise..." Roy felt nearly petrified at the sheer familiarity of the heavy power filling the room – and as a piercing headache made him stumble and nearly fell to the ground, he could have sworn that the girl in front of him should have black hair instead of golden ones, and green, green eyes...Ed and Al shared a worried glance at the unexpected reaction – but didn't have time to think on it, as the next second a newly traced array came alight glowing red from the blood runes mixed in it, deconstructing and reconstructing the little girl that had been defiled by her own father in the name of scientific progress. ¤.¤.¤ "It hurts!" the little girl sobbed, sticking herself to Ariana, still terrified"She was aware the whole time..." Al shuddered, instinctively knowing it at the child's reactionAs for his sister, she was still reassuring Nina, completely bypassing her own exhaustion. Because the melding between Nina and Alexander had been so brutal, and barely functional, rearranging the body left to give her back a somewhat human form had been much harder than it would be for the much more successful chimera rescued by Greed – or well, Shan Feng, as he was calling himself nowadays to keep to his new cover identity... As such, Ariana had had to use quite a bit of Blood Art, and had also taken on the inevitable pain that came with the transmutation, not having the heart to put the girl through it once more after what her father had just done – even to help her.Right now, she was clinging to awareness only by sheer stubbornness, knowing that the little girl still needed her. "How are we going to explain this?" Ed wondered"Ari forgot a file and came back for it, but surprised mister Tucker as he was experimenting on his daughter. She was too late to save the girl, but did manage to subdue the man." Al said after barely a second of thinking"Why too late for the daughter?" Ed wondered bemusedly"Take a look at Nina, brother! We can't let the military get their paws on her, think about what they did to mister Feng's men!" Ed, who had been to relieved to see the little girl back only then realized what his brother had seen before him – the furry ears and fluffy tail clearly marked her as a chimera, Al was right. "There was a phone in the office," the colonel remembered "I'll call the team for the preliminary investigation.""What are we going to do about Nina?" Ed wondered despondently as the officer left the room"We have find a way to hide her new appendages..." Al affirmed "Then we'll take care of her.""We're always traveling around, that's not a life for a kid! And we're children ourselves in the eyes of most people!" his brother logically pointed out"I know, but..." a sigh, and he pointed at the still trembling girl "I don't see her trusting anybody but Ari or us just right now." a shrug "We'll manage." "We'll have to change her name and her appearance." Ed mumbled, already thinking about how to make it works "It will already be dubious enough that we suddenly gained a new charge just after declaring that the bastard did his daughter in...""She is a girl you picked up in the desert." the colonel said, coming back from the study "You've had her with you for weeks, anyone in the team will attest to it." Nina, while still in shock, had still heard a bit of what was going on around her, and with the insight of a child that had been thrown in hell an survived it, she turned toward Ariana "Will you give me a new name?""Do you want me to?"A nod, as she said "Brother Ed said I had to change otherwise they would take me away from you...""Well, what about Anastasia then?" the Elric sister suggested after taking a moment to think it over "Anastasia Elric sounds good, doesn't it?"Edward smirked at the name's meaning – resurrection indeed. ¤.¤.¤ By the time the team arrived, Nina, or rather Ana, was sporting golden blond hair just like her new siblings and a healthy tan, Alphonse having been the one to get the idea of changing around the pigmentation rate in her hair and skin to differentiate her from the former Nina Tucker.Edward had healed up Padfoot and vaguely patched up his automail.The golden dog ears had been hidden in the girl's hair by changing her hair style from a pair of braid to two side-buns and pig-tail, and her tail was tucked under the baggy skirt Ariana had transmuted for her. Getting cleaned and disguised seemed to have helped the little girl, who finally accepted to let go of Ari – to stuck herself to Edward, which accepted his new role with a disgruntled sigh contradicted by his small but warm smile. "I think Ari needs a hug too," Ana then said to the colonel firmly "She's tired."The affirmation made the dark-haired man smile, and the teenage girl redden "Don't you dare..." Ed started – too late of course, as his sister somehow found herself in Roy's arms"Well, I had to obey Ana's instructions didn't I? You wouldn't want to make her sad, wouldn't you?" the colonel teased"Big brother doesn't want Ari to have hugs?" said girl asked with large, questioning eyesEd pointedly ignored the bastard's smug smirk as he surrendered "Of course Ari can have hugs too..." As for Ari – while she had debated initially, the stress was soon making itself known now that the small girl seemed better.Within moments, she was falling asleep against Roy – and that was the scene the team arrived to, Meas Hughes in tow."How cute!" he gushed "You hid from me you liked your woman younger you old dog!"Roy groaned as the loud man started babbling around – and Ariana mumbled lightly before snuggling a bit and falling back deeper into sleep – making most of the team laugh and Maes gush even more. "She's going to sleep for days again isn't she?" Al sighed"Probably." Ed agreed "With what she did..." Deciding that this mystery would wait a bit – like, for example, until the situation calmed down and they could get out of this house, Roy asked to his best friend "So, what the hell are you doing here? I would have asked for an Investigation team, but I doubt you had some kind of premonition to show up that fast.""There's been sighting of Scar in the East, so I was sent to Investigate and alert East City.""Scar?" Ed inquired, while adjusting his hold on the other Elric girl that had fallen into Circe's arms too "A killer who's going around targeting State Alchemists. He got five in Central City and ten around the country in a few months, but it's the first time he's been sighted in the East..." explained Maes, growing serious "The strangest thing is that the investigations haven't managed to uncover how he kills his victims. And they aren't rookies either, he got the IronBlood Alchemist a week's ago."Roy winced – Maes was right, if even that Ishval veteran had been killed, that Scar man was dangerous.And if he was after State Alchemists, he would go after the Elric Siblings; at that realization, his grip tightened a bit on the sleeping girl in his arms, a surge of protectiveness briefly invading his senses. After that, the Investigation had been wrapped up and Shou Tucker taken in custody, the man still in shock and babbling about a green-eyed goddess of wrath.The team easily concluded that he was already unhinged – he had after all used his daughter in a forbidden transmutation – and didn't bother listening to his prattle as he was sent to the military district to await for his trial. As for Ana's presence – a pointed comment from the colonel about the adopted sibling the Elric brother had introduced them to weeks ago as their had arrived had taken care of that.The perks of a trusty team... It was at their exhausted behavior as they entered his car without question that Roy was reminded of how young the siblings were – an additional proof of how tired they were was the fact that it took Ed nearly five minutes to notice "This isn't the military district's direction, bastard."Even the insult lacked its usual punch."I'm taking you at my place." he answered "It's nearer and we all need to sleep."The eldest Elric didn't even protest. Sleeping arrangement had been sorted as fast as possible, everyone more than ready for sleep; and it hadn't been that hard as the two brothers had simply informed their colonel that they were quite used to share a bedroom, and even a bed when needed – and if Roy got the impression that the need right now was for the Elric siblings to have their family within touching reach in order to be able to have any peace of mind after the mentally testing night, he didn't say anything...As expected, by the time he woke up, still tired but internal clock not caring about it, he found that the now four Elric Siblings had fallen a sleep in a puppy pile, pets protectively surrounding them. It took several more hours before Al and Ana emerged from the bedroom."Morning," Al mumbled, accepting the breakfast laid out on the kitchen table with a thanks "Aren't we supposed to already be at work?" he then asked as he started becoming more aware of his surrounding and noticed in was nearly ten AM"We've all been given three days of rest by the General after last nights events.""Good." the boy approved, munching on his pancake while checking Anastasia was eating too "I don't think we'd be up to anything today..." "Morning, Al, Ana, bastard.""Morning FullMetal.""You shouldn't use such language in front of Ana." Al chastised "Did you check on Ari?" "Sleeping like the dead, like we predicted.""Is sister tired?""She used some very special kind of alchemy to heal you," Al explained "So she is a bit tired now. But she'll be alright in a few days, don't worry.""Special alchemy, eh?" Roy repeated "And those black flames?""An ability she was born with." Ed answered "Just like her Soul Art.""Really, how many secrets does this girl have?" the colonel wondered, a bit exasperated at the constant mystery that shrouded the Elric sister ¤.¤.¤ "You have no idea..." Ed mumbled, able to sympathize a bit "She still manages to surprise us regularly after all.""Surprise you about what?""Ari! You're awake already! We thought you wouldn't be up for days!""I'm not up to fighting a Boss just right now, but I'm awake." his sister confirmed, shaking a bit with exhaustion and quickly letting herself drop into a chair "Still, it's good you were working on alkahestry to help Dublith's gang or I would never had been able to save Ana." she admitted "The transmutation was really instable...""Speaking about transmutation..." "I can use blood like other alchemists use elements as source of their alchemy." she explained "I don't really talk about it because people could easily mix it with human transmutation.""So that's how your notes are locked!""Wow," Al praised, a bit jealous "I can't believe you caught on that one so fast... It took me weeks..." "Even if we're off duty, we'll still have to drop by headquarter," announced Roy as they finished their breakfast"Depositions to confirm and sign?""Exactly." a mocking smile "And for the latest of us, an assessment to file in..." Edward groaned, and within minutes he'd taken his report out from nowhere and was speeding through it to finish it.As for Ariana, she was writing too, but in her notebook – and a curious colonel glanced to recognize some of the unknown symbols he'd seen the day before "What are you working on?""Some kind of array to help Ana hid her features when needed." she answered "I was wondering if I could tie some kind of trigger to her blood so that only she could turn it on and off..." Within minutes, the two were in their bubble, working about various theories and Aria answering the numerous questions Roy had about her newly uncovered talent, making Ed groan and Ana laugh."They are cute!" she affirmed loudly, making the two realize they had forgotten all about the rest of the people present for a moment ¤.¤.¤ It was mid-afternoon by the time they got to the military district to get their paperwork done."Colonel Mustang!" an aide loudly called a as they were nearing the large plaza where the main entry was "All State Alchemists are to report to General Grumman ASAP! The LifeBinding Alchemist has been..."They felt the killing intent at the same moment the aide fell to the ground, blood splattering "Close your eyes, Ana." Ari instructed to the little girl in her elder brother's arms – she had been denied the right to carry her as she was supposed to still be recovering – not really caring about that right now, Fuurin slithering easily in her grip"The Flame Alchemist! It seems I'm lucky today!"commented the tall, dark-skinned man with a large X-shaped scar on his forehead Roy dodged out of the attack nimbly, while sending a burst of fire toward his attacker, and somehow, he wasn't surprised to see Ariana's silhouette rushing toward the man, fury burning in her eyes – wait, were her eyes green? He pushed back the headache that was menacing from resurfacing and focused himself on the fight. "FullMetal," he commanded "Get out of here, this isn't a place for Ana."For once – or rather twice in two day, it really was becoming strange – the teenager didn't protest and broke into a run toward the entrance – only to have to jump back, as the man had managed to push back Ari violently before going after her brother "Another State Alchemist! It really is a good day!" he affirmed"What's your problem with alchemists!" Ed shouted while dodging and trying to protect his new sister "If there are creators, then there must be destroyers." the man stated "Alchemist twist the natural state of thing into a degenerate, unholy state! That is a sacrilege and as messengers of god, it falls to us to carry judgment!""I see." Ed interpreted, eyes growing colder "You're just another arrogant man wanting to justify his actions by yammering the name of a god then..."His answer angered the already furious man, but he had to evade Mustang's flames, giving Ed enough time let Ana slide to the ground "I want to run toward that big door, alright?" a nod, and the girl was dashing, surprisingly fast and nimble for her ageJust as expected, Scar didn't seem to care, focused on the alchemists. All of his attacks were coming from his right hand, they soon noticed – and when his hand connected with Ari, then Al but didn't do anything, he seemed really surprised – until, of course, Al's sleeve was thorn, revealing his automail "Ah, I see, metal limbs..." his smile grew wider "It's not human deconstruction I should have used then..." It was with that that they understood what it was doing – he had been kind enough to spell it for them after all – in the three basics steps of alchemy of comprehension, deconstruction and reconstruction, he was stopping at the second step. No wonder the Investigation squad hadn't manage to find out how he was killing his targets... Things went from bad to worse the moment he understood about their automail, the man swiftly getting rid of Al's arm, effectively putting him out of the fight – Ed jumped in just in time to prevent his next attack to connect with his brother, and Roy managed to produce enough smoke for Al to retreat toward the gate, where noise was coming from – the echoes of their fight had finally been noticed then. As for Ariana, she had been running on pure adrenaline in this fight, seeing as she had already been drained before it – but by now, anger was adding itself to adrenaline, as became apparent as she rushed toward the man, surprising him enough that Fuurin left a bloody mark on his cheek "I really despise hypocrite like you." she said "You've got a grudge against States Alchemists because of Ishval, don't you?"he laughed, and did discard his shades revealing as expected red eyes "So what little girl? What could you know of it?" he taunted, a hand to the ground making it crumble under her "I know that you dare act all and mighty when you're no better than us State Alchemist! After all, didn't you kill the Amestrians doctor that saved your life when you received this scar?" she spat back at him "You're using your god as an excuse, but you're nothing more than a mad beast! What was the Rockbell's crime when they saved you, tell me?" she asked, while dodging the unstable ground toward him, next attack grazing her but getting only the fabric, but not the metallic limb under it Jumping away, Ari took a shuddering breathe, feeling that her limbs were growing heavier by the moment as she wasn't able to push her exhaustion away anymore. Thankfully, it was also the moment reinforcement finally arrived in the form of a tall and muscular man in uniform."I've come to help you against the fiend that dared kill an unarmed man an attack children! How distasteful! I the StrongArm Alchemist will take you on!""They keep coming one after the other!" the man commented with an amused smile, before dodging the new alchemist heavy attacks "But I guess with so many at the same time I'm at a disadvantage..." With a last large-scale attack, he made the ground crumble, forcing everyone to jump out of the gaping hole that had appeared and gave way directly into the city's underbelly.Then, a familiar blue vest was dropped on Ari's head as she was taken from the spot she had collapsed on "I can walk!" she protested feebly while trying to keep the vest on – having realized that with her coat blasted into pieces and her top mostly gone she wouldn't be covered for much longer if she moved too much "No, you can't." Ed swiftly contradicted – making Roy wonder if the boy was scheming something as he was taking his side for the third time in two daysThe next moment, Ana was rushing toward them, tear stains on her cheek but smiling, and they finally were able to enter the military district – now with twice as much paperwork to fill, as loudly complained Ed. ¤.¤.¤ Now that he knew that Ariana was a girl, Roy had swiftly found back his equilibrium – but then, weeks went by, and it was soon apparent that those damn siblings were late.He was starting to worry, but thankfully they did eventually return a few weeks after the new year. He enjoyed immensely spending as much time as possible with the little alchemist in the following weeks – and it had the added value of annoying her brother to no end, which was always entertaining... He had been rather happy at Al's request for a chimera specialist, hoping that the siblings would manage to expose the trash for what he was – except they did, but were nearly too late. And Roy didn't even want to think about the poor girl if Ariana hadn't been able once more to go past what he thought was possible and give her back a body as normal as possible given the circumstancesEven if he wouldn't admit it to FullMetal, he was impressed by how swiftly they took in the situation and decided to take the girl as their own sibling, acting once more mature way beyond their actual age. But what truly haunted him that night was the strange power that clearly hadn't been alchemy, and the silhouette of a woman, achingly familiar, that his mind seemed bent on associating with Ariana. Still, when the WindBlade Alchemist unexpectedly woke up, he didn't push her ever though he knew she wasn't being completely honest - she hadn't even been truthful toward her brothers for years, in spite of their close relationship, so he could accept that she needed some time before feeling ready to confide.And what she did explain of her abilities still had been fascinating... Then, that blasted Scar attacked them, and those green eyes were back, nearly making him loose his focus. The fight ended with Scar running away, but it was still frustrating to realize the damn Ishvalian had been able to keep up with the four of them – because even if WindBlade had been spent from the get-go and FullMetal had had a child to protect before anything else, it didn't change the fact.This had been a total failure.And Roy Mustang really despised failing. ¤.¤.¤ But for now, he had another problem – because he really couldn't afford to be distracted in a fight because of echoes of someone he didn't even know, it was far too dangerous. And it wasn't in his habits to avoid problems – well except one notable exception Riza had taken care of. Still... So as soon as he could afford with the chaos that followed the attack, he whisked Ariana away into his office, locking the door in order not to be interrupted – and forcing himself not to stare at his uniform on her, this was more important dammit!After all, who better to demand answers from than the one provoking theses strange reactions? And even if logic dictated that the young alchemist probably wouldn't have the first idea about what he was going on about, and would think him completely mad, instinct was telling him that she knew something. "Colonel?" Ariana asked, surprised"I lied when I said Riza told me about you because I need your file. She told me because I realized I'm completely obsessed with you."This wasn't what he had intended to talk about – yet he couldn't help himself.Which seemed to be the norm when it came to Ariana Elric, the one girl to mange to catch his fancy...He could hear her breath caught in her throat at that affirmation – and evidently, she had understood exactly what he meant. Which wasn't unexpected, it was her intelligence that caught his attention first after all. "And I'm pretty much certain you aren't indifferent either." he pursued with a mirthful smirk"You damn, arrogant man." she grumbled "Of course I'm not, and you used every occasion you could to make me blush. Ed is right, something must be wrong with my brain for me to have fallen in love with you yet again..."His eyes widened at that affirmation, and it was like a dam broke. Ariana gasped at the familiar energy gathering around him – memories and feelings of two life flashed in his mind and merged, then the next moment, familiar green letters were appearing in front of his eyes from the first time in this life... [Reincarnation Challenge Complete!] Dismissing the multitude of notification that followed for latter, he focused on the petite silhouette he'd been towering over, he leaned closer, taking in her part-surprised part-hopeful look, and in a whisper, confirmed "I'm back, bambina." Chapter VIII: Spring 1914 Unsurprisingly, it had been that moment FullMetal had chosen to barge in, loudly yelling "I knew it! Molester! Let go of my sister!" The next moment he was dodging a fireball – right into the path of one of his sister's knives, and letting out a whine "Ari..." a glare "You've corrupted her, damn bastard!" As for the rest of the team, they were enjoying the drama, Riza coughing a bit before stating sweetly "Colonel... Remember what I said?" "Age of consent, lieutenant Hawkeye, I know." the man parroted in answer, making Ariana laugh from her position in a chair, Roy regretfully stepping away from her "But I didn't do anything!" he protested "Yet." Breda completed – the scene had been rather damning after all "Well, as amusing as this is," the colonel commented "Some of us still have the day off, so we'll be going!" he announced, picking Ariana up "After all, we've got a lot of catching up to do!" "You're not going anywhere alone with my sister!" Ed hotly protested "I'd guess at that pendant around their neck they know about your game?" Roy asked idly A nod "They do." At the game reference, Ed had calmed down, and he was now giving the man a speculative look shared by his brother – Ari hadn't told the bastard about Chaos Game, and certainly didn't have time in the few minutes the colonel had managed to kidnap her, yet he now seemed to know. "Well," he suggested, ignoring the surprised looks from the team at his sudden calm "Let's go then, colonel bastard." "Let's, FullMetal midget." And with that, he was already out of the room – still holding on Ariana, to the team's hilarity – while the eldest Elric was raging and following suit, Al and Ana after him. "Why is brother Ed using bad words?" the little girl was heard wondering as they left, only adding to the general hilarity The Elric and Roy were soon back in the man's car, and Ariana finally asking "So? How?" "Death's Blessing was actually a challenge issued by Life." he explained "The moment I activated the challenge, I would be sent directly to my next reincarnation, except my memories would be blocked instead of erased." "That's why you still acted so much... like you!" He chuckled at the statement, and explained "Yes, that's why." "Wait, wait..." Al interrupted, suddenly understanding "You mean that the colonel regained his memories from his previous life!" Ariana's happy smile was more than enough of an answer. "So, how exactly is it possible?" Ed wondered "Life declared me her Champion." "A Champion is a mortal that is imbued by a powerful god's powers, and must take care of one or several tasks set for him by the god." Ariana explained "In this case, I'd guess your task was to complete the Reincarnation Challenge?" "It was." he nodded "And the moment I completed it I regained my memories of Renato Sinclair, as well as access to Chaos' Game." a smug smile "But more importantly, I found you back, bambina." "Wow, I didn't think it was possible but... Ari was your husband even worst of a smug arrogant bastard in his previous life than in the current one?" wondered Ed while dodging the explosion coming his way by sauntering in said bastard's house "Hm, handy." commented Roy "Seems that because I now actually remember being reincarnated and passing through the Gate to get to this world, I can do this circle-less trick too now." he commented "Ah! So it really is remembering entering this word that does it!" Ariana's eyes brightened at her theory being confirmed "I knew it!" "So... now what?" Ed wondered "It's good and all the bastard's became a bigger bastard but what does it really change?" "Well, Ari is happy." Al shrugged "It's more than enough, no?" "Right now, it only means that I have more memories." the colonel agreed "What it really changes is that now or in the next life, you're now not getting rid of me, bambina..." "You mean..." "Well, I did promise, didn't I? He commented, revealing his left wrist, and a familiar tattoo "For as long as our love shall last..." As if magic had been waiting only for the words to be spoken, Ariana felt warmth fill her as a feeling that had been gone for too long was suddenly back. Eyes filled with wonder, she revealed her own wrist, where the same tattoo was suddenly back. "See," his fingers trailed on her skin, tracing the familiar symbol "we are still one." ¤.¤.¤ Al, who'd been restraining Ed for a few minutes, finally lost his hold on their elder brother that had been fuming until now. Except he wasn't anymore, because he may not know what the hell the weird tattoo was, he didn't need to know Ari as well as he did to understand that it was important to her. And the bastard may be even worst than before – he still had managed to came back for her, which was quite impressive. And there was so much depth to the feelings he managed to read in his eyes that suddenly, it didn't really matter all that much that he was a bastard. Because Edward really couldn't think of anyone else ever caring for his sister that much. So, even though he really wanted to, he didn't blow a fuse when the man captured his sister's lips for a soft kiss. At least it didn't last too long... Then, Ana, who had been playing with Tempest and Padfoot, announced "Padfoot says that the colonel bas-tard is supposed to wait for the age of cons-cent." Ed mentally cheered on the dog's comment – then realized what Ana had just said. "You can understand Padfoot?" Al was the one to ask "And Tempesta." the little girl confirmed "Even if she speaks weirdly..." "Well, she is a dog chimera." Ariana pointed out "So I guess she gained the ability to understand canine... " "And I should be able to kiss my own wife without her dogfather interfering!" "You're not married in this world!" Ed protested, good-will finally overcome by his natural temper "My sister is still far too young, you fucking pedo! Padfoot is right!" "Well..." Ariana contradicted, amused "Technically, we just renewed our wedding vows." Ed's mouth dropped open. Seeing how his brother seemed to have disconnected his brain, Al steered the conversation in another direction "So you are now a main player of Chaos' Game like Ari?" "I am." he confirmed "Chaos took care of this before I was sent here. Speaking of which, are you the only players?" "There's Winry in Rosembool." Ed answered, finally back from his small mental breakdown "Why?" "I was thinking on bringing Riza in on it," a shrug "She's pretty much my sorella, there's no way she won't noticed I've changed." "Family is important." Ariana nodded, not really surprised he considered the lieutenant like a sister "Anyway, she'll probably drop by later, won't she?" "She did say she would bring the additional paperwork regarding that Scar incident." he said, eyes darkening at the memory "Speaking of that..." "It can't happen again." Ariana said – and Al was bemused to see how much more in tune they were than before "Indeed. I'm notching up my training. And yours." At that affirmation, Ari whitened, making Al and Ed share a worried glance – the girl that had thought teacher's training methods fun was afraid? This couldn't be good, could it? ¤.¤.¤ As it turned out, it wasn't good, and the man was a complete sadistic bastard when it came to training, as he demonstrated several times in the following hours, pushing the two Elric brothers through their paces while the two sisters watched from the side-line, since Ariana was still recovering. And what the man lacked in alchemical knowledge, he more than made up in shear battle prowess, taking his new ability with circle-less alchemy in stride and adapting it to his fighting style in mere moments. So it was that Riza arrived a few hours later to a strange show – earlier than expected, because she had been worried for her superior, having noted he seemed different in the small lapse of time she'd seen him before he left the military district. Anastasia was happily cheering on two ragged Elric brothers, Al still having only one hand and thus no access to alchemy on-the-fly, Ariana by her side throwing some comments from time to time while jolting down notes on paper a the same time. "New project?" she inquired "That fight earlier made me realize I was missing something..." a frown "I'm good enough to fight against normal fighters, but as soon as a worthy opponent as Scar appeared, I was worthless." "Technically you're the only one that managed to touch him." Riza had to correct her, a bit surprised at the harsh assessment of her own skills the girl had "It wasn't enough." Roy contradicted too "none of us were good enough." "Scar was only human, yet he nearly got us all," Ed added, having come to understand a bit the two's frustration sometimes during the sparring session from hell "Yet according to Feng, there are up to six homunculus on top of the original one." "So whether we like to fight or not is irrelevant right now." Al concluded "Because we are going to have to anyway." and it wasn't a happy realization for him, who really was a pacifist by nature – but even if he didn't like to fight, he also didn't intent to watch the others fight without him when the time came And somehow, he doubted, just like the rest of them, that the homunculus would be stopped without a fight or two. "So, what did you think up, bambina?" wondered Roy, leaning casually toward the notes the girl had been making "An alchemical version of my Crimson Edge." she said with a blood-thirsty smile "I got the idea from Scar's methods." He answered with his own smile, making Al shudder. His brother was right – that man was a sadistic bastard. As for Riza, her eyebrow shot up. She had been right, something had changed with Roy, and even more so with his interactions with Ariana. As if sensing her curiosity – and probably guessing at it, since they did knew each other well, the colonel chuckled "Patience, Riza, I'll explain in a few minutes." With that, the boys ducked inside to shower, Ana enthusiastically explaining to the lieutenant how the colonel was so strong he could beat brother Ed and brother Al at the same time and shoot at them without hurting them too much. The shooting comment intrigued Riza – while the colonel had followed the standard firearm formation at the academy, he didn't really keep nor use any firearm, his alchemy and boot-knife more than enough to protect himself. And it was true – except that, a few minutes within the sparring session, the Elric siblings and Roy had received an unexpected visit... Apparently, since he had been a Soul-bound familiar in their previous life, the shape-shifting chameleon Leon had found his way to the colonel, and watched him without revealing his presence ever since. And since his master was now whole again, the strange pet was back too, which meant that the greatest hitman in the world also had his favorite weapon back. Ed and Al had spent a lot of time dodging, be it bullets or explosions, during that afternoon... ¤.¤.¤ Soon, the group was settled in the living-room, Al entertaining Ana and while Ed was sinking into one of the couches, still glaring at the colonel while mumbling for himself. Even if he didn't like to admit it, he knew that they had to improve, and so – just like his sister – he was already thinking up new, lethal ways to use his alchemy. "So, what's going on Roy?" "I finally remembered why I was born with these eyes." a satisfied smile "And I found what I was looking for." "Taking at the casual way you're snuggling with WindBlade without FullMetal biting at your head, I'd say it's related to her?" "Our sister remembers her previous life. Both of them." Ed explained succinctly "And in the last one, she was married with the bastard... And since he's an arrogant bastard, he decided that small details like losing your memories when being reincarnated didn't really apply to him since he had a wife to find again..." Riza would have be tempted to doubt, if not for the fact that somehow – it was too unbelievable not to be true, and it also seemed to fit her friend to a T. "Technically," Roy contradicted "I didn't have my memories, even if they were trying to break out each time I caught a glimpse of the bambina's previous powers..." "Now that I think about it," Al said from where he was playing with Ana – and was he trying to teach her alchemy? "you didn't told us what made you regain your memories..." Ari and Riza shared an amused glance, as they noted that the man seemed a bit – embarrassed – at the question. What could it have been for him to react like that? "I had to find you, love you, and confess. And you had to love me as Roy just as you loved me as Renato and confess." he admitted softly to his wife, making her blush and lean a bit more into him Her whisper, echoing his comment earlier was heard only by him "For as long as our love shall last..." Riza was far from stupid – and while she was happy for Roy and Ari, she also knew that there had to be more to the situation than just two lover finding each other again. And with an imperious look, she said as much, making the annoying man laugh – why did she consider him a brother again? "You're right, of course, sorella." he nodded – and she noted the unknown endearment, that sounded to come from the same language as the new one he'd used for Ari earlier, undoubtedly something from his previous life "Ari is an immortal that gets reincarnated repeatedly nearby people that have been designed to do something important in their life." said Al with a smile "Our very own guardian-angel if you will." "More like angel of death..." corrected Ed, amused "But yes, that's it. Basically, it's only because Ari is so special that the bastard was given the chance to follow her." "But the point is that I've now by memories back, and with them my gifts too." said Roy "And Chaos' Game is a tool really useful. But this time, it seems to only be shared with those seen as family..." Ariana explained, mumbling for herself "Probably because of the Gate restricting the holy powers flow between this world and the Immortal Realms..." Riza eye's widened as words appeared in green letters in front of her eyes – not only because this was something so completely alien, but also because of what Ariana had said. Family. The reason why she could have access to this – even if she had known that Roy saw her as family just as she did him, he had never said it in words. And now, she had the proof... ¤.¤.¤ Al had been the one to explain most of the basic functions of Chaos' Game to her – the kid really had a gift for teaching, as Ana had proved by being able in under an hour to explain one of the basic tenants of alchemy. The evening had been more relaxed after that – thought Roy had reaffirmed the need to train more, and enrolled Riza in it. Not that she really minded. Plans had to be made to go to Rosembool too, as Al's automail had been destroyed, even thought they had gathered the parts they could, and Padfoot's limb, while functional, was only a temporary repair. That night, Riza took one of the guest rooms, while the Elric siblings shared yet again the room they had slept in the night before. But barely an hour after falling asleep, Ed startled awake – and soon understood why when he noticed his sister missing. Since he was up anyway, he silently went down the stairs to the kitchen, a bit thirsty – stopped himself before entering the living room, hearing two soft voices speaking. He knew he shouldn't listen in, but the first sentence he heard made him stay. "It doesn't matter if I will find you again in your next life, bambina, I'm not letting you die early in this one!" "There's no changing it, Ren!" contrary to the time she'd said it to him years ago, the anger burned hot rather than cold in her voice this time No. It wasn't anger, of course not, it was far worse. It was fear. Because the little sister that always appeared so strong in front of the others still was afraid, and being reborn didn't mean wanting to let go of this life. And this wasn't a fear she could show in front of her brothers that still were eaten by guilt... "It's not like I want to die young again, but Ren... I've already maxed out my Hallows skill for this life. Holy powers..." "Aren't meant to be used by mortals..." he completed, as if it was something he'd heard already several times – and it probably was "But there is a way, bambina!" "What do you mean?" "Just like Mukuro and Chrome..." "Their situation was different! What they shared mainly was power!" "Yet Chrome was living on Mukuro's lifespan. We could craft an alchemy ritual to do this." "The price would be taken on your own lifespan!" "Ah but bambina... I'd rather live twenty years with you than thirty without you..." A defeated sigh, and Ari pushed her head against his chest, mumbling "How mean, using my own words against me..." "You already knew I was a sadistic bastard." "You are." Ed could hear the pout in her voice. He was smiling as he silently made his way back to his room, thirst forgotten, and thankful that his sister had been too focused on her talk to sense his presence. It had been a bit frustrating earlier to realize that with his memories back, the bastard now knew far more about his little sister than before – and to be honest, he had been a bit jealous of the man. But right now, he was really thankful for that knowledge, and his devotion to her. Because bastard he may be, it was that bastard that had found a way to repair his mistake, and for that, he owed the man. May be he'd try to do his paperwork on time for a few months. Or weeks. After all, he couldn't let the bastard get too used to it, couldn't he? Back in the living-room, Roy smiled softly at the girl that had fallen asleep in his arms, the fear that had been eating at him since he'd had his memories back finally calming down. He wasn't loosing her so soon this time, he would make sure of it. Truth be told, it wasn't even the first time he envisaged this ritual – he had thought about it when he was still Renato Sinclair, the all-knowing Fae Mizuki helping with the research, the blond witch not wanting to lose her friend so soon either. In the end, they had concluded that the ritual wouldn't hold, as their powers had been incompatible, his Sun Flames not able to take charge over the powerful Sky Flames of his wife. But this time – this time Flame alignment wasn't in the way, and a few years of life weren't even a sacrifice in front of the possibility to keep her by his side a bit longer! Finally, the Elric were in Rosembool, new sibling in tow – and Winry had nearly burst their ears with her loud squealing when she first saw the little girl's doggy appendages. And then again when she learned that the colonel had regained his memories from his previous life. Ed and Al had felt very happy that heir sister wasn't prone to such outbursts. Even if she did have her own flaws – like for example, the sadistic side she hid most of the time and came to haunt them at full force during torture... er sparring time. But within the week they spent in Rosembool, the result of their new, harsher training regiment was already visible, and each sibling had managed to came up with a new attack. Ariana, as she had stated after the fight against Scar, had adapted her previous life attack – the Crimson Edge was an attack that condensed the disintegration properties of her Storm Flames. Using Scar's ability to stop to the disintegration part of the transmutation process, she engraved two array into all her blades – one that would disintegrate any organic matters coming in contact with the weapon and one that would take care of synthetic matters. Creating these arrays had been far harder than she'd thought, and that was why she decided to have them already engraved on her weapon opposed to just add them on the go like she did with her Cutting Edge circles – because the purpose of alchemy was to recreate, and not to destroy, using it like that wasn't instinctive and so with the array being already written rather than having to think about them during a fight, she reduced the possibility of any error being made; a rebound with an array created to destroy was bound to be catastrophic after all. Ed was working on a long-range technique he could use, since his reputation as a close-range fighter was well-established it was doubtful someone wouldn't try to take advantage of it one day or another... As for Al, he was looking more into way to defend himself, trying to create an array that could allow to temporary change the density of an item – an idea inspired by what they had seen of Greed's interesting ability to reinforce and regenerate his body during the Boss fights against him in the Arena. Automail repaired, the siblings were then back to East City, ready for their next assignment. ¤.¤.¤ "Youswell? Doesn't this city fall under New Optain's care?" Alphonse wondered "It does." the colonel confirmed "But the reports and numbers New Optain gives us about it are fishy at best, and don't go in the same direction as the rumors I've gleamed at all." "Well," Ariana grabbed the file "Let's get to work then." "No goodbye kiss, bambina?" the man pouted, enjoying immensely the chaos the comment provoked in the rest of the office Chaos Ariana only added to when she casually leaned over the desk to comply – and even if the kiss was quite chaste, it still stirred the passions in the office, Havoc wailing a desperate no while Fuery handed a few bills to a smug Breda with a sigh. As for Ed, he pinched the bridge of his nose "I'm going to have to get used to it, won't I?" "You're taking this pretty calmly..." a surprised Fuery remarked "I just don't want to get burned. Or shot. Or sliced." he commented, Al and him whitening a bit at the memory of the colonel's conceptualization of training Riza raised an eyebrow at the comment, making a note to ask Roy about it, while the four siblings were off to the train station – and she noted, amused that with the mission they'd been assigned, they wouldn't even be gone for a month, which was quite a short mission for the siblings. "They are lugging a child around, I can't have them on the road for month." was his evidently dishonest answer when she remarked on it "You know the worst with that bastard having his memories back?" Ed sighed as he acknowledged a notification "He can harass me even when he isn't here!" he said, glaring at the message he'd just received Al and Ari shared an amused smile at the huffing statement, and settled back in their own notes, all of them lost in their own work – now that her Crimson Edge was back, Ariana was starting to work more with her Blood Art and runes. If she was doing a life-biding ritual with Roy, there was no way she wasn't checking anyway to lessen the burden on him. And working on that also made her stumble on another thing – a Blood Magic Ritual in the Ravenclaw's Grimoire that dealt with adoption. She glanced at Ana, and decided to check if it could work with alchemy and Blood Art before talking about it with her brothers and the little girl. Still, it could be a good way to definitively change her appearance as a child that was blood-adopted tended to take on a few features from the one that did the adoption – whereas just modifying the melamine concentration around her body was only a temporary solution that had to be redone regularly... ¤.¤.¤ "Well, looks like the bastard was spot on, once more." Ed noted as they arrived at the train's terminus Indeed – for a mining town, the place wasn't very lively, and all the workers they saw around looked worn and tired. This wasn't coherent at all with the reports from New Optain, that reported a medium sized mine full of activity and a prosperous town to go with it. "Let's look for an Inn, Ana's tired." Al said, looking around the derelict looking place "Oh! Customers!" was the happy shout that his suggestion provoked from a pre-adolescent boy that enthusiastically dragged them to one of the unkempt building "Here! This is the only Inn in the town!" The two boys shared a nonplussed glance, and Ariana bopped them on the back of the head with a sigh "Customer means money. And judging by the whole town's state, money is something everyone here desperately need." "Not everyone," the tall innkeeper corrected "Just us normal people." "What do you mean?" "Well it's those military scums fault!" the kid that had dragged them here loudly explained "How so?" wondered Al, happy that the answers to their current mission seemed to be falling in his laps freely "First lieutenant Yoki." one of the regular that was nursing his beer a table away spat "Greedy bastard if there's one. He controls the mine, owns it, and line the brass' pockets with bribes while starving us." While some were explaining that, Ariana had been bargaining for their stay. "We don't have that kind of cash on us." a frown "Or rather nobody has that kind of cash at hand, really, I can get you need money but acting like that you're no better than the guys who's destroying your town." "You dare..." "I do." she interrupted coldly "Clearly something is going wrong with the military in this town, but that's no reason to generalize to every damn military in the country, that's just stupid." "Well they're letting Yoki get away with it!" "Are they?" she raised an eyebrow "Then I guess we can head back and forget all about your situation then." she commented "That's good to know, we'll be off with the next train." Their conversation had gained attention, and one of the customers, eyeing them suspiciously, asked "Are you military dogs?" "As a matter of fact, the three of us are." Ed nodded "Then you have nothing to do here!" the kid that had dragged them earlier shouted "Yes, the innkeeper already stated it clearly enough." Ariana shrugged "All the better I guess, we'll be back to East City faster, and can say to the colonel that he was wrong, nothing fishy is going on here and as such there wasn't any need for us to do anything." "You would, wouldn't you, military scum!" "You think they heard the part where we were sent here to help them but they are refusing our help?" Al asked Ed "Nope, don't think so." he denied "Well, let's go and see that Yoki bastard, seems he's the one we've got to take care of." a forlorn sigh "Still, can't we do a fake report where we say to the colonel he was wrong? The bastard would be so annoyed to think he'd been wrong!" "Then he'd see the true report, learn that you mocked him, and whip out another training session from hell." contradicted his brother By the time the townsmen started to understood what the siblings had been saying, they were already gone. ¤.¤.¤ "Wow, talk about a cliché villain..." Ari mused, voice raising in astonishment as the siblings witnessed a man that judging by the stripes on his uniform must have been First Lieutenant Yoki, parading between two brutish looking soldiers while coming to extort a few shop-owners, or rather 'collecting taxes' "Should we go and introduce ourselves?" Ed suggested with a grin that didn't bode well for said First Lieutenant "Let's." nodded their sister, the expression on her face echoing his "Brother Ed and sister Ari are weird." stated Ana, tone slightly perplexed "That they are." agreed Al, amused, as true to their word his siblings were accosting the man Within moments, Ari and Ed's charm had operated, and they had convinced the buffoon they were here to confirm the positive rumors Central had been hearing about him. Why ever would Central want to have anything to do with such a small, poor town, he didn't seem to wonder about. Not even realizing that it wasn't Central that was in charge of towns in this part of the country except when something big, like a rebellion happened... Still, at least they'd gotten a good meal out of the idiot. Then, they'd tricked him into selling his mine to them against a promise to make him having a promoting and a mountain of gold – alchemy-made gold. Hey, it was about time they went against the third of the major rules State Alchemists were suppose to abide! "Ah, you understand that since alchemist aren't supposed to make gold this have to be our little secret?" Ari smiled sweetly "Of course, of course!" "Just put on the act that you gifted it to us." Ed encouraged, handing a pen to the man "As for this," he added, waving at the lines and lines of gold that were lining the study "It's just a present between friends." "And what good friends you are!" the First Lieutenant nodded eagerly "Adults are weird." Ana, who was drawing and keeping herself entertained near Al, whispered And so, a meal, a night, and a fraud later, they were leaving Yoki's mansion – not without Ed sneaking back to the study to turn the gold back to what it initially was. Coal. ¤.¤.¤ Eager shouts welcomed them when they barged in the room where several of the townsmen from the day before were assembled to try and cook up a way to fight back against the man that was making their life hell. "Ah! The military kids!" "We really didn't like what you said yesterday, but you were right." the innkeeper was sighing "We were so focused on our own problems that we were starting to become bad people ourselves..." a smile "We were thinking about scrapping the fee for the train and send someone to Central to tell at least try to fill a complain." "So you woke up." Ari smiled approvingly "But I don't know what people in this city got with Central!" Ed loudly added "First Buffoon was the same 'please put a good word for me in Central'..." he laughed "As if!" "Central isn't in charge of Youswell, it falls under East City authority." Al explained to the nonplussed miners "Someone in New Optain was getting reports, and bribes from Yoki. Our superior in East City was finding the reports to be... lacking, so he sent us to check what truly was going on." "Colonel Mustang is a bastard, but he's a bastard that cares about people." Ed confirmed – he was better off repaying his debt toward the man by improving his reputation where he couldn't see it, otherwise he'd become even more arrogant "Anyway, we've got to get back to East City, but we've got this thing that just won't fit in our bags..." Ariana said "So here, take it!" "That's... That's the mine ownership!" "And it's got my name on it!" "Only because it was the shortest to write." Al teased "How dare you call you elder brother so short he could ride an amoeba and drown in a water drop!" Yoki choose that moment to barge in, having apparently realized that his gold had disappeared. But of course, with the way the Elric Siblings had made him word the ownership act, there was nothing the man could do. "Oh," Ari added with a sweet smile as the man was realizing he had lost everything "And do be ready to answer a summon to East District to be court-martial-ed. After all, attempted bribe on State Alchemist, misappropriation of resources managed for the military and ill-gained promotions aren't viewed kindly." "Well!" Ed loudly proclaimed as the man was dragged away, presumably to be held in custody – and if he looked like he was resisting arrest, you couldn't blame the miners for restraining him a bit violently "That was done quickly! Let's get back to East City, the colonel bastard must be getting bored without us!" [Side Quest Complete! 50XP Reward: 1 utility belt Lv45 (medium armor: +50 defense, +25 concentration, +25 mind speed)] [Level up! You are now level 44! +1SP] "Please stay and let us treat you!" one of the men protested "You saved our home!" "There is another train tomorrow morning!" the kid they'd met at the railway-station added eagerly The siblings paused a bit, unsure, but Ana loud whisper to Ari of "Do you think they have cookies?" settled it "It's completely unfair." Ed moaned as he dragged himself in the train "I saw you drink at least three times what I did! And you're right as rain!" "I have a fast metabolism?" his sister asked rather than stated Al who was tired but still in a far better state than the eldest, snorted "It's more like you drink beer just like water! And Halling's face when he learned your age was hilarious!" She crossed her arms under her budding chest "I don't see why it's alright for you to drink beer, but as soon as he learned I was thirteen and not fourteen, suddenly that was the end of the world!" "Well there has to be some kind of limit somewhere." Al shrugged "And he got over it pretty quick anyway." "Maybe because she was destroying one of the miners in a drinking contest?" Ed suggested while dropping on a banquet and closing his eyes, hiding from the sun with his arm "Now shut up, I need some sleep!" And with that, he was soon snoring away, Anastasia giggling at his behavior before begging Alphonse for some more 'games with funny shapes'. Yes, she was learning the basis of drawing up alchemy circle without really realizing it. Smiling indulgently at the little girl, as her brother settled on giving her the lessons demanded in a low voice, she went back to her trusty notebook. Several hours later, as the train was making a long stop at New Optain, she got off to find lunch for them – and noticed that there seemed to be quite a few military around the station. Wondering what it was about – she soon had her answer as while trailing back to her car, she noticed that another car seemed to be booked. Probably some kind of high grade man traveling then. Maybe even one of those guys that regularly came to East City to play the power games against Roy and fail miserably... A few hours within the ride, Ariana frowned, then said "There's something going on. I can feel a lot of fear and panic propagating through the train." "Another robbery?" a dismayed Al asked "Well let's try to avoid waking Ed up. Last time was bad enough." Her brother nodded vigorously – on of the thief had called Ed a midget. It hadn't gone well, and had to be restrained before he did too much damage to the man. After that, the man had developed a phobia of blonds... "So... I'll scout ahead and take care of it if possible, you protect Ana?" "I'll keep the vocal chat open, call if you need and keep me updated." "Of course. Come on Padfoot, let's kick some robber's ass!" An enthusiastic bark later, they were gone. Ariana only had to walk up a few cars to find the source – or at least part of it – of the problem. Two guys, weapon in hands, holding up the car hostage. "So, Padfoot," she whispered, "which one do you want?" The black dog pointed his muzzle toward the nearest – and smallest – bandit, making his mistress roll her eyes "Lazy bum." The next second, dog and girl where jumping into the fray, Ariana taking the occasion to test her new Crimson Edge by making her opponent's firearm disintegrate in his hands before distracting him with a small scale explosion and immobilizing him by making the car's floor trap his feet. Then she turned toward the other man – Padfoot had taken advantage of his Grimm ability to provoke fear in people to get rid of the man's weapon before biting a strategical point. Even as a girl, Ari couldn't help but feel for the incapacitated man... "So," she asked the one that could still talk "What's going on?" What was going on, it turned out, was a hostage situation – because the agitation at the station earlier was because general Halcrow from New Optain was on board. "So that's what is going on. Apparently there's another ten idiots on board." "Alright, I'll wake brother up then. Better be safe than sorry." "Let's meet up at the front then." With that, Ariana grabbed Padfoot, the dog gripping on her shoulder to free her hands, and she got to the roof, where she immediately used her black flames to progress toward the front of the train – no need to show off this ability to anyone when she could avoid it after all... Ed was in an awful mood at having been waken up – and the hijackers paid the price of it, while Ariana took care of the leader of the group – a guy with a gun automail. She wrinkled he nose at it – really, it was so tacky! And Winry's work was far better! All in all, the hijacking situation didn't last more than half an hour, and Roy and the team were waiting for them at the station, ready to take the idiots in custody. "Welcome back, FullMetal, EarthBreaker, WindBlade, and good job." "Tch, We're back, colonel bastard. Try to give us a more interesting mission next!" Ed grumbled "So, anything interesting?" Roy asked Ariana, ignoring her brother's usual complaining "I got to test my new Crimson Edge!" "Thus the blood." Al completed, pointing at the hijacking attempt leader, who was now lacking his left leg and part of his automail And had apparently gotten free of the ropes that were binding him. Not deigning giving the roaring man that was rushing toward them a second glance, Roy sent an explosion his way "That's good. Will you be up for a sparring session later?" the way the girl's eyes lit up was enough of an answer "Sparring? Really?" Ed protested "How can you be so... awake after yesterday?" "Oh?" "Turns out sister holds out her liquor better than brother. Better than most people, really..." Al explained "The miners were really thankful for our inspection..." "You do realize the legal age to start drinking is fourteen?" Riza wondered at that "Isn't it more like a guideline?" Ariana asked with an innocent look on her face The lieutenant sighed, deciding it wasn't worth it to argue. Now that she knew both Roy and Ari occupation in their previous life, lots of their attitude made much more sense than before... The following weeks, the Elric spent in East City, the four of them having nearly moved in at the colonel's place and Riza a frequent visitor. A lot of time was spent sparing and training, Ariana and Roy spending hours laying the foundation of the array that would save the girl – and while doing this, the young alchemist had also perfected the simpler array that would allow the Elric siblings to really adopt Anastasia. As such, a few weeks after coming back from Youswell, the four siblings were assembled in the house's basement in front of a large blood array. Even though they were smiling at their youngest, the three elder siblings were tense – they weren't trying to bring someone back, and using Ari's Blood Art rather than only Earth Alchemy, yet it still was eerily reminiscent of that fateful day, years ago. As the array activated, they relaxed, feeling the power rushing around them, similar but different to what had happened all these years ago in that this time, they weren't trying to get more than what they were paying for thanks to the Blood Art imbued circle. In the center of the circle, Ana was taken by the power, her appearance changing minutely – her face getting sharper, hair and eyes shifting to the same unique gold as the three Elric siblings. [Hidden Quest Complete! Family means no on get left behind! Nina Tucker has been saved thanks to your efforts, and now Anastasia Elric is a part of your family Reward:+100XP, Anastasia Elric added to Chaos Game] In the party that followed Ana's official adoption into the family, they nearly overlooked the details entailed in the reward – that is until the little girl, having gained a considerable intelligence boost by gaining the Von Hohenheim Inheritance perk started to explored the game menus by herself... Alphonse had decided that since he already was the one that took care of the little girl schooling, he would also explain Chaos Game to her – and the others happily let him do as he wanted, used by now at the teens authoritative ways when it came to learning... The little girl had easily understood that her new power wasn't something to speak about with anyone, just like her chimera attribute, and while she didn't need Chaos' Game, she still was having a lot of fun with it, regularly gaining small secondary quest by helping around East headquarter while her siblings worked - and soon, the youngest Elric was a known figure around the military districts, adored by the military, none the wiser about her special abilities... ¤.¤.¤ "You look worried?" Ari let her eyes wonder from the office's window toward the man she loved "There's a homunculus in the city. And I wasn't sure at first, but it looks like it's following us around." The colonel frowned – this wasn't good, he had been ready to sent them to a nearby town were rumors of miraculous healing were circulating. But leading a homunculus to such a town was anything but a good idea... "Do you have someone else you could send to investigate the rumor that would understand the need for discretion?" Ariana asked after he voiced his thoughts A moment of reflexion – a frown, then a sigh. "There is someone." the colonel reluctantly admitted When she heard whom he had in mind, the blond girl couldn't help but sigh too – for the major Armstrong was reliable, and trustworthy, but his rumbustious character also made it a chore to speak with him for too long... And so, while the Elric siblings were sent to Central City for a fallacious reason, the Strong Arm Alchemist was taking a train in the opposite direction to investigate the rumor unearthed by the colonel. "So?" Ed asked as they boarded their own train "Still following us." Ariana nodded "You know," Al remarked "I think I'm starting to get a hang of the alkahestry technique to feel people around... And I think I may be feeling the homunculus too with it..." "Well," Ed grimaced "I guess it means more studying Water Alchemy then..." of the three of them, Ed was the one that had the most difficulties with Alchemy not based on Earth, while Al was getting better and better with Water Alchemy, having even surpassed Ari in it They had been met in Central City by Maes and the other two member of the Hughes family, the little Elicia ever so happy to see her godmother again, and soon making fast friend with Ana after a small bout of initial shyness... As for Maes, the man had been just as loud as they had expected when he saw their newest sibling for the first time. Since they had to be seen doing something in Central to justify their trip, they decided to raid the National Central Library – and for the following days, they did just that, Ana staying at the Hughes to play with Elicia while they lost themselves in books. Just as they had hoped, the presence that had been following them around for a few days eventually decided that they really weren't doing anything more than furthering their alchemy research, and left them alone. The Central headquarter had also decided to assign them an escort – that was reduced from six to two men with the argument that the three of them were always together. While a bit annoying, they had eventually accepted the escort if only to take advantage of the car that came with it – and sergeant Bross and Second Lieutenant Ross were an amiable pair that often were in awe of the siblings knowledge, and relations. ¤.¤.¤ Then, Roy used Chaos' Game message system to inform them about what major Armstrong had found near Rosembool – and it had been nearly as bad as they'd feared. There had indeed been a philosopher stone in the town he'd been sent to investigate – in the hands of a man he, and the military, had thought dead. Hiding under the identity of a small town doctor, the former State Alchemist and doctor had taken advantage of the end of the Ishval conflict's chaos to spread rumors about his death and flee the military. And the reason for his escape was grim yet predictable – the military had used the Ishval war to experiment around with the philosopher stone. Disgusted by what he had to do for the military, and the knowledge he had, he eventually fled, keeping only one small philosopher stone from his last experiment. Alerted thanks to the major that he was in danger of being found – after all, if they had found him thanks to the rumors, other could – doctor Marcoh made a small trip to East City before leaving behind the town that had become his home, not wanting to put them at risk. One thing he'd eventually told to Roy after learning that they already knew what was the main ingredient for the stone, was that he'd hidden his research in National Central Library First Branch. [Life Quest! Crimson beyond flowing blood! Goal: find Dr Marcoh's notes before they fell in bad hands Bonus Goal: find a new assistant for the Investigation Department Reward: +100XP per goal, unlocks Challenge System upon completion Bonus Reward:+150XP per goal, unlocks Bookworm (+5 to all knowledge and language) perk upon completion] The siblings, that had thought that finding Marcoh, and telling him to hide, had been nothing more than a secondary goal, were rethinking this when the quest appeared – apparently, their work in Central wasn't done. And so, they went back to the library. The first thing that was apparent when they entered the First Branch was that the librarian in charge wasn't very good at her job – they found the young, short haired woman with glasses nearly buried under piles upon piles of books. "I'm sorry..." she sighed as they helped her "I tend to forget that I'm paid to classify the books, not read them! But I need the money of the job to pay for my mother's hospital bill!" The siblings laughed at the pitiful admission, but empathized with her family problems, then asked directions toward what they were looking for. "Oh! I remember those books!" the woman enthusiastically nodded, shifting through the piles of books to the ones needed "It really like the mushrooms recipe on page 73 of the third volume! But... what need would alchemists have with cooking recipes?" "Cooking recipes?" Second Lieutenant Ross repeated, just as intrigued as the librarian "Personal curiosity," Ariana with a smile answered "I'm not half-bad at cooking, and even alchemists need some hobby to get their head out of the numbers!" "You mean you and your cooking are a godsend!" corrected a jovial voice as Maes Hughes entered the library "It's so good to see you, kids!" "You saw us this morning at breakfast, Maes." pointed out Ari, the girl struggling a bit to get out of the man's usual bear-hug "This was hours ago!" then mood brusquely changing "And I've been buried in work ever since! There are way to much files to check in this library, and I'm but a man!" "With a whole team behind you..." grumbled Ed "What I need is an assistant! Someone with a good memory and not afraid of spending hours buried in books!" ¤.¤.¤ The three siblings shared a glance – then Alphonse, who was behind the librarian, pushed her toward the lieutenant "Here you go! One assistant, one!" he laughed "Wha..." "She's got a good memory, and she loves reading!" Ariana nodded "Why don't you give it a try?" "The pay is good!" Maes added enthusiastically – and the siblings just knew he was already thinking about how much more work he could avoid with an assistant As for the librarian – she was still surprised, but apparently mentioning a god pay had been all that she needed. And soon, Maes was leaving, new assistant in tow, while they were taking the books with them, deciding to go back to the Hughes to work in a cosy environment rather than a bland library... [Goal complete! +100XP Goal update: find and investigate the Red Stone Laboratory Bonus goal complete! +150XP Bonus goal update: translate Dr Marcoh's research] [Level up! You are now level 46! +5CP, +2SP] "This seems... too easy..." muttered Ed "I don't like it." "It is easy only because we already know what is the Stone." contradicted Ariana, opening a map of the city "Because of that it's easy to see that there's only one lab that could have an easy access to... the raw material needed..." "The fifth laboratory," nodded Al, joining her by the map "Near enough the military prison that death-row inmates could have easily been taken from one place to the other discretely..." "Right now, the laboratory is supposed to be empty, and access is restricted because the danger of the building collapsing..." continued Ed, "How convenient." The siblings shared a glance - it looked like they knew what was their next step. ¤.¤.¤ Riza knew Roy well – very well. So of course, she had immediately picked upon the attitude change of the man when he was found in a... compromising position with Ariana. Because Roy had told her that he didn't intend to move upon his intentions before the girl was fifteen, and even if his concept of honor was debatable, he never lied to her. But something had clearly changed, and so, questions eating at her mind, she eventually find a pretext to end work early and immediately headed toward his home, intent on having her answers. And some answers it were! Yet, as unbelievable as it seemed, it somehow made sense. So her life had changed, because now Roy openly called her sister when among friend – or rather, sorella – and her life had been turned into a dangerous and chaotic game. She didn't mind – because, in spite of his new memories, Roy was still Roy. Insufferable, arrogant, ambitious – and now more than ever she believed in his ability to make his goals come true. So yes, he may have gained frustrating skills with firearms, that until then had been her domain, and seem to disregard even more than before the administration and the laws, but he was still the same man. It was quite amusing to see how he was even more reluctant than before to sent the Elric away – yet at the same time, he now knew even better the value they had on the field. So while the now four golden-haired siblings were heading toward Central City, and they were waiting on Armstrong's report, they were working in East City, the damn man knowing even better than before how to act in front of people, and who to persuade – threaten – to further their goal. Scar, killing State Alchemists left and right, had opened a few positions around the country for an ambitious man. One way or another, the colonel Mustang and his team would be the ones to be sent to Central City when the higher ups made their decision. "So, what did we found?" Riza startled out of her thoughts, eyes on the nearby destruction scene. A big fight – another one had been fought there, in was clear. But most importantly, a bloody garment. Scar's coat. IX: 1914 Infiltrating the Fifth Laboratory wasn't something that would be done in a day – acting rashly in the heart of the city where the enemy laid was stupid.So the Elric siblings took their time, using it to decipher doctor Marcoh's notes during the day, and sniffing around at night. The first thing that soon became evident was that Central City was the home of several homunculi. The first, of course, was Fuhrer Bradley himself – then the one that had been following them until recently, that had left, then came back to the city, and two more.Fortunately, they didn't seem to be under too much scrutiny from the homunculi – on the other hand, one of the unknown homunculi seemed to be roaming around Central City without any pattern.Planning around that one wouldn't be easy. In the end, nearly three more weeks went by – in that time, they did manage to break the code that Marcoh had used to encrypt his journals. And while they had already known that the Philosopher Stone's main ingredient was humans, and had seen the ruins of Xerxes, somehow, reading the personal notes of a man that was just another State Alchemist on the topic was different. It made things more tangible, reminded them that beyond the Promised Day set for Spring 1915 there had already been life sacrificed to the Red Stones recently.This wasn't just about avoiding History repeating itself – it was about stopping all the exactions going on right now around the country. During those three weeks, they had also had a bit of a fright – when the news came that heavy bloodshed had happened in Reole, Sheska, Maes' new assistant, had nearly started to put the ugly puzzle together, the intelligent woman and her eidetic memory picking up on the pattern of the recent revolts on the map...Thankfully, Maes had been the one to catch her while she was researching this – and while she hadn't been brought in completely, she had been told enough to understand that it was a dangerous topic to research. Still, after weeks of preparation, they were ready. Ari had taken out one of the soul-bound items that had followed her from her previous life, and Leon had been put to work and the result of his work sent via Chaos' Game message system. Alpha was back, while Ed had been given the Fox mask and Al the Cat one.While it may have seemed idiotic to use masks representing the pets they were well known to have to hide their identity, their intention was precisely to point out that these choice were far to evident and thus could only be the work of someone trying to involve them in something they didn't know anything about. Of course, their best bet was not to be seen, but who knew what was waiting for them in the Fifth Laboratory? When it came to their clothing, they had left their usual red coats in their Inventory, opting for dark and neutral outfits, and a simple alchemical manipulation temporarily darkened their hair and eyes – with Ari simply using her Metamorph skill to get back to her more usual back hair and green eyes. Completely bypassing the guard posted at the main entrance – which alone would have made them suspect foul play if they hadn't already know that what had happened in the laboratory – they easily scaled the high wall that enclosed the empty building.Except that, to Ari's soul sense, it clearly wasn't empty. She shuddered "There are souls here... souls without bodies..."she shared, the nearby unnatural presence glaringly obvious among the continuous flux of information brought to her sense by her Soul Art and Blood ArtHer siblings shared a glance while she made them hurry into the building thought a ventilation duct. A few seconds later, the sound of rustling metal echoed, and Al, the nearest to the outside, blanched. "They are... They are what I nearly became." he whispered, quickly putting what he was seeing, and what his sister had said together"Let's see what's more there's to this house of horrors." muttered Ed darkly, urging his sister forward With a nod she began to crawl again, and soon, they were dropping from the duct into the run down building, cautiously exploring it while Ari kept her senses sharp, looking out for the bodiless souls that apparently were guarding the building. Apart from the one outside, she could feel a couple more deeper in the building "We should check the basement." she suggested "If there's someone there, that must mean there's something to guard."A couple of silently agreeing nods, and they were off. ¤.¤.¤ If the building had truly looked derelict above ground, it was a different story once they found their way underground. They shared a look before opening the door to a large room, visibly an empty alchemy lab with a circle drawn on the ground and a large mural on the farthest wall, which the three alchemy geniuses swiftly identified as an improved, small-scale circle to create a Philosopher Stone – and what probably were the schematic to the array that was set to destroy their country.In the few seconds it took them to analyze all this, a familiar notification flashed... [Goal complete! +100XPGoal update: survive the cleaning teamBonus goal complete! +150XPBonus goal update: defeat the lab's special guards (0/3)][Level up! You are now level 48!+2SP] The teens frowned at the ominous goal, and turned there attention to the large metal armor that was standing in the middle of the empty lab. They could hear the surprise in the voice that came out of it "You managed to get past Number 66?""If you're talking about your other metal chum outside, he didn't even saw us." shrugged Ed"Yet you aren't even trying to hide right now." the armor idly noted "No matter, I'll deal with you." "By all means, please do try." even if Alpha's mask was hiding her features, the bloodthirsty smile was heard in her words, blade lightly held in her fingerThe other's only answer was to rush toward her, katana in hand and visibly knowing how to use it. Ed and Al were moving to join the fight when their sister shouted "The one that was outside is coming this way. And he's not alone!" and with that affirmation, her movements were suddenly a lot more hostile, the armor's head flying away from the body in one precise strike, the body cut in two by a throwing knife glowing with an alchemy circle – her Crimson Edge's non-living variant [Bonus goal update: defeat the lab's special guards (2/3)] As for Al, he'd turned toward the door, and as such jumped toward the new figure running toward them in a metallic rattle, barely letting the other open his mouth before using an alchemy circle to pin his legs to the ground, much the empty armor loud protests. [Bonus goal update: defeat the lab's special guards (3/3)] Neither brothers bothered to listen to the armor they'd just defeated, moving to flank their sister who was turned toward the door they'd just entered through – and soon, Al too could feel the one that had her so tense.An homunculus, the one that had been following them in East City and to Central City to be precise."My, my, visitors." a smooth, womanly voice stated "How unexpected." The silhouette of a tall, beautiful woman with lush, dark hair cascading in her back, wearing a long, skin-tight black dress and arm-length gloves of the same shade, stepped out of the hallway. What really was telling, however, was the Ouroboros tattoo proudly displayed between her breast – the same symbol Feng had told them to be the homunculi trade-mark, and he himself no longer sported. Her smile was cold as she stated "You really shouldn't be sniffing around here."There was no tell-tale sign before her hand was thrown toward them, nails growing into long and sharp spears – and only the three's wariness helped them to dodge, each in one direction."How bothersome." the homonculus sighed "What good are you if you can't manage to do your work and keep intruders out?" she harshly added, her nail extending toward the discarded helmet and piercing thought the exposed blood seal "You're lucky I was passing by!" "Brother! No! We can still be of use!" was the desperate cry coming from the partially deconstructed armorThe woman's nails were aiming toward it – but a blade stopped her, and she jumped back, evading the attack coming toward her "Stealing their body wasn't enough?" Alpha's icy voice echoed in the large, nearly empty lab"Are you pitying them?" a laugh "Do you even know what they are?""Murderers' souls shoved into a metal body." she shrugged "But then again you aren't even human, so you can't really talk can you?" The homunculus' eyes widened, surprised at the unknown intruders' knowledge, and her next attack was even faster – visibly having decreed that they knew far too much to be allowed to leave alive. Of course, this wasn't anything they hadn't expected – from the start they had known that if they seen here they would have to fight for their life.No, what truly was on the three siblings mind was the recent goal update – the expression "Cleaning Team" implied at least two enemies, and as such it was in their best interest to deal with the homunculus in front of them quickly. Which of course, was easier said than done. ¤.¤.¤ For now, they had fought while restraining themselves – alchemists with the ability to perform circle-less transmutations weren't all that ordinary, and Ari's one-handed alchemy was, to the Father's knowledge, unique. Using either would make the precaution they had taken to hide their identity as good as useless.But their opponent was far more skilled than her risqué dress and sophisticated guise had hinted at. Fortunately, they had thought about that problem while planning their incursion in the Fifth Laboratory and as such, each of them had prepared a few weapon already engraved with alchemy array – each using a weapon they were good at, but that wasn't associated with them. Al had taken a liking to the dao, the short sword used in Xing, and combined with the use of water alchemy and his face hidden, should easily pass for a Xingese; Ed made a collection of throwing daggers of all sizes, each with its own personalized alchemy circle of various effects; and finally Ari took a leaf out of her previous life, and made herself a kyoketsu-shoge under the bemused eyes of her brothers then swiftly proceeded to engrave several fire arrays on the weapon, discretely enhanced by air alchemy, making it quite deadly. As such, while they weren't fighting at their best, the three of them were prepared – and knew that if necessary, they could switch to their usual fighting method. Staying alive was more important than protecting their anonymity in the end. Ed bit a curse as he was a bit too slow, the dangerous woman's nails biting in his side – forcing himself to disregard the pain for now, he pushed himself out of her way, Al's sword surprising her and leaving a deep gash into her shoulder.A gash that was closing right under their eyes.And that was exactly the problem – while, being three against her, they did manage to hit her often enough, the homunculus merely used the souls trapped within her to heal herself right away. Killing an immortal enemy wasn't all that easy. Ariana frowned. The goddess in training knew that killing the homunculus in front of them would be simple enough, were she to use her holy powers – but those powers had left her exhausted each time she had used them in this world up to now, and she couldn't afford to be taken out of this fight when they didn't know how many enemies would come at them after this one.This left one other solution – cut the homonculus from its life source. Pinpointing the red stone's presence in her body was easy enough, the cries of the imprisoned souls a clear marker, and the Father hadn't been very original, simply placing it where the heart would have been had the beautiful woman been human. Sharing her plan on the voice chat between to strike, and her brothers adding their own contribution, they were soon regrouping, and changing their strategy. Al and Ed attacked together, completely focusing on the offensive while the chain of their sister's weapon deflected the woman's nails when needed, soon deluding her into focusing more on the two brothers than the younger girl in the back, letting her the time to craft the weapon she needed.The claw was rudimentary, and would only last for one good strike, but this was all she needed. Feeling a new, ominous presence approaching, she informed her brothers, and on a silent signal, the boys violently jumped away from the latest attack coming toward them rather than ignoring it – and instead of parrying the attack for them, Ari dashed between them, claw burrowing in the soft flesh and finding the price it was looking for. By now, the woman eyes were betraying her fear as she could feel the core of her life slipping out of her body, and her nails were violently attacking the opponent she had previously underestimated – but Ari didn't care about the piercing nails that were cutting her back open, entirely focused on the small, egg-like, blood red stone in her claws, then her fingers. With one last unhesitating move, she wrenched it out of its living shrine. ¤.¤.¤ The beautiful woman collapsed to the ground, body fading into dust, as a new voice screamed in agony "You killed Lust! You bastards!"Storing the Red Stone that had been the heart of the newly named Lust away, Ari, Ed and Al turned toward the latest arrival.Looking like a teenage, with an androgynous face and willowy body clad in a skin-thigh short and tank-top, long, spiky wild hair descending to his waist, his face was contorted with fury as he rushed toward the one that had just killed on of his siblings. Ed and Al deflected the attack, as Ari jumped back. Between Ari's heavy blood-loss, and her siblings state of weariness, this fight wouldn't be easy. The girl didn't let this realization depress her – after all, this was exactly for this kind of dangerous situation that her Past Life Aura was useful.With a thought, the power swirled around her, green eyes glowing eerily in the bare room as she assessed the new enemy in front of them. The countless souls screaming inside his body, nearly saturating her Soul Art, clearly marked him as a homunculus, but it was her Blood Art informations that were more interesting. "He's a shape-shifter," she calmly informed her siblings, infuriating even more the already incensed homonculus, who had momentarily stopped attacking, taken aback by the sudden rush of unearthly power around her"You know way too much, girly! You won't get out of here alive!""And yet, we're alive, and your sister isn't." Ed taunted, deciding to stroke the other's temper even moreAfter all, an angry enemy was liable to do more mistakes than a calm one – that, and he always found it satisfying to get on peoples nerves. As predicted, the other's temper erupted "That was only luck, you fucking human!" he howled, throwing his arm toward the eldest Elric sibling – an arm that had grown into a sharp edged tentacle, that the teenager barely avoided, thanks to his sister's previous warningAs the fight took off again, the siblings soon remarked than, on top of the shape-shifting Ari had warned them about, his human body wasn't, contrary to Lust's form, behaving like one.The sharp blades of their weapons were having trouble to bite through the seemingly normal skin, each of his blow had much more strength behind it than it should... Ari frowned.Even with her powers multiplied as they were through her Past Life Aura, this homunculus was holding his own well against them. Oh, sure enough, with time, they would be the one to come on top – but that was just the problem. They didn't have time. Her back was still bleeding out, weakening her more by the minute, and her brothers, while less injured, hadn't escaped whole from the previous homunculus either. They had to end this fight now – or at least, injure the other enough that they could escape while it regenerated. "I'm going to use my powers." she announced on the voice chat, not needing to specify which of her gifts she was talking about"Are you mad?" protested Ed hotly"We can't afford to have this fight last much longer." she pointed out "Beside, with the homunculus fighting back like he is, I can't just cut the link with the Stone just like that," she admitted "So I'm going to settle for just part of the souls." and though she hated it, it was the only solution she had right now"What do we need to do?" Al asked, Ed's silence proof enough that he understood that it was their best bet"keep him from interrupting me." she simply said With a resolute nod, both boys jumped toward the non-human, knowing that the fight would be much more difficult with only the two of them – and behind them, the power flow around their sister changed, reminding them once more of the unnerving feeling of being in front of the Gate of Truth – a feeling that their enemy probably felt too, as his head brutally turned toward her and he tried to jump toward her. The minutes that followed were tensed, the other having understood that whatever the girl was doing, it couldn't be good for him, was continuously trying to get to her, her brothers tiring more and more as they relentlessly protected her. And suddenly, the power swirling around her surged toward the homunculus, making him jumped back – or rather try to. The will of the androgynous non-human and the goddess in training clashed, the former's human appearance melting into that of a gigantic eight-legged chimera with a dog head and a lizard body, human faces visible trough it skin and crying for help.Ed and Al shuddered in horror at the sigh but pressed on their advantage, attacking the monstrous beast that was kept immobile trough their sister's will. And suddenly, the human faces visible on the monster's body seemed to try and escape him, slowly condensing into a baleful and familiar item. "No!"this time, fear was mixed with rage in the homunculus' voice as he realized that his life source was being stolen awayWith one last effort, he managed to break through her spell, lunging toward Ari – Ed was sent flying into the nearest wall, blood smearing his face and automail bend at an impossible angle, Al's weapon was destroyed with barely a glint of sharp claws, that teared through dao and automail alike without a care. But even thought she was visibly exhausted, Ariana was still standing in a storm of power, and with a wave of unleashed energy, the homunculus was sent stumbling back, the holy powers already trying to steal more of its life source. Understanding that, weakened as he was, he wasn't sure to be the one getting out alive from this confrontation, survival instinct finally won over anger, and the non-human fled the laboratory, leaving a blood-trail that proved he'd came close from dying for a supposed immortal. [Life Quest complete!+100XPReward: Challenge System unlockedBonus Quest complete!+150XPBonus reward: Bookworm (+5 to all knowledge and language) Perk unlockedHidden Goal Complete! Roses are RedDefeat LustReward:+200XP, Homunculus Lust added to Boss List] [Level up! You are now level 50!+2SP, +2CP, +1PP][Perk available:- Smooth Talker: double rate of learning Communication and Awareness Skills- Fighter's Mind: double rate of learning Survival and Ground Skills-Spirit's of the Pack (2/3) Rashaba's gift: +3 Strength (unlocks Spirit's of the Pack (3/3) Chinook's gift)] [System Log: Specialty Available! You are now eligible to select a specialty. Note that each specialty has a specific skill requirement to choose it, and will offer specific bonus and skill set that will add itself to your current class bonuses.You will not be able to level up above level 50 as long as you haven't selected and gained your Specialty.] Dismissing the onslaught of notifications for later Ari turned toward her brothers. "Lets clean this place of traces of our presence and get out." Ed tiredly mumbledThe others didn't even bothered to answer back, merely getting to work. Al's destroyed automail was carefully recovered, the circle on the ground destroyed, as was the mural – but it also made them stumble upon a realization."You know, last time everything was done out in the open..." Al started, an idea visibly shaping itself in his mind as he was speaking "But for now we haven't been able to find a trace about the array being carved in our country..." he looked around him "What if it just was under our eyes... literally...""The fucker is digging his mad-man array!" Ed blurted, suddenly understanding what his younger brother was saying"But how is he doing it without being discovered?" Al wondered - before setting the question aside for latter, focusing on his current task Soon after, they were gone, Ari's black Flame finally advanced enough that she could pop them directly into the Hughes' home. "That," shuddered Al "was really strange. And cold.""Let's sleep." Ari groaned, barely standing on her feet now that they were back into safety and far too used to the feeling of traveling through her Night Flames to find it strange anymore"Not just yet." Ed contradicted, provoking a second groan "Those wounds have to be cleaned, and dressed.""I know." she admitted with a sigh, looking longingly toward her bed "Stop making sense, brother, you're not supposed to." she added, pouting"Hey!" With that, they stumbled into the hall, deciding that bathing and cleaning their wound together would be quicker – only to be interrupted by a gasp "What the hell happened!" Maes shout-whispered "You need a doctor right now!""Of course not." Ari contradicted "It would only risk attracting the attention of people we don't want to know we got hurt tonight." a sigh, seeing the man wouldn't be detracted that easily "Let us clean up and we'll talk okay?" With that, he relented – and nearly an hour later, when he saw the kids again, wounds bandaged and looking to be awake only by shear force of will, he sighed and let them go to sleep, simply saying he would ask his friend doctor Knox to check on Ari on the next day, as she had a nasty cold.The excuse should be good enough as long as no one looked too closely... It was nearly midday the next day when they woke up, to a surprising sight."I really can't let you out of my sight can I, bambina?""Get out of our room, colonel bastard! Stop stalking my sister!" Ed, still half-asleep ,immediately - and automatically - shouted"What are you doing here?" Ari wondered, smiling at her other half A smirk."Well there was an opening for a position in Central City, what with Scar killing off alchemists left and right, so of course they appointed the best.""Arrogant bastard." Ed mumbled, still too tired for the usual insult to sound heartfelt As for Roy, he was ignoring him, shrugging the cover off the bed where they'd fallen asleep in a puppy-pile "Let me see it." he demandedThe move and order were so familiar that Ari had already taken off her bandages and was leaning on her stomach, leaving access to her worst wound to her husband, when she realized "You've...""I'm a main player of Chaos' Game too, bambina. Of course I've got a Past Life Perk.""And you kept your Sun Flames." "They aren't as powerful as they were, of course, just as your Night Flames aren't, but they still give my health and wounds regeneration a boost, and allow me to heal people."Ed's loud protests about his sister's modesty died down as the older alchemist's hands came alight with bright, yellow flames under which Ari's wounds started to heal fast enough that it was visible to the naked eye.After a few minutes, he stopped, a small frown on his face "That's the best I can do for now, my skill isn't advanced enough to compare to what my Flames formerly were." Ari nodded, sitting up with an appreciative smile "Still much better than earlier." her face turned grave "There's one thing I want to take care as soon as possible now that I can at least move better."With a thought and a wrist movement, two blood red stone were called out of her Inventory. "Let's get rid of this, Death has been waiting for these souls, and the poor things have been suffering for far too long." No one protested, even if they'd have preferred for the girl to be healthier before doing her godly duty. With but a thought, a red alchemy circle came alight under her feet and her bedroom was replaced by the white emptiness and the large archway of the Gate. "Back again little Shadow?" the grinning god asked "You've worked well, I didn't expect you to give back those souls...""You do realize that I am a god of death, even if I'm not Death himself." Ari remarked, a bit vexed "Ah, but you're still so mortal in the way you think and live, I wondered if you really did understand your duties..." a grumble "I know some of my siblings clearly didn't when they came into their powers! I mean, Lore spent several centuries doing nothing but reading before she started to work!" a shrug "Well clearly I was mistaken, I'm not all-knowing when it comes to things outside of my realm." he admitted, surprising the younger goddess She was starting to wonder if there wasn't more to Truth refusal to accept help from his siblings than Knowledge had said – but decided that investigating this would wait until after the country she lived in wasn't in danger of being used as sacrifice by a mad entity. "Anyway, you can't get out of here without something, the exchange has to be met." stated the other god, not really surprising her – it wasn't the first time she met him after all "So, what do you want? Your arm back?"She thought about it a bit, then shook her head in negation "Explaining how I got it back would be too bothersome." she said "And since I've got my hand-fastening mark back, I don't really care. Beside, it's not like I won't have it back in my next life.""Well, some kind of knowledge then? Or a physical gift?" Ari had to repress a snort when she imagined the reaction of her siblings if they were present for this bargaining. As for Chaos' Game, it suddenly came alive with a notification, Truth's proposition having been interpreted by it... [Truth's Exchange:perk available:- Blood Ritualist:+5 to all Mystic skills, +10 Blood Affinity- Alpha's calling: all your senses are as sharp as that of a canine Youkai, you gain claws and fangs- Philosopher's daughter:+5 to all Alchemy skills, +5 Blood Affinity- Holy resilience: you may look human, you aren't one anymore, making you much harder to get rid of, + 5 Endurance] After a moment of hesitation, the choice was clear –Blood Ritualist it was. If there was any chance of making the ritual Roy and her were crafting easier, she'd take it.It may be selfish, but this time, she hoped to grow old by her husband side, and not wake up to a new world before a long, long time... ¤.¤.¤ "Well, that's done with then." nodded Truth approvingly "Exchange done. And who knows, if you manage to finish the job I may whip up some kind of price that'll make it worth your while!"And with that, the whiteness faded back into her room in the Hughes household, and a notification popped in front of her eyes. [Challenge LV 100! The Lost SoulsGoal: Free all of the Xerxesians soulReward:+1000XP, one soul-bound token, one Alternate Life Perk to be chosen] note that this challenge can be done in several way : battle is not a necessity] Ari's eyes widened as she read the challenge – it wouldn't be easy, but it wasn't anything she hadn't planned on doing. And the reward wasn't anything to sneer at!After a brief summary of her meeting with their world's strange reigning god, they focused back to more down to earth problems "Getting a leave to get both our automail repaired right now would be bad," was saying Ed "It would be as good at pulling up a 'here we are' sign for that Father bastard.""True. But my arm's completely busted, and yours is one bad move away from falling apart..." pointed out Al with a frown "Why don't we meet Winry somewhere else, then?" suggested Ariana "She was saying that she wanted to go to Rush City to find a mentor, granny's hit the limit of what she can teach her. We can send her a message telling her to meet us here, then we'll all go with her on our way to teacher's place...""If you can manage to hide your injuries and failing automail that long, it would work." nodded Roy "We'll, we've been spending quite a lot of time doing research, so if we're seen continuing to do that it should be a good enough cover." Ed thought out loud "Just be seen a few moments looking for books, then back here to study them like we've done should be manageable..."With that, their plan was set, and Winry informed – their childhood friend would be there under a week, which they spent pretending to be healthy. The colonel used his flames on all three regularly to speed up their recovery, and even made them go through a few 'light sessions' of training despite two of the three's missing an arm.Ana seemed to understand the need for secrecy easily enough, helped by her own background of being a chimera, and her flourishing intelligence as the youngest of the Elric, and even tried to keep up with them while training.While the little girl wasn't on par with them, she still was taught a few fighting moves, and Al took advantage of their free time to further her schooling not only on the normal topics but also on all four types of alchemy – and it soon became apparent that their youngest sibling would one day be a master of fire alchemy, much to Ed's hilarity and Roy's bemusement... It was only two days after they came back from the Fifth Laboratory that Ari remembered her unacknowledged notifications and went back to her Statistic Window to choose a Specialty and a Perk.After quickly choosing the Spirit of the Pack's second perk, she took a look at the Specialties – there we only four, with much higher skill requirement than the Classes that were available at level 25; but the choice was easy enough. She wasn't powerful enough in a fight, particularly as soon as she was restricted in her alchemy, the fight against the homunculi had proved that. As such, as familiar sounding specialty was soon chosen... [Assassin Specialty chosen!(requirement: any fighting skill over 75, any survival skill over 50, any awareness skill over 25)You will now gain +2 Intelligence and +1 Agility each 5 levelClass Perk available:- Shadow Path:+10 to Darkness Affinity, +10 to long range fighting, +10 to throwing skill, unlocks Darker than the Abyss passive Ability (critical attacks deals 25% more damage) and ShadowStrike(1/10) Ability (all damage dealt when undetected deal 5% more damage)- Blood Path: +10 to Blood Affinity, +10 to close range fighting, +10 to blade skill, unlocks Razor Sharp passive Ability (all attacks deals 10% more damage) and Blood Rage(1/10) Ability (each time your health drop by 10%, your damage rise by 1%) unspent: 1] Some more thinking, and Ariana had taken the Blood Path. Roy, who was the only of their small group of gamers, to be above level 50, was without surprise of the Artificer Class and Assassin Specialty too, even if his Class Perk was the Fire Alchemy one – and his Specialty one the Shadow one; yet again, no surprise there. The couple spent as much time together as they could during the week they waited for Winry, not paying any attention to Ed's token protests, and were making good progress on crafting the ritual that would save Ariana. Finally, a week after the events that transpired at the Fifth Laboratory, Winry arrived at the Hughes home. After being smothered by Maes for her cuteness, and adopted as an eldest sister by Elicia without a second thought, she was soon working on the two Elric brothers' automail under Ana's fascinated gaze.She had, of course, recruited yet again Ari as an assistant, and with the two of them working through the clock, they were ready to go to Rush City, and Dublith, within three days – which was, given the state of Ed's and Al's automail, quite a miracle. "Don't be gone too long! Otherwise the colonel will be unbearable once more!""Shut up, lieutenant Hawkeye.""And do come back before my lovely Elicia's birthday!""Shut up Maes.""See, he's already becoming moody!" mock cried Maes"The bastard's always moody!" was Ed's loud answer Ari and Roy shared a glance at the antics of their small group of friends, reminiscent of the Vongola X's craziness, and the dark-haired officer engulfed the slender girl in a hug, not wanting to let go of her just yet. Despite his protests, Riza was right in saying he felt better when Ariana wasn't too far away. After all, that girl always manage to land up in dangerous situations."Stay safe, bambina. I'm a professional hit man, not a healer.""Technically, you're a military officer, not a professional hit man." corrected the amused girl, one eyebrow rising"There's a difference?" he asked with an arrogant smirk Laughing lightly, she escaped his arms, as the train's whistle called the late passengers. Elicia was loudly crying at seeing the four siblings and Winry leaving, and Ana's eyes looked definitely misty. "The Hughes are really a kind family," Winry remarked as the dug into the apple pie Gracia had baked for them"That they are." Ed nodded "It's good the bastard's been stationed in Central City, they'll be safer." he reluctantly admitted"Maes knows how to defend himself, but the colonel is frightening." A nodded l "Still, they should be safe, I don't think we've been identified.""I don't think either." Ari confirmed "We haven't been followed by any of the Sins since we went to the lab, and we've even lost our guard." "That's because Scar's presumed dead." Al pointed out"And is he?" Winry asked, sounding a bit afraid yet hopeful - the siblings had told her, after their encounter with the man, that he was probably the one who killed her parentsThey had felt she had the right to know. Learning more about her parent's murder had been hard, yet therapeutic. "Well there wasn't any body found, only his coat and lots of blood." Ed explained "There's no real proof. So the brass may have recalled the alchemists' guard, I'll still keep my eyes open."His siblings nodded along.Their defeat against the Ishvalian still stung, and they wouldn't let themselves get caught unaware twice by the man. "Kya! Here we are!"Ed jumped away from their childhood friend as Winry rushed out of the train, going from one shop's front to another, eye's sparkling in wonder."She really is a mechanic freak." he sighed after making sure she wasn't listening to them, the siblings idly trailing behind the blond girl that had found her paradise "A cute mechanic freak." he amended mentally, eyeing his childhood friend excitedly browse the shops around them "Well, the city is full of automail mechanics, and automail bearers." Al noted idly as they wandered around the city "She does fit right in.""Do you think she'll find a good teacher?" Ed wondered aloud, languidly stretching while rebuffing yet another mechanic offering to do a check-up on him Ari opened her mouth to answer – then closed it, and her arm snaked around her brother's waist, snatching a nimble hand without breaking her stride."Eh let me go!" protested the owner of said hand, a young teenage girl with tanned skin and dark hair"Well, you shouldn't go around pickpocketing passerbies if you weren't ready to get caught one day." Ari answered back "I mean, your technique was good enough, but you really should practice on being more discreet." "Ari," Al sighed "You really shouldn't lecture any criminal we meet on how to become better in their illegal endeavor. We're in the military!"Said sister didn't get a chance to answer, as the young pick-pocket had finally regained her bearing enough to try and escape, launching a surprisingly powerful kick, blade ripping her pants along her tibia's bone, only to be stopped by Ari's automail."So both of your legs are automail, eh?" commented the youngest State-alchemist, as the girl's free leg let out a bullet round that she easily avoided"So what's to it?" she asked defiantly, while Al was already repairing the damages done by her explosive bullet, under the shopkeeper's tearful thanks Ari wasn't given the time to retort, Winry, having finally noticed the altercation, suddenly gripping the thief with hearts in her eyes "This work is brilliant!" she proclaimed, minutely examining the two automail legs "This is the first automail I've seen that has interesting additions yet doesn't give up an elegant form either! And it's still sturdy! Please take me to the author of such art!"Ed snorted at the demand – but their childhood friend knew how to be convincing when she wanted to, and within minutes, they were following the thieving girl outside of the city. "Mister Dominic is a great man," the thief who'd identified herself as Paninya was explaining "He took me in and made me two legs to stand on when I was at the lowest point of my life, and never accepted any repayment for them! But he's also a loner, which is why his automail aren't well known, he doesn't like to talk with people, so he doesn't take a lot of clients..." "That's too bad, his work is really great." Winry sighed forlornly "Automail isn't just a science, it's an art too!"The discussion continued on the same fiber as they left the city behind and were soon in a rocky area, and finally, after crossing one last bridge across a deep ravine, they entered the courtyard of a modest home. ¤.¤.¤ "Hi guys! I brought guests!""Welcome!" a tall, smiling man looking to be in his thirties acknowledged from where he was working"He doesn't look like a loner..." Ed mumbled "Oh!" a laugh "That's my father Dominic, I'm Ridel, and this is my wife Satella." he introduced as a heavily pregnant entered the room, smiling just as warmly as her husband"I just made some snacks!" said wife announced "Come in!""Are you here for an order?" Ridel was wondering "Nope, our mechanic's just here." Ed answered, pointing at Winry "She's the one that wanted to come, the monkey's legs caught her eye.""I'm not a monkey!""You shouldn't have tried to steal from me if you didn't want to get called names!""Well you wouldn't even have noticed it if it wasn't for your sister, shorty!" Al, Ari and even Ana winced as the word was pronounced, knowing well what was coming... "Who are you calling a bean-sprout so short a mouse would think it was its long-lost child!" Paninya lightly jumped out of the way, and started to run, followed by the eldest Elric sibling, the girl shouting a greeting at a newcomer - a tall, rough looking man with white hair and a heavy-looking wrench negligently resting on one shoulder. While the two automail-clad teenagers were busy bickering, Winry had approached the grumpy looking man and engaged in a technical talk, somehow managing to keep his attention.After a few minutes of complicated jargon, Al sighed "I don't understand a thing." he easily admitted"Can we play then?" Ana asked, coloring pens and paper in hand – with a quick glance around, Al asserted that no one had seen the little girl take the items out of her Inventory and settled on the ground with her to 'play', as Ana qualified her Alchemy lessons Ari was politely talking with Satella, helping her around the kitchen, and Al, engrossed in his lessons, soon forgot about the strangers around them – until a voice made him jump, unknowingly echoing his observation from earlier, if on a different topic "I don't understand a thing."Paninya was leaning behind his shoulder, trying to read the simple – for an alchemist – schematics drawn by his steady hands, and Ana's slightly less professional ones. "This is basic alchemy." he explained "But you'd still need a few lessons before being able to understand those circle.""And that little girl can do it?" she asked, somewhat doubtful"I'm not little!" Ana loudly proclaimed, vexed "And I can!" Al rolled his eyes at the first affirmation, wondered if Ed wasn't rubbing on their sister.Then said sister resolutely clapped her hands together like she'd always seen her brothers do.And the paper sheet in front of her burst into flames. "Ana! What did I told you about doing alchemy without our supervision?" Al automatically lectured, mind still reeling from what had just happened"Not to." the girl answered guiltily "I should have asked before. I'm sorry big brother.""Don't do it again." he answered with a sigh "And no more fighting lessons for the week.""I'm really sorry." she mumbled, tears shimmering in her eyes, clearly understanding she had done something wrong"I know, Ana."He drew the little girl in a hug absentmindedly, sharing a concerned look with his siblings.None of them had realized that Ana had seen Truth when her father experimented on her, and they still didn't know the reason for the homunculi interest in alchemists having seen it. As one, their concern was replaced by resolution – they'd protect Ana, the little girl had already been through too much for such a young child.This world didn't need any more children like them. Children deprived of their innocence in blood and tears. ¤.¤.¤ Thankfully, none of the people around them were alchemist, and as such they didn't understood the importance of what had just happened, apart from the fact that Ana was a very talented little girl. Then, attention was diverted from them by Winry's loud proclamation "It's exactly as I thought... Mister Dominic, please take me as an apprentice!"The man didn't waste one second thinking on it as the girl bowed in front of him "Rejected!""Please consider it at least!" the opinionated blond protested"I don't need an apprentice!" the other just as fast denied The discussion, if it could be called that, went on for quite some time before Ridel intervened "I'm sorry, but my dad is quite stubborn, you should just give up.""You should just go home!" nodded the man loudly"In this weather?" Ariana protested "Our automail are heat-proof, not water-proof! Rain gives joint aches!" she added, Padfoot whining loudly by her side – and Paninya nodding vigorously too, legs up and massaging them around the port"There's no such thing as heat-proof automail." sniffed haughtily Dominic In a second, Ari discarded her red coat, revealing the simple black tank-top she wore under it, blatantly ignoring her eldest brother protests about "protecting her modesty" and shoved her automail under the mechanic's nose, pointing out the alchemy array on it, before walking to the fire and putting her arm in it."See," she announced smugly "Heat proof. And Cold-proof too, technically." a frown I guess I could work on some kind of waterproofing circle..." she added, brain already working on it before refocusing on the topic at hand "Still, Winry did it!" "Er... I only engraved the array," corrected their childhood friend honestly "I'm no alchemist.""Still you work." Ari shrugged, opening the secret compartment where her throwing knives were stashed "It piss me off to see this guy dismissing your work like that." she admitted, shrugging "You made my first arm when I was nine year old and I became the youngest State-alchemist ever with it. You're not a second-rate mechanic!""I never dismissed her work." Dominic grumbled "I just don't want an apprentice. Why do you want me anyway?" "Your work's the best I saw around town." Winry answered "You're the only one that has any originality, and finesse. I promised I'd do the best for Ari and the rest! I won't settle on some kind of normalized work for them!" she protested hotly"That and granny Pinako wouldn't forgive you if you left home only to compromise on your work." smirked Ed"Pinako?" Dominic's face lost all color "Pinako of Rosembool? You're related to her?""She's my grand-mother." nodded the pale blond girl, intrigued by his reaction "You know her?" He shuddered "Let's not talk about that she-devil." his eyed her more seriously "While I do not need an apprentice, there's one man that could help you." he admitted "He's flamboyant, and persistent, and annoying, but he knows his job. And you can come by when you've got a bit of spare time. After all, a true mechanic should be able to learn just by seeing a master work."Winry's smile was blinding "Thanks, mister Dominic! You won't regret it! I'll call granny tomorrow to let her know!"The old mechanic opened his mouth for what probably was yet another grumpy retort when Satella interrupted, voice eerily calm and resounding loudly in the house despite not raising it "I think my waters just broke." Chaos ensued. After looking at everyone, bar the pregnant woman, who couldn't move, and Ana, who didn't really understand what was going on, run like headless chickens for a few moments, Ari stepped in "Let's get you to your bed, Satella."The woman nodded gratefully, and the action calmed most of those present. Taking a rain-coat, Dominic headed toward the door "I'm going to fetch the doctor." A few minutes went by, Ari, Winry and Paninya helping Satella to the bedroom, while the boys were sent to the kitchen to "get out of the way", then Dominic barged right back in "The bridge has collapsed!" he announcedAri, having heard from the room, got out, leaving Winry and Paninya to help Ridel's wife while she followed her brothers in the rain. "With the raging water, and the size of the ravine, alchemy isn't going to cut it." Al muttered "Any bridge we alchemize would collapse under its own weight before reaching the other side.""Except if we go at it from both sides." Ed contradicted, drawing a small schematic in the ground "We need someone starting the bridge from each side, and a good use of alchahestry to create a side-beam to support the weight under each half of the structure..." Ari eyed the ravine. While she could go to places she knew well as far as kilometers away nowadays, using her black flames for a straight jump like that was different – she usually only made jumps of a dozen of meters or so. The nearly hundred meters of width of the place wouldn't be easy."I'll do it." she decided, resolve made"I'll take care of this side." added Al As for Ed, he was busy threatening Dominic "Don't go spread around Ari's strange skill, old man, or you'll regret it."Of course, the man didn't take too well to the threats - but he was worrying for his daughter-in-law, and understood that the boy in front of him was just the same.Worrying for his sister.So he nodded, and as soon as the bridge was completed, took off in direction of the city, having a doctor to fetch. The siblings tiredly walked back to the house, where apparently the baby hadn't wanted to wait for the doctor and was already underway, Winry having taken charge of the operation. Ari went to help their childhood friend while the brothers went back to the kitchen to reassure Ridel. And finally, the cries of pain were replaced by silence – then the loud wailing of a newborn infant. ¤.¤.¤ All of people waiting in the kitchen relaxed, as a pale looking Paninya finally allowed them into the bedroom..."I really hate blood..." she whimpered – but her affirmation was drowned by the baby's shouts and the other's happy whoopingWhen the doctor finally arrived with Dominic, he only had to perform the post-natal check on both baby and mother, and was justly impressed with the girls that had helped Satella in giving birth. When they left the happy family the next day, Winry had a map and a letter to give to the mechanic Dominic was recommending her to, and all of them had a standing invitation to come and visit when they were nearby issued by the grumpy old man himself. As for Winry, she had somehow reformed Paninya overnight, much to the Elric siblings disbelief..."I only stole things to repay the old man for my legs." the girl shrugged "But I realized he gave me those legs to live a good life, not that of a thief. So I'll reform and make him proud!" Ari had smiled at that. While she didn't really have anything against thieves and other people who worked in the underworld what with her previous life, she was still happy with Paninya's choice. After all, family came first – and that was just what the grumpy mechanic was for the street rat...After that, the four Elric siblings dropped Winry at her new master – a very flamboyant mechanic that soon had Ed wanting to escape – and he was even willing, as the group vouched for her, to give a chance to Paninya. She wouldn't become a mechanic, but he did accept to give her small jobs from time to time... Their business in Rush City done, the four alchemists were heading toward the train station when Paws wandered off. Al followed a few seconds later, visibly called over by his familiar – it soon appeared that the cat had found a man, passed out in an alley."He doesn't look hurt or anything." Ed muttered"Food..." moaned the man, weakly lifting his head off the ground – and from his face, clothes, and the dao strapped in his back he visibly was Xingese Ed sighed."Why are you always picking up strays?" he asked, half-accusing, half-resigned to his siblings"Alchemists are supposed to help people, big brother Ed!" pointed out Ana "That they are." he nodded with a sigh, Al and him helping the man up "Well, I think there's a snack bar near the train station, let's go." he indicated.As they picked the stranger up, a new notification popped up... [Secondary Quest! A Prince from a Faraway land...Goal: help the strangerReward: +100XP per goal, unlocks Enhancement System, +1 item-leveling token] The siblings studied a bit the man they were helping, wondering what could be so important about him that a whole quest had been launched by his presence. A few moments later, they were seated around a table, the man eating so much food that Ari felt thankful they weren't short on money thanks to the various quests reward, while the siblings themselves were taking advantage of the stop to eat too."Thank you," finally said the man, pushing his empty bowl back "You really saved me!" [Goal complete! +100XPGoal update: find out the stranger's reason for being here] "Think nothing of it." answered Ariana with a benign smile before her eldest brother could come up with one of usual retorts"Still," the man smiled "It's good meet such kind people in a foreign nation!" "Speaking of this, what's a Xingese doing here?" Ed asked somewhat rudely"You don't look like you need automail," Al nodded along "so how did you land here?""I came to Amestris by the route that goes through the Xerxesians ruins," the other answered "so Rush City was the nearest city out of the desert.""It would have been easier to use the sea route." Ari commented seemingly innocently "It's longer but safer.""Ah, but I wanted to see those ruins." the Xingese contradicted, unknowingly answering Al's unasked question The siblings shared a concerned glance – happy they had taken care to erase any traces of the old array that had destroyed the country in one night."So you're a tourist then?" Ana wondered "No. I came here to take a look at this country's alchemy.""What for?" Ari wondered, genuine curiosity audible in her question "I mean, Xingese alkahestry is much more advanced when it comes to healing applications. Plus alkahestry can be done from a distance, whereas Amestrian alchemy can't." a small frown "Nowadays our alchemy is more used a tool of war rather than anything else.""You seem to know a lot, are you alchemists?""We are." Al nodded "But you don't seem to know a lot about your own country's alkahestry so why would you be interested in our alchemy?" "I'm looking for something." he said, eyes suddenly glinting dangerously "And there's a lot of rumors about it in this country..."The siblings suddenly had a bad feeling."You wouldn't happen to know anything about it would you? The philosopher stone?" ¤.¤.¤ Ed sighed again."The next time you pick up a stray," he accusingly said to his siblings "We aren't keeping it."Al sheepishly grinned "Sorry brother."As for Ari, she was discreetly looking around her to check nobody had heard about the stranger's demand. Luckily, the homunculi hadn't followed them to Rush City, and most people around them only cared about automail, and had as such stopped listening as soon as alchemy had been mentioned. Still, there were two suspicious presences."Are the two people hidden on the roof yours?" she quietly asked to the black-haired man His eyes flickered with surprise – and interest, before he nodded. "They are indeed." a predatory smile "And you, my friends, must be very skilled to have felt their presence."Ari's mouth curved into a lazy smile "Ah, that would be telling wouldn't it?" she scrutinized him "So tell me... What do you want with that rock?""Immortality."She sized him up, restraining her natural reaction of wanting to snarl at the arrogant affirmation."If I thought you really were trying to escape Death, I would be pummeling you to the ground about right now." she stated – and her tone may be light, the tenseness of her body screamed her true state of mind "But you don't seem the type. So tell me... Why are you looking for a mean to achieve immortality?" Behind his loud-mouth and easy going attitude, the man was far from stupid, and as such, he recognized something important. Disgust had been the dominant emotion among the three eldest siblings since he'd brought the Red Stone topic up – a reaction so different from anyone else that it was suspicious in and of itself. Add to that the carefully controlled reaction of the girl to the word "immortality" and he knew that one way or another those siblings knew something.They knew something, yet didn't thread along the subject as if they wanted to keep the knowledge to themselves by greed. No they acted like people than knew about something dangerous, that shouldn't be lightly shared. And despite their inherent and obvious dislike of the topic, they still were willing to hear him out first. And so, he opted for honesty. "I am Ling Yao, of the Yao Clan, twelfth son of the Xingese Emperor." he started "I was raised as a warrior and a prince, and have the duty to protect my clan." a line appeared between his brow "But recently the emperor's health has started to decline, and with it, the intrigue to be declared heir to the throne increased.""It's not simply the elder?" Al wondered, surprised"It's not. Each of the emperor's children is the scion of a different clan, and as such, each clan is ready to push for his heir to ascend. With his health declining, the emperor said that the one who would give him the key to immortality would be named his heir." "Which is stupid. I doubt he would give his throne to anyone if he was to become immortal." Al idly noted"Do you think I don't know that?" the prince answered "But I've still got a duty to my clan, so if I manage something good enough that my royal father at least became healthier for a time, I would be named heir.""So its not as much the Red Stone rather than a cure that you're looking for?" "Yes, but even our best practitioners of alkahestry couldn't do anything for the emperor." his eyes darkened "And they paid a heavy price for their failure...""So you followed the rumors of the Red Stone to the ruins of Xerxes." Ari deduced "And, when coming up empty handed there, went to the next location where rumors of the Stone existed.""Amestris." he confirmed [Goal complete! +100XPGoal update: help Ling Yao find an alternative to the Red Stone] The siblings silently communicated, then Ed let out a loud sigh "Alright, alright, I get it, we're helping the stray prince..." "We're not helping you get that stone." Ari stated "But we are willing to work with you on finding an alternative. And, if we learn to trust each other, we'll even tell you why this stone is bad news. But for now, know that going around loudly claiming you're looking for the Philosopher Stone may be dangerous.""Right now, we're going to Dublith." Al continued "Feel free to follow us, or meet us in Central City in September." The prince needn't think – he had already made his decision when he talked to complete strangers about the political climate of his country."Lan Fan, old man Fu." the two hidden warrior kneeled in front of him "We're following them." two nods, and they disappeared just as silently as they had appeared Moments latter, the four Elric siblings and the Xingese trio were installed within a train compartment, heading toward Dublith. ¤.¤.¤ The day following the Elric's departure, Roy entered the new office his team and him had been assigned, then raised an eyebrow at the chaos reigning inside."What the hell is going on?" he asked Riza, who seemed the calmest among the crew "Master sergeant Fury picked up a dog this morning. Apparently it was raining and he took pity on the pup..." she pointed at a silhouette hiding behind the door to the colonel's office "But second lieutenant Breda is afraid of dogs, lieutenant Havoc wants to eat it..." she trailed, wondering if she really had to continue"Why did I even ask?" the colonel wondered "None of the Elric are here, is the inherent chaos that follow them everywhere leaking to you?" he asked his team, only half joking "So, are you going to keep it?" Havoc wondered"I can't," Fury answered forlornly "I live in the dormitory...""And the other idiot wants to eat him..." Roy muttered, not really meaning to be heard"That was a joke!""You're still a menace for the poor beast!" he answered back He wondered, how it had happened – somehow, between gaining back his memories of Renato Sinclair, and the Chaos force that were the Elric, he'd let himself become much more relaxed with his team as long as outsiders weren't present.He rather liked it. "I'll take him."The feminine voice surprised everyone in the office – well, everyone but him. His sorella was much kinder than she let on, after all and she wouldn't let the pup be abandoned back out in the rain. Grabbing the black and white ball of fluff, she smiled "After all the Elric siblings already have more than enough pets...""Somehow I'm just waiting for Ana to find her own." interjected Havoc "And none of you can, or are responsible enough...""What about the colonel?" Breda asked from behind his door, apparently feeling better now that Riza had the pup in her hands – after all, who would be stupid enough to invoke her ire? Even a dog should know better..."That would be animal abuse."Havoc promptly answered "I'll let you know that I never had ant problems with Leon." said colonel protested"Leon is mostly self-sustaining." Riza pointed out"Leon?" Falman wondered – echoing what the rest of the team was wonderingThe question was soon answered as Leon deigned show himself to the group, letting his coloring fade from those of the shoulder he was currently sitting on. "What the!""A chameleon?" an incredulous Havoc muttered"Leon isn't just any chameleon." Roy corrected, vexed on behalf of his partnerRiza ignored them, raising the puppy in her arms to meet it's eyes "I'll name you Black Hayate." Then, Roy realized something "Second lieutenant Breda... You do realize that we regularly share our office with both a dog and a fox? How is it that your fear of canine didn't show up before today?""Foxes aren't dogs." he answered easily "And Padfoot... I'm pretty sure there's no way he's a dog." he added At the disbelieving silence following his affirmation, his eyes narrowed, as he looked at his coworkers "What? Don't tell me none of you have realized that he's way too intelligent to be an animal? I mean he gives his opinion when we talk, he knows how to do pranks, and its clear he understands our language!"At that, the others couldn't help but nod along.Everyone knew that the Elric's pets were strange - but the strangest was, without a doubt, Padfoot. The colonel and his sister shared an amused glance - of all the way their team could have started wondering about all the strange things happening around the Elric siblings in particular, and the Chaos' gamers in general - it was the dog that did it.Roy couldn't help it, he burst out laughing, tears in his eyes.Served the old dogfather right for calling him a stalking pedophile! X: Summer 1914 As the train was slowly approaching its stop, the two Elric brothers were afflicted with something quite common for them – fear of seeing their teacher again. "Why are we going to Dublith again?" Ed muttered despondently"I don't know..." Al answered back, loooking just as pale as Ed"We're too young to die!" the eldest Elric loudly wailed , his brother echoing himLing was starting to seriously worry about the two boys. "Why are big brothers crying?" Ana was asking innocently to her sister"Because boys aren't as courageous as girls." Ari explained"Who is teacher?""She is the one who taught us alchemy. She is a very kind housewife, whose husband runs a butchery.""Stop feeding our lovely, innocent little sister lies!" Ed protested "That woman is the devil incarnate!" "Hmm... Should I tell teacher what you think about her?""Please don't." her cowed eldest brother immediately replied"And Al, must I remind you you're the one who wanted to come?""Can I plead temporary insanity?""No brother, you can't, you have people to heal and that's why you're here.""Oh, right." Ari sighed – Al looked like he had actually forgotten. Settling on ignoring her lamenting brothers, she engaged Ling in a conversation on Xing, surprising him with her mastery of the language."I'd like to visit one day." she said wistfully "I used to go talk to the men that traveled back and forth between Xing and Amestris when I was a child." she explained as he asked where she'd learn to talk Xingese "My dad had alkahestry treaties, but I couldn't read them so I learned with those men to read those books... then came back for the stories.""Why the interest in alkahestry?" the prince asked, genuinely curious "After all, I never heard of Amestrians alchemists taking an interest in it." "That's because with the current regulations, obtaining books from Xing is all but impossible." Al explained, somewhat calmer than earlier – and now going over his notes on alkahestry"That and our alchemy is vaunted as more powerful that alkahestry. Which, of course, is complete bullshit..." Al grumbled "Still, the way alchemy and alkahestry are taught are completely different, so most people think they cannot be learned together.""When truth is, you just had to take a look at the in-depth theory to realize that there are a lot of similarities between the two." "Well, most people aren't geniuses like you, Ed." Ari contradicted "What we did in months would have taken years to be done by any other alchemist.""Well, of course I am a genius!" her brother proudly answered back with a smirk "After all, I scored the highest score ever on the State Alchemist National Exam!""That you did." Al mourned "And your ego really didn't need the boost..."Ed was preparing a witty retort – but was interrupted by the train's whistle, as they entered the station and moment later, the group was disembarking, looking for the tall figure of mister Curtis, whom wasn't too hard to find. "You've grown Ed." the man commented after looking at the group for a moment "And you too Al." his eyes settled on the two sisters "And...""This is Ana, our sister." Ari said "She's with us since our trip to the desert.""I see." the man nodded, satisfied "And those?""Friends from Xing." Al simplified "They are sticking with us.""I'll make another room when we get home." noted Mason who'd stayed silent up until now "Its good to see you kids." "Let's go, Izumi is waiting for you.""She's sick again?" Ari asked with a frown – only being bed-ridden would forbid their teacher from greeting them at the station after allMister Curtis somber gaze was more than answer enough – it was just as she'd though, their teacher's state was declining more and more. Al clenched his hand reassuringly – he had spent a lot of time with his water alchemy, at first to help the human-chimera rescued by Shan Feng, but then he'd talked with her about their teacher's health.He had no perfect solution, for Truth's price had been a hefty one for the Curtis housewife, but he felt confident enough that they could help her... ¤.¤.¤ Ling, for all his easy-going attitude, was serious enough when he met Izumi Curtis – it was easy, despite all their protests about it, to see that the siblings loved the bedridden woman."So," the woman was eyeing him with intelligent and suspicious eyes "What's with the stray?""A Xingese prince." Ed shrugged "You know those two."Izumi nodded along with her eldest student in commiseration – Ling felt vaguely insulted. "I guess you didn't come here just to see me?""Ana, release your true form." Ari instructedWith an uncertain glance at the unknown woman and Xingese prince, the little girl bite into her thumb, and let the blood smear across a small tattooed array on her wrist – and immediately, furry ears and a tuft tail appeared. "You managed to create an array that hide a human-chimera animal characteristics." their teacher understood, eyes widening in surprise "This could change the life of Shan's men!""You can go and play in the backyard if you want." Ari instructed her sister "Just...""Don't forget to change my appearance if I go out." the girl nodded, used by now to the instructions "I know." she smiled, knowing it was her siblings way of caring, before rushing out, Paws lazily following her"The array's been done for a while, but we were a bit busy." Al explained, sheepish "And the girl?""We adopted her." Ed answered, brow creasing just by remembering Ana's birth father "Her father was the Life-Binding Alchemist. He used his wife to get his silver watch, then used her when he couldn't get enough results with only animals." "What kind of monster could do this to his own daughter?" Ling couldn't help but ask, disgusted"And this is the improved result." Al added "If Ari hadn't interfered..." he shuddered, thinking about the vision of horror it had been, their sister in the middle of the bloodied room, with the inhuman thing, alive despite all odds, in her arms Thankfully, Ling didn't ask anymore, what he read on his face more than enough for the prince – and this was the kind of thing that were going on behind the scene in this country, he understood why they told him his quest was dangerous.The discussion shifted from Al's array – they would go see Shan as soon as possible – to Scar's attack, Roy's and the teams promotion to Central City. Then Ari announced "We met two of Shan's siblings.""What happened?""One is dead. The other bastard got away." Ed muttered – Izumi nodded but didn't ask anymore in front of the Xingese princeAs for said prince, he understood that there was more to the story – but the siblings had no reason to trust him for now, which he understood well enough, used to power-play and political maneuver like he was. "Anyway," Ari smiled "let's get down to business." she looked around her "Everyone out, Al, stay here."She nipped her finger, then Izumi's thumb, and a small circle flashed alight under Al's attentive eyes – she had trained him in her diagnostic array while he was looking for ways to help the Dublith's chimeras. As the circle activated, images flashed behind Ari's eyelids. "It's as I thought." she said after a moment "Your survival after your encounter with Truth was somewhat a medical impossibility, but since in the spirit of equivalent exchange he couldn't let you die, he made it work." a frown "But what he did is failing away as your body is trying to get back to its natural working order.""Which won't work, since my natural working order would kill me.""Exactly." With that, Al made the same array as her, looking at what she had just explained – they had decided that Ari would do the diagnosis first because she had already performed the circle on their teacher."Right now," he took over his sister's explanation "Alkahestry couldn't cure you, but could help you. Basically, I could craft an array to strengthen what Truth did to keep you alive.""But it would soon lose its effect too." Izumi guessed "Even faster than what Truth did." admitted Al "Even with Ari adding blood runes, your body would still fight against it.""To truly heal you, there are only two solutions right now." said Ari darkly "Neither ideal." ¤.¤.¤ "The first would be to use a Red Stone.""So that's out."A nod."The second?" "To provide the missing material and replace it with something else.""I guess we aren't speaking about stealing another woman's inners, so what are you suggesting?""Making your into a human-chimera." Izumi stayed silent for a bit, stunned about the proposition, but still thinking about it.While she had seen Ana and knew that she could hid it thanks to Al's work, she still had Shan's workers in mind, and how being experimented on by the military had changed their life. "I need to know more." she finally admitted – after trying, and failing to bring back her newborn daughter, she stayed far away from anything related to living alchemyEven talking about become a chimera was making her hair raise on her arms – not because she was disgusted by them, the chimera she knew were still people in the important ways.No it was the idea of messing with life that made her wary – but the fact was, she wasn't ready to leave her husband alone in this life; she still wanted to help her students fight against the being that was controlling their country from the shadow. She wasn't ready to die. So, if Ari who had tried for years to convince her brothers not to mess with human alchemy to bring back their mother was considering this a viable solution, then she would hear them out before making a decision. "The first thing to know is that it would basically completely rebuilt your whole body. So on top of setting your organs back into working order, all your body would be new. So no old scars, or other infirmities will be left.""The second thing is that because your body make-up will be mixed with that of an animal, you will take on some traits of this animal, and not only physically, but also mentally." "For example, Ana who is a dog chimera can understand canine, is very loyal, playful and also tend to see our family as her pack. She also became a bit more aggressive toward people she consider a danger to her pack, and won't hesitate to fight to defend those she love, while she was a very peaceful and non-aggressive child before.""The third, important thing is that the animal you'll be merged with have to be alive, and that you will possibly gain some memories from it. Ana remember playing with her dog before the merging from both point of view apparently..." "The fourth point is that, whatever had been said about alchemists needing a soul to practice and as such animals being incapable of alchemy is bullshit. Animals do have a soul. As such, you won't become any less of an alchemist after the process."The two siblings shared a glance.The next point was probably the more important. "Finally, you must understand that all the chimera rescued by Shan were made with the help of the Philosopher Stone. That's what made their creation so successful, while Ana and her mother before her looked inhuman and were barely viable."Their teacher was far from stupid, and had known from the start that Ariana was very different from her siblings.As such she understood that whatever they were struggling to explain right now had a link with it. "You asked me once if I was a homunculus." the teenage girl stated calmly, ignoring her brother's shocked gasp "Physically, I'm completely human."Of course, Izumi noted the use of the term "physically"."And out of physical boundaries?""Something similar to Truth." she said, before cautioning "But I'm not all-powerful, don't mistake it. My powers are limited by my human form." "Godly powers aren't meant to be used by a mortal." Al added, unknowingly echoing Roy – after speaking with his sister about her gifts, he had understood that easily enough"But you're powerful enough to make the change." their teacher guessed Suddenly, the reason why the little girl had never said anything about her strangeness was crystal clear – this wasn't the kind of secret you shared with just anyone, and she would bet that her brothers didn't know the truth when they were younger.She smiled softly - the simple fact that the kids were sharing this with her was proof of their devotion to healing them.She really couldn't leave those brats alone."I'll do it." "Great!" "Good!"Both siblings seemed suddenly far less stressed, tense shoulders relaxing as their teacher announced she would live. They had talked about it, debating whether to tell her the whole truth about the process, and soon coming to the conclusion that she was far too skilled an alchemist not to understand something more was going on if they lied to her.And while straightening Truth's work would have worked for a time, it would have still left her weakened, and with barely a few years left.They wouldn't loose the one they called Teacher like other children would have called a beloved aunt Aunty. "We'll let you talk with mister Curtis and think about what kind of animal you'd like to use."With that they were out the door, Ed waiting on the other side seemingly nonchalantly – a wide grin on his face when he saw the smile lightening his siblings relieved posture. ¤.¤.¤ The rest of the afternoon had been spent relaxing in the garden, Ana having found a few local children to play with while the others were spread of the grass, reading, or chatting."Simon called Shan," Ed was saying "We're going to stop by his newest restaurant later.""Good to see he took my advice." Ari nodded with a self-satisfied smile"Sister," Al sighed "We already talked about it, military officer aren't supposed to help underworld boss becoming better.""Mister Feng is a very respectable business man." she protested innocently, making Ed snort "You know," Ling thoughtfully said "I really didn't expect the first State Alchemists I'd met to be geniuses kids dealing with the underworld and probably neck-deep into some kind of nation-wide conspiracy I don't know a thing about. This country is really strange!" then, eyes slowly opening in realization "In fact... the whole country feel strange... No... wrong..."The Elric siblings nodded as one, not even realizing it, Al shuddering "It's hard to ignore it once you've felt it, isn't it? The wrongness under our feet?" a sigh "It's even worse once you know what it is..." Ling was even more surprised "I'm surprised you're feeling it, I thought you Amestrians weren't trained in feeling the dragon pulse.""We usually aren't. But we taught ourselves when we got interested in alkahestry." Ed explained "Al is especially good at it.""So you can feel the wrongness of your country, and you know what it is?" the prince was seizing them up speculatively "And you chose to help me, so I'd guess it must have something to do with the stone?" "In a way of speaking" Ari confirmed "And if you weren't set on finding something to bring back to your clan, I'd advise you to turn tail and get out of this country as fast as possible."Ling nodded, appreciating the honesty he could read in the girl's body language. But he wouldn't be afraid so easily – he had a duty to his people, and even if things got dangerous, he'd weather it for them. Which apparently the geniuses siblings had clearly understood.Probably because, in a way, they were the same.It was just an intuition, but in the way they acted and spoke, sometimes, he could feel the same weight pressing on their shoulders as on his – the weight of countless people's life. Somehow, even if it wasn't his country, and he didn't know those kids well, it made him want to know more about the situation, to help them, just as they had promise they'd help him. "Ever since King Bradley became Fuhrer," Ed was later explaining "We've been at war, be it with border countries, or within our own nation. Most people tend to look down on alchemists who work for the military like us.""Military dog, weapon of war, traitors to our craft..." Al enumerated idly "We've been called all of these names, and more.""People don't seem to understand that it's from the inside that we'll be able to change thing." "And you've already changed things.""Teacher!" Ari exclaimed, happy like her brothers to see her up and about, if only for a moment"I promised myself I'd give you a beating the next time we met when you told me you'd taken the exam." the two brothers whitened, while Ari winced "But the fact is, even in the South we've heard of the famous Elric siblings, the People's Alchemists. Your colonel sent you out to remind people of what we alchemist could be... should be... and it worked." a smile "It made me want to go on the road again, like when I was younger, to help people where I could. I'm proud of what you became, proud you three brats convinced me to train you all these years ago." Ed wiped his eyes stubbornly – he definitely wasn't crying about what that devil of a woman was saying, no way about it; it was just something in the wind.Still, the grin on his face was just as wide as the one on his siblings'.Thankfully, no one said anything about it. "Let's go." her husband commented "Shan's has a private room reserved for us, he'll eat with us."With that the group was off – Izumi warning "You'll have to tell your two companions to stop hiding and walk with us, Shan's men are very distrustful, and they won't be able to hide from their senses."Ling was surprised, but still signaled for his bodyguard to obey. "Ariana! You've grown even more beautiful since last time we met!""See! I told you he was a pedophile!""Just because I can admire your sister's beauty does not make me a pedophile." the underworld boss haughtily bit back "It's been a long time, mister Feng." Al greeted "Meet our new sister, Anastasia Elric.""Yet another lovely young lady." smiled the other back, then, as the private room closed on them "And one not entirely human, if I'm not mistaken?""How the hell can you tell?" a bemused Ed wondered"Ariana may have been kind enough to free me, making me mortal in passing, I did retain my powers and superior senses. A dog chimera?" At her little sister's questioning glance, Ari nodded – and the little girl happily canceled the array hiding her true features under the former homunculus impressed eyes."You managed to hide her true self with alchemy?" he couldn't help but ask, impressed"Al has been working on this ever since we met your subordinates." Ed explained, smug on his brother's behalf "That's why we're here. That, and informing you that we killed your beautiful and bitchy sister." The man's eyes widened. "You managed to kill Lust?" he snort, correcting himself "Of course you did what with your little Shadow here.""I'll have you know that we did it completely with normal means." Ari felt compelled to protest, before admitting "And it wasn't easy at all.""Which made us come to the realization that we should probably get rid of the rest of them before the Promised Day if we can." Ed added darkly "Facing two of your siblings one behind the other was a bitch. The second nearly killed us ad escaped alive.""Which one was it?""Looking like a teenage, long spiky hair, and shape-shifter." "Envy." the former Greed named "A nasty bugger." he added with a wince "You're lucky to be alive.""We are." Al admitted"So I can see why you'd want to get rid of them, just... why not earlier than that?""We spent too much time looking for our father, chasing and killing any rumors about the stone and trying to avoid the blood-sheds." Ari admitted"But well, we can't wait to fin the bastard anymore," Ed took over "Promised Day is approaching, and we have to do something to stop it event without that man there to help." Ling was listening attentively.He knew that the siblings had made a choice by speaking before him of a seemingly secret topic – they were letting him puzzle what was going on around them bit by bit, and confirming it had something to do with the Philosopher Stone.The prince couldn't help but wonder why they were trusting him so easily; he had after all no way to know that Ari's Soul Art let her have a pretty good idea about someone's character, and whether to trust them or not. "Anyway, we'll have time to plan this during our stay," Al was saying "For now, what we can do is applying the same array Ana is using to your men.""It can be done now? How does it work?""It's blood-based." explained the blond boy "In simple terms, it separated the human and animal component of the body make-up, and bring the human part to the front. But don't mistake it, it's only skin-deep, it doesn't really change the chimera back into a human. The array is tattooed in a blood-based ink made with your own blood, and once the tattoo is made, it can be activated or released by smearing it with your blood only." ¤.¤.¤ Al, Ed and Ari were spent.When they saw the joy at the idea of being able to go out without hiding once more of the more animal-like chimeras, no one could just go home for the night and make them wait even another day.Everyone helped to make the ink, which was simple enough, and the four alchemists at hand went from one chimera to the other, inking the tattoo and checking that it did link with the holder's blood to activate. The night was long, but successful, and Ana had been really happy to meet so many other people like her – even if she loved her family, knowing she wasn't the only one was liberating, the little girl feeling a lot less like a freak, and a lot more simply like a member of a different specie.It was four AM when they finished their job among the many thanks of the chimeras, and a notification flashed before their eyes [Hidden Quest Complete! Hidden in plain sight...You've given the chimera a new chance at life by helping them blend in with the humansReward: +1000XP, +1 mutation unlocked, +10 beast language] [Level up! You are now level 52!+2SP] [Mutations available:- Cat's Eye: your eyes are sharp and sees just as well in the dark as in broad day light- Fox's Pad: you walk silently, never heard before hitting your prey- Wolf's Claw: your nails are now dangerously sharp claws- Dog's Nose: your sense of smell cannot be fooled- Bat's Ear: your audition is so god you could walk with you eyes closed- Cheetah's Paw: you run faster than any human- Snake's Fang: your body produce a potent acidic poison that can be leaked by your canine or nails 1 available] The siblings were stunned by the notification – they hadn't helped the chimera for a reward, but now that Chaos' Game was giving it to them they certainly wouldn't refuse it!And such a reward at that!Hearing a half asleep Ana mumbling about already having a good nose, they half-smiled, half-winced while wondering what the little girl would get up to with the new mutation she apparently had unlocked too. Still... they were exhausted, just as the rest of their group; and so they pushed the notification to the back of their mind, resolving to think about it after a good night – or day – of sleep.When they woke up hours later, it was to messages from both Winry and Roy and Riza, informing them that they too had gained the huge XP reward and mutation.Ari couldn't help but have the feeling Chaos really was having fun by messing with them...Then, she shrugged and settle on the Cat's Eye mutation. The choice hadn't been easy, all mutations being interesting in a way or another, but the idea of seeing in the dark appealed to her assassin's instincts.It was a few days later, as they were lounging on their bed in their usual puppy-pile, Ana working on her alchemy with crayons under Al's vigilant eyes, Ed working on some alchemy theory or another, if the schematics and lines of calculations were to be believed and Ari lightly napping, that Teacher entered the room."A fox." she announced "I'll merge with a fox." ¤.¤.¤ Money exchanged hands, as Ed let out a disgruntled moan and Al smiled serenely."Easy enough to catch one around here, a good silent hunter, a canine, which would be useful since three of you understands them." none of the siblings were really surprised she had noticed "Of course, I'd have preferred something a bit more powerful, but I really don't feel like wrestling with a bear just right now." that last bit made Ed drop his head in disappointment Ari nodded and got up "Well, seems like we've got ourselves a fox to catch.""Need some help?" Al volunteered, not really thinking she did but asking anyway"Don't bother." she denied as expected "I'll just pop by Jake Island and speak with them.""Of course alpha, take care." her brother nodded with a smile The girl extracted herself from the puppy-pile, and got out of the house, turning into a dark and empty alley before calling her Night Flames to her. Even if she hadn't been there in years, she still remembered the island clearly enough that her flames would get her there without problem.Once on the island, finding the foxes living there was easy enough. She was momentarily surprised to see an old, limping vixen come up to meet her, before recognizing her for Tempesta's mother. With her brother's familiar not aging like a normal fox thanks to his bond with Ed, she had forgotten that his mother probably was getting in on her years as a wild fox.And yet, despite her age, here was Tempesta's mother welcoming her back on Jake island. Ari smiled at the old vixen, then went on to explaining why she were here in words simple enough to be understood by the wild animal. "Take me to your sick pack-mate." finally declared the vixen after having understood the situation as well as she could "I'm old and not afraid of dying. And saving a pack-mate of Alpha is a worthy enough reason to give my life-force."Ariana accepted, thankful to the fox that quickly said her goodbye to her den before trotting back to her, ready. One Night Flame jump later, the two of them where back to the Curtis household, and back into Izumi's bedroom "This," explained Ari "is Quick Paw, vixen of Jake island's den, and mother of Tempesta. She volunteered herself."Surprised, but grateful, Teacher inclined her head respectfully toward the old lady. A few hours later, an array was drawn in the basement, Izumi and Quick Paw each in a secondary circle, Ari at the center powering the ritual under her siblings and mister Curtis watchful eyes. Eyes glowing like emeralds, the young goddess let alchemy, Blood Art and Soul Art mix freely in the red-glowing array, the flash of alchemical reaction blinding everyone for several agonizingly long seconds – enough time for the two silhouette on the secondary circle to have disappeared, and a new, familiar yet different form to have appeared in a third secondary circle that had been, until now, empty.Apart from the pointy ears standing on her head, and the long fluffy tail lazily waving in her back, their teacher didn't seem all that different – except in the most important way. Never before had they seen Izumi Curtis looking so healthy. The siblings shared a satisfied look, before the two brothers went to help their sister, who was kneeling in the center of the powering down array, exhausted and eyes slowly fading back into gold – letting mister Curtis hold his wife in his arms, tears falling silently from the rough looking man's eyes. "I'm pretty sure teacher will be able to to do the concealing array herself after all the practice she got in the other day," Ed commented with a smirk "Let's get you to bed."Ari nodded gratefully, having only enough time to wonder when Ed had grown enough to be able to carry her so easily before falling asleep in her brother's arms.She wouldn't see the notification from Chaos Game that appeared in front of her at the same time as her two brothers until the next day... Hidden Quest Complete! The circle of life...You've cured Izumi Curtis from Truth's priceReward: +1000XP, +1 mutation unlocked, + 5 earth alchemy, +5 fire alchemy, +5 air alchemy, +5 water alchemy] [Level up! You are now level 54!+2SP] [Mutations available:- Fox's Pad: you walk silently, never heard before hitting your prey- Wolf's Claw: your nails are now dangerously sharp claws- Dog's Nose: your sense of smell cannot be fooled- Bat's Ear: your audition is so god you could walk with you eyes closed- Cheetah's Paw: you run faster than any human- Snake's Fang: your body produce a potent acidic poison that can be leaked by your canine or nails- Hawk's eye: you can see very far, and pick out movement from the corner of your eyes 1 available] ¤.¤.¤ Following her usage of holy powers to reconstruct their teacher's body, Ari spent nearly three days bed-ridden – three days that were more than enough to settle on Fox's Pad as her new mutation, then spent her time alternatively resting, and chatting with all the people that came to see her. "It's like the whole town knows I'm sick!" she eventually jokingly complained to their teacher"Well all of mister Feng's men are extremely grateful to us, Al and you especially, and they are more than happy to go out now that they can..."The teenage girl couldn't help but smile at that - truth was it always warmed her heart to see how much happier the chimera were now that they could go out again without worrying about a gust of wind blowing their disguise off them. In a truly ideal world, they wouldn't have to hide their appearance - but Ari didn't think that such a world existed - prejudice was sadly universal. "As for the Xingese prince, he seems genuinely worried about you." her teacher continued with a smile "Should I scare him away from my lovely, and much too young for him, student?" she asked with a predatory grin"Don't worry about that," Al laughed, entering the room with food on a tray "the colonel is more than scary and possessive enough.""The colonel?" Izumi lifted an eyebrow "Something you forgot to tell me Ariana?"The young girl groaned, and glared at her brother. Then she spent the next hour enduring their teacher's interrogation, with her amused brother enjoying the scene. Their teacher's questions only stopped when Ed barged in, Ling in tow "What's going on?" he wondered, taking in his brother's hilarity, teacher's glare and sister's sigh"Teacher is trying to decide whether the colonel is good enough for sister." Al managed to answer before bursting out laughing"Pff. The colonel's a smug arrogant bastard, but he's also the only one worthy enough of Ari." Ed answered as if it was the most obvious answer – which it was, for him "And even if he wasn't he would be the only one she'd accept, so the point is moot." If there was a bit of disappointment in Ling's eyes, nobody said anything about it, and Izumi sighed – Ari was way to young to be romantically interested in anyone, goddess or not! But if even Ed was agreeing, then she really couldn't do anything about it...Ah well, nothing prevented her from still checking the man's skills when she'd meet him.He may have Ed's and Al's approval, he hadn't earned hers yet. "Anyway," Ed interrupted her silent plotting "something happened."Seeing that he had all of their attention, he announced "The Fuhrer is doing an inspection of the South, he'll be in town tomorrow.""Well, I know we we talking about getting rid of Shan's siblings but..." Al hesitated "But can we really afford getting rid of King Bradley just now?" Izumi completed "He may be bloodthirsty leader, right now he's also the one preventing our country from falling into civil war.""Because he's planning to use the whole fucking country as a sacrifice for that bastard's Father!" Ed hotly protested, momentarily forgetting about Ling's presence"The true question is, can he be turned from Father's plans?" Ari mused "So what do we do?""We watch him, talk to him without letting on too much about what we know if possible." Ari shruggedEd groaned. He didn't like it at all – but the others were right."We've got to warn Shan." he said "He didn't know the Fuhrer was one of them but that doesn't mean the Fuhrer doesn't know his face." a sigh "It's good we did those arrays on the chimera earlier this week." Ari leaning against her pillows a bit more, weariness taking over as the rest of the conversation went back to safer topics – she wasn't satisfied anymore than her brothers, even if she hid it better. Their victory against Lust had been hard won, and Envy had nearly killed them; they had to weaken Father's side before the Promised Day, and their only way to do this was to get rid of his Sins, one way or another. But it still didn't help them against the man himself, and if his children were so powerful, how the hell were they supposed to fight against the man that made them?With these dark thoughts cluttering her mind, she fell asleep once more. The next day brought a surprise with it.Ari woke up early, an unpleasant feeling pulling her out of her dreams as a not unfamiliar homunculus made his way into town – the Fuhrer, it seemed, had arrived. And... Was coming toward them? Uneasiness welled up, and she called her siblings, soon alerting the household to the approaching threat. Everyone continued on their daily activities in order not to arise any suspicious, but all were tensed, and ready to fight for their life if needed."Hi!" Ed couldn't help but stare at the Fuhrer that was patiently waiting on their door-step, a basket of fruits in hand "I brought a get well present, I heard your sister was sick!""How did you...""Well I heard in South City that you had been a great help to them last year, and that your teacher was a resident of Dublith.""That would be me." Izumi confirmed "Please stop blocking the door and let our guest enter Ed." The teenager nodded dumbly, a bit out of his depth with how surreal the situation felt. A few moments latter, King Bradley was drinking tea with the Curtis around the small kitchen table. Ed was pretty sure he'd been mistakenly sent into a parallel universe somewhere along the day and hadn't noticed until now... "You've done a good job with those siblings," the Fuhrer was praising "They are among our best elements.""Are they?" Izumi's smile had gained even more of a predatory quality ever since she became a fox chimera "It's good that they're making themselves useful.""With three brilliant pupils as them, how is it that you never took the National Exam?" the man wondered "It would be our country's honor to have such a skilled alchemist as you in our ranks." Ed winced at the question – and knowing their teacher as he did could see the barely noticeable temper mark on her brow.He was impressed with how well she was repressing her famous temper."Oh, don't flatter me, I'm just a housewife." a sweet, dangerous smile "But I'm sure you didn't travel here only to try and recruit me under the pretense of seeing my darling apprentices?""Of course not!" the other man laughed loudly "But what can I do, I am the leader of this country, it would have been shameful not to take advantage of the situation, wouldn't it?""Of course, of course." Ed sweat-dropped a bit at the curiously intense chat between Teacher and Fuhrer – to think Ari didn't believe Al and him when they said that woman was scary! Here she was calmly refusing the Fuhrer personal request of entering the military – the same ruthless Fuhrer that had led their country from one bloody victory to another ever since he was inducted..."Anyway, you're here to see Ari, aren't you?" a smile "Please follow me." Soon they were in the siblings room, Ari and Al idly talking, the boy having found himself a place beside his sister in the bed and both visibly working on some alchemy formula or another."You should really be resting rather than working," Ed couldn't help but protest – despite knowing the protest that would come"But I'm bored!""Well then you shouldn't have gone and gotten sick!" he retorted easily – before remembering why he was in the room "And you've got a guest." Ari and Al, even thought they had known the man was in the house, still felt as dumbfounded as Ed at the sight of the Fuhrer with his "get well" basket of fruits in hand."Here!" he plopped the basket in the girl hands, who automatically thanked him while he found a place on the nearest chair "I can't believe I haven't seen any of you since you went through the exam!" "Well," Ed couldn't help but point out "You're the Fuhrer, your job is quite busy and we weren't in Central City all that often.""True, true, thought I've heard you've been posted there recently?""We have." Ari confirmed "The colonel has been posted there, and since we're part of his team...""Ah yes, colonel Roy Mustang. That was quite a risky move from him, sponsoring you when you were so young." "Well, he thought we were older at first, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered. Some kind of misfiling from the Recruiting Department, I think. Then he decided that our age didn't matter since our skills were more than sufficient.""That they were." the Fuhrer agreed "Even if the jury was a bit doubtful about your respect for authority since all three of you attacked them, and me during your performance.""Well wanting us to show of our skills in an empty arena was a bit useless." Ari shrugged "They should change that part of the exam.""Ah but all State Alchemists aren't always on the field like you three are." "True enough, I guess." Ari mused "But then again, they should be ready for it if they enter the military. After all, weren't all of the State Alchemists sent out in the field during the Ishvalian conflict?""Ah, yes, Order 3066. You disagree with it?""Honestly?" Ari asked rhetorically, before surprising her brothers with her answer "Yes and no." The Fuhrer too seemed surprised by her answer "Oh? Do explain! Most people are either completely against it and too afraid to admit it in my face, or agree with it.""Becoming a State Alchemist means being part of the military, so of course we should be ready to be used as weapon of war. What I regret is that State Alchemist are only military... There should be some kind of civilian division of the State Alchemists for all those old geezers working in laboratories. Those people are useful as State Alchemist, but putting them out in the field..." she snorted "Useless!"Bradley was looking at her, thoughtful "You did think about it a lot." "I did." she nodded "After all, we're from Rosembool, we saw what war is when we were young and understand it better than people that live in more peaceful regions. I understand the need for fighters in a country, but I also understand the fact that not everyone is born to fight, and that fighters alone don't make a nation."The talk went on on the same serious vein for a while – and even if they didn't say anything, all thee of the siblings were surprised to see how genuinely interested the man was in their opinion. Ed suddenly understood better why Ari had insisted on watching the man first – they had forgotten, with their near death experience that even if they weren't humans, the homunculus were living being too, each different from the other.The Fuhrer wasn't only a non-human creating bloodshed throughout the country – he also was a highly intelligent man, who knew how to listen to opinions that differed from his if they were constructed enough, and had invested decades of his life in shaping their country.That was a disconcerting realization – even if it shouldn't have been, after all, hadn't Greed fled from Father, thus proving that the Sins did each have their own personality? "You know," the Fuhrer was saying, glancing at his watch "I've heard about your duel with colonel Mustang in East City..."The girl blushed – and Ed barely refrained a derogatory comment against the pedophile bastard that was their superior officer. "We should do something like that in Central City one of these days!" the leader of their nation enthusiastically declared "We can't let people stationed in Central become rusty! And a good spar is always refreshing!"The fiery glint in the old man's only eye was far too familiar to Ed and Al.This time, the eldest Elric sibling couldn't help but protest "he's just like them Al! Another fighting freak!" "Just because you can't see the beauty in a fight between two skilled opponent doesn't mean we are freaks." his sister haughtily retorted"Then it's decided! We'll do something like this when you're back to Central!" another glance at his watch "Eh, I should go. I escaped during the visit of the nearest military base, my guards must be wondering where I am by now."With that, the Fuhrer was leaving – by the first-floor window. "That," Al deadpanned "was strange.""The enemy seems far more human, suddenly." Ed muttered "I don't like it at all... but its good...""Because with these talks about getting rid of Father's forces, we were forgetting that we were talking about killing." added Al "Just because they aren't human doesn't mean they aren't...humans...""They are still living, sentient beings with emotion, even if somewhat unbalanced." Ari nodded, happy about her brothers needed awakening callThey weren't assassins like her - they shouldn't speak so easily about killing people, be they homunculus. At least now they remembered - and even if it would made it harder on them as they fought against Father, it also meant that they wouldn't become as hardened toward death and battle as she was. "Still, one thing is clear." Ed sighed "Just like we already knew, killing that man without any explanation is going to make our country implode even if we do manage to get rid of Father." he frowned "He may be a war-mongering leader, but he's a leader nonetheless... One that's bizarrely caring about the country for all that he's plotting it's destruction..."That's why we've got Roy and his team." Ari answered serenely"What do you..." "Well, we've always been out on the field during all those years, but what do you think the colonel and his men were doing behind their desks?""Oh." Al understood suddenly "They've been working on the aftermath of Promise Day, haven't they?""They have." Ari nodded "The plan is somewhere along the lines of declaring that the Fuhrer died a hero in the line of duty, killed by a nasty terrorist. Then the same terrorist will be brought down by all of us..." "Boosting even more the bastard, and our reputation. With that the post of Fuhrer will fall into his laps.""Well probably not that easily, he's not high enough in the ranks quite yet... But whomever is nominated before him will have to give him a promotion.""And then, he'll be high enough.""Exactly." Ed sighed "You do realize he'll be unbearable once he's Fuhrer, don't you? I mean he's already an arrogant bastard, and he's still only a colonel!"Al and Ari laughed at the depressed face their brother was sporting. ¤.¤.¤ "Here it is Roy-boy."The colonel didn't even protest the nick-name, knowing it would be useless – Madam Christmas would only do as it pleased her, like always – instead he merely opened the file she had slide toward him from across the empty bar."Well," he finally sighed "looks like we've found one more, and it's the nation favorite child." "I must admit I didn't expect anything to come out of this investigation when asked me to dig around the Fuhrer a bit but this... This is only the largest of a string on incoherence all more suspicious one than the other." the old woman said "I know something fishy is going on, Roy-boy, I've known for years, but this...""This is dangerous." nodded the colonel "And it'll only grow even more dangerous. This is why I asked you to be ready to leave town.""You won't get rid of me without explaining anything to me, child, you should know this." Roy sighed.Of course he knew – Chris Mustang was one of the few people able to go against him and win, but well, that was to be expected. She did, after all, raise him in stead of his deceased parents.And so, he told her the truth of what was going on without touching the subject of Ari's powers and past. After all, the woman was shrewd and intelligent, and was the one that taught him the art of spying – she would understand. "I see." she finally whispered as he finished fleshing out what was going on in their country "And of course, rather than getting the hell out of here you're trying to save the whole fucking country." a sigh "I raised you to be a good man, Roy-boy, but I don't want it to cause your death." "Then I just have to win." he stated, as if it was that easy – it wasn't, they both knew, but they also knew he'd do his damn best anyway"Do that." she instructed with a glare that couldn't really hide her concern "I'll have the girls out of the country by the end of the year.""And you?""I'm not abandoning you, child." she forcefully stated "I didn't when my brother died, I didn't when you took that damn Exam, and I won't now!" He couldn't help but smile at the answer, not having expected anything else. "Now that the serious topics are out of the way, tell me... who is she?"This time he was surprised, and thought he hid it well, he didn't fool the woman that had raised him up "Don't look at me like that, brat, don't you think I've noticed the only girls you're taking out now are mine? So, who is she? The one that somehow made you settle down and that I still haven't seen?" Somehow he doubted that explaining that he had realized he had feelings for his not yet fourteen year old subordinate would cut it – Madam Christmas would kill him, he was pretty sure of it. Explaining that he remembered the girl as an adult woman and of course wouldn't touch her before she was older probably wouldn't cut it either.He was doomed.Doing the only thing his survival instincts were instructing him to, he fled. "Ah I've still got it!" his adopter mother laughed, alone in the empty pub "You can run, Roy-boy, I'll still get it out of you!" and even if he didn't talk, she didn't have the best informant network of Central City for nothing, did she? In his car, already heading to his home, the colonel shuddered.Maybe fleeing hadn't been the best of his idea, in hindsight. ¤.¤.¤ "So," whispered Havoc, looking at the opened door between the colonel's office and theirs' "What's wrong with him? This isn't his usual 'I miss WindBlade' attitude, this is even worse!""I don't know." admitted Riza with a frown "Let me investigate." With that, she entered the office "Here!" she caught the file her oldest friend had sent her "I went to Madam Christmas yesterday."Just like that, everything was suddenly clearer "So, what did you say when she asked you about your lack of dates?"He whitened, and looked around him cautiously.Riza sighed. "So you ran.""I didn't run! I just temporary retreated...""You ran. And now you're afraid of her retribution." a sigh "You know you shouldn't have done that.""I realized it too late. And even then, what was I supposed to say?" he protested "She'd roast me alive!" Riza rolled her eyes – it always amazed her how any rational thinking seemed to flee the man when it came to his adopted mother - and him gaining another life's memories certainly hadn't changed that. With the mystery resolved, she walked back into the office where the rest of the team was impatiently waiting for her."Don't worry," she smiled "He's just afraid of what his mother figure is going to do to him once she finds out about WindBlade."The team laughed – but wondered what kind of woman had raised their officer into what he was. After all, no ordinary woman could have produced the strange man that was Roy Mustang.Then it was back to work, and Riza dived into the latest information Madam Christmas had unearthed for them. Without surprise, most of the Fuhrer's background story was false – the address for his deceased parents a military ground, the school he was supposed to have gone to long since abandoned, and so on. No true traces of the man's existence could be found before he suddenly appeared in the military at twenty-one and stared his rapid ascension through the ranks.But what was more surprising was the identity of another homunculus laying innocently in the file – in the form of several old pictures, all depicting the same boy. Selim Bradley, the long awaited son of King Bradley, and most beloved child in the nation was an homunculus – and probably the unknown homunculus that had been roaming around Central City.Riza sighed.Selim's death would be nearly as bad as his father's for the nation's stability. She was finishing reading Madam Christmas' file when Maes barged in.This wasn't unusual by any mean – ever since they'd finished moving in their new office, the man had been a regular fixture, dropping by at any hour for real or invented pretenses – making Riza wonder if Ed hadn't been right when he affirmed that the colonel's laziness had probably infected his whole class at the academy. "Good morning! Roy, boy, you look far too jumpy for this glorious day!""Stop hugging me, Maes! What the hell are you doing here?""Maybe I just wanted to see my best friend?" the familiar noise of fingers snapping to ignite something echoed "No no no, don't do this Roy!""What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" "No need to be so mean." the other pouted, before answering more seriously "I've just got news from my investigation squad from the East. Apparently Scar isn't as dead as we previously believed.""No real surprise there.""An anonymous informant told us he was hiding in the refugee camps, which was true, but he managed to flee. We think he's got the informant, a former military that fled after some kind of bribe scandal in some East mining town, and a small Xingese-looking girl, as hostages." Roy frowned. "Where are they fleeing?""North, apparently."Far, far away from the Elric siblings. The colonel sighed, this was good."I've already alerted Fort Briggs.""Then what's the problem?"Maes frowned, giving his best friend a small strip of telegraph message. "Apparently someone in Central already knew of Scar's escape, and sent someone to track him in the North. Someone not from my Investigation department." the frown deepened "Someone that should still be rotting in the deepest level of the military prison."Roy felt wariness rising at the anger clearly audible in Maes' voice – there weren't a lot of people capable of provoking such anger from the rather joyful man, and most of them fell into two categories: those plotting to bring the country down during the Promised Day, and the monsters born in the flames of the Ishvalian war. ¤.¤.¤ "The Crimson Alchemist has been released."He had spoken too soon - this was not good. Both Riza and Roy's eyes darkened, Maes irruption into their office suddenly so much more understandable.After all, that man, Soft J. Kimblee, had been one of those people that had thrived in the chaos and destruction born from the Ishvalian war. When the Flame Alchemist had been, in spite of his protests, hailed a hero by his fellow soldiers on the front, Kimblee had been at the other hand of the spectrum, a master of alchemy-created explosions that left no survivors behind, be them rebels, civilians, or even soldiers fighting under his orders. With the end of the war, he had been judged in front of the martial court, and confined in a high-security cell, just like the beast he was.That man had killed any and all that fell in front of his eyes, and professed no remorse for it.He had been one more proof, in Roy's eyes, that something was rotten in his country... Roy frowned again.Kimblee wasn't the sort of man that changed in prison, there was no way he'd been freed for behaving himself and expressing remorse for his acts. No the weapon of war had been drawn by someone for a reason, and Scar probably was but a pretext.The question was – what was so important at Fort Briggs that the Crimson Alchemist was needed there? A quick background check on the region coupled with the human transmutation schematics acquired by the Elric siblings in the Fifth Laboratory was more than enough for the colonel to have an hypothesis. Fort Briggs was the most northern fort in the country, host of regular skirmishes with the Drachman military – but thanks to the iron-gloved hands of its General those skirmishes had drastically reduced in number.Blood.There wasn't enough blood being shed in the north for the nation-wide circle – this was why they had released the Crimson Alchemist; and this was why he had to be stopped.But – but his usual response team was at the other side of the country, the WindBlade herself bedridden. "First lieutenant Hawkeye, second lieutenant Havoc, you're heading North to apprehend the fugitive, former first lieutenant Yoki of the mining city Youswell. He is still wanted to be tried in court martial." the two of them nodded "You'll report every twenty-four hours via telephone once you're at Fort Briggs. FullMetal and EarthBreaker will meet you there as fast as they can.""Yes, colonel." "Drop by my house tonight, I've got the old reports on the fugitive there." he turned toward the rest of his team "You know how to work to relay information to a field team, get to it!"A few hours later, Riza and Havoc were at Roy's door, Black Hayate in tow."You'll take care of him when I'm gone?""Of course, sorella." a smile "Come in." Two masks were waiting on the kitchen's counter near a pile of black clothing and other such attire "You're the Queen, sorella, Havoc will have the Knight." Riza nods along, not surprised at the choice "Just like Alpha, Fox and Cat's masks, it'll hide your voice." She observed the mask, and it's not insignificant bonus of +2 Agility, +1 Strength – Leon's work was excellent, like always."Stealth clothes." he explained in front of the pile of black clothes - there again, no surpriseA jar of dark material "Hair concealer." Riza winced – her blond hair were easily noticeable, she knew it well, but concealer always was a bitch to get out of it, she remembered that well from Ishval Roy looked at her seriously "Don't take unnecessary risks, Scar can deconstruct anything he lands his left hands on and you remember Kimblee."She did – and her colonel, her brother went on "You know how Kimblee fight, and the two brothers have improved a lot since our fight against Scar. Stay alive and come home, all of you."With that, his subordinates were off, and he was left home to worry. Going out and shooting first, asking questions later was much easier than holding the commanding position, Roy mused– he had never wanted to be more than a hit man in his first life, for the freedom it gave him rather than by lack of skill for anything more. When his memories came back in this life, it was too late – he'd already took charge and had people following him, he couldn't just stop in his tracks; and he didn't really want to.He was still a mafioso at heart, and he couldn't abandon his Famiglia after all... He just missed the freedom of not being the one in charge. With that, he relaxed in his living room, a glass of alcohol in one hand, nonchalantly accessing Ari's latest message with the other.He really shouldn't be surprised that the girl he loved somehow managed to have a friendly chat with the man leading their country, and a challenge from said man for a fight in Central City, yet he still was.It really was no wonder that Chaos had taken such a liking to her – he couldn't take his eyes of her for a few hours without some kind of life changing event happening! With that, he started to write back to his bambina, not forgetting a suitably insulting side-note for her brothers. XI: End of summer 1914 Ed peered out at the train's window at the landscape that was finally turning white – the ride had been one of the longest they ever took, and both Al and him acutely felt the absence of their two sisters. Still, orders were orders, despite Ed's loud protests. At least, they hadn't needed to waste any time by changing their automail, since the array Ari had devised to venture into the desert would do its job just as well in the cold, maintaining their automail at their body temperature. As they arrived in the northern railway-station in the middle of a snow storm that had nearly forced the train to stop before arriving, the sight of Riza's familiar silhouette, and another, far less familiar silhouette of a tall, tan-skinned man wearing tinted glasses and the winter uniform commonly used in the north. "FullMetal, EarthBreaker." Noting the formal greeting, they answered in kind "First lieutenant Hawkeye." "This is Major Miles," the sniper introduced "he is major general Armstrong's personal adjutant." "Your C.O. Sent a letter to general Armstrong," the silver-haired man informed them while walking toward a car equipped for cold temperatures "she is waiting for you." Ed sent an interrogative glance toward Riza, wondering what was happening, but didn't worry too much – if it was something important she would have informed them in her previous messages. "Here," two files were held out to Al and him "the files on Scar's latest viewing, description of his possible hostages..." "or accomplices..." major Miles interrupted calmly "Or accomplices," she reluctantly agreed "and the Crimson Alchemist's file." After several minutes spent speeding through their reading, both brothers shared an appalled glance "They let this mad-man out of his cage?" Ed whispered He may already know about the colonel's theory – that was looking more and more likely by the minute – it still didn't make it any less shocking to read that man's file. No wonder the bastard had insisted on acting fast... "You know, I get why Kimblee's here," Al muttered as their vehicle came to a stop "But Scar... Why did he head out north? From what I know there aren't any State Alchemist stationed here." A loud laugh echoed at this affirmation and the man that was walking up to them in the blizzard answered loudly "We don't need pansy State Alchemists here!" he proclaimed "We need true warriors!" he continued, proudly exhibiting his large, weaponized automail Al sighed, already seeing his brother's temper meting down under the cutting words – yet surprisingly, the eldest Elric didn't burst in anger, calmly answering "I see. True warrior like you I'd gather?" he rhetorically asked, blatantly seizing up the man, before snorting and turning away, clearly dismissing him, Tempesta mimicking him with her own contemptuous glare "My god..." Al whispered to Riza, absentmindedly petting Paws, that was hidden within his coat and looking enviously at the fox, whose heavy fur coat was a much better protection for this weather than his own "I think his ability to annoy people just evolved..." Riza barely held back a snort – but couldn't help but agree as the tall man seemed to boiled at being looked down upon like that and jumped toward Ed's back, automail ready to attack. Except that, of course, with Ed's ability to piss people off, also came the much needed ability to know when he was attacked nearly before it even happened. He may not have Ari's bloodthirsty fighting instinct, but his survival instinct probably was the best out of the four siblings. He dodged the heavy metal arm easily, grabbing it with his hands – clapping to activate a simple array, only for it not to have any reaction. "Not steel then." he easily understood, remembering Winry's rant about cold temperatures and automail care "No matter." Twisting his body around, using the hand still grabbing on the other's automail, he propelled himself behind him, nearly simultaneously transmuting his arm into a short blade while sending one of his throwing knives right into the metallic arm's joints, effectively disabling it – and making the already furious man nearly rabid. "Yeah, real man and pansy alchemist." he commented, blade under the man's throat "I can see that." The other nearly try to attack again despite the blade threatening him – but then, a cold, authoritative voice rang out "Stand down, captain. You've lost." "I can still take him on, general!" the tall, heavy-built man stammered "You stupidly underestimated him and lost, Bucaneer." the feminine voice contradicted calmly, as a tall, regal looking blond woman appeared, looking barely concerned by the snow storm raging around them "So, you're Mustang's little pets." "Don't mistake predators for tamed beasts." warned Ed calmly, stepping back from the defeated man and calling back his knife with a thought "You won't like the consequences." Tempesta stopped licking her paws to yip her agreement - and even the fact that she hadn't even deigned help Ed in the fight was telling, even if the tall defeated man didn't know it. The woman laughed, the sound wild and genuine "Well, you'll fit in right in with this kind of attitude!" she turned around, clearly ordering them to follow – which they did, the captain slower than most thanks to his malfunctioning arm hampering him And out of the blizzard, Fort Briggs finally appeared. The two brothers' eyes widened at the enormous, impossibly high and heavily armored walls – the northern most border of their country, the bastion between Amestris and Drachma. The last bloody circle to be carved into their country for Father's nefarious plans. ¤.¤.¤ "Here, everyone has to work to earn their keep." Miles was explaining as they headed toward the general's office "And so will you." a nod at Riza, and Havoc that had joined them somewhere along the walk "Those two already do too." "What kind of job?" He smiled, secretly amused "You'll see soon enough." "Our job's to clean the ice of the pipes and walls. Those things are a bloody calamity!" Havoc explained animatedly "clean them out one day, back the next with this fucking weather!" "They are a serious problem for the Fort." Riza explained in a more sedated tone – while she didn't like doing a job that should be that of a new recruit, she did understand its importance "A breaking stalactite can easily kill an unlucky man walking by, and if not cleared from the pipes, they would break under the weight." "And since there's no miracle solution against ice, everyone has to take his turn on the job." Miles explained "Don't think we're only doing this because you're outsiders." "Well, you're still taking advantage of our presence to free your men from the task." Havoc pointed out "They have their use elsewhere. You don't." "You don't know that." Al contradicted "I mean lieutenant Hawkeye is a weapon specialist, so putting her on cleaning duty is a bit of a waste. If you must make us work, why not making us work usefully?" Riza was thorn between agreeing and wincing. While Al was right, she knew well enough where people like her, and the two brothers would be sent if his proposition was heard – the front. And while she would do it if needed, she had no desire to fight and kill again, nor any wish to see the two brothers, already far too jaded as they were for kids so young, discovering first hand the hell that was the battlefield. "Responsibilities are given to trusted people." the white-haired major answered "That's why." Ed was seemingly ready to protest – then stopped himself. "Hn. Not like you've got any reason to trust us I guess." he admitted with a shrug "Still, don't know how we're suppose to earn that while sweeping the floor." Miles wasn't given the time to answer, as they had reached their destination. "So the bastard's trying to make me believe he's sending a team of four in my turf just to find some kind of run-away low-life?" Ed and Al carefully controlled their initial reaction of fear – that woman was terrifying; in a position authority, in a region that was peaceful only in name and knowing it well. They weren't in friendly territory anymore and weren't used to it – they may have spent years traveling the East, and South, they had mainly been involved in small scale rebellion in the agitated territories, not outright war. And there was no mistake to it – even if peace was the official state in the north, they were in a war zone. Al was suddenly really thankful for those training session from hell that had helped them become much more used to killing intent than they had been, and their own teacher's demonic personality. Otherwise he'd have been petrified by the woman and would have spilled any and all secrets in front of her – which was probably what she was aiming for. Still, even if they weren't there to share all their secrets, it was clear enough that she would hinder them in any way she could as long as she wasn't satisfied about their true intent for being there. "You've already received colonel Mustang's mission order." Riza pointed out "And this thing is shit." the general answered coldly "I'm not going to let idiots from Central fool around in my base just on that bastard's say so!" "Ah yes, taking your anger out on us easy target while you're obliged to cater to the real problem." Ed smiled indulgently Al winced. There it was again – somehow he was wondering if this new evolution of his brother's natural ability to make people want to throttle him wasn't going to be even more dangerous for him... Thankfully, while anger was clear in her eyes, the blond woman was also more in control of her temper than her subordinate and simply smiled – Al shuddered at the familiar, predatory rictus, only seen up until now on Teacher and Ari's face. "You know, it's really funny how fast you were sent here, and that just after the explosive maniac was freed and sent up here. So, what's your problem with him?" "No problem at all." Ed smiled "Why would we have a problem with our Fuhrer's personal envoy? After all, we're loyal Amestrians." General Armstrong's eyes glinted, as she took the clue in the way it was intended "Major Miles, now that I think about it the Crimson Alchemist is still fairly new to the North, we should be good hosts and ensure he doesn't get lost, shouldn't we?" "I'll organize it." said major agreed easily The woman's focus went back on the Central team "You know, if anyone was to imply that the Fuhrer's personal envoy was a traitor to the country, one would have to wonder how it is possible for the Fuhrer not to know it..." "We're lucky no one said anything like that then." Ed smiled "After all, it's just like you said, our country would have to worry if it's own leader was to turn against it." Al refrained from shooting a surprised look toward his brother – even without saying anything clear, he was still revealing a lot to the general in front of them. "This would be the kind of country where any high ranking officer disagreeing with the core of power would be sent out of the capital city just to be kept out of the way." Riza idly noted, gaining the group's attention "A bit like let's say if general Grumman was approached on a secret project, then sent to the East just after he emitted any doubt about it." a smile "But of course, this is just hearsay, I wouldn't know anything about it." "Of course." Ed nodded seriously "We have been working in the East for years after all, we wouldn't know anything about what's going on with Central's brass. Even if general Grumman is in charge of our district..." Al was impressed by his brother's quick reaction – especially since this tidbit about general Grumman was new to him, ad as such, to Ed too. They would have to ask more about it to Riza later, it seemed like the colonel may had uncovered some new information about Father's plan... ¤.¤.¤ His train of thoughts was abruptly cut as something new suddenly came to his senses. "Brother!" he interrupted urgently "There's a Sin here!" Ed, Riza and Havoc eyes widened at the affirmation, all going for their weapon on instinct – just as alarm was sounded, and running steps were heard trough the nearest gangway "We're under attack general! It came from underground!" The woman was already up, menacingly looming toward Al "You! How did you know about this! Are you with..." "We're not with them!" Ed shouted, finally loosing his calm "Don't be stupid, our first reaction wouldn't be to fight if we were! We've trained in Xingese martial arts and alkahestry, it helps us feel people around us." "And that thing." "And that thing." Al shuddered "We can't just barge in on it, it won't do any good!" "What do you mean?" she asked already setting a fast pace toward the attacks direction "Consider them as literally immortals." Ed grumbled "Those we've seen each had different abilities... toughened skin, nearly instantaneous regeneration, cutting length-shaping nails, general shape-shifting..." "As long as their core isn't depleted, they'll stay alive." Al added "And there's no telling where their core is." "And," Riza completed as they neared the fighting zone "you never heard anything about this from us and you have no idea about these things. You don't want to attract attention to you knowledge about this, trust me." The general snorted; she wouldn't trust them, not without reason, but she'd keep what they said in mind – because they looked far too serious, and worried for the situation to be anything but risky. If there was one thing she trusted in, it was her ability to read people's reactions. And she had a Fort and its soldiers to protect. The lowest levels of the building were far different from the higher ones in that this was the core of the Fort – the place where the most important system was kept: the heating system; the one thing keeping the hundreds of people living in the fort from freezing to death within a few hours during the worst of winter. When the monster had rushed out from the ground, revealing a large tunnel which they couldn't see the end of, he'd teared three of the main pipes, severely compromising the base working order. The general frowned as she noted that, then took her attention back to the on-going fight. If it could be called that, one-sided as it was. A tall, bulky grotesque figure, overly muscular and without a spark of intelligence in the eyes – that was the enemy. He was barely defending himself, sweeping the soldiers out of his way in a careless manner while muttering about a job to finish, and how troublesome he found the whole situation to be. "I'll give you two guesses about which sin he's supposed to be, and the first two don't count." Ed whispered to Al as they grimly noted that nothing seemed to go through the monster's thick hide Al didn't even bother answering, focused on finding a way to help out – and really, with the way the creature was complaining about wanting to sleep, Sloth wasn't all that hard to identified. "He's getting into the Development Section!" a man loudly warned The tall homunculus finally was getting annoyed with the flies fluttering around him and one large hand wrenched out a large pipe from the wall and threw it toward a group of men busy arming a Gatling. "Ed!" "On it!" Al jumped toward the group, hands clapping and a wall of dirt rose in front of them, deflecting the improvised weapon, while Ed had jumped in the opposite way, throwing knives in hands "What do you think you're going to do with these!" a nearby soldier protested "Guns don't work against him!" Ed's grin wasn't bloodthirsty in the way Ari was, but it wasn't far behind as complicated arrays ignited off the blades crafted by their sister and, with a loud band and far more velocity than they should have, flew toward their target, deeply gouging into the homunculus shoulder – the first wound they'd even managed to land on him since he'd appeared. Except the wound was already closing around the knives, even if they reopened said wound when Ed called them back to him. Ed and Al shared a grim look. Sloth was making Envy seems like an easy opponent. Then, the growling sound of a heavy tank rolling toward them was heard, as general Armstrong loudly ordered everyone to get out of the way. "The Development Section won't disappoint you, general!" the man driving the prototype vowed "Fire!" ¤.¤.¤ The first shot hit the homunculus in the face, taking half of it with him and making it protest "Being in pain is troublesome!" The second shot was aimed toward the body – and under everyone's horrified eyes, the inhuman being simply caught it, getting projected a few meters back but not even scratched while his face was already healed. The volley of fire following did little more than annoy the homunculus, but gave enough time to let Al and Ed regroup. "You know," Al mused, eyes focused on the being that seemed to be trying to get back to the hole it came from "Forgetting about Envy's monstrous appearance, homunculus are supposedly made with the human body as a basis." "Which means that even if they have superhuman powers, their body composition still is the same." Ed followed his thoughts "Which means..." "Even if we can't kill him, incapacitating him should be doable." Al nodded "That's it we're freezing the bastard!" Ed's smile grew sharper as his mind ran ahead with calculations "It may be cold outside but we're in the warmest place of the Fort!" his brother contradicted "It won't be that easy." "You're a prodigy at water alchemy, don't tell me you don't see a way to convert all the steam leaking from the heat system into it's opposite?" "I guess if I combine water and air alchemy..." answered Al, thinking about it "Dual alchemy isn't supposed to be done in the spur of the moment! It requires testing!" "No time for this." Ed waved away his protest "I'll get rid of his body heat and use it to feed the heat system while fixing it and you freeze his ass!" "Alright, alright!" Al snapped, stressed out by the daring plan – but not seeing any other solution With that, the two brothers were jumping toward the homunculus that had nearly made its way back toward the tunnel it was digging – Ed swiftly drawing a complicated array on the pipes that had been thorn open, before rushing toward Sloth and slapping the other half of the array he'd thought up on his back. Within seconds, the homunculus' movement grew more sluggish, as his body lost the heat necessary for it to function properly, and Al was activating his own array at it's feet, the warm steam that had rushed out of the broken pipes sucked out of the air and condensing into a cold column centered around the homunculus. Finally, Sloth froze, not able to move anymore. "Well," Ed commented, dusting himself after finishing fixing the large pipes "That's done with." As if only waiting for his comment, an onslaught of notifications appeared [Hidden Quest Complete! Hold the line! You've stopped Sloth's rampage in Fort Briggs! Reward: +250XP, Wardrobe System unlocked Bonus goal 1 complete! You managed to stop Sloth before the fort's staff sustained any casualty Bonus reward: +350XP, +5 Ice affinity Bonus goal 2 complete! You helped with the Fort reparations Bonus reward:+350XP, +5 Ice affinity] [Secondary Affinity skills unlocked! You can now develop affinity with combined elements on top of primary one, For example an Ice Affinity would previously be calculated thus (Water+Air)/4 and will now be calculated thus (Ice+(Water+Air)/4) note that Secondary Affinity are very slow growing skill, progressing four time slower than a normal skill] Of course, he'd spoken a bit too fast – while the homunculus wouldn't break free as long as nobody messed with the arrays the two brothers had inscribed, they still had an angry general to deal with. "Secure the area, don't touch that thing but keep an eye on it!" the blond woman was harshly snapping while stomping toward them "What the hell was this thing! And how the fuck did you stop it?" "Like we said earlier," Riza stressed, while coming back from where she'd been helping the shooters "we have no idea about what this was." "We just supposed it's make-up was human and used this to stop him. Right now, he's just frozen in place with an ice array." Al added "Should he thaw, the problem would be intact." "I'm sure any other question you have can be asked later," Ed continued "in your office." The tall blond woman still looked furious, but seemed to decide to take on the eldest brother suggestion, and turned her back to them, barking orders around in order to get the place back into working order as fast as possible – and soon as soon as the general took notice of the reparation Ed had done, they were enrolled to help fix the homunculus' damages. Soon enough, the large hole in the ground was all that was left of the Sin's incursion in the fort, and the Armstrong woman was giving orders to investigate the dark tunnel, under the group from Central worried glances. If, like they had recently realized, Father was crafting his array under the surface, then this was probably it – and anyone entering would risk facing another homunculus. The general of the northern fort seemed to have come to a similar conclusion, as she instructed the out-going team to act carefully and discretely, but they feared it wouldn't be enough. ¤.¤.¤ If she hadn't been bed-ridden, Ari would probably be pacing. While she had known that she couldn't always be by her brothers' side, the idea that the two boys were heading into danger at the other side of the country without her wasn't sitting well with her, even if she couldn't do anything about it. For now. And it wasn't like she didn't understand why they had to leave without her – right now she wasn't in any state to travel, and Maes' news about Kimblee was worrying enough that it had to be acted upon as fast as possible. But it was still the first time they had been apart for any length of time, and she hadn't expect it to be so painful. Ana, her dog's pack instinct acting up, didn't like the situation anymore than her, but was happy that Ari was still with her, and spending time with her – and even if Al was better than her sister at explaining her lessons, she didn't complain, too happy that at least one of her family members was still here. The two sisters were spending a lot of time with Izumi Curtis, the alchemy master impressed by how much Al had already taught their youngest sibling, and learning a bit more about Ari's past while they spent their afternoon alternatively debating alchemical theories and talking about any topic that caught their fancy. Somehow, day after day, Ariana found herself talking about her previous lifes and how she had found herself cast as the youngest goddess around with her teacher – and then, about Chaos' Game. As such, she was barely surprised when, sometime during their talks, the woman's eyes widened, as elegant green letters materialized before her eyes in a way that would soon become familiar. And, because where Izumi was, her husband followed, Chaos' Game gained two new players at once. While impressed by the strange new gift, Mr Curtis, down to earth like always, didn't really need it – he was a butcher, after all, and as such he considered it more like a fancy gadget than anything else, and was more happy about the fact that it symbolized the trust Ari and her siblings had in them. Because they couldn't have a kid, and Izumi had always refused to adopt, considering herself unworthy of being a mother after her failed attempt at getting their stillborn child back, the Elric siblings were the closest the two Curtis had come to having children. Finally, Ed and Al arrived at Fort Briggs – and what an arrival it had been! And that night, the two brothers had sent her a long message detailing the events of the day – the impressive walls of the northern fort, the harshness of the people that maintained peace a well as they could on that border, and of course, the homunculus impromptu attack. She had been thorn between pride and worry at her siblings when she read about how they had neutralized Sloth, but was soon focusing on trading ideas with them to help them localize the Philosopher Stone that kept that monster alive. The best bet they had, loath as she was to admit it, was to refine Al's dragon pulse enough that he could not only feel the humunculus, but even feel precisely where the souls were bound in their body, just like she could. This wouldn't be easy for her brother, and there was no coming back from it – but she knew he could do it. Ari was also surprised at how fast Ed seemed to be ready to let the general Armstrong in on some of the knowledge they had, but knew that not only were her brother's instincts about people quite good, he also had a better view of the situation in the north than her, since she wasn't up there with them. ¤.¤.¤ As such, while her brothers focused on the situation in the north, Ari decided that rather than rush there as soon as she was on her feet, she'd spent a bit more time in Dublith, and take advantage of that time to start thinking about a way to help Ling. While it wasn't a top priority compared to saving their country, right now she couldn't do anything more to help the situation regarding the Promised Day. After all, she somehow doubted that either Roy or her siblings would approve of her aimlessly wandering Central City at night until she caught another homunculus. So helping Ling it was. Within ten minutes, she was ready to bang her head on a wall – or the prince's head. While under his shifty appearance there was no denying the political savvy mind, quick intelligence and elegant fighting skills of the Xingese, he knew nothing about medicine nor alkahestry, and it showed when she proceeded to ask for more details about the Emperor's state of health and what his healers had attempted. With what meager information the prince could provide, she would have an easier time helping him take the throne by force! Idly, she mused that she could have used a few of Mizuki's potions – there weren't a lot of illness that could resist to the wizarding world health potions. And it would give the aging emperor delusions of being back to full health even thought it would do nothing against aging – which was what Ling wanted. But she wasn't on Earth right now, and as such her best bet was to create something similar via alchemy, or more probably alkahestry. It would have been easier with precise knowledge about the man's condition, but some array could probably be crafted anyway. The problem was making said array work on the emperor, after all, while she did wish to visit Xing one day, she really couldn't afford to right now – except that an array needed an alchemist to become active, and whatever array she did craft would no doubt be much too complicated for someone that wasn't either her siblings, Roy or Teacher to activate. What she needed was a way to make an array that could be activated without being an alchemist – or maybe only the barest knowledge. She didn't even realized that her eyes had lightened up as she started thinking about the idea, and she was already composing a message to Roy, anxious to trade ideas with her fellow alchemist and husband. Of course, it wasn't as easy as it sounded – but that only made the challenge more interesting, and she was soon neck deep into complicated calculation and never seen before theories. If the item she wanted to make had been for another purpose, she could have easily enough mixed her godly powers with alchemy to create whatever she wanted – but Ariana, or rather Shadow, was goddess of Death and as such a healing item was quite simply out of her abilities. Given how opposed Life and Death were, she didn't have any natural talent or affinity for healing, no matter how much she regretted it... Soon enough, she found a promising idea – what she was coming to call Blood Alchemy. Using her innate knowledge of blood runes an rituals thanks to her Blood Art, and Roy, Teacher and her's vast grasp on alchemical theory, they had soon manage to blend the two into a new discipline that any skilled alchemist could use as long as he was taught to. The idea for this, of course, had been the blood lock on her own notes, and the one found on the alchemy laboratory of old Xerxes – clearly if something similar had already been done in this world, it wasn't impossible. The first successful blood circle was made within a few days, and the three Xingese used as test subject – Ariana had created a new variant of her diagnosis array, that once written could be activated by adding four drops of the patient's blood in one secondary circle and three drops of the doctor in another one. A wide smile was shared by the three Xingese and the two female alchemist at their first success, and a notification echoed it. [Personal Quest Activated! A new Philosopher! Goal: create and test one functional Blood Alchemy circle Bonus goal: have your circle tested by someone else than you Reward:+500XP per goal, "The Scarlet Philosopher" title unlocked upon completion Bonus goal reward: +750XP per goal, Teacher status unlocked upon completion] [Goal complete! +500XP Goal update: teach a blood circle to at least one other alchemist Bonus goal complete! +750XP Bonus goal update: teach a blood circle to several alchemists] [Goal complete! +500XP Goal update: get to rank 25 in Blood Alchemy Bonus goal complete! +750XP Bonus goal update: get other alchemists to rank 10 in Blood Alchemy] [Level up! You are now level 58! +2CP, +4SP] Ari's eyes widened as she suddenly gained four level, a new quest and skill – and as soon as every player of Chaos' Game was contacted, it appeared that her unlocking this new quest had unlocked other personalized quests for everyone else. Al was several goals in on his quest to become the Professor, spreading alchemy knowledge across the world, Roy was without any surprise well on his way to become Fuhrer, Winry's quest involved becoming a renowned automail mechanics, and so on... One positive effect those Personal Quests had, even if no one voiced it was that they were outlining long-term goal – letting them see a future beyond Promised Day, something that was sometime difficult to contemplate. ¤.¤.¤ In the aftermath of the homunculus attack, hiding anything from the fearsome general Armstrong had been a lost cause – her territory had been menaced, and the predatory woman was angry. Hearing about their hypothesis about why the Crimson Alchemist had been sent north propelled her from angry to seething – and they had won an ally. Because sure enough, she despised the colonel, but her view on the Central commanding idiots that wanted immortality and an invincible army were even worse – and hadn't that been a nasty shock for Ed and Al, to learn the scheme Grumman had disclosed to Mustang... To think their current country was facing the same fate as that of their father's because of the exact same reason. Still, they had come to an understanding with the fearsome general – they would work to earn their keep, as anyone in the fort under her rule, and she wouldn't hamper their work. And because Fort Briggs answered to Armstrong and no one else, if she said they had her blessing, no one would question them – her one stipulation was that major Miles would work with them. As said major was leading them toward the living quarters, their talk soon went to the unconventional loyalty the men had for their general – soon explained when the man removed his dark glasses, revealing red eyes beneath them. The Central team had been surprised, even if they suppressed it as much as they could "All of us have our reason for believing in the general." a smirk "After all there isn't a person in Fort Briggs that doesn't have anything to hide." the smirk disappeared as fast as it had appeared as he added in a darker tone "You've done quite a number on my ancestors' land, Amestrians." "Well we're from the East. You've burned our country and killed our best friends parents, Ishvalian." Ed retorted without a pause, Al nodding along To their surprise, the major laughed at their repartee "This is actually the first time someone answers me back!" he said while putting back his glasses "When people see this skin and eyes, they instantly draw back. As if being an Ishavalian was something to be pitied for or ashamed of." he shrugged "I'm not even really Ishvalian, only my grand-father was, but somehow the blood came out strong in me." they could guess at the darkening eyes hidden behind the glasses "I had just been assigned here when the purge started. All my relative in the East were killed, but I wasn't because I was Amestrian enough not to be killed..." "Yet you stayed in the military?" Al couldn't help but ask "I wanted to resign. I both hated the military and didn't want to stay and cause dissension. Yet the general kept me as her assistant, saying that she didn't care about blood, gender or age. This is Fort Briggs she said, where only the fittest survive." Ed nodded at that – one didn't need to have known the woman for long to understand that she lived by those words. "After that she offered to duel me one on one if I couldn't let go of my hatred for the military." "She would have done it and sliced you in two, at that." he couldn't help but grumble "She would have." the man agreed, somehow smiling at the affirmation As they put their gear away in the four bed room they had been given, Riza and Havoc updated them on the latest development on their assignment – Soft J Kimblee had arrived at fort Briggs the night before, heavily injured after an altercation with Scar. The Ishvalian had managed to escape and the alchemist recovery would take several weeks. Except that it hadn't. While they were busy battling Sloth, the Lieutenant General Raven had shown up in the military hospital where Kimblee was – and the man had been miraculously healed and was ready to track down Scar, refusing any help from Fort Briggs. "So they gave a Red Stone to that mad attack dog." Ed muttered, immediately coming the logical conclusion "Great." "Well, at least we're forewarned." Al pointed out with a sigh ¤.¤.¤ While it had been easy enough to play the brother's part into defeating the homunculus as merely quick thinking from them, hiding the attack itself hadn't been possible, and lieutenant general Raven had barged in the fort, proclaiming that the inhuman thing was in fact a chimera working for Central, and not a Drachma prototype, as Armstrong had professed they suspected, and that it needed to be put back in place. The tall, blond woman with ice blue eyes would have liked nothing more than to ignored the other general completely. Except that he was her superior in terms of rank, and his orders came from Central – and right now, being openly rebellious against the traitorous system would probably get her expelled from her territory without as much as a by your leave, her men put under a commander officer that would have no qualm about sacrificing them for his own immortality. So she bit her tongue on the insults she would have loved to hurl at the older general, instead steering him skillfully toward the conspiracy that she had just learned of. And making the man speak had been disgustingly easy, the female general having only to play on her supposed womanly and motherly instincts to make him spill it all. Ed, Al, Riza, Havoc and Miles, that were spying on her with a small team of specialists she had hand-picked, had a hard time not losing their serious as she acted. That general from Central really must have been stupid – or abhorrently sexist – to buy in that act. Womanly and motherly instincts? The general Amtrong had about as much of those as Ed... Scratch that – Ed at least was in his own way motherly with his siblings! Armstrong was anything but a woman afraid of growing old and ready to sacrifice her men for that. Sure, Briggs was the land of survival of the fittest, but it didn't mean that they abandoned their brothers in arms, on the contrary. Finally, between Fort Briggs leader's acting skills, and the two alchemists brothers blatant lying, the general was convinced that it would take several days to thaw his "chimera". The two brothers set to work immediately – not to free the homunculus, of course, but to dispose of it. Clearly, they had to appear to be thawing and freeing Sloth – so they had to find a way to trace and destroy him later on. Talking about the situation with the other alchemists that were available via Chaos' Game messaging system quickly made them come to one solution – the best solution to defeat the non-human would be to take out the Red Stone sustaining its life. For that, Al would have to improve his dragon pulse ability as much as he could, while Ed focused on finding a way to track the homunculus. The eldest Elric was getting frustrated, getting nowhere in his query – until Ari let it slip that she was working on merging her blood runes and alchemy on a level she never had before. That was all the help he needed – immediately asking her to sent over a copy of her notes, he went to work, having a break-through a few moments after a Personal Quest suddenly appeared in his notifications, along with the new Blood Alchemy skill. On the fifth morning, the two brothers, generals, and a few of Armstrong's men were in the tunnel, where the homunculus had already been placed, still frozen. Al and Ed approached the icy non-human, seemingly both working on unfreezing him – only Al really doing it, while Ed was placing his new tracking array on the Sin. They stepped back, letting lieutenant general Raven talk to the tall and slow being in loud and exaggeratedly pronounced words, telling him he had to get back to the work Pride had given him. And with a few powerful movement, the tall homunculus went back to the dead-end of the tunnel, and started to dig. As Sloth soon disappeared in the darkness, working inhumanly fast, they shared a glance in the back of the old man. "Well, general," sweetly smiled Mira Armstrong "Thanks for all your help." the fluid move with witch she unsheathed her weapon before impaling the man was so fast the two siblings would probably have missed it before they stepped up their training after the Scar debacle ¤.¤.¤ "Why ?" the man managed to ask as his blood smeared the ground "We offered you immortality!" "Why would I want anything offered by traitors that are using our whole country as their playground?" she sneered back at him, the depth of her scorn easy to read in her eyes Ed refrained from closing his eyes at the unpleasant scene. While he had never killed anyone, and had no desire to do so, he understood why she had done so – the man had served his use, relaying to Central how willing to work with them she was, and had been seen cooperating with them by the homunculus; right now he was nothing more than a hindrance. And according to the north's harsh rules, a useless man, an enemy at that, had no right to live. "None of you saw anything." the strong woman asserted "If I'm discovered by Central, I killed him alone. Understood?" A halfhearted acquiesment was her men only answer – and Ed would bet that none of them would let her take the fall alone if fall there was. "Lets get rid of this trash and get back to the Fort." she continued Eyeing the body a moment, Ed hesitated before visualizing the same circle his sister had used, years ago. With a clap, the corpse of lieutenant general Raven burst into flames. The elder Elric shared a glance with both Al and Riza, all three of them remembering the day they had met – ignoring the speculating look Mira Armstrong was throwing them, the intelligent woman knowing full well that while they had shared with her their knowledge of the nation-wide conspiracy it was far from their only secret. They were ready to get back up when they heard some noise in the darkened tunnel. With but a glance of their C.O., two of the general's men were heading ahead, their torches giving out a paltry light, that soon revealed three trembling men, visibly terrified out of their mind. "It's coming!" was muttering one of them "The eyes in the dark!" The three of them were covered in blood, and a few meters from them, were the scattered remains of the rest of their team. A few bits of equipment, and cut off humans parts. Even the battle-hardened veterans of the north eyes widened with revulsion. Whatever had done that, it had been even less human than Sloth. The soldiers went to help their comrades still shocked and they vacated the tunnel. A few hours later, the survivors taken care of by the Fort's infirmary and finally able to give their report – an empty report, they had merely followed the empty tunnel for a few days before turning back, low on rations and not wanting to take any risk, when they had felt something unnatural crept upon them, and the darkness thicken. They had hastened toward the end of the tunnel, but the darkness had been relentless, and those who were caught in it didn't scream long. Then, suddenly, it had disappeared, just as it was catching up with them, leaving only them alone. Then the general had come, and they had thought it an hallucination at first. When they saw that Raven seemed to be working with Sloth, they'd been utterly terrified, the dark monster that had decimated their unit still fresh in mind – only when the man had been killed did they dare to try and call out, they admitted, thorn between looking ashamed of their fear and still terrified. That night, Ed and Al bundled into the same bed, Tempesta and Paws curling with them, sorely missing their sisters. Neither Riza nor Havoc commented, both more seasoned than them, yet still badly shaken up by the day. ¤.¤.¤ The short, terse accounting of the day Ed had managed to sent her made Ariana want to rush by her brothers side – she was pretty sure her Night Flames were trained enough for her to jumped directly to Central, and from them rush toward Fort Briggs with shorter jumps. Except, of course, it would probably exhaust her when she was finally back in full health, and explaining how she'd made the days long travel in hours would be nearly impossible. She cuddled with an already asleep Ana idly, the little girl burrowing into her side – she hated being held back by this world's more constraining rules, and it was at times like these that she understood why Death had been so reluctant for her to be sent here so soon. Each use of her holy powers spent her in way it hadn't in her previous life, and even her more "normal" powers were so alien she had to be careful while using them. Feeling her inner turmoil, Padfoot let out a small whine, before nuzzling her reassuringly. She wrapped her arms around the warm and furry body, thankful to her godfather for having followed her through those lifes, and feeling better with his reassuring presence by her side. Finally, she managed to fell into slumber. She was woken up early the next morning by a surprise call from granny Pinako. Taking the receiver while chasing the last whisper of sleepiness from her mind, she listened to the old woman that had taken care of them for years. Then nearly dropped the receiver, all thought of sleep chased away. She shouldn't be so surprised, she mused, Pinako's news echoing in her head. After all, she had told him, years ago, to come back, and he did say he would. But they had searched fruitlessly for him for year, and she had been so used, from the start, not to have a father, that she had nearly forgotten that one day or another, he'd be back into their life. And now, he was back – Von Hohenheim. "I'm going to Rosembool." Seeing the agitation of her youngest student, Izumi Curtis frowned, then added "We're coming." Ari's eyes widened slightly in surprised – then she smiled, briefly hugging her teacher before stepping back and going to gather her stuffs and Ana's, while Izumi called Mason to put him in charge of the store and informed her husband of their imminent trip. Ling, that had arrived in the kitchen as she made her proclamation to Izumi, merely nodded toward his two shadows as they too went too prepare to travel. Soon enough, Xingeses and Amestrians were in a train toward the East, Winry sending a short message announcing she'd join them in the train at Rush Valley's stop. The train's rumbling lulled her in with it's familiarity and she was finally able to write to her brothers, wincing just by thinking about Ed's predictable reaction to the news she was sending them. While he did understand why their father had left, it didn't mean his anger an resentment toward the man had disappeared at all - their reunion would be explosive, she could all but bet on it. ¤.¤.¤ Roy finished his stack of paperwork with a bored sigh. One would have thought that Riza not being here to force him to work and teasing him about Ari would be a good thing – yet he was even more bored than usual. He'd even done all his work early! And judging by the amused glances he was getting from his team, he just knew they were enjoying his predicament. Really, what had he thought when he decided to become a commanding officer? No field-work, and mountains of paperwork, this had to be some kind of torture... He was really thankful to his returned memories right now – because at least, he had the message system of Chaos' Game to help him alleviate boredom, and annoying Ed worked even in written form, which was kind of impressive. The first reports from Havoc and Riza had been both reassuring and concerning. While Kimblee hadn't gone in a mad killing spree at Fort Briggs – yet – the confirmation that Scar was there, and ready to fight wasn't a good news. One mad man there was enough, two mad men set on fighting each other and with no regard for collateral damages was too much. The apparent calm in the icy fortress wouldn't last. And sure enough, on the very day of FullMetal and EarthBreaker's arrival in the north, the situation started to go to hell. Funny, up until now he'd been pretty sure it was his bambina that tended to provoke chaos in her wake without even trying, but her eldest brother seemed just as skilled in it as her apparently. Now that he thought about it, maybe it wasn't that surprising – heroes were supposed to have an interesting life weren't they? And the two Elric brothers clearly were this world's chosen so of course life wouldn't be boring around them. Not like in Central. This was the headquarter of the enemy, how the hell could life be so boring in this city? Then again, the Fuhrer, all nonhuman that he was, had shirked his duty to visit Ariana when she was sick and left with the promise of a fighting tournament in Central City when she came back. That should alleviate his boredom a bit. Now if only the bambina could come back... "Colonel," Fuery interrupted his musing, a heap of sheet held out toward him "you're going to want to see this." His eyebrow rose as he read the report. While he'd already had his team's report thanks to Chaos' Game messages, and the daily call they'd agreed on, this was still interesting news from the north. Scar's traveling companions weren't as first thought hostages but willing partner. And there was one more than the previous intel had let on – a man that wasn't named but that he could recognize through the words. Why would doctor Marcoh, that had previously been lying low and traveling around in order not to be caught by Father, work with the Ishvalian killer? And why on earth were they traveling with a small Xingese girl proficient in alkahestry and her pet miniature panda? With a shrug, he started to compose a message to his team in the north, when a torrent notification suddenly popped. [Personal Quest activated! Long live the King! Goal: enroll in the military Bonus Goal: enroll in the officer academy Reward:+500XP per goal, "Fuhrer" title unlocked upon completion Bonus reward: 750XP per goal, [Goal complete!+500XP Goal update: pass the State Alchemist Exam Bonus goal complete! +750XP Bonus goal update: be rank among the top three in the written test] [Goal complete! +500XP Goal update: be promoted Bonus goal complete!+750XP Bonus goal update: be promoted within three years [Goal complete! +500XP Goal update: be posted in Central headquarters Bonus goal complete!+750XP Bonus goal update: be posted in Central headquarters before 30 year old [Goal complete!+500XP Goal update: be promoted to general Bonus goal complete!+750XP Bonus goal update: be promoted to general before 40 year old] [Level up! You are now level 75! +1PP, +2CP, +7SP] [Perk available: - Womanizer (1/3):+3 Charisma, (unlocks Womanizer (2/3): double rate of learning Communication Skills) - Commanding Officer's Aura: double rate of learning Communication and Ground Skills - Arcobaleno's gift: gain +1 Skill Point in every Affinity each 10 level, applicable retroactively] [Blood Alchemy skill unlocked!] [System Log: Mastery available You are now eligible to select a mastery. Note that each mastery has a specific skill requirement to choose it, and will offer specific bonus and skill set that will add itself to your current class bonuses. You will not be able to level up above level 75 as long as you haven't selected and gained your Mastery.] ¤.¤.¤ Roy blinked. Did he just level up seven times for basically... living his life up until now? Shaking his head in disbelief, he went back to the message he was writing, before mentioning toward the end the new quest that had just appeared. Then he started another message, this on destined toward his bambina, because he just knew this was linked to her – and as suspected she didn't disappoint. To think the ideas they had just started to think about a few days ago had already been polished into a completely new type of alchemy. His alchemist's mind forgot about the rest of his day's duties, as he started to work on the notes she had sent him – and he was so absorbed by it that it wasn't until the next day that he remembered that he had a mastery to chose... There were only two choices, and the requirement were quite high, each needing a Skill at 100, 75, 50 and 25 to be unlocked – and the choice was quick to be made. While the Warrior Mastery would have provided a welcomed boost in Endurance, he was nowhere near the requirement demanded, and meeting them would take too much time he didn't have. As such, he settled on the Savant Mastery and it's boost in Luck. No sooner had he validated his choice and chosen his Mastery Perk that Fuery was calling him at the phone, Havoc calling to report – and Riza's written message being received in his inbox in Chaos' Game. He barely refrained from snorting as he read about how Mira had killed Raven; that was typical of the woman who hated his guts. The brothers' reaction was far less funny, but not unexpected, as neither of them were killers. As for the three survivors from the tunnel... The description of terrifying darkness made him think back to his first encounters with the Vindice, holders of the Omerta among the mafia in his previous life – their unearthly Night Flames making pause even the worst of the killers of the underworld. They may have worked closely together later on in his life, he would never forget about that first meeting – and they never lost their horrific reputation. He sighed. Knowing his bambina, she would be barely restraining herself from rushing to her brothers' side when she heard about the day's events. He started mentally reviewing the paperwork he would need should she decide to go to them on the next day – because as much as she wanted to, she wouldn't just flame-jump to them, she was far too intelligent to do so. By the next day he was happy that he had prepared the paperwork, yet hadn't filled it in – for WindBlade wasn't headed North just yet. Von Hohenheim had finally been found. XII: 1914 Ariana's eyes glided on the familiar scenery without really seeing it, mind focused on the man she was going to meet."Why are we going to Rosembool?" Ana had asked, worried by the visible restlessness of her sister "Is granny Pinako ill?"Ari had to force herself to calm down and smile as she answered the little girl "No, granny is alright, don't worry." "Granny called because someone important to your family came back," Winry explained, making Ari sent her a grateful smile "so now we're going to meet him.""Who?""Our father." Ari finally made herself admit "Von Hohenheim."As if calling his name was all that was needed, something familiar yet alien started to manifest itself to her senses – souls, of course, the man was after all a living Philosopher Stone. Except that it was different. It hadn't been as evident to her when she was young – but now that she could hear the cries of the multitude of souls under their feet everywhere in Amestris, the feeling of her father's souls was much less uncomfortable.The soul within him were suffering, but they weren't rebelling against him...Her eyes widened as she understood what it meant.And already, the train was slowing down, wheels screeching against the rails and they were getting of their wagon. "I told you not to be gone for too long." The simple remark was supposed to be much more biting and accusing – but somehow, it only came out as weary.The tall man eye's softened at that, hesitantly reaching toward her – would she come to him when he had abandoned them for so long? Her, the child who already avoided his touch when she was just a baby?For a moment, he thought that she wouldn't – but with a small, tired sigh, she eventually nested herself in his arms, making him frown when he realized how tiny she truly was, her old eyes and mature countenance nearly having made him forget how young she really was. "Ten years is way too long." she asserted again"I know." he nodded " I'm sorry." The rest of the traveling group, that had waited a few meters behind in order to give them a bit of privacy, was were torn between smiling and frowning – just like Von Hohenheim, seeing the girl so small in her father's arms made them remember that while he had had a good reason to leave, he did abandon three young children.And not knowing about his wife's death wasn't an acceptable excuse – it only made the situation worse. Ana, for now in Winry's arms, tilted her head, smelling something only she could "Is father a bad guy?" she asked Winry"No," sighed Winry "he isn't. Just a bit misguided.""Oh. Then why is sister crying?""Because she didn't see him in a long time." Winry answered, hiding her shock at the affirmation – Ari rarely cried, having spent most of her tears when they survived the resurrection attempt of their mother The excuse, simple but heartfelt, had been all that was needed to break the dam – and indeed Ari was crying, quietly, torn between wanting to berate him for his much too long absence, and comfort the anguish she could feel in his soul.Von Hohenheim had really loved Trisha Elric, and learning that the woman he loved had gone ahead and died, while he was still stuck in this never-aging, immortal body, was tearing him apart, only his resolution to put an end to the original homunculus keeping him together. Finally, she opted to putting her hand on the place where his heart should be "They are quieter." she stated "And less numerous.""We all agreed to work together." he answered in lieu of explanation, confirming her thoughts "Padfoot grew." he added lightlyAri nodded. Padfoot level was tied to her own – and his own growth was tied to his level.As such, he'd had a growing spur when she reached level 25 and 50, going from looking like a two months pup to a four months one and finally a sixth months one. As such, he now had the slightly disproportionate body of growing dogs, having nearly reached his adult height, towering at her waist, yet not nearly as bulky as he would be as an adult Grimm. "The house was empty." he continued"What did granny tell you?""That... Trisha died." the raw hurt that was visible as he said his wife's name couldn't be missed "That the boys didn't accept it." the golden eyes darkened "That all of you are State Alchemist." Much was held in the last affirmation – a question, of course, for Von Hohenheim knew well that he had warned his daughter about the man working behind the scene of their nation; but knowledge also. After all, orphaned geniuses children delving into alchemy – the logical conclusion wasn't hard to come to... ¤.¤.¤ They had started to walk to the Rockbell's house – and Von Hohenheim did note how telling it was, that his daughter didn't even think to go to her own house – the rest of the group trailing behind still."I tried to stop them." Ari whispered, voice haunted by her failure "But Ed..." "Ed always was stubborn. And quick to anger." Von Hohenheim easily understood "So much like me when I was young..." more understanding dawned in his tone "So you helped them when you couldn't stop them.""I thought that if we were more the price would be less heavy." she said, absentmindedly rubbing the automail hidden under her coat"What was the price?" he asked, worry creeping in his tone "Pinako said you were well, but...""But there is no seeing the gate and getting out intact." Ari nodded "And the initial price Truth tried to take was heavy." she shrugged "So we bargained." Padfoot whined at the simple affirmation. As if bargaining could cover the terrifying eternity stuck beyond the Gate, fearing for her family's life.They paused at the door for granny Pinako to open – and the old woman snorted derisively "Bargained. Right." she commented "If you can call sacrificing most of your own lifespan to make up for you brothers idiocy that." The tone was harsh – but Pinako knew that someone didn't say it, the girl would try to gloss it over, it was the way she was.Hohenheim let out a nearly silent gasp at the affirmation, and Ariana flinched – even if Roy and her were in the process of crafting an array that should extend her lifespan, she hadn't said anything about it for now, not wanting to give false hope to her friends and family. Ignoring both her father and Pinako, she turned toward the three Xingese "You don't have to stay when we talk about this." she said softlyLing and his two bodyguard knew the girl enough by now to hear what wasn't said – the discussion was heading toward dangerous information, information that could put them into harm's way just for knowing about it. Information they really didn't need to know now that the girl was well on her way of fulfilling her word and giving them something that would help the prince become emperor. Except of course, now that they knew her and her friends, they already felt far too involved in the situation to just let it go.Xing and its emperor would wait a bit more – right now they had a debt toward the Elric siblings and they would repay it by helping them, whether they wanted their help or not.Reading their determination in their eyes, she snorted bemusedly "So be it then." With that, they entered, assembling like always around the kitchen table, Ari negligently throwing her coat on the back of her chair, the glinting metal revealed. Von Hohenheim immediately noticed, his eyes going to Padfoot's own automail."All of us lost an arm." she said, seeing the question in his eyes "Even Padfoot, Tempesta and Paws..." she confirmed "They are Ed's fox and Al's cat." she added as an after-thought "And Ed also lost a leg.""And your life?" he asked She winced, not really liking to talk about it, but truly its not like there was any point in hiding it "At first Truth was going to take Al." she said, voice empty as she remembered "So I made him change his mind."Von Hohenheim raised an eyebrow at that – the being that was behind the Gate wasn't one you could just bargain with. She smiled lightly "You already knew I wasn't born normal, dad. Is it really so surprising?""How long?""Left? Maybe ten years, probably less..." she answered, smile growing weaker, before continuing "Anyway, we were found by a state alchemist." Von Hohenheim was torn between worry and relief – being found performing an illegal alchemical act by a military man wasn't good, but being found at all was probably how the hadn't bled out and died."The colonel had come to recruit them." Pinako took over "He thought they were three adults men." she laughed, remembering the fact that the good-looking officer had spent so long believing Ari to be a boy "lieutenant Hawkeye and him brought them over.""And even thought they were hurt he still tried to recruit them!" Winry hmphed indignantly "That man has no shame!" "When he talked about the resources that State Alchemists had available to them, Ed started to think that he could use them to research the Philosopher Stone." Ariana continued "That's when I told them your story."Von Hohenheim looked around him, surprised. "Everyone here, bar Ling and his bodyguards knows." his daughter confirmed "I had to stop Ed from going on this path.""Yet you still enrolled.""What better way to stop an enemy than from within?" the girl commented lightly"This is not your fight!" her father protested hotly "This is everyone's fight, dad, don't mistake it! And you won't win against Father alone!" Ari answered just as hotly"Father?""This is how he calls himself." Izumi answered "A father to seven deadly children." Von Hohenheim didn't answer immediately, surprised that they had managed to learn anything about the non-human that had managed to remain hidden for four centuries. "Father created homunculus from himself, imbuing each with one deadly sin. Greed escaped his grasp and was freed from him. He is now on our side, and just as mortal as any human. Lust I killed with Ed and Al in Central, Envy managing to escape. Sloth, they are tracking to dispose of right now. The identity of two others is confirmed: Selim Bradley, and his father, King Bradley himself. Which sin they incarnate is unclear for now.""All the higher officer working in Central are working with Father." Izumi continued "All for the sake of immortality." "He really is trying to repeat the past." the immortal in their midst bitterly whispered, more for himself than them, yet still heard by everyone"That he is." Ari nodded somberly "And those fools reward will be the same as in Xerxes." ¤.¤.¤ "Ah!" the loud exclamation surprised everyone, and Ling, that was the one that had shouted, pointed an accusing finger at Ari "You! You and your brothers! You're the one that destroyed all of the ruins in Xerxes!"She raised an eyebrow at the sudden realization, and the prince went on "I remember this symbol!"Ariana smiled when she realized he was pointing at her necklace. "Indeed, it was us. Precisely to avoid people like you, searching the ancient ruins in hope of finding the Red Stone without realizing that it had destroyed our people."His next comment died on his lips at the affirmation, and his eyes went back to the man she had said was her father – a man which didn't feel quite human to his dragon pulse... "You. You are immortal and from the old kingdom..." he understood, still having trouble believing it "And however you gained immortality, it destroyed your country, and its going to happen again, but in Amestris..." he bowed toward Ariana "I thank you for warning me off the Philosopher Stone," he affirmed, distaste glinting in his eyes for a moment as he went on "A king has no need for a cure that would destroy its people.""If only more leaders were as intelligent as you..." Von Hohenheim sighed"Then Xerxes would still be standing." Ari completed "But humans tends to like to try and trespass in god's domain." "You would know, wouldn't you?" Izumi commented merrily, only understood by her husband and Winry, who both smiled at the comment Before the goddess in training could answer, a childish voice was heard, and a drawing shoved under her nose "I've finished, big sister! Is it correct?"Ariana took the little on her knees with the practiced ease of someone that did it everyday, and focused her eyes on the paper.Al had helped her setting tasks everyday for the little girl to improve little by little – and by now, Ana had the basis of calculus, science and history of a child twice her age, was starting to read Xingese on top of Amestrian and was progressing in the basis of all four element alchemy, her Von Hohenheim Inheritance, unlocked when blood adopted by the siblings, helping her progress as fast as they had at her age. "Its good." she nodded finally, the four drawings, each of a basic elemental circle much more steady than they had been months before "But you should practice using Xingese rather than Amestrian in the water circle if you want to learn alkahestry."Ana frowned "I know but its more complicated." she pouted, before her eyes lighted up "But my fire circle is really good, right?""Like always, little pyro." Ari confirmed with a loving smile "We'll do the practical this afternoon, in the meanwhile you can go and play." "Will I have fighting training today?" she beggedAriana thought about it a moment – the day would probably be busy with catching up with Von Hohenheim, so a normal training session was out, but..."You can either do a level 5 Challenge or go against one level 5 Boss." she finally offeredIt wasn't the first time the little girl was offered the option, but like always, she pouted "But I'm already level 12! I'm sure I could do a level 10 Challenge or Boss!""Its either that or nothing Anastasia." the elder sister warned "Alright then," the girl sighed "I'll take the Mountain Challenge." her eyes brightened again "I'm sure I can last longer than last time!""If you last one hour, I'll bake you chocolate cookies." Ariana promised"Yes!" And with that, the little girl was rushing into the siblings' room, from where she would connect herself to the Challenge. Challenge weren't deadly, like they could be in Ari's previous life, and were far more restricted in that they couldn't sent the players at the other side of the world, or even in another world, to be completed.Instead, they took the form of different survival scenarios that could be enacted in the Arena – where weather, field, and time of the day could be adapted, and the enemies changed according to the level. At level 5, Ana would mainly be against medium sized wild life, with on larger creature appearing every half hour... "So..." finally asked Von Hohenheim, as the little blond tornado was gone "Who is this? I'm pretty sure Trisha wasn't pregnant when I left.""Ana was blood adopted, she is effectively your daughter."Filling the 'blood adoption' comment for later, her father asked "What happened to her parents?"All those that knew the little girl story darkened. "Her father was a mad-man that used his wife to create a talking chimera. Then tried to do the same with her." Ari shuddered at her memories "The result wasn't human, nor viable. Thankfully, Al was working on alkahestry precisely to help human chimera...""There are others?"In lieu of answer, Izumi dropped her illusion "There are." she nodded "I chose to become one to survive, and the array could work only thanks to Ari, but the others weren't given a choice." "Father main goal main be to create another Stone, but he isn't above experiment on humans." took over Ari "I managed to put Ana back in a more viable body, and she's hiding her features right now...""But at least she's alive, and happy." Von Hohenheim concluded for himself, now curious to get to know his unplanned second daughter"We wouldn't have been able to keep her without our silver watch," Ari noted, happy to feel the easy acceptance her father had of the little girl "but yes, I think she's happy with us." ¤.¤.¤ Ed and Al shared a glance as they slipped out of the still asleep fortress, both clad in dark clothes that only stood out in the snow a moment, and animal masks hiding their features.They had an homunculus to track. The night had been short, and barely restful, and as such, after a few hours spent tossing and turning, they finally decided they would be better off doing something useful. They debated giving the slip to Riza, but knew she would skin them alive if they did so, and as such woke her up – and now she was by their side, face hidden behind the Queen's mask. Havoc had been given the task to run interference in order for their disappearance not to be noticed by Kimblee should the other state alchemist decide to take a sudden interest in them. Tempesta and Paws, despite their protests, had been left behind, both much to recognizable to be taken along, and now they were trailing in the snow – the plan was to catch up with Sloth from overground, then alchemize their way into the tunnel, and take out the homunculus; Riza would provide long-range attacks, Ed close ranged one, and Al would have the dangerous task of closing in to the sin's Red Stone and steal it, effectively killing it. "This monster really is quite fast for someone supposed to represent Sloth." Ed groaned as they finally caught up with said homunculusAl and Riza didn't answer, but mentally agreed – they had trailed in the snow for five hours, and were by now really thankful to have Havoc to cover up their absence back at Fort Briggs."Well," the eldest Elric sighed, crouching in the snow "let's get to it."With a clap, a large area was cleaned from snow, and a hole was beckoning them into its darkness. The three of them activated the voice chat, and let themselves drop into the tunnel that could doom their country. Ed an Al immediately transmuted a couple of mirror to capture the outside light, while Riza, who had unlocked the night vision mutation, took out the sniper she had stored already assembled in her Inventory earlier and immediately found a spot to ready herself for the attack.While the noises of their arrival had gone unnoticed by the homunculus, the sudden flow of light was noticed, and Sloth slowly turned toward them, the tall non-human grumbling in a by now familiar way about "Troublesome intruders..." Then, with a velocity surprising for the heavy frame, he hurled the handful of dirt he still had in hands toward them and attacked."Intruders must be eliminated, Pride said." he sighed loudly "I'm so tired, I'd rather not! But well, Pride gave out orders, and not obeying Pride is troublesome..." As the arrays on his throwing knives had been particularly effective, Ed had reproduced them on his dao during the days that went by between Sloth's freezing and thawing, as such, when he jumped toward the homunculus, he was satisfied to see his blade bite the thought skin – as for Sloth, he was stunned, and loudly wailed at the wound, before throwing himself out of the weapon's way. Right into Riza's bullet. And if the snipers back at Fort Briggs hadn't scratched the hide of the homunculus, the Hawkeye's bullets were different – they were the work of Leon's strange body, and could blast through the heavier defenses like they weren't there."This fight is tiring!" Sloth complained "I don't want to think!" But think he would, as was clearly made apparent as the lazy being's whole behavior changed – and the spark of intelligence that had been up until now lacking in his eyes was now a dangerous glint. Sloth wasn't stupid, they realized with apprehension, he was just too lazy to think when he didn't have to.And by landing two successive blows on him, they had forced him to acknowledged that he needed to think to win this fight. Al gulped, and activated the array on the claws he had made like the one Ari had used to wrench out Lust' Stone, but far more resistant, as he had had time to craft them contrary to the one-use one his sister had made do with at the time.And right now, he was very thankful that he had had time to engrave the strange weapon with a few arrays – the left one with Ari's Crimson Edge, the right one with his own texture-changing array, that could use the carbon in the metal to be either razor-sharp or diamond-hard. Focusing himself on the ongoing battle, he jumped into the fight, knowing that the now intelligent eyes would suspect something if he didn't take part in the assault and merely waited for an overture from the side-line. The right-hand claws were glinting as he set them in their diamond form – attacking in priority with that hand, and purposely missing his left-handed assault, he lured the homunculus into thinking he was heavily-right handed, and that his claws, while solid, wouldn't hurt him... Time distorted in the unique way it could during the fight, as all three partners fought in the seamless way that only people used to fight side by side could achieve – those arena sessions against different Bosses were proving their usefulness right now.While they hadn't managed to dodge all of the humunculus' attacks, each had managed to cover sufficiently the other so that none of the wounds inflicted were too worrying. With a clap, Ed made the ground disappear under Sloth's feet – they couldn't afford not to use their alchemy in this fight, as risky for their identity as that could be should the homunculus escape.Taking advantage of the stumbling that followed, Riza quickly shot several rounds, finally taking an arm with them. An arm that may have been regenerating right under their eyes but still wasn't there for yet a few more seconds.Ed pushed the advantage, dao cutting and slowing the regrowth, while Al was keeping the other arm away, then Riza told him to duck on the voice chat – and the next moment another bullet broke the still functioning arm. Al jumped, right claw going from diamond to carbon edge, and left claw cutting a bloody path toward the stone in-bedded in his right eye. The peaceful boy had to refrain a shudder as his fingers closed around the warm, pulsing surface of the Red Stone, the souls within it grating against his refined dragon pulse. ¤.¤.¤ And with a last heaving, it finally came free, covered in blood, and Sloth's large frame stopped struggling, a blissful smile spreading on his face "Ah... Yes... Even living was far too troublesome..." The homunculus turned into dust, as if swept out by an invisible gust of wind. [Hidden goal complete! Rest, at last...Free Sloth from the eternal torment of his lifeReward:+750XP, Homunculus Sloth added to Boss List] The three fighters shared a look.None of them had sustained heavy wounds, which was a blessing, but the nearly two hour long altercation had still tired them out, and right now they wanted nothing more than crawl back into their beds – several hours away from here."Lets get out of here." suggested Riza The two brothers nodded their agreement, and Ed alchemized a ladder while Al put the Philosopher Stone still in his hands into his Inventory. As Ed was halfway to the top, Ed suddenly felt his hair stand up on his arms and his neck tingle."There's something else coming," he urgently announced to the other two that were already out "be ready to close this hole!" With that he hurried up, not knowing what he was feeling but having a good idea – the memory of the three survivors of the exploring unit still fresh in his mind. He jumped out of the hole, and Al closed it immediately. But all three of them had seen the eyes in the darkness, and the shadows trying to grasp the eldest Elric before violently shrinking back at the edge of the hole, as if wary of venturing outside the tunnel – the three of them filed the information away, as Al closed the hole away.With a clap, Ed quickly covered the bare ground with a layer of snow, and they started to go back toward Fort Briggs, hiding their tracks as they went. Havoc felt a weight off his shoulder as his three companions discreetly slipped into their room. The three of them looked tired, but none seemed to badly injured."Anything happened while we weren't there?" asked Riza while tiredly discarding the black clothing Havoc turned his back to her to give her a bit of privacy more by politeness than real need – working in the military meant that what was considered normal to civilian was sometime nothing more than luxuries for them – and went on answering "Major Miles should be dropping by in a couple of hour to check if you're back. Kimblee tried to see Ed and Al, I said they weren't feeling well and that you were taking care of it. An upset stomach."The blond woman nodded – an upset stomach was good, it put people down but didn't last that long, Kimblee wouldn't even think to question it when he saw them up and about on the next day. She twitched as Ed managed to slip into the bathroom as Al left it, depriving her from showering for a few more minutes, making both Havoc and Al laugh.The boy settled on his bunk, checking the notifications he had dismissed while they were tracking and fighting Sloth.Reading the short mail received hours later, his eyes widened and strayed toward the bathroom door – as if on cue, loud cussing echoed from the other side of the door, Ed having the strange habit of checking his mail and notifications in the shower. Seeing Riza and Havoc's inquisitive looks, he sighed.Ah well, Havoc may not know about Chaos' Game, he knew just as well as the rest of the colonel's team how strange the siblings were..."We received a mail from Ari when we were out, and I just checked it. Ed too, clearly..."Not even bothering asking about the how, Havoc patiently waited for the boy to go on."Dad's back." Al announced "I can't believe this shitty father dared to just show up on the front door like that after ten fucking years!" Ed loudly complained at the same time, freeing the bathroom and still drying his hair "The nerve of that man!" "Ari took the express train early this morning," Al went on, expertly ignoring his brother's ranting "she should have arrived in Rosembool within the last hour."Ed settled himself on his brother's bed absently moving Paws over – and ignoring the protesting hiss he gained for it "We should tell her we took care of Sloth, she deserve a good news if she has to put up with that idiot.""Brother..." Al sighed Ed frowned at the disproving look his brother had in his eyes and huffed indignantly "Al! He abandoned us! He may have had a good reason it doesn't change the truth of it!""You know he wouldn't have left if he didn't felt it was his duty.""Yes, yes, alright, I get it, I won't beat him up. Much." Knowing he wouldn't get anything more from him, Al nodded and started writing a response mail to their sister, Ed reading above his shoulder."Send the stone over to her," the elder eventually said "the sooner she gets rid of it, the better. And tell her about the strange behavior of this shadowy thingy..."Al nodded, and Havoc rolled his eyes as dark red, glinting gem appeared seemingly out of nowhere – and disappeared just as strangely. "You know, you used to be more a lot more careful over the strange things you could do when you were younger." he commented, amused"Ah but back then we didn't trust any of you as much as we do now." Al smiled "Working together to save the country has a way of bringing people together.""That it has." Havoc agreed, lazily stretching He didn't really care about the exact nature of the siblings strange gifts – he worked behind a desk most of the time nowadays, and that didn't require any strange powers, only a good brain and a pen – but it was still heartwarming to see how much more the now four Elric siblings trusted them than when they first enrolled.At that time, they had been young, much too young to be enrolled, yet already brilliantly intelligent – but most of all, behind the far too mature eyes, they had been broken children still working on putting themselves back together. But they had managed to surpass the event that had nearly broken them and grow so much stronger that now, he would trust his life in their hands without a doubt. ¤.¤.¤ "So you're the famous Elric siblings? Aren't you supposed to be more?""Our sisters aren't there right now." Ed answered curtly Without surprise, Kimblee had asked to see them as soon as he heard they were feeling better. And even talking to the man made their skin crawl. "I see, too bad really, I would've loved to meet the set. Anyway! I'm enrolling your in my team.""We're here on an investigation under order from the colonel Mustang." Al pointed out calmly"It doesn't really matter," the other alchemist easily dismissed "I've got the Fuhrer's personal authorization to pull in any resources to stop Scar."he waved in the general direction of Riza and Havoc "Beside I'm sure those two are more than enough to track one low-life." Ed and Al traded a look – the news, while not welcomed, wasn't really a surprise and working with the man would help them keep an eye on him.But it also meant that the situation could grow dangerous for them very fast – after all if he had a philosopher stone available to use, it meant that he probably was in on the conspiracy.Soon, several team were organized and heading out – Kimblee needed the northern fort's men, but clearly didn't trust them, having brought his own muscle men with him.Men that outwardly seemed normal enough – except that having lived with Ana for months, and knowing Shan Feng's men, it was impossible not to notice the slightly different aura of the two soldiers from Central. Chimera. Apparently, the scientists working for Father had progressed, seeing as no animal feature were visible at a first glance..."This place looks like a ghost town." Ed commented, looking around dubiouslyThey were in what used to be a prosperous mining town and complex, that, between the frequents frontier skirmishes and the coal veins thinning out, had died a slow death. Now, only empty buildings, sagging under the snows' weight and derelict machines prematurely aged by the weather were left."How are we supposed to find him in this labyrinth?" Al wondered "He could hide anywhere!" "I'll stay at the main base," the Crimson Alchemist was explaining "and you'll spread out into searching team." team numbers and sectors to search were quickly drawn on a military map and radio handed out, everyone promptly tuning in on the usual channel for searching parties "Contact me immediately if you find Scar."Ed sighed as the designed teams scattered around. As luck would have it, the two of them and Miles had been teamed up with Kimblee's two goons, and as such weren't able to talk freely.[We need to get rid of those two.] Ed mentally dismissed the small notification, agreeing with Al[Well it's like you said, it is a labyrinth...] he answered in kind, really thankful for Chaos' Game messaging system Al suppressed a smile at the line of text, just about hearing the amusement in his brother's words.Sneaking a look at the abandoned building around him, a crude plan was soon thought up, and a few written exchange latter, he sped up a bit "Did you hear that?" Ed asked excitedly, speeding up as well"Hear what?" a dubious chimera asked, not having heard anything unusual Discretely, Al's hand joined together, the snow hiding the flash of alchemy – and the environment around them growing ever more blurred, as if the fog was rising.Which it was – artificially.Changing the temperature of the ground around him wasn't easy, but at least it was discreet – and the difference of temperature between the ground and the air, that already was laden in water thanks to the snow, soon created the fog that was now hampering the two chimera's vision. Miles had been surprised too, not having the advantage of being in on the plan, but Ed had grasped him as soon as visibility was low enough. Another alchemical reaction and they were slipping into one of the empty building, closing the hole behind them just fast enough in order not to be seen.A few seconds later, loud shouts were echoing around, the two man they had just evaded calling for them. "Do they want Scar to know we're here?" Ed grumbled at the unprofessional behavior"They sure seem very worried about loosing us." Al, before going still "We're not alone." ha finally announcedThe other two immediately looked around – and sure enough, the sound of someone walking on crushed ice echoed, followed by a small gasp. "Wait don't go! We're not here to hurt you!" Al called as the little dark-haired girl wearing Xingese clothes went run away"You're after mister Scar!" she protested, stopping despite herself"Well, he tried to kill us first!" Ed protested "He's a dangerous man!""No he's not! He helps me!""With what?" Al asked in a more gentle tone ¤.¤.¤ The girl hesitated a bit, as if wary of answering that question, and looked ready to bolt again when some noise echoed in the building, and two men appeared "Ah there you are May, I found... the notes..." the first one trailed down, surprised at seeing the two blond teenagers and the military man, a heavy handwritten diary in hands "Eh! Doctor Marcoh!" Al realized, recognizing the man from the picture in his file "What are you doing here!"At the same time, the second man had recognized the brothers "Ah! FullMetal and EarthBreaker!" he looked around, cautiously "Where are the other two?" Ed and Al shared a glance, before finally remembering "First lieutenant Yoki! That's right, that's why we were sent here at first!" Ed commented"Our sisters aren't here," Al added, before turning toward the other man "But more importantly, what are you doing here, and worse, working with Scar? Weren't you supposed to go into hiding?""I was hiding!" he answered back "But when I happened upon May looking for the Philosopher Stone, I couldn't let her continue such a dangerous endeavor..." The brothers shared a look – another Xingese looking for the stone? Did it mean..."You're another child of the emperor then?" Ed bluntly askedThe little girl did a double-take, then nodded, surprised "I'm May Chang, seventeenth royal princess of Xing." she introduced herself"We'll tell you what we told your sibling: don't look for that stone." "I know now." she nodded seriously "I saw things under your Central City." her gaze was strong and unwavering, uncannily like their sister's "The knowledge about this thing... it isn't something I can trust the emperor with, even if it may doom my clan.""Good." Ed nodded just as seriously, respect for the little girl rising at her principles"We were nearly captured by those monsters under the city." Marcoh explained "But then Scar saved us." Even Miles was surprised at this affirmation, one light eyebrow raising "And that ties to you working together in the north... how?""Mister Scar had hidden notes here." May explained seriously "Notes that could help against those monsters.""Why are you even trying to help?" Ed couldn't help but wonder "This isn't your country.""It doesn't really matter, does it?" she asked rhetorically "Once I knew about those monsters, I became involved. It's not like I could just leave, when I know I could have helped, and live with myself after." "That's very brave of you." Al smiled, not noticing the girl blushing in answer"And very stupid." Ed added, even though he agreed with his sibling"Brother!" Al protested, groaning at the older boy's callous attitude At the affirmation, the small panda, that had until now been patiently sitting on the little Xingese girl's head jumped toward Ed, intent on making him pay the insult toward his master.Only to be lazily stopped by an elegant black and red paw. "Good going Tempesta!"The fox answered back by a wave of her tale and a smug yip."What do you mean you're the only one allowed to bite me?" Ed protested, making Al groan"Brother," the younger blond teenager sighed "this is not the time." Deciding that Al and Miles seemed to be the reasonable ones in the group, Marcoh turned toward them "You must let us go." he pleaded "This maybe the only chance to avoid those monsters' plan!""We can work together." the major Miles suggested "After all we are already trying to stop these plans.""You are?" a surprised Marcoh parroted They didn't have a chance to answer, as with a loud crash, Scar barged in the room, fighting two inhuman looking creatures.[Looks like Kimblee's goons showed their true form.] Al commented over the written chat [What do we do?]Ed hesitated a moment before answering – on one hand, Scar was a dangerous maniac that had tried to killed them, and he still really wanted to pay him back; on the other hand if the man was now working against Father he could be a valuable ally, as much as he didn't want to admit it. "We'll need your assistance capturing Scar!" affirmed the chimera looking like some sort of boar"You're late." the other, toad-like, chimera added "Ah!" Ed dramatically protested, feet hitting the closest chimera square into the stomach "What are these strange beasts? Is it another prototype from Drachma?""It must be." Al nodded, suppressing an amused smile at his brother's antics while pushing the other chimera"They are not from Fort Briggs." Miles calmly stated – he may be not used to the Elric's antics, he still knew how to think on his feet "And I didn't see anything like that among the Central forces.""An enemy it is then." the two brothers nodded as one Scar seemed a bit nonplussed at the unexpected assistance – and the two chimera, more trying to explain themselves than fight, were soon subdued, and knocked out. "Well," Ed commented, turning toward Scar "All that left is you..." a frown "Is what I'd like to say, except it seems like we may have a common objective.""I don't need any help from military dogs.""These military dogs have already gotten rid of three of the monsters you're hunting." the eldest Elric retorted coldlyThat made the Ishvalian pause. ¤.¤.¤ "Talk.""You do realize we don't have a lot of time?" Al pointed out "Those two probably already have alerted Kimblee.""And we really can't take you in with this man around." Ed groaned "Because he's working for the enemy."Major Miles didn't even protest – which, given his pride in working for Fort Briggs was telling. Any ally against Father was good to take, and taking Scar in meant giving him up to the Crimson Alchemist.Not a good idea. "We know that a centuries old homunculus is trying to make Amestris into a Philosopher Stone, and that this is why the Ishavalian War happened." Al resumed succinctly "We know he has seven weaker homunculus working for him, all of the higher ranking officer in Central, and chimeras like those two. And we've already killed two homunculus and destroyed a third's stone.""As for you visibly you've got notes that could help against that bastard, who knows how..." "My brother guessed something strange was happening during the war." Scar answered after a small hesitation "But I'm no alchemist, I couldn't read his notes.""So I'll try." May affirmed, the little girl looking resolute "I'm an alkahestrist.""We can say you escaped toward Drachma." Ed said "And you can go to our sister in Rosembool." Of course, Scar had no wish to work with alchemists – but he still remembered the monster that had been sent after him months earlier, that didn't seemed phase by any death blow, only regenerating itself and continuing its relentless attack.He'd barely escaped with his life. And these kids had managed to kill not one but two of those things? "Still, how can we make them escape?" Al wondered "There are search teams everywhere and most are probably coming toward here thanks to those two from Central...""Why don't we just use the tunnels?"Everyone turned toward the small man, surprised."This is a mining town right?" Yoki went on "Then there's got to be an underground network to work with, I'd know, I used to own a mining town after all!" "So you get out of here by the tunnels and head East, while we point Central toward Drachma?" Mile recapitulated "It should work." a glance toward the two chimera that had woken up somewhere during their talk "Now to take care of those two." Stopping to pretend that they were still knocked out, the two non-humans shared a resigned look "I guess this is it then."Al frowned at their lack of resistance, and Ed, seeing his reaction, let out a sigh. "Why aren't you protesting?" he asked in a harsh voice "Don't you have anyone to go back to?""We died to the rest of the world the day we were made into these monsters!" the one looking like a boar hotly responded, Ed's particular talent of infuriating people working its magic as usual"So why did you still work with Kimblee?""We'd have died faster." the second chimera shrugged"Still, don't you want to live?" "Of course we want to like you shithead!" the boar growled "But its not like we are going to!""What if you could?" Al ask"Even then, did you see how we look? We're not human anymore!""That's not really a reason to stop living, is it?" Al wondered "After all, there are others like you.""What do you mean?""You aren't the first human chimera we've met." Al said "There were other before you, who escaped the government laboratories. Chimera that couldn't even hide their look." The two men's eyes widened at that. "Why are you telling this to us?" the toad chimera asked defiantly"I don't want to kill you." Al stated, sending an apologizing look at both Miles and his brother "I understand that sometimes its the best solution but that doesn't mean I like it. And in the end, you're not really the enemy, just another couple of victim from those from Central that would destroy our country..." Despite his put upon expression, Ed couldn't help the proud glint in his eyes as Al spoke – because he was the most gentle of the siblings, Al often had had difficulties expressing himself compared to his more boisterous elder brother and poised sister. But he had grown up, and more and more often, was proving that being kind didn't mean he was anyone's doormat! "Why don't you escape with Scar and the others?" Al asked "Ari could tell you where the other chimera live if you want, or you could just leave the country.""Those other chimera... Don't they want to be human again?""Why would they?" Ed asked nonplussed "They may not be humans anymore they are still beings with a soul and feelings. They like looking human to blend in but they accept their existence as chimera." Wonder could be read in the two's eyes. "We'd... we'd like to meet them." the boar finally admitted "If they learned to live as they are even without the luxury of getting back to their human form...""Then we can learn too..." the second noddedAl smiled. Miles shook his head "You are too kind, EarthBreaker." he affirmed "But I guess we can do things your way as long as they don't turn out against us." which even he doubted – angry people were honest, which made Ed's little interrogation earlier pretty trustworthy "And if they were to try anything against Ari..." Al said easily "She'd kick their ass."Ed nodded sagely at that – making the part-Ishvalian wonder at the third State Alchemist sibling."And if worst came to worst," Ed added reluctantly "we inherited our intelligence from our shitty father, and he's with her."From their frightened look, the two chimera had clearly understood the threats aimed at them. When the reinforcement barged in a few minutes latter, the two brothers and Miles looked ragged, as if they had faced a worthy opponent in a fight, and explained that the two from Central had given chase to Scar while they were getting themselves out of the ruins of the building they had been in when it had collapsed thanks to Scar's deconstruction.Last they had seen them, they had been headed further north.Toward Drachma. ¤.¤.¤ After the chat about Ana died down, the heteroclyte group assembled around the Rockbell's kitchen table soon went back to other, just as serious topics.Ari went over how the boys and her had realized what lay under their feet, Ling – who until now had only suspected it – looking ill at the revelation. Then she went over her realization about the Fuhrer, their first encounter with Greed, and the colonel's master plan. "At first we thought we could keep it small," she explained, bitterly laughing at their naivete "get rid of Father and his Sins before Promised Day and ta-dah, country saved."She threaded her fingers through her hair "Of course, we soon realized how stupid it was. Each time we managed to calm the situation somewhere, Central City retaliated by sending troupes to keep the zone pacified after we left, and the blood shed were soon back, and worse.""He has been preparing this for too long to let himself be stopped." Von Hohenheim nodded "So we shifted our aim on hampering him as much as we could and find you because..." a sigh "I suppose it won't come as a surprised to you, but..." a disgusted wince was visible for a second, as she looked at the ground below"His presence extends throughout the country." the blond man completed gravely "To truly kill Father you would need to face him with his Philosopher Stone whole, or it would only weaken him."Ari nodded.And what a nasty shock it had been, to realize all the consequences entailed by those suffering souls lying beneath them. "I've come to the same conclusion during my travels," her father agreed "and it means that whatever we do can only happen at one time.""Promised Day." a sigh "This is madness!" she couldn't help but protest "To stop that madman from destroying our country we must wait until the last second, until the precise moment he drawn on all his forces, to attack!""It will be dangerous." Von Hohenheim admitted "But I have a fail-safe in place should he manage to get a hold on Amestris' souls." Ari was ready to ask more about it when an incoming message from Al distracted her. Glancing about, and finally deciding to trust those that didn't know about her abilities yet she opened the mail, answering Teacher's silent interrogation "News from the boys."After a few moments, she sighed and eyed warily the blood red stone now innocently waiting in her Inventory. "Sloth is no more." she said "Fox, Cat and Queen took it out in the underground tunnel. And apparently they had an encounter with another Sin. Some kind of dark shadows with eyes within that didn't seem to be able to step outside of the tunnel.""That tunnel must be some kind of out-boundary to him, just like the bottle was to the Homunculus back then." Von Hohenheim mused "I've met this Sin too." he admitted At his daughter surprised look he continued, a bit embarrassed "I may have stated my intent to come at him at the Homunculus." he said "So I found an entrance to the circle once I understood it was underground and I called out to him. Instead, his Pride found me..." his voice took on a thoughtful quality come to think of it, I wonder if the girl that showed me the way knew you...""Ah?""She seemed surprised when she saw me, and talked about three State Alchemist that made her change her view on life... She really was a kind girl that Rose..." "Good to think we didn't flaunt our own mistakes for nothing." Ari grumbled, the softening of her eyes belying her annoyed toneBefore their chat could go back to more serious ground, Pinako firmly stated that if they wanted to eat, there was food to be cooked, and kicked them all out of the kitchen, bar Ari. "Are you sure you don't want any help?" Von Hohenheim asked, letting himself be hearded out of the room halfheartedly"Quite sure! The last time I let you inside my kitchen was a disaster! You're exactly like your boys on that point!" a chuckle interrupted the small woman rant, and she glared at her grand-daughter "And don't you dare laugh, child! You're no better! Useless as soon as you're out of the workshop!""I've learned how to cook since I went to Rush City I'll have you know!" Winry protested, red on her cheek"Alright alright, but don't destroy my kitchen!" ¤.¤.¤ Ling didn't need to have it said twice and was already sneaking out, followed by his two bodyguard. Now that he had a far better idea about the situation Amestris found itself in, a walk would help him put his thoughts in order..."We should head back." It was rare for Lang Fan to state her thoughts as boldly – the beautiful girl had been raised very traditionally by her grand-father, his other bodyguard and martial art teacher, and as such she rarely spoke out of turn to her charge.But the girl also had a lot of consideration for him – the prince wasn't sure if it was only her sense of duty and honor, or if she really liked him, but whatever it was, the girl cared about him.And right now, staying would be dangerous.He knew it.Yet... "What kind of prince would I be if I just left after learning something like that?" he protested lightly"They are not your people!" she answered hotly, before blushing as she realized what she had just said "I didn't mean...""I know. You just want me to be safe for our clan. But I just can't ignore something like that. Even if it puts our clan at risk..." a smile "And in a way, helping her would be protecting the clan." "Because there's no telling what this Father would do once he'd destroyed Amestris." Fu finally intervenedLing nodded, reassured at the fact that the old warrior had come to the same conclusion as him. The mad beign had already destroyed one coutnry, and was actively trying to do in a second one, who was to say he wouldn't want to continue his treak after Amestris should he be successful? "Should Ariana manage to create the array for the Emperor, you are to take it to him on my behalf." he said "Otherwise you're to be out of this country before Spring.""With all due respect, your highness..." Fu stated "You are our charge. We won't leave you behind, whatever order you give to us."Lan Fan nodded her assent. Ling repressed a frown – he'd given them a way out but of course these two stubborn shadows wouldn't obey. What was the use of being a prince if he couldn't even force his friends to save themselves?Yet he couldn't help but feel some measure of happiness – family didn't mean a lot when you were royalty, and lots of the attempts on his life while growing up had came from siblings – but Lan Fan and Fu never had betrayed him.That was worth far more than blood to him. Hiding his embarrassment behind a large smile, he headed back toward the Rockbell's house "Let's see if the granny has manage to cook something good! I'm starving!" ¤.¤.¤ Walking toward the cemetery, lost in his thoughts, it took several minutes for Von Hohenheim to take notice of the two people walking with him."You know," the woman admitted casually as he finally noticed her "once I learned you were alive, I promised myself I'd give you a good beating once you reappeared.""It would be deserved." he admitted "And this is exactly why I can't!" she loudly protested "You know you were wrong in abandoning you children! You already feel guilty about it! It would be like beating up on a sick child! It's infuriating!"He smiled – behind her anger, or perhaps thanks to this anger, it was quite clear she cared for the siblings."Thanks." he finally saidShe frowned. "You shouldn't thank me.""You care for them. You took care of them.""I taught them alchemy." she pointed out"You're more than just a teacher, that's clear." he rebutted "Yes." Izumi admitted, her eyes strangely darkening at that – she knew that they were more, and she loved that, but she still had one regret "Yet I still taught them, even thought I knew what they were going to do."The blond man was clearly surprised at that affirmation, but surprisingly didn't seem to judge her "Why?" "Because I knew I couldn't stop them." a sigh "And they had Ari to protect them."She hated admitting it – even more since she had learned the price the girl had paid to protect her brothers."Because forbidding them from a mistake I had committed before them would have been hypocritical..." she added with sadness echoing in her eyes for a momentVon Hohenheim eyes widened at the affirmation, but once again there was no judgement in his eyes. "I'm still thanking you." he finally said as they arrived in front of a tombstone with a familiar name on it "Because you are still taking care of them. Even to this day. When neither I nor Trisha could..."His voice hitched a bit as he said the name of his wife. Pretending not to see the tears in the man's eyes, Izumi felt the last of her anger leaving her – and as he tried to get his feeling under control in front of Elric Trisha's grave, she started talking about the three brats she had met on a rainy day, about the idiotic and stubborn elder, the much too gentle second, the wiser than her years youngest, their time on Jake Island and the months spent living with the Curtis. By the time Von Hohenheim had dried his tears and they had walked back toward the Rockbell's, the man was smiling as Izumi was retelling her times with the siblings. As they neared the courtyard, Von Hohenheim couldn't help but stop as he spotted his daughter and – well his other daughter – sitting in the grass, the little frowning as she seemed to focus.Then with a clap and the familiar flash of alchemy, the little girl pressed her hands to the ground, a small clay dog figurine appearing between her small hands. Picking up the figurine and inspecting it, Ariana nodded and smile "Much better!" she praised "This time you didn't forget to take in consideration the heat needed for the clay to harden and the figurine isn't stuck to the ground!""Yay!" Ana celebrated, dancing around her sister "I did it!" noticing the three adults that were stopped at the courtyard entrance, she ran toward them, showing the small figuring under their faces "See! See! I did it Teacher! I made Padfoot!" Said dog reacted to his name with a happy bark, happily playing with the little girl that was already running toward the house, probably to show off her work to granny Pinako and Winry."Ana!" called back an amused Ariana "You still haven't done your water circle!"The little girl stilled, looking torn between running back to her sister and showing off in the kitchen."Go show Padfoot to granny but come back after!""Can I do Tempesta and Paws too? I could sent them to big brother Ed and big brother Al!""Once you've finished the rest of today's homework."Ana smiled at the authorization and turned back toward the kitchen. As for Von Hohenheim, he let out a small forlorn sigh.On one hand, seeing the little girl with Ari made him realize he had missed all these small moment with his children.On the other hand, he had just seen the scarily skilled little girl perform a circle-less transmutation – and while Ariana had talked a bit about the child's background earlier, he hadn't taken it to mean that she had seen Truth at such a young age... ¤.¤.¤ "You know granny, when I first explained to you about my special abilities, you didn't want any part in it, saying you were too old too learn about strange otherworldly powers..." Ari said as she cut the vegetables"You want to invite me in this game again?" easily guessed the old woman "Why the change of heart? Is it because of your father?" "Von Hohenheim being a part of Chaos Game would be easier for all of us." nodded Ari, Winry nodded along her from the other side of the kitchen "But even if he is our father, you took care of us for all these years. I don't want to invite him before you." she blushed "I know it sound stupid but...""Alright, alright, I'll play along girl." granny Pinako gruffly agreed "At least I won't have to pay to have news from this ungrateful brat that forget to call home nearly every two weeks!""Hey!" Winry protested "I just have a lot of work!""Too much work to remember your old granny ?" Ariana smiled as she sent the familiar invite out, then took in charge the rest of the cooking as Winry patiently explained the basis of Chaos' Game to the old mechanic. Just as most of the lunch's was ready, Ana finally got out of her challenge – the little girl had last nearly two hour, an impressive feet coming from her, and despite seeming tired she was insistent about starting her afternoon work. Seeing as they had to wait for everyone to come back to dig in, Ari gave in and they headed out. Feeling her father approach thanks to her Soul Sense, she finally turned toward him as Ana reached the kitchen to show off her latest work, righteously proud of her progress.Seeing the expressive golden eyes, she didn't even need her Soul Sense to guess at his feelings.Dusting herself, she got up and walked toward the awkward man, amused – one would have thought that being four centuries old would mean he'd managed to gain some people skill, yet it clearly wasn't the case. With a smile, Izumi intercepted Ana as she rushed out of the kitchen and checked the rest of her homework, as father and daughter observed them."You are afraid of meeting her." commented Ari after a moment"I'm...""Still not a monster." Ari contradicted automatically, reading his feelings easily"You sound so much like your mother..." Von Hohenheim smiled biter-sweetly"Because she was right." the blond girl affirmed "Still its funny that you told me what you are, yet never asked me what I was, when we are the most similar and opposed existence on this planet..." she mused Von Hohenheim looked surprised at the affirmation – but he wasn't given the time to ask as granny Pinako stuck her head out of the kitchen "Time to eat!" Lunch had been lighthearted, Ana talking animatedly about her studies to an amused and impressed Von Hohenheim, while Teacher and granny were both commiserating about troublesome children making them worry. Lan Fan's attention was hogged by Winry, the Xingese girl fascinated by Amestrian automail, a technology that didn't exist in Xing, and couldn't because of the heat – somewhere among their talk, Ari's blood alchemy and its ability to be activated by non alchemist was brought up and seconds later Winry was deciding that Ari had to make some of this to work with her temperature-regulation array and the poor girl was dragged toward the workshop, where she spent most of the afternoon... ¤.¤.¤ "Will you tell me if I ask?"Ari wasn't surprised by the question, knowing her father he had been wanting to ask for the whole day"I will." They were heading toward a familiar old tree, the light of the moon brightening their path as they approached the old swing, unused for years and damaged by time and weather. With a light touch, the old wood changed, the swing looking much newer.Von Hohenheim noted the action. He should have been surprised, really, because none other than him or Father should be able to do something like this – because having enough knowledge about alchemy to do something like this, a step beyond the two-handed alchemy of her brothers was something that took decades and centuries of knowledge. "Souls are ever growing. Even if they forget everything from one life to another, they are changed by each and every experience." said Ariana, leisurely giving momentum to the sing she was on "When you say of someone wise beyond his years that he has an old soul, more often than not, its right."And right at that moment, the girl's eyes flashed, the molten gold replaced by a preternatural emerald green. "And comes a time when a soul is too large for a human body. Fortunately this world is far from being the only one, and the humans far from being the only living being with souls."She jumps lightly and take his hand, doing something she never had before as she shared her senses with her golden eyed father; who looked around him both in wonder and sorrow. This was something she could never do with her siblings, because their mortal body and soul wouldn't be able to take it.But this immortal father, for all that his soul was human – he could take it. And so he looked around, enraptured, at the large glowing aura of the old tree they were sitting under, at the feeling, a few hundreds of meters away, of the people sleeping in the Rockbell's house, of the small town even further away – then he felt the cries under their feet that she could feel every minute of everyday, the calmer feeling of the hundreds of thousand of souls within him, and finally he turned toward her, making her wonder – its not like she could see her own soul after all... "No wonder you couldn't stand being near me." he finally managed to say as she let her powers recess within her "Because your human soul was trapped within an immortal body, it has grown a lot more than it should have." Ariana said "In your next life you'll be something a lot more long-lived than a human. Except this time, it will be natural.""And Trisha?" he couldn't help but ask"Mother was an old soul." she remembered "But not old enough. She'll be human a few more time." a smile "But that doesn't mean you'll never find each other again." "Yet your soul is even larger than mine.""And forcing it back into a mortal body is a pain I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy each time." she admittedOf course, he picked up on the word, only rising an eyebrow in interrogation. "I told you didn't I?" a smile "You are a mortal soul trapped within an immortal body against your will." an amused smile "I'm an immortal soul forced within a mortal body by my own volition."They hadn't said a lot more that night, reconnecting in silence, Von Hohenheim watching as Ari eventually took out the stone that had been waiting in her Inventory the whole day. "This was Sloth's." she said in lieu of explanation, the tall blond nodding easily "Do you want to come along?" Intrigued, he accepted the invitation, stretching his fingers to lightly touch the pulsing stone. Once more, the familiar whiteness of the Gate met Ariana."Back, little Shadow? And with more of the lost souls at that!" Truth grin turned predatory as he aimed toward Von Hohenheim "Are you giving him to me too?""I'm not." Ari denied "The souls, you'll get back after Promised Day.""So you still show a bit of mortal selfishness." he commented, amused "That's reassuring." "I thought that you liked my acceptance of my immortal duties.""I do, but a child shouldn't grow up too fast! Not even a century and already more mature than my siblings were at a millennia!""What happened with your siblings?" "That would be telling!""Well I did give you back souls after all...""And you'd rather hear a boring story than gain another power?" he asked dubiously Her smile was answer enough, and Von Hohenheim was surprised to see the eternal entity that guarded the Gate looking – unsure – for a moment.Then with an even more out of character sigh, he said "Alright then..." [Hidden Quest Complete! The Truth of the Matter!Goal: learn about Truth's problem with his siblingsReward:+500XP per goal, Truth's Gate perk unlocked upon completion][Goal complete! +500XPGoal update: heal Truth][Level up! You are now level 59!+1SP] Ariana closed the notifications tiredly – the entity's revelations had come as both a surprise and an explanation to the source of all their current troubles.Von Hohenheim had been just as surprised as herself at the story, and as they left, had promised the one stuck beyond the Gate that he would do all in his power to put things right.Truth's surprise at seeing a mortal soul promising to help him had been amusing, Ari had to admit, but easily understandable now that they knew the being's story.After that, both father and daughter had walked back to the Rockbell's house, worn out by the encounter - and most of all, determined to vanquish Father and reclaim the stolen bit of soul that had been used to create him, all because of Truth's siblings...No being, human or god, deserved to have its soul torn against his will, condemning it to eternal suffering. Chapter XIII : 1914-1915 The convocation to Central Headquarter didn't come as a surprise to general Armstrong – after all a high-ranking commanding officer from Central had disappeared in the region that was under her command, they had to be seen doing something.And it gave Central a good excuse to put its own men in charge of Fort Briggs.Olivier Mira Armstrong repressed a snort. If those lazy idiots thought replacing her would be enough to loose her her men's loyalty, they were sorely mistaken. Miles had been clearly instructed, and on the same day as the search for Scar was declared a lost cause in the north, she was in a train headed for Central, the two Elric brothers and the rest of Mustang's team coming along for at least part of the trip.A few days after her arrival in Central City, news of the first battle against Drachma were already coming from her domain – just as that infuriating Mustang had guessed, blood was to be shed in Fort Briggs. She smirked. At least, most of it was that of the enemy – her men were prepared after all.She would trust her men to stay alive and hold the Fort, as for herself, she was heading into the lion's den and laying the trap. ¤.¤.¤ Riza smiled at seeing Roy waiting for them at the train station."So eager to ditch work, fratello?" she jokedThe alchemist's surprised but pleased reaction at this title made it more than worth having asked about it to Ariana. "You wound me sorella! Is anyone in this team still respecting me?" he complained without any harsh feeling beside the words"We all respect you colonel," corrected Havoc, amused "We just are also very aware of your shortcoming." he added, amused, before dodging the spark of fire aimed at him with the ease given by practiceOnce more, Riza reflected that gaining back his memories had made her long time friend even more irreverent toward the established hierarchy, which in turn had brought him closer to his subordinates. "Tchh. What are you doing here, you eyesore?"Roy twitched at the contemptuous greeting from the Armstrong elder sister. He knew well the problem the woman had with him – she though him too weak-hearted, not willing enough to make use of his reputation gained during the Ishvalian rebellion to rise through the ranks. He of course disagreed, as he had merely chosen a safer and more politically savvy way to reach toward his goal. "It's so good to see you as always, Mira dear.""It's general Armstrong to you, stupid playboy.""Of course Mira, how silly of me to forget." he agreed easily, avoiding he sword the next second with a smile while saying to Riza "Black Hayate couldn't wait any longer to see you, so I had to skip work to let him see you earlier.""How considerate of you." Riza nodded, amused, crouching toward the dog that was finally free to run toward her – carefully avoiding the scary blond from the north on his way "So the colonel really is able to take care of a pet." Havoc mused, awed"I told you!""Colonel, your pet is a lizard. That's not even remotely close to a dog.""Leon isn't a lizard, he's a chameleon." said colonel muttered as they exited the station, the chameleon on his shoulder making faces at Havoc "Is you team some sort of menagerie unit?" Armstrong wondered, curiosity nearly managing to erase the natural animosity in her voice"Sure seems that way sometime." Roy couldn't help but agree "And you haven't even met Padfoot..."As they neared the two military cars – one for the general Armstrong, the other for Roy and his team – they finally saw the reason why the colonel had come. "Rebecca!""Second lieutenant Catalina had some reports to submit to Central," Roy explained "she dropped by to see you, but of course you weren't there. Since your train was due any moment, I volunteered to drop her to the station.""My train isn't in another hour," said lieutenant said to Riza "Let's find a cafe." "You sure are easy going on your subordinates." Armstrong criticized "You really are a laid back lazy-ass.""Yet I was called to Central first, wasn't I?""A simple oversight from Headquarter, I'm sure." While the two officer made their way back to the Military District, Rebecca and Riza spent their hour gossiping about whatever had been happening in Central and East City – the two were after all long-time friends, and friendly rival.By the time second lieutenant Catalina was in her train back to the East, Black Hayate had a barely noticeable slip of paper hidden in his collar. ¤.¤.¤ "So, what's with the message?"Al smiled – he hadn't been sure whether the two men would come, but he had to try – and given the readiness with which Zampano and Jerso, the two chimera that had been partnered with them, had defected from under Kimblee's control, he had to try and help the other two chimera remaining in the Fort. "Your two colleagues didn't head toward Drachma."The two men shared an unsurprised look."They decided to try their chance and defect then." the blond – Heinkel – stated"I didn't think they'd have it in them." the other – Darius, a brunette – added "They probably wouldn't have if we hadn't given them an out." Al shruggedHe could see hope warring with distrust and doubts in their eyes – but in the end they had to know."What do you mean?" "You aren't the first our government experimented on." Al explained "And some of them escaped, and eventually found each other. There are nearly two dozens of chimeras living and working somewhere in the country.""Somewhere?" Al gave them a small, contrite smile "While I do want to help you, I can't put them in danger. But I can point you toward someone that can accurately decide whether you can be trusted with their location, or would just be selling them to the government. And if she decides you won't sell us, she'll tell you where to go."The next day, Heinkel and Darius didn't make it back to the Fort at the end of their patrol. Al smiled – Ed snorted, and called him a soft-hearted brat.And finally, the search for Scar was recognized as ended in the region, and they could hop back into a train – back to Rosembool. Nether Al nor Ed could really believe that at the end of their trip, their father would be waiting for them... ¤.¤.¤ In the days that followed their reunion, Ariana introduced her father to Chaos' Game – Anastasia enthusiastically adding her own, not always understandable, explanations on one part or another of said game.And their first time in the Arena had been a revelation. Oh, sure enough, a simple Observation had long ago told Ari the inner strength of her father – but numbers weren't everything, a lesson one had to remember when living with Chaos' Game. So she had taken the [Von Hohenheim (Living Philosopher Stone) LvMAX] with a grain a salt.She shouldn't have. Because her father may not be a fighter at heart, he had still lived throughout four centuries, learning and forgetting more about alchemy than anyone else along the way, but not only. Von Hohenheim didn't like to fight, and avoided using the souls within him as much as possible, but he still had so much knowledge and experience that he was on another level compared to her.He reminded her of her first life, and of the awe she had felt during the one battle she had witnessed during Voldemort and Dumbledore – because just as the old headmaster hadn't liked to fight yet had been a fearsome opponent when provoked, Von Hohenheim wasn't to be underestimated for his peaceful ways. That realization had been humbling for the fight-loving girl. And it made something else clear – if her peace-loving father was that scary in a fight, then the non-human Father that could plot the demise of an entire nation without a second thought could only be worse. In that moment, a decision was made – pacifist or not, Von Hohenheim would fight, times and times again in the Arena, to teach her, and when they came, her brothers. Convincing the man hadn't been easy, but Ari had one powerful weapon in her sleeve.Puppy-dog eyes.And four centuries or not, Von Hohenheim fell to them like any other father. So for the days preceding her brother's arrival in Rosembool, Aria, Teacher and Von Hohenheim had fought in the Arena, Ana and Mr Curtis watching from the Observation Zone, the little girl doing her day's written assignments at the same time.On the afternoon, they watched the little girl practical work while doing their own theoretical research – without surprise for one so ancient, Von Hohenheim shared most of Ari's knowledge about the different elemental alchemy types; what came as more of a surprise was that he was less knowledgeable in the practice of mixing two element together, and of course completely ignorant of Ari's own Blood Alchemy, and fascinated by it. Naturally, the rest of the house wasn't idle while they trained, Ling, Fu and Lan Fan using the morning for their own training, while Winry took advantage of her time off from work in Rush Valley to spend time with her grand-mother and share her latest learning with her. It was to this calm yet studious atmosphere that Scar and his party arrived, four chimeras in tow – apparently, Heinkel and Darius both could move much faster in their animal form, and as such had easily caught up with their group.The meeting had been tense, neither Ari nor Ana having forgotten about their previous meeting with the vengeful Ishvalian, and Winry acutely aware that this was her parent's murderer standing in her courtyard. But just as Ed and Al had been able to put their griefs to the side for the hope of another ally in their fight against Father, so did the girls.On the other hand the Xingese were far less controlled and had all jumped into fighting position upon seeing each other.Yes, even the panda. Then, after several tense seconds, Ling put his dao away, gesturing to his bodyguards to relax too, and bowed toward May. Ari noted that the bow in itself was telling – a lot of Xingese traditions were similar to Asians ones, and having been born and raised Japanese in her previous life she could easily read this bow as respectful and acknowledging the young girl as an equal, something she clearly didn't expect. "I'm sorry, princess," he said while straightening back up "that was rude of me, I'm not acting as a prince of Xing right now, and as allies in the fight to come, we should respect each other.""I am just as much as fault, prince." the girl answered back after echoing his bow "You are right, with the current situation we should enact a truce between our clans.""Who knew panda girl could do fancy talk?" Scar couldn't help but grumble – breaking the tension, and gaining him the ire of said girl's furry partner Meanwhile, seeing the people relaxing around her, took advantage of it to close her eyes, and let her hold on her holy powers recede – focusing on her Soul Art, she turned her gift toward the four chimeras, taking a deeper look into each of them.This was something she usually didn't do, as she saw it as a major breach of privacy, but Ed and Al has asked it of her in this situation – they couldn't sent untrustworthy people toward Shan Feng after all, it would put all his people and himself at risk. Thankfully, her brother had been right in his gamble, and she reopened her eyes with a satisfied smile, not realizing her eyes were glowing an unearthly AK green."They're good to go." she smiled toward her TeacherIzumi Curtis nodded along "We'll get home with them then." she smiled "We've left the shop alone for long enough, and it'll let us regroup with Shan's group.""You're taking us to the other chimera?" Jerso asked, uncharacteristically hopeful It was Ana that recognized his tone for the same feeling she had had the first time she met – others like herself.And so, without a second thought, the little girl let her illusion drop, Izumi following suit with an amused smirk "You can say it like that." ¤.¤.¤ While the Curtis couple, four chimera's in tow, had left Rosembool, Scar had finally revealed the worn notebook that had been behind his travel to the north. "While as a warrior sworn to Ishavala, I was highly revered by my people, my brother was always different..." he explained, absentmindedly running his fingers along the book's cover "He was fascinated by alchemy, and latter alkahestry, and soon faced a problem..." "There is nothing about alkahestry in Amestris." Ari couldn't help but end – after all she had faced the same problem younger, and had never found anything about it other than what Xingese travelers could provide, and her father's books"Exactly. But instead of letting it go, he paid the men that made the travel across the desert to bring him back books, and studied further." he went on "And one day, as the rebellion finally caught up to our village, he came to me, both arms tattooed." His left hand went to his own tattooed arm, sorrow briefly flashing in his eyes "This was the result of his work, he said, a fusion between alchemy and alkahestry. On arm to deconstruct, the other to reconstruct." his eyes were far-away, probably back to that day "But most of all, he told me to protect his notes because he had discovered something terrible, something that concerned the whole nation, and he'd found a way to counter it." It was Marcoh that took over "And we think that what his brother realized was that the circle that's being carved throughout the country isn't just an array for the Red Stone."This affirmation was a big surprised for everyone – just as much as the one that followed."It's also a way to cut off alchemists from the earth. When we escaped Central, there was a moment when May could use alkahestry, yet my own circle were completely unresponsive." Silence stretched for a long moment, everyone taking in the implications of this new element. Finally, it was Ari that broke the silence, her voice more cheerful than she really felt "Well, I guess we'd better start to study these notes then!"Scar nodded "I can translate Ishvalian when needed." he said "May already went trough what she could.""The language barrier doesn't help." the young princess admitted "But it's clearly brilliant theoretical work on the alkahestry side. The problem is that I don't know a thing about alchemy." The following days, the afternoon studies were replaced by Von Hohenheim and Ari pouring over the notes with May Chang help, and Scar's translation.To the Xingese girl's envy, the Von Hohenheim Inheritance was shining through, both father and daughter gaining a surprisingly fast grasp on the language – but the admiration went both way, as the two golden-eyed alchemists were impressed by the young girl talent, that was impressive too.It was the first time for Ari that she met another child with such advanced knowledge about alchemy, or rather alkahestry, other than her family. But as brilliant as Scar brother's research were, there was nothing in them that hinted at the secret the man had said he had stumbled upon.Until Ana, tired of her own work, had asked about the peculiar placement of the different diagrams in the notebook."Of course!" Ari sent a fond smile at her sister "It's encoded." "Well, of course it's encoded, all alchemists encode their work..." Von Hohenheim mumbled, a bit lost at his daughter sudden enthusiasm"No, I mean it's encoded a second time! But not in words like we were looking for!"With a swift movement, the binding of the notebook were undone, sheet scattering around her "Here, we're going to group them by keywords." A few minutes later, the spread sheet were depicting an all too familiar array..."I can't believe he saw it with just his own knowledge and intuition." Von Hohenheim couldn't help but whisper "Even knowing Father, it took me decades to guess at what he what doing!""To be fair, he wasn't nearly done back then." Ari tempered "But it is still impressive," she added, bowing her head toward Scar "your brother was someone to be respected.""Still, it there's got to be more to it, or he wouldn't have been so insistent that his notes be kept..." Ari nodded, thinking the same, and let her hand hoover above the circle for a moment, before her eyes widened, and struck by inspiration, she flipped the sheet near her. Catching on, the other helped, and soon another array was unveiled."He made use of Father's own circle to create a counter to it."Ari finally managed to whisper after studying the new array in silence for a moment "With this, the link to the earth of alchemists won't be cut." Her own notes appeared in her hands, not even caring that Scar saw her taking things out of her Inventory, and a map of Amestris on which the Stone array was drawn in red was placed next to the new array, and black ink-pen in hand she started inking it on the map. ¤.¤.¤ Ari sighed as she tiredly pushed her personal notes against the edge of her bed. The discovery of Scar's brother's array had been exhilarating, and the Ishvalian, to her surprise, had even agreed to contact the refugee throughout the country to put it in place – maybe it wasn't that surprising, now that she thought about it, it was after all his brother's life work. No, the real surprise had come when the Ishvalian had asked her to ink the second tattoo crafted by his brother on his left arm – she hadn't thought he'd trust her or anyone in their group enough to do something like that, they had been enemies just a while back after all.To her surprise, his eyes had strayed toward Ana while she was pondering this – and doing the long prep work to ink the tattoo she'd carefully drawn on his arm, and he had whispered "I'd have killed her as an abomination, you took her in as a sibling... Something like that... I can see my brother doing it..." a frown, as he admitted "This goes against everything we of Ishval believed in yet I'm sure my brother would have approved." She could see the conflict in his eyes – conflict between the Ishavalian beliefs, his brother's nature, and his own thirst for revenge. "What you fail to take in consideration, when you say that alchemists go against the natural order, is that alchemy works only thanks to nature itself." she couldn't help but comment "What we do with our circles and arrays isn't different than what you do with your own two hands.""Yet alchemists denies to gods. You did too when we met." "Alchemists rely on scientific evidence to learn more about the world and progress in their craft. Because of this they sometime forget about the higher powers. But any good alchemist come to realize that our existence is small, compared to the universe around us. How can we deny the gods when we understand this?"He looked at her silently, and she guessed what he wasn't repeating. "I did not deny the gods when we fought. I mocked you for hiding behind your god's precepts to justify senseless bloodshed. Something just as stupid as an alchemist refusing to understand about higher powers."He frowned at this, but kept still as she continued to work, and she could see that he was not only hearing, but also pondering her words. "So you believe in a god?" he finally asked"I believe in multiple gods." she contradicted "I believe in Life and Death, in Peace and War, Order and Chaos, Knowledge and Oblivion, and countless others..."He eyed her a moment, then nodded.Polytheism wasn't widespread in Amestris, but being part of a minority himself with his belief in Ishvala, he could accept it, even if it was surprising. "And which of these gods gave you the power to see in the soul of people like you do?"Ari spluttered, really not expecting this question, as he added thoughtfully "I've felt our priests powers countless times during the years of my training. Never did I feel such a strong holy connection." She wondered a bit, then like often, opted for honesty, not even knowing that once more her eyes had bled into emerald "Death." Scar had been mostly silent after that, Von Hohenheim ambling by and talking with Ari about her Blood Alchemy, which they hadn't had time for while they worked on the notebook. The golden blond girl had recently opted to focus more on Winry's demand for array compatible with automail, than the healing array for the emperor, as she had already made a good portion of the work with her existing array for automail. Von Hohenheim had as such spent part of the evening examining one of the array engraved in one spare-part available in Winry's workshop while his daughter worked on Scar nearby, and with the genius characteristic of their family, managed to produce a working blood array that would allow anyone to engrave a charged, working temperature-regulation array on a piece of metal with only the simple knowledge about activating the blood trigger Ari had worked on for Ling. As such, after a few explanation given by Ling himself, Winry had been able to take an array written with blood ink on a paper, and transfer it on a simple piece of metal. The technique to transfer it on small pieces, or less straight pieces, like the one for automail would have to be refined, but the basis were there.With this, Winry would soon be able to make automail that could go in the desert just as well as the cold northern weather for as long as she had a stock of already written and charged array - and her squeals at the idea had given everyone in the house quite a fright... As for Ari, she hadn't been able to refrain from looking over her father's work after finishing Scar's tattoo, despite the late hour, which is why she found herself drained, but satisfied as she closed her notes and eyes to the chirping of the earliest risers among the birds nesting nearby, not without having acknowledged her latest Personal Quest goal update... [Goal complete!+500XPGoal update: write a comprehensive essay about Blood Alchemy's basicsBonus goal complete! +3*750XPBonus goal update: write a book about Blood Alchemy][Level up! You are now level 62!+4SP, +2CP, +1PP] She had barely chosen the last part of the Spirit of the Pack Perk, Chinook's gift and it's Endurance bonus, before passing out on her bed, a small but satisfied smile on her lips. ¤.¤.¤ Ed and Al jumped out of the train before it had even come to a stop, the elder one leisurely stretching while the second one bent down to let their youngest sibling jump into his arms."Missed us?" Ed teased to hide his own happiness at having the four of them finally reunited "As if." his sister answered with a smirk, before hugging him and remarking "You've grown. Since when are you taller than me?" she complained"Of course I'm taller! I'm the elder!" "Yet you haven't been taller than me for years..." she muttered as they walked out the station "Everybody's home, they figured they'd let us have our reunion first." a smile "And Winry's made an apple pie!"Ed smile, that had been replaced by a frown at the word 'everybody' grew back at the mention of pie – or Winry, Ari was pretty sure it was a combination of both..."It's good to be back," Al commented with a smile, waving at the friendly faces welcoming them home "The north was really cold." he added with shudder Von Hohenheim was waiting for them a bit before the Rockbell's house, which probably was for the best as Ed's first act was to punch him.With his automail arm. "That was for abandoning us, and leaving mum alone, bastard." he stated after the punch, before lending him a hand to get back up, to the man's surprise "I'm sorry." Von Hohenheim said while accepting his hand – something evident, they all knew he could have evaded the punch, from what Ari had said of his abilitiesEd stared at him for a while "You better be." he finally agreed, before starting back toward the house, Tempesta on his heels"Wow. That went better than I expected." an awed Al couldn't help but state"Ed grew up a lot since that day..." Ari answered simply Al nodded.While Ed still had the most anger toward their father, he was also the one who remembered him the most – the one who missed him the most, then the one that had felt the most the weight on the world on his shoulders as he found himself, at five year old, the man of the family.All taken in, Ed's attitude had been surprisingly mature. Finally, he turned toward the elder blond that was patiently waiting for his attention – and his judgment."Welcome back, father."There was a bittersweet quality to the man's smile that Al had only ever seen in Ari's smile before, as he answered "I'm home." ¤.¤.¤ "Alright, this time we're getting the bastard!" Ed grunted as he picked himself up after a particularly nasty blowWell, not really a blow – more of an unstoppable wave of dirt and rocks that had downed him for the third time in this Arena session. They had been at it for barely half an hour, yet it felt like hours under the colonel bastard's sadistic training – and their opponent didn't even like to fight! This was infuriating, yet Ed couldn't help respect grudgingly growing for his father. Or rather Von Hohenheim – he still couldn't really think of the blond as a father, not after he abandoned them, but as a man, he could respect him. "Any idea?" it was Al that first reacted to his affirmation, recognizing it for the call to fall back and plot a counter-attack it was, and jumping back to his position"Not at the moment." he admitted reluctantly as Ari, who'd had the most experience fighting against him, was still dodging Von Hohenheim's attacksIt was looking at their fight that made him realize that the man wasn't a natural like their sister was – he wasn't even really a fighter, not even a defensive fighter like his brother. No Von Hohenheim was a survivor.Just like him. "He relies more on hindering his opponent than violence, or any proper fighting style." he remarked as Ari finally managed to join them"And it's really effective, mainly because he's able to predict most of his enemy's reaction with a frightful accuracy." she acknowledged"And Father will probably be able to predict people just as easily." "What we need are things he won't be able to predict then." Ed concluded with a slightly maniac smile "You did said combination alchemy wasn't his forte, and blood alchemy a complete unknown? Let's focus on that, then!""We aren't really combat ready with either type of alchemy..." Al protested, while remembering that he had managed to improvise an Ice array against Sloth"We've got about six months to get ready." Ari argued back, Ed's enthusiasm gaining ground "We'll be ready. And right now is the time to train!" Al couldn't help but let his siblings motivation contaminate him too – and Von Hohenheim, that had been patiently waiting for them to be ready to fight back, couldn't help but feel that things were about to get more interesting as three pair of glowing golden eyes focused on him with a new-found determination. Al took advantage of the heat of the last summer days – and just as an unnatural fog had helped them while hunting for Scar, the steam rising from the ground was soon making their battleground of the day much more dangerous, as Ari took advantage of the change in visibility to call her Night Flames to her and jump behind Von Hohenheim, Fuurin dropping into her finger with ease, the blade's edge nearly biting into Von Hohenheim's back before he abruptly dodged, more on instinct than because he'd seen her – but of course Ed and Al too had taken advantage of the steam, and the living red stone didn't dodge the icy shards that came toward him next, and fell right into Ed's explosion. "We win this round, old man." he affirmed smugly, before hunching his shoulders "I can't believe I used part of colonel bastard's circle..." he mumbled, face turning ashen "He's never going to let me live this down...""I'm sure Roy will be very... flattered." Ari sniped back with a sweet smileEd turned toward Al "This is for all the times I interrupted their sparring time, isn't it?" Al patted him on the back with a smile, knowing better than to say anything that would brought his sister's vengeance toward him too.As for Von Hohenheim, a bit surprised at their effective teamwork and inventive way of fight, he was smiling indulgently while letting them talk, happy to just observe the children he'd left alone for so long.And he couldn't help but wonder a bit at the man that was called a bastard even more regularly than him by his elder – the colonel that had recruited the three of us, from what he knew, and a man that was in their growing group of vigilante that were preparing to take the fight to the homunculi from the shadows. It was, after all, clear that this colonel wasn't only a commanding officer to them... With this, the first training session since the siblings had been back came to an end, and they were out of the empty Arena, Ari leisurely stretching "Well, at least Roy is interesting to fight," she answered to another disparaging comment from Ed "This was interesting but not enough of a training session now that we're back together." Ed and Al shared a glance, panic rising in their eyes as their sister's eyes took on a familiar glow "We really should do something a bit more challenging today, or Roy's going to think we were slacking off at home... and we wouldn't want that, would we?""No, of course not!" Ed gave her a shaky smile, just knowing she was coming up with something evil "You're right, let's train a bit more!" Al nodded along, silently praying for their survival"It's decided, then!" she crowed happily "Let's fight all the Homunculi Bosses !"Al whimpered – Ed barely restrained his own protest at the outrageous affirmation. While they had already fought the homunculi, in the Arena as well as in real life, it didn't change the fact that they were exhausting opponents – and you couldn't just take their Red Stone out in the Arena, it would have been far too easy... Von Hohenheim had met up with Ana in the Observation Zone, taking over her lessons for the day as Ari dragged her siblings in fights against Lust, Greed and Sloth one after the other.Exhausted, the tree siblings let the Arena fade away around them, stumbling in the garden and not moving from the ground. Finally, as they finally felt better enough to move a bit, they turned their attention back to the notification that had popped up as they exited the Arena. [Challenge Complete! Troubles always come in threes!You've fought three successive Bosses of the same level in the ArenaReward:+500XP, Crimson as Blood Perk (+10 to Blood Affinity)][Level up! You are now level 63!+1SP] "Chaos' is mocking us, isn't he?" Ed deadpanned, as he dismissed his own level up"Shh, don't complain..." Al hushed him "Free XP!""That's not free! It's a reward for letting Ari torture us!""At least she's not as bad as the colonel...""No one is as bad a the colonel..." the eldest Elric agreed with a shiver ¤.¤.¤ The four siblings had spent a few more days with the Rockbell before their permission came to an end, and they had to report back to Central City. During those days, they had gotten news from Dublith – Teacher and Mr Curtis had introduced the four transfuge chimeras to Shan Feng and his gang, and they were adapting well enough. Shan himself, now aware of Von Hohenheim's resurgence, and their alliance with Scar, had confirmed his own participation in the rebellion of Promised Day.The chimera were training underground, and would discreetly make their way toward Central in the Spring, where they would help the Ishvalian put in place the last of Scar brother's counter-array. From Scar himself, they wouldn't hear anything more for months, as he traveled with the Ishvalian refugee across the country to take care of the more out of the way parts of the array.As for Izumi, her husband and she hadn't wasted anytime leaving town, as they had heard that the military were looking for her quite insistently. As Von Hohenheim had confirmed the Elric siblings' theory about the inner layer of the Red Stone circle – in other words that Father intended to use those that had seen Truth in the transmutation of Promise Day – she had no intention of coming quietly.Teacher had thus decided to go on a training trip, heading north where she could transmit quickly any last minute instruction to the men posted there, while waiting for Promise Day. Von Hohenheim, that didn't want to be seen in Central too early on, would travel too, first following Winry, and helping the girl around by making the blood array that she would use for her high end automail, then trailing back toward Central City a bit before the fated day. On the morning before leaving for Central, Ariana had presented Ling with a large scroll carefully wrapped. [Secondary Quest Complete! A Prince from a Faraway land...Reward:+100XP, Enhancement System unlocked, +1 item-leveling token][Level up! You are now level 64!+1SP] The Xingese prince had guessed what it was just by looking at the solemn expression Ariana had. Bowing deeply, he took the precious scroll with caution, before turning to entrust it to Lan Fan."You promised to help me find a way to the throne, and you did." he said gratefully"With this, you are free to go back to your country.""We won't." he contradicted"I know." she acknowledged with a smile The three Xingese hadn't been on the train to Central with them – but they knew that come Promised Day, they would be there to fight by their side.And finally, the four siblings were back in the heart of enemy territory. ¤.¤.¤ "Welcome back, WindBlade! I'm glad to see you're better.""Thank you, sir." Ariana answered mechanically, still reeling in – she had expected Roy to be waiting for them at the train station, maybe with RizaNot the Fuhrer himself. And the man – or rather, homunculus – was looking mistrustfully around him, most of his face hidden in the shadows of his uniform's collar. A suspicion rose in the back of the girl's mind – and she couldn't help but voice it..."Did you escape your ordnance and bodyguards again?""Of course not! I just went back to headquarter ahead of them!" "The train station isn't anywhere near headquarter..." Ed sighed, having some trouble believing the homunculus could be just as much of a slacker as their colonelAl patted him on the back, silently commiserating with him – no way he was voicing their thoughts in front of the most powerful man in the country after all... "We still have a tournament to organize after all!""Another tournament?" Roy and Riza had finally arrived, the latter latching on the comment "The one General Grumman authorized was a very good way to check if everyone was keeping up with their training as well as they should!" she couldn't help but remark With that, the Fuhrer had easily taken the lead of their small group, and four very bewildered Elric siblings were soon in a car with him, Riza enthusiastically explaining how Roy and Ari's fight had been such a welcome change in the everyday monotony that the general had ended up organizing a whole tournament in the Eastern Headquarters. As such, as the days of the State Exam came by, the latest applicant to have gone thought the three traditional tests found themselves arbitrarily enrolled in Central's State Alchemist Tournament, one of the three tournament to be help at the end of September – the second being a tournament for more traditional fighters and the last, opened only to the top ten of each previous tournament, a free-fight type tournament where all blows were allowed.Needless to be said, most of the fresh out of the exam alchemists were steamrolled by their more experimented predecessors, and even while hiding most of their abilities, all three Elric siblings and the colonel Mustang easily made it it the top ten of the tournament. Of course, Ed and Al only took part in said tournament under duress – their colonel was sure it would be a very good opportunity to fight against various type of fighter, something they needed in order not to become too used to fighting each other.Ari's and Roy fight in final had been memorable, and both had barely remembered they were supposed to hide their abilities. Ed was also pretty sure most of the people that saw that particular fight had to know there was more to the two's relationship than just superior and subordinate – it was pretty evident to him.And indecent too, he was adamant about it. Ed's own fight against major Armstrong earned him the third place in the tournament, while Al's defeat against a veteran of the Ishvalian rebellion made him sixth in the ranking.The second tournament had been another story.Of course, Riza taking her place in the top ten hadn't been surprising.What had been more surprised had been the one against whom she lost the top spot. The King himself. And Riza knew that if they hadn't trained so much recently, she'd never lasted so long against the frightening man and his mastery of blades. Truly, it was no wonder he wanted a fight against Ariana – both were completely inhuman while wielding anything with a cutting edge.As for Ari, she wasn't all that sure she could afford to hold back against this man – because he fought as if he had no blind spot – which made her suspect what truly was hidden under his eye-patch. ¤.¤.¤ "There's no way this isn't rigged." Ed muttered as he looked at the matched up that had been drawn for the third tournament "Well the Fuhrer did say he wanted to fight against sister." Al pointed out "So of course he arranged the fights in order to face her.""The only contestants that could have been dangerous to her aren't in her bracket." the eldest Elric muttered again "This is clearly favoritism. What is it with this girl's ability to attract attention from dangerous men?" he wondered, unknowingly parroting his sister's brother of another life Al didn't answer, looking distracted – Ed stopped looking at the first match of the tournament, not all that interested in seeing Ari trash another weakling to focus his attention to what was currently unsettling his brother.And eventually spotted it. "What is this old bastard doing here? It's dangerous!""Well, I doubt anyone's going to recognize him." Al pointed out as they observed the currently gray haired man that was in the civilian part of the public At first glance he looked like any middle-aged, graying man. The two brothers knew their father well enough that they recognized him easily enough under the simple but effective arrays that changed just enough of his features to make him unrecognizable to anyone that wasn't looking for him – Al had spotted thanks to his dragon pulse, Ed thanks to his brother's attention on the man..."Tch, not like it's my problem anyway." Ed decided, turning his attention back to the fighting – his turn was coming fast after all The colonel bastard had been right, he had to admit after a moment – fighting against different opponents was good, even if he knew that he could beat most of them easily was he going all out.Riza's fight against Roy had been interesting, especially since the colonel mainly used Leon in his favorite firearm form during the fight – that and his traditional explosions, his gloves back on to make it look as if he still needed a written array to use alchemy. But in the end, the outcome had been pretty clear, and Riza was out of the fight, and Ed up against the man in his next round. "He isn't going to make that easy isn't he?" Ed couldn't help but sigh as he headed toward the fighting ground Al smiled in his back, amused – and glad not to be in his brother's place, because judging by the amused glint in the colonel's eyes, Ed was quite right.The next few minutes were just as painful as the eldest Elric had feared, Renato bleeding through Roy's fighting spirit."What did you say the colonel was in his previous life again?" Al whispered to his sister as the girl sat on the bench, having just finished her own opponent easilyGlancing at the ongoing fight, Ariana smiled, amused, as the tall man that was currently running circles around her brother, with an amused smile that was making girls swooning in the audience was more hit-man than colonel in her eyes. "Why Al, didn't your sister tell you?" the colonel answered himself while entering back the waiting zone with a grumpy Ed trailing along "I'm the best hit-man in the world." Al, who was in his sister's bracket contrarily to Ed, went up easily against all his opponent – until of course, came his fight against Ariana. While they made a good show of it, there never had been any real doubt about the outcome and soon enough, their sister was the winner of their bracket, and up against the Fuhrer, who had just finished his own fight against Roy. That fight had been the longest up to date, and while Roy had made a good show, his loss had been inevitable without ending up revealing too much of his abilities.And even like that, it had been hard not to reveal them, the Fuhrer's aggressive fighting style and obvious enjoyment in their fight making it a really challenge not to let himself getting swept in the fight's euphoria. ¤.¤.¤ Ariana stepped lightly into the arena, already erasing all the loud noises of the enthusiastic public from her mind and focusing on the tall man standing in front of her.To her senses, while King Bradley was clearly not human, he wasn't that similar to the other homunculus she'd met either – while the others had so clearly felt wrong to her thanks to her link to Death, Bradley had a more mortal feeling to him. With that, she broke into a sprint, Kiba held lightly in her left hand, a few of her throwing knives already sent toward her adversary with the right hand – without any surprise, Bradley easily dodged around the first blade, deflected the second with a precise strike of his own saber, and caught and sent back the last knife."What a beautiful blade." the Fuhrer commented as they crossed sword for the first time "I've never seen anything like it." "Fuurinkiba is one of a kind." she agreed easily, while jumping out of the path of his second sword, her hand touching the ground just long enough for a wall of dirt to be raised in the arena, cutting her from his line of sightOf course, she immediately stepped out of the newly created wall's shadow, several throwing knives of different sizes, all freshly made, rushing toward Bradley, who easily side-stepped most of them. Two blades found their mark against the Fuhrer – one which Ariana knew the man had seen; but his body hadn't been able to move fast enough to avoid; the other he hadn't seen, as the blade had been hidden within the shadow of a larger knife.Surprisingly enough, her opponent had been truly surprised at being touched – he had after all managed to breeze through his fights while getting touched by his opponents only once; and that opponent had been Roy... But rather than react in fear, or anger, Bradley's reaction proved that, just as Ed had said a few weeks earlier, the Fuhrer really was just like Ariana herself – and his eyes came alive as his interest was truly sparkled, and his movements became much more precise; and lethal. Ariana winced, as against the flurry of strike that followed, pure speed wasn't enough, but she didn't even bother to wipe the blood slowly seeping from the cut on her cheek, wondering absently at the strange luck that made the blade run along one of the stripes that marred her face when she let her illusion down.It really was a shame, that she couldn't fight this man as he deserved, going all out and granting him a warrior's death before she sent the soul he held within him back to Truth – because even if she didn't knew yet how to win against him, she would, for she had sworn to free all the souls still trapped within the Red Stone like the one she could feel in him... "Don't look so crestfallen, WindBlade. We'll be able to cross sword again soon enough. After all, you're not one to go down without a fight, are you?" Her eyes widened at the affirmation – was it possible that the homunculus knew of their knowledge about Promised Day? As if guessing at the unspoken question, his smile widened "Spring seems like a good season for a rematch, doesn't it?" And suddenly, any fear she had had that this homunculus would share his suspicions about her and her siblings with the others vanished.King Bradley may not be human, he still was first and foremost, a warrior, one in an aging body, that had found the one opponent against whom he wanted to go all out. He wouldn't say anything, if only to fight her again. A smile. "Spring it is, then."The next attack, she barely parried – and the follow up with his second saber, she didn't escape. While the civilians weren't surprised at their beloved Fuhrer's victory, they still cheered loudly for the young girl that had fought so bravely.As for the military, they could see beneath the appearances, and those smiles that seemed so benevolent to the public, they knew were in fact bloodthirsty - to think such a young girl could go up against the strongest man in the country and smile like this! ¤.¤.¤ Helping the young girl up, Bradley led the youngest alchemist toward the fighters waiting arena where the rest of the competitors were waiting, amused by the frown and the glare colonel Mustang was barely repressing.The homunculus had always found the colonel interesting – the one man among his subordinates that seemed to see through his front of benevolence, and yet could still stand tall in front of him, eyes full of defiance. How fitting, really, that this man that aimed to steal his position had found such a unique partner in the WindBlade – because whatever the humans around him had seen, that fight between those two had clearly been a dance of seduction rather than a fight. He probably would have felt jealous of Mustang's prize in this girl, had he been younger – but he wasn't, beside he was proud of his own wife, the one choice that hadn't been dictated in his life.That didn't mean he wasn't going to mess with the man that was looking him with such mistrust, ready to snatch the little alchemist out of his grasp as soon as he could."I do hope you intend to wait until she's fifteen before doing anything more than fighting, colonel."Whatever the dark-haired man had thought he'd say, that hadn't been it. The astonishment on the Fire Alchemist's face was very amusing indeed – just as the eldest Elric comment of "See, I told you this fight was indecent!"As fun as it was to mess with humans, the tournament was over – and as such it was time to get back to work.With a parting comment toward the blond girl of "Don't forget about our date, WindBlade!" he was off ¤.¤.¤ Realizing that the Fuhrer himself had grown interested toward Ariana hadn't been that surprising for Roy in retrospect – after all, he already had one life to get used to the fact that the girl he loved tended to attract dangerous people of all kind.It was precisely because of this that he'd first been attracted to her afte all. And thinking about it, it was easy to see that the homunculus had played him perfectly – the colonel had been both vexed and amused when he realized this.But the worst in that situation had probably been the gray-haired man that had joined them just in time to hear Ed's rant and add his own thoughts about it... "I wouldn't go as far as qualifying that fight of indecent, but it was quite... telling." the disguised Von Hohenheim said mildly, sharp eyes contradicting his easy-going toneHad he been a lesser man, Roy would have gulped.A four hundred year old immortal from a long gone kingdom was a far more formidable father-in-law than the Vongola number two had been. As it was, he met the man's glare with an amused smile "There is nothing to tell that isn't already clearly known by the bambina and I." "And the bastard's ego is back." Ed drawled, dodging without a thought the fireball carelessly thrown his wayVon Hohenheim had let the topic drop – it really wasn't the best place for an interrogation after all – but didn't forget about it, silently studying the man that so clearly meant more than he'd known to his daughter.The fact that his sons both seemed to know and accept it, yet hadn't said anything about it to him was, once more, telling – just as telling as the colonel's refusal to seek any kind of approval from him. He was still a stranger in the Elric family, and while they'd each welcomed him back to a certain point, Von Hohenheim was in no way the patriarch of the family – that role fell upon Ed's shoulders, a fact accepted not only by the siblings but by the people around them. The immortal didn't stay too long in the city, in order not to catch Father's interest, but his short stay was more than enough to let him see more about Roy and Ari's relation. And those few days were telling enough that he was barely surprised when he learned that the dark-eyedman had followed his wife from a previous life – the kind of easy understanding they shared was one seen only in old couple that had spent decades together and knew all about each other. Of course, it didn't meant he wasn't going to threaten the colonel anyway – and his eyes had a hard glint when he calmly announced to the alchemist that he'd kill him if he ever hurt his daughter too bad. Roy's eyes were just as serious as he nodded his agreement. Before Von Hohenheim left Central City, Ariana called him, Roy, Ed and Al for a talk that she couldn't avoid anymore."I've completed the ritual."Roy's eyes widened at that statement, while Al and Von Hohenheim shared an uncomprehending glance, not knowing what the young goddess was talking about – something she explained next, since to her knowledge Roy was the only one knowing anything about it. During the months it had taken her to blend her arithmancy, runes, and alchemy knowledge to create that knowledge, she had sorely missed Mizuki, or rather Luna Lovegood, the Ravenclaw faery's extensive knowledge about ritual something that could have really helped. But while she had sworn to her friend that she'd search for her again at each rebirth, that could only work as long as she was reincarnated in the world she was first born in...Still, even without the help of her last friend from the wizarding world, she had done it eventually, taking in account the similar ritual she had once performed on Mukuro and Chrome and adapting it to work with alchemy and holy energy. ¤.¤.¤ On the night of December 21st , the Elric siblings, Roy and Von Hohenheim were assembled in the basement of the house of their childhood – performing this ritual in Central City wasn't even considered, the energy surge that would follow a sure way to alert Father, as such the old Elric home had been chosen.Once more, the floor had been inscribed with a large, complicated array – the difference only evident for alchemists, as alchemical symbols were mixed with blood runes and the calculations behind the structures were made using both mathematics and arithmancy. Three secondary circle were evenly placed around the outer ring of the main circle, where Ed, Al and Von Hohenheim would all be using blood alchemy to power up the array and maintain its stability.In the inner circle, right into the center of the complicated array, Ariana and Roy were face to face, both barefooted and bared up down to the waist, FuurinKiba, blade out of its sheath, planted in the ground between them. "To save me, you'll have to kill me." To say this statement had provoked chaos in its wake would have been an understatement – but Ariana had explained further, and none of them could find any other way.The ritual that linked Chrome and Mukuro was one that had been created to save someone with a deadly injury by linking said person to another. Flame scientists had spent years studying it to reproduce it without magic, and when done, it had went on to save countless Flame-users life.But the need for one of the two participants to be on death's door in order to start the ritual, they never managed to get rid of. Ariana released the tight hold she usually kept on her powers, eyes bleeding into a familiar green as an ethereal aura of powers not meant to exist in this world filled the array, that started to pulse lightly, then stronger and stronger as the seconds tickled by and the moon rose, alleviating one of Ariana's main concern. The date and time for this ritual hadn't been chosen lightly, and she had long debated between All Hallow's Eve and Yule for it – the first was the one day in the year when the Gate that cut this world from the Immortal Realms could be opened the easiest, while the other was traditionally used in rebirth rituals; as such powering up the ritual would have been easier on the night of the 31st of October, but said ritual would work better on the 21st of December.Simply by feeling the power gathering around them as the night started, the young goddess knew she had made the right choice. On her nod, Roy took the dagger and buried it in her chest in one clean and steady move, the assassin's training evident in the economy of movements – his eyes never straying from her own.As one, the rune-chain drawn on both chests, curling around their arms in order to be linked by their fingers came alive, and the whole array followed, no longer gently pulsing but alight with a wild power trying to break free from its bonds. No one had really known what would happen at that point – but they had all expected for at least Ari and Roy to be taken to the Gate, or in the worst case, all of them. ¤.¤.¤ No one had expected time to freeze and a large and familiar archway to appear, three silhouettes appearing through it, careful never to get past the edge of their side. Of the three, Truth was recognized by all, while only Roy and Ariana recognized the other two. Death and Life. And both seemed so utterly amused, the young goddess, who was no longer dying but just was, couldn't help but wonder what error she could have made that resulted in the visit of two gods looking so entertained."When I made the hit-man into my champion to allow him to follow you I knew he'd eventually ascend." Life said lightly, forest-green eyes sparkling with mirth "But I didn't think it would quite that fast..." Ascend.The word echoed in Ariana's mind before its sense finally caught up with her.Her eyes widened. "Your ritual was sound." explained Death with a reassuring smile "But you made it with two mortals in mind."That statement explained it all, she realized – because she lived her life as a mortal each time she was reincarnated she considered both herself and Roy as mortals to enact the ritual. Except of course, she wasn't mortal at all, her soul simply wasn't the same as theirs, having evolved to accommodate the ability to live an eternity without going mad, and powers completely different from theirs.She should have known – after all those gifted with the ability to sense life had all known her to be immortal in her previous life. "Between your status as a goddess of Death and his as my champion," Life explained, confirming her suspicions "you triggered his ascension. Just as Death and you share the same gift, so will he share mine."The gobsmacked look on Roy's face as he too understood what was being said was one Ariana hadn't seen before – but then again, it wasn't everyday one was told he'd just accessed to godhood; and to add to it the former hitman was to be a god linked to Life! "The power generated by both the ascension and the ritual was enough to open the Gate, so Truth gave his accord for us to come and explain to you what was happening, rather than just being told via Chaos' Game." Life continued to explain, seemingly unperturbed by her new godly sibling's astonishment "As for the primary goal of the ritual, it did work... just a bit more permanently than you expected.""We'll see you both when you're back in the Immortal Realms." Death concluded "Enjoy the rest of your life!" ¤.¤.¤ With that, the Gate grew transparent, and started to disappear, Truth being the last to disappear, still laughing – and with the last flash of light of the disappearing arch, time started back, and the runes glowing upon both Ariana and Roy condensed into two familiar symbols, the Arcobaleno pacifier and the Deathly Hallow, each imprinting itself on top of their heart, slowly pulsing to the same rhythm – that of Roy's heart. The energy rampaging around them focused on the symbol, and the array darkened.All fell to their knees, utterly spent. [Event Completed! Blood of my Blood...Your life-span is now linked to that of your husbandReward:+ 1000XP, soul-bounded title "Two are One"(so long as your love shall last, you will share your strength: Soul-mate Shield unlocked)][Level up! Your are now level 66+2CP, +2PP] [Grimoire  update!  Soul-mate Shield When two people are bonded through soul, blood and spirit, they can protect each other via an intangible shield that can absorb part of the damage coming at them.Chaos Game 2.0 Shield Points will deflect half of any incoming damage until depleted and are calculated thanks to both HP. Their regeneration rate is calculated the same way.] "Well," Ed was the one to break through the stretching silence "The bastard's now a god, and Ari will live." a shrug "Good enough for me."Ariana nodded slowly, still in a daze about what had just transpired – as for Roy, he stated "I don't really feel all that different.""I didn't either." Ariana explained "The change to the soul happens naturally, and gradually, so you won't really realize its happening contrary to when Chaos mess around his Game. You should just unlock a new skill line which develop your powers like my Hallow skill." The Flame alchemist nodded, having already dismissed the notification about his new Pacifier skill – and really, how typical of Chaos to have chosen this name! Ana, who had been waiting for them with Padfoot, Tempesta and Paws, smiled as they came out of the basement, relieved that her family was back, and alright - the little girl had been told to stay at the Rockbell's but had refused, and they had eventually relented.A few moments later, the group of five exhausted alchemists and one little girl was fast asleep in the living-room, the couch having been transmuted into a large mattress by Ed, who was the first to drop asleep, Ana snuggling into him following within seconds. Al smiled at his elder brother's antics as Ari and him soon followed, their sister preventing Roy from leaving by snaking a hand around his wrist, pulling him into the pile – and as Von Hohenheim was leaving, Ed commented "All the sheets have been gathering dust for years, just stay here you idiot." before shifting on his side, already back asleep From each side of their elder brother, Al and Ari shared an amused glance. It was a bemused Winry that found the the next morning, before being playfully pulled into the pile by Ed – and only the fact that the rest of the siblings were so entangled with him saved him from the wrench she regularly hit him with. All five alchemists spent the following days regaining their energy, all of them drained from the ritual – and as December was replaced by January, the Elric siblings and the colonel Mustang went back to Central, each day bringing them closer to Promised Day.   Chapter XIV : Promised Day 1915 [Life Quest! Darkness passing through the world...note that the War Time Map System has been enabled for this eventGoal: Survive the EclipseBonus Goal: gather War Points (WP)Reward: 5000XP, 1 mutation to be unlocked, Map System to be unlocked, 1 S-grade Enhancement Stone to be chosenBonus Reward: 1000XP for each 2000WP gathered, 1 S-grade Enhancement Stone to be chosen for each 5000WP gathered, a mutation unlocked for each 10 000WP gathered][System Log: War Time Map The War Time Map automatically monitors the area where a battle is fought. It monitors the on-going fight and give out War Point according to the strategic objective conquered, boss enemies vanquished and so one...] ¤.¤.¤ Wrath was different from his siblings, this was something the homunculus leading Amestris had always known.Maybe it was because of the way he was created, a hand-picked human, trained from birth to become Fuhrer, that had managed to survive the implantation of the Red Stone in his body. Maybe because of that training he'd been given, that made him a true military man whereas his siblings only followed Father's orders. Or then again, maybe it simply was because contrarily to his siblings, he lived and worked with humans on a daily basis. Whatever the reason, he was different. He didn't look down on humans, he admired them – because these imperfect, inferior creatures were ultimately the one that created them, something all his siblings were swift to forget; because they endured and survived against all odds, something he, as a warrior, found praiseworthy.And it was because of this admiration that he chose not to say anything as he pieced together the truth of Colonel Mustang's unit – he would let humanity one chance, and Promised Day wouldn't be a genocide, but a true test of survival of the fittest.There was no doubt in his mind that the one to come out on top would be them homunculi, but humanity would still have it's chance – and he would have his fight against the WindBlade. The day the then three Elric siblings had gone through the National Exam, his interest had been aroused by them for the first time. Realizing that the two boys had evidently attempted human alchemy, and survived at such a young age was one thing – but it was the sister that had been the true surprise. Her way of practicing alchemy, he had never seen before, and where her brothers had the eyes of survivors, she already had the eyes of a warrior.During the following years, he'd kept an eye on the siblings, and slowly his interest had enlarged to the whole of Mustang's team, while at the same time focusing on the petite alchemist. While they were never doing anything obvious, he sometimes wondered how none of his siblings had understood that somehow, they knew. He hadn't understood immediately of course, and probably wouldn't have caught on at all if he hadn't been so intrigued by the Elric siblings – but somehow, they were always there in the cities where blood-shed were supposed to happen, and rumors about the philosopher stone, though regularly amplified by the homunculus, were always quick to die out in the East.All of this, so clear to his strategist mind, passed by unnoticed by his siblings, and so Wrath decided to sit back and watch, enjoying the struggle of the humans against their inescapable fate – struggles that would come to a glorious end on Promised Day. Now, all he had to do was wait for his date with WindBlade.And hope he hadn't misplaced his trust in the girl – because Wrath was different from the other homunculi, and one of these differences was that his body was aging, and would fail him sooner or later.He refused to face eternity in the body of an old man when he could still die in a fight. For this reason in particular, he refused to go to the East when rumors of an uprising were heard, and instead sent Envy as a body double to overview the joint exercise between the Eastern and Northern armies – he wouldn't let himself distracted and called away from Central where the true action would be held."Seems you were right, Fuhrer" the title, like always, sounded like a mockery in his eldest siblings mouth "the train coming back from the East was ambushed above a river. For now, no survivors have been confirmed." the homunculus trapped in a child's body announced "Well, no human survivor, Envy already contacted me from a nearby town, he's on his way back." he amended with undisguised disdain for said humans Then the first explosion was heard.Wrath smiled, put a hand on his blades and mindless of his sibling starting to talk again, headed out, focused only on finding one unique girl. [First Wave Attack Successful (Chess Pieces attack in the outer city): +500WP] "You have changed, Roy-boy."The colonel nodded, not surprised Madam Christmas had seen through him. She had raised him, after all, and had always understood him better than anyone else – bar Ari. "So I guess you finally made a move toward your girl?"This time he gulped – no way was he letting Ari near the Madam anytime soon, this would be way too dangerous. For him.Nearby, Riza barely contained a snort while checking her hand-weapon, before announcing "It's time, fratello.""Time indeed, sorella." he nodded before turning toward the woman that raised him "We're off.""I'll see you later." acknowledged Madam Christmas, both guessing the words of caution that went unsaid The two military officer were soon out of the sewers, not far from the Fuhrer's mansion, and securing Mrs Bradley.While she could have been considered a hostage, she really wasn't – and when they told her she had to be protected, they really meant it. In the chaos the coup was sowing, the wife of the Fuhrer could easily be used by any of the general working with Father, and they didn't doubt one of them would try it, or any other harebrained scheme, once they realized they were doomed. [Person of Interest protected: +500WP] General Grumman restrained a smile as an aide run toward him, and urgently whispered him the news he'd been waiting for ever since the Fuhrer left the East, alerted to unusual moves from the Ishvalian in Central a few hours before."Time to end this exam, send teams to the wreck. I want to see King Bradley's body before confirming anything.""Should we sent word to Central?""Of course! They need to know if anything happened to the Fuhrer, after all." The aide nodded and went away running on to his next task."Aren't we heading to Central as planned?" Major Miles, who was leading the northern troops in this exercise, asked"I wont be satisfied as long as I haven't seen that man's body." the elder man contradicted Miles sighed inwardly, wondering if the cunning general was planning on making Mustang's team take all the blame for the coup. If that was the case, the man was loosing his touch – for the arrogant colonel already had a backup plan, of course.With a shrug, he let the topic go and informed "We'll leave it to the East then, Briggs will head out." [Sabotage Action Successful (Train attack): +500WP] "Shall I eliminate him?" Selim Bradley asked idly, eyeing the silhouette of the Fuhrer who was currently heading out for an unknown reason"Leave it be, Pride." Father walked out of the shadows slowly"He has been acting strangely for a while.""It doesn't matter, even if he had betrayed us, which I doubt, it wouldn't matter, our plan will be coming to fruition within a few hours after all." The small homunculus nodded reluctantly, then asked "What now, then?""Gluttony will accompany me. Right now, the sheep are panicking at the news of their beloved leader's death. As for you, I want you to take a look at those attacking and report to me." The eldest Sin nodded to his Father, and shadows rose and twisted around him, giving off a malevolent feeling. General Olivier Mira Armstrong was barely maintaining her bored front while waiting for the news to come from the East – listening to the useless and constant bickering of the pieces of dirt that where the highest ranking officer in the country had quickly become tiring, and she was looking forward to revealing her true allegiances, if only to shut them up.Without surprise, the news of the Fuhrer train's explosion provoked chaos in the room – but still the blond general of the north continued to wait patiently – her time to act would come soon enough. As the chaos was peaking in the room, old men shouting at each other like children, a hidden door opened silently – and an inhuman presence made itself known. "Calm down, my friends, I will be taking over." a smile "Right now we've got to deal with the more important... The coup. We've got to stop it before the eclipse, we cannot let those usurpers come in the way of our glorious plan." Father sedately announced"We've closed Headquarter, and several squads are out of the walls to take out the rebellion. According to the first reports, it seems to be an attack orchestrated by the Colonel Mustang.""This is ridiculous! Mustang's squad doesn't even have a dozen of men!" "But what they do have is four experimented State Alchemists." calmly remarked Armstrong while Father left them to their bickering "And hand-picked men each more skilled than the other. Not to talk about the Hawkeye."An aide knocked on the door, and quickly made its report to one of the general, before getting out of the room just as fast as he'd come. "These bastards are mocking us!" raged the general, slamming his fist on the door before passing out the written report"Mustang's grown soft." laughed Mira "And you top coat of Central are even worse," she mocked "the man is leading a rebellion with less than twelve men, is even holding back, not killing anyone and only hurting them... Yet you still haven't caught him! This is ridiculous!""Hold your mouth, girl! Do you think you could do better?" A snort. "Of course.""So cute." another smirked "You think you're here because you earned a position among us? You're our hostage, as long as we've got you under our thumb your northern men won't dare try anything against us.""You clearly don't know Briggs' soldiers at all! Survival of the fittest is our iron law, if the circumstances calls for it, they know to leave me behind!""Yet you still behave so defiant, even though you've seen our secret weapon? I don't know if you're brave or just stupid." [Second Wave Attack Successful (Fort Briggs' experimental tank): +500WP] The ice queen answered with an amused smile, and as if on cue, another explosion was heard, far nearer than the previous.Her boys were right on time. "You are nothing but prey for the northern bear's." she affirmed, finally letting go of any restraint and slicing the nearest of the annoying men's throat"You... are you rebelling against us too?""You really are blinded by your ambitions aren't you? Do you really think the creature that calls itself Father will honor its promises?""We are the chosen who will change Amestris and the world! Sacrifices are necessary to bring forth change!" "Who are you trying to fool, making pain and suffering into some kind of noble gift?" a swift movement, a bloody blade – and then there was one "Well, general. Looks like its you and me now." [Person of Interest Eliminated (3 General) :3*500WP] "Well, looks like we won't be getting underground the same way Scar did." Ed remarked as the Elric siblings hid behind an alchemically made barricade "Even with the men from Briggs opening the way it'll take way too long." Ari, who was monitoring the homunculi presence around noted "judging by the way the homunculi have been moving around, there should be an entrance in about any Research Laboratory."Ed smirked "What a lucky coincidence, we're just by the Third Laboratory!"Ari smiled back, before announcing "You better get going then. There is only one homunculus between you and Father." "Not coming?" Al asked, only half surprised"I've got a date to uphold." his sister answered back "I'll see you later.""Hurry up, or you'll miss all the fun." Ed warned, his personal way of telling her to take careVon Hohenheim took a step toward her – and gave her a brief, but unexpected hug before following his sons in the opposite direction. Ari smiled. While she didn't like leaving her family as the final battle was drawing upon them, she also knew that her own role was coming to an end. She had been by their side on every step of the journey leading them toward this final confrontation against Father – now they would realize they didn't need her. After all, she was there to help the heroes – she wasn't one herself.By her side, Padfoot pressed his large head against her tight, mentally assuring her that everything was going to be alright. [Infiltration of Father's Underground Lair Successful (Edward Elric) : +500WP][Infiltration of Father's Underground Lair Successful (Alphonse Elric) : +500WP][Infiltration of Father's Underground Lair Successful (Von Hohenheim) : +500WP] Scar and several team of Ishavalians that had helped him travel the country to put in place the necessary circle needed to create his brother's nation-wide array were sneaking through Central, taking advantage of the chaos created by Mustang's team, then the northern soldiers, to place the last of the circles. And soon, only one circle, carefully written on a sturdy scroll, was left – this one to be placed at the center of the array. This is where things would start to get a bit more complicated."Ready to take on the headquarters, Panda Girl?"A firm nod was his answer from the young princess – as her panda let out a feral growl quite surprising for such a small beast [Infiltration of Father's Underground Lair Successful (Scar) : +500WP][Infiltration of Father's Underground Lair Successful (Mai Chang) : +500WP] General Clemins, another of the generals working with Father, was the one heading Central's counter-attack against Mustang's men and the Briggs' troops – and because he hadn't been in the war council chamber when Armstrong attacked, he also was among the last of Father's generals to be alive. "Central command! This is main gate! The outer gate has been breached, and there is what appears to be a Briggs' tank firing at us!""No need to shout, I can see from here! Return fire!""But general! We haven't finished the civilian's area evacuation!""If we wait we'll lose the main gate! I'll take full responsibility!" This time, the explosion was much louder – and it wasn't coming from the courtyard but the building itself, as a large, weaponized, automail arm came under the general's throat. "I sincerely hope you weren't about to order them to shoot at the civilian quarters, general."Said general immediately recognized the man's weapon "You... You're from Briggs! How is it possible?""Colonel Mustang may not compare to our general, he does have a highly competent team." Captain Bucanneer admitted as his platoon took command of the place "We had the exact blueprints of your Headquarters!" "It doesn't explain how the hell you managed to enter!" the Central officer protested"We had an unexpected ally." the northern solider answered as the woman they'd caught pilfering their provisions a few weeks ago stepped beside him with a large, feral smile"Who... who are you?" Clemins stammered "Normally, the polite answer would be 'just a normal housewife'... But just this once, I feel like bragging!" Izumi Curtis answered wildly "I am an alchemist!" [Third Wave Attack Successful (underground tunnel): +500WP] [Headquarter Command under Control: +1000WP] "Eat the traitorous woman general. But don't eat the alchemists, we need them as sacrifice." Gluttony nodded emphatically at Pride's instructions and the smaller homunculus left – the large beast then started sniffing around, his nose soon leading him to the main courtyard, just as the large doors barricading the headquarters started to tremble, and exploded under Briggs' experimental tank.Just behind the northern soldiers, a dozen of chimera poured in the courtyard, Shan Feng leading them. "Ah, home sweet home, how nostalgic." the former homunculus smirked"Greed. You're not an alchemist. That means I can eat you." the large homunculus stated before charging toward them, a gigantic mouth opening from his stomach"Glad to see you haven't changed, brother." Shan commented, as his men all jumped out of the way, having been prepared to it thanks to their leader's briefing on the homunculi he knew about abilities "And my name is Shan Feng now, not that you'll have any use for it." The Central soldiers in charge of defending the headquarter weren't as lucky as the chimera – and a dozen were engulfed in the monster's mouth under their brother-of-arms horrified eyes."Oups." Gluttony noted, before adding "Ah, but its alright they aren't alchemists!"The remaining soldiers, already destabilized by the announce that the headquarters were now under northern command, realized they weren't going to be spared in the large beast's attempts to do whatever task it had been given. Several froze, most stopped firing at the invaders, wondering whether to flee or continue fighting by the monster's side... [Head-quarter's Main Gate Opened: +1000WP] "What are you waiting for!" the last brigadier general not having been caught by Armstrong walked into one of the large underground laboratories where their secret weapon was stocked "This is exactly for situations like these we made all these Philosopher Stones!" he proclaimed, disregarding the protesting scientist to maneuver a lever "The mass soul-injecting experiment aren't complete!" continued to explain the scientist as the large tank holding countless small red stones started to come alive, the stones glowing as one and moving from the tanks toward tubes - tubes feeding hundreds of grossly humanoid figures..."Our immortal soldiers will put an end to this ridiculous rebellion!" The red glow reached the figures, and their mono-eyes opened as one as they let out a blood-curling scream before unplugging from the tubes linking them to the tanks, walking toward the scientist and the general. (It hurts)(I'm hungry)(mama)(feed me)(father)(help me) Multiple unearthly voices rose as the creature approached them. The general gulped before smiling "Yes, that's right, I'm your father. Come to daddy!" (Daddy) "Yes, good child, obey your daddy."They let out toothy smiles – and as one they were suddenly on them, biting at military and scientist indifferently, not caring about the bullet wounds that were closing as soon as they were opened.Soon, the screaming humans were silenced, and all that was left was the constructs disturbing voices as they escaped the underground laboratories where they had been engineered. ¤.¤.¤ From within the tunnels they had easily found within he Third Laboratories the two Elric brothers and their father shared a worried look at the nearby inhuman voices that had started rising. ¤.¤.¤ Overground, Ari shivered as she felt the awakening of countless unnatural existences.Seemed like she had already found her next task after finding the Fuhrer. [Radio Station under Control :+1000WP] Denny Brosh was on leave – and thus still sleeping when the first explosions woke him up.Quickly putting on some clothes, he went banging on his neighbor's door "Hey, Maria, do you know what's going on?"She opened immediately – contrary to him, she was an early riser, and explained "No I was trying to get a hold of a radio station, but it seems like the network is down..." Just as she was saying this, the familiar voice of the radio animator of the hour started speaking again "We're now interrupting your normal program to give our loyal auditors some news about the situation in the city! Civilians are asked to stay inside in order to avoid unnecessary casualty in the brave tentative to regain control of Central Headquarters from the General Council who are suspected of trying a coup while Fuhrer Bradley's away on an inspection in East City. As a special witness, we've got Mrs Bradley here with us." Second lieutenant Ross and sergeant Brosh shared a glance as the Fuhrer's wife explained how men from Central trying to stop Mustang and his men had tried to kill her, considering her as expandable, and about how Central Headquarters were under lock-down without any communication coming from them.Both of them understood that something more than what was said on Capital Radio was going on – and while they didn't know what exactly, one thing was clear. The Elric siblings were right in the middle of it. Both had seen more than they let on during the brief time they had been assigned as guards to the three State Alchemists, and they understood that something wasn't right within the military command. Now that the time had come, their choice was clear.Some of Mustang's men were at the radio station – this would be their first stop. [New allies acquired: 2*500WP] "We have just learned that his excellency's train was caught in an explosion during an early return from an inspection to the East. With the events happening in the capital, it is quite clear that the Fuhrer had guessed at his generals treachery and was coming back to take care of the situation himself."second lieutenant Breda was announcing to the radio speaker, Mrs Bradley's sobs audible in the background "Colonel Mustang already knew that we couldn't trust the top brass in Central. It's clear they are trying to overthrow his excellency." When Ross and Brosh had arrived and announced their wish to help out, they had soon been succinctly updated on the real situation, and put to contribution. "We on colonel Mustang's side, we may not be as capable as his excellency, but we share his vision for Amestris. For the sake of justice, we will stand and fight against those corrupt individuals."Brosh smiled, amused – Maria's impassioned speech would be well received by the public – and it would put them on their side with only vague affirmation. Justice could mean anything after all. Back in East City, general Grumman was laughing merrily, impressed by the way Mustang's team was turning the situation to their advantage. [Public Opinion Influenced: +500WP] "What are these abominations?" loudly protested May, while fighting her way through the humanoid beasts, Scar by her sideThe Ishvalian, while not as loud in his opinion about the monsters they were facing, was pouring his feeling of disgust into the fight, putting to good use his new tattoos and the months of training he'd undertaken while traveling the country clear in his fighting style. Neither had stopped moving while fighting – and soon the tunnel filled with monsters they were in led them into a larger underground chamber, where people were already fighting."About time you got here." commented Ed in his usual gruff style "We were starting to wonder if you were eaten by these abominations.""Hardly." scoffed Scar "And where's your sister?" "On a date."The Ishvalian didn't bat an eye at the affirmation, having long since come to term with the fact that the Elric siblings just didn't answer to logic – something quite paradoxical for alchemists.The sister most of all – and if her brother said she was on a date during an important battle? Well she probably was – yet still fighting one way or another... "My sister! I have come to your aid!""Tchh. As if it was needed, you eyesore!" Mira Armstrong had found her way to the courtyard, one general still held hostage – the man had shouted at the soldiers present to assist him, but they were still reeling in from Gluttony's attack and as such hadn't reacted immediately – the general had then called to the homunculus, having recognized it as it was accompanying Father earlier.The general calling to the monster that had just killed their comrade without a second though was what decided most of the soldiers – and the chimera now had unexpected allies in uniform against the homunculus, making the hostage general scream in outrage. That was when Major Armstrong had appeared.In the next moment, both siblings jumped out of the way of Gluttony's rampage, Mira abandoning her hostage to move quicker while her brother took advantage of a flying bit of concrete to work his alchemy and start counter-attacking. "Don't let yourself get eaten." Shan Feng warned the newcomers "No one ever came back from this mouth."The warning was acknowledged by a simple nod, and the fight was back on. [Person of Interest Eliminated: +500WP][New ally acquired: 500WP][Enemies changing side (Central Soldiers): +500WP] After protecting Mrs Bradley and dropping her off with Fuery and Breda, Roy and Riza started their way toward Central's Headquarter – meeting up with Hughes on the way."Weren't you supposed to stay with your wife to protect her and the kids?" acerbically asked RoyThe other man didn't take umbrage from his tone, knowing it was more from worry than anything else "Winry'll do that, that girl is scary with her wrench." he stated, knifes flying toward an enemy "And I had the itch to try the new knives you crafted for me." Roy rolled his eyes, Leon in his pistol form taking out another soldier in the knee while asking "Well, time to work out a bit and see if all those years working in Central didn't dull your edge then." he teased Contrary to the Elric siblings, the trio wasn't hiding themselves, voluntarily calling a bit of attention to them as they headed toward a secondary entrance toward the headquarters, known only by officers working in the Intelligence department - in an attempt to make the homunculi disregard the Elric siblings apparent absence."We've got one homunculus waiting for us." warned Roy as Ari's warning flashed on Chaos' Game interface "That's about what we expected." nodded Riza "According to Shan's data, Envy is probably the one who replaced Bradley's to the East, Bradley is probably looking for Ari... So it's either Gluttony or Pride."Soon, they were to the gate, a small child-sized silhouette negligently leaning against the outer-wall – terrifying shadows swirling around it.Riza immediately recognized the homunculus for the one she had glimpsed in the underground array where they'd taken care of Sloth. "Pride it is, then." she stated, Shan having easily identified him from the description during one of the coup planning sessions Ari called the Wardrobe Windows to the front – and switched from her usual outfit to one she hadn't worn in a lifetime."A special outfit for a special date." Roy had laughed while handing her out Leon's latest, yet familiar creation, her husband proving once more how well he understood her The leveling-item that usually looked identical to her siblings' red coats was in fact a haori acquired from her previous life which had the quite useful ability to change shape to suit it's owner – and that haori was now back to its original form, that of a luxurious yokai red silk haori, decorated by hand with fiery foxes, a black armband, originally only sporting a howling wolf, but now also harboring her Teacher's Flamel.Under the haori, a white kimono and black hakama mini-skirt made by Leon, all enhanced by the more powerful Stone she possessed. As for her shoes, they were the sturdy, knee-high Amestrian military grade boots she had used her leveling-item token on years before. Completing her outfit, her Alpha-mask was on the side of her head, near the silver chain she was born with, where charms from her precious memories and presents from previous life were hanging – her fingers glided upon the gleaming black feather and bright emerald to stop on the illusionary pearl hiding her true features. With a pulse, red alpha mark, thunderbolt scar and Hallow tattoos appeared on her face and hands, as her eyes turned to an AK green pulsing with power. Black Flames burst to life around her, and she was gone. ¤.¤.¤ "You came.""Did you ever doubt it?""Not for a moment." Fuurinkiba barely was out of her sheath fast enough to deflect the first of the Fuhrer's famous four blades, and they were soon dancing around each other too fast for any novice fighter to follow.King Bradley was the first to draw blood, blade twirling and leaving a crimson trail along Ari's left arm – the young goddess replying in kind in the next moment, one throwing dagger stopped by the warrior's hand, the the second piercing through his shoulder. "Even if my eyes are all seeing, my body cannot follow them anymore it seems." the man noted biter-sweetly, before letting an impressed smile grow on his lips "Still, you've improved, WindBlade." The young goddess smiled at the praise - during her years traveling the country, her focus had more been on her alchemical skills, and general efficiency as a fighter.For her promised fight with Amestris' leader, she'd been selfish, focus a lot of her training purely on her blade skills, honing them to be on par with what her former self had been as an assassin, leveling enough to gain her Savant Mastery, giving her an increased boost in both Intelligence and Agility, on top of a new one in Luck. And all this training had paid, as she could now keep up with the strange homunculus with only her blades where she had formerly needed all her skills to merely defend herself. The warrior eye's marked with an Ouroboros, usually hidden away by a patch, was focused on the graceful girl, whose movement with a blade were as flowing as those of a dancer – and he couldn't deny that each passing second of their fight saw her speed increase, faster than he thought a human could go."Shall we stop playing around, girl?" he asked, letting the Red Stone that sustained him heal the wound left by Ari's blade.Said girl's smile was echoed by the preternatural glow of her eyes, and her automail hand was surrounded with the familiar glow of alchemy "You asked for it, old man." "Old I maybe," he admitted as he rushed toward her, two blades in hand "But I'm not yet old enough to be killed by a human!"he tauntedAri's next attack was even faster, the girl stopping the oncoming blades with Kiba in her left hand, and her bare automail on the right side – the mechanic arm opening and launching the three daggers usually hidden within.Her smile was just as feral as his when she answered "Then you're lucky, homunculus. After all, I'm no more human than you are!" she freely admitted, while doing her own unique brand of alchemy Fighting against Pride was like fighting against an army of deadly shadows, the human-looking form he inhabited nothing more than a husk for his monstrous true form. As soon as the Flame Alchemist and his two fighting partner had identified the homunculus, their first move had been to even out the play-field by provoking a large explosion – the large dust-cloud rising in its wake an efficient way to hinder the inhuman shadows, while barely hindering to Roy, who had trained himself to fight through any kind of visibility – but especially through the dust-clouds inevitably provoked by his alchemy; Riza, both through training and her Cat's Eyes mutation, was just as much at ease in the dust, while Hughes, while hindered, was still alert. "Nasty colonel, rebelling against the government he's working for!" Pride mocked in the clouds, probably hoping to identify Mustang's position through his voiceRoy didn't answer, taking advantage of the dust to creep toward the child.The barely visibly spark of the firing gun was enough for the homunculus, who jumped out of Leon's fire just in time. "Have you no shame, attempting to murder a kid like that?" the homunculus taunted again"None at all," confirmed the alchemist "After all, the army trained me to kill innocent, didn't it... And well, you're hardly innocent!"Pride's smile was quite disturbing on a children's face "What a peculiar man you are, colonel, you seem to already know what I am..." "Your brother was right, Pride. Your arrogance does make you underestimate people. Be they human, or homunculi.""Oh... So Greed finally came out of hiding? I'll have to pay him a visit as soon as I've dealt with you then. What a bad boy, selling out his brother. I should eat him." Throughout their talk, neither colonel nor non-human had stopped attacking, each avoiding the attack of the other, to the homunculus' growing annoyance.As for the newly ascended god, he was putting the first of his holy power into use for the first time, enhancing his healing ability even more than his Sun Flames usually did, along with all of his reflexes – trust the former hitman to find a way to use a gift called Healing Art as a tool in a fight. This was going to be a battle of attrition, one he didn't plan to loose – one that would only end when Pride's Stone would be too depleted to sustain him any longer. Gluttony was perhaps the stupidest of the homunculi, according to what the former Greed had explained – but he was also the most sturdy now that Sloth was gone, bullet wounds healing as soon as they hit him, not even slowing the stupid and hungry monster down in his attempts to "eat the blond general".But even if it appeared hopeless to the soldiers fighting, Shan and his chimera knew that each wound was taking its toll on the homunculus' Red Stone – and attack after attack, his attempts at eating the people around him were slower and slower, even if it was barely noticeable. Just when things were starting to look up in the courtyard, the immortal army attacked. "What are those things?" one panicked Central soldier asked in the initial wave "They just won't go down! Are they with you?""Don't compare me to those disgusting monsters!" General Armstrong vehemently protested "They are just like this guy!" she added, pointing at Glutonny "They were sent by your superiors!" "We didn't hear anything about this!" the soldier protested while once more shooting uselessly the creature"Of course you didn't! It's not as if those assholes cared about your opinion! Take their heads out, at least they wont be able to eat us!" The soldiers that didn't manage to snap out of their panicked state were soon dead – as for the other, there wasn't any doubt whatsoever about assisting the Armstrong siblings and the chimera anymore. "We've got to close the door," the Major Armstrong realized "if those things get out in the city it'll be a carnage!""We'll keep this thing's attention, you close the door then!" a new voice announced"Who are you people?" the blond general asked suspiciously "Prince Ling Yao of Xing," the only unmasked man of the trio introduced himself"What's a Xingese doing here?""Repaying a debt." the prince answered, before assessing "Look, my presence here isn't really relevant right now. Protecting your people is far more important.""You're right." the female officer admitted, turning toward the Central soldier that had somehow started to follow her commandment "Focus on forbidding any of these monstrosity from leaving the Headquarters! Brother, take care of that door! Buccaneer, protect him!" she concluded toward another new arrivant Nearby, Shan had effortlessly jumped out of the way of Gluttony's hazardous attacks and landed nearby the three Xingese "Glad to see you. We'll assist you against the homunculus.""It is appreciated."Everyone having found their utility on the battlefield, they all moved with far more efficiency than they had been before. [Head-quarter's Main Gate Barricaded: +1000WP] Major Armstrong may have been more used to mold his alchemy around his very physical fighting style, it didn't mean he had no knowledge of other applications of the science – and while he wasn't the fastest, he did the job required of him soon enough.Meanwhile, all the chimera had been working on harassing Gluttony, working side-by-side with the Xingese. Still, the fight was on-going, and a dodging Ling soon realized that his old bodyguard was slowing down – the man was scarily skilled, but the constant jumping around to avoid Gluttony's dangerous ability was taking it's toll on the old man's body. Four heavy duty grenade of Xingese origin were eaten as if they were nothing by the monster, making the prince pale a bit – to think not a rumble had been heard or seen of the explosion that had to have happened within the homunculus...The maneuver to throw these grenades had been risky, and their lack of result was disheartening – but the prince didn't have time to let it affect him, as his attention was drawn to a panicked shout of "GrandPa!"Ling's eyes sought his bodyguard – and he understood just as Lan Fan had that there was no way he could reach the old man in time to get him to safety. A scream followed, and blood splattered as once more body parts disappeared into Gluttony's mouth. "Tchh. Being greedy was less dangerous." an unsteady voice half-joked, half-complainedShan had managed to get to Fu in time, pushing him out of the way – but he hadn't been fast enough to completely avoid his former sibling's attack, and even a body reinforced with carbon wasn't enough to protect himself from that monstrous mouth. "Mister Feng!" a distraught chimera called"Calm down, boys." he reassure them "I won't bled out, my ability is still good for that...""But... Your arm!""The siblings' mechanic friend will make me a new one. It's not as if I can't afford it. Focus on the fight, the old man and me, we're going to rest for a bit."Said old man, who was now by his side and helping him move out of the way, nodded his head in thanks "I own you my life." "Don't fret old man," Shan waved the thanks away "After all, we're all here to help those siblings. Letting allies die when it could be avoided would have been bad form, even for a former villain!""I think you and your team more than prove than humanity is about more than looking human or being born as such..." retorted the Xingese with a tired smileThe former homunculus didn't answer – but a small smile was dancing on his lips at the other easy acceptance of his boys and him.This was a humanity worth fighting for. ¤.¤.¤ With both Shan and Fu out of the fight, the situation had become all that much harder to hold for the people fighting both Gluttony, and the immortal army – then, the characteristic 'whoosh' sound of a heavy powered alchemical reaction was heard, and an large earth spike rose through the ground, catching the homunculus unaware and drilling through on of his arms, stopping him for a split second, before a hard but clearly feminine voice announced "He's all yours, darling." The next moment, a large, bearded man was rushing at the non-human, tackling him by the side and throwing him against a wall – a feminine silhouette sporting a fluffy black tail rushing by his side to continue the attack, alchemy circle springing to life between her hands in the unique way of those who had broken the taboo. The Curtis had joined the fray. Major Armstrong, having closed the breach into headquarter, jumped back into the fight, side by side with his sister – and for someone that knew the blond woman, it was plain to see that the female warrior was proud that her brother wasn't even thinking of backing out of this battle.Maybe the man wasn't that much of a wimp, after all... It was quite disturbing to realize that as his frustration grew, Pride's way of expressing himself became more and more childish, somehow fitting of the form his Father had given to him. "Can't you stupid insects stop moving!" the child-like creature snapped "It's so annoying! Don't you see you're just going to die in the end?""Even if we do die, we'd at least fought until the end." Hughes retorted "That's part of being human!" "What's the point of rebelling against nature!""That's rich coming from you!" Roy mocked "Your so called Father was created by a man, and yet here you are attempting to destroy us... Aren't you rebelling just as much as us?""Because we're superior!""Yet for all your so vaunted superiority, we're still alive, aren't we." Hawkeye taunted This was the comment that made the homunculus turn around in the dust – realizing too late that his focus had been taken more and more by the alchemist, to the point that he'd managed to forget that he was also facing the vaunted Hawkeye of the Ishvalian conflict.And forgetting about a sniper never was a good thing, a lesson he learned in pain the next moment a bullet pierced his young body just between the eyes. His body was thrown to the ground under the power of the attack, and the several seconds it took him to get back up were enough to have Roy drawn nearer to him, a trench knife in one hand, a spark in another... Deadly wounds hurt, even when you were immortal. Still dazed by the shot he'd just taken, it took a moment for the eldest homunculus to realize that his lashing attacks weren't doing as much damage as they were supposed to – but once he realized it, he quickly pinpointed what caused his problem. Pride wasn't an alchemist, so he didn't know what chemical reaction was behind the bright light that surrounded the knife, forcing his shadows to receded at least temporarily, but one thing was clear, even for a neophyte like him – the circle creating this reaction had been activated with one hand, and no gloves, something only the WindBlade alchemist had ever done before.This was some unforeseen development, the homunculus mused as he felt his Philosopher Stone work overtime to repair the damage done by the colonel's fire-arm – and hadn't said weapon been a chameleon just a second before? Still, it was unfortunate, but he would have to retreat for now, since the insects were unexpectedly well-prepared to fight against him.Or rather, that was what he would have done – hadn't back-up finally arrived in the form of one crazy-eyed alchemist."Mustang, long-time no see!" greeted the mad-man as he walked out of the pin-point explosion that finally cleared much of the dust created by the colonel's one The former hit-man didn't answer, Leon already firing at the new-comer without missing a beat.Kimblee stopped the the bullet with a clap of his fingers that created a small explosion that negated the incoming attack – or rather would have stopped the attack if Leon had been any normal fire-arm. The Red Lotus alchemist's eyes widened as the bullet went through his counter-attack without any problem, and only his war-honed reaction-time helping him move partially out of the way, the bullet hitting him in the shoulder rather than the heart. "They even gave you a Red Stone to play with," commented Roy idly as he watched the wound he'd just inflicted heal under his eyes "And here I thought mad dog were to be put down.""Tchh. I don't weight myself down with all your useless morals, colonel!" retorted the other as he attacked back with his own explosionsHughes, who'd been closing in on the man too avoided fire without a thought – being friend with Roy and loving to annoy him like he did, this was an ingrained reaction by now. ¤.¤.¤ Pride, who'd taken advantage of Kimblee's arrival to heal himself as much as he could soon came to the conclusion that while the mad alchemist had been useful for a while, said usefulness had clearly come to an end, as even with a Red Stone, the man was being toyed with by their opponents."Don't worry," he commented as his shadows rushed toward his ally "You'll live in me." The next moment, he was retreating through the backdoor. "The little fucker's trying to run away!" Hughes swore, still reeling in from the shock of seeing the homunculus eat his own ally"Don't be hasty!" Roy tempered him down as they followed the child-like being inside "Apparently, the headquarters are under attack from the inside," he continued, barricading the door they'd just gone through while informing his friend of the latest development "And I think he's done underestimating us," Riza added "the next part of the fight will in his own territory, and far less easy." she commented as they headed underground, fighting against the dolls animated by Philosopher Stones that were now attacking anything in sight within the military quarter [Infiltration of Father's Underground Lair Successful (Roy Mustang) : +500WP][Infiltration of Father's Underground Lair Successful (Riza Hawkeye) : +500WP][Infiltration of Father's Underground Lair Successful (Maes Hughes) : +500WP] Wrath wasn't surprised by the young goddess affirmation.Had it been months before, he probably wouldn't have believed her – but as they fought this time, she had no care to held herself back, and he could feel her power, a power that far exceeded that of any human he'd ever encountered.There was still one thing he didn't understand... "Why? Why do you fight for humanity?"The look of total incomprehension at his question was soon cleared as he felt her powers brush against him "Oh. I wondered about it, but you do consider us as inferior, just like your siblings, don't you?""And you do consider yourself part of such a powerless race, when you are clearly so different." "I was born human." she easily admitted "Several life ago, in another world." a shrug "And its by my deeds as a human that I transcended humanity.""And now, what are you?"Ariana laughed light-heartedly "Oh, I'm someone your Father will be very surprised to encounter, trust me." "So you're here to kill him?""No," Ariana smiled "That's what my family would have done without me.""Do you really think they'd be able to? They are only humans after all.""And that's precisely why they can do it. Humanity seem so short-lived and powerless to others... But it is precisely because we are born with less that we learn to adapt, endure and eventually win against more powerful opponent, or survive where no others could." To the Fuhrer, it was clear that the girl in front of him truly believed in what she was saying, truly believed in the victory of humans upon homunculus today – and the warrior found himself curious about it.Was it really possible?Was Father so utterly wrong, and doomed?And if, like she had said, killing Father wasn't what was supposed to happen anymore, what would happen when the nation-wide array was activated? Still, those were questions he wouldn't have the answer to just now, as the WindBlade had stepped up her fighting, now including the alchemy skills she was famed for with the beautiful sword fighting she'd shown earlier. And while he'd left his mark on the young woman, blood marring her white kimono from a nearly fatal strike and bruises on her legs as silent witnesses of their battle's violence; he wasn't unscathed either, two of his four sword broken in half by the alchemist's automail, a large bruise on his temple and blood from a wound to his ribs that broke two of them and nearly took his right lung... "This is the most fun I've had in years." Wrath admitted as his sword left a red trail along Ariana's throat "But I'm surprised your colonel let you come here unaccompanied!""Roy already had a lifetime to get used to the fact that his wife attracts dangerous people." she answered, laughing lightly at the admission "And he isn't one either to turn down a fight to death, so it would be a bit hypocritical of him to restrain me. That's not how our relation works." With that comment, she jumped toward him, and while he easily parried Kiba, the dagger in her other hand, glowing with her Crimson Edge array, was hidden from his eye by the flowing movement of her haori's large sleeves.In one cut, the homunculus lost all usage of his left arm, not loosing the whole arm only due to the fact that he jumped out of the blade's way as soon as he felt it. Then, he faltered for a second, and his knee hit the ground as the massive wave of pain was processed. ¤.¤.¤ "Ah! This is really pathetic!" a familiar voice laughed out "The high and mighty Wrath taken down by a tiny, little, girly alchemist!""Envy.""I'm back from nearly dying in your place, brother, missed me?" a snort "What am I saying, of course not! Say! Do you want me to finish you, to avoid the humiliation of being killed by a human?" Said 'human's' aura flared as she heard the homunculus mocking his sibling – then, her powers still swirling around her took in the second homunculus true feelings, and to her initial anger, pity and compassion were added."I hadn't realized last time we met, how truly pitiful you were, Envy."The shape-shifting homunculus finally turned his attention toward her – or rather ,as he had already identified her as the WindBlade alchemist, toward the mask on her head. His eyes widened, and rage was heard in his voice as he growled out "You! You're the piece of shit that did in Lust!" "And nearly killed you." she idly reminded him "Yet I hadn't realized at the time, that you were so jealous of humanity... Of our emotions, our resilience and our bonds...""What the hell are you talking about!" he screeched, rushing toward her, only to be stopped by Wrath's blade "What are you doing, you fucker?" "You are interfering in my fight." the warrior informed him coldly, managing to still appear imposing despite his wounds "I don't fucking care about your fight! You're already loosing! That bitch is toying with you, she could already have taken your stone! Just like she did to Lust! Just like she tried to do to me!""I'm not toying," Ariana corrected "I'm fighting him as a warrior, rather than as the assassin I'm naturally inclined to be." she easily admitted "It all comes down to respect, in the end." Wrath's eyes widened at this affirmation, and he nodded toward her – she was good at hiding her true nature, since while he'd identified her as a fellow fighter, he'd missed her assassin inclination – just like the girl was saying, her fighting him along his rules truly was a sign of respect between fighters.Of course, Envy didn't like the easy, and quite obvious understanding between the two supposed enemies, and made it known loudly, and in his usual colorful language. Ariana interrupted him with a slap – shocking him speechless. Power twirled around her, much heavier than a few seconds earlier. On Chaos' Interface, notifications where flashing everywhere, as unleashing her Past Life Aura directly propelled her to level max within this world being much more limited than Earth in term of powers usable in it.She didn't really care, attention focused on the adolescent-looking homunculus, whom really felt like a child to her, envious of things he couldn't understand because of the way he was made by Father, and whose only answer was lashing out to avoid admitting it to himself. "It alright to be jealous of humans," she stated in a surprisingly gentle voice "but it's not them that you must blame, but Father. He is the one that made you as you are.""Defective?" Envy lashed out, affirming rather than questioning"Unbalanced." she corrected with a smile "But not irredeemable." Wrath was just as surprised at the alchemist's affirmation as Envy – then more surprised again, as he realized that the fury in his elder sibling's eyes was, even so slightly, replaced by hope.She had been right then, and somehow it was fitting that it simply had been envy toward humanity that the homunculus had kept hidden behind his brash attitude and loud mouth. "How?""Just like Greed did."That affirmation was a surprise to both homunculus – then Wrath laughed "So he really was in Dublith when I sent you there, wasn't he?" he had thought the lead a false one when the gambling den had been closed without any problems "Do it."Wrath wasn't surprised at the quick acceptance – maybe unknowingly, the girl had provoked him into accepting by mentioning their long disappeared sibling.In Envy's mind, there was no way he wouldn't dare to do something Greed had already done! ¤.¤.¤ At another time, Ariana wouldn't have done it as freely as she was doing it right now, but there wasn't an hour left before the beginning of the eclipse and the fight against Father – right now she could do anything in Central without worrying about the original homunculus' reaction. And so, her holy powers hummed around her, and she took Envy to the Gate. Truth couldn't help but laugh as he saw her arriving "You're saving another one, aren't you." he stated rather than asked "You may not have the title of Hero anymore, you still have that Saving-People Thing, don't you?"The young goddess shrugged, and blushed lightly, not having any real argument to oppose to him. "Well, lets make it short," sighed Truth without any real heat in his tone "You, homunculus, are lucky enough to have been deemed redeemable by the little goddess." Envy's eyes widened at this information, and the God of their world went on explaining, like he did to Greed "I'm taking back your Philosopher Stone, which would kill you in normal time. But since our Shadow here tied your consciousness and body with a soul, making you mortal, even if not human. Which means no alchemy for you, but does give you access to the whole panel of emotions, instead of the few unbalanced one you had, and your powers are still yours to use, just don't get killed, you wouldn't want your savior's hard work in giving you a true life to go to waste too soon!" The usually loud boy could only nod his mute agreement as he was already feeling different.Better. As soon as they were back in Central City, Ari turned toward her familiar."Padfoot." there was no surprise left in either homunculus and former homunculus as the dog started to listen to his owner as if he understood her "Envy is now like Greed." a nod "Lead him to his brother, I'll find you later."A bark of agreement, and the large black dog turned expectantly toward the new mortal, who started to follow him, still a bit stunned by what had happened. [Hidden Quest Complete! For it is in passing that we achieve eternity...Envy will now have the chance to experience the true meaning of being aliveReward:+1000XP, Homunculus Envy added to Boss List, +1 intermediate main characteristic tome][Level up! You are now level 76!+1SP] Then, just as Wrath and Ariana's attention was getting back on each other, he snapped a bit out of his daze, and shouted, voice a bit more like his usual loudness "Shadow! Thank You!" The girl smiled, then turned back toward Wrath. [Person of Interest Neutralized (Envy):+1000WP] Fighting their way, first through the chimera-beasts guarding the way to Father's lair, then through the immortal dolls wasn't easy, even if with the versatility of their group's abilities, they soon found their rhythm and plowed through the enemies with efficiency, lead on by May Chang and Alphonse's Dragon Pulse. "There is an homunculus nearing our position." May Chang announced worriedly"Pride." confirmed Al, explaining to the surprised princess "We're in touch with a few people. Ari just took care of Envy and is still fighting against Wrath...""So that was her date." Scar couldn't help but comment, mirth clear in his tone"Teacher is against Gluttony in the courtyard..." Al continued, undisturbed by the interruption"And that lazy-ass colonel let Pride get away from him." Ed concluded "So he's the one coming this way, but the bastard probably isn't far behind." "Good, then." the Xingese girl nodded "Because we're nearing the center."It wasn't long after she made this statement that they reached a large room, with countless pipes and other equipment on the walls and ceiling, keeping a large open space on the ground.This, the alchemists of the group quickly recognized, was a laboratory where alchemy was regularly used.And, most surprising of all, the immortal army, unrelenting until now in its attack, had been progressively thinning and had by now completely disappeared, making this room the first empty space they had seen in quite some time... ¤.¤.¤ "Oh, visitors." or rather, not completely emptyAn old man, with the common white blouse of a scientist was sedately making his way toward them"Who are you?" Ed asked, the first ready to jump into the fray as always"Me? I'm the one who created King Bradley, among other things." That did it – while this clearly wasn't Father, the affirmation at least confirmed that the scientist was of said homunculus' side. Ed jumped toward the man, that commented on an aggravated tone "I should have known you'd react like this! Boys, go buy me some time!" At his call, several old but powerful soldiers rushed toward them "Those aren't puppets anymore." quickly realized Ed as they started to fight once more"Of course not," the scientist bragged "These are the men that failed to become King Bradley. They may not be as powerful as my master-piece, they still are far better than those mindless dolls you encountered earlier." "General! Central soldiers are regrouping and attacking the outer wall of the Headquarters!"The blond woman swore loudly – they had better thing to do than waste their time with infighting! The inner courtyard was still over flowing with the unnatural dolls of the immortal army made by Central general's, and Gluttony, while he had indeed been dealt deadly blows several times, had always stood up after each of them... "Honey, we should finish things up." the fox-chimera alchemist stated after looking at the darkening sky "The main part is about to start..."Her husband agreed with a grunt, and she barked orders to the other chimeras around her, who'd naturally turned to her for since she'd arrived – seeing that they seemed to have the situation under control, she turned toward her brother and several Central soldiers, all too hurt to fight, but fit enough to walk "I want you to patrol the walls and reinforce them whenever needed, we can't waste time with those attacking from outside when it's the abominations inside that could literally eat us!" As for those still fit – she would continue to lead them against said abominations. "You're hurt sister," her brother remarked – she glared at him to make him shut up, but it didn't work, as her officers had heard"He's right, general." Buccaneer commented, taking in the large bite she'd manage to hide until then "You should evacuate toward the infirmary with the others.""I'm needed there!" she answered with a frown"We're Briggs soldiers, Ma'am." he contradicted "We know how to operate even without a leader. After all, you taught us best." With that the discussion was closed – and for once, Oliver Mira Armstrong had lost the argument "Very well then, you're in charge captain." ¤.¤.¤ While the blonde woman was evacuated with Shan and Fu, Izumi Curtis had efficiently made the chimera take turn in harassing Gluttony. She wasn't trained to feel the Stone like Al or Ari were – but, she realized as Lan Fan and Ling landed near after an attack, she did have Xingese at hand. Calling them to her, she asked "You are both trained in the Dragon Pulse?" twin nods "I need you to pin-point the origin of this homunculus life-force."The two Xingese shared a glance – they weren't trained to such an accuracy, but if it could help... "We'll do it." nodded Lan FanThe few minutes it took seemed like an eternity – but finally, the female bodyguard eye's shot open and she affirmed, with unshakable certainty "It's within his mouth!"Teacher's eyes widened at that affirmation – Gluttony's monstrous mouth, which devoured anything it it's path; how on earth were they supposed to reach the Stone there! "That mouth is a fake Gate of Truth," commented an unknown voiceSurprised she readied herself for an attack, and turned toward the newcomers – then relaxed as Padfoot greeted her with a laid-back bark"Who are you?" she asked, still a bit suspicious"I am, or rather was," he corrected himself somewhat shyly, in a stark contrast with his outward attitude "Envy."Izumi couldn't help but smile "Ah, so you found my pupil then." Padfoot gave an affirmative bark "That girl does tend to try and save everyone that wants to be better..." The former homunculus gave an uncertain smile, then went back to the previous topic "Father tried to replicate the Gate of Truth when he made Gluttony. Of course, it didn't work, you can't just replicate the Gate." Izumi nodded "But it still made Gluttony unique, when he eat things, they are sent to some sort of inner alternate reality. It's somewhere in there that his Stone is kept." "But if it is made the same way the true Gate is made... Then opening that Gate should work to escape his mouth..." the alchemist realized, before frowning "But I won't be able to localize his Stone either way...""I'll be able to." Ling volunteered, under his bodyguard protests"Do you... want me to come too?" the former homunculus asked, not really understanding why "I'm no longer immortal, but I still know how to fight..." Teacher's smile was quite motherly when she denied him "You already helped enough. Go see your brother, I'm sure he'll be happy not to be the only one anymore." the non-human nodded, and started to follow Padfoot again "Kid!" he turned toward her "His name is Shan Feng now... you'll need a new one too. What about Min Feng?"Envy smiled in answer, and was soon gone. The fox alchemist turned toward the Xingese prince "Are you sure about this?"He smiled in answer "Trust me to find this Stone, and I'll trust you to get us out of here."She nodded, and when Gluttony next opened his mouth, then didn't jumped out of the attack's way... "I'd never realized," Wrath commented as he attacked Ariana again "That of my siblings, I was the only one content with my life." "You are different from the other homunculus I encountered." Ariana answered while parrying his sword "Father embedded his emotions in each of you, making you unbalanced beings. But somehow, your existence is far more coherent than that of your siblings. As if Father was less your parent than theirs.""Ah but then again, just like you I was born human." the Fuhrer finally admitted "I was born, raised and trained to become the leader this country needed to carry us all to Promised Day. And at the end of my training, I was tested along with the other trainees, and survived the Stone implantation. It took my eye, and made me a homunculus." "So similar yet different..." Ariana couldn't help but remark, thinking about her first life while deflecting his next attack and answering with own"Ah, but this is why this is such a good fight." Wrath noted, absentmindedly wiping the blood dripping from his browShe nodded, completely agreeing "Fighting only for ourselves, with no greater cause, order, or reason..." a smile "You would have made a good assassin." she said, easily imagining the man fitting in with her Night Pack or even the Varia from her previous life While they'd talked, she had felt the man weakening, the wound inflicted just before Envy's arrival having taken it's toll, and his Stone, different than his siblings', not able to heal him anymore. Her next attack was the last. ¤.¤.¤ Amestris' Fuhrer was dead before his body touched the ground, a smile on his face.Ariana reached with her powers, feeling the depleted Stone, and a familiar array lit up around her, as she found herself facing Truth once more. "You didn't need to come," noted the god "This Stone is already depleted, and the souls within will find their way back to the cycle by themselves... So... Why did you come?"She took a look a the Red Stone still slightly pulsing in her hands, and nearly whispered, more for herself than the other god "The homunculi don't have a soul, they completely disappear when they are killed... Yet Wrath, he had a soul originally. It was assimilated by the Stone, yet it's still there...""Re-attaching him to his soul will take him back into the cycle." confirmed Truth, following her reasoning "But his Stone is far too spent to pay this price. This is a toll for you to pay. Are you really willing to do this for someone already dead?" A smile. "Even more-so that he's already dead." she affirmed, not realizing her powers were softly glowing, synchronizing to the Stone in her hand "After all, I am Death's sister."Truth smiled, as he realized what his fellow goddess' powers were doing, without she even realizing it, and waived her away "So be it then. Go and finish your job, little Shadow.""What about the price?" she asked, confused"This is something for me to know and for you to guess at." he retorted with an amused smile "If you do a good job, I'll tell you when you put that crazy plan of yours into effect."She looked at him, puzzled, and was sent back to Central City, never seeing that Truth wasn't alone anymore near the Gate. [Hidden Quest Complete! A fighter's worth...Wrath's soul has been reclaimed from the Red StoneReward:+1000XP, Homunculus Wrath added to Boss List][Level up! You are now level 77!+1SP] [Person of Interest Eliminated(Wrath / Fuhrer King Bradley): +1000WP] Chapter XIV : Promised Day 1915 (end) Reappearing in Central on the spot her fight had just finished, Ari closed her eyes for a moment, pin-pointing Padfoot's position, and Black Flames took her to her partner, who barked an amiable greeting – having just left the newly named Min Feng with his brother. "Well, I've had my fun, time to get to work." she commented to the black dog "Let's take advantage of my Past Life Aura's remaining time and take care of these dolls." Padfoot barked his agreement, and felt Ariana's holy powers link to him – after all being a goddess' familiar meant helping her with her duties too. The next moment, they were rushing through black Flames, appearing in the main courtyard, where she could feel most of the unnatural presences. Green flooded the zone, and the whole Headquarters, seeking out all of the immortal army – and the next moment they fell to the ground, leaving behind countless empty husks under both soldiers and chimera's cheers. The young goddess felt her body tremble, and one of her knees hit the ground – she caught herself by grabbing at Padfoot's fur, the young Grimm a stable presence by her side. "Ariana!" Teacher's voice snapped her out of her daze – just as it did the rest of the people present, and the older alchemist ran to her "What are you thinking, expanding so much power?" the fox-chimera scolded worriedly "Your body isn't made to endure this kind of powers!" The young girl gave her a shaky smile "It's in my job's description." if the people around though she was referring to the silver watch in her pocket, Izumi knew she was rather talking about her links with Death "Beside, I couldn't just stop fighting just because I took care of my own business." "You took care of two homunculus when it took all of our combined efforts to take one down!" Izumi protested "Of course you should take a break, stupid apprentice!" The affirmation stunned even more those that had just witnessed the show of power that had just happened – a display that had seen so astonishing they barely realized that not even Gluttony was left in the courtyard; something that wasn't Ari's, but her Teacher's work. "Ah, but Teacher," the WindBlade alchemist contradicted, already feeling better yet somehow knowing she would pay the price latter "We still have to help my brothers fight the one who created this mess." "True." Izumi sighed, knowing she couldn't stop Ariana – and that she wouldn't, as she had every intention of helping too, she turned toward her husband, the tall man enfolding both girls in a hug before stepping back, knowing he had no place in the fight coming Black Flames flashed, and Ari, Padfoot and Izumi disappeared. [Hidden Quest Complete! Violets are Blue... Defeat Gluttony in the same manner as Lust Reward:+1000XP, Homunculus Gluttony added to Boss List] [Level up! You are now level 78! +1SP] [Person of Interest Eliminated(Gluttony): +1000WP] [Infiltration of Father's Underground Lair Successful (Ariana Elric) : +500WP] [Infiltration of Father's Underground Lair Successful (Izumi Curtis) : +500WP] Roy, Riza and Hawkeye had started advancing far more cautiously once underground, knowing that as soon as he felt safe enough, Pride would strike – and in the dark corridors, the homunculus had the clear advantage. Then, a powerful and oh so familiar wave of power run thought the tunnels, making all the unnatural dolls they had been fighting against drop, now bereft of any simulacrum of life. "This girl," Roy grumbled as he felt Ariana's weariness thanks to the green gem on his finger "What doesn't she understand in the word reasonable?" "That's rich coming from you." Hughes mocked, the exasperated remark making him come out of his daze "Still, she opened the way for us, better not waste the opportunity." Riza and Roy nodded grimly, and they pressed ahead, with still no trace of Pride in sight – and soon arrived to a large room where a few familiar faces were seen, and fight was on-going. "You're late, bastard." Ed greeted "There was a lot of traffic." Roy retorted "So what's up here?" "That crazy looking scientist is looking to do something." the elder Elric answered "We're stopping him. Then Ari showed off, and we're still wondering what the hell she just did." "Oh, you know your sister." Riza commented lightly "She simply decided to help a bit and finished off all of those creepy dolls. In one go." "Of course." Ed rolled his eyes, barely surprised "So, someone wants to bet on how long she's going to spent on bed-rest after that stunt?" An awkward silence was his answer, as well as a familiar killing intent. "She's just behind me, isn't she?" the blond alchemist sighed, resigned to his fate "That I am, brother dear." Ariana answered with a sweet smile "Here we are, Teacher and I, coming out of our goodness of heart, to help you, and this is how we're rewarded?" Ed gulped, while Al laughed. Scar and May shared a glance, definitively convinced that this family had to have some kind of wonky gene – not one of them was normal! Of course, none had stopped fighting while they talked, the well-trained spare Fuhrer falling one by one under the small force's powers. "16, 17, 21, 23, 26, come!" the mad scientist called – the soldiers rushed to him, placing themselves around him in a far too familiar way "It's time!" The circle hastily etched to the ground light up, and power hummed around them in a forbidding way, Ariana realizing first "He's using his men as price! This circle is opening the Gate!" "Good, good." the mad scientist praised "But that's nor all it's doing! Tell me... Do you know how many Alchemy Research Facilities are under the Fuhrer's direct purview in Central City?" The three siblings were the first to realize it, having killed Lust in an empty laboratory what felt like an eternity earlier. "There's a five point transmutation circle running under the city." Ed was the first to vocalize "Precisely!" the man's smile widened, as around him the five soldiers were eaten away by the array The power around them became searching as several gigantic eyes opened, zeroing on the alchemists. The next moment, they were taken away, pets included, under the rest of their allies eyes. ¤.¤.¤ "What did you do!" raged Riza, jumping to attack the alchemist that was on the ground, visibly tired by what he'd just done The cackling scientist didn't pay attention to her "Six! There's even a spare! I guess those guys upstairs weren't as bad as I thought..." a snort "Well, I guess I won't need you after all Pride, why don't you go and join your Father." Said homunculus dropped to the ground – May's eyes widened as she realized that there were so many souls crying out in agony around that she hadn't even realized the last homunculus was so close. This could only mean one thing... "We're nearly at the center," she urgently whispered to Scar "They must be right under our feet!" The Ishvalian warrior nodded, and while the others' around him went back to fight the last soldiers, and a Pride clearly feeling better than earlier, he focused the power granted to him by his brother, and with one powerful strike, made the ground shake, then crumble under their feet – revealing that just as the Xingese princess had just said, there was indeed another large underground room just beneath them. A room important enough that Pride's shadows all rushed toward the hole in the ground to protect it, trying to forbid them access to it, mercilessly assimilating the still cackling scientist on the way, as if by afterthought. "You are not to interfere with Father." the homunculus stated coldly Riza smiled, having received a message from her brother thanks to Chaos' Interface. "We won't need to." she stated confidently "Your Father just did the biggest mistake he could by gathering those six around him voluntarily." her smile grew wilder "And it's just you and us now." "Pitiful." the small homunculus mocked "You really think your friends will be able to stop Father?" he smiled, blood-lust gleaming in his eyes "Or that you will be able to stop me?" Riza's answer was to shot him in both knees, the boy only avoiding one of the two bullets – and even thought the wound was regenerating, she smirked victoriously. After all, at the start of their earlier fight, he wouldn't even have needed to dodge those bullets. The last of the Sins was weakening. ¤.¤.¤ "What the fuck is happening?" Ed loudly questioned as they were unceremoniously dropped in a large underground room "I think this is Father's idea of an invitation." his sister answered while picking herself up, a hand in Padfoot's fur more by habit than real need "Well, well," a voice, both familiar and unknown echoed "Seems like we even have spares." "Homunculus." their father greeted the man in robes looking much like himself "You've changed." a smile "You used to be so full of life and emotions, and yet you look so sad and boring now... You got rid of them didn't you..." he affirmed "Pride, Wrath, Gluttony, Lust, Envy, Greed, Sloth... In excess they aren't good, but you need all of them to be really human..." "I don't want to be human! I want to be a perfect being!" the original homunculus retorted with an unnatural calm, the ground around him launching itself at them without even a move from their assailant The alchemists and their pets all jumped out of the way – all except Ariana, who was laughing helplessly, using Padfoot as a clutch to stay upright and her green aura creating a wall of power around her, protecting her from the attacks. "The perfect being?" she mocked "You are ridiculous!" she didn't move anymore than him as she launched her own attacks at it "True perfection doesn't exist, as it goes against the very concept of evolution!" Von Hohenheim was the first to regain his balance and soon joined his daughter's attacks, soon forcing the immortal being to move from the place he'd been withstanding their assaults from. "You sure have some interesting children, Von Hohenheim." "That I do," easily agreed the philosopher "but you too, have children now. You say you don't want to be human, yet here you are playing house, creating children from your own existence and making them call you Father." The homunculus' eyes narrowed at this affirmation, as if his old acquaintance had struck a nerve. Meanwhile, Ed and Al had joined on their family's assault. Seeing that the situation wasn't all that favorable, Father stepped back, and disappeared into the ground, making all of them look around warily – even for Ariana it was impossible to track Father now that they were at the core of his power-base, the feeling of the tempest of suffering souls all around them making it impossible to guess accurately at the man's position. And he struck – a hand rushing out of the ground and going through Von Hohenheim's chest. "Your Stone is mine!" the homunculus stated – before jumping back, out of the ground and away from the man he stole his face from "What have you done?" "I have done what you never could, my little friend in the flask. By throwing away your emotions, you lost any chance of beating me!" he affirmed, the familiar power of the Red Stone swirling around him (Sargens, a man coming from a long line of carpenters. He did a lot of repairs for the palace.) (Dozul, his son. He respected a lot his father, and wanted to follow in his footsteps.) (Toby, a young boy who wanted to be a scholar.) (Andre, one of my fellow slaves. He never liked how I managed to gain our master's favor.) (Zuul, a terrible criminal, condemned to death. He seemed beyond redemption, yet even him wants to punish you for your crimes...) "These are the souls fighting you right now." Von Hohenheim stated, pointing toward the nearly decaying hand of his counterpart "They are the souls you deprived of a life, body, and even of death when you made us into monsters!" "The souls of your Stone are helping you?" a disbelieving Homunculus repeated "They are a mere mass of energy!" "Oh, sure enough, managing to communicate with each of them individually is a difficult, maddening process, as all of them are suffering as one, deprived from death because of this Stone within both of us... But I had nothing but time, thanks to this immortal body you oh so generously granted me." the next attack was like a drill, striking the Homunculus right between the eyes "And with their help, I'll put you right back where you belong, my little friend in the flask." Under the attack's pressure, the non-human's body seemed to loose it's form – and like a nightmarish butterfly breaking out of it's silky prison, a black mass of shadows, similar in many ways to Pride, climbed out of the discarded body, smiling wildly "Did you really think you were the only one to evolve, Hohenheim?" he taunted, before giving out a sigh of fake sadness "Ah well, I had hoped to have a bit more fun with our reunion, but you are proving far too troublesome, old friend, and the clock is ticking!" ¤.¤.¤ Scar rushed toward Pride, knowing that of the remaining fighters, he was the only one who could take on the homunculus at close range. He noted that Riza had already jumped to a longer range, and was setting up her sniper – while he still had a bit of bitterness leftover from the Ishvalian war, he was glad to have the Hawkeye by his side for this fight. His brother's power hummed – there was no reason to hold back here, and the small homunculus was blocking the way to the center of the array, the very place where he needed to place the last of the circles designed by his brother. His Ishavalian brothers had spent months traveling the country and risking themselves to set up this array – he wouldn't fail them by not putting the last circle in place; he wouldn't let the alchemists fight for their life, and the whole country, while risking to be cut from their most familiar source of power at any moment... The shadows were still quick to attack, and easily tore through his torso – but the moment of immobility it bough paid, and three loud shots echoed through the underground room, as Riza's specially crafted bullets tore once more through the young looking homunculus, who was now struck in place by May's alkahestry circle. The child-like looking body broke down, revealing a small embryo form in its midst. "That's Pride true form." Hughes commented, disbelief clear in his voice "This is the being that decimated Briggs' soldiers and killed countless people..." "He's powerless now." Riza sighed, carefully picking him up "What will you do with him?" May asked, the young girl now feeling a bit queasy at having ruthlessly attempted to kill him "Ari will take care of him." the military woman smiled, before turning toward the hole in the ground "But for now, let's finish this." With a nod, they all jumped down, ready to assist their alchemists friends. [Hidden Quest! And then there was one... You have defeated Pride Goal: Decide of the fate of the last Sin Reward:+1000 XP, Homunculus Pride added to Boss List, Vanquisher of the Seven Sins Perk to be unlocked] [Person of Interest Neutralized (Pride):+1000WP] "The time has come!" Father proclaimed, tentacles reaching out toward them "Time to get to work, my precious sacrifices!" his protruding eyes went from one alchemist to the other "I've even got a spare!" his eyes stopped on Ariana "You, I won't use you. I'll let you annoying little pest witness your family's suffering!" he stated, amused, not realizing that they had all resisted a lot less than they should have Th five alchemists were in place around him, the spare and pet confined by one of his appendages – and the sun was now hidden behind the moon. "Have you ever considered," the nonhuman proclaimed as power started to hum around them "that this whole planet can be seen as a single organism, or rather, a system with knowledge so vast your tiny inconsequential human brain can't even envision it... Do you imagine what kind of power could be obtained by opening the Gate of this system?" Throughout the country, the largest array ever to be carved came to life, illuminating the country hidden in the shadows by the eclipse. "Yes! All this power, all mine! Come to my call, God! I will devour you and make your powers mine!" Ariana felt the precise moment where all of the souls cried out in against all around the country - some of them familiar, others unknown, all of them echoing loudly as if they were right by her side. She pushed the heart-wrenching cries behind barriers, putting all those hours of meditation she'd done since childhood into good use. Because by opening the planet's Gate, the Homunculus had unknowingly given her unrestricted access to her own powers, no longer hampered by the Gate's closed doors. And just as the immortal was calling for, a silhouette appeared from the opened doors, reaching toward the world it hadn't ever touched, looking as little human as the Homunculus now did. Ariana let her powers rush around her, and tore at the appendage keeping her away from the circle, stopping with one hand the descent of their friends that had been caught in the array as they were jumping down, and freeing her friends with the other hand. Around them, the ground shook as the array became unstable – it's purpose unfinished, yet its form lost. "What have you done!" yelled the furious Homunculus, reaching toward the god he wanted to absorb "I'm fulfilling a promise." she stated, just as her father did his part ¤.¤.¤ (It's time.) (The being in the Flask need to be stopped.) (What happened to us cannot be allowed to happen again!) The umbra was cast on Amestris, and Father's rage grew even more, as he didn't know whom to curse more between the father and the daughter – as Von Hohenheim long work, that had separated him from his family for years, finally came to fruition and the souls of the people of Amestris were guided back into their body by the long departed of Xerxes, depriving Father from their power. "How dare you resist me!" the immortal raged, attacking without any thought-out plan his long lost friend "I will always resist you!" Von Hohenheim answered with just as much heat ¤.¤.¤ And while her father's held the Homunculus' attention, Ariana had turned her own attention toward the other true immortal present on the planet's surface. "I can't be allowed to stay too long or my very presence will destroy this world." Truth stated "My powers haven't been tailored to walk the Mortal Realms like yours." "I know," Ariana nodded seriously "but there's still something left to be done before you go back." While Father and Von Hohenheim were affronting each other, May Chang and Teacher soon rushing to aid the last man of Xerxes, Ed had dashed toward an awakening Scar "Come, we've got to get your brother's array to work now! Father could cut us from the earth at any moment!" The Ishvalian put himself together, Ari pointing the center of the array to him – and just as Father screamed "You are of no further use to me!" and cut them from their source of alchemy, the alkahestry array did its job Roy, who was helping Maes and Riza up, felt just as well as the other alchemists the precise moment the array powered up – as the earth, the energy source that had always seemed so muted when they'd worked with it was suddenly present, pulsing just underneath them and answering their every call. He nodded respectfully toward Scar – and the other answered in kind, satisfied to have finally accomplished his brother's wish. Ed and Al had gravitated toward their sister, knowing their role in the part to come. Seeing he was lacking power, the desperate immortal lost any semblance of sanity and rushed toward Truth, hoping against any logic that the unstable circle, depleted from its source of power, would still let him absorb the god. This was of course exactly what the Elric siblings and their father had been aiming at. In the courtyard, people were moving toward the large hole that had been torn into the ground, revealing the fight that was on-going downstairs. "I don't know what's going on, but we have to help them!" managed to stammered a Central soldier, faith in those that had helped them against the monster gaining upon his natural fear "We'll only get in their way." the rough voice of mister Curtis stated The chimera nodded, knowing how much it hurt the loving husband to see his wife fight downstairs as was stuck up there "We did our part in the fight by keeping the monsters within headquarters." one said "Now, we'll have to trust them to win, and get ready to explain to the rest of the country what happened here today." "I'm not even sure I know what happened..." a northern soldier commented (flashback begin) "And you'd rather hear a boring story than gain another power?" a dubious Truth asked Ari's smile was answer enough. Truth finally let go of his hesitation, and stated "I'll do you one better then. I'll show you." ¤.¤.¤ The discussions about the new world of Hagaren had been on-going for quite a while in the Immortal Realms – all worlds were under the care of at least one minor god, and that job wasn't one to be neglectful of, especially for a young world. There were lots of stories, about young world not protected correctly by their designed deity, who were destructed. Sometime, by people gaining too much powers much too early in the world's History, sometime by the deity neglecting to keep his world away from older realities where stronger powers were at work. Hagaren was very young, and fast evolving – already the main spiritual sources of energy had been identified and studied by scientists who were calling them "Alchemy". The one who'd be put in charge would have quite a lot of work to do for a few millenniums. The fast discovery of alchemy put Knowledge's deities at an advantage – the young planet clearly needed someone wise to watch over it. Still, the fact that Truth had been chosen had been a surprise. Why, the young god was barely a few millenniums old himself! Truth had been very honored, and took his duty seriously, creating the Gate that would protect his world from outside influences – a Gate he'd keep watch of, and gradually open, then dismantle as Hagaren grew older. The idea had been rather well received by the elder deities, whom didn't regret their choice. And Truth's siblings jealousy grew. Wisdom, the eldest, kept out of it, knowing it wouldn't end well – he did try to warn his younger brother, but Truth couldn't believe that his siblings would fall so low. Art did too, but was far too shy to try and help. Science, Teaching and Learning plotted together. After all, Truth was barely older than them and they were far more powerful, they should have been the one to be given a world. Being given a world was a great honor, and the god chosen always gained a considerable boost in power, as most of the worshipers prayed to the main deity, and belief was a power in and of itself. Well, they'd show the others that it had been a mistake to chose their sibling. And what easier way to do that, than to have Truth himself destroy the world he was supposed to protect? Science was sent to distract Truth, and Teaching and Learning used this opportunity to open the Gate enough to send a powerful blessing to one man – a man chosen carefully for his thirst for Knowledge and complete lack of morals. With the two gods blessings, the man soon stumbled upon a new branch of study – a way reach for all the knowledge available on his planet, and take it from himself. A way to reach for Truth. Of course, having the knowledge about Truth's existence didn't give that man the power to reach for the god. Fortunately for him, Science was there to weaken Truth. Killing a god, even a minor deity, isn't possible – hurting him and weakening him, on the other hand, is completely possible. With Truth weakened, the man activated his array, and dragged the god to him – or rather, he tried; but the god, even in his weakened state, still managed to resist, knowing that being dragged to Hagaren was a sure way to destroy it. The end result was that a part of the god was torn away from it, leaving him with the constant pain of being incomplete – while the lucky alchemist found himself with part of of the deity, and as such, part of its knowledge, trapped in a jar, but was far too diminished from his attempt to ever be able to redo his exploit. Humans weren't meant for the knowledge he'd glimpse during his encounter, and it had taken its toll on him. Truth's first price of Equivalent Exchange. Truth knew he had to do something – he managed to close the Gate, throwing his siblings out of Hagaren, and hiding himself behind the powerful doors he'd made when he was still complete. The Gate was now his best defense, and his prison – should he open it, he wouldn't be capable of protecting himself against his siblings, as such he couldn't take the risk of opening that door anymore. The higher deities were soon annoyed with the young god's refusal to let them do their work on his planet, but Hagaren was his, and it was his choice. They let him be, not realizing what had happened, as the three culprit had taken care to act when the higher gods attention wasn't on them. As for the part of Truth torn from him, it nearly instantly lost itself, only remembering it's knowledge, and the fact that it had once be free of the jar that was now its prison – that it had once been so different from the humans. So superior. And as madness took the Homunculus, so came the resolve to become a god. (flashback end) ¤.¤.¤ It had been natural for Ariana to want to heal Truth after he shared his story – as she had stated years ago to the god, she may not be Death himself, she still was a goddess directly linked to him. And watching over the souls cycling through death, and their wholeness was one of her natural duty. Because of how attuned her powers were to souls, she despised mortals who tried to tie their soul to the Mortal Plans, like Voldemort had done once upon a time. She felt acutely the pain of people whose soul had been messed with against their will, and as such helped them whenever she was able to, just like she'd done with the Vindice. This was also this gift that made it possible for her to tie pre-existing souls to the homonculi. And now, it would be this Soul Art that let her repair the damages done by one alchemist and three jealous siblings. Ariana and her two brothers were each at one end of the three-point circle that was the result of hours of work. A circle within which Father had finally been dragged with his attempt at absorbing the one he ironically was born from – a circle within which Hohenheim himself, and more importantly, Truth, were standing too. If the nation-wide array activating had been impressing, there were no words for the powers at work there, as Truth stepped toward a terrified Homunculus. "Why are you interfering!" the scared being asked "Who are you?" Truth smile, reaching toward the struggling to flee being "I am the one you called, Homunculus. I am God, I am Truth... I am you, and once upon a time, you were me." ¤.¤.¤ The world became white around them as most of Central City's Headquarters were sent to the Gate – and the first thing those snapping out of their surprise realized was that where before Truth and Homunculus had both looked monstrously inhuman, only one being was standing, far different from before. The complete Truth looked far more human than before, much like most of the gods tended to take on a humanoid form – but even if Truth did look human, he clearly didn't feel human, his powers as the reigning deity finally complete. This Truth looked far less the terrifying despot he had seemed to be in the alchemists previous encounters, and far more what people thought about when they prayed to god. A superior, impartial, but still mostly benevolent entity. "Thank you, little Shadow." the man with white hair and golden eyes bowed toward his fellow goddess "You did something I truly believed impossible." "Well," Ariana smiled "You know how I feel about messing with souls." The word made Riza react first – and probably because she was already used about the idea of deities, she didn't feel any shame at interrupting "Speaking of souls..." in her hands still was the fetus like entity that had once been Pride Ariana understood, feeling her friend's confused emotions toward their former enemy. Pride had been ruthless and cruel – but he had above all been a child who'd never been taught better, and had always craved his father's approval. She could give him a soul – but the body he had lost was beyond her reach. Whatever life he would go on to, it would be a new one. "I'll take care of him." she wasn't all that surprised by Truth's affirmation Now that he was reunited with Homunculus, he had all of Father's memories and actions, and in a way, felt responsible for the seven Sins that had been his children. Saving and healing even one of them was something he felt was his duty to do. This time, Pride would grow up loved, and understanding his place in the universe. ¤.¤.¤ "What will happen to all those taken here?" Roy wondered, looking at the soldiers, chimera and former homunculus that had accidentally followed them to the Gate "It's not as if they voluntarily came, so making them pay would seem..." "Unfair." Truth agreed "And the price has already been paid, when they decided to trust themselves rather than their orders, and fought the abomination that was the immortal army." The alchemists, that were the only one that had really understood the danger everyone was in, were all relieved at the deity's statement. It was then Von Hohenheim who stepped toward Truth "I guess it's my turn now?" Truth smiled "Do you really think your daughter won't save you when she put her life on the line for monsters that didn't even have a soul?" "I have been ready for Death for a long time." "Yet I'm sure you could make him wait a little more." the god contradicted as a Red Stone materialized in his hands "This I'm taking back. But your own life is once more yours, mortality included." The old philosopher couldn't help but smile – he hadn't lied, and would have accepted Death as an old friend. Still, being given the chance to see his children grow up and his mortality back in the same gesture wasn't something he'd refuse. Truth let his eyes meet those of all present, and smiled. From the Gate, they'd all gain knowledge, and understanding about the event that transpired, and hopefully they'd use it to better their country. It was now time for them to go back. One by once they disappeared, each a bit more knowledgeable than before, each a bit more wary about what one man's folly could cause. ¤.¤.¤ Soon, only Truth remained, a now baby-like Pride in his arms, with Ari and Roy facing him, Padfoot negligently lying down at their feet. "It's reassuring to see that all new gods aren't like my siblings." Truth commented "Thanks to you I can now open back the Gate to the other gods, and finally report my siblings' actions to Knowledge." "And they won't like the consequences." Ariana affirmed, amused – Knowledge had seemed far too concerned about Truth's well-being when she didn't know what had happened to let the matter rest once she learned the truth of it "Thank you for proving me wrong about you." the older god reiterated, before turning toward Roy "And take care of your partner, or another god may well snatch her up for himself." "I will." the hit-man confirmed, hardly surprised by the underlying threat "One last thing..." a form materialized beside him "Wrath?" a surprised goddess realized "What..." "Well, I'm honored to tell you that you have gained your first Disciple… ." "What? But how..." "You claimed him as your own when you gave him back his soul," Truth explained "And he voluntarily answered to your call." "I want to see what kind of worlds you can create by your simple presence." the warrior admitted "You were the first to make me wonder about a different vision than mine." Roy laughed "I can't believe it! After making the deadly Vindice into your priests, you just had to take on a feared homunculus as an assistant didn't you?" "I didn't meant to!" "Do you regret it?" the deceased Fuhrer asked "Of course not!" she contradicted "I'm honored that you feel me worthy enough of following!" "Then all is well." the man stated "Don't worry about this for now, we'll each learn about this new partnership as it goes. For now, I believe your family is waiting for you back in Amestris." She smiled, somehow reassured by the man's calm acceptance of the situation, then turned toward Truth. "Well, this is goodbye for now." the god stated "I'll see you both in the Immortal Realms now that I'm not stuck here anymore." With that last affirmation the couple and the dog were sent back to Central City. ¤.¤.¤ "Well, you took your sweet time." Ed commented as dozens of notifications appeared on Chaos' Interface "We even had time to start the parley with the soldiers outside of the wall." a smile "It's going rather well, thanks to Fuery and Havoc's hard work at the radio station among other things... " "We had a last detail to take care of..." she said Just by looking at her self-conscious look and the bastard obvious struggle to remain serious, the elder Elric sibling just knew there was more to it. But now wasn't the time to ask about it, so he simply nodded and they started to help with the cleaning up. [Hidden Quest Complete! The Truth of the Matter! Truth is now whole once more Reward:+500XP , Truth's Gate Perk (Level max updated to 200 for those who have seen the Gate) unlocked] [Hidden Quest Complete! And then there was one... Pride will now have a new life as Truth's Champion Reward:+1000 XP, Homunculus Pride added to Boss List, Vanquisher of the Seven Sins Perk unlocked] [Life Quest Complete! Darkness passing through the world... total WP: 19500 Reward: 5000XP, 1 mutation unlocked, Map System unlocked, 1 S-grade Enhancement Stone to be chosen Bonus Reward: 9000XP, +3 S-grade Enhancement Stone to be chosen, 1 mutation unlocked] [Challenge LV 100 Complete! The Lost Souls Reward: +1000XP, one soul-bound token, one Alternate Life Perk to be chosen] [Hidden Quest Complete! To eternity and Beyond... You have gained your first Holy Disciple Reward: +1000XP, Holy System unlocked] [Level up! You are now level 89! +6 Intelligence, +4 Agility, +2 Luck +12SP, +4CP, +2PP] [Mutations available: - Wolf's Claw: your nails are now dangerously sharp claws - Dog's Nose: your sense of smell cannot be fooled - Snake's Fang: your body produce a potent acidic poison that can be leaked by your canine or nails - Hawk's eye: you can see very far, and pick out movement from the corner of your eyes - Bat's Ear: your audition is so god you could walk with you eyes closed - Cheetah's Paw: you run faster than any human - Snake's Fang: your body produce a potent acidic poison that can be leaked by your canine or nails - 2 available] [Alternate Life Perk available: - Elric Inheritance: Knowledge is your weapon of choice in a fight, but sometimes your fists works just as well +2 Intelligence, +1 Strength at each birthday - Rockbell Inheritance: Learning when to take arms, and when to keep peace is an art +2 Wisdom, +1 Endurance at each birthday - Curtis Inheritance: You grown nimble and cunning as a fox with each passing year +2 Agility, +1 Intelligence at each birthday 1 available] [Perk available: - Smooth Talker: double rate of learning Communication and Awareness Skills - Fighter's Mind: double rate of learning Survival and Ground Skills - Blood Fiend (2/2) : +1SP to Blood Alchemy for each 10SP in your chosen Weapon Skill 2 available] [Grimoire update!  Holy Disciple They are the immortal servants of a deity, helping it to do its job. Unlike Holy Servants, that work in the Mortal Realms, Disciple are considered as minor deity and as such can also work from within the Immortal Realms. It is to be noted that Disciple can only interact with the Mortal Realms as ghosts, or apparition, except if they become World-Bound deities.] [System log: Holy System This permanent feature will let you manage your Holy Network. You can now activate the voice chat with your Disciples and , and the regular written chat with all of your subordinates (Holy Servant included). Your Familiars are still the only one to benefit from a direct and permanent mind link. All powers directly linked to your Godly Nature will now be available from this window (Such as the Hollow Skill and the Abilities it unlocks)] Epilogue There had been less than a hundred people still standing after the unending Promised Day within the Headquarters.And all of them had seen Truth.While it wasn't immediately apparent, all were changed from the encounter. What happened within the walls of Central City's main military bastion was explained away as a coup tentative from the generals of the city. They were the one who killed the Fuhrer, and made despicable human-modifying experiment on good soldiers, and they were the one who attempted to take over the country. The Hundred were hailed as heroes, brave men and women who'd seen through their officers lies and fought for Amestris' safety and liberty.But they knew better.Be it those that had known about Promised Day before it happened, or those who chose a side and took arms of that very day, all had seen the nature of man and monster.One didn't need to be human, to act as a decent being.One didn't need to be a monster, to act like one. In the years that followed, all of the Hundred worked, each in their way, to better the world, and the people around them – sharing in the only way they could the wisdom they gained on that fateful day.Amestris grew into a far different nation, with tolerance growing between its different ethnics, the military working far more with the civilians than above them, alchemy becoming far more democratized – and one of the main motor of advancement in the country, notably thanks to Al's methods of teaching and Ari's discoveries in Blood Alchemy. ¤.¤.¤ Roy Mustang declined the immediate offer that was made of making him the Fuhrer, Grumman taking the post on his demand – the aftermath of Father's plans for the country were still felt throughout the war-torn nation, and right now it wasn't as their supreme leader that he would do the most good, he declared.That speech made his popularity sky-rocket, and there wasn't any doubt in anyone's mind that in a few years, the newly promoted General would become Fuhrer. But for now, he took Fuhrer's Grumman empty post in East City, and started his work by enrolling Scar's help to start and heal Ishval - of course, he was followed by his whole team, the people he had hand-picked years ago now as good as part of his family.Riza stayed by his side even as he became Fuhrer, his sorella becoming the general in charge of Central when he finally took the long awaited position as his own. Fuhrer Grumman was a well-liked man, even if he never reached Mustang's popularity, and he held together the country as their neighbors poked to see if the rebellion had weakened Amestris.Said neighbors soon had their answer – Amestris may have shook on its foundation, the country still stood tall and strong.They were far less belligerent than they had been under Fuhrer Bradley – but that didn't mean they'd roll over for anyone. Within Central City, Fuhrer Grumman was particularly well-like for his immediate offer to newly-widowed Mrs Bradley to stay in the home she'd lived in for years. The old man was himself a widower, and his children grown – he didn't need the large Estate bestowed to the leader of the country for himself.Mrs Bradley and Fuhrer Grumman started to live together, the former first lady starting up the Selim Bradley Foundation for war orphan after a few years. Despite her loud proclamations about wanting to become Fuhrer, General Armstrong was more than happy to get back to the North, and her boys.Central City really was far too soft for the warrior woman – but still, she had gained a tiny bit of respect for that annoying Mustang, and her softy of a brother.And she got along exceptionally well with the female Elric during the aftermath of the battle. Ling went back to Xing with his two bodyguards and the younger princess, their two clan now formally allied.The old Fu retired as soon as he was crowned Emperor thanks to Ariana's array, and instead became the main Diplomat in their relations with Amestris – always meeting with Shan Feng when they happened to be in the same town.And nobody was really surprised when the young emperor that was changing so many things in his country married his remaining bodyguard. Winry had soon made working automail for all the wounded needing it after Promised Day. That act of kindness made her reputation in the capital city, and quite a few of her customers went through the effort of coming to her for maintenance even after she moved back to Rosembool.Among those customers, Shan Feng, the former homunculus' arm lost against Gluttony – and everyone was surprised when after a few years of watching the girl take car of his brother's artificial limb, Min Feng took an interest in automail mechanics, and became Winry's first student. A few weeks after Promised Day, Teacher realized that when she was healed and made into a chimera, Ariana had completely healed her. The alchemist had never expected to be pregnant in her forties, but she had never been as happy as the day she realized she was to be a mother.The Curtis had twins, two black haired terrors born with furry ears and a tail, who called the Elric siblings "uncle" and "aunty" and inherited their talent for alchemy and fighting from their parents. Ariana had of course been chosen as the two's godmother, and each of her brother were godfather to one of them.Padfoot and Tempesta relished in playing with the children who understood them as well as they understood humans – and Paws had been jealous for all of five seconds before falling in love with the kids. Von Hohenheim went back to Rosembool, visiting his wife's grave nearly everyday, telling her about their three chidlren – and the fourth unexpected one.He became the region's alchemist, helping people where he could – and helping them learn how to help themselves when he couldn't.He also was the first to help Amestrian grow past their latent dislike for the Ishvalian, a left-over from the war – the East had been the region to suffer most of because of it after all. ¤.¤.¤ With Promised Day over, the three State Alchemists siblings did wonder about staying in the military.Edward soon expressed his desired to continue what they had been doing for years - travel the country, learning more about alchemy, and helping people. Pointing out to him that he really was the closest to their father's way of life made him throw a temper tantrum – and smile a bit.Still, just like his father, he always came back to Rosembool – not to visit a grave, but a quite lively and sometimes a bit violent blond mechanic, whom he soon wed. As for Alphonse, his true calling, as he had learned with Anastasia, was teaching. With Fuhrer Grumman's reworking of the current State Alchemists into a Civilian and Military branch, he was given the titanic task of creating a comprehensive system of learning for Alchemy to become more accessible to the masses. He thrived under the challenge.It was a few years after, as he led his latest student to an exchange with Xingese alkahestrist that he met May Chang again. They shied away from each other for about three months, before starting going out – and because one didn't simply "go out" with a princess, Al courted the younger girl properly, and by marrying her became the twelfth in line to the Xingese throne, behind several of Ling's kids and siblings. And of course, Ariana was staying in the military – leaving Roy alone would leave the man free of doing everything he wanted. Like drafting a law compelling every female officer to wear a mini-skirt...As expected, she spent several months recuperating from the massive usage of her Past Life Aura and Holy Powers, taking advantage of her bed rest to learn more about her newly gained Holy System. She was often visited by the ghostly form of King Bradley, her first Disciple learning more about the Immortal Realms and her previous life in the same time - and it had been quite fun to watch Ed's reaction to the former Fuhrer the first time he met the ghost.During this forced bed-rest, she also realized what the price of saving Wrath had been - as her Past Life Aura had been depleted, not to be usable until her next life. She didn't regret the loss at all, having used said powers only twice in her life as Ariana Elric, and considering it more than a fair price for the man's soul. To no-one's surprise, Roy made their relationship official on her fifteen birthday by kissing her in the middle of East City Head-quarter's courtyard.They were officially wedded for the second time two years later – and Ariana was nineteen when Roy was made Fuhrer, and herself General of the Military branch of the new State Alchemists, soon gaining the title of Scarlet Philosopher thanks to her work with Blood Alchemy. Roy and Ari only had one child, a dark haired, golden eyed boy who was born like his siblings in the two's former life with a simplified version of Chaos' Game. Anastasia took the Military State Alchemist Exam at fifteen, the youngest age authorized under the new regulations.The youngest Elric soon walked the steps of her eldest brother, traveling the country and helping people.She also became friend, then more, with a Civilian State Alchemist a few years older than her that specialized in Flora Alchemy. Fletcher Tringham was nearly frightened to death by Ed and Al's menace when he asked for permission to marry their youngest sister, but he did become part of the family. Von Hohenheim lived several decades, old enough to meet all of his grand-children – and just as he'd said, he met Death with a smile when his time came, and was buried near the wife he'd never stopped loving. Ariana and Roy followed a few years later.While sixty-two wasn't all that old, it was still a fair deal older than what she had expected to live when younger, and she had far less regrets dying than she had as Sawada Kazami – her only son was grown up, her siblings all happily wedded and with children and grand-children of their own; Amestris a changed country with a future far brighter than it had when she was born. In the Immortal Realms, the higher gods were waiting – and this time, it wasn't her brother Death that greeted them first, but a smiling Truth.

Jody’s the one to find him, driving up in her truck, the Sheriff text glinting in the moonlight when she turns off her headlights. Sam doesn’t move, really, just glances over and registers that it’s Jody and lifts the can to his lips for a swig. This spot was his whenever Dad would drop them off at Bobby's. The edge of the scrapyard, now just a pile of rusting metal, used to be safe. He's not so sure anywhere is ever actually safe. A blanket—a quilt, really, once he gets a good look at it—is tucked around his shoulders and the can disappears from his hand. “When I said you boys were always welcome here, I meant at my house, not freezing in the general vicinity,” Jody says, sitting next to him, shivering. Sam doesn’t really know how to respond, so he reaches for a different can. “Oh no you don’t, mister,” Jody says, slapping his hand away, and he’s reminded of Chronos, the falling-apart house and his falling-apart brain, and he needs to make an effort, because it’s Jody, and that’s what she’s always done for him, even though he’s never deserved it, even though it was him who made her leave while he shot— “Sorry,” he mumbles, quietly, tucking his hand closer to his body again. He’s got no delusions as to why she’s here, and for a second he imagines Dean, tripping over his own leg trying to get up the stairs, and he really hopes Dean’s not en route. “If that’s a sorry for making me listen to your brother nearly kill himself trying to get up stairs while he was on the phone with me, apology accepted,” Jody says, patting his knee and then squeezing it. The guilt piles up in his throat again, and his eyes water, and he thinks he should be cold. It’s hard to tell anymore. Before he can ask, Jody says, “I sent someone I know to go make sure he wasn’t trying to drive anywhere like an idiot. He’s in the area. Good guy. He’ll take care of your brother, drive him up here later. Or not. We’ll see what happens.” Sam nods, thinks that maybe he should feel better for it. Jody squeezes his leg again, says, “How ‘bout we get outta this cold?” And he hadn’t really noticed the cold, it’s been freezing for weeks, he’s wandered the bunker in layers while Dean— “Okay,” He says, and stands up.   Jody tells him about work on the way, talking about training a new deputy and sharing little stories about the office. Sam tries to smile at the right parts, but he’s busy thawing; he keeps shaking. Maybe he was cold after all. The thing about it was that after years of being burned alive by hellfire, a cold touch was welcome and— Sam fumbles the door handle, not used to it being so high up. In the Impala, he could open the door blindfolded in a snowstorm with his left elbow. Dean doesn’t know that sometimes, when he’s supposed to be out running, or in his room, he’ll sneak down to the garage and just lean up against the car. He’s lost most everything else, so when he needs to remember, it—she, Dean would correct—is his scrapbook, a yearbook of stories and blood and Dean. When a blue blaze of light had finally left him, when he and Dean had duked it out and Sam had to scrub himself in the shower until his skin was red from the scratching, and his nails were down to the quick, he’d shakily wandered, barefoot and wrapped in the only hoodie he didn’t remember wearing in the past months, down to the garage and tucked himself in the backseat, face pressed against the seat-back. Dean had found him there, hours later, when he’d tried to fling a duffle in the back because he thought Sam had left the bunker. Sam nearly cut Dean’s finger off when he slammed the door shut. Jody leads him inside, talking about how she’s sorry about the mess, and Sam can’t even bring himself to say ‘it’s okay,’ so he just shakes his head and tries to smile. He loses track of himself for a second, and when he comes back, sitting on the couch, he panics, because he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t remember, but that bastard angel is gone, he’s gone, there’s nothing else inside Sam except himself— “Hey Sam,” says Alex, wandering in with pajama bottoms on and her hair up. She’s looking better—well, as good as one can be after, well, everything. He works at the lump in his throat until he can mutter a quiet, “Hey—uh—hey.” His teeth are chattering, he notices. Alex sits in front of him, on the coffee table, and picks up his wrist, pressing her fingers to his pulse point. “I’m going to check your vitals,” she declares, reaching for the quilt that’s still around his shoulders. He lets her pull it off and help him out of his overcoat and his flannel. He stares at the scars that have started to accumulate now that they don’t have an angel on-call to heal them up. It’s a good thing Alex won’t need his t-shirt off. Alex sticks a thermometer in Sam’s mouth, and he vaguely wonders where Jody went. There’s noise in the kitchen he thinks might be her. Sam watches the second hand on the clock tick past the eight again. The thermometer beeps, and Alex pulls it to look at the flashing numbers. “Ninety-five-point-four,” she says quietly, “Sam, you’re hypothermic.” Jody looks on from the doorway, her sigh at the news drawing Sam’s attention. Sam shakes his head and shivers again, “Low ninety-seven’s my normal.” He thinks it is, at least. That’s where he hovered when he was in the hospital where—before—when he— “Still a big difference, and still hypothermic,” Alex says, turning to Jody, “You got the towels and hot chocolate?” Jody nods and heads back to the kitchen as Sam protests. “B-below ninety-five’s hypothermic. I’m shivering. Not hypothermic.” “Okay,” Alex says easily, and Sam wonders at how life’s changed for her, just from when he last saw her, “Were hypothermic then. Alcohol plus no coat plus cold equals hypothermic.” Sam shivers violently, and allows Alex to tuck the blanket back around him, “That’s n-not how it works.” “It is now,” Alex says, and he can’t tell any longer if she’s being sarcastic or not, so he shuts his mouth and lets Alex take his pulse again. “Your heart always that slow?” She asks after looking up from her watch, almost absentmindedly. “What is it?” He asks, staring at the pattern on Jody’s rug, and listening for Jody’s movements after the microwave dings. “Fifty-five,” Alex says, and then, turning to Jody, “Thanks.” That doesn't sound right, but he's not sure about much anymore. She takes the offered mug and turns back to Sam, “Drink this, slowly.” He takes the mug from her and nearly drops it because it’s so warm against his hands. He’s starting to think Alex has a point about being hypothermic. Confusion is a symptom, he thinks. Or just a part of life. His life, anyway. Jody comes back. He hadn’t noticed that she’d left. He sips at the hot cocoa and shivers violently enough that he worries about spilling. Alex takes the towels Jody offers and starts to put one around Sam’s neck. Something gets crossed in his brain, and all he can think about is the—is with—Lucifer had—Dean—with the— He flinches violently away, and his drink sloshes over the edge of the mug. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he says, trying to grab at one of the towels to dab at the spots he’d gotten on Jody’s carpet—Jody who’d taken them in, who they didn’t—who Sam didn’t deserve, after everything— “Sam,” Jody says, easily, “breathe. It’s okay,” He catches air in his throat and swallows. Alex takes the mug from him, gently patting his fingers away from the towels. Everything’s wrong, and nothing makes sense except for that memory he has of dad, clean-shaven for once, plucking Sam up from where he’d fallen and skinned his knees when they were training and saying, with all the air of imparting an ancient proverb, “Crying’s for girls Sammy, chin up.” The trials made him think about dad a lot. He remembers things that’d been lost in the years. Like how his dad’s breath had always smelled like coffee in the mornings, when Sam’d been small enough to be carried out to the car when they left another town behind, or how he’d always have a grimacing smile for his son when Sam would leap on him after a hunt, when he was young enough that it was okay for him to miss his dad when he was gone. He remembers other things too, but it’s all too easy to get those caught up in other things—things from—things when—when Lucifer— He shudders out another breath, and blinks away the tears that try to form. “Hey Sam, think you can lay down?” Alex asks, still sitting on the coffee table, one hand on his knee. “I’m fine,” Sam says, as she pushes him down, one of the pillows he thinks is just supposed to be for decoration behind his head. Jody wiggles his boots, and he hears them drop, one at a time to the floor. He curls his legs in, wonders if there’s a couch out there he could stretch out on that doesn’t cost enough to make his eyes bulge out. “Sorry,” he manages to mumble again. It’s like his words don’t make sense in his head anymore. “Relax Sam,” Jody says as Alex tucks a warm towel under his head, leaves one on his chest, his groin. A blanket covers him. The same quilt from before, patterned red and black checkered pieces. He thinks maybe someone puts another one on top of that, but his eyes close. A shudder runs through him. Jody sighs, says something he doesn’t catch. Alex replies. His head hurts, he realizes. It’s pounding. White. When things fade out, he’s not sure if it’s because he’s passing out or not.   He’s wandering heaven in his dream. He’s not sure why. He’s not dead, he thinks. Probably. He’s pretty sure Dean’s supposed to be here. It feels like a dream. Heaven, that time, had felt real, not like this, pulling apart at the seams. “Dean?” he calls. Dean would be at the Roadhouse, he decides, if he were here in heaven. So he wanders until he remembers he’s dreaming and decides he’d rather be where Dean is at. Ash spits his beer when he walks in. Bobby, who’s there too—because this is one of Sam’s bizarre dreams, not one that ends up in the Cage, he hopes— stands up real fast. “Have you seen Dean?” He asks them. No harm in asking, unless one of them is really Lucifer pretending to be someone else. “Sam?” His dad says. He’s asked Bobby and Ash, maybe Dad’ll know, Dad knows lots of things “Have you seen Dean?” There’s a lot of people there, for no reason. He asks them all, haltingly, “Has anyone seen Dean?” “He dead?” he hears Bobby ask Ash when all those people start talking. He hopes not. If Dean’s dead, he’ll have to do something drastic to get him back, because they left on the worst terms, and he can’t handle going through that again, and Jody’ll get sick of him soon, he can’t go back to an empty bunker. “No,” Ash says, and Sam feels like he should smile at that. He’s not sure if he does, in this dream. There’s a hand on his arm, he looks at it, frowns. Follows it up to a face. “Why am I dreaming about you again?” Sam asks his dad, “It’s been you again and again. Have you seen Dean?” His thoughts spin fast, like that cotton candy machine at that carnival from when he was seven and Dad was back from a successful hunt. “Sam,” his dad says, and he flickers, Sam turns over on the couch, sinking in.   He squints his eyes open, watches dust float around in a sunbeam and waits for his brain to come back online. “Hey, sleepyhead,” Jody says at some point, jolting him out of his blank staring. She’s in snowman pajama pants and a t-shirt, leaning casually against the doorway with a mug in hand. “Hey,” he answers back, carefully monotone. He sits up and feels the knots in his back and neck and tries to stretch them out. “How’re you feeling?” Jody asks, sipping her drink. Sam blinks, “Much better. Thank you. For—” he tosses a hand up uselessly in the air, “Everything.” Jody snorts into her mug, “You’re welcome. Breakfast?” It doesn’t sound great, but it’s Jody. “Sure,” he says, finally standing up. Everything is aching and sore and his feet are freezing. Jody points a finger in his direction and spins it, “Why don’t you get changed into something more comfortable and I’ll go get stuff ready.” Sam nods—a quick up-down—and goes to grab his duffle that’s lying innocently on the armchair. He takes a look outside and spots his bike sitting in the driveway. “Hey Jody,” he calls, “thanks for grabbing my bike.” Must have had Alex help. She calls back a, “No problem,” and Sam puts it on the list of things he owes Jody for. “I wasn’t sure if it was stolen or not, so I figured picking it up would be better than leaving it,” Jody elaborates. Sam pulls out the first t-shirt and flannel he touches, snatches a pair of boxers and then debates over the sweatpants underneath until he finally just cements his jaw in place and grabs them. He walks to the bathroom and shrugs off his clothes. For a moment, his eyes land in the mirror and he cringes. He’s lost weight and muscle mass. Scars have started to accumulate again. When he was a kid, Dean made every scar between them seem cool, no matter how dumb the thing that tagged them was. Now, it’s just a reminder that— Dean. He needs to— He tugs the sweatpants over his legs, and then puts on the shirts, covering most of them up. Looking back in the mirror, he can see how much like beaten crap he looks. His face is thin and pale, he’s got three-day-old scruff that just looks like a patchy mess, and underneath one of his baggy eyes, he’s got a bruise settling on purple. Dean was right, he is turning into his dad. He washes up and runs hands through his greasy hair then leaves it for later. Jody’s already seen him in various stages of mess, there’s no need for presentation. He leaves his socks on, some irrational fear of freezing them off still lingering. In the kitchen, Jody’s cutting a roll of dough with dental floss. “There you are,” she says, “Mind finishing these up?” “Uh, sure,” Sam says, hesitantly taking the floss from her and trying to mimic the smooth cross-and-cut she’d been doing. “So, the bike, stolen?” Jody asks. “Uh, no,” Sam says, cringing as his next cut turns out a roll even he with his limited baking knowledge knows is too big. Jody smiles, and he sees it out of the corner of his eye, “Good. Wouldn’t want to have to arrest you or anything.” Sam gives a weak laugh at that, trying to smile back. “Do you want some?” Jody asks, holding up the coffee pot. “No thanks,” he says, pulling the next roll out of the way, “I, uh, I’m cutting caffeine.” “Good for you,” Jody says, an impressed look on her face, “I don’t think I’d ever be able to do that.” Sam huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I’m not exactly happy with it.” Jody laughs too, and then reaches around him to start placing the rolls on a cookie sheet. “Thanks,” she says. “Uh-huh,” he replies, finishing the last cut and backing away. Jody gestures toward the table and he takes it as his cue to take a seat. His legs twitch with the desire to just leave, but he’s resigned to his fate. For whatever reason, Jody cares. And caring people make you do things you don’t like in the name of good or understanding or pure stubbornness. “No work today?” he asks, fidgeting. “Nope,” Jody says, “It’s Tuesday—I get today off, most the time.” Sam nods and brings a hand to his mouth so he can bite at his nail. Jody puts the sheet of cinnamon rolls in the oven and shuts the door, clicking the timer until she’s happy with it. She turns around and sits on the other edge of the table, close enough that they could probably knock knees. “So,” she says, serious, “I’m thinking we should talk.” Sam exhales and smiles with half of his mouth, “We could always skip it.” “Sam,” Jody says, and he drops the sad excuse for a smile, “yesterday was terrifying.” “Yeah,” Sam says, wishing he had a cup of coffee just to have something to hold, “yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” “Not looking for an apology,” Jody says, shaking her head gently, “I’m just looking to figure out why it happened.” Sam shrugs, feeling helpless. There’s a million reasons why yesterday happened—number one on the list is his own idiocy. “Okay,” Jody says, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, “I don’t know much of the story, all I know is that you and Dean had a fight of some kind, you left, and you ended up here, drinking yourself to death, and Dean knew that’s exactly where you would be. Do I have any hope that you were coming here?” A bucket can only get so full. Sam decides his guilt is going in the bucket. It’ll overflow, but it’ll stay the same. He shakes his head, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes without tucking it back. The truth, even though it would be so easy to lie. Everything is wrong in the world. He just wants something to be right. Jody sighs, not surprised by any means, “I figured. You do know you’d be welcome here, right? That you are?” For some reason, it’s that phrasing that nearly breaks the dam, and he stops the tears by sheer force of will. His voice comes out cracking, “Yeah—yeah. I—thanks.” Jody nods, “Alright then. Why don’t you tell me the story?” Sam huffs out something that tries to be a laugh but sounds a little bit too close to a sob than is comfortable for him, “I don’t know where to start.” “How about with this?” Jody says, pointing to her face, mirroring the shape of Sam’s bruise. His jaw wobbles a bit. He shrugs, “Me and Dean got in a fight. We—they tend to get violent sometimes. It’s how we—it’s been that way for a long time.” Jody frowns, but once again lacks surprise, “Sam, I care about the both of you, but if Dean—” “Jody,” Sam interrupts, “Dean’s not—this isn’t a,” he pauses, tries to screw his head on straight again, “We’re brothers. We fight like ‘em. Sometimes—sometimes we hurt each other. I just needed,” he comes to a full stop. Blinks. “I’ve always been the runner, you know?” Jody doesn’t reply, but nods, processing. “And I,” he continues, “We both said things we shouldn’t have. And—” he fumbles for his words. “And you ran,” Jody says. “And I ran,” he agrees, running fingers over the scar on his left hand that didn’t ever heal right, even after Cas—even when— “And you ran to . . . drink yourself into hypothermia?” Jody questions, carefully. Sam closes his eyes. This isn’t a conversation he wants to get into. “It’s not—I’m.” Jody reaches out a hand to stop his fidgeting fingers and clasps his hand tight, “Sam, look. I’ve been a sheriff for a while now. You wouldn’t believe the trainings we have to go through,” She laughs, sadly. And then she says exactly what they’ve both been thinking, the question Sam knows Jody’s probably heard over and over again in every training, “Are you suicidal Sam?” Sam slumps back in his seat, huffs out a breath, “Loaded question.” Deflection’s easy. He and Dean have been doing it their whole lives. Deflection, compartmentalization, ignoring—it’s the Winchester coping mechanism. Jody doesn’t play though, just tightens her grip on his hand, “Sam…” “I’m not—” Sam starts, corrects, admits, “I don’t know.” He watches Jody’s brows furrow slightly, then relax. She doesn’t say anything, but waits expectantly. And it really is a loaded question, ready to aim and fire. There’s too much to consider, too much to question, a lot of history. For some reason, he thinks about Ash, that time in heaven. You boys die more than anyone I have ever met. He does know an answer though, not one he likes. Not one Jody will be comfortable with. But it’s the one he owes to himself. Ducking his head, he sighs, “Look, it’s—I’ve—I’ve been on-again off-again suicidal since I was fourteen,” Jody’s hand tightens, almost painful, “And—and it’s okay, I know how to deal with it. It kinda . . . comes with the territory. Dean—” he feels his throat close up, “I don’t know when it started for him, but he’s—it’s—he’s been there too. Both have. We usually... We’re there for each other.” “Fourteen?” Jody says softly, and when Sam peeks up through his hair, he thinks maybe she might cry. “Me and Dean, we’ve been fighting this fight a long time. Lots of people have it worse anyway. And it’s just… You kind of...Stop noticing when you want to die when—when your head’s always already on the chopping block,” Sam says, with a shrug, and a bit of a snort. He meets Jody’s eyes, and there’s too much there, so he glances away. They both take a second to collect themselves, and Sam is selfishly glad he’s not the only one who’s feeling the pressure of this conversation. “This fight,” Jody says, “between you and Dean. It wasn’t just an issue of someone not washing the dishes, huh?” Sam smiles and shakes his head, “Not exactly.” Jody lets the silence draw out, and he really wants to poke at the scar, but he also doesn’t mind the way Jody’s touching him. It’s keeping him centered, in the moment, here in Jody’s kitchen with the smell of cinnamon in the air. But the absence of questions plucks at something, and Sam continues, “Dean… He’s not good with… Being down for the count, y’know? He needs something to keep him busy,” they both do, really, “and so not being able to hunt has been rough. He—he locks himself down. He’s been—” he shouldn’t share, not really, it’s Dean’s life, but, it’s been Sam’s too, “drinking. A lot. And I—I didn’t—I couldn’t help him. I tried, but…” “But Dean’s his own person and you’ve got things to struggle with too,” Jody says, hitting it a little too hard on the nose. Sam shrugs, “Yeah. And, it’s just been hard. So we both had a bad day, we both said some bad things, and I ran.” Jody’s thumb absentmindedly rubs circles on the back of one of his hands, and he stares down at the table. Shame is an easy emotion for him. There’s an awfully packed silence for long stretch where Jody appears to be deep in thought and Sam struggles with feeling awkward, and then the oven timer goes off. Jody startles, and Sam does too. Jody squeezes his hand one last time and stands up. She pulls out the cinnamon rolls and leans against the counter. “Bobby—“ Jody’s voice catches, then she swallows and it comes back strong, “Sam, I don’t really know all that much about you and Dean beyond what . . .” “What we’ve told you. Showed you,” Sam says, hands twitching. Jody nods, and he answers the question he doesn’t think she’ll ask, “We’re—we’re pretty good at that. Letting people see what we want.” “Yeah,” she says, understanding washing over her face. Sam, facing her unconscious accusation shrinks in on himself a bit and admits, “Sometimes we don’t even realize we’re doing it.” Jody picks up her mug from earlier and pours more coffee in, then turns back to Sam. “Do you want some hot chocolate?” The change of subject throws him off for a second, and he can’t process the question. “I—uh—wha... Sure,” he stutters out. His feet are still freezing. Jody starts moving around the kitchen again, pulling out a can of hot cocoa powder and pulling the milk out of the fridge. She puts a mug-full of milk in the microwave and starts it. She moves to reclaim her seat at the table. “Well then,” she says, sounding a little more chipper, “Man of mystery, tell me something about you.” Sam freezes up, his hand halfway up to his mouth, “Uh, what, um?” “I want to know something you wouldn’t tell me otherwise. Those things you don’t show people.” Sam swallows heavily and listens to the sound of the microwave. It beeps, and Jody gets up to retrieve it. In the absence of her expectant look, a strange wave of emotion overtakes him. It’s—he shouldn’t—but he wants to try out the words. And Jody’s proven herself again and again and she hasn’t been a hunter for all that long and maybe she— “I’m a little psychic,” he admits out loud, staring down at the table and scratching his neck. Jody starts to stir in the hot chocolate powder, and looks at him. He doesn’t look back. “Psychic?” She questions, moving back to the table and placing the steaming mug in front of him. The shrug that follows the question is a heavy one. “Yeah. Little bit. I—um, yeah.” “Heard a little bit about psychics from all those hunters who keep wandering into town. Pretty general term, right?” “Yeah, yeah.” “So, what’s being psychic look like for you?” Sam lifts the mug to his lips and sips at it. It burns his tongue, so he sets it back down. “Visions, mostly. Telekinesis sometimes.” Jody’s eyebrows shoot up, “No kidding?” Sam shakes his head, “And… I’m not sure, but sometimes I can sense other things. Ley lines and the sort. They kind of… I get a lot of headaches.” Jody hums, taking a sip of her coffee, and then setting it down, “And Dean knows all of this?” Sam’s heart drops at the reminder of Dean, and he shrugs again, “Mostly. He doesn’t… Hunters and psychics don’t usually…” he gestures vaguely, trying to find the word, “vibe.” Jody stands up again and grabs a bowl that’s been sitting on the counter. She starts spooning glaze onto the cinnamon rolls. Then she sets the bowl aside and tugs two paper towels off the roll and sets a cinnamon roll on each. She carries them over and sets one in front of Sam. “Well then, mister psychic, what else should I know about you?”   They talk for a while, long after the second cinnamon rolls have disappeared from in front of them. Jody drags out some things Sam hasn’t thought about in years. His favorite childhood song, the best place he’s ever lived, the fact that he had an imaginary friend for years. She shares things too, balancing it. It’s nice. It’s more than nice. Eventually, they clean up the kitchen, and she points Sam in the direction of the tv, so he settles down on the couch. Alex comes home from school and Sam, for some bizarre reason, ends up helping her with geography homework that Jody declares has to be done or else. He falls asleep sometime after that, and wakes up in time for dinner. Jody and Alex lead the brunt of the conversation, and then Jody drags him into watching the Princess Diaries with them. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them he’s seen it dozens of times when Jess—Jess had—he just pretends it’s a new watch for him. That night, lying on the couch, he stares at the darkness for a long time and wishes for a lot of things. He thinks of his phone, the screen that remained free of anything marked Dean. He wishes he were strong enough to be the first one to reach out.   Jody’s house is quiet without anyone else around. He pulls on his jacket, turns down the heat. No reason to have it up when he’s got a perfectly good coat hanging around. He messes around on his computer a bit, indexes a few pages he’d scanned and never got to. Finds himself twenty clicks deep on Wikipedia and cuts himself off. He feels angry. He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t. He is. There’s dishes in the sink from breakfast, and a few dirty pans on the stove so Sam washes them, ignoring the dishwasher in favor of having something to do with his hands. It’s too quiet. There’s no distant sound of rock music, no record player playing music older than the Impala. No Dean, interrupting him. He puts away the last dish and makes himself eat the sandwich Jody’d left for him in the fridge. It doesn’t taste like much, turkey meat, cheese, mayo. Dean would’ve added mustard for him, even though Sam doesn’t go out of the way to do it for himself. For a minute, he stands in the kitchen, doing absolutely nothing. He hates this. He hates not knowing what to do without Dean around, hates it with a burning passion. It’s against everything he used to stand for, all the times he bitched and fought to be himself, his own person. All those times he did things just to separate himself from his family, just to be someone else. He sucks in a breath and decides he should do his laundry. The duffle bag seems to weigh more than it should when he shoulders it and gathers up his pile of dirty clothes. It drags him down. All he wants to do is sit and rot— The washer lid clunks when he lifts it up, hinges letting it lean a little too far back and hit the knobs. He double-checks every pocket, a long-term habit that Dean had drilled into him during all those hours spent at the laundromat, staring openly at the crackheads who wandered in, spending time calling each other trailer-trash so that when the people at school started to make fun of their flood-jeans it didn’t hurt so bad. Once all pockets are certifiably empty, he opens his duffle. There’s dirty socks in there he hasn’t washed since the last time he packed. He reaches in and digs around. Then, his fingers brush against something. He pulls out the small triceratops toy, somewhat squashed from being stored underneath everything. Sam closes his hand around it, squeezing it. His other hand he puts on the edge of the washing machine to support himself. Somehow, he’d forgotten. Just a couple of months ago, they were fine. He’d found it in his duffle that time too, they’d tossed it back and forth over an imaginary line dividing a motel room and when they’d gotten back to the Bunker he’d tucked it in Dean’s pillowcase while he was in the shower. It’d slipped his mind after that, an unimportant bright spot that he should have paid more attention to. A moment when he thought he could forgive Dean, where he thought maybe they’d make it through losing Cas and everything that came after. He shudders and rummages around until he finds the dirty socks and tosses them in, adding in the detergent and putting down the lid. He presses the start button and sinks to the floor, pressing his back to the washing machine so that when it turns on, he can feel it rattle his skull. The triceratops is useless. He never would’ve picked it out himself, he’d meant for Dean to take his tickets, that day at the bowling alley when he tried to speak Dean’s language, tried to say ‘I’m trying to forgive you,’ tried to start making up for everything Dean had given up for him. He presses the triceratops close to his chest and draws up his knees, wincing at the ache in his legs. It doesn’t matter. He’ll hang out here until Jody gets tired of him and go begging back to Dean, suffer through endless guilt trips and late nights and unspoken anger until they get back to working together. He’ll choke down his memories again, he’ll find them hunts to numb everything, to give him a goal, a purpose. He’ll add more warding to the bunker, just in case. And that’ll be it. The world might try to implode again, and they’ll try to stop it. Maybe sometime, one of them will die, and the other won’t bother to hurt because it’s just the same thing, again and again. He needs to get stuff done. Maybe he’ll leave before Jody tells him to, drown himself in memories of how bad it could be and force himself to go back so he can find answers for everyone dealing with the swarms of monsters that are his fault. He never did figure out what happened to the Novak family, he owes them, he owes so many people. He should—he should—there’s so much— He can’t move, except to shake along with the movement of the washing machine. The triceratops might rip from the pressure he’s putting on it if he keeps it up. Back in the day, he’d never have thought, even for the briefest second, that he’d miss those days after leaving Stanford. At the time, they’d been some of the most painful days of his life. Now, though, he misses them. Not because they didn’t hurt (they still hurt), but because he and Dean had each other’s backs. No angels, some demons, just themselves and a missing dad and the Impala and the open road. He can’t remember the last time there wasn’t anything hovering over either of them (or both of them). They keep having to push each other up, but they only serve to pull each other down. Or at least, Sam does. Dean’s always been the one pulling up, dragging him onward. When he loses Dean, he makes bad choices. When he loses Dean, he can’t think correctly. The triceratops has dumb, blank, black eyes. He hates it. His breathing is too fast, his heart rate too high, he’s shaking. He hears Alex walk through the front door and manages to finally get to his feet and change the load of laundry to the dryer.   Jody keeps asking him if the end of the week is a good goal for when Dean can come up here, and he never knows what to say to it except, “That’s fine.” And it is fine. He cleans around the house and finds hunts and sends them out into the vastness of the hunter group chat so that Dean can see he’s still alive without having to directly text them. He has a vision one night, and jolts awake screaming. Jody and Alex wind up in the living room with a shotgun and knife respectively, and he shakes until he can jot down the information from it and have Jody call up a hunter to take care of it. That’s Alex’s introduction to his psychic-ness, and she apparently takes it just fine, because the moment Sam starts insisting that everything will be fine once they get a hunter on it, she turns around and goes back to bed. The next morning, Sam apologizes at breakfast while they’re gathered around cereal bowls. Alex rolls her eyes, dumps her bowl in the sink, and says she’s leaving for school. Jody tells him he doesn’t need to apologize. He’s pretty sure he does. That night, Jody recruits them for help with dinner, and she sings along with rock songs that pop up on her Pandora station while they roll burritos. It all goes well until Sam’s zoned-out brain misses the fact that the station’s turned to Heat of the Moment, and the second it goes into the chorus he stops breathing and has to catch himself on the counter. “Sam?” Alex asks, and he tries to draw in a breath to respond and can’t. His chest heaves, but no air goes in. “Sam, you okay?” Jody asks. He can’t—he has to find Dean—he has to. He manages to move himself and slams a finger down on Jody’s phone screen. For a long second after the music turns off, he just shudders. “Sam?” Jody asks, one arm reaching out to steady him. “Sorry—sorry—I’m sorry,” he stutters out, “It’s—that’s not a great song for me.” “Okay,” Jody says easily, leading him to a chair at the table, “okay.” Dinner is accompanied by stilted conversation from Jody and Alex, and Sam doesn’t even register the food he’s eating. Jody stops him from helping with the dishes, so he goes back out to the couch and pulls out his phone. He’s been keeping it on his person every waking minute (and some sleeping ones too). His fingers shake, and he presses a number and then the call button. Dean picks up after one ring. “Hey Sam.” Sam’s heard the words of God and seen the vastness of the universe, and still he thinks that this is the most beautiful thing in existence. “Hey Dean,” he chokes out.   They don’t talk about anything much. Definitely not anything important. At one point, Sam finds himself relating the plot to Princess Diaries 2 to a strangely curious Dean. Jody walks by and gives him a thumbs up when Dean’s voice comes on over speaker. That night, one tiny knot in the mess of tangled yarn that is his heart is undone. He sleeps a bit easier.   Sam walks out to the Impala with the march of the dead man. Or, he thinks hysterically, the born-again man. A hunter Sam thinks he’s seen before but doesn’t remember the name of,\ hops out of the car, and for a second, every molecule in his body screams about how wrong it is that someone else drove the car. He calms himself down, because he isn’t Dean. He isn’t. It’s a car. Just a car. Just the car that means everything. “Man,” the guy says, walking up to Sam and blocking his view of Dean, “I don’t know what gave you the patience to deal with his backseat driving, but I’d rather not know.” Sam grimaces a smile and gives the guy a nod that he hopes is interpreted as a thanks, because he’s not sure if his throat is up to the challenge. Dean is leveraging himself out of the car, working around his leg as best he can. Their eyes meet, and Sam is suddenly reminded of the time Dean came back from hell. The first time. High on demon blood, unsure of everything in the world except for revenge and power, he’d been confused. Hurt. His entire being had called him toward Dean. He’d wanted to hold on until the world crumbled around them. He’d wanted to break away so he didn’t contaminate Dean too. His head spins, and he just watches from the porch as Dean maneuvers to grab something out of the car before slamming the door shut. His limping motion manages to propel him all the way over to Sam, and for a second, they stand there and stare at each other. Sam can’t stand it for another moment and kind of lunges at Dean, who rears back like he’s expecting to get hit. Sam hugs with every iota of strength he’d gained back these past couple days. Dean nearly loses his balance, and has to shuffle a bit to get it back, wrapping one arm around Sam, hand gently pressing Sam’s head into his shoulder. “Hey’a Sammy,” Dean says. Sam lets out a huff and manages a, “Hey.” They take a second to just stand there, Sam supporting Dean’s weight as best he can, hunched over to press himself into Dean while also giving himself to Dean as a fencepost to lean against. Dean pats the back of his head, pets it a bit, then mumbles, “We’ve got an audience.” Sam thinks about Jody’s screen door and the living room window, “Don’t care.” There’s something that was probably supposed to be a laugh that comes from Dean, and after another moment, Sam loosens his grip. He uses the arms under Dean’s armpits to help him sit on the porch step and lets himself sit next to him, even though his absolute terror has returned and he’s not sure Dean really wants him there. A bottle is pressed into his hand, and for a second, he’s thinking about Dean, alone in the bunker, without alcohol to help him sleep or deal with his memories. “Cream soda,” Dean says, tapping the label, “You still like that crud, right?” “Better’n root beer,” Sam confirms, glancing over at Dean’s bottle, which is, indeed, just root beer. They sit for a second and drink their sodas. “Let’s not do this again,” Dean says, “The whole ‘leave Dean in the bunker thing’.” “Sorry—” Sam starts, surprised at how easy it is to say the word. “Not asking for an apology,” Dean interrupts, “Just saying. We shouldn’t get to the point where it needs to happen.” Sam snorts at that, but doesn’t respond. It feels like his brain’s gone on standby mode, or maybe like it’s stuck on a staticy station on an old tv. Another thing to feel guilty about, another time he abandoned Dean. He can add it to the pile. Dean sighs a bit, looks out to the road, “Done a lot of thinking these past few days. Didn’t really have anything to do other’n think and watch Netflix. Arrested Development’s pretty good.” “Me too. Not. . . Netflix. Thinking.” “Okay,” Dean says, and gears up like what he’s about to say might hurt them both, “You go first.” Sam feels a little shock run through him, and starts picking at the wrapper on his bottle. He’s—he’s—he doesn’t know where to start. “Okay. Okay. So. Things. Things need to change. Between us.” “You’re tellin’ me,” Dean mumbles when Sam pauses. “We’re. We’re not—it’s not healthy Dean, how we’re living. Not just—it’s not just the drinking. It’s not even just the hunting or whatever. We keep—we’ve had to deal with apocalypses non-stop for years. We’re both—there’s a lot of mental stuff there. A lot of—there’s bad moves,” he pauses, and admits, “on—not just on my part.” Dean takes it like a champ, but Sam can see how he’s holding himself back from defending himself. Or, more likely, deflecting, he corrects. “I’m—I’m not trying to downplay the crap that I’ve done. But—but there’s stuff for both of us. That we—we need to address. Or something.” Dean nods, taking another sip of his root beer. Sam’s not sure how to put every conversation he’s had with Jody, every confusing train of thought he’s followed, every late night realization into words. “Your turn,” he says, and wonders why he always thinks of Dean deflecting, when he’s just as bad. Dean holds the bottle to his mouth for a moment, not drinking, just letting it sit there. “I’ve realized,” he starts, breath whistling over the top of the soda bottle, “as chick-flick as it is, that I don’t know my . . . My job. When you’re not around,” he says, stumbling over the words, a hand rubbing at the knee of his good leg. Sam presses his shoulder against Dean’s. “Hunting. It’s the life,” Dean continues, “It’s good. It works. But I don’t…” He trails off. “I don’t want to do it without my brother,” Sam mumbles. A long forgotten joke that spanned a fall and half of winter one year in Texas. Sam, curled with his forehead against a desk, Dean, in the classroom two hallways away. Dean, walking him home, asking, “What you say to get them to back off?” Dean slumps, nods. They sit, and Sam wonders if Jody and the other guy are still watching. “Do you remember,” Sam says, not sure where he’s going with it, “when. With dad. After.” He steels himself, “When dad died, and we were both messed up about it?” “Yeah,” Dean says, with just a touch of hesitation in his voice, “Long time ago, that.” He takes a swig. Sam picks at the label of his bottle, “You knew,” a breath, “You knew I was messed up about it. And I kept drilling you instead. And you had it mostly figured out. It was me who—who wasn’t facing it.” “Sounds like you,” Dean snorts. “I—I think—I’m—I turn my feelings onto you when I get upset. I try to put things there that aren’t always and I—I’m sorry for that.” Dean takes another second before he responds, looking somewhere to the left of the Impala, “I don’t think that’s always what it is. Sometimes, yeah. But… We’ve been through some of the same stuff. Or similar. And that… It screws with a person.” They both know what he’s talking about. It’s not hard to jump directly from now to… then. “It screws with your head,” Dean continues, “and we haven’t… Life hasn’t exactly been great all the time either.” Sam shakes his head, agreeing. “But you know, when I was—it’s always easier when I’ve got you to think about. When you’re around.” “Being around him made my brain quiet,” Sam says, feeling the words trip over his tongue. Dean frowns, “What’s that from?” Sam huffs a laugh, “You remember that book, uh, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close?” Dean squints his eyes, “I think so.” “Yeah. It’s from that.” “Geek,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. Sam inhales, and something shaky in his chest wobbles, “Jerk.” Dean lights up, a smile tugging at his lips, “Bitch.” They both smirk at each other, and then turn back to looking at nothing in particular. “We’ve got lots of things to fix,” Dean says, “Or to figure out how to live with...right.” Sam nods. “I think…” Dean trails off for a moment, tapping one of his fingers against the glass of his bottle, “I think I never understood… The thing with Gadreel.” Sam’s throat seizes up. “I...I didn’t just watch Netflix. You had a lot of books out and I… Sam, there’s just…” He stops, seemingly without words to convey his thoughts with. “Yeah,” Sam says, knowing exactly which books Dean’s talking about, “Those journals are pretty… In-depth. It’s actually interesting—the guy that was the vessel, Johan or whatever, he—” “Sam,” Dean says, stopping his rambling. Sam hunches back in on himself, “Sorry.” Dean shakes his head, “No. I—I—Look, this isn’t—” he inhales, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so selfish when you were dying. We keep doing this man, the back and forth dying. I can’t…” “Yeah,” Sam says. He knows. He knows the untethered quality of the world when Dean isn’t in it, that sweeping blankness that makes everything void. And Dean shrugs, adjusting the jacket of his collar. “I don’t…” Sam begins, hesitating, “It’s gonna take a while before—before I can… Before I can forgive you for it. It hurts. But… I’m trying. I have been for a while.” Dean’s eye twitches, and he tenses up and then releases it, slumping down, “Okay. I can live with that.” “And I’m sorry too,” Sam says, “For… There’s a lot. I keep... “ he chuckles a bit, wry, “You know, I confessed in that church all the times I let you down. And I just keep doing it. I can’t—I’m—I can’t... You had a point. When you… what you said about dad and me. I keep trying not to be him, but everytime it seems like it just keeps turning around.” “Dad was a good guy,” Dean defends, almost like it’s instinct, and then he backs down a little, “But you’re even better.” That breaks something inside Sam and he can feel how his jaw wobbles at it. They sit there for a long moment. “This psychic stuff,” Dean says, “I... I know I haven’t been all that great about it. But I—I just—” “It’s hard remembering what it was like last time.” Dean nods. Sam shifts away from Dean a bit and quietly admits, “I went to see Missouri. Crowley too. They, uh. They both seemed pretty insistent that you were the odd one out for not being psychic.” Dean’s brows furrow and his mouth turns down into a deep frown, “You mean…?” Sam shrugs, “Psychics tend to run in families. Ones like ours… It’s no surprise that I ended up with these… Abilities.” “So they’re not…?” “They’re not from the demon blood,” Sam says, and there’s something so freeing in that statement that he wants to yell it from on high, “Azazel bound all the psychic kids to him so he could feed off their power and control it. That’s why there were so many of us.” Dean blinks, and his face smooths out to settle on contemplative, “Huh.” Sam nods, pursing his lips. Behind them, the screen door opens. “Feel free to stay out here if you want,” Jody says, “but I’ve got dinner on the table.” Dean turns to him, waggling his eyebrows. Sam can’t help but grin, shaking his head. They head inside.   The dude who drove the Impala introduces himself as the famed ‘Asa Fox,’ and they spend dinner comparing hunting stories. At one point, they start talking about first hunts while Alex rolls her eyes at them, and Asa admits, “A werewolf got me into this mess. A hunter saved my life and left, and I spend all my spare time finding news of hunts and trying to send them to her. There sure wasn’t a Mary Campbell in any phone book I looked in though, so I still don’t know who the hell she was.” Next to Sam, Dean starts choking on his mouthful of food, and Sam has to fight not to do a spit take with the punch he’s just put in his mouth. He’s not entirely successful, and a little bit spills out onto his chin. He grabs his napkin and thumps Dean on the back. Once Dean has an air passage to breath through, he slams a hand down on the table and looks Asa in the eye. “Did you say ‘Mary Campbell’?” “Uh, yeah,” Asa says, looking just a little bit freaked out. “Mary Campbell,” Dean repeats, agast. Sam’s busy leaning back and shaking his head at the irony the universe likes to throw at them and pressing his hands to his mouth. Dean shoves a hand into his pocket and comes back with his wallet. He flips it open and pulls out a worn picture. “That her?” He asks. Asa leans over and tilts his head at it. He shrugs, “Memory’s not the best, but I’d go with yes.” Sam starts laughing, and Dean hits him in the stomach, making all of his air whoosh out of his body. Asa and Jody are looking back and forth between the two of them, and even Alex looks intrigued. Dean just sits back and whispers, “I'll be damned.” Sam can’t stop laughing, and tears start to form in his eyes. “We could start a club,” Dean says, shaking his head as he puts his wallet back in his pocket. “What,” Sam says, in between his cackles, “The ‘In Hunting Because of Mary Winchester Club’? Tagline,” he thrusts his hand out and sweeps it across his body, “Now with a seventy-five percent survival rate!” That breaks Dean, and he starts laughing too. Asa’s brows furrow, and then something clicks, “Mary Campbell was…” “Our mom,” Sam says, finally catching his breath, “Mary Winchester. Campbell was her maiden name.” “No way,” Jody say, huffing out a laugh as well, “what are the odds?” “Holy cow,” Asa says, mystified, “I guess that explains a bit.” “Yeah,” Sam says, “no kidding.”   “So,” Jody says, after Asa leaves for some get-together or another and Alex begs off to finish homework, “What are we doing?” Sam and Dean share a look. Dean nods at Sam. “I think—We think,” he corrects, “We’re gonna take a break from hunting. A real break. Actively. I need to get a hold of whatever these powers are.” “And I need to get one-hundred again. This leg won’t help anybody,” Dean says. Sam nods at him, “And. We need to figure out. Something. For mental health stuff,” he feels awful just saying the words. Jody smiles at them both, “That sounds good. I’ll be here, you can come up and stay anytime. “Thanks,” they both say. Jody reaches over the table and grasps one hand from each of them, “I’m glad. Just... Glad.” She stands up and shoos them away from helping with the dishes and tells them to get the air mattress ready in the living room if they want to be of help. Sam helps Dean limp out of the room. They rock-paper-scissors over the couch and mattress. Sam wins and has no qualms over stealing the couch away from Dean. When they bed down, he listens to Dean breathing and the ticking of a clock somewhere in the room and shuffles until he’s on his stomach and his leg can hang over the edge and rest on Dean’s. “Okay Sammy?” Dean asks in the darkness. “Yeah,” Sam says, and he thinks he might mean it, “I’m okay.”  

  Kurosaki Ichigo   He didn’t like being the bad guy. At least, that’s what he told himself. He really wasn’t sure anymore what it was that brought him joy in hurting others. Was it control? Aizen stripped it from him with casual ease. The Gods stole his very soul out from under his feet. If he relished  control over others, hurting and maiming, then why allow Grimmjow to do the same to him? Why enjoy it?   It was distressing, to not know which facet was true, or if they were both him, twisted and broken, flames fanned by the chorus and silence of the Gods. Thinking about it was disturbing, so he tried not to. Grimmjow was his restraint, his conscience. He thought that scared people, that an arrancar––a violent arrancar––was the only thing standing between them and oblivion.  Well, that was an exaggeration, but it was becoming increasingly true. What they didn’t hear was Zangetsu in his soul, whispering reassurances and shouting obscenities. He wasn't alone, not really.   Ichigo had Kugo sitting cross legged, wrapped up in la sangre. If the dark hurt him any more or less than an arrancar, Ichigo couldn't tell, but he was okay enough to shout obscenities. “If this is how you make friends, no wonder you're a fucking loner.”   That kind of stung, but Kugo was a stranger, and as far as digs went, it could be worse. Ichigo reached for the necklace that lay on his chest, lifting it to study it. “Don't need new friends.”   “Great,” Kugo growled, “Feeling's mutual. That's mine.”   “I don't sense anything.”   “Cause you aren't a fullbringer. Drop it.”   Ichigo studied it inside and out. The God's could “see” it, but they weren't interested. Curious. Ichigo let it slip from his fingers. It swung back down  to thud against Kugo’s chest, and worthless in the face of Gods or not, it seemed to reassure him. Ichigo couldn’t blame him, it would make him feel better too. Ichigo said, “Take me to where the shinigami was killed.”   “After this?” Kugo let out breathy laughter carried on an exhale. He shook his head. “I don't think so.”   Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Don’t pretend you were ever going to cooperate. You were never going to show me.” Kugo narrowed his eyes and held his tongue. Probably a wise choice, Ichigo didn’t think he’d have the restraint for that if he were in Kugo’s shoes. He hated being caught. Loathed it.   Ichigo crouched so they were at eye level, resting his elbows on his knees. Those brown eyes held him in callous disregard. He knew that look, he’d seen it many times before. This was a man with a goal, a man ready and willing to kill and use people to get what he wanted. But they were also the eyes of someone that knew loss. Only loss could harden someone like that, and set them so firmly on their path.   “I've known a lot of people with eyes like that.” Ichigo looked between his eyes, wondering if it would do him any good to infiltrate his soul with die Konigin. He wasn't Quincy. Even with power in his blood, Ichigo couldn't be sure he wouldn't kill him by accident. He tightened his grip on la sangre, sinking just skin deep, and accused, “Manipulator.”   Kugo paled, pain flashing in his eyes. “You don’t know me, kid.”   “No,” Ichigo agreed. “But I know what you are.”   Instead of arguing, Kugo changed his tune. “The shinigami aren't your friends.”   “I know,” Ichigo said. He didn’t think Kugo was expecting that response, he barely had time to hide his shock. “The friends I have, I know as individuals. I’m well aware of the dangers of Seireitei. Their power is in people, not some sekiseki and a big wall. Seireitei may be gone, but I'm not stupid enough to think it's influence died with it.”   “The shinigami are a plague.”   “Noted,” Ichigo said dryly. He turned the conversation back on Kugo. “I think you believe you're a lot smarter than you are.”   Kugo’s face twisted into a grimace. “You saying you're smarter than me?”   “No,” Ichigo smiled to himself. “But I've killed a lot of smarter men.” Kugo swayed back, and Grimmjow took a step closer. Ichigo’s voice dropped in pitch. “People that thought they could trick me.” He wasn’t so stupid, not always. He at least knew when he was being used. Didn’t mean he could stop it, but he could try.   Ichigo asked, “What do you think you want with me, Kugo?”   “Condescending prick,” Kugo snarled. “I know what I want, and it’s none of your business.”   Ichigo reached for him. He didn’t move fast, or slow, he simply wrapped his hand around his throat, and stood. He   squeezed hard enough lift him, and gravity did the work for him. “I really don’t like being used, Kugo.” The fullbringer struggled against la sangre, but he’d have better luck tearing open a garganta with his teeth; he wasn’t going anywhere.   His face turned a deep shade of red even before his feet had left the ground. La sangre was already a strain on him, adding to it was making this swift.   It was fascinating, to have the spark of a living soul in his hand. He could feel the sea of hundreds, thousands...millions of lives, but they hovered outside his focus like fog. Right here, beneath his palm, was a life. A life he could snuff out. And why shouldn’t he?   “Kurosaki.”  Grimmjow’s voice sounded strange. “You’re going to kill him.”   For a brief second, Ichigo considered the downside, then struggled to find one. “Maybe I want to.”   Grimmjow’s hand fell to his arm, brows drawn tight in stress. “Remember why you’re here.”   Ichigo blinked at him, then at his hand, tight on forearm. He returned his gaze to Kugo. The fullbringer gasped for air, his right eye bled red, a blood vessel staining his sclera.   Grimmjow tried again. “You told your friend you wouldn't hurt him. You lied.”   He lied. Ichigo dropped Kugo. The fullbringer crumpled in a heap at his feet, chest heaving for air. Just a pinned mouse, struggling in his claws.   He lied a lot those days, what was one more life? The life of a stranger that would use him if he could.   “King, listen to koneko.”   'Why?’   Ossan's voice surprised him, he was so quiet those days. “ You're slipping, this isn't you.”   “Isn't it?” He didn't mean to say that out loud, but it felt necessary to talk over the whispers and screams in his head.   “The God's are restless, Ichigo, and the pain may have dulled, but do not forget the monsters whose teeth have seized you.”   “Monsters…” Ichigo repeated. He felt Grimmjow’s eyes on him like a heavy weight, his words ringing in his head as loudly as Ossan’s. He lied, and he felt nothing.   Getting his legs beneath him, Kugo looked up, his expression closer to fear than rage. He choked, “You're crazy.”   He thought that should hurt to hear, but from prey, from a stranger, it meant alarmingly little. “Everyone says it,” Ichigo said absently. “It must be true.” He studied the fullbringer, and realized ossan was right. They were all right, this wasn't him.   Kugo expressed a desire to use him, but nothing had come of it. Would he really kill someone for nothing. So far he’d even helped him. Despite that, he didn’t have it in him to apologize.   Being around a fullbringer was dangerous, the God's were out for blood and something about this man stank of prey.   Ichigo took a steady step back and said, “Believe it or not, but I kind of like you, Kugo.”   “Is that supposed to make me  happy?”   “No, but you should know I understand you. We’re a lot alike.”   Kugo stood, hand around his neck and scowled, his lip curled in disgust. “How could you possibly know? You’re friend is in my bar every other weekend, your family is a few blocks west; you know nothing.”   “What the fuck do you know?” Grimmjow snapped. Ichigo shot Grimmjow a look, and that was all he needed for the arrancar to back down. Ichigo said, “You think I don’t understand loss. Revenge?”   Ichigo didn’t expect an answer, and he didn’t want to explain. He didn’t think it would sway Kugo’s opinion, and he didn’t want to share. It was no surprise to Ichigo that the fullbringer didn’t know anything about him. He’d seen him as a substitute shinigami, and no shinigami that knew his circumstances would have ever had contact with Kugo.   It was fascinating, to be face to face with someone who thought they knew him, but were struggling and doubting their own preconceptions. It was easier to see on a stranger than someone he loved, but the resemblance was there nonetheless.   Ichigo had seen that look before, many times. Often from Grimmjow.   Ichigo made a thoughtful sound in the growing silence and repeated, “We’re a lot alike.”   “You're nothing like him,” Grimmjow hissed.   Ichigo turned to look at his conduit with a frown. That just wasn’t true, but there was no sense arguing. “Take me to where the shinigami was killed, Kugo.”   The fullbringer leveled him with a calculating look, then it fell through and he said bluntly, “I’m not doing that for nothing.”   “Are you stupid?” Grimmjow growled. “Do you wanna die?”   Ichigo held back the very real urge to hurt the fullbringer. He paused, clenching his jaw, and hoped that pause didn’t appear thoughtful. “I don’t have time to fulfill your requests.”   Kugo gingerly prodded his neck, winced, and said, “Then give me an I.O.U.”   “Can you really trust a liar?” Ichigo asked.   “I'll take my chances,” Kugo said.   Ichigo wasn't interested in entertaining that demand a anyway. “No.”   Kugo swayed back, disengaging from the confrontation. “Then you'll get nothing from me.”   Ichigo's hand shot out for Kugo's face, his claws digging into the side of his head. La sangre sank into his skin, and he reached for his memories like he might a hollow. Kugo screamed, and while he could feel the darkness in his soul, it told him nothing. He wasn't trying to be gentle, but it seemed a full bringer was too different from a hollow.   Frustrated, Ichigo let him go. Kugo’s scream stopped short and he doubled over, panting,  “What the fuck is that shit?”   Ichigo didn’t feel inclined to answer. If Kugo didn’t  feel forthcoming, than he wouldn’t be either. “What do you want, Kugo?”   The fullbringer coughed and sat back on his heels.  “Kill the Gotei 13.”   Ichigo snorted.     “The Soutaichou.”   “No. I’m not killing anyone for you.”   “Then we’re done.”   Ichigo frowned at him, hands clenched, and tried to think instead of lash out. “What about the truth?”  Kugo’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The shinigami called you a killer. I doubt that’s what happened. Would you settle for the truth?”   “No.” Kugo didn’t even have to think twice.   “It's an equal exchange. You get your side of the story told, and you show me where he was killed. I never asked you to give up on revenge, that has nothing to do with me.”   “Thought the shinigami were your friends? You’d just let me carry on, plotting to kill them?” His tone was a touch facetious, but he was no less serious.   “I have friends who happen to be shinigami, and I can’t afford to make them an enemy again.”   Kugo scoffed. “Why not? You’re strong enough you could wipe them out in a heartbeat.”   “That’s exactly why,” Ichigo answered. “Now get up, tell me where to go.”   Ichigo broke his hold on la sangre and Kugo shakily stood. He put his hand out. “Shake on it.”   Ichigo eyed his hand,  then raised his eyes to meet Kugo’s. “Are you going to trust a liar?”   “Do I have a choice?” Kugo countered.   Ichigo narrowed his eyes, still deeply uncomfortable locking himself to his own word, despite however strong he may be. He reached out and took the fullbringers hand, both of them unhappy about the compromise, but he heard once that was the telltale sign of a good deal, so maybe things had gone well. Or maybe he’d remembered wrong.   Ichigo said, “Tell me where I’m taking us.”   “You’re not taking me through that shit again,” Kugo snarled.   “You’re sturdy, you’ll live.”   Kugo  looked unimpressed. Grimmjow goaded, “Don’t be a pussy, it won’t kill ya.”   The look Kugo shot him was murderous, but when his attention returned to Ichigo, his voice was surprisingly steady. “Can I have my  hand back?”   Ichigo tightened his grip, hard enough to grind bones together. “No.”   “What is it?” Kugo demanded instead. “I can’t feel a lick of reiatsu on you, but I know you have it. That shit isn’t reiatsu.”   “It doesn’t concern you,” Grimmjow growled.   Ichigo agreed, so he had nothing to add to that threat.  He tightened his grip enough to make Kugo wince. “Give me a place, Kugo.”   Kugo’s annoyance was clear, but he seemed resigned to cooperate. “The old convenience store down by the school.”   Ichigo's stomach bottomed out. He dropped Kugo’s hand before he broke it, and the cause of his panic didn’t go unnoticed by Grimmjow.   Ichigo turned, pulling the three of them through la sangre as he did. He stood in the middle of the road, empty and dark, and recognized it. He knew this road too well, his sisters walked to and from school by it nearly every day. Anger didn’t even begin to cover how he felt. The streetlights lining the road flickered, then burst, leaving them in true darkness. “DON'T HIDE FROM ME!” he roared. His voiced bounced back to him off of cold concrete and empty buildings and fell flat. There was no life here, no moths to dance around a light, no bugs to sing; the street was as dead as the shinigami tasked with protecting it.   But he felt the attention now. Something deeper than his awareness. His voice hadn't fallen on deaf ears. “SHINIGAMI! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”   The breeze shifted, dragging leaves over the ground with the scrape and skid of brittle death. A wind chime hummed someplace distant then settled, and the stillness spread like fingers over the nape of his neck. “I want you, godling.”   Ichigo stiffened. He didn't take the bait. There was nothing there, there was nothing and no one to face. “You can't have me,”  he snarled.   “That's,” it sighed, it's voice a soft whisper in his ear, “a shame.”   Ichigo lashed out with the full force of the God's, swarming over his skin in racing lines of shimmering dark and light and void. The voice was gone, but the presence lingered, heavy and still. It felt real, but he knew there was nothing.   Grimmjow hovered nearby in a nervous crouch. Ichigo knew he felt the threat, but he was unsure which was a bigger threat, Ichigo, or this unknown force.   Kugo was nervous, but he didn’t have the same insight Grimmjow did when it came to Alteza. Ichigo left him standing in the road, suddenly beside Grimmjow. He rested his hand on the back of his neck, a gesture that  both reassured the arrancar and riled him up. Ichigo called out to Kugo. “Do you feel it?”   The fullbringer was damp with nervous sweat, although it could have been due to his contact with Alteza. He licked his lips, eyes frantically searching for an enemy he couldn’t see, and couldn’t fight. “Yeah, I feel it.”   “Where is it?” Ichigo demanded.   Kugo looked at him like he was insane, so Ichigo  supplied some more encouragement. “Where?!”   “I don’t know!” “Focus!”   “Stop shouting at me!”   The wind shouldered by them all, blowing with sudden force. Buried within the chill was laughter Ichigo wasn’t sure anyone else could hear.   Kugo pointed suddenly, directly at him. “Behind you.”   From the terror and determination in his  eyes, Ichigo didn’t think he was lying. Turning, he shoved Grimmjow behind him and  lashed out with Alteza. Darkness swept from the ground, through buildings and bedrooms and telephones lines like surf, dissipating into curling lines of smoke.   “It’s gone,” Kugo said.   Ichigo could feel that. It ran, because Ichigo knew everything he needed to know; It wanted him, it made damn sure he knew that, and it threatened his family. He was no better that a trapped animal, and it knew it. Ichigo was no threat to Shinigami, not anymore. “Fuck…”   Grimmjow straightened, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. “What the fuck was that, Kurosaki?”   Ichigo glanced back at him, then laughed, swiping a hand over his face. “I’ve been played, that’s what happened.” Time and time again, he fell into the hands of people that wanted his power for themselves. What Shinigami wanted with him, Ichigo could only guess, but he doubted it was anything pleasant, and he wasn’t into whoring out his soul for any unknown entity that crossed his path.   He might be upset, but Ichigo noticed Kugo backpedalling away. He thought he could slip away  unnoticed? He’d just proven he had a skill he could utilize, and he wasn’t going to put Chad into the line of fire.   Stepping into Shunpo, he grabbed Kugo by the shoulder. “Oh no, you work for me now.”   “I don’t have to do shit for you,” Kugo snarled. He swat at the hand on his shoulder, and Ichigo forced Kugo to his knees.   “You're my canary in the coal mine, Kugo. You're not going anywhere.”   “Our deal was to bring you here, and I'm not makin’ and new deals with you. I want no part of this freakshow.”   “That’s too bad.” Ichigo’s voice held mock sympathy and an undercurrent of rage. He held Kugo down, and considered his options. He  refused to leave his family, not when this thing could kill just by proximity alone. He also knew it fled from the God’s direct influence. La sangre, das licht, and the Kugeki could harm it.   If it wanted him, why not just take him now?   “It’s weak,” Zangetsu supplied. “It’s been skirting beneath your notice, gathering power. If it wants your soul form, it needs power enough to take it. Don’t give it that chance. Hunt it down and kill it.”   ‘I won’t leave my family.’   “Whatever this fuck wants with you, your family is as good as dead if it gets you.”   “Shit.” Ichigo looked from the ground, to Grimmjow.   The arrancar looked more than worried, he flat out looked  scared. To an outsider, the arrancar might not look so different, but Ichigo  saw. A cold sweat shone on his skin, his eyes roaming over the street for an enemy that was no longer there. Facing threats with no tangible form and no way to defend himself was taking a toll. He didn’t want Grimmjow to cower in fear, but at a certain point, he was nothing but kindling, and he didn’t want him to catch fire.   Grimmjow asked, “Is it only going after shinigami?”   “I think so.”   Grimmjow’s eyes fell to Kugo and  he asked, “Does it want revenge? The princess’s old man sealed it away.”   Revenge didn’t seem like the right phrase. Maybe it felt just to Shinigami. Appropriate. But Ichigo understood why Grimmjow pointed it out. Bring the prey to him, wait for the hunter.   His senses were spread wide, conscious of the shinigami that were  out of sight in living world, if not Soul Society. He was startled to discover one wasn’t there. It was moving fast. “Kugo. I don’t have time to argue with you. The second it’s done with the shinigami, it’s going to move on to other lucrative prey, and it’s only getting stronger.”   The fullbringer looked up, then to Grimmjow and bared his teeth in distaste. “I hate the shinigami. As far as I’m concerned, it’s doing me a favor.”   Grimmjow stepped up to him, crouching to get on his level. “And when those two-faced pricks are dead, who’s next? Don’t be a dumbass. You don’t feed the monster and hope you don’t get eaten.”   Kugo grit his teeth, and maybe he’d already come to that conclusion, but he didn’t think on it long. He reached up for Ichigo’s forearm, his fingers digging in, but Ichigo still felt nothing. He pushed and growled, “Let me up, asshole.”   Ichigo pushed harder, this time he dropped his reiatsu. The wind was punched out of Kugo’s chest, the weight settling on Grimmjow’s shoulders hard enough to make him shake. The arrancar was used to the weight, no matter the strength difference, he took the sudden power in stride.   Ichigo bent lower and threatened, “Cross me, and I will kill you. It takes effort not to, fullbringer. Don’t test my patience.” He straightened, lifting his hand from his shoulder along with his reiatsu. He wasn’t sure how effective that threat would be, but he meant every word.   Kugo straightened,defiance in his eyes, but he was white as a sheet.   A man attacked him from above, presumably another fullbringer. Ichigo made no move to defend himself; Grimmjow moved first. Whether it was something Ichigo had done or said, it seemed to be the final straw for Kugo’s fast-footed friend.   His conduit caught a sword  the fullbringer materialized in his hand, wrenching it and pulling the startled fullbringer off balance. Grimmjow punched him in the face hard enough that the man lost his grip on his sword and went sliding back on the pavement. Blood poured from a broken  nose, coughing on the blood that drained down the back of his throat. It didn’t look like Grimmjow had broken his neck, but it was a close thing.   The arrancar tossed the sword away and sauntered up to the man. Ichigo stared at Grimmjow’s back, eyes roaming over the back of his neck, across his shoulders and down to hands tensed like claws. Desire clawed up his throat and he swallowed. This arrancar was strong, he was loyal; mine .   Grimmjow held this new fullbringer down with a foot on his neck and called out, “Do I kill him?”   Ichigo looked to Kugo. The man was still shaken, but the threat of death looming over his ally’s head drew a mixed response. Resignation, acceptance, rage, and a mix of things he couldn’t place. Ichigo called back without looking. “No.” He lowered his voice for Kugo’s ears alone. “I’ll let him live, Kugo, but not if he gets in my way again.”   The man on the ground groaned, “Why can't I cut you?”   Grimmjow humored him with an answer. “Hierro, bitch.”   Ichigo looked over Kugo again, wondering if the reason he wasn't distraught wasn't that his friend was caught, but because he'd failed. Just what it was he failed to do, Ichigo was unsure. He had an inkling that his failure had something to do with Alteza's presence in Grimmjow’s soul, not his heirro. Grimmjow's place in the worlds was as disrupted as any conduit.   “Try something again,” Ichigo warned, “and I'll take your sword arm.” Kugo clenched his jaw and said nothing. They were wasting time with the fullbringer's pride, and Ichigo was fed up humoring it. He ordered, “Knock him out.” Without preamble, he ripped the charm from Kugo's neck.   “Bastard!”   “You don't need your weapon to sniff out a monster. I'm keeping this until we're done.” As he spoke, Grimmjow slammed the humans head against the pavement with controlled force. He didn't feel dead, but then if he'd fucked up and killed him on accident, Ichigo didn't think he'd lose sleep over it.   “Don't trust me?” Kugo sneered.   “No more than you trust me,” Ichigo answered. He called over to Grimmjow. “Turn him on his side  so he doesn’t drown.”   Grimmjow scoffed in annoyance, shoving the fullbringer to his stomach with a callous kick to the shoulder. Ichigo couldn’t chide him for being rough, if he’d reacted first, he might have just killed him and been done with it. He had  to remind himself, killing didn’t win him any friends. Kugo might despise him, but killing his allies wouldn’t make it better.   “Hold your breath,” Ichigo warned. He tugged them through la sangre again, this time to his father’s house. From the tally in his mind, he was down three shinigami. Their lives were slipping away quickly, it set his teeth on edge. Kugo stopped trying to stand and sat heavily in the street in front of their house. He looked more than ill, if he threw up, Ichigo wouldn’t blame him.   Ichigo turned to Grimmjow, fisting his hand in his jacket to yank him into a kiss. He didn’t think about it, he couldn’t.   He smelled his fear and the cold of night in his skin and he pulled him closer, claws raking across his back. Grimmjow reacted to his touch with so much aggression, the press of his tongue to sharp canine’s was all too visceral and real. He let it burn into his memory, leaning back from his conduit before he lost his nerve or tore him apart.   He traced the estigma beneath his eye with the pad of his thumb, his arrancar’s eyes blazing with rage. “Don’t you  dare leave me with children .”   “You’re not coming with me,” Ichigo said. He spoke it like an order, but he couldn’t keep the pain off his face. Leaving him was a risk. Bringing him was a risk. There was no option short of sitting on his hands that wouldn’t be a risk to the people he loved.   Grimmjow’s hand  shot up to grasp his arm before he could pull away. “Fuck you, you’re not leaving me here.”     Ichigo held onto the words, thoughtful, then spoke them as a gentle request. “Protect my family.”   Grimmjow shook his head and growled, “That’s not fair, Kurosaki. Don’t you put that on me.”   “I trust you.”   “Goddammit,” Grimmjow whispered. “Goddamn you.”   Worry curdled in his heart, his instincts cringing back from leaving him and his family out of sight. He drew his hand back from Grimmjow’s cheek, and he throat tightened. He couldn’t say it, so he didn’t try.   Ichigo snapped his fingers, a dome of la sangre spreading around his family home, around the 3 people in the world he cared about the most, and he left.   ---xxx---   Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez   That bastard just left. He left him there in a dome of darkness and he didn’t know if he would come back.   “Shoulda known you were his bitch.”   The words sank into an open wound like salt. Grimmjow didn’t think twice before he’d thrown Ginjou down, ramming his fist into his face again, again, again––there was a lot of blood but it wasn’t enough. Ichigo left.   A hand caught his wrist and he whirled with a shout of rage. He was stopped short, strong arms holding him in place. Grimmjow’s eyes widened. Isshin. Not a threat.   Kurosaki’s father held an expression he didn’t recognize, but it was intense. Isshin’s grip on his arms was strong, stronger than him outside of resurrection. Grimmjow’s arms shook, trembling in exertion. Isshin’s voice was steady, it sort of reminded him of Ichigo. “Relax, arrancar, you’re not killing anyone on my front step where my girls can see.”   Chest heaving, Grimmjow realized there were 2 pairs of eyes on him. He looked over at Ichigo’s sisters, and instead of horror, they looked deeply sad. Why the fuck would they look at him like that? It made him angry, but it also made him cringe back. It was like they saw more than he wanted, like they didn’t judge him for breaking the face of some stranger in their front yard.   Kurosaki would never forgive him if they had to see that, and he still needed Ginjou. Grimmjow suddenly turned back to the fullbringer, and for some reason Isshin let him go. He shook him by the jacket. “Hey, don’t die, you asshole!”   The fullbringer groaned, but was nearly unresponsive. Isshin rested his hand on his shoulder. “Stop. Reiatsu or not, you hit him hard enough to rattle a wildebeest. Tell me what’s going on.”   Grimmjow abruptly stood, staring wide-eyed down at the fullbringer. He smeared the blood that had splattered his face with the back of his hand. He probably only made it worse by doing that. More than how terrible it probably looked to Kurosaki’s sisters, it disgusted him whose blood it was. He fought to find the words to explain, looking from the dark dome surrounding them, to the concerned shinigami...father, standing before him. “Something wants your son, and it’s eating a whole lot of shinigami to get powerful enough to do it.”   Isshin’s eyes narrowed and he looked up at their inky prison. “This is my son’s doing?”   “Yes.” Grimmjow turned and walked up to the dome, reaching for it tentatively. It didn’t snap to devour him, it behaved like a fluid wall beneath his palm. It flowed over his skin in pulsing ripples, hungrily accepting the blood drying on his hands and face. He leaned back before it could get overzealous, already missing that faint connection with Ichigo. His will was in that wall, his need and desire to protect shaping a thing with no real will of its own.   Despite all that, it confirmed what he already assumed; they were stuck.   “Who’s the stranger?” Isshin asked.   “Kugo. A fullbringer.”   “Why is he in here with us?”   “He can sense the Big Bad,” Grimmjow answered.   “And he’s unconscious,” Isshin said flatly. He sighed. “Help me get him in the house.”   Grimmjow glowered down at Kugo, clenching and unclenching his fists. When Grimmjow didn’t move to help, Isshin crouched down before Kugo and snapped his fingers in front of his face. “How many fingers?” He held up two.   Kugo groaned, “Four? Five...I don’t know.”   Isshin frowned across at Grimmjow. “So how do we fight this Big Bad?”   Grimmjow realized he was restlessly turning in circles, so he willfully stopped. He looked over at the girls, and briefly considered not answering. He didn’t think Kurosaki would have. “We don’t.”   “So why bother with the Big Bad radar?” Isshin asked.   Grimmjow blinked at him. That was a good question. He reached into his pocket, fingering that small token of la sangre. He ran his thumb over the cool surface, one that never grew warm, no matter how much he held it. The cold sank through flesh, down to his bones, but he’d gotten used to it. He hadn’t needed it in a long time. Ichigo said he didn’t think he would be able to use it outside of Hueco Mundo. But he could try. “To buy time,” he finally answered.   There was very little any of them would be able to do against a God, or whatever this thing was, that the Gods turned to it with so much aggression he barely recognized Kurosaki. Protect my family.   “Fuck you, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow whispered. He  turned to Kugo and lifted his shoulders. Isshin didn’t waste those few seconds of charity, he lifted his legs and they got him into the house on a metal table. It smelled like sterilizers and stainless steel. He kind of hated it.   The girls stared at him in thoughtful silence from the doorway; Karin looked stubbornly determined, and Yuzu  seemed to be on the verge of tears. He wondered if they saw that kiss. Maybe they had, maybe they disapproved. Whatever.   He  sat on a metal folding chair while Isshin did his Kidou thing to Ginjou’s face. It occured to Grimmjow that Isshin  was dressed as a shinigami. His body must be somewhere nearby, but he had yet to see it. He didn’t really care; he was worried.   Think about something else.   He lifted his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing tense muscles. Ichigo was gone. He was gone. Gone. He left. Why was he so scared?   He was startled by the appearance of feet in his peripheral. He looked up, and found himself less than a foot from the girl. Yuzu looked nervous, but not enough to back down from whatever mission she was on. “You have that look my brother gets.”   Grimmjow scowled at her. “What look?”   “When he feels helpless, or scared.”   “I ain’t scared,” Grimmjow snapped.   She didn’t flinch or back down, she only smiled. She had eyes like Kurosaki used to have, but he’d never seen such a soft expression on his face before. Now he had the cold eyes of a predator, the unblinking stare of something unfamiliar and different. Now Grimmjow understood Kurosaki’s pain. He thought he did, but now he knew. This is what he lost; Kindness.   Grimmjow lurched to his feet, pushing past the girl to go outside. It was suddenly too cramped, too real. Isshin  shouted at his back, but he was too eager to ignore the shinigami. He wouldn’t leave Kugo alone with his girls, he needed space.   “Oi, arrancar!”   “Fuck off!”   Karin glared at him, unconcerned by the bite in his tone and the violence in his posture. “You won’t hurt me.”   “You don’t know that, kid.”   Her determination set  her jaw and she paced up to him without fear. “I do. I saw.”   Grimmjow shifted, uncomfortable. “Doesn’t mean shit.”   “It does! Are you scared for him?”   Grimmjow broke. “Aren’t you?! You stupid little runt!” He shouted, but he didn’t dare raise a hand.   That didn’t stop Karin. She swat at his chest. “Of course I am! What good does it do to cry or panic?”   Grimmjow took a step back.  He wasn’t expecting that response. It was about as well articulated as an answer he might get from Kurosaki, but it was no less true.   She carried on when he remained silent. “He asked you to protect us, didn’t he?” Grimmjow glared, but held his tongue. “Of course he did, that sounds like exactly the kind of shit my brother would do.”   Again, not what he’d expected, she almost sounded angry. She asked, “What are you scared of, Grimmjow?” He still  said nothing, but this little brat looked like she knew. “Are you scared you’ll fail, you’ll let him down, that he’ll hate you?”   “What makes you think I give a shit about you?!”   “Because you’re scared! People are only scared when they have something to lose. You’re not worried about yourself.”     “How the fuck do you know that?”   “Yuzu told you. You have the same look he does.”   Looking back to the dark dome that trapped them, Grimmjow knew in his gut  what she meant, but he asked anyway. “What look, kid?”   Her expression softened with her tone, but Grimmjow didn’t think it was for him, it was for her brother. “Like you’re ready to throw your life away.”   Grimmjow chest tightened, and he had to wonder why. Did it hurt to be called out? Or because he hadn’t realized. He fingered the medallion in his pocket. Pantera. “Shut up, kid.”   She gave him a steady look, then sat down on the front stoop. He wanted to tell her to go away, but that was stupid, it was her house. So he was left with an audience  for his thoughts. He kept his back to her and focused on his thin bond with Kurosaki. He was alive. Scared and stressed and angry… so angry. God he was powerful. The ocean of his power burned like a sun in his senses. He wanted to track his movements, but it was painful, so he stopped. And he was left in ignorance.   Kugo spoke from behind him. “Pretty shitty to beat up an unarmed man.”   “Fuck you.”   “Pretty sure you’re fucking Kurosaki.”   Grimmjow spun, but Isshin caught his fist before he could make contact. Fuck, he hadn’t even known he was there. Grimmjow stared with wide eyes; the man was a master at concealing his reiatsu. Isshin tightened his hand on his fist until it hurt and warned, “Please don’t threaten our Big Bad radar. And you, Ginjou, don’t taunt the arrancar. You’re just asking for it, and frankly, I’m tempted to let him do it.”   Instead of starting a fight with Kurosaki’s father over a stupid insult, Grimmjow pulled his fist back, rocking back  on his heels. This rage wasn’t all his, some of it spilled over from Kurosaki, some of it boiled in his subconscious like black blood, but the core of it was his. Taunted over something he couldn’t have, hurt , and lashing out only made it more obvious.   “Christ, you’re easy to rile up,” Kugo scoffed. He sat on the front step, lifting his fingers to his temple to nurse what must be a monster headache. Good, he deserved it. “What's the freak doing?”   Grimmjow shot him a glare shared between Yuzu, Isshin and Karin, and answered stiffly, “Fighting. So if you sense that thing from before, tell me, or we're all dead.”   “From what I remember,” Kugo drawled, “You didn't do shit when it showed up before.”   “Neither did you,” Grimmjow shot back.   “So what's an arrancar going to do to a monster?” Kugo made a thoughtful sound, pretending to consider it. “Yeah that's right, nothing .”   Yuzu snapped, “Why are you so negative?”   “Cause I'm old,” Kugo answered.   “You're not old, you're just weak,” Karin whined.   Kugo frowned. “I'm not arguing with a little girl.”   “I'm in middle school!”   Kugo gave her a flat stare. “If I winked at you I’d go to jail; you're a little girl.”   “Okaaaaayyy,” Isshin interrupted, “That's enough of that.” He changed the subject instead, thank the powers that be. “What do people outside this bubble see?”   “Nothing,” Grimmjow answered. “They just carry on, walking around as if it  doesn’t exist. Humans don’t have such shitty instincts after all.”   Karin crossed her arms and leaned on the house. “Did I hear a compliment?”   “Don’t get a big head,” Grimmjow snapped.   The silence stretched, the air in their bubble eerily still.  Grimmjow could still hear the mutterings and whispers of Alteza, but as Kurosaki had warned, eventually it faded into white noise, he hardly noticed it anymore. Isshin broke  that silence. “So...you and my son-”   “Don’t finish that sentence,” Grimmjow hissed. He could feel their questions weighing down the silence, but he didn’t have answers for them. He didn’t know what they were. They weren’t friends; he wasn’t a subordinate, a servant, or even a lover. All he knew was that Kurosaki was his whole world.   And Kurosaki’s family was everything to him. Everything. He wasn’t sure where he squared off when it came to his sisters, but he had a feeling Kurosaki would choose them. He would choose them too. He’d seen the absolute despair on Kurosaki’s face when he woke from a nightmare with the fear his sisters were long dead.   Fuck him for piling so much responsibility onto his shoulders. He’d never asked for this. Kurosaki’s sanity was in the palm of his hand. How easy it would be to  shatter it. But he was unbelievably selfish. He wanted Kurosaki for himself, but at the end of the day, there was nothing left for him.   Fuck him for thinking he would let his sisters die.   “Kugo,” Grimmjow said.   “What?”   Kurosaki’s desperation set off warning bells in his head. “Be ready.” ---xxx---   Kurosaki Ichigo   Dragging every shinigami he knew of through the Kugeki to the middle of nowhere was a bit complicated. What was difficult was corralling something intangible and smart, that didn’t want to be corralled without letting it kill anyone. He was still stronger than Shinigami, he could feel it in his gut. He applied pressure, and its weary bones creaked. Just a little harder and they would fracture and shatter.   He thought he hated die Konigin, Alteza...but these Gods and their hosts had never sought out his family in the hopes to use him. He hated this monster in the same way he’d hated Aizen. He wanted to tear its grinning jaw from its face and grind its bones into dust.   He fought around his cluster of bait. Over fifty shinigami, bound and cowering. If any of them lived, he’d apologize. Like death, Shinigami had marked them, it wanted them next, but fuck if it couldn’t have them. Its very presence  killed the grass, the trees, even the stones. There was something markedly absent in the air, the very life of that world sucked dry.   It slipped in and out of reality, in a space Ichigo wasn’t sure he could follow, its skeletal form rippling like a mirage. He  realized the shinigami could see it now. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t spare the thought to care.   He’d never fought something so silent. Beneath the insanity of the Gods, there was nothing but the wind, and the ring of pure silence in his ears.   It laughed as if it wasn’t trapped, and if he wasn’t so close to ripping it apart with his bare hands.   It dropped its jaw in a sickly smile, collapsing again into dust beneath his sword. The dust went through him. He felt it, he felt too much. Ichigo went rigid, his body refusing to respond. He fell to his knees, the Gods devouring what little pieces of Shinigami that passed through his soul. His cage crumbled, for those few seconds. That fucker sacrificed a huge chuck of its being to surprise him, to overwhelm him with power and the God’s own need to consume and destroy.   Why would it do that? Sacrifice all its gathered power for what? A few seconds headstart.   It disappeared, fleeing into a void.   No .   Ichigo knew where it went. He felt it hit against his weakened barrier around his family, he felt it break through, and his body wouldn’t MOVE. MOVEMOVEMOVEMOVEMOVE.   The God’s grip on his body loosened, his hand tightened on his sword, and he was gone.     He staggered from la sangre, eyes wide in panic. For a split second, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Grimmjow had his arm extended, he was using la sangre. It spilled from his skin like he was bleeding out, feeding off his own blood. It physically shredded him, but he used it, he was their shield, and Shinigami couldn’t reach them. Its bony fingers scraped along the tiny dome Grimmjow had made, a monster prodding for weakness. Ichigo threw his hand out, taking control from Grimmjow, and it shattered that suspended moment.   Shinigami exploded into dust, slamming into Grimmjow’s chest like a crashing wave. It sank into his skin, a silent poison, and Grimmjow’s legs buckled.   Ichigo caught Grimmjow before his knees could strike concrete, calling on every drop of la sangre in his conduit’s body and found something else . Shinigami.   Dread settled in his gut, a pain that squeezed his heart and made it hard to breathe. He gripped Grimmjow’s head, drawing on all of Alteza to force Shinigami out. He dropped his forehead to Grimmjow’s and hissed, “Get out, get out, get out…” He dug his claws into his head, anything to illicit a reaction, but there was nothing. Grimmjow was weak, his arms were shredded from la sangre, his eyes were closed and his body was limp, but his muscles twitched and spasmed as Shinigami invaded his soul.   This wasn’t supposed to happen.   Without warning, Grimmjow grabbed the back of his neck and Ichigo gasped in shock. The voice that met his ears was familiar, but the words and inflection were twisted. “Kill me now, godling. This cluster of souls and sorrow is mine , mine––mine-mine.” It laughed, and Ichigo jerked back, staring down into blue eyes he didn’t recognize. Shinigami laughed harder, stealing Grimmjow’s voice. It grew quieter, a whisper shared between them. “I am a plague in the minds of Gods, feasting on their precious children.”   Ichigo’s hand tightened on Grimmjow’s throat, cutting off his air. The Shinigami didn’t react like a Soul should, it just smiled at him, freakishly wide, stretching Grimmjow’s face into a mockery of real joy. Ichigo screamed, “GET OUT!”   That manic smile only widened. It was goading him, it knew he wouldn’t kill him. It fucking knew.   “Kill him, King.”   His breath burned in his chest. ‘I can’t.’   “Don’t let him be this monster’s plaything.”   Ichigo trembled and la sangre swarmed around him like wildfire.   “KILL HIM!”   “KING!”   Cold reality sunk into his skin and filled him with terror. He’d lost Grimmjow. He was right there beneath his hands, those were his eyes, his smile, but it wasn’t him.   He was gone, locked in his own soul.   Panic drew a gutted sound from his chest. He felt him, he felt his soul, but it was stained with poison that he couldn’t  purge. He would kill him if he tried to separate them, either by his own hands, or with Alteza. He belonged to Shinigami.   Ichigo let go with shaking hands and Shinigami rasped the words through a ruined throat. “He thinks you’re weak. He wants you to kill him. Do it. Do it, Kurosaki.” Ichigo recoiled, his gut twisting. He remembered what it was like to see his lifeless corpse. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.   Shinigami shoved him off and forced Grimmjow to stand, blood oozing from the injuries on his arms. It didn’t react to the pain, smiling down at him. “Young hosts are so easy to fool. Too many attachments, so many wasted emotions.”   It lifted Grimmjow’s left hand and purred, “Stand in my way,” He broke a finger with a wet crunch, and Ichigo flinched, jolted by the suddenness of it. Grimmjow felt that pain, Ichigo knew he felt it. He broke another. “I’ll kill the hollow.” He broke a third finger and twisted.  “And it won’t be swift.”   Ichigo lunged from where he kneeled, catching his wrist. “Stop.”   Shinigami smiled and pulled the broken hand from his grasp, waving with broken, mangled fingers. “Remember this, godling.” It leaned in close enough to kiss and Ichigo grimaced, rocking back. Its voice just as soft and tantalizing as Grimmjow’s, but perversely twisted. “You are weak.”   Shinigami turned away, and Ichigo got one look at the back of Grimmjow’s head. They rippled away in a mirage,  gone to a place he couldn’t go. He could still sense Grimmjow’s soul, like a pinned butterfly. That fire he loved so much was no longer free.   He was gone.   Ichigo stared where they’d been, his breath caught in his throat. He felt...lost.   He stared into the space he’d been and the Gods writhed like snakes in his soul, eager to kill this parasite when it was so weak, but Ichigo didn’t move. He’d made a mistake, he’d failed.  And Grimmjow was the one paying for it. Again.   Movement caught his attention, and his eyes snapped to his father’s, carefully invading his space.   “Ichigo?”   The demigod sucked in a fragile, painful breath.   He ran.  

April, 1913     “Do you guys realize that it’s been almost a year to the day?” Every eye goes to Lucy as soon as she says it. Even Alex, the only person not currently engaged in the intense game of Cribbage happening on Lois and Clark’s living room floor in favour of lying on her back on the couch with a medical textbook, lets the book fall against her chest. Lucy looks up from her cards, blinking at the sudden attention paid to her. “What? It is. I looked at the calendar the other day.” James nods solemnly, bringing his own cards into a tidy pile. “This Friday. I don’t think any of us could forget, Luce.” “It’s just crazy,” Lucy says, sighing and leaning against Jess’ shoulder. Jess looks studiously at her hands, her cheeks turning pink. “It feels like a lifetime ago. I feel like I’ve been here with you guys forever.” “That’s the trauma talking,” Jess says drily. “You’re probably blocking it out.” “Do you blame me?” Winn snorts. “Not at all. I myself intend on chopping the whole thing out of my memory like a deranged surgeon,” he says mildly, cutting the deck. He’s the dealer for this particular game, and he seems to enjoy having some power over Lucy’s winning streak. “How do you plan to do that?” Clark asks. “The Titanic was a pretty big event.” While everyone puts their cards down in order, Winn pins a lascivious look on James. “Distractions.” “Oh, I’m good at those. In fact, I have a date this week,” Lucy says, moving her cribbage pieces down the board while James unsuccessfully tries to hide his blush. “A perfectly wonderful distraction.” Lena barely even has to look at Jess to see her deflate. Since the moment they met on the deck of the Carpathia it’s been terribly, desperately clear that Jess is in love with Lucy, but no matter how many times Lena tries to encourage her to make her move Jess refuses. She has a million excuses – Lucy is busy with law school, it could ruin their friendship, it could split the group apart, ad infinitum – but no matter how hard Lena tries, no matter how many times she and Kara have sneakily planned a group outing and then conveniently forgotten to invite anyone else to ensure Lucy and Jess have time alone, the two of them remain stubbornly single. And Jess remains stubbornly miserable. “Hey, why don’t we all go out on Friday?” Kara suggests, squinting at her cards. They’re resting on Lena’s stomach – Lena is seated on the floor and Lena is leaning back against her, Kara’s legs on either side of her hips – and although Lena’s ban from actually participating in games has yet to be lifted, nobody complains when she nudges Kara in the right direction. “A group distraction.” “Friday night is my date!” Lucy complains. “You can reschedule, right?” Lena says quickly, glancing at Jess. She points at the card Kara should play, and Kara presses an absent kiss to the top of her head in thanks. “Move it forward a night. It won’t be the same if everyone isn’t there.” Lucy fusses over it in typical Lucy fashion, but in the end she seems happy to spend Friday night with the group instead. And when game night is over and everyone is getting their coats, Jess pulls Lena into a quick hug at the door and whispers a grateful thank you. “Jess seemed really upset, didn’t she?” Kara says on the walk home, swinging their joined hands between them as they meander through darkened streets. Their place is closest to Clark and Lois’, and with Lena’s school fees being due soon it’s best to not have to pay for a cab. “By Lucy’s date. It was sweet of you to try and help.” “Jess is my best friend, but I wish I could just shake her sometimes,” Lena sighs. “It shouldn’t be this hard to admit that you like someone. It took us, what. Two days?” “It could be argued that we did it too fast,” Kara reasons, squeezing Lena’s hand. “For other people’s standards, at least. Maybe we shouldn’t be rushing her. Everyone has their own pace.” “It’s been a year!” “It has been a year,” Kara says more quietly. Her grip on Lena’s hand tightens. Over the last year, Lena has learned to distance herself from what happened on the Titanic. She’s adapted, learned to treat it like a wound – as long as she doesn’t jar it, doesn’t give it any pressure, the memories of cold and death don’t choke her. It means she walks with a metaphorical limp, but it gets her and Kara both through the day. It lets Lena concentrate on her studies and live her life functionally. Now, with the one-year mark coming up fast, it’s like the wound is infected. Sometimes no matter how careful she is, spikes of pain still wrack her with no warning. She still wakes sometimes from night terrors, dreams where the ship folds under her feet and her lungs fill with icy seawater. Or worse, dreams where she loses Kara. Where she opens her eyes to see her love frozen and still like all the bodies in the water, her eyes open and unseeing; or where Lena tries desperately to keep hold of her hand as she struggles to reach the surface but ends up watching Kara sink below the waves, arm outstretched. Kara never says as much, but Lena knows that she has the same dreams. She hears Kara talk in her sleep sometimes, calling for her or for Alex in desperation before Lena nudges her awake. The rest of the walk is quiet; but when they get home and climb under the covers, Kara holds her closer than usual. It takes a long time for Kara’s breathing to even out into sleep, and Lena can tell that it’s restless. Lena herself doesn’t fall asleep until the sky beyond the floral curtains starts to lighten.         Friday’s outing starts with two bottles of gin, a tipsy group hug, and a prowl on the town. It’s nothing like the few late night outings Lena managed to sneak when she was still under the thumb of her mother. Those had been secretive, and buttoned-up. Her clothes had been expensive and Veronica had taken her to high-class clubs in London, plying her with champagne and overall making her feel like she was at a slightly more rebellious version of every fancy dinner she’s ever attended. This time, their group is ribald and familial. Working class. No dinner jackets or corsets – Kara and James are wearing suspenders and plain white shirts, Winn in a nice vest, Clark a tweed coat and Homburg; the ladies are in their nicer evening garments. They had all gotten ready together, doing each other’s hair and make-up in Lois’ bedroom while Kara, Alex, and the boys played cards and got through most of a bottle of gin (Maggie drinking the greatest portion, leaving her almost ready for bed by the time they leave the apartment). Now all of them are loose and carefree, winding their way through the Village in a jolly, roving pack. Lucy leads the group, twirling her way down the sidewalk with her arms to the sky while she sings an upbeat, jazzy sort of song that Lena doesn’t recognize. Jess looks on fondly even though it’s terribly off-key, and only gets more so when Winn joins her. He and James are holding hands even in the face of people’s stares, the safety of the group (and Clark’s large shoulders and clean-cut glare) giving them freedom, and Alex is carrying an already-sleepy Maggie on her back. Kara’s long hair is slicked back from her face with some of Clark’s pomade, and the heavy scent of it is strangely comforting. Kara’s arm wraps around Lena’s waist, the warm solid feel of her grounding Lena even through the cloud of alcohol, and when James leads them to a dingy club down two side-alleys and past a bouncer who asks for a password (‘in search of lost time, a reference Lena recognizes as the title of a book on Winn’s shelf but has been too busy to pick up herself) Lena is fascinated by what they find inside. It’s small and crowded, dimly lit and smoky. Through the haze Lena sees a small stage with a singer, a willowy silhouette with a jaunty voice accompanied by a man enthusiastically playing a small piano. There are people with facial hair dressed in corsets and skirts sipping cocktails and chatting at tables around the perimeter, and some boisterous men in careworn suits or shirtsleeves sitting closely with beers and cigars at the bar. There are women in pants and shirtsleeves and suits too, sitting handsomely with arms around each other or around other more dolled-up women and making Kara look the most in-place she’s ever looked in a crowded room. There are people whose gender Lena can’t guess at, and some who seem to be living a truth Lena wants to understand but can’t quite grasp yet. A few people raise their hands in greeting at Winn and James; still others ignore them completely, absorbed in drinking or smoking or talking or dancing in pairs of every variation Lena can imagine. The dance floor seems to be where everyone converges, masculine and feminine and everything in-between coming together in pairs or groups; some of the dancing is familiar, upbeat and skilled, but others are engaged in a kind Lena has never seen. Everyone is much closer than is usually proper, hands exploring and bringing hidden things to light and often devolving into passionate embraces. It feels almost voyeuristic to watch. “How did you find this place?” Lena asks, slipping off her coat. It’s warm in the club, the lighting comprised of old sputtering oil lamps rather than gas or electric, and Winn chuckles. “One of our neighbours spotted us right away and thought we might like it. We’ve sort of become regulars,” he explains, looking around fondly. “It’s a free sort of place. No judgement.” “The motto of the place is, leave your perceptions as to what’s proper with your coat at the door,” James adds on as if he read Lena’s mind, taking Lena’s coat and handing it to a man behind a small booth with everyone else’s. He gives the man a few cents, and leads the group towards the bartender. “Everyone is welcome, but everyone does what they please.” “It’s fascinating,” Clark says, peering around with interest and an arm around Lois. “It’s exhilarating,” Kara breathes, her eyes trained on one of the groups of diversely dressed women smoking hand-rolled cigarettes at the back table. “I’ve never seen so many people like me in a room before.” “I thought you’d like it,” Winn says happily, patting Kara on the shoulder. James manages to pull some tables together so they can sit and nurse more drinks, but they’re barely finished their first round before Lucy is pulling people to the dance floor. Alex stays to hold down the table – Maggie dozing on her lap – while everyone gets up to join in, and what with everyone pairing off, Lucy (eagerly, it seems to Lena) decides that Jess is to be her partner. They make a beautiful pair, with Lucy leading and Jess clearly trying to look less enamored than she is. Kara leads Lena to a free spot on the floor, pulling her close in a way that echoes one of her better memories from the Titanic. Kara seems to feel it, too – she grins as she starts a simple two-step rhythm, seeming to enjoy the fact that she can have Lena flush against her in public and nobody spares them a glance. “Remember the last time we danced?” Kara asks, squeezing Lena’s waist. Her hands are strong and sure, and Lena sinks into the touch. “Vividly,” Lena replies, using the excuse to lean in and say it close to Kara’s ear. With her hand on Kara’s shoulder, she can feel the blonde shiver at her warm breath. “It was when I fell in love with you.” “You weren’t in love with me before that?” Kara says with mock offense, her smile still broad. “I was in love with you the moment we met, you know.” “I was fighting it tooth and nail,” Lena admits, her hand leaving Kara’s shoulder to card through the hair at the base of her neck. “You terrified me.” “You were scared of me?” “I was afraid of falling in love,” Lena clarifies. “Of getting attached to you and having you ripped away. Of living in a way my mother told me was wrong. But I stopped being scared the first time we kissed on the bow of the ship. Even when Corben was chasing us, I wasn’t afraid. You gave me life again.” It’s strange that the first time in so very long that they’ve referenced anything specific that happened on the Titanic is on the crowded dance floor of a club. They’ve talk about their brief courtship in veiled ways, vague allusions to the better memories, but rarely specifics. Specifics lead to memories of what followed, and they both keep those lids firmly closed. But it’s all rather fitting, really, when Lena thinks about it. “And even after?” Kara asks, her voice almost inaudible over the music. Her face is graver, now, the smile gone, but still full of affection and love. “When we were…when we almost died? You didn’t regret it even a little?” Lena shakes her head firmly. “Not once. A year ago I chose to die next to you rather than live without you, and I’ve never regretted it.” Kara’s shoulders relax, like after a year building a life together the last bit of weight that had been resting on them is gone. “Me, too,” Kara says, her eyes shining with emotion. They’ve stopped dancing, just standing still in the middle of the floor as everyone around them moves. “And now we’re here.” “We are. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” “I love you so much, Lena,” Kara says, her voice cracking. She looks like she might cry at any second. Lena wants to reply, but she’s even closer to tears than Kara is – one word and she might dissolve on the spot. So instead Lena kisses her, hoping the depth of her feelings comes across in the wordless gesture. “Can we go home?” Kara whispers against her lips. Lena, wanting more than anything to just have Kara hold her in their own bed, nods vigorously, and Kara wastes no time. She takes Lena by the hand and guides her through the crowd, waving apologetically at Winn when he yells from the bar to ask where they’re going. Alex, still at the table with Clark and Lois, rolls her eyes and waves them off good-naturedly – Maggie is still snoozing on her shoulder despite the loud music, and Alex kisses her on the forehead as Kara tips the attendant and gets Lena’s coat. The only people who don’t notice their exit are Jess and Lucy who seem to be in their own world, still caught up in a dance. The walk home is nothing like the one to the club. In fact, Lena hardly registers this one at all – it passes in a flash, and soon enough Kara is unlocking the door to their little apartment. Lena hangs up her jacket carefully on the hook next to the door, pulling the pins out of her hair and leaving them on the kitchen counter, and when she turns around Kara is standing in the middle of the room looking at her with such desperate adoration that Lena can’t stand another second of not touching her. “Come here,” Lena says quietly. Kara takes a step forward, and then in a rush Lena is pulled into an embrace so tight that it almost squeezes the air from her. Kara holds her with both arms wrapped fully around her upper body, as if she’s worried that she’ll disappear; like over the last year she’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop just as much as Lena has. Still thinking that maybe someday soon she’s going to wake up and realize this has all been a fantasy, and she’ll be back on a raft surrounded by death. And this time, everyone she loves won’t make it out alive. “I’m here,” Lena murmurs, her voice quivering. She buries her face in Kara’s neck, clinging to Kara’s shoulders. “This is what’s real. This.” Kara’s shoulders convulse. A sob, barely held back. One of her hands moves to grasp the back of Lena’s neck, grounding herself in skin-to-skin contact, and Lena tightens her own grip until Kara finally speaks. “Sometimes I still think it isn’t,” Kara whispers, a secret that Lena already knew whispered into her hair. Her breath shudders. “Sometimes –” “I know. Me, too.” With a sniffle Kara pulls back from the hug, looking down at Lena with wet eyes. Lena, wiping the tracks from Kara’s cheeks, kisses the tip of her nose and then the fullness of her mouth. It’s unhurried, slow and soft – Kara cups Lena’s face with gentle hands and Lena pushes the suspenders from Kara’s shoulders, sliding them down her arms one at a time until they hang loose from her waistband. In the days since that first passionate tryst on the Titanic, Kara has made love to her in countless ways. It’s been hard and soft, passionate and affectionate. But it’s never been this slow, this reverent or precious. Kara unlaces Lena’s dress like she’s handling spun glass, easing it from her shoulders and then her hips and tracing the revealed skin with hands that feel like they’re memorizing. When Lena turns to undress Kara in turn their kiss tastes like salt, and every button undone is a relief. She loses track of time after they’re both laid bare on the bed they bought together. It’s almost not lovemaking, what they’re doing – it’s more a physical expression of gratitude. Every kiss, every moment of Kara being inside her and every second of reciprocation is a reminder that they’re safe and alive. That this is more real than any nightmare. Any doubts of that, any lingering reminders of the disaster that brought them together or her mother’s disapproval or the world at large, fall away like unlocked shackles in the pre-dawn light. They finally give in to sleep in the early hours of the morning; and for the first time in a year, Lena’s rest is unbroken and completely dreamless.         It’s well past noon when Lena finally stirs. There’s a gentle sizzling sound coming from the direction of the stove, and she can hear Kara moving around the creaky floorboards and humming quietly.   “The neighbours down the hall had an old waffle-maker!” Kara exclaims, gesturing at the cast-iron contraption on the stove. It’s large and unwieldy-looking, but the smell filling the apartment is delicious. “They were just going to throw it out! Can you believe that?” “You talked to the neighbours?” Lena asks, stretching out in the sunlight. The quilt bunches around her middle, and Kara’s eyes are drawn down for a moment before she turns back to the food. “I had to run down to the market for fruit and cream. We’ve had a warm spring, so the strawberries are fresh,” Kara says excitedly. She grabs one of them from the counter and brings it to the bed, holding it up to Lena’s lips. Lena quirks a brow. “Does one put strawberries on waffles? I thought they were something like a bread.” Kara frowns. “Have you never had a waffle before?” “Breakfast in my mother’s house was usually fish, or eggs. Watercress. Oats, sometimes,” Lena says, taking the offered berry from Kara’s fingers. It’s sweet and delicious. “Scones. At finishing school there were buckwheat cakes, but never waffles.” “I thought rich people were supposed to get all the fun food?” Kara says, trailing her fingers playfully down between Lena’s breasts to her belly. She digs them into Lena’s side slightly and Lena giggles, squirming and batting them away. “Expensive, maybe. Not usually fun.” “Well, prepare for a new favourite breakfast.” The waffles are delicious. Kara promises to make them again, and Lena hardly has time to help with the washing-up before she has to throw on a clean dress and leave – she and Jess planned to have tea at 2, and with her lazy morning she still has to make it to Brooklyn in half an hour. She ends up being late anyways. She’s sweaty from running from tram to tram by the time she knocks on Jess’ door, winded from the climb up 3 flights of stairs, and it makes it all the more irritating when Jess doesn’t answer. “Jess!” Lena calls, banging harder and trying the handle. It’s locked, and Lena huffs. “Open up, we’re going to be late for our reservation. I know I’m late, so it’s my fault, but the tea-room will give away our table if -” Lena’s incessant knocking is interrupted by a door down the hall opening, and an unfamiliar face poking out of it. “You might want to try the next door over,” the strange woman drawls, stepping slightly into the hallway. She’s cupping a mug of something steaming, probably coffee, and while her tone is amused it’s in a long-suffering sort of way. “Miss Lane. I believe she’ll know where your friend is.” “Oh,” Lena says, dropping her fist abashedly. She must have been knocking very loudly for it to alert the whole floor. “Thank you. And – sorry?” The woman gives her a friendly wave, and disappears back into her apartment. When it shuts behind her Lena moves one down to Lucy’s door and gives it a much more controlled 3 knocks. It swings open before she can land the third. “Jess is busy,” Lucy says to Lena’s raised hand, hardly giving Lena time to absorb the fact that the shorter woman is wrapped only in a bedsheet. “I’ll pay for your missed reservation, and your bus fare. Here –” Lucy reaches behind the door, and Lena hears the jingle of change in a purse. When she reappears several coins are pressed into Lena’s palm, and the door starts to close before Lena knows what’s happening. Lena, stunned but starting to realize exactly what’s going on, darts her foot out to catch it before it latches. “Now hold on just a second,” Lena says drily, and Lucy groans from behind the door. Her irritation is delightful. “Are you telling me that after a year of dancing around each other, that –“ “I’m telling you nothing,” Lucy says, her eye pressed to the crack made by Lena’s foot. Her hair is dishevelled, and her eyes are full of murder. It’s delightful. “That now you two are finally together, and I have to wait to hear all about it?” Lena finishes, managing (barely) to keep the mischievous grin off her face. Jess and Lucy are probably going to be holed up together here for days, she knows – the moment she and Kara had their own space together, they hadn’t left for almost a week except for Kara to go to work – but she can’t resist teasing them about it. Specifically Lucy, the greatest teaser of the group. “That’s exactly right,” Lucy says. She pushes on the door with her shoulder, but Lena’s foot is immovable. “And how long were you going to wait to tell us about your romance?” Lena says, crossing her arms. She’s absolutely thrilled by the whole thing, really, and she does want to talk to Jess about it eventually – but right now, Lucy’s discomfort is much more fun. A delicious revenge for all the times Lucy took delight in interfering with Lena’s alone time with Kara over the months of their cohabitation. “We didn’t want to give you all the satisfaction of knowing you were right,” Lucy grumbles. “But we were right,” Lena says smugly. Lucy practically growls. “Lena, so help me god, I have a baseball bat for break-ins and I will use it -” “Oh, Lucy, just let her in,” Jess chimes in from somewhere inside the apartment. Lucy turns, aghast. “I am not letting her in!” “You caught her and Kara in the act all the time at Clark and Lois’,” Jess says reasonably, her voice moving closer until she sounds like she’s standing on the other side of the door. “Fair’s fair.” “Jess,” Lucy whines. Lena can hear Jess chuckle – a hand appears in Lena’s small field of vision through the crack in the door, and pats Lucy’s cheek consolingly. “Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute, okay?” Jess sounds, Lena thinks, more content than she’s ever sounded in all their years of knowing each other. Lucy sighs, but she’s smiling when she moves away from the door to be replaced by Lena’s best friend. The door opens a few more inches, and Jess leans on the doorjamb in Lucy’s dressing-gown. “You’ve sufficiently tortured my lover, now,” Jess says knowingly. Lena laughs, and pulls her into a hug. “Are you satisfied?” “I’m so happy for you, darling,” Lena whispers, kissing Jess’ cheek. “Send a note when you’re ready to leave the love-nest, and we’ll talk.” Lena leaves them to it, the lock clicking into place the moment the door closes, and she hums a vague version of the tune Kara was singing this morning as she heads back down the stairs. She fully intends on stopping at the post office on the way home – she’s happy to leave Jess and Lucy to their own devices until they’re ready to emerge and face the group, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to immediately tell everyone the good news. Lucy is probably going to kill her. But Lena knows, more than ever before, that everything is going to be okay.    

The world around you was dark due to the pink blindfold you wore. You squirm around in your kneeling position, doing your best to yet again get comfortable with the way you sat so that your legs could wake back up and hopefully not fall asleep this time. Your thighs and calves cry out to you, screaming from the minor burn from where the bare skin rubbed against some rope that kept you locked in place. The whole oredeal wasn't exactly the greatest, but you'd grown to keep an open mind to it. Your heart leaps into your throat from excitement when you hear the door open behind you. You let out a few whimpers and even a greet through the gag in your mouth as the clicking of his loafers begin echoing off the walls. Oliver stops beside you and you feel him place a hand atop your head, where he pats you in a cheerful manor. " 'ello Poppet!" He chirps "Did you miss me?" You move around a bit, nodding in reply as you adjust your position yet again. Your knees touch the metal floor beneath you as you sit upright, looking at what you believed was the direction of his face. You rub your head against his leg, feeling the material of his grey slacks brushing against your cheek as you try to push the blindfold up just enough so you could see him. Oliver giggles softly at your feeble efforts and steps away from you, walking around you and leaving you in the dark, quite literally. "You want to see me, don't you poppet?" He questions, his voice dropping an octave You shiver at the tone he took on, before nodding ecstatically in response. A muffled 'please' leaves your lips before you can stop it and Oliver stops in front of you, at least you think he does. He delivers a smack to your cheek, one that makes you gasp. "Don't tell me what to do, poppet." He tells you, darkly You whine, but the whining stops the second you feel his fingertips brushing against your [manhood/womanhood]. Shyly, you turn your head away, closing your legs on reflex. But you come to regret the action, letting out a cry of pain once he smacks both of your inner thighs, forcing you to spread them back apart. Oliver leans in close enough for you to feel his warm breath hits your lips, confirming that he was indeed in front of you. His hands return to teasing your privates, his fingers [rolling your nub between them/tracing shapes on your twitching member]. You let out a soft moan in response, and try to lean closer against him, but it seems he just disappears once more. "Oh poppet," He sighs playfully "You're so lewd, liking how I touch you like this. Just look at you, you're drooling all over yourself." His fingers brush against your chest, taking a bit of the wet drool that dripped from your open mouth with them. And on that note, he begins touching you again, fully touching you. Your body quivers in response as he works at the speed of light. You honestly try to warn him of what was approaching, but the gag made it rather difficult. "Such a noisy thing." He coos "But, not noisy enough, I'm afraid. Let's fix that, shall we?" Oliver continues, going harder and faster with what feels like his each movement. You buck against his hand, feeling as his other hand reaches up, unhooking the gag. It falls from your mouth just in time for you to let out a loud cry upon feeling your release. "Messy little thing," He comments "Yes that's what you are." You whine in response as his hands recoil from you as you practically beg him to continue. But Oliver just smacks you once again. "You're lucky I haven't set any rules yet, poppet." He tells you You hear a small popping noise, one that could only be described as fingers being pulled out of one's mouth. Suddenly, you feel his thumbs on either side of your face. Lights greets your eyes as the blindfold it slid up and pulled off your head. You wince at the sudden light pouring in, but nevertheless watch with your heart pounding against your rib cage as your eyes met his. You wait patiently for your eyes to adjust, and once they do, you're greeted by Oliver, who shoots you an almost seductive grin. He reaches up to you, two fingers hooking themselves into the loop of your black slave collar you wore around your neck. "Now then, let's really begin," Oliver suggests "Shall we?" You shake your head no and he scowls at this. He didn't like when his poppet was disobedient. Oliver crawls up to you, lifting you up by your hips as he slipped underneath you. He sets you down on his lap, and you can't help but blush at the close proximity. "Don't get me dirty, poppet." He commands However, you don't get to spend much of your time gawking at the british country, when he brings a hand down to your exposed ass. The action prompts loud smack and a yelp from you. "Now then," He begins "Call me sir, poppet." "Yes sir." You say "Good." He smiles Oliver taps his chin thoughtfully with the hand that wasn't keeping you balanced on his lap. His his purple eyes wander around the ceiling and you just watch him curiously as he wonders things aloud. "What shall I do with you today?" He ponders "I'm afraid I'm a bit to tired to change out your ropes today." You blush lightly and look away nervously as his piercing purple eyes roamed your body. Oliver suddenly lifted you off of his lap and stood up. He dusts himself off before walking over to the left wall, where he grabs something off of it. Your attention snaps forward so you can face him when he drops a few things in front of you. "Why don't we play a game?" He offers "What kind of game, sir?" You question He stands in front of you with a riding crop in his hand and an evil smirk across his face. "It's called silence. You're not aloud to make a single noise no matter what." Oliver explains Your eyes widen as he brings it down onto your chest, earning himself a pained noise you weren't able to put a name to. Oliver giggles into his hand in an excited manor. "Okay poppet," He says "It starts now." Oliver pushes you onto your back with his foot and you lie there for a moment. He walks over to your left, picking up the blindfold from where it laid. He turns back to you, putting it back over your eyes. You let out a yelp once Oliver bring the whip across your chest. On impulse, you block the blow with your legs after it strikes. Then, he brings it down onto your ass, where your feet go to cover it. But he hits your chest yet again, and it goes in a random order, him striking you over and over. Eventually, when he was satisfied with that, he flipped you over and started on your back and feet. You lied there, taking it like a champion. Blood dripped off of your lip due to how hard you were biting and chewing it. Oliver suddenly yawned in a bored manor, before kneeling down once more beside you. He flips you over onto your back. You just quietly pant and gulp down air as if you'd been choking, as silent tears roll down your cheeks and your body shook. Oliver had never understood how you could take hits like that. Nor why you loved pain so much, but he didn't complain, for he absolutely loved dishing it out. Oliver reached down, his hand slipping between your legs so he could rub rubbing your hole for a moment. But just like that, his touch was gone. But that was before the air was filled with the sound of light buzzing. Oh God no. Not that. Anything but that. Oliver pressed the vibrating wand to your most sensitive spot and sat there, no doubt watching your body begin to tremble as he teased you with it. He once again began poking at your entrance with his other hand, proudly using your previous orgasm as lubricant to make his game easier. He slipped a finger or two inside of you, and you finally let out a loud cry. "Oliver!" You moan aloud "Aww, poppet!" Oliver mock pouts "You lost the game! How sad." Oliver goes at it faster, pressing the wand against your bundle of nerves, throwing your head from side to side wildly enough to bring the blindfold off just enough. You watch as Oliver licks his lips, clearly eating up your reactions. "Oh fuck!" You cry "You wanna cum yet, poppet?" Oliver questions "Yes! Oh god yes! Please Sir!" "You sure, poppet?" He asks "Alrighty then, poppet." He chirps "Cum for me." Oliver suddenly shuts off the wand and moves it away just in time for you to hit your high and be denied the perfect orgasm at the same time. You let out a loud scream of his name as your release fires out of you like a cannon. "Good, poppet." Oliver grins "You did good." After calming down just a bit, you lie there, panting and shaking. On occasion one of your limbs would spasm. "Th-Thank you.. Sir.." You thank "Good [girl/boy]." Oliver tells you Oliver returns to his cheerful demeanor. He pulls you up off the ground and sits you back up, scooting behind you so he can undo your restraints. "You reek of sin, poppet." He mentions "Let's get you a bath." You rub your wrists once they're released from the harsh rope, whilst Oliver gets to work on the ones on your legs. You felt too weak to stand, so he just sweeped you off your feet, opting to carry you. "Thank you, Ollie" You smile sweetly "Of course poppet." He tells you "Only the best for my cupcake!"

"Can I pick out your outfit for today, George?" George narrowed his eyes in suspicion, wary of Dream's intentions, no matter how innocent they appeared. He always had something up his sleeve. Sometimes literally. "Oh no. What do you have?" Dream peeked out of the closet, his face free of any mischief, looking like he had never done a single thing wrong in his entire life. That meant something was definitely up. "I just happened to pick up a little thing or two for you to wear," Dream replied vaguely, "Just thought you would look nice in it, is all." George let his guard down slightly, maybe he should give Dream a little more credit. "Alright. Let me see what you got." Dream grinned wide as he pulled out what he'd been hiding in his hands, George kicking himself for ever giving the other the benefit of the doubt when he saw the article of clothing. It was literally a maid dress. "Why didn't I know better than to expect this?" Dream smiled, "Oh, come on, I did say you were going to be my little maid when you moved in. Now's the time, you better get to work cleaning." George rolled his eyes, leaning up on the side of the bed, "And, what, exactly, am I going to be cleaning, Dream?" "My dick." "Ugh," George replied in distaste, "Please word that differently." "Okay," Dream conceded, knowing it sounded way worse putting it like that, "Let's just say I got all dirty and it's your job to clean me all up." George sighed, "I guess that's slightly better. Also, when did you get into this? What have you been reading lately?" Dream looked to the side, "Oh, you know, just a light online novel." "Sometimes I see ones that I'm convinced you wrote yourself," George breathed out in reply. "And, you're scolding me for my reading habits. For shame, George, I know for a fact your history is worse than mine." George dismissed that, quickly changing the subject, "Let's not get off track here, and let's get you into that maid dress." Dream approached closer, a wicked grin on his face. "Uh uh, no tricking me today, George. This was custom made for you." The dress was thrusted into his lap, George picking it up and looking over the item in trepidation. There were so many layers and lace to this thing, he almost didn't know if he could put it on. As the other was silent for a moment, Dream spoke up. "Only if you want to." George stood up on slightly shaky legs. "Yeah, it's okay, I'll, uh, go change," he said, quickly grabbing the dress from Dream and heading for the bathroom. He was in a hurry, not even remembering if he closed the door or not as he tossed his clothes on the floor. He pulled the dress over his head, watching it settle down over him. George smoothed out the skirt, the frills making it puff out pretty widely. He couldn't help but glance at himself in the mirror, his face going pink at the fact that he was actually wearing a maid dress. George swallowed, too late to turn back now he decided, turning slowly to their bedroom. He was promptly stopped by Dream standing right there in the doorway, watching him. George took a surprised step backward, causing Dream to immediately close the distance between them. Dream ran his hands over the fabric. It was very lacy and tight. The skirt was also extremely short, barely covering George. He grinned, lifting up the dress to look underneath. George pressed his hands against his lap, wanting to keep his modesty at least. "It's even better than I thought, George," Dream murmured, leading the other back into the room and pushing him back so he fell onto the bed. Before George could even respond, Dream was on top of him, slotting them as close as possible, threading one hand into George's hair and one on the small of his back, pushing him up to press them closer. Dream locked them in a heated kiss, sliding his tongue in George's mouth, the other's arms wrapped  around his neck, pulling him down, responding with excitement. Dream reached his hand up under George's maid dress, quickly pulling off his underwear. George's breath was heavy and ragged when Dream disconnected their lips, pressing two fingers into the other's mouth. George wet them quickly as Dream watched. When he was done, he kept the fingers inside. He slowly pushed them back until George made a choked sound. Before George could bite him in retaliation, Dream removed his fingers, ignoring the other's annoyed look. He brought his hand back down, pressing them inside George to prep him. "Seems like you're already prepared here, George. Why is that?" Dream murmured with a knowing grin. "It had just been a while, okay?" George defended for the second time, face flushed, "Have you ever heard of knocking, by the way?" "Look at you, so flustered because you were caught masturbating," Dream teased, "Also, and, I can't emphasize this enough, the door was open. Though, I don't know why you didn't just ask me to have sex with you, George. Wouldn't that have been simpler?" "I don't know, maybe you had just made a pact of celibacy, I didn't want to tempt you into breaking that." Dream shook his head softly. "Hm, I think you were planning all along for me to walk in on you. So naughty, George." "I just wanted to get off in peace without you bothering me for once." Dream pouted, slamming his finger harshly up into George, making him choke. "Oh, no need to be so bitter. But, if that's how you feel, we can stop right here, right now." "No!" George panted as Dream stopped his movements, desperate to keep going, dick straining against the fabric around him, "Please." "Please what?" George huffed, whimpering as Dream roughly thrusted into his prostate, crumbling to give what the other wanted. "Please fuck me." Dream smiled, so pleased, so content. "Whatever you wish, George." He continued, drawing it out to tease, leaning down to capture the other into a kiss. George bit Dream's lip, a little harshly because of how the other was toying with him. Dream could only grin against the whines that George was pouring into his mouth, so eager to move on, just how he wanted the other to be. When it felt sufficient, Dream took out his fingers and replaced them with his lubed up dick. He grabbed the other's hips and slid inside of him, George taking it so easily. When he bottomed out, Dream placed both of the other's legs up over his shoulders, driving in slightly deeper. George gasped, bent as far as he could possibly go. Dream pulled out slowly, not able to see where he was inside George as it was covered by the dress. He slammed back into the other, making him jerk and grasp the sheets at the rough way he was being fucked. Dream started pounding into him, the fabric from the skirt swishing at every thrust. Dream watched transfixed as the dress bounced up and down, exposing George every so often with the movements. Dream leaned down to kiss the other, making him groan in protest at both how squished his legs were and how deep Dream was pressed inside him with this position. He resumed his harsh thrusts into George, enjoying all the noises he elicited from the other. He pushed the skirt up, making the other hold it out of the way as he jerked him off. Dream's gaze was locked on George as he came, watching as he spilled all over his own hand. He slammed in again and again until the other cried with the overstimulation, pressing deep as he finished inside the other. George pressed his palm against Dream's chest, trying to push him off, his knees now all the way against his chest. Dream got off, letting the other finally be able to breathe again. "What about my threat about putting you in a maid outfit? What happened to that?" Dream shrugged as he removed himself from the other. "This was dragging out too long, I dunno. Another lost plot point." George frowned, "Can I least have it implied?" "Oh, why, of course, George," Dream murmured, "How about we say you bent me over a table and fucked me from behind." "Hm, I do like the sound of that. Then, afterwards I make you lick your cum off the table." Dream's eyebrows shot up at that statement. "Wow, getting real kinky there, George. Unexpected, but, I can't say I'm not into it." "That was a test," George sighed, sitting up on the bed, "And, you failed." "Okay," Dream countered, "I was just going along with the theme, since I'm supposed to be cleaning and all." "Sure, sure. I believe you, Dream," George said, completely sarcastic and not believing in that defense in the slightest. "You're the one who employs me, I have to do what you say. I don't want to get fired here, now, do I?" George rolled his eyes. "I hate to say that's a good point, but.. still, you're down bad, Dream." "Oh," Dream breathed, a smile over his lips as he leaned into the other, "We already knew that a long time ago." This was true. We did. -

The room is the usual controlled chaos caused by a large group of sweaty man moving around in a confined place trying to do everything they want to do during the intermission either in line with their own superstitions or as quickly as possible. Justin slides into his stall and tries to make himself small and out of the way. He looks across the room and sees Flower talking to Murrs. “Flower thinks you should have done more on the Rangers’ goal,” he says to the d-men. “But he did approve of the way Dumo wrapped up Kreider on the PK.” Justin is gratified by the response. Tanger’s head whips around towards Justin at that, probably driven by the force of his eye roll; the tips of Dumo‘s ears turn pink. “Fucking goalies, expect us to do everything for them,” grumbles Colesy to a chorus of agreement from the rest of the defence. “It’s Flower, we know what he’s like. Even when we do do everything for him, he’ll comment on how he’d have done it better,” Tanger says with both resignation and fondness. “I mean basically he just likes to comment on everyone else, all the time.” More agreement is interrupted by Sully entering the room. “Listen up!” he says holding up a hand for quiet. “Listen up!” By the time he’s half way through it for the second time the room has quietened, only Tommy continuing talking, before an elbow from Shears stutters him to a stop. “Sorry,” he mutters to the room. Sully nods acknowledgement. “What you did out there was good. We’re in the game. But you can do so much more and you know it and I know it. So we’re going to step it up. This is our chance to put them away, to finish this round. We’re going to go out there and play our hockey and have fun as we take the Rangers out of this. We know we can beat them and they know it but they’re a proud team so they won’t go down without a fight and boy, are we going to show them that if they want a fight, we’ll be ready for them.” He starts going into the game, picking up what they need to do more of and less of; the team is listening intently, caught and held by his bold statement at the start. He finishes with “Ok, let’s get this done. Give them no room, don’t let them breathe, play hard and play our game. It’s going to be a lot of fun to get this done at home!” and the room erupts in cheers and whoops, players psyching themselves up again for the next period. 0--0--0 Play has already started by the time Justin slides into the press box with the other players and already the Pens have the puck in the Rangers end and are pressing hard. But the Rangers clear and the Pens are sprinting back in retreat. No team is really able to get an advantage with the puck going end to end. “I’m going to give myself a set back with how often my head is swivelling in this game,” Flower says with a look of disgust. “Maybe next time, I don’t know, try hitting them as they leave the zone?” Duper gives him a sour look. “Schultzy, why don’t you try hitting them as they leave the zone if you’re going back in defence?” Why has Duper just pulled him into this? But this is pretty basic stuff. “Because if we get it wrong or mis-time it, it’s too easy for their forwards to get a breakaway as they’ve got the speed advantage in the other direction,” and then he just can’t help himself. “And then our goalies shout at us because they want the defence to do more.” To his surprise, Flower gives a surprised laugh. “When I first met you you were so quiet and respectful. I see you’re coming out of your shell! A couple of weeks without me around and you’re treating me like any other team mate!” “Flower, you are like any other team mate,” replies Beau, but he’s grinning too. “I shall speak to Tanger about the lack of respect!” “He’ll probably congratulate Schultzy,” says Duper dryly. Flower laughs again, but suddenly Geno’s sharking across the zone, making a pass to Fehrsie that Lundqvist has to pad wide. “Ahhhh nice one Geno! Do it again!” calls Flower. “See he heard me!” as Geno’s line keeps pressing the attack. The Rangers get it out and the Pens go for a line change, Sid’s line taking the ice. Shears picks up a loose puck driving deep into the corner but support is slow to arrive and he’s surrounded by three larger Rangers bodies and it doesn’t look like he has an out. Suddenly he’s emerging unexpectedly with the puck, as one of the Rangers trips in the puck battle and Shears swipes the puck away from them, escapes off the wall and gets the puck to Dales to keep the cycle going. “Shears!” exclaims Flower. “You little beauty, I have no idea how you got out of that! So much grit and determination.” They’re on their feet soon after as Lundqvist has to make a desperate, diving save on Dales, who’d pushed up to the half wall as they pressed. The puck stays loose for a moment, Lundqvist sprawled across the crease, Sid and Shears digging for it but the refs blow it dead. “Heh, he didn’t have such an elegant, perfect form there. Keep putting the pressure on him, he’s gonna crack.” Justin settles down, feeling his heart rate settle again and watches the next couple of minutes where the Rangers manage to get some relief from Sid’s line when Cully’s line takes to the ice to replace it. Play continues and suddenly it’s the 4th line again, scrambling and harassing in the Rangers end, when Dales fakes a shot then floats a pass to Rusty, standing unregarded by the back post who slams it into the empty net gaping at him, Lundqvist’s despairing lunge just too late. “RUSTY!” exclaims Flower and the rest of the Pens are cheering as the goal horn blares and the arena is just as loud, a sea of gold as the fans celebrate. The Pens come out after the goal, renewed and invigorated. If they were fast before, you can almost see the steam rising from the ice as they skate. They appear to have more than the five allowed on the ice, as every time a Rangers player goes after the puck, there’s a Penguin there on top of them, giving them no time, no space. Justin, watching, cannot believe he could ever be seen as part of this, playing like that. It’s like a whole different level of hockey. Mere mortals like him should not aspire to this. He watches Olli gliding into the zone, head up, skating confidently and with purpose. Sid is signalling for the puck as he battles in the crease, but the Rangers are blocking the pass so Olli gains speed, hoping that Lundqvist will be more focussed on Sid and trying for the wraparound stuff attempt. It’s so close! Lundqvist slams his pad down desperately a fraction of a second before Olli gets his shot off and then Sid’s battling for the rebound but somehow Lundqvist gathers it up, and the play is blown dead, Olli returning to the blue line, shaking his head. “Good try, Olli!” Flower says. “Keeping Lundqvist on his toes, don’t let him settle. Just keep attacking like that, never knowing who or where the next one is coming from. Wear him out!” He catches Justin looking over at him. “What?” “Shouldn’t you feel more sympathy towards Lundqvist? He’s a goalie too. That could be you out there.” Flower shakes his head. “Well, he’s an asshole. Loves to be the perfect goalie. Seeing him flustered and shook up and doubting is a great look and I’m going to enjoy every minute. Afterall, I’ve been there too and he was at the other end, looking oh so smug so he’s brought this on himself.” “But also, they’re our team, my team. Of course I want to see them win, never mind my past history with Lundqvist. The only thing that would be better is if I’m the one out there, doing this to him. It’s great for Murrs but… ” He shrugs slightly, staring down at the ice, lips twisted a little. “I guess, when you put it like that…” He smiles at Flower, understanding some of the rivalry between the two opposing goalies. He saw Flower in the game where Lundqvist flipped the net and how both goalies reacted to that, and starts to understand these guys have faced off against each other too many times; they have a long bitter history with each other, battling for supremacy. It must kill Flower to be sitting this one out, when they are ripping Lundqvist and his team apart and Flower isn’t the one standing tall for his team. They turn their attention back to the game where the Pens are still everywhere, at once. The Rangers manage to penetrate the Pens defensive zone once, sending the puck wide of the net, before the Pens whisk it back up ice again. “That’ll make sure Murrs is awake,” mutters Sonny. “They have managed two shots in nine minutes! It’s not like he’s had absolutely nothing to do” replies Beau. There are grins about that - it speaks to how much the Pens have just dominated this period. Rusty goes close again, but Lundqvist makes a pad save, sending it up ice to where the Rangers break out. But the Pens are first back to Zuccarello’s dump in, sending it immediately back into the Rangers zone again, where the Rangers top line are having to swing from offence to defence once again. Rusty is first in on the forecheck, forcing the puck away from the Rangers’ defence - where it is left it sitting alone and stationary in the slot for Cully as Rusty’s trailer. He doesn’t waste the opportunity gifted to him on a platter when he beats Lundqvist over the glove to put the Pens two goals up. “Cully, you beauty!” “Sacre, our fourth line just shredded their top line!” “Suck it, Lundqvist!” The Pens’ reactions from the press box are very indicative of who they are as people - Justin, Beau and Sonny watching the game. Duper, aware of the bigger picture. Flower, enjoying Lundqvist’s discomfiture too much. But they’re two goals up and looking at the Rangers, they’re starting to deflate. They know the Pens are running away with this. “Still a long way to go,” mutters Duper. “Anything can happen. It’s not over until the final buzzer sounds. A two goal lead is the worst lead in hockey.” “We’ve got to get pucks deep and go hard to the net. Finish our checks! It’s a team game and we’ve got to play as a team and simplify it,” Beau is laughing. “Duper that was just cliche!” “It may be cliche, but it’s true,” replies Duper. “We’ve still got half the game to play.” The crowd are loud now as play restarts, chanting “Henrik’ mockingly. Flower looks around the arena with a smile on his face, looking approving but saying nothing. It doesn’t seem long when the refs are whistling for a penalty behind the play. Tanger is skating away with a rather too smug look on his face. “What did he do?” Duper asks. It’s announced as a roughing call on Moore - somehow Tanger has escaped penalty, leaving the Pens on a power play. “Nice!” says Flower approvingly when the battle between Moore and Tanger is replayed on the Jumbotron. The Pens come close on the power play but can’t get it past Lundqvist. But in the process, the Pens and the Rangers are starting to get more physical - or at least the Rangers are and Tanger is giving it right back, battle grin on his face as he exchanges words with Marc Staal after a slash to his hands. “Don’t do anything stupid, Tanger,” warns Flower. “He won’t!” reassures Justin, driven to defend his fellow d-man. Both Duper and Flower look at him incredulously but they leave it, which Justin is relieved about. It’s entirely possible Tanger will do something stupid in this mood. But he’s not going to admit that to anyone who isn’t a defenceman. The on ice temperature cools a little however as the next few shifts are more routine. “So, Schultzy,” Flower says. “You still owe me the tale of what happened in Prague.” Schultzy takes a mouthful of coffee to buy himself some time, hoping something will happen of interest on the ice to distract Flower. Nothing does. “Do I?” he asks. “Now’s not a good time. Sully said I’d to watch the game so I could pick out some of the defensive points he wants me to work on.” “I’m sure you can talk and watch at the same time,” Flower replies. “It can’t be that hard!” “I know you talk all the time when you’re playing but I can’t do that. I need to focus,” Justin replies. There’s a huff of laughter from Duper at that, but Justin is concentrating on looking as innocent as he can possibly manage, while never moving his eyes off the ice in front of him. Fortunately for Justin, Shears is whistled for catching Lundqvist’s neck with his stick and that catches the group’s attention. “Harass him, don’t murder him Shears,” mutters Flower regretfully. “That’s going a little bit too far. Also, Shears looks worried in the box. He needs to work on his ‘I am innocent but fully convinced my team will stop all the pucks during this entirely unnecessary power play” face. Duper, make sure he practices that.” Duper just rolls his eyes at that command as the PKers get to work. Almost immediately there’s a scramble for a loose puck in the crease, Murrs battling to try and get it covered, but it comes loose and then is safely cleared by the Penguins. “Oh that’s my boy, Murrs! Don’t let the assholes push you around!” But although he’s called on to make one more save, the Pens make it easy for him, killing a lot of time in the Rangers end and even going corner to corner at one point as the clock runs down. Shears rejoins the game and soon after, Sid gathers up a loose puck and takes off with it into the Rangers zone, battling past Marc Staal to do so. Tanger and Shears are up in support and Sid lays it into Shears’ path, where he takes it in stride to skate in and zip it past Lundqvist, top shelf. “SHEARS!” Justin manages to still his initial impulse to jump to his feet but only just; it’s a blast of a shot and to do that on getting out of the penalty box is a great play by the rookie, putting the penalty firmly behind him. He’s immediately enveloped by Colesy and Tanger, Sid and Horny joining them before he breaks free to skate over to the Pens bench, face glowing. It’s 5-2 Pittsburgh and it feels like the Rangers are deep into the abyss. Flower is watching the Rangers’ bench with interest. “Go on, pull him,” he’s muttering. But despite Flower’s encouragement, Lundqvist stays on in net. The crowd are loud now, as loud as Justin’s heard them, cheering anything and everything the Pens do. Even when the Pens ice it, it just gives the crowd more of a chance to cheer and shout for their team. The stadium announcer has just started to announce the one minute to play mark when Geno poke checks the puck free from the Rangers defender on the boards in neutral ice and he’s shooting up ice, accelerating quickly as he pushes the puck ahead of him. Rusty puts his head down and skates hard, getting up to create a 2 on 1 opportunity. Geno’s staring down Lundqvist - and then saucers a short pass over the defender’s stick, and Rusty roofs it over Lundqvist’s hand. In the box, no-one moves for an instant. Justin can’t believe what he’s just seen, afraid to move in case he’s mistaken. Then Flower leaps to his feet, gesticulating down at the ice. “MY BEAUTIFUL RUSTY! GENO! FUCK YOU HENRIK!” Duper pulls him back down, dragging him back into his seat, hand over his mouth to stop him screaming any more abuse at Lundqvist. Eventually Flower quietens and stops squirming to escape Duper’s grip. Although the way Duper’s wiping his hand as he removes it from Flower’s mouth, Justin would guess Flower had licked it. “You cannot do this, Flower,” he says firmly in the most daddest voice Justin’s ever heard from him. “You’re meant to be concussed remember? You were allowed here on the basis you wouldn’t do anything to set back your recovery. And we can’t do this here - too many eyes.” Flower looks somewhat chastened but there’s still a mutinous look in his eyes. But he nods his head complacently. “Ok, we’re good, I’m sorry, I got carried away. You know that’s the dagger. Lundqvist can’t survive this!” “Maybe,” says Duper cautiously, but he also sounds hopeful. “But there’s still a period to play.” “Four goals in a period when they’re facing elimination. They’re fucking done,” argues Flower. “They need a miracle!” “They’ve pulled out miracles before,” Duper replies darkly. “I’m going to think we’ve won only when the buzzer sounds for the end of the game.” The buzzer sounds for the end of the period as he says that and they leave the box to make their way back down to ice level. 0--0--0 The room is buzzing. The mongooses are loud and elated and Justin goes straight over to congratulate them. Rusty’s face is flushed and he’s trying not to look too happy, like he’s been here before, but his mask keeps slipping and his pure happiness is leaking out. “They can’t ask who the fuck you are anymore!” Justin leans in for a fist bump, first with Rusty and then with the rest of the mongooses. “That looked amazing from up there!” “Thanks man, just happy to be able to contribute! Geno gave me the sweetest pass on the second.” “Practising for the presser later?” Justin can’t help teasing. “It’s just me, you know. And if I did something like that in the playoffs - in a game where we could win the round no less - I’d be shouting about it. They were both great plays.” “We haven’t won yet!” Rusty replies, but his ears are slightly pink now. “Time for it later, if we do.” Shears nods agreement. “Good!” replies Justin and heads over to the defence. While they are not as loud as the mongooses, there’s a certain satisfaction emanating from them as they go about intermission tasks. “Great job boys!” he says by way of greeting. “That looked awesome from the box.” Rev grins at him. “It was pretty awesome on the ice too.” “Is Flower any happier?” Tanger asks. “Ecstatic at the way you’ve destroyed Lundqvist,” Justin replies. “Seriously, Duper had to hold him down after Rusty’s last goal.” Tanger grins at the mental image that must conjure. “Well, I’m glad he’s having fun too.” He turns away to grab one of the equipment staff, pulling at his shoulder pads as he does so. Justin settles beside Olli. “He also remembered about Prague and the fact he thinks I know something about what Sid did there.” He pulls a face. “I hadn’t.” “Oh shit, what happened?” asks Olli. His brows are pulled in concern. “I told him I had to concentrate on the game, that Coach had told me to watch out for stuff and then you guys scored lots of goals, so I was off the hook.” “That was quick thinking!” Olli looks approving. “If we go out after though.. That could be a problem.” Justin nods. “At least I have some time to come up with something. I’m starting to think he’ll never give up though.” “Flower? Give up? About gossip? You don’t know him that well if you thought that.” “Shit.” 0--0--0 Back in the press box, things seem a little bit calmer. If nothing else, looking at the score of 6-2 high over the ice is very calming - although in a way which also leave Justin buzzing somewhere under his breastbone. They are so close to the next round. He just wants this period to be safely over, no injuries and the Pens to keep on dominating. “Yesssssssssss!” Flower exults and Justin looks where he’s looking to see Lundqvist at the bench, baseball cap on. Raanta is in the net; Henrik has been chased. “We’ve got this now.” Flower is calmly certain; Justin wishes he could feel like that. He’s still nervous, wanting the period over. But it’s the Rangers who get a power play in the third, with about five minutes played, when Phil is sent to the box for tripping. It’s only when they announce it though, they realise that it was actually Murrs’ penalty that Phil is serving. “Oh Matty!” mutters Flower, with an impressive eye roll. “But reminds the Rangers you are a hockey player too and not to be taken lightly. It shouldn’t have been a penalty though; the Ranger should not have got that close.” “So no goalie can ever commit a tripping penalty?” Beau asks. “Maybe behind the net, but not in the crease. That paint is ours and they shouldn’t be in it!” Justin’s grinning at Flower’s idiosyncratic view of the rink; he’s not averse to it but he thinks the forwards might object. Then the Rangers score, the puck deflecting in off Kreider’s stick so Murrs has no chance. There’s a serious of groans and mumbles from the players watching. “Poor Murrs. He just couldn’t do anything, they should not have allowed Kreider so close!” Justin catches a glare from Flower as though he is personally to blame for the defence not clearing the crease. Watching on replay though Kreider wasn’t even that close to the crease and he was shadowed by Letang - it was a good play from the Rangers. “Keep it together now boys,” Duper mutters. “We’re still three goals ahead, just shut it down now.” The Rangers continue to push, but everytime they get a shot through, Murrs is there, coralling the puck away from the net, drawing an approving comment every time from Flower. The Pens are not turtling though, taking every chance they can. Hags and Phil get a 2 on 1 break but Girardi breaks up the cross-crease pass “Wow, Girardi can defend afterall!” exclaims Duper. “I think he tripped and went down accidentally,” Justin mutters to a shout of laughter from the other Pens. He feels a bit bad; he’s not a good defence man either, but this is his team and he’s allowed to mock their opponents. Besides, at least he can skate. The Pens start to get more traction, absorbing the Rangers’ pressure and desperation and counter-punching. It starts with Sid’s line, because it always does but soon the other lines are also pushing back into the Rangers’ end, testing Raanta. But there’s under ten minutes to play and the Pens are still up by three goals. “If only the Rangers had defended like this in the second,” Beau says, as he watches Rusty speeding up the left wing, only to have the puck poke checked away by a desperate diving defence man just as it seems certain he’s on a breakaway. “I’m just as happy they didn’t,” says Sonny drily, as the puck goes the other way, into the Pens end, but they turn around the Rangers attack, Murrs strong at the top of his crease and backued up by his defence circling around him and clearing up the rebounds safely, more seconds ticking down. The Rangers go close again, the puck trickling outside the post, swiped away by a desperate Pens stick. The Rangers have put so many shots on goal in this period, yet the Pens are somehow withstanding it, staying calm, getting the puck out again and again. There’s less than five minutes to play and the excitement is rising in the box. Finally the Rangers are running out of desperation and the Pens tighten down further, keeping shifts short and keeping things simple. Two minutes to go. “When are we safe?” asks Sonny anxiously. “When the buzzer sounds,” replies Duper. “But yeah, it would be possible for them to score 3 goals in 2 minutes, but they’d need a lot of luck - and to pull their goalie.” Like one, their heads swivel and Raanta is still in net. He’s looking towards the bench, but they’re not even looking at him. The Rangers are not pulling their goalie. They have nothing more to give. The Pens are going to win this. As the crowd notice and the time ticks down, they start to cheer, standing up all over the arena and waving their towels. Justin can feel the hair on the back of his neck rising as he hears what it’s like to hear a Pittsburgh crowd celebrating their team winning a playoff series. The seconds count down and the buzzer sounds. It’s official. The Penguins have defeated the Rangers and are through to the second round. “Fuck Lundqvist,” mutters Flower, emphatically even as he’s on his feet and moving towards the exit down to the locker room. On the ice, Dales is hugging Murrs exuberantly and Justin wonders what it must feel like to actually be out there, to be on ice and experiencing that. Even up here, as a spectator, it feels pretty damn sweet.

It was a fluke. That was how Lance read into it, at first. Just… a fluke. No big deal. Nothing to worry his teammates about. Everyone had enough on their plates already; he could handle this on his own. Besides! It was all good things anyway, right? Just signs of Blue being friendly. Just a sign of how close their bond was. Lance didn’t need to bother anyone with the fact that he could feel the phantom sensation of a core of ice in his chest when he meditated in Blue’s cockpit. He didn’t need to bother anyone with the fact that he wasn’t bothered by the cold or the snow or wind or hail when they visited an ice planet. He definitely didn’t need to bother anyone with the fact that he could take showers in a wider range of temperatures than he used to. That information was both private and weird. If a mission came up where Lance’s newfound immunity to the cold could come in handy, he’d bring it up, but until then, nobody needed the distraction. Someone on the science team would try to figure out how and why it was happening, and they had enough to do. Searching for Shiro, for the Holts, for information on what the Galra Empire was up to? That all took precedence over the fact that Lance could no longer get brain freeze. It was just… Blue was nice. Blue was nice and friendly and liked him, and he liked her right back, and after the scare with Shiro, all the lions were acting a little nervous about their paladins. Blue was just giving his body a bit of a boost, making sure he was hardier than people expected so that he didn’t get taken away somehow. The other lions were probably doing something similar for their paladins too, right? Blue was just giving him an extra fighting chance. Then things went a step further. o.o.o.o.o Lance woke up to his alarm clock going off near his head, a sign that nothing had gone wrong in the night and that there were no pressing matters to attend to. He could get up and get ready at his own speed, so long as he was down in time to grab breakfast and eat before training started. He yawned as he reached out with one hand to press down on the snooze button, planning on getting a bit more sleep. His first clue was that his pillow felt grainy and sharp against his skin as he moved. His second clue was that his nightstand, when he groped blindly across its surface, felt even worse. His third clue was that the button on his alarm clock felt like it was scraping against something as he pushed it down. Lance pulled his arm back in under the covers and snuggled in, enjoying the chance to sleep in a little further. Unfortunately, his brain had latched onto the details that did not fit, and while his instincts weren’t telling him he was in immediate danger, the unease grew enough to push him to wakefulness. He opened his eyes and sucked in a breath. His room was covered in frost. Lance took a slow, shallow breath, and… clapped a hand over his mouth to smother the scream that hadn’t quite managed to work its way out of his throat yet. Okay. Okay, so this was. Okay. Right. He could deal with this like a real adult. Like he knew what he was doing. Like a paladin. “I am so screwed,” he whispered as he finally dropped his hand. He threw off his blankets and stood carefully, turning on the spot to assess the damage. Luckily, nothing in the room was the sort of thing that could be hurt by a little cold or water. Altean fabrics and materials weren’t going to be damaged, and he hadn’t borrowed Pidge’s headphones last night. Did I do this? Lance asked himself, dragging a hand across the walls. Maybe the castle had just made it to a weird planet that had damaged the ambient temperature controls or whatever, and the entire castle was like this. He doubted it, but… Lance carefully padded over to the door, hoping that no one was outside. The keypad was just as icy as the rest of the room, but he managed to get the film of frozen water off with a little rubbing with his bathrobe sleeve. When he opened the door, it was to an utterly normal hallway. Yellow lights, empty, and utterly lacking in frost. Lance stuck a hand out, just to check. The air outside of his room was significantly warmer than the air inside, and while he didn’t really get uncomfortable in the cold anymore, it was still noticeable. He pulled his hand back in and closed the door before anyone could notice. He trudged back to his bed and sat heavily, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands, and his elbows on his knees. Okay, so. Either something in the castle had gone wrong and caused an isolated temperature drop in Lance’s room, or Lance himself had done something. …it was always possible that someone had deliberately made the temperature go down in his room, but ‘there is now ice’ was generally not a safe room temperature for humans, and Allura knew what the safe range was by now, on the average, and didn’t know about Lance’s recent weirdness from Blue. She wouldn’t risk his health just to make him get up from bed earlier, and Pidge wouldn’t do it for a prank or something either. Either malfunction or Lance. “No pressure,” Lance muttered to himself, holding one hand up in front of himself and focusing on the skin of his palm. Maybe if he just… concentrated really hard? Would there be light? Or snow? Or… or maybe all the moisture in the air had already disappeared into the existing frost and there wasn’t any left for Lance to test the possible superpowers. Okay. New plan, then. Lance scooted back to the middle of the bed and pulled his legs up, getting into position for meditation. He rested his hands on his knees and closed his eyes, focusing. Just like Shiro taught them… Blue? A mental mrrr-ing noise greeted him. Do you know what’s going on here? Is it just the castle glitching out or… did I… did you… Blue pushed a feeling of smug pride at him. Blue! There was a sensation of laughter. Blue, did you give me ice powers like yours? An acknowledgement. …warn a guy, will you? I have no idea how to use these. Or control them. Trust. Optimism. He’d learn. He’d figure it out. Blue knew he would. Lance opened his eyes. Great. Okay. This was just fucking… he would work with this. He would. He held a hand out in front of his face and wondered, for a moment, if he just had to… play with the feeling like ice in his chest that Blue gave him when he meditated. Move it up and out through his hand. Maybe just… make like Elsa. Flurries everywhere. He held his breath as he actually did see a bright blue glow traveling up his arm. If this power came from his lion, then it was probably quintessence-based, and Allura always glowed when she used her quintessence powers, so… that made sense. “Just a flurry,” Lance whispered as he pushed that feeling of friendly ice up to his palm. He managed to find a way to release it. A bolt of ice shot out of his hand and tore a hole in the ceiling. The ice was four inches across and looked much deadlier than an icicle, even though it hung from his ceiling like one. Lance stared at it for a moment, and gulped. “Okay. Let’s try that again.” Blue laughed. o.o.o.o.o “Lance?” Hunk knocked on the door. “Lance, are you okay in there? You weren’t at breakfast.” Hunk shivered a little, wishing he had a jacket. Was it colder in this part of the hallway, or was it just him? He didn’t get cold easily, but maybe he was getting sick. “Hunk?” “Lance!” Hunk ignored the temperature and went to try to open the door. “Listen, I’m coming in an—” “No!” Lance barked, startling Hunk away from the door. There was a pregnant silence, and Hunk slowly went back to standing upright instead of comically leaning back. “…So…” “Something weird is going on, and coming in might not be safe. Yet. Um. Get Coran maybe?” “What kind of weird?” “Like… my lion maybe gave me superpowers? And I don’t know how to control them?” “…bro.” “Bro, I know.” “What kind of—” “It’s kind of a ‘Conceal, Don’t Feel’ situation in here right now,” Lance admitted. “…oh my god, is that why the hallway is so cold?” Hunk realized. “Uh, probably?” “Are you going to keep us all out, or is this just for this morning?” Hunk rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “Don’t know yet.” Lance sounded nervous. “I’m not… I don’t know how to control it. The stuff I tried so far is kind of tearing holes in the walls when I try to do anything with it? And when I don’t try anything, it’s kind of just freezing the whole room enough for there to be ice everywhere, so that’s probably a hypothermia risk, right?” Hunk thought that over for a moment. “I’m gonna go get Coran.” “I’ll be right here when you get back.” Lance laughed, but it wasn’t a very happy noise. Hunk hurried off. o.o.o.o.o “Lance is a Disney Princess!” “What.” Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best opening. Hunk was a little frazzled and his brain was already on Disney stuff since Lance had made the reference and was hiding in his room. He felt that was a good excuse. “Okay, wait, no. Sorry,” Hunk backtracked, trying to ignore the weird looks he was getting from Pidge and Keith, and the confused ones from Allura and Coran. “He, uh…” “Lance is… royalty?” Allura hazarded, seeming like she didn’t believe it herself. “No. It was a reference, sorry.” Hunk wrung his hands together. “The Blue Lion gave Lance superpowers, but he has no idea how to use them and is scared of hurting us, so he’s holed up in his room. I came to get Coran so we could figure this all out.” “Bullshit,” Pidge said, though the disbelief in her voice was tinged with something that was less ‘my friends are lying’ and more ‘how did my life get weirder?’ “What’s the ambient temperature in Lance’s room?” Hunk asked, rather than arguing directly. Pidge narrowed her eyes, then spun to her computer and typed in a few commands. She stared at the numbers and then sat back, a forced calm settling over her. “Hunk. Why is it below freezing in Lance’s room?” “Oh my god,” Keith whispered, like this was somehow personally offending him. “Like I said: Blue gave Lance superpowers and he can’t control them yet.” Hunk shrugged, still wringing his hands. “Can we head up there now? I want to grab some food for Lance since he missed breakfast.” “I suppose we should all go,” Allura said, getting to her feet. “You said he asked for Coran specifically?” Hunk shrugged. “Coran knows everything.” Coran shook his head. “As far as I know, the lions have never conferred new powers to their paladins before.” “Maybe they decided we need all the help we can get,” Pidge suggested. “But Blue was the only one willing to try.” “Humans seem pretty average compared to most species. No real natural advantages other than stuff that other sentient and sapient species have, too.” Hunk said, leading the way out and towards the kitchen. “Like, no natural quintessence abilities, or extreme physical attributes, or the tech levels that most species have.” “Shiro still managed to be Champion,” Keith pointed out, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “That’s not something you get just by being average.” Hunk shrugged, a little uncomfortable as he gathered some leftovers from breakfast to bring to Lance’s room. “I guess, but what would you even attribute that to? Like, as a species-wide thing that other species don’t have?” Keith didn’t seem to have an answer. Most of the way back to the paladin quarters passed with slightly more inane chatter. They could all feel it, though, the way the temperature plummeted as they entered the hallway. Hunk’s heart sank as he noticed a hole in the wall next to Lance’s door and a thin film of ice seeming to crawl out of it. “Holy fuck,” Pidge whispered, and then dashed forward to hammer on Lance’s door. “Lance! Lance! What the fuck, dude, you actually have superpowers!” “Pidge?” Lance’s voice wasn’t quite as muddled as it usually would have been through the wall, and Hunk glanced up at the hole, just a few inches across. Yeah, there was probably a reason for that. “What are you—” “Hunk told us that you’re basically Elsa now,” Pidge babbled, bouncing on her toes. “We all came to see if it was true, and also I want to know how and stuff, and Hunk brought food since you missed breakfast.” “Hunk is absolutely right, especially about the food,” Lance said immediately. Then, as though suddenly remembering, he said, “Are you wearing a jacket?” “What?” “Pidge, I don’t know how cold it’s going to get out there when I open the door. It’s definitely below freezing in here. I don’t feel it, but that’s because of Blue. Are you guys wearing jackets? Are you bundled up? Please tell me you’re bundled up. Get blankets or something.” “Lance,” Hunk sighed. “We’ll be fine.” “Bundle up, bitch,” Lance retorted, with the air of someone quoting something. “No, but seriously. I have no idea how to control this. Put something more on.” “Lance, please just open the door.” “Not until you bundle up!” Hunk gave Coran and Allura a helpless look. “Altean fabrics trap heat rather efficiently, and self-adjust to the environment to aid in thermal regulation,” Coran said. “We’ll be fine.” “Ugh, fine. Can you hold this, then? I guess I can dig up the paladin bathrobe or something.” Coran took the plate of leftovers as Hunk hurried off to done the bathrobe, Pidge and Keith going to their own rooms to do the same. o.o.o.o.o Coran exchanged a look with Allura. “This has truly never happened before, has it?” She asked. Coran shook his head. “If it has, I was never told.” “Perhaps Lance will have more answers.” “You do realize I can hear you, right?” Lance said, voice much louder and clearer. A blue eye peered at them from the hole next to the wall. Allura tilted her head a little. “Would you like to explain the hole?” “I was trying to figure out if I could make flurries. Something simple and harmless, to get a feel for what I could actually do, and like… what it felt like, I guess? So that I don’t freeze over my room by accident again.” “A hole in the wall does not suggest something harmless, Lance.” “Yeah, well, my control is apparently nonexistent, so… I managed to go from four-inch holes to two-inch holes before I gave up and decided to just wait until I could experiment in the training room. I don’t like having holes in my walls.” “You’re going to help with patching those up yourself, Lance,” Coran informed him. “Yeah, I figured.” The other paladins made it back, clothed in the admittedly very warm bathrobes that they’d been given, though Pidge and Keith did not look happy to be in them. “Okay, now can you open the door?” Hunk asked. “Yeah, just… just stand back a bit? It’s probably super cold in here to you guys, and I’m still randomly giving off snow blasts with random gestures, so I don’t want you to end up like the wall.” Coran was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one to look over at the hole in question. “Yeah, okay. Just… just open up, Lance.” Hunk shifted from foot to foot, looking nervous. The door slid open with a whoosh, and Coran’s first thought was oh thank quiznak, he looks okay. His second thought was that is a very large amount of ice. His third thought was that is VERY COLD. The air that came blasting out of Lance’s room as he opened the door was absolutely freezing, far past the point that Coran had expected. What could be seen of the room behind him was covered in hoarfrost, on every visible surface save for some of the fabric on his bed where he’d presumably slept and sat, and some footprints on the floor. But Lance himself, while also covered in frost on his clothing, and with rime on the ends of his hair, seemed fine. There were no signs of frostbite, not even early warnings like yellowed fingers from lack of bloodflow.  He seemed perfectly healthy, if smiling unsteadily like he was only doboshes from a panic attack. “So… do you want to build a snow man?” Pidge asked, startling a laugh out of Lance. It was a shaky laugh, true, and Coran didn’t quite understand why Pidge’s words had caused it, but it was something. “It doesn’t have to be a snowman,” Hunk said in a tone Coran had heard the humans refer to as sing-song. “If Pidge is Ana, and I’m Elsa, then what does that make you?” Lance said. “Kristoff? Keith can be Hans.” “Keith isn’t charming enough to be Hans,” Pidge argued. “He can be Sven.” “Wait, no, I want to be Sven,” Hunk protested. “Keith can be Kristoff, he’s grumpy enough.” “But then who’s Hans?” Pidge asked. “…Lotor,” Keith suggested after a long moment. Lance doubled over, laughing. “Ew, he’s weird,” Pidge said, making a face. “And he’s more interested in Lance than in me.” “Still tries to seduce one of the good guys for questionable reasons,” Keith said. “Even if we don’t know what his reasons are yet. Or, well, anything about him other than that he likes to flirt with Lance and may or may not hate his dad almost as much as we do for no discernible reason.” “Honestly, I can live with that,” Lance said. The tenseness in his shoulders was leaving. Good. “Better than him hating us, right? This way we might actually be able to take advantage of his interest somehow.” “Back to Frozen parallels!” Pidge interrupted. “Coran could be the Duke of Weselton?” Hunk suggested. “He’s got the mustache.” “Counterpoint: Olaf,” Pidge said, like it settled the argument. Apparently, it did, because the paladins all nodded like this made sense. Coran wondered who Olaf was. “What does that make Allura, then? She’s the only actual royalty on board,” Lance asked. “Marshmallow,” Keith said immediately. “Because she can kick all our asses, and she’s the one with the crown at the end of the day.” “Oh my god, that’s right, the stinger.” Lance started laughing again. Pidge leaned over towards Allura and beckoned her closer. “At the end of the movie, Marshmallow finds the crown that Elsa threw away during her power ballad,” She whispered conspiratorially. Coran felt that it was very obvious that Allura wasn’t even attempting to disguise her confusion. “I don’t understand.” Pidge patted her on the shoulder, nodding solemnly. “We can have a movie night later. The movie’s older than any of us, but it’s a fun one.” “I have complaints about the—” “We know, Lance,” Hunk said, cutting him off. “Pidge and I have heard this before. We know you have issues with the animation models and the racism, but the movie’s almost sixty years old. Let it go.” A grin started spreading across Lance’s face. “Hunk, why?” Pidge buried her face in her hands. “Now he’s going to start singing.” “The moon glows white on th—” “No.” Keith turned and lightly clapped a hand over Lance’s mouth. It was clearly meant in a joking manner, but Lance flailed wildly to get Keith off, scrambling back into his room. “What the hell, Keith? Are you insane?” “Wh—” “What if you got frostbite, asshole?” Lance demanded. “I have no idea if my skin is even a normal temperature anymore, you can’t just—” “It was just a second!” “Still!” Keith frowned. “Your face felt normal. I mean, a little cold, but not unnaturally.” Coran decided to take over at that point. “Lance, if I may? I’m rather hardier than humans, and I’d like to see if there are any external signs of the… changes, other than the obvious.” Lance took a step back, hugging his elbows. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” “We could scan you in a healing pod if that would make you more comfortable,” Coran suggested as gently as he could. Lance nodded rapidly. “Yeah, let’s do that.” “But you hate the healing pods,” Pidge said. “Yeah, but if I hurt a healing pod, we can fix that.” Lance shrugged. “There’s less danger.”  “You do realize that worrying that much might just make it harder to control, right? Like, if we assume that your magic is anything like movie magic…” Pidge trailed off suggestively. “Okay, but Elsa had most of her life to practice her control. I’ve had like… three hours. Less, probably.” Lance widened his eyes imploringly. “That’s a big difference.” “Fair point,” Pidge sighed. “Hey, Hunk, carry me.” “What? Why?” “I’m lazy.” “That’s a terrible reason.” “Nah.” Hunk ended up carrying Pidge. As they walked down towards the med bay, Coran noted that Lance kept a careful distance between himself and everyone else. Every time someone moved closer, he’d shift away. Hopefully, that would be temporary. The Blue Lion wouldn’t have given her paladin abilities that would have rendered him unable to stomach the idea of being near his loved ones, surely. “Right, then! In you go!” Coran opened the pod and gestured inside. “We’ll have you scanned in a tick!” “Thanks, Coran,” Lance said as he stepped in, shedding his bathrobe until he was left in only curiously dry bedclothes. “I don’t need the pod suit, do I?” “I think we can go ahead and skip it this time,” Coran allowed. “Hop on in!” Lance climbed in, though slowly, hesitation evident in his movements. He wasn’t as hesitant as Allura would have been, or even Coran himself, but bad experiences with healing pods tended to leave their marks. A rogue AI locking Lance into one in an attempt to kill him wasn’t going to leave as much of a mark as ten thousand years in stasis was, but it was still going to be something. The pod closed on Lance, and hissed quietly as it prepared him. He’d only be in for a dobosh or so, but the pods did have their own protocol. Coran wasn’t surprised by the results. “So, doc, what’s the verdict?” Lance asked as he stumbled out. Allura moved to help, quietly reprimanding Lance when he tried to push her away. “I’m a little sturdier than you humans, Lance. I think I can handle a little cold.” “Your stable internal temperature is hovering somewhat lower than before, though not by much. The equivalent in human terms would be… Pidge? I’m afraid I don’t remember the conversion rates.” Pidge ran over and took a look at the scans, then nodded sharply. “You’re about five degrees Fahrenheit cooler than before.” “Aw, you do think I’m cool.” “Shove off, Lance,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes. “Also, could you give me that in Celsius? I think it’s only two and a half degrees that way, but…” Lance shrugged as he pulled his bathrobe back on. “Numbers aren’t really my strong point.” “About two point two repeating, you metric heathen.” “Awesome. That’s… not even all that weird. I can live with that. Is that just my core temperature, or all around?” “Your hands do appear to be colder than the rest of your body,” Coran said. He skimmed through the information. “By quite a bit more, actually. I’d worry for the safety of your little human fingers if the pods weren’t reading it as your new normal.” “Maybe I can learn to control it?” Lance suggested, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I mean, this is probably going to be less ‘my comfortable temperature range has shifted down this many degrees’ and more like… ‘my comfortable temperature range has expanded in a downwards direction.’” “You can’t know that, Lance.” Pidge fiddled with her glasses. Nervous habit, that, and one that Coran had seen in plenty of optometric aid-wearing aliens before. “I mean, I’d hope so, but you’re the one that keeps reminding us that you don’t know how to use these powers.” “Yeah, but… all the stuff before this was just adding more to the range I could withstand, not moving it.” Lance frowned at the ground, thinking it over. “What do you mean, stuff before this?” Allura demanded. “Lance, what have you been hiding?” “Nothing!” Lance threw up his hands into the air beside his head in a position that the humans tended to take when they were declaring themselves innocent or acknowledging an authority immediately after breaking a rule. Lance quickly noticed this, and stuffed his hands back into his robe’s pockets. “I mean, yes, I technically wasn’t telling you something, but that was because I didn’t think it was a big deal, and the team already had enough to deal with.” Allura crossed her arms. “What, Lance? What did you think wasn’t a big deal?” Lance stared uncomfortably at the ground to his side. “I just… Blue thought I was too vulnerable. And I didn’t notice at first, but I didn’t get cold anymore? Like, if I was in the showers, I could shower at my usual temperatures, but I could also turn the temperature down as low as it went and it wouldn’t bother me? Which is a big deal, because I used to use up all the hot water at home when I took showers because I couldn’t stand the cold. And sometimes when I was meditating on Blue, I’d feel like there was like… a core of ice in my chest. But not uncomfortable? Just there. I figured it was just me and Blue bonding more, like… I don’t know, quintessence resonance or something? Is that a thing?” Allura’s face looked as though it was carved from stone. “Lance, you need to tell us these things.” “I thought it was normal! And, look, it was only good things. Me and Blue were getting closer, and I was less likely to die if we went to an ice planet, and that was it! Until this morning, of course, but I really don’t think you can blame me for that one.” Lance kept glaring at the floor. “Seriously, there were more important things for you guys to focus on. Me being able to handle a bit of snow wasn’t all that big in comparison.” Coran felt that now might have been an opportune moment to intervene, given how Allura looked to be gearing up for a fight. “Did the Blue Lion confirm that she was behind your new abilities?” “What? Uh, yeah, I asked as soon as I realized what was going on.” Lance frowned. “She seemed pretty proud of herself, too. When I told her that I had no idea how to use them, she kind of just went ‘well, you’ll figure it out,’ and left it at that.” “That does sound like the Blue Lion,” Coran said. Quick to trust and put her faith in her paladins, and willing to try new things that had a chance of working if she just felt it would be right. Not as deliberate as the Green Lion in her own experimentations, or as eager to trust in intuition as Red in everything, but some odd balance between the two that occasionally left them dealing with rather odd situations. Like this. “Well, let’s see what you can do with those abilities up in the training room!” Coran said, clapping his hands. “We’ll see if you can’t cause more damage than an angry yelmor!” “Way to have faith in my control, Coran,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. There was a smile on his face, though, and that was worth the bit of sarcasm. “Plenty of faith, young paladin.” Coran clapped a hand on Lance’s shoulder, ignoring the flinch. Lance would learn to trust himself again soon. “But I also want to see what happens if you learn to use those powers and really let loose!” “Honestly, that idea kind of scares me,” Lance admitted. “And that’s why we need to try it!” Coran insisted. “We can all stay in the console area while you practice, if that would make you feel better. Plenty to protect us from the cold.” “Great,” Pidge said, linking her hands behind her head. “It was starting to get a bit cold in the med bay anyway.” And Coran didn’t stumble or tense or otherwise display any sign that he was taken aback by that, but he was surprised. He hadn’t even noticed the slowly dropping temperature, but a glance at the small console on the wall noted that the temperature was currently some fifteen of those ‘Fahrenheit’ degrees closer to freezing than it had been when they first entered. Lance hissed out a slow breath. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to learn to control that.” o.o.o.o.o Pidge was in charge of the console when they got up there, at least a little. Coran was really running the show, and Allura had the final word, but Pidge was the one pressing all the buttons and making little adjustments. That was fine by her, at least for now. “Do you think it would help if Lance joined in on your magic lessons?” Pidge asked as she flipped a switch, not bothering to look up at Allura even though she’d addressed her question to the older woman. “I know you’re basically self-taught using those quintessence books from the library, but if this ice stuff is based on quintessence too, then it could help.” “I’ll consider it,” Allura said, utterly stiff. Pidge resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Allura had a good reason to be annoyed that Lance had been keeping secrets. The chain of command existed for a reason, and Voltron was the kind of team where bad things happened if there were secrets. There also would have been minimal fallout if Lance had told them; despite his worries to the contrary, Lance’s problems weren’t going to make the rest of them lose sight of what was important. Pidge would have called it self-absorbed and made a joke about how the world didn’t revolve around Lance if she didn’t know what kind of self-esteem issues it was couched in. (She’d never brought up the seventh wheel thing. She was pretty sure that Lance didn’t know she’d even overheard that conversation. But she knew, and she kept an eye out for… signs. Bad signs. Signs like she’d seen in her mom, sometimes.) “Okay, dude,” Pidge said into the microphone, looking down at the training area. Lance looked back up at her and gave her a thumbs up. “I’m gonna bring up some targets, and I want you to show us what you were doing to make holes in the walls. They’re going to be still and stable, so they shouldn’t be too hard to hit, but it’s a new weapon, so don’t be too bothered if you miss the first few times.” “Thanks for the glowing commendation, Pidge.” “New weapon, dude. I know the statistics.” She did not, in fact, know the statistics, but she did have common sense. People generally needed a few shots, minimum, to adjust to a new weapon. “Now shoot.” “Fine, you little taskmaster. And by the way, I was trying to make flurries.” “Well, try to shoot the targets now.” Lance gave her the finger, but nonetheless turned to the targets. Clad only in his usual outfit, rather than risk damaging his uniform, he looked kind of silly. He stood with his feet apart and askew, ready to brace for possible recoil. He held one hand up in front of him, arm straight and palm facing out, like he was Iron Man preparing to use a repulsor on someone. Pidge heard the usual preparatory breath, and then— “Holy fuck!” She yelped, as a thick bolt of ice seemed to materialize in the air in front of Lance, already speeding towards the targets. It hit way off-center, though still on the target itself. Pidge gaped at the fact that there was a several-inches-thick spear of ice stabbing through the Altean metal. “Dude,” Hunk said behind her. “That just happened.” “…I missed,” Lance said quietly. “New weapon, dude.” “Wait, why wasn’t there any ice in the hole in your wall?” Keith asked before Lance could try again. “I panicked and pulled it out because I hadn’t figured out what to tell you guys yet.” Lance shrugged. “In hindsight, you’d all know something was wrong whether the ice was still there or not, because there was a hole, but, you know, panic.” “Try again, asshole,” Pidge said into the microphone. “Would different motions help? Or is the Iron Man repulsor pose the only one you know?” Lance immediately shifted one hand gripping his shooting hand’s wrist, and his shoulder bunched up under his ear like he was holding a pistol. He was still shooting with his palm. “I hate you.” “Love you too, Gunderson.” Pidge rolled her eyes. Lance shot off bolts of ice three more times, in varying sizes as Coran asked for adjustments in energy output from Lance and new readings on the instruments from Pidge. “What if he like… acted like he was throwing something?” Keith suggested, miming an overhand toss himself. “Like when people actually throw javelins.” “Lance?” Pidge said into the microphone. “Did you catch that?” “I know I’m good at shooting things, but I should remind you know that my overhand throws are terrible. Remember the sporse stuff? I was trying to hit Keith but I missed and hit Shiro instead.” Lance waved his hands around emphatically. “Javelin throw? Bad idea.” “Try it anyway. For science!” Pidge was sure that her grin was audible. The attempt was a catastrophic failure, though that may have had more to do with Lance half-assing it than anything else. “What about other stuff?” Hunk asked. “Like, could he make a bow and arrow out of ice? Is that a thing that can happen?” Lance shook his head. “My control is not good enough for that. Maybe later.” “Any other ideas?” Keith asked, looking at Coran and Allura for suggestions. “Oh, I have one,” Lance said, raising a hand from where he stood in the center of training area. There was a grin on his face. It was a grin that promised trouble. It was a grin that promised fun. It was a grin that Pidge liked, because it had led to her getting a video game she loved while in space, and that everyone else was just a little scared of. “Let’s see if this works,” Lance said, and stuck his hand straight up in the air. Then he folded down the pinky and ring finger, letting the pointer and middle finger remain pointing straight up, the thumb angled out as far as possible. “Lance,” Pidge drawled, barely keeping her laugh under control as Hunk groaned behind her. Keith could be heard hitting his head against the glass. “Are you turning your finger guns into actual guns?” “Ice guns, Pidge. They’re gonna be ice guns,” Lance kept his elbow locked as he lowered his hand at the target. “Recoil,” she reminded him. “There isn’t any!” He called up, but adjusted his elbow to have enough bend to take recoil anyway. Deep breath. Exhale. Shoot. “Perfect bullseye,” Pidge muttered. “I think we’ve found your best form. Now we just need to—” Lance shot again. “Hey, asshole, I was talking!” “Keep talking, then. I can keep shooting while you’re babbling.” Pidge rolled her eyes. Ugh. “The size of your ice projectiles is changing based on how you’re sending it out. Try one finger.” Lance shrugged and just pointed right at the target. It wasn’t a perfect bullseye, but the projectile was barely half an inch across this time. “What if he just like… punched the air?” Hunk suggested. “Like, build up the power and then blast from the knuckles?” Pidge shrugged. “Hey, if he’s up for it, then why not?” “Lance?” Coran suddenly said. “Using up this much quintessence should be draining you. Are you sure you aren’t tired?” Lance paused, actually gauging the situation. “I think Blue might be giving me her quintessence to practice with? She seems really happy.” “Do the punch that Hunk said!” Pidge yelled into the microphone. “I wanna see what happens!” What happened was a massive spray of ice needles that Lance seemed to have very little control over. “Well, you’re never using that with allies nearby,” Pidge commented. “Okay, we got a bunch of projectile stuff done. I want to see if you can build.” “Pidge, I can barely make the weapons do anythi…and Blue wants me to play along. Okay. Sure. Why not?” “Maybe start with seeing if you can deliberately ice over the floor?” Pidge suggested, glancing at Coran. He nodded, and Pidge turned back down to the training ground. “Yeah, Coran’s giving the go-ahead.” Lance bit his lip and then kneeled slowly to the ground, putting just the fingers of his hand to the ground. He closed his eyes, nervous again, and Pidge was sure everyone was just as focused as she was. A blast of ice exited Lance’s palm. It wasn’t another bolt, thankfully, or Lance could have ended up stabbing through his own hand by accident, but it was enough to bowl him over backwards. Allura disappeared out the door. o.o.o.o.o She took a deep breath before she opened the door, glad that she was wearing her dress instead of her uniform. “Stop that,” she said, brushing into the training room without preamble. “Allura!” Lance yelped, scrambling backwards across the floor on all fours. She waited until he’d stopped before speaking again. “What you’re doing here… are you trying to build up the quintessence and then release it?” Lance nodded slowly, jerkily. “You need to stop building it up first. Let only the smallest trickle through to the ends of your fingers,” she instructed, coming closer and taking a seat on the floor next to him. She took his hand in hers and spread the fingers wide so she could press it back against the ground. “Now, try again. No build-up. Just reach, pull, and spread.” Lance closed his eyes again, and Allura watched as the slightest bit of pale blue light made its way down his arm. And then paused, building just a little in his palm. The blast was smaller this time. Lance buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Try again,” Allura ordered, thinking back to the readings she’d been doing in an attempt to understand her own powers. “Remember, do not let it build. Simply extend the power.” “I was.” “You hesitate right before you release the quintessence,” Allura informed him, watching for the flinch as he admitted she was right, if only to himself. “Every time, there is a pause. The longer you wait before you release, the more it will build. There is no shame in going slow or starting small, but do not let it build unless you plan to attack.” Lance looked up at her, and the expression in those eyes was unreadable. “Lance, this was a common problem when Altea still had fledgling quintessence users,” she finally said. “What, really?” His body language changed, becoming just a bit more open. Good. He’d listen, then. “Especially for snipers, whether they used a bow or a gun. You are accustomed to holding tension for a period of time before you release it as your primary form of attack, so that is how you instinctively work with quintessence. It is good for those who only plan to use quintessence for an attack, but if you plan to use this power in other ways…” Lance closed his eyes again. “Right. Just a trickle. Okay.” The blast was tiny this time. “Better. Again.” Allura knew he was actually trying. That wasn’t to say that he slacked off during regular training, of course, far from it. But there was a jittery, intense edge to him now. He did not want to be a danger to his friends, and so he focused. “Try it like this,” Allura suggested after several mixed successes. “Attempt to imagine it as a flow of energy circulating through your body, like blood. Not simply going down, but coming back up. Then you just siphon away power from the stream as you need it.” Lance frowned, but nodded. “Okay, so like… okay. I’m making anime references in my head to have this make sense, so I’m weebing out, but I think I get it.” “Lance?” Pidge’s voice came over the speaker. “Are you using the chakra system from Naruto as a basis?” “Shut up, Pidge.” “That’s a yes.” “Shut up.” Lance smiled, face turned away from the enclosed console that overlooked the training room. “Okay, I’m gonna… do you mind if I meditate a bit first? With Blue?” “Do you need to leave the room?” “No.” “Then if you think it might help, go ahead. I’ll stay here.” And practice, actually. If Lance was going to be meditating for quintessence training, then so would Allura. Lance took up a meditation pose that Allura had seen reflected in the other paladins, something that was apparently fairly popular among humans. Her own pose was a little different, but it would achieving the same goal of aiding her in becoming comfortable enough to focus on her own quintessence. They sat, entirely still, for several doboshes. They could hear only each other’s breathing and the occasional shift of cloth. The others were in the soundproof control area above, so Allura couldn’t hear them either. She could feel the temperature dropping steadily, a slow decline through the degrees. It didn’t bother her, since her dress aided her in retaining homeostasis, but the exposed skin of her face and hands could feel the crisp chill. When Allura opened her eyes, she could see her own breath. “Lance?” She hazarded. “I think…” Lance said, a little breathy. “I think I’m good?” “Ready to try again?” Allura asked, keeping her voice soft and her tone gentle. Lance opened his eyes, and there was a paleness to his irises, almost a glow. If Allura focused, she could feel quintessence pulsing sluggishly in a path through his body. “Smoother,” she said, running a hand down his arm. “You can do this, but your quintessence is still lurching as it passes through you.” Lance frowned, but focused again, and the circulation path cleared a little, smoothed out. “Try again,” Allura ordered, drawing back a few paces. Lance bit his lip and put a hand to the floor, closing his eyes again. A sheen of frost spread out his hand, in an imperfect circle, a little splotchy. But it was there. “Congratulations. You did it.” Lance’s eyes flew open in surprise, and he stared down at his hand and the floor beneath it. The frost had pulsed outward in varying directions and speeds for a few feet, and surrounded Lance on all sides. “Holy shit,” he said, lacking words. “Language,” Pidge’s voice came mockingly over the speakers. “I just did magic! Let me be freaked out!” Lance called back. “So, uh… do you think I could refine it or whatever?” “You will be joining me in my quintessence practice sessions,” Allura answered. “So yes, you will refine it. It’s a very useful ability, if you can learn to use it properly.” “Now, would you like to see what will happen if you try to… I believe the phrase is ‘let loose’?” Allura gestured around the room. “The training room can take it, I assure you.” “Are you sure?” “Absolutely.” “…can you take it, though?” Lance looked around nervously. “I mean, it’s probably going to be really underwhelming, but there’s always a chance that you won’t be fine, right?” “Alteans are a sturdy species, Lance. I’ll be fine. I’ll stand by the door if it would make you feel comfortable, though, just in case.” Allura doubted Lance’s newfound abilities would be quite so powerful, especially if Blue was supplying the power and could cut off the quintessence flow if things started heading for overkill. Lance nodded, getting to his feet and nervously wringing his hands. “Um…” “What is it, Lance?” Allura did her best to keep any annoyance out of her tone. The situation was stressful enough for her paladins already. She didn’t need to add to it. “There’s something that I think might help me loosen up before I try, but… it’s kind of dumb?” He scratched the back of his head, looking away. “Lance, if it’s going to help, then I promise it’s not dumb.” “Yeah, but some of the others might laugh, and—never mind. I’ll be fine. I just… music? Might help me get in the right mindset?” “I don’t see how that’s worthy of mockery.” “Lance?” Pidge’s voice came over the speakers. “Do you want me to play ‘Let It Go’ for you?” Lance ducked his head, a blush covering his cheeks. “It could help, yeah.” “I have it on my laptop, so you’re in luck.” Pidge typed audibly for a few seconds. “And I might have laughed, but we wouldn’t be mocking you, dude, just… you know. Disney. We’d stop teasing if it bothered you.” Lance shrugged, still looking uncomfortable. Allura didn’t quite know what was going on, but she put a hand on Lance’s shoulder and squeezed just a little. Human bones were fragile, after all. “Good luck.” “Thanks, Allura,” he said, staring at her hand like it was an unknown creature for a moment. He smiled brightly at her, then. “And hey, after this, we can do a movie night! If Pidge has Frozen on her computer, then we can watch that, and you’ll understand all the jokes we’re making.” Allura nodded. “Alright. Try not to exhaust yourself. Quintessence can have strange effects on the body.” “I’ll try.” Allura headed for the door, and leaned against it with her arms crossed as she waited for Pidge to finish up with whatever she was doing. “I’ll probably end up dancing a little,” Lance said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Just to… get in the mood. Or something.” Allura gave him a go-ahead gesture. Anything that helped. An instrumental started playing over the speakers, the ‘piano’ that she’d heard in so many other songs. Lance closed his eyes and started… not walking, not quite, but moving to the slow music, circling tightly in the middle of the room. “The snow glows white on the mountain tonight,” The woman’s voice was a little… not hoarse, not quite, but it was a little rough in some way. Still appealing, though, and very skilled. Lance was mouthing along to the words, his movements getting less tense as the song went on. Allura had never quite connected to music in the way that people like Coran did, but she could tell that Lance was finding the music helpful. As the music picked up, so did his movements, until he suddenly stopped, posing, and then started gesturing after just a few seconds. “Let it go! Let it go! Can’t hold it back anymore!” Ah. Lance finally got his flurries. She saw him open his eyes as he managed them with a gesture that involved rubbing his thumb along his fingers, almost like he was snapping his fingers, but… smoother. The song gained more energy, and so did Lance, like the instrumentals and voice were fueling him just as much as the Blue Lion was. He spun in a circle at one point, foot sweeping along the ground, and it left a burst of frost and snow behind it along the floor. Lance grinned at Allura, and started repeating the motion. He flung his arms out, apparently just pouring out quintessence for more flurries. “Here I stand, and here I’ll stay! Let the storm rage on!” Lance took a solid stance in the middle of the room, hands clawing up through the air as his quintessence did… something. Allura wasn’t sure how to describe it, other than ‘suddenly racing.’ This was reflected externally, as his eyes started glowing at a level visible even from the distance, and the temperature plummeted even further. A set of large icicles grew upwards out of the ground in a circle around him, and he slowly turned on the spot, biting his lip. Allura watched as the icicles bent sideways, curving around Lance in a cage-like structure until they joined together at the top. Slightly flatter and more geometric shapes sprouted between them to form something like walls. Lance shot Allura another grin and then slipped out between the gap he’d left. She gave him a thumbs-up, a gesture she’d picked up from the humans, and then shooed him along to do more. Lance seemed happy to do just that, closing his eyes and spreading his arms wide, spinning and just… pouring out quintessence. By Altea, that couldn’t be healthy. “Let it go! Let it go! And I’ll rise like the break of dawn!” Lance’s eyes were still closed. Lance couldn’t see what he was doing. Oh quiznak. Allura brought her hands up to shield her face as snow and hail continued to pour from Lance’s outstretched arms, swirling around the room and whipping up a wind that was actually quite strong. She hoped the song was going to end soon, because Lance was making actual snowdrifts in his movements. …She’d told him to go all-out. To let loose. Oh well. Time to deal with the consequences. “Here I stand, in the light of day!” The largest blast of quintessence yet, and Allura was nearly blinded by the resulting fountain of snow. “Let the storm rage on!” The wind whipped by, all the snow from so far lifting into the air. “The cold never bothered me anyway.” A musical trill to signal the end of the song, and everything fell. Lance stayed where he was, heaving breaths with a giant smile on his face, holding a pose. His eyes were still closed. “Ahem.” Lance opened his eyes, looking right at Allura. His smile dropped with his arms. “Holy shit.” Allura raised an eyebrow, then let her own folded arms fall, along with all the snow piled on them. She started brushing the rest off of her shoulders, head, and other body parts. “I… I didn’t expect this,” Lance said, a little shaky. His shoulders crept up towards his ears, folding in on himself like he was scared that he’d damage something if he took up too much space. “I did this. I did this? This?” “You did,” Allura said, giving up on the snow removal. She folded her hands over one another in front of her, once more the very picture of a lady. “I think we’ll find a nice, cold planet that won’t have its environment harmed by the sudden drop in temperatures, next time.” “Next time?” “You do need to train more,” she told him. She let a smile cross her face. “I can’t let you off that easily, now can I?” Lance actually laughed, some of the tension leaving his body. “So you’re not mad about all the snow?” “I did tell you to let loose. You did this under my orders, Lance.” Allura shook her head. “We’ll figure out a way to drain the room later.” “Okay. Okay.” Lance took a deep breath. “Okay. I have cool ice powers. I can be the Elsa. Or the Bobby Drake, maybe? Or the Hitsugaya. The Haku. I can do the thing. That’s cool.” “Lance, I don’t know who any of these people are.” “Fictional characters.” “I assumed, yes.” Allura sighed, stretching as she headed for the door. She was curious to see just how low the temperature had dropped in terms of actual degrees; her fingers were numb by now. “Let’s go see the others and find out if our resident scientists got any interesting information from that experiment.” “Okay. Um, Allura? Would a planet that’s already mostly ice and water be a decent place to practice?” He scratched the back of his head. “Because if it would, then we could probably go back to the mermaids, right?” Allura considered that. “We’ll see.” o.o.o.o.o Keith stared as Lance lay on the ice in his paladin armor, talking to an alien mermaid that was actually responding to his flirtations. She was popping up at the edge of the bay-like curve they’d chipped into the ice so that they could stand on ice that was thick enough to support them while still being accessible to the locals. Just her head and a fraction of her torso were out of the water, her arms folded on the ice ledge so she could rest her head like Lance was. Lance himself was kicking his legs back and forth in the air behind him, like this was a gossip session instead of a negotiation for training space. Granted, the castle and lions had to stay up on one of the massive glaciers instead of on the thinner sheet of ice on the water, so the situation wasn’t optimal, but a friendly planet that wouldn’t have any issue with Lance practicing seemed like a pretty good idea. “Queen Luxia!” Hunk called, jogging over to one of the others, who did look a little fancier than the mermaid Lance was talking to. “Nice to see you again.” “And you, paladins.” The queen smiled. “I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here again. Has Lance really gotten new abilities?” “Yeah, and they’re amazing. Seriously, if he’d had those the first time, the whole Baku thing would have been over even faster.” “Only if I didn’t accidentally freeze the entire ocean while panicking first,” Lance shouted over. He turned back to the mermaid girl he was talking to and explained, “We don’t know much about how these powers work, yet, so who knows how that all would have gone.” “I’d love to watch, if you don’t mind,” the mermaid girl said. “It’s been a while since you left, and I’m sure we’d all like to see what our people’s savior has been up to.” Lance’s face did some interesting acrobatics that landed on a goofy, confused smile and bright red cheeks. “Yeah? Not just you and the queen?” “I’m sure Blumfump and Swirn would be interested. I’ll go get them!” Mermaid girl disappeared back into the water, and Lance pushed himself up to sit on his knees. “So… savior?” Keith asked, coming closer. “I don’t think I heard that story.” “Oh, uh, nah, that was just as much Hunk as it was me.” Lance rubbed at the back of his neck, though Keith wasn’t sure if he could actually feel anything through the suit. “There was this giant alien sea serpent thing that was brainwashing the merfolk into feeding themselves to it? So we both got brainwashed for a bit, and then we killed the monster, and everything was chill.” Keith bumped up an eyebrow, because that didn’t sound like the whole story, or even most of it. Lance hadn’t even bragged about making a cool shot or anything. But he could always ask Hunk, or maybe one of the merpeople, for more details later. “Okay, then. Good job for saving them.” “Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw, Keith, did you just compliment me?” Keith blinked once. Twice. “…what was that about a chainsaw?” “It’s a quote? From Heathers? We’ll have to watch it sometime, it’s a classic.” Lance shook his head. “Just consider it, uh… an expression of surprise. I guess?” “I think anyone would be surprised to hear that, Lance.” “…see, I can’t tell if you’re making a joke or not.” Lance rubbed at his chin. “I think you are, but…” “I was trying,” Keith admitted. “Maybe work on your delivery,” Lance said, patting him on the shoulder. “Oh, hey, you know what I just realized?” “What?” “I could swim here without my armor now!” Lance clapped his hand excitedly, jumping on the spot. “Oh my god, I won’t be bothered by the water temperature!” “But… how will you breathe?” Keith felt like this was a pretty important concern. “They have the bubble coral thing,” Lance said, waving the question off. “So I could totally breathe without my helmet, and I am a very good swimmer.” “You wouldn’t be able to go too deep, though,” Pidge said from behind them, startling them both. She ignored Lance's cursing as she continued. “The pressure would crush your lungs, probably.” “Thanks for the reminder, shorty,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “But… actually, do you think I could like… take off the suit anyway? I don’t want to accidentally rip open the gloves or something.” “If you’re going to strip, please have some spare clothes on hand first.” Pidge made a face. “I don’t want to see you naked.” “I’m… I’m wearing underwear, Pidge. I’m not just commando under here.” “Doesn’t count.” “Oh, come on! Boxers totally hide more than a speedo would! That’s gotta count for something?”  “I don’t want to imagine you in a speedo either, Lance.” Lance turned imploring eyes in Keith’s direction. “Help me.” Keith shrugged. “I don’t see why you’d need Pidge’s permission at all.” “That is… a good point.” Lance nodded to himself. “Right! Time to strip!” “Allura’s gonna be mad,” Pidge said, sidling up to Keith. “Right?” Keith shrugged again. “I don’t know. Probably.” The mermaid girl that had been talking to Lance reappeared just as Lance finished taking off the paladin armor undersuit. “Plaxum! Hey, do you have one of those bubble corals?” “I’m afraid not,” Plaxum said, shaking her head. “The queen might?” “Eh, I’ll ask later. Can’t go too deep anyway.” And then he took a running leap at the water, diving in like the water was a second home. It probably was, going by his stories. Lance resurfaced and shook his head, grinning at the nearby merfolk. Plaxum darted in and placed a kiss on his cheek, and then backed away, laughing. After a moment, Lance laughed, too. “I didn’t do anything to deserve that one!” “You came back, though!” Keith felt both his eyebrows rise up, and angled his body a little towards Pidge as he asked, “Did you know about that?” “You mean, did Lance brag about getting a kiss from a pretty mermaid as thanks for helping out her planet while you were being emo in the healing pods waiting for Shiro?” Pidge asked. “Because the answer is yes.” “Is she treating it as an inside joke, or actually interested, or…?” Pidge made a face. “How would I know?” “You’re less agile in the water like this,” one of the newer merfolk said. “Yeah, well, I don’t have a jetpack as part of my natural body, so… there’s your answer, Blumfump.” Lance swam lazily in a circle, and looked pretty agile to Keith’s eyes, but he figured the mermaids had higher standards, given that they were, well, mermaids. “The water is much colder near you,” the last member of the trio said, drifting closer and farther away repeatedly. “Is this part of your new powerset?” “Yeah, Swirn, it’s… it’s been a weird day.” Lance stopped swimming in circles and tread water for a moment. “I guess I’m just… making everything around me cold now? When I woke up this morning, my room was totally frosted over, no joke.” “Wow,” Plaxum said, hand to her mouth. “Are you thinking that you might be able to exhaust yourself too much here to do that again?” “Nah, I’m just here to practice on a planet where making things cold isn’t going to do much damage. Which reminds me, I thought you guys opened up the thermal vents again. Why’s there still ice?” “Oh, there’s always been ice on the water,” Swirn said. “It’s just that it didn’t cover everything before. We’re actually a couple vodameters away from the village right now, not counting vertical movement.” “Just wondering. After all that ‘all are safe and warm’ stuff, I was kind of hoping you guys wouldn’t have trouble going back to your old lives. Temperature was the big thing to worry about, other than food.” Lance disappeared under the water for a moment, and then popped back up so he could slick his hair back while it was still soaked. “Man, it’s been a while since I could swim properly.” “You still can’t,” Blumfump told him. “Wow. Thanks. Totally feeling the love here,” Lance drawled, kicking away slowly. Several footsteps crunched across the ice behind Keith and Pidge, stopping just short of them. “What is Lance doing?” Allura sounded tired. Unfortunate, that. “He wanted to go for a swim,” Keith said, turning to see that the princess was back in her armor. “He realized he didn’t need the armor since the cold doesn’t bother him, so he’s… having fun, I guess?” “Lance!” Allura shouted, hands on her hips. “Time for training!” Lance pouted, but climbed out of the water anyway. “Can I have music again?” “We don’t have any way of playing it.” Lance grinned. “Actually…” Allura’s face gained a guarded look. “What?” “Blue wanted to help,” Lance said, looking giddily smug. “So I made sure she was outside of the castle and had a copy of the soundtrack uploaded to her system.” Keith was the one that actually prompted a continuation. “And?” “Aaaaaand the last time we were here, I found out that Blue has a sonic cannon on her back. One that she doesn’t mind using to, safely, play music for me.” Lance spread his arms wide. “Isn’t that cool?” “Just get to training,” Allura sighed, shaking her head and turning to head for Hunk. “Pidge, Keith, come with me so that we don’t get caught in the crossfire if this ends up bigger than expected.” Lance grinned before they’d even managed to move, slipping his still-wet hands up into the gaps of their helmets. His hands were fucking freezing. “You asshole!” Keith yelped, stumbling away. “Don’t do that!” “Lance, what the hell?” Pidge demanded. Lance wiggled his fingers in a goodbye, smiling. “See you in a few minutes!” Keith wondered if this was what life was just going to be like going from here. …he was going to need more Altean sweaters.

The horizon was inky black when the train finally arrived in the village of Hogsmeade. The cloudless sky was alight with stars, making it resemble a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. During the ride, Daphne had done her level best to quiz Thea in all things magic, quickly becoming rather irritated when it became obvious that Thea knew marginally more than she did. Her wrath was only pacified by Thea’s offer of buying four of everything on the snack trolley and giving her share to Daphne as an offering of peace and submission. Tracey’s approving, if frantic, nod while Daphne’s back was turned served as a forewarning to Thea: beware the wrath of Greengrass women. Tracey had proven herself to be a constant source of noise, whether it be nonsensical chatter or surprisingly shrewd insights. When she noted that Thea’s curse scar remarkably resembled a Sowilo rune – a marker of victory, power, and good fortune – Thea had been speechless, before smiling widely and agreeing fully. Theo, while a nearly silent companion at the best of times, showed his hidden colors as he added bits of commentary to the conversation at uneven intervals. Knowledge of an obscure spell here, the exact date a piece of legislation passed in the Wizengamot there, and everything in between. Thea felt herself both confused and enamored by his apparent magical trivia expertise, and wondered if there were game shows in the wizarding world that he could go on, if only to duly embarrass anyone else who dared compete against him. This routine kept up from the moment the four introduced themselves until the moment they exited the train, and as they strode quickly from the platform and toward a clearing at the edge of the nearby forest, where the sodden grounds met the muddy bank of the lake, Thea wondered if the sorting would ruin her chances at keeping friends. When they arrived at the docks on the far side of the Black Lake, the change in behavior from her three new friends was as jarring as it was anticipated. It seemed that Daphne and Tracey, along with most of the pureblood heirs, knew one another from early childhood, raised together in specific social circles. It reminded Thea of the dangers of cliques in muggle schools, and they behaved exactly as she expected them to. Around others, Daphne became cold and emotionless, though Thea had the sneaking suspicion that that was due to discomfort in crowds rather than ambivalence. Theo became even more withdrawn and silent, something she didn’t think was possible. Tracey, however, became even louder, drawing attention to herself willingly and proudly. Well, more power to her. The sight of Hogwarts Castle, the thousands of windows glittering in the inky night sky, stalwart towers like spears in the air, against the backdrop of a massive forest and gleaming lake, was like something from a book. It was truly magnificent, and Thea could barely contain her excitement as she, Theo, Daphne, and Tracey took their boat and floated across its reflective surface. Hagrid the half-giant groundskeeper (“He must be at least fifteen feet tall!” Tracey shouted) led them all from the docks and up into the castle proper, loitering around the hall. The interior was warm and welcoming, the stone walls lined with portraits and landscapes, all constantly in motion. The portrait subjects shouted and garnered attention as they recognized descendants or distant relations. At long last, when a severe-looking woman who could only be Professor McGonagall introduced herself and told them that the Sorting would be taking place shortly, the large group of children grew silent. “Don’t overthink it,” she told a rapidly spiraling Tracey. “Just be yourself, and you’ll go where you’re meant to.” Thea heard the mutterings of random bits of misinformation, things like fighting trolls and a test of magic, and while she was certainly glad that none of those things could possibly be true, she did notice that a shorter girl with bushy brown hair had overheard what she’d told Tracey and smiled at her reassuringly. She lifted a thumb up to the girl and straightened her shoulders noticeably, heartened when the girl shyly smiled back with a nod, doing the same. Professor McGonagall interrupted a rather nice showing out from the Hogwarts ghosts, and while that was disappointing, she was ecstatic at the prospect of coming home. The Great Hall was packed to the brim with people. Each of the four tables were lined with students of all ages, all wearing black robes trimmed with one of fours colors. Green and red lined the walls, with the blue and yellow bordering the middle aisle where the professor led the group of first years. At the head of the Hall, a long table stood resolute and perpendicular to the students. And at the center of that table sat the man – the only man – that Thea could say she actively hated. Albus Dumbledore was old as dirt, she realized. Bordering on geriatric, really. He looked like he was about a thousand years old, though she admitted that his beard was certainly impressive. And the kindly exterior was a fantastically effective front. Andromeda and the goblins had informed her otherwise, of course, and she wouldn’t be fooled for a moment that he was anything less than a shrewd and calculating leader. But she could see how people could be thrown off the scent of a perfectly good trail by his demeanor and appearance. She allowed herself a moment of sympathy. The man had been through a lot, she was sure. No one grew that old without seeing things they rather wouldn’t have. But he had also abandoned her a hell on earth that she didn’t deserve, and apparently forgotten her. Albus Dumbledore would answer to her, eventually. It was inevitable. Professor McGonagall made a show of placing a tattered old hat on a stool in front of the entire school and their grandmothers. A bit anticlimactic, Thea thought, but these wizarding types were an odd lot. And then the hat opened its mouth – mouth? – and began to sing. It was immediately one of the worst experiences of Thea’s young life. She wondered if there was a charm for removing memories she’d rather forget, and decided to write it down for later. The song was all propaganda and honeyed words, a speech on the merits of the four houses and their members. She could tell from the off that it meant nothing, as the houses were all an eclectic mix as far as she could tell. There were certainly some unsavory-looking types in the Slytherin table, but there were easily as many at the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables as well. The only ones who looked to be embodying their house traits to the full were the Hufflepuffs. Remembering her promise to Andy, Thea studied the house of badgers for sight of her cousin. Oh, and there she was, all pink hair and big, goofy smile and everything. She was staring right at Thea, waving madly with a grin on her face. Thea beamed and waved back, winking as she slowly turned the tips of her black hair pink to match Cousin Dora, who laughed loudly and sent her two thumbs up. When McGonagall began spouting off names, Thea looked back toward the front of the room patiently. Hannah Abbott was sorted into Hufflepuff, followed swiftly Terry Boot, who went to Ravenclaw. Susan Bones was another badger, Mandy Brocklehurst an eagle. Lavender Brown became the first Gryffindor of the night, her perfectly coiffed hair following in her wake like a river as she sauntered toward the red table. Millicent Bulstrode, a rather tall and broad girl, was the first Slytherin to be sorted. Michael Corner followed Boot to Ravenclaw, with Vincent Crabbe becoming another snake. “Davis, Tracey!” McGonagall shouted. Tracey nearly tripped up the stairs to the stool and slammed the poor old hat onto her head. It deliberated clearly, pursing its frayed lips, before…”SLYTHERIN!” Thea cheered with her newfound friends and clapped joyously while Tracey tossed the hat back onto the stool and punched a fist into the air. Faye Dunbar went to Gryffindor soon after, and a tall muggleborn boy named Justin Finch-Fletchley joined the Hufflepuff table. Thea ignored the next few sortings, until McGonagall called out the name of the bushy haired brunette from earlier, a girl named Hermione Granger. The girl heaved out a sigh and strode confidently to the hat. After a few silent minutes, wherein people began to whisper about the girl being a ‘hat-stall’, the sorting hat eventually straightened out and shouted, “RAVENCLAW!” Immediately afterward, Daphne was sorted into Slytherin, and Thea was allowed to drift back into her fugue state of hungry boredom for a few more minutes. She began to notice that people were staring at her, rather rudely, and she started staring back at them, unblinking, until they looked away. The only two to hold her gaze completely and without flinching were a pair of red-haired twins at the Gryffindor table. They, at least, were unashamed in their interest. They merely smiled widely and in a way she knew meant nothing good and went back to whatever they had to have been scheming. A few minutes later, her cousin Draco took the school record for fastest sorting ever, thrown unceremoniously and without a doubt into Slytherin before the fabric even touched his perfectly styled blonde locks. Theo followed him there shortly after, his sorting nearly as quick. And then, a few people and houses later, her time came. “Potter, Dorothea!” Professor McGonagall declared. The entire Hall went silent as she approached the stool, picking up the hat and plopping it onto her head, crossing her legs primly as she took a seat. ‘Ah, well, hello there, Miss Potter,’ it spoke into her mind. ‘It’s not often that I come across someone who knows exactly where they wish to go.’ ‘Well, I’m determined,’ she told it. ‘Indeed, you are that, and in spades. I would say that Ravenclaw would be suited for you, but now I’m not so sure.’ ‘What changed your mind?’ ‘Oh, you remind me far too much of a young man I met many years ago,’ the hat said, his tone grave. ‘He too knew exactly where he wanted to go. And even now, your magic is so familiar, almost exactly like his. Ah, and what’s this? A parselmouth, too, eh?’ ‘Bastien is my best friend,’ she said defensively. ‘I know where I’m meant to go, Mr. Hat. If we could hurry this up?’  ‘The impatience of foolish youth…I would have suggested Slytherin in any case, but knowing of your familiar cinches it, I’m afraid.’ ‘Well, go on then.’ ‘Don’t rush me, girl, it’s all for show.’ “Well, if you’re sure,” she heard the hat say aloud. “Better be…SLYTHERIN!” One could hear a pin drop in the pervasive and encompassing silence that surrounded her sorting, and for the briefest moment she considered that she might have made a mistake in her decision to sort herself into the house of snakes. But then, a noise caught her attention as she took the hat off. It started as a clinking of goblets on a table, but it slowly picked up pace and volume until the entirety of Slytherin house was hanging their goblets and cheering as she approached the table. She smiled widely and bowed low to her new housemates before taking a seat next to Daphne, ecstatic. As the sorting continued, she noticed the keen gaze of Albus Dumbledore out the corner of her eye. The old man was staring her down, for all the world looking like nothing more than a disappointed grandfather. Thea wondered if he now thought her evil and wicked in the way most people treated the house of snakes. She had no sympathy for him to spare, too overjoyed that she was where she belonged. Ronald Weasley went to Gryffindor, plopping down in a seat amongst the gaggle of his ginger siblings, and Blaise Zabini joined the Slytherin table, nodding to Theo and Daphne as he took his seat across from them. With the Sorting finally finished and their stomachs grumbling, the headmaster stood and opened his arms wide, beaming at his new students. “Welcome, welcome!” he cheered. “I have a few words before we get on with our feast, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” With a flourish, the tables filled with foods of all sorts and occasions. Steaks, roast chicken and lamb, potatoes of all make, and vegetables that Thea had never seen before. Not put off her appetite in the least, Thea tucked in and grabbed a bit of everything. Her table manners were drilled in at a young age, but she was too starved to really care overmuch. And the food was simply too delicious. Within scant minutes, she had filled herself to the brim, satisfied and tired. When dessert was served, though, she lamented her poor choices, staring longingly at the treacle tart as it slowly disappeared. At long last, when the feast concluded, Dumbledore stood once more. “I have a few start of term notices to give out before we all retire to the safety and warmth of our beds,” he orated, while Thea squinted her eyes to see if his beard moved at all when he spoke. It didn’t. “First years will note that the forest at the edge of the grounds is forbidden to all students. Some of our older students would do well to remember that as well. Alas, I must inform you that the third-floor corridor on the left-hand side is restricted to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Well, that’s all, off you go! Pip pip!” With furrowed brows, Thea stood along with her house and trailed off behind a few of the older students. To a dark-haired girl with a shiny badge that held the letter ‘P’ on it, she sighed and shook her head. “He’s mad, isn’t he?” “Who, Dumbledore?” the girl asked, looking back at the staff table. “As a hatter.” “Lovely.” The girl laughed, waving the students through. “Alright, you lot! Follow me, and don’t get lost! The dungeons can be a bit like a maze.” The girl with the badge led the first year Slytherins away from the Great Hall and off into a side chamber, where shallow stairs trailed down and curved along what felt like the base of a tower. The stone in the deep was cool and appeared to be somewhat wet. After a few minutes’ walk, they came upon a thick ebony wood door, emblazoned with a carving of a serpent. “This door is the main entrance to the Slytherin Common Room,” the girl announced. “We change passwords biweekly, and you’ll always be informed when they do. If you forget the password, you’ll simply have to wait for someone to show up and let you in.” She approached the door and whispered: “Ophiophagus hannah.” The door creaked open and the girl waved them all inside. The Slytherin common room was all dark stone and eerie green light. Long, green, suede couches lined the walls and formed separate boxes on either end, and plush armchairs surrounded a large fireplace in the center, an unwavering fire glowing in its maw. On the mantel rested two massive trophies, one gold and one silver. Shelves lined the walls, each holding various jars and vases filled with ingredients and plants that seemed to grow perfectly well despite the lack of sunlight. From three long, tapered windows, shimmering green light filtered through, and Thea thought she saw creatures and fishes swimming past. In dawned on her then that the common room must’ve been beneath the lake on the grounds. There, in the middle of the room, stood Professor Snape. His thick black cloak seemed to envelop him completely in the low light. His impassive sneer was absent, given way to an expression almost like a smile. It threw Thea off balance. In a world where Severus Snape smiled, any and all manner of dark, eldritch things were possible. “Welcome, all of you, to Slytherin,” he spoke, voice low and even. “I am Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and your Head of House. You have been chosen, selected as a precious few amongst the others, to lead us into greatness. Slytherin has hosted some of the most celebrated and lauded witches and wizards ever to grace these halls. We are the house of determination and guile, ambition and cunning. I am sure you will do us all credit, because I will accept nothing less. Your prefects for the year are Miss Fawley here,” he gestured to the girl with the ‘P’ badge, “and Mr. Warrington.” “Right, you lot,” Fawley spoke up. “A few rules at the outset: first, all disputes are handled in house. The entire school will be against you simply because you’re wearing green and silver. Don’t give them reason to believe you are anything but a unified front. You have a bone to pick with a fellow snake? Wait until you’re back in the common room. Second: like the professor said, Slytherin is the house of ambition and cunning. Act like it. Your grades and conduct are a reflection on the prefects and Professor Snape himself. We won’t hesitate to assign detentions or remedial studies if you fall behind. Self-study is the name of the game here. You will flourish or flounder on your own merits.” “Very well said, Fawley,” Snape droned. “Now, it’s late and I’m sure you’re all very tired. The first-year dormitories are on the first landing. Girls on the right, boys on the left. I will see you all in the morning at breakfast, where I will hand out schedules. Good evening.” As he left, the two prefects remained rooted in their spots, their eyes glinting over the new students calculatingly. “Now that the Professor’s gone, I want to get something out of the way,” Warrington said. “I know some of you have probably heard unsavory things about this house – that it’s a breeding ground for dark wizards and witches, that all snakes are rotten, or any number of other vile things. I’m here to tell you that that simply isn’t true. Here we celebrate excellence in all its forms.” “He’s right,” Fawley cut in. “but here’s the thing: everyone out there will treat you as if it’s true. They will attack you verbally, insult you or your families…some might even try to hex you if you aren’t careful. Neither of us expect any of you to take that lying down, and if we or the other prefects are around, they’ll handle it. But if they aren’t –” “If they aren’t, don’t get caught,” Warrington finished. “The Golden Rule of Slytherin.” “Alright,” Fawley said after a moment. “Any questions? No? Good. Girls, follow me.” Thea was in a sort of trance following the professor’s speech and the unwritten rules of Slytherin, ears ringing and eyes wide at the command and presence that Professor Snape seemed to demand from any who listened to him. To have that kind of effect on people, to have them eating from the palm of your hand, was something that Thea envied very much. Fawley led the girls to their dorm rooms, a humongous circular chamber that held five wooden four-post beds, draped in emerald sheets and silver blankets. Thea found hers, sandwiched between Daphne and Tracey, on the right side of the room. Her trunk and belongings were already sat at the foot of the bed. Forgoing the niceties of conversation for the evening, Thea grabbed a set of pajamas and changed quickly, desperate to climb into bed and get some much-needed rest. Her dreams came as unbidden visions, scenes of spellfire and screaming. Harsh, cold laughter and sickly green light, the desperate begging of a young woman, and the babbling cries of a young child. A great black dog traipsing behind her as she ran, and a massive white stag standing before her, its beady black eyes discerning and shrewd. At the end, when everything seemed to catch up to her all at once, a voice whispered in her ear. “Great things, Miss Potter. For good or ill.” When she awoke it was with a shock and drenched in sweat. The low green light from the lake filtered in, but from the light breathing and odd snores, it seemed to be still late. As her breathing evened out, Thea remembered less and less of her odd dreams. A few minutes later, sleep took her once more, and it was peaceful and without issue. When she awoke once more, hours later with the rest of her dorm-mates, she had forgotten the nightmare entirely.

Beca Mitchell stands outside the door for apartment 201 and knocks gently. She isn’t entirely sure how she has ended up there, dressed in a passably professional outfit and nervously revising all the things her mom taught her about making a good first impression. The girl she had been emailing with had been friendly and open and, when she had asked if she was available to come and see the apartment that evening, the word ‘no’ hadn’t even crossed her mind.    Besides, it wasn’t like Beca had any other plans.    “Hi.” The door opens to reveal one of the most attractive women Beca has ever seen. She is objectively pretty, with high cheekbones and a button nose and enticingly bright blue eyes. Her red hair falls in gentle waves, brushing against her shoulders, contrasting against the stone-coloured sweater she is wearing. “You must be Beca. I’m Chloe. Come in.”   It makes sense that the girl behind the emails would be this cheerful in person. The woman is like actual sunshine.    “So, this is Aubrey and Amy. Do… do you want us to show you around?”   “Sure. Do you want me to take my shoes off or anything?”   Chloe shakes her head. “No, you’re good. Alright, so this is the kitchen. We all have cupboards for our own food but we share plates and bowls. And, well, to be honest we tend to cook together a lot but that’s up to you. There’s a shelf each in the fridge and a drawer each in the freezer. Ah, what else to tell you?” Chloe’s eyes keep being drawn back to Beca. “There’s a microwave, toaster, oven, gas stove and- oh- we got a coffee machine on Black Friday last year. We all pay in a little each month and buy the pods in bulk because it’s cheaper. Actually, we have a fund which covers a lot of universal items like cleaning products, laundry powder and toilet paper. Once a month or so we just do a Costco run in an Uber.”   “Smart.”   Beca suddenly feels herself being pushed into the space beside the kitchen by one of the other girls.    “And this is the living room. I won’t go into as much detail as Chloe because it’s fairly obvious that you’ve got two working eyes and a rudimentary understanding of how houses work.”    She realises in that moment that she has barely paid any attention to either of the blonde women. The girl speaking to her has a twang to her voice. It takes a second for Beca to realise she is Australian.   “Cable’s included in the utilities. Which is covered by the rent.” The other blonde seems a little more snippy. ‘Fun’ isn’t exactly the word that comes into Beca’s mind when she looks at her. “Do you have any references?”   Beca pauses. The ad hadn’t mentioned references. “I, ah, I didn’t know you’d need any. But I can get you something in writing if you need it? Or I can give you the contact details for my boss if you think it’s necessary?”   It is hard to pretend not to notice the silent, eyes-only conversation going on behind her. Beca spots the pleading expression on the redhead’s face and the way her lips fall into a slight frown when the sharp blonde glares back. At least Beca appreciates the way the Australian girl seems to be glancing between them both as if to say, “she’s right there, guys.”   “Do… would you mind showing me the room? That’s kind of the biggest thing I need to see.”   “Oh!” Chloe seems to come to her senses. “Of course. Follow me.”   The redhead leads Beca up a set of wooden steps and down a corridor. “This is Amy’s room here, and this opposite is the main bathroom. There is also a half bath- just a toilet and a sink- behind the kitchen.” Chloe pushes open the door to the bathroom. “We try and take it in turns to clean but the general agreement is that we just clean up our own mess as we go. There isn’t, like, a rota or anything.”   “Cool.” Beca is surprised. She can’t help but imagine that the snippy blonde is just the type to love a chore chart of some kind. One which she could use to boss people around. As she follows Chloe around the corner, she spots the open door.   “So, this is the room. Sorry about the smell of paint. I only finished it this morning. I… I don’t think it will be ready to move into for at least a few more days. Just in case it needs another coat or whatever. Anyway, I, ah, I’ll leave you to look around. We’ll be in the living room. Come find us when you’re done.”   Beca looks around the room. It is a fairly good size, definitely bigger than the room she lives in at the moment. The first thing she does is work out where the power outlets are. That is one of her main issues with her current place; the desk is in entirely the wrong place and her floor is littered with extension cables to get her equipment to work. This room would work for her. The closet is a nice addition. Beca doesn’t have too many clothes, but there would be space for everything.    For the price, it is a steal. A nice apartment in a good area of Manhattan, three good roommates and one of them had even gone to the trouble to paint the walls.    She can’t help but wonder if there is a catch. Her curiosity piques as she walks back towards the living room, where the three girls are talking in muted whispers.    “Look, I don’t disagree, I just… she might be a little too alternative for me.”   “Because she has a tattoo? Aubrey, I have three.”   “Hi.” It feel incredibly uncomfortable to be the one to break the silence, but Beca doesn’t have a choice. “I… I really like the room, but I do have a couple questions.”   “So do we.”   “Go ahead Beca.” There is something really intriguing about the redhead taking charge of the conversation. There is something about the way it makes her feel. Beca tries her best to push it down as she thinks back to the questions she had wanted to ask.   “The first is a practical one I guess. I… I have a mini fridge that I keep in my room. I just wanted to check that would be ok? I’m happy to pay more towards utilities if it costs too much to run, but it’s kind of a necessity.”   “We could certainly get that written into a contract. I don’t see a problem. Anyone else?”    Chloe and Amy shake their heads at Aubrey.    “Anything else?”   Beca scrunches her nose slightly. “It’s just, I guess in the spirit of openness and honesty since you guys know a little about me already, I was wondering if you could tell me why the room is available and what happened to the wall?”   Amy sits up and opens her mouth, but is pushed back by Chloe. Beca is disappointed. She kind of wanted to hear Amy’s version. It would probably be the most truthful. “The girl we lived with before was, ah, going through some stuff. She’s alright now, though. She’s just…”   “She had a psychotic break. She painted the walls with messages to her unborn twin. Or was it her undead twin? Actually, maybe she said she ate her?” Amy waves her hand in dismissal. “It was always very difficult to understand her. But it was definitely something to do with a twin.”   “Jesus. Is she alright?”   “She’s in the hospital. Her parents sent for her stuff and we donated all the hamsters she was keeping to the ASPCA. She’ll be fine.”       “So, Beca. Can I ask where you live now and why you’re looking for a new place?”   Beca nods and brushes her mousy hair behind her ear. “Yeah. I mean, I moved to the city for work about 6 months ago. I’d been in LA for about 3 years and I got promoted on the condition I moved to our partner label. It’s more my speed out here so I agreed. Anyway, I didn’t know if I’d want to say long term, so I took short-term leases every couple months. I’m currently sharing a tiny apartment with a girl called Kimmy Jin. It’s fine but we have absolutely nothing in common and there just isn’t any space or privacy. And, well, I decided I’d start looking for something more long-term today and I saw your ad.”   “And you work in music?”   “Yeah. I’m a producer.” It is hard not to smile. The new title, the real job without the word ‘associate’ in front of it, is everything Beca has been working towards since she skipped Washington for California when she finished high school.    “Wow. I mean, I knew you worked for a label, but that’s so cool. Have you worked with anyone we’d know?” Chloe’s enthusiasm feels infectious.    “Well, in LA I worked on a few projects. It was mainly new artists, but I did get studio time with Snoop Dogg. Oh, and last week I got to sit in on Katy Perry’s session while she was in town. The sound engineer let me work at the desk which was cool.”   “Serious? Katy Perry?” Amy turns to the other girls. “Can we just give her a key now please?”   “I mean, I’m happy to… to agree to that. If we’re all happy?” It is impossible to miss the way Chloe’s eyes fix on Aubrey.    “Sure. Subject to references of course. From two trusted sources. And you’ll need to sign a formal contract. And pay a security deposit and first month’s rent in advance.”   “Of course.”   Before she knows it, Beca is wrapped in a firm hug by a bouncing redhead. “Welcome, roomie!”

'Operation: Love Strike Redux' gets divided into three phases and finalized over the weekend. Early Monday morning, Jimin and Taehyung are stationed in the parking lot, watching the front entrance.  Mornings are never Jimin's favorite. He always forgets to eat, he always feels like he's in a rush, and his morning commutes are always annoying. But mornings are tolerable when he's spending it with Taehyung, the two of them lounged back in the seats of Taehyung's car, swapping sips of iced americano while quiet jazz plays softly in the background.  Jimin doesn't consider himself a 'schemer', because 'schemes' are inherently bad, and Park Jimin only does Good Things. But, if he was a schemer (which he totally isn't ), he wouldn't want anyone else as his partner in crime than Taehyung.  The skies are purple and peach-colored, clouds thin and hanging low. Jimin is wrapped up in a striped cardigan and an ugly green polo because Madame Seo predicts that the color green will positively influence their stocks. In between sips of his iced americano, he writes his notes down on his yellow notepad.  4 am, Jeon Jeongguk still has not arrived. 5 am, Jeon Jeongguk still has not arrived. 6 am, Jeon Jeongguk  still  has not arrived. "Do you want me to run and get you something from Holly's Coffee?" Taehyung asks Jimin when Jimin's stomach loudly announces itself during the piano solo crackling through the radio speakers. "It's down the street. I'm sure we're not going to miss him if we're gone for a few minutes." Jimin holds his arms tighter across his midsection. "No. I can't afford to miss Jeongguk. I'm going to be too busy to talk to him otherwise. I have two meetings to dictate for, and VP Kim needs to have his travel plans finalized and also I need to check the order lists for supplies around the office and–" "Babe," Taehyung cuts off, resting a firm hand on Jimin's knee. "Okay, see. This is what I'm talking about. We've been sitting here for three hours, and you're starving yourself and worrying about work. Can't you just, close your eyes and not think about business for two seconds?" Taehyung asks. He has his lower lip out in a pout, and Jimin wishes he could pout right back at him, pushing the both of them into a stubborn stalemate. But Taehyung has perfected and weaponized his pouts. This pout (Pout Number 9 if Jimin allows himself to look) has earned Taehyung a diamond ring off of his ex's grandmother's wrinkled finger in the past. Jimin sighs, a hard push of air from his lungs. Haaaaaaaaaaah. "I'm fine," Jimin insists, squeezing his stomach. "Besides, I'll be ready to go into the office in another hour, so we'll be–" His words fall away from his lips, eyes focusing on a car slowly rolling its way through the parking lot. Taehyung sits upright in alarm, too, though when the car passes them to park in the VP spot, Jimin rolls his eyes and slumps back in his chair. "Is that your boss?" Taehyung asks, eying the car and the shiny rims. "No, it's that tool I talked to you about," Jimin says, huffing in annoyance as Seokjin steps out of his car, adjusting his green velvet tie and smoothing a hand over the front of his grey blazer. Taehyung looks at Seokjin, then at Jimin, eyebrows rising so high they could have escaped into his hairline. "That's the tool?" Taehyung questions. Seokjin throws a curious glance over at their car. The windows are tinted, so it's not like Seokjin can see them (especially through the fog). Still, Jimin slumps down lower, cheeks red and irritated.  "Yeah, that's him." "...But he's hot?" Jimin clicks his tongue. "He's a tool." "Jiminie, he's so your type," Taehyung says, staring in wonder as Seokjin grabs his suitcase from out the backseat and locks his car with his fob. Seokjin strolls in front of their car towards the building's front entrance, throwing another curious glance at them before he disappears inside. "Why is he here so early?" Jimin questions aloud. "Maybe he's here to get some work done?" Taehyung suggests with a shrug. "He doesn't have a meeting until eight when VP Kim arrives. There is no reason for him to be here at this hour. Who does he think he is? Just… showing up." Not only showing up but showing up in a suit and tie with his hair slicked back. Meanwhile, Jimin is thankful that VP Kim is lax on business casual for special ordinances like this. He didn't even have the chance to brush his hair with an actual brush before Taehyung picked him up. Taehyung turns towards Jimin with a knowing grin, resting a hand on Jimin's knee. "Babe, it's totally fine if you want to talk about how hot he is with me," Taehyung says, not even a teasing tone to his words. "He's not my type!" Jimin snaps, furiously unbuckling his seatbelt. "And if he thinks he can arrive to work earlier than me just so he can rub it in my face, he has another thing coming–" "Wait, what about the guy?" Taehyung asks, watching Jimin rush to grab his messenger bag and yank his phone out from where he had it charging in Taehyung's armrest.  "Just message me when you see him, write down the time and what his car looks like. I'll follow up once I'm at my desk," Jimin says in a rush, throwing open the car door as he scrabbles his way out. Taehyung watches Jimin fast walk to the front doors, morning chill making his nose pink and a little snotty. Fixing his hair one last time in the glass door's reflection, Jimin enters the office lobby.  He doesn't make it far, seeing as though Seokjin is at the security desk with eyes trained on the door, like he was waiting for Jimin to make his arrival. "So you're the one that was in that suspicious-looking car, Park Jimin-ssi," Seokjin says with a lazy drawl of his tongue. He turns his nose up at Jimin, and Jimin returns the gesture, turning his nose up and continuing to the elevator. Seokjin is hot on his heels, carrying a smell of dark roasted coffee and Dior. Jimin grinds his teeth. Why does Seokjin always have to smell so nice in the morning? Why can't he just smell like deodorant and soap like everyone else?  Asshole. "Sungduk-ssi was about to phone the police. You know we've been having some less than favorable people lurking around the parking lot," Seokjin tells Jimin loudly. Jimin begins to repeatedly jab his thumb into the elevator button, and Seokjin watches him. The moment the doors slide open, both of them fight to be the first ones to get inside. Jimin only wins by knocking Seokjin into the door with his hip. He takes his victories (no matter how dirty) wherever he can. "For your information, my best friend dropped me off," Jimin explains in a huff. "You and your 'best friend' sat there in the parking lot since 4 am?" Seokjin questions.  "We were catching up. Talking. Having coffee. I know it's hard for you to imagine what having friends is like, but it's nothing to bother Sungduk over," Jimin says with a pitying frown. Seokjin clicks his tongue against his teeth, crossing his arms over his chest. "Friend, huh?… Wouldn't happen to be that blond friend of yours that helped you get Chief Woo fired, would it?" Seokjin asks.  "What, did Madame Seo whisper that in oppa's ear last night?" Jimin mocks, reveling in how Seokjin's ears immediately turn red hot. Turning back towards the door, Jimin responds, "He's my friend, and that's all you need to know about him. I'm not here to talk about personal matters. I'm here to work." "Really," Seokjin says, dry. "Yeah…why are you here?" Jimin then asks. Seokjin adjusts his tie. "…VP Kim forgot that he had some red flowers in his office. Madame Seo predicted red would lead to our stocks tanking, so he asked me to remove them before it could taint someone's weak aura," he calmly explains. Jimin looks at Seokjin over his shoulder, studying him with a cross expression. "…Why would he ask you to do it when  I  could do it?" Jimin questions. "Because he didn't want to force you out of bed and make you take an earlier train just to remove a stupid little flower from his desk. I was already out, I said I could do it, so here I am." Seokjin shrugs like there is nothing more to it. Except there has to be more to it because this is Kim Seokjin, and he doesn't just…do things like this.  Jimin scoffs in disbelief. "Yeah, right. You were probably just so smug to yourself on your drive. 'Ah, Park Jimin-ssi is slumbering away while I get to get in with VP Kim's good favor.'" Jimin says, twirling an invisible mustache.  Seokjin doesn't have an immediate response.  Jimin does not like these long pauses that Seokjin has been giving, where he just stares at Jimin with the blankest of expressions. Jimin likes attention when he's doing something awesome, like presenting to the board or looking sexy. This kind of attention that Seokjin is giving…Seokjin, in general, giving him attention is just…weird. Even weirder is that rather than giving a snarky remark, Seokjin takes a step towards Jimin. Jimin immediately spins on his heels, his back towards the door as Seokjin crowds him. "W-What are you doing? Stop it. I have a knife," Jimin quickly rambles. Heat begins burning his chest and rising up to his throat. Seokjin's eyes flicker down to the hard bob of Jimin's throat before moving back up to Jimin's trembling pupils. "One, carrying a concealed weapon is against company policy. As your superior, I should report you. But, since I know you're being weird—" "I'm not being weird—" "—I'll move on to my second point, which is, do you really think that I just spend every single moment of my life  outside of work  thinking of ways to make you miserable?" Seokjin asks with a disbelieving smile, bracing one arm above Jimin's head as he leans in. "I know it's hard for you to believe that the sun and moon and stars don't revolve around your pretty blond head, but I do have a life that doesn't involve work. You should try it sometime." Seokjin has minty-vanilla breath. There's not even a little bit of toothpaste at the corners of his lips. Jimin hates how conscious he is now that there might be some at the corners of his own mouth. It's not fair. Jimin is a Good Person. He should be the one to wake up beautiful and smell nice and well-dressed, not Seokjin. Stupid, stupid, stupid Seokjin. The elevator doors chime, and Seokjin gives Jimin his space, taking a lackadaisical stroll into the empty office floor. "Well, are you going to show me how much better you are at getting rid of a silly little flower, Park Jimin-ssi?" Seokjin calls out to him. Jimin exits the elevator, knuckles white as he grips the strap of his messenger bag. His stomach is warm, and his cheeks sting. An unsettled ache trembles down his spine. Can't you go for two seconds without thinking about business, Park Jimin? Can't you have a  life  outside of work, Park Jimin? Jimin feels the tips of his fingers shaking. Why is he shaking? Why is the ground rattling from under his feet? Why do his ears feel so so hot?   It clicks just as his stomach does an uncomfortable turn and flop, tangling itself within his guts.  He's embarrassed. Jimin clutches his bag tighter, wrapping one arm around his stomach and furiously yelling in his head for his body to stop freaking out. Seokjin says things. Seokjin says a lot of dumb things. Why is Seokjin the only one who can say these stupid, dumb things that make Jimin feel so…stupid and dumb? He hates feeling stupid and dumb. His stomach flops again, and his cheeks are burning. He feels the heat rising to the sides of his temples, his ears inflamed. And for the icing on the cake, the tips of Seokjin's feet come quickly into Jimin's view as he doubles over and holds his stomach in a tight vice.  "What's wrong? Are you okay?" Jimin hears Seokjin frantically ask, his firm hand grabbing Jimin by his shoulder to steer him towards a chair to sit down. Jimin fights out of Seokjin's grasp and makes a beeline down the hall, charging headfirst into the bathrooms and hooking a sharp right into the first available stall.  Once upon a time in high school, Jimin had gotten so embarrassed by a flubbed history presentation that he threw up the moment he sat back down in his chair. Since then, Jimin has found himself being calm when sitting in a bathroom. At least then, if he has to throw up, there's a toilet available.  The bathrooms in the office are kept relatively clean. There are seat covers and rolls of toilet paper fully stocked, and the smell of urinal cake doesn't further turn Jimin's stomach as he takes in a few calming breaths and tries to shake the nerves out of his fingers. It's okay, it's fine. Kim Seokjin said something stupid, but who cares? Jimin can handle him. Jimin does have a life outside of work. Jimin hangs out with Taehyung outside of work! They've talked extensively over the weekend about what look they should give Jeongguk for his Cinderella makeover, sifting through magazines and online slideshows. Then, they curled up together on Jimin's couch and watched rom-com after rom-com, analyzing the 'ugly' leads' makeover montages and having their romantic slow-motion reveal. Jimin can't remember much about what happened in those movies, but he watched them, which amounts to something. Jimin…likes to read outside of work! On Sunday, he went to the library to pick up books all about dating, matchmaking, and fortune-telling. Granted, he hasn't had a chance to actually read more than just the front and back covers, but since he does have a life outside of work, he's confident he'll eventually get around to reading them. Raising his hands to give a quick slap to his face, Jimin then starts working on his third example of having a life outside of work. His phone interrupts his thinking with a playful little ding, and Jimin reaches into his back pocket to watch as a small string of text messages from Taehyung begins to flow in one by one.       tae alert! alert!! jeongguk sighting!!! ok what car does he drive? nvmd the car! ?? jiminie he's a SUPER babe ??????? Taehyung sends Jimin a video clip. The angle is crooked, the camera lens barely seeing over the dashboard of Taehyung's car. Jimin can guess that Taehyung has the phone in his hands, but he also hears Taehyung chatting to someone in the background, giggling and laughing and 'oooh'ing at a muffled voice that sounds even further off.  With the camera's limited view, Jimin sees someone walking up to the building's front door.  Someone that can't be Jeongguk.  This someone is dressed in a grey tank top and basketball shorts, a backpack slung over their shoulder. Their physique is athletic, with beautiful sculpted calves and arms. One arm is completely covered in tattoos, all the way down to their knuckles. Just imagining someone like Jeongguk with tattoos like the person in the video is enough to make the sickness in Jimin's stomach disappear, his stomach now jittering with laughter and disbelief.        tae tae that is NOT jeongguk it is!!! ur security guard said it is are u talking to sungduk? what is he saying that has u so giggly? :/ he was going to call the cops on me for loitering but we've had a quick chat and it turns out i look like one of his favorite movie stars i almost didn't notice jeongguk until he was almost at the door. he moves fast Jimin bites his lip and furrows his eyebrows.        tae does sungduk usually see jeongguk come in at this time hang on i'll ask okay yea he says he comes in before anyone else does he also says he's kinda weird ?? weird like how? he says he never takes the elevator he gets here super early and takes the stairs all the way to ur office same thing coming down, the guy never uses the elevator Jimin thinks about the dread that came over Jeongguk's face as he walked into the elevator, the wash of color from his cheeks, and the trembling of his pupils as he forced himself into the corner and nearly took himself to the ground. He thinks about Jeongguk digging his heels in before Jimin could push him inside the elevator, the 'inconvenience' of having to leave and then come back to the office to clear out his aura, the ridiculously long coffee breaks.  They're on the thirtieth floor.  There's just no way.       tae how long ago was this? mmm like maybe five minutes ago okay I'll keep a lookout for him sure thing oh also do u want sungduk to bring u up some donuts ??? what? he's offering to buy me donuts do u want some? ... yea i guess :*         Eight-thirty is when more than five people are at the office: Namgin and CEO Kim arrive roughly around the same time, followed by Soohee, Changmin, and Donghyuk. Jimin waits in the bathroom until he hears Changmin stroll inside with his familiar humming. Peeking through the crack in the stall, Jimin watches Changmin, dressed up from head to toe in a forest-green suit, plant himself in front of the sink to continue fixing up his face before he clocks in. According to Changmin, it takes a lot of work being the only good-looking guy in HR.  Jimin exits the bathroom stall with renewed confidence, briefly checking over himself in front of the mirror next to Changmin and giving his face a few quick splashes of water. "You're here early, Park Jimin-ssi," Changmin drolls, dabbing on under eye concealer with his index finger. "Did you move into the broom closet?" "I had a thing to do for VP Kim," Jimin explains with a tight smile. Changmin shrugs, a good enough response for him, Jimin supposes.  Casually leaning against the sink, Jimin crosses his arms over his chest and asks, "Do you ever notice who comes into the office earlier than anyone else?" "Earlier than me?" Changmin asks. He hasn't once looked at Jimin directly. His eyes briefly flicker over to Jimin's reflection when addressing him before returning focus on his own as he touches up the area around his nose next. "There's that sweaty boy in marketing. Otherwise, no." Jimin bristles. "What do you know about the sweaty boy in marketing?" Jimin then asks. "I'm an HR assistant, not a sweaty boy tracker," Changmin says dryly. "He's at his desk before I arrive. That's all I know about him. You're better off asking his supervisor or Namgin if you want more details." Jimin makes a face. He really doesn't want to ask Namgin, and he doesn't know who is in marketing to figure out which one is Jeongguk's supervisor. Asking everyone might draw some unwanted attention his way from Seokjin. He'll have to think of a covert method to obtain intel. "Is he at his desk now?" Jimin asks. "Think so," Changmin mutters, looking tiredly at Jimin as he pulls out some green eyeshadow. "I'm trying not to look like a terrifying leprechaun in this ridiculous blazer, so if you mind, Jimin-ssi." Jimin bids Changmin farewell with a nod of his head, exiting the bathroom and heading straight towards the marketing area. Sure enough, the only people present are Namgin and Jeongguk, though it's clear that Jeongguk has long settled in his spot in front of his computer compared to Namgin, who is still unpacking documents and fixing up his coffee. Jeongguk's cubicle really isn't a cubicle. He doesn't have any dividers, and Jimin is sure that this desk falls outside of the area reserved for the marketing team anyways. His views consist of a grey wall, a grey pillar, and the hallway to the right that leads to the emergency stairwell. There's little to no color or personality decorating Jeongguk's area compared to the other desks Jimin glances at as he passes them by. Jimin feels his entire mood drop as he approaches Jeongguk's desk from behind. After mentally measuring the distance from Jeongguk's desk to VP Kim's office, Jimin already comes across one challenge to the plan. There's literally no reason why VP Kim would come this far over to the marketing area, and it wouldn't be feasible for Jeongguk to keep making trips over to VP Kim's office or the break room. He'll have to think of other opportunities and chances for their paths to 'coincidentally' cross. "Hey," Jimin quietly greets. Jeongguk turns, smiling kindly at Jimin.  “Oh, good morning, hyung,” Jeongguk greets. Jimin takes a brief moment to look over Jeongguk's features. Same sweaty hair, sweaty face, and disheveled wardrobe. He glances at both of his hands, both of them clean of any tattoos. Taehyung is forgiven for making his mistake, but Jimin can't figure out why Sungduk would get a muscled, tattooed jock mixed up with Jr. Marketing Strategist Jeon Jeongguk. Jeongguk gives a nervous little laugh. "Is there something wrong? You're kind of…looking at me with a funny face," Jeongguk points out innocently. "This is my normal face," Jimin says, cocking one hip to the side. "You're here very early, Jeongguk-ssi." "Oh, I like to get here as early as possible," Jeongguk explains with a nod. "I usually have a lot of work to catch up on, so I figure the earlier, the better." "Mmm…when did you arrive? I got to the office at six. I didn't see you in the lobby." Jeongguk visibly pales. "I…I um…" He balls his hands into tight fists resting on his thigh. Jimin notices a bit of foundation rubbing off on the inseam of Jeongguk's pants. Before Jimin has the chance to get a better look at Jeongguk's hand, there's another hand that roughly claps onto his shoulder and gives it a tight squeeze.  "Park Jimin-ssi," Namgin greets with a long drawl, "what are you doing over here in marketing? The workday hasn't even started. It's a little bit early to already be on our asses." Jimin yanks his shoulder out from Namgin's touch. "I'm just having a friendly chat with Jeongguk. Also, don't you have a meeting to prepare for?" Jimin curtly asks. Namgin chuckles, moving instead now over to Jeongguk. He rests his heavy hand on Jeongguk's shoulder and squeezes it tight. Jeongguk's lips purse into a tight line, and he begins wringing his hands together, averting his eyes as Namgin starts to speak. "Well, I will get started on finishing up that presentation. But I can't help but notice that the marketing team's space has not been set yet. Our papers haven't been printed out, the room hasn't been cleaned, and, most importantly, our breakfast and coffee have not been prepared. I certainly don't want VP Kim and CEO Kim to go hungry during my long and meticulously detailed meeting that you'll have to dictate for, Jimin-ssi. Ahhh, if only there was someone that would help me." Jeongguk bites his bottom lip. Namgin squeezes his shoulder tighter.  "… I'll…um…" Jeongguk glances at Jimin. Jimin nods his head, shooting Namgin a glare as Jeongguk averts his eyes back to the ground. "U-Um…sunbaenim, I was thinking…maybe, um, we could take turns setting up the meeting space? I have to finish my part of the presentation and—" " Your  part of the presentation?" Namgin asks, disbelief pulling his eyebrows down and twisting his lips. "So you're telling me that your insignificant part is far more important than making sure the meeting room is set properly? Do you think that you're the top dog now? That you don't need to put in extra work?" "N-No, I didn't—" "What about his part that is  so  insignificant to you that  you  can't just get the coffee, donuts, and papers, Namgin-ssi?" Jimin cuts in. "I—" "He just organizes the slides," Namgin cuts in before Jeongguk can get in a word. "Something that takes two seconds tops. Just two clicks of the button. Meanwhile,  I  collected all the data and spent hours looking over every single one of our sales and our spreadsheets and reading over everyone's contributions. All I'm asking for is a little bit of help setting up the meeting room? Is it a crime to ask for help, Park Jimin-ssi?" "He's not your gopher. You could ask someone else to prepare the meeting room," Jimin responds.  "Yahhh, why are you even in marketing anyways? Don't you have a crystal ball to look into for VP Kim?" Jimin's cheeks flare hot. "I already checked it. Outlook says you're being a dick." Namgin scoffs. "Takes one to know one," he responds curtly, looking over at Jeongguk. "Well? Knowing how slow you are, it'll take an hour or two for the conference room to be prepped. Get to it." Jeongguk squeezes his hands tight. Quietly, he gets up from his desk and grabs his wallet from his bag. "The muffin basket and danishes, got it? Also, juice and coffee with cream. Hot," Namgin reiterates, his tone loud and obnoxious and purposefully degrading. Jeongguk nods, briskly walking off towards the emergency stairwell. "The elevator is that way," Namgin calls out.  Jeongguk stops, turns, and quietly walks back, moving past Jimin and Namgin to head towards the elevators. Jimin turns to Namgin with a dirty look. "How could you talk to him like that? You're not even his supervisor." "But I'm Senior Marketing Strategist," Namgin states. "So I'm his boss just as much as Chief Kang is." Adjusting his green tie, Namgin turns up his nose. "So, if you'll excuse me, I have a presentation I need to prep for." Namgin rudely bumps Jimin as he turns to go back to his desk. Jimin scowls at him. Good People don't wish curses and misfortune will befall Shitty People, but Jimin still lets himself have this reprieve and thinks of all the nasty things he hopes will happen to Namgin. Gum sticking to the bottom of his shoe, hot coffee spilling on his lap, the works. Jimin heads back towards his desk. Jeongguk isn't at the elevators anymore, but there's another stairwell door close by. Curious, Jimin runs towards it.  He usually never enters the stairwell, not unless they're running safety drills. The stairwells are brightly lit, but they are plain. White walls and steel staircases with railings, metal pipes moving upwards towards infinity. Down below, Jimin hears the sound of someone hastily running down the stairs, the sound of their footsteps and hard breathing echoing in the space. With a resolute sigh, Jimin exits the stairwell back into the main office, throwing a glance over at the marketing corner where he sees Namgin with his feet on his desk, chatting away with someone on his cell phone. Operation: Love Strike doesn't have any room for particular deviations, but Jimin thinks he'll have to add a footnote somewhere when he gets off of work. Two donuts are waiting by his computer when Jimin returns to his desk, alongside a hot cup of tea and a handful of sugar packets. Jimin smiles as he takes his seat, first taking a quick snapshot of the sugar packet mountain to send to Taehyung with a laughing emoji.       tae u could have told sungduk that i only need three sugars ??? he didn't get u that tea ??? its next to my donuts tho? yea he got u the donuts but that's it he didn't even get ME a drink :/ said that id have to go get coffee with him later wow what a jerk how can u nOT have coffee with ur donuts?? i know right??? but does my jiminie have a secret admirer 0.o Jimin scoffs, eying the tea now with suspicion.       tae i should pour it out !! why???? cause its suspicious id trust it if it was from vp kim anyone else im not sure wow so r u saying that aside from vp kim and maybe jeongguk everyone in the office would rather poison u than be nice to u? ...im saying that i shouldn't take drinks without knowing where they came from :( ur gonna make ur secret admirer sad just give it a taste test or something don't throw the whole thing away :( Another cautious glance gets thrown at the tea. It looks like it was just recently prepared, steam rising in the air and tickling his nose. Smells like constant comment. Jimin didn't even know they had these tea packets. Usually, all the tea and coffee they have is whatever Keurig pods are crammed in the cabinets above the breakroom's sink. Jimin sighs and glances around, watching as bodies slowly filter in through the elevator, everyone giving their tired morning greetings. Jimin sees green hats, green scarves, green socks, and green ties. He glances at people already sitting down at their desks and beginning to work, no one coming to mind as to who could have prepared the tea for him. As Jimin's eyes pan right through the open door of Seokjin's office, Jimin catches Seokjin looking at him from over the top of his desktop monitor. Usually, Jimin would have his half divider up. He makes it a point to never make eye contact with Seokjin unless forced to, so the sudden eye contact now makes Jimin's heart leap into his throat. The effect must be similar for Seokjin since he immediately turns away and starts coughing into the side of his arm.  Once Jimin gets over with whatever the hell his body just did, he settles in his chair, eyes flickering back and forth from his tea to Seokjin. Tea, Seokjin, Seokjin, tea. Seokjin is more adamant at keeping his eyes on his computer now, but Jimin stares at him hard from across the room, feeling the heat on the back of his neck. Wordlessly, Jimin grabs his tea and quietly approaches Seokjin's office. The typing of keys grows louder as he peers his head inside, Seokjin hunching his shoulders up almost like he is trying to hide behind his computer and away from Jimin's prying eyes.  "…Kim Seokjin-ssi," Jimin calls out.  Seokjin stops mashing the keyboard and looks at him. His ears are red.  The question forms itself on Jimin's tongue, and it curls and spins in his mouth as he tightens his lips, pushing and pulling and trying to force itself out. Did you make this for me? He knows that's what he wants to ask, what he's curious about, why he's here now staring at Seokjin sitting behind his medium-sized desk with red ears and fast blinking eyes. But the question won't come out. Jimin's mouth won't let it. Why would Seokjin make him tea? Why would Seokjin make him tea unasked?  Jimin can't understand it, can't even picture it. His mind tries to rationalize the gesture, trying to diffuse the sudden burning in Jimin's gut.  He probably made this as a joke. It's probably super gross. Kim Seokjin doesn't do nice things like this. There has to be a reason. Some reason, any reason. Kim Seokjin wouldn't just be nice. Jimin swallows hard, sending his question to the back of his throat. He gestures with his tea. "Drink this," he blurts. Seokjin stares at him. "…What?" "Someone left this tea on my desk. It's suspicious, so I'm telling you to drink it," Jimin restates. Seokjin loudly scoffs, rolling his eyes and leaning back into his chair.  "You're so unbelievable," Seokjin says in disbelief.  Jimin frowns, placing a hand on his hip. "Well, excuse me for not wanting some random drink someone left on my desk—" "But you'll jump to the conclusion that someone did something to that drink versus just making you tea just to be nice?" Seokjin asks, far more annoyance in his voice than usual. The question regurgitates from Jimin's throat. Did you make this for me, Kim Seokjin-ssi? Jimin bites his lip hard and forces the question back down with another rough swallow.  "Then, if there's nothing wrong with it like you said, you should be fine taking the drink." Seokjin turns back to his computer screen. "Just pour it out if you're so paranoid about it," he mutters harshly under his breath. Jimin hesitates by the door, feeling unsettled by the tone of Seokjin's voice. He's heard what Seokjin sounds like when annoyed, but it never sounded like this. Tired and frustrated and sharp around the edges of his words like he wants them to cut Jimin deep.  Shifting his weight uncomfortably from left to right, Jimin looks down at the tea, brings it up to his face, and sniffs it. He brings it down, glances over at Seokjin, who is watching him, then looks back at the tea. "…Did you…" Jimin clears his throat. "Did you—" another hard clearing, a loud ah-HEM!  "Did you …did you…did you see who, um, left this?" "Does it matter?" Seokjin asks. "Someone did something nice and brought you tea to have with your donuts, and here you are in my office asking me to taste it like someone would go out of their way to make your life miserable for no reason and maybe  if you'd just stop and realize for a second that the entire world isn't out to get you and you'd just chill out for three seconds then maybe you'd realize when someone does a nice thing for you because they are just trying tobeniceandsaythey'resorryformakingyouupset!!"  Seokjin's entire face is red, the color disappearing into the collar of his shirt. By how bad Jimin's cheeks are stinging, he's sure he looks no better. Jimin looks down at his tea in his hands. Then, quietly, he takes a small sip. The liquid is warm and sweet, like someone already put his three sugars in to begin with. The taste of orange peel comes later, a tartness that does well in masking the bitter awkwardness sticking to the back of Jimin's throat.  Seokjin huffs, resuming his typing. "Look at that. You didn't explode," he says. Jimin huffs as well, not knowing what to do with himself. He leans against the door frame, now fighting for something else to look at other than Seokjin's red ears. Something to distract Jimin from the heat in his throat that burns stronger than the tea did going down.  Sitting tucked by Seokjin's foot is a small, red flower growing from a bed of smooth pebbles. Jimin remembers the flower now that he sees it. One of VP Kim's many plant children that he brought to work in the hopes that the positive energy and happiness they give him at home could somehow transfer onto whoever visits him in his office. "That's not 'removing 'the flowers from the office," Jimin points out. Seokjin clenches his jaw. "He loves this flower, and I'm not throwing it out because of some stupid ordinance," he mutters. "He barely comes into my office anyway. It'll be fine." "…Alright…" Jimin takes another small sip of his tea. He tries to find another thing to distract himself with. "…This place is dusty," Jimin blurts. He runs his hand over the doorframe and wipes his palm clean of invisible dust on his thigh. "You shouldn't work in such sloppy conditions, Kim Seokjin-ssi." "I'm sure there's a feather duster in the broom closet. Help yourself since it's clear you must not have a lot of work to be done," Seokjin responds without even glancing at Jimin. "I have a lot of work that needs to be done, for your information," Jimin says with an upturned nose. "Then hop to it, Park Jimin-ssi." "I will." "Okay." "Okay." "Goodbye." "Bye." Jimin hesitates in the doorway, then huffs and stomps away, taking small and flustered sips from his tea as he goes.             For the rest of his time, in between sending emails and reviewing the agenda for the upcoming meeting, Jimin thinks about Seokjin, and he thinks about Jeongguk.  Jeongguk hasn't returned to the office yet, undoubtedly exhausted from taking the stairs thirty flights down only to retake them when he returns. Jimin just can't fathom the reason as to why. Claustrophobia? Fear of elevators? Maybe just general anxiety to return back to his work area? Jimin can understand why. Someone as irritating as Namgin hanging around would make work unbearable. His thinking about Jeongguk would always lead to Jimin taking a sip of his tea to quench his throat, and then that would make him start thinking about Seokjin. Jimin really doesn't want to think about Seokjin. His body is still reacting funny to thoughts about Seokjin, heating up in various places until he's squirming uncomfortably in his seat and hastily trying to find another file to distract himself with.  Why would Seokjin make Jimin tea? Why would Seokjin make Jimin tea unasked?  He can't accept Seokjin being nice to him. That ruins the very foundation that their work relationship is based on. Kim Seokjin always tries to do everything better than Jimin, which means that Jimin has to work even harder to be better than Kim Seokjin.  God, does this mean that Jimin has to make Seokjin something even better than a cup of tea?  Arrrrrgh, stupid, stupid Kim Seokjin, Jimin thinks to himself, just before taking another sip of tea and throwing himself back into typing up VP Kim's memo. Jeongguk returns to the office thirty minutes before the scheduled meeting time, exiting the emergency stairwell by his desk. Jimin is fast enough to catch him slipping into the conference room unnoticed. Putting his current task on hold, Jimin gets up from his desk and briskly walks over to the conference room with his tablet tucked into the crook of his arm.  Inside the conference room, Jeongguk is hastily trying to set up the coffee and food station in the corner, the long table in the center covered with a sprawl of papers that are not organized into neat stacks. Jimin closes the conference door behind him, causing Jeongguk to immediately stop and turn with shaking eyes.  "Can you please leave that open?" Jeongguk asks. No 'hello', no 'what are you doing here'. Jimin complies and opens the door, using the trash can to keep it propped open. Jeongguk visibly relaxes for a second, then turns back to continue fretting with the coffee cartons. Jimin sets the tablet on the table, walking up to Jeongguk from behind. He lightly pushes Jeongguk's hand away from the coffee spout. "You're going to spill it and make a mess," Jimin chides, politely bumping Jeongguk out of the way. "You just rip this tab right here, and everyone is supposed to pinch the spout at these two tabs here," Jimin explains. "Same thing for the cream." Jeongguk bites his lip and nods. He's sweaty, glistening down his neck and the sides of his face. His shirt is wrinkled and gross, and his tie has come undone. Jimin wishes he could keep his wince to himself, but it physically pains him to see someone look so unprepared for business.  "Where's your green?" Jimin asks. Jeongguk shows Jimin a green charm bracelet on his left wrist. Jimin looks at the bracelet, then looks at Jeongguk's hand. He's definitely reapplied foundation, but under the lights and at this angle, Jimin thinks he can see a faint tattoo of an eye on the back of Jeongguk's hand.  "This is all the green that I have," Jeongguk feebly explains, hiding his hand behind his back. "My wardrobe isn't the most colorful." "It's fine," Jimin reassures, glancing around the room. "What else do you need to set up?" "It's fine, hyung. Really, I don't want to bother you with this—" "You only have twenty minutes. Just tell me what you need help with," Jimin says curtly.  Jeongguk bites his lip. Then, "…If you can, um, just rearrange those portfolio stacks? I need to set the projector up." Jimin nods, rolling up the sleeves of his cardigan as he heads over to the table and begins to organize the stacks of documents in front of every chair.  The one thing that Jimin can give credit for Namgin is at least the presentations, and the materials are all very beautifully arranged. Jimin likes to think of himself as creative. Still, even his presentations sometimes feel a little bit bogged down with how much information he needs, especially since most of the slides are spent with Jimin rationalizing Madame Seo's ridiculous logic for the other board members.  But the marketing team has bright, beautiful, and well-organized presentations. There is enough information on the slide that makes it easy for Jimin to dictate important notes while also not too overcrowded with text that the meetings droll on and on. There are fun transitions, clips, custom graphics, and even photographs around the office of day-to-day work life. CEO Kim loves the pictures. It makes him feel sentimental, and he never fails to compliment Namgin and his shit-eating grin about them at the end of every meeting. Jimin finishes arranging all of the document stacks and prepares VP Kim and CEO Kim's spots at the table. Two danishes, one coffee to CEO Kim's liking, and one juice for VP Kim. Jeongguk glances over at Jimin from behind the laptop, the projector warming up on the pedestal. "VP Kim doesn't drink coffee?" Jeongguk asks, curious. "Caffeine makes him jittery," Jimin answers. "I don't think it's good for him to have it early in the mornings." "Oh." Jeongguk nods. "I'm the same way. I like having hot chocolate in the mornings. That or a protein shake. Actually, it's probably better for me to drink protein shakes instead of hot chocolate, but I'm running low on powder. I'm also trying to make juices, so I have more variety in the mornings, but I haven't found any good recipes. Which isn't good since I've splurged on this juicer, and it's pretty much just sitting in my cabinet collecting dust. I mean, the last juice I've tried to make–" "You really talk when you're comfortable, don't you?" Jimin asks, glancing over at Jeongguk with a raised eyebrow. Jeongguk clamps his lips shut, awkwardly looking back down at the keyboard. "I'm not saying that you talk too much," Jimin clarifies, "but how come you don't talk like this in mixed company?" Jeongguk taps around on his keyboard. "...Like you said," he mumbles, "I don't…really feel comfortable speaking around certain people." "People like Namgin?" Jimin asks. "I can file a report to HR–" "No," Jeongguk quickly interjects. "No, please. I really don't want trouble. It's fine." He sighs, looking back to the laptop screen. The projector is running, displaying the first slide of the presentation. The marketing team is composed of five members, each listed in the bottom right corner of the slide. Everyone except for Jeongguk. "Why isn't your name on there?" Jimin asks, glancing back at Jeongguk and not missing the pinched expression on Jeongguk's face. "Huh?" "Where's your name?" "Oh," Jeongguk looks at the laptop screen. "Um… it's fine… I'm never here for the presentations anyways. It'd be weird if my name is on here, but I don't even show up to the meetings." "Why don't you?" Jimin asks. He didn't even realize Jeongguk was never among the other members in marketing whenever they held meetings with the team. That small presence Jeongguk carries is something they'll really need to work on.  Jeongguk hunches his shoulders up towards his ears. "I… It's just really crowded. I don't do much, so why should I take up another seat? It's fine, hyung, really. I watch your recordings as soon as you post them, so I never miss anything or any questions that VP Kim may have," he explains. Leaving the laptop on the table towards the front, Jeongguk begins setting up the clicker.  Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the podium. "Jeongguk-ssi, may I ask you a personal question?" Jimin asks. He sees Jeongguk briefly tense up, clicker squeezed in his grip. "...Um, what about?" Jeongguk asks, not looking up at Jimin. Jimin approaches Jeongguk, standing at his side and watching him repeatedly turn the clicker around over and over in his hands. Gently, Jimin takes the clicker out from Jeongguk's fretting hands and pushes the switch on the back to the 'on' position, handing it back to Jeongguk, who takes it with a mumbled 'thanks.' "Jeongguk-ssi," Jimin starts, "are you afraid of closed spaces?" There is a long beat of silence. "...What makes you think that?" Jeongguk asks, still not looking at Jimin. Jimin sighs, raising a finger. "Well, you're the only one that's not in a cubicle in marketing–" he raises another finger– "you immediately go towards the stairs rather than take the elevator down–" another finger goes up– "you don't like having the door closed and haven't sat down in a meeting that has plenty of seats available–" "Okay, yeah," Jeongguk interrupts before Jimin can say anything else, shoulders tense. "Yeah, fine, okay. I don't like closed spaces. Can you please…please don't bring it up again." Jimin is quiet. He nods his head in understanding. The conference door opens wider, causing the both of them to glance over as VP Kim peeks his head inside. "Ah, there you are, Jimin-ah," VP Kim says with a smile, eyes glancing over at Jeongguk. He bows his head towards Jeongguk as he enters, carrying a few small sachets with him.  "I'm sorry," VP Kim says to Jeongguk, looking down at the sachets bashfully. He looks at Jeongguk's steadily turning pink face and shiny bright eyes and says, "I don't want to disturb your process of setting up the room, but, um, I recently purchased these and found the aroma to be really relaxing and thought they'd be nice to have around the room?" Jimin glances between Jeongguk and VP Kim, studying them carefully. Jeongguk nods his head, eyes fighting between looking VP Kim in his eyes and looking at the sachets as VP Kim transfers them over to Jeongguk's shaking hands.  "U-Um, it's fine! Yes, I'll set these up," Jeongguk says, hurriedly rushing away to carefully tuck the sachets in the corners of the room and underneath the chairs around the conference table. VP Kim smiles warmly, turning to Jimin, who smiles kindly at him. "Did you have a nice morning, sajangnim?" Jimin asks. "Very! I did some meditation before I arrived at the building, and, of course, I'm very confident in Madame Seo's predictions of good fortune for our stocks. I look forward to what Namgin and Chief Kang have to say," VP Kim says enthusiastically. Jimin nods, glancing over at Jeongguk, who has put considerable distance away from the two of them but is intensely gazing at VP Kim as though he's never seen anyone that looks like him in his entire life. It feels painfully apparent now that Jimin is witnessing Jeongguk's shy infatuation up close. A small smile curls on his lips. "Jeongguk-ssi organized the slides, so I'm sure the material will be well presented," Jimin compliments with a nod towards Jeongguk. Jeongguk jumps when VP Kim glances over at him, cheeks darkening scarlet. "I-It's nothing, really. I - um - it's just slides," Jeongguk brushes off. "Well, regardless, your contribution is very appreciated, Jeongguk-ssi," VP Kim says. Jeongguk nods, folding his hands in front of him. Jimin points at the exposed bracelet. "And did you see his bracelet? It's very cute, isn't it?" Jimin asks.  "Ah, yes. It's very cute," VP Kim says with a little laugh. "Did you make it yourself?" Jeongguk nods. "I…I don't have a lot of colorful things in my wardrobe, but, um, I like arts and crafts, so I had some extra beads and thread to make something," he explains. VP Kim approaches Jeongguk and Jeongguk goes rigid as VP Kim reaches out and grabs Jeongguk's hand, raising it up for a closer look.  "Oh wow," VP Kim enthuses, "it's very pretty. I like the gold dust over it." Jeongguk nods. His ears look like they're on fire. "Gold actually protects us from black energy entering the body," VP Kim explains to the both of them, casually turning Jeongguk's wrist in his grasp as he admires the shimmer. "It activates the divine energy within us and allows us to attain divine consciousness, while also protecting us from the negative energy that could cause us misfortune." "That's very interesting, sajangnim," Jimin says with a nod. "My hand is sweaty. I'm really sorry," Jeongguk clumsily apologizes.  "Oh, I'm sorry," VP Kim equally apologizes, letting Jeongguk's hand go. The sweat and excess rubbing revealed more of the tattoo underneath. It's definitely an eye on the back of Jeongguk's hand, the outline of it thick and black and (in Jimin's honest opinion) actually kind of scary.  Jeongguk hides his tattooed hand in the pocket of his slacks. "I-I should leave. I have some things to take care of–" "Oh, you won't be joining us for the meeting?" VP Kim asks. “I…no,” Jeongguk murmurs. "But, I'll be right outside, um, if you need me. Not that I think you will, but, I guess, um–" Jeongguk hangs his head. "I'm sorry, I'll be going now." "O-Okay," VP Kim says, reaching into his back pocket, withdrawing a folded piece of paper. "I forgot to give this to you a while ago, but if you would actually fill out this comment card for how you enjoyed your dinner from MinSuga, I'd like to give it to my hyung when I see him next." Jeongguk takes the card with his other hand. "Thank you," he says quietly. VP Kim nods. "... He's an outstanding chef, huh?" he asks. "I recommend his short ribs if you haven't tried them." "Y-Yes! They're really delicious! I've been getting the pork belly. It's just the right amount of fat to meat, and I like the sauce that he puts on it," Jeongguk says enthusiastically. "Oh, I never had the chance to try his pork belly. I usually have good dreams when I have hyung's short ribs, so I try not to make any sudden changes to my routines less I upset the cosmic balance." “Oh.” Jeongguk says, averting his eyes.  There's a brief flash of concern on VP Kim's face, and he starts putting distance between himself and Jeongguk. "I mean, um, I'll-" VP Kim starts, trying to smooth over the conversation before Jeongguk quickly shakes his head. "O-Oh, no! Please, it's fine. I don't want you to accidentally cause any shifts in your energy because of my recommendations. But I do hope you'll try it sometime. I can't remember having good dreams, but I fell asleep on my couch feeling really happy, so um, there's that?" Jeongguk kindly offers.  VP Kim blinks.  Then, he smiles.  "Thank you," he says. "I'll… I'll consult Madame Seo about my eating habits and maybe give it a try sometime."  Jeongguk nods, smiling sweetly. "I hope you'll enjoy it when you do," he says, giving a slight bow to VP Kim and a wave to Jimin before he quietly escorts himself out just as Soohee enters the conference room with CEO Kim and the marketing team following after.  "Ah, are we ready to start?" CEO Kim asks Jimin. Jimin doesn't have the time to answer since Namgin butts his way to the front of the crowd, wrapping a casual arm around the older man's shoulders and flashing him a cheesy grin. "Of course, we are ready, sajangnim," Namgin schmoozes, not so discreetly bumping into Jimin as he goes to warmly shake VP Kim's hand. As Namgin pulled his hand back, a brief grimace of annoyance flashed across his face. Gold flecks are dusted over the tips of Namgin's fingers, a majority of the gold dust covering the ends of VP Kim's fingers as well.  "A-Ah, I'm sorry, Namgin-ssi—" VP Kim apologizes, but Namgin quickly wipes his grimace and throws on a fake grin. "It's fine, sajangnim," he says, playfully nudging VP Kim with his elbow. "Touched one too many crystal balls before the meeting, eh?" he jokes. VP Kim laughs but quickly averts his gaze and moves to his seat. Jimin follows after, not missing the eye roll Namgin gives before switching back to his presenter's face and greeting the rest of the members as they all come in and sit around the table.  Jimin takes his seat in the back, readying his tablet for the recording while opening up his laptop to begin taking dictation. Once everyone has helped themselves to the refreshments available and taken their seats, Namgin starts the presentation with his usual loud and boisterous tone. Jimin rolls his eyes through his dictation, stopping only to shift his gaze for VP Kim's reactions. VP Kim isn't paying attention to the slides or Namgin pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly to the slides and the people in the room.  He's instead looking down at his gold-dusted hands, rubbing the pads of his fingers together with a small smile curled on his lips.

Name: S'chn T'gai Spock Date of Birth: 2230.06 Place of Birth: Vulcan, Shi'Kahr Rank: Commander Position on the USS Enterprise: First Officer, Chief Science Officer Date of decease: 2262.302 Age: 32 standard years old Cause of decease: transporter malfunction      Jim swallowed the huge lump in his throat, opened his eyes, and poised his stylus over the PADD. He brought it down, then stopped, his eyes stinging as he stared at the death report blankly. He could do it. He could do it, even though he wanted nothing more but to throw the goddamn PADD on the deck and stomp on it. It would be immature, childish—illogical—and he was an adult. He was the Captain. "…Captain?" Startled, he turned his gaze to Sulu and found him looking at him with a mix of pity and worry. Jim sat straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. "Yes, Mr. Sulu?" "We left the asteroid belt behind, Captain. No damage to the ship. All stations report ready for warp." Jim stared at him for a few moments before thinking that he should probably respond. "Right. Of course. Engage warp engines, Lieutenant. Warp 2." "Aye, Captain." Sulu turned back to his station and Jim leaned back in his chair, feeling weary and far too old. Maybe Bones had been right and he should have stayed in Sickbay. Maybe he just wasn't ready yet. Jim looked back at his PADD, then at his stylus. He bit his lip hard, set his jaw, and signed. His hand did not tremble as he closed the file. He was calm and collected. There was no way in hell he was crying in front of his subordinates. No fucking way. He looked around the bridge for something to focus his attention on. Everything—the bridge, stations and people sitting at them—looked strange and unfamiliar, like he was seeing them for the first time. Jim's gaze lingered on Chekov's curly head. "Mr. Chekov, check our course." "Keptin, I've already done that. We’re on course. The asteroid belt didn't alter it." "Check again, Mr. Chekov." "Yes, Keptin, " Chekov said after a moment. Jim drummed his fingers on the armrest of the command chair. He looked down at his PADD dumbly for a minute, then looked through his paperwork. He frowned. "Why don't I have the Gamma shift report, Mr. Sulu?" he said, his voice rough. Sulu's back stiffened. "With all due respect, Captain, I'm only human. I couldn't exactly navigate us through the asteroid belt with one hand and write the report with the other." "Hikaru!" Chekov whispered frantically, throwing a glance at Jim. Tense, unnatural silence lay heavily over the bridge. It stretched out, taut and tangible. Jim tightened his jaw, staring straight ahead. "I expect the report within an hour, First Officer." Sulu's back stiffened even more. "Yes, Captain," he said tightly. Jim stared at the main viewscreen, pretending not to notice the wary looks he was receiving. They treated him like a goddamn ticking bomb. He hated it, hated that tense atmosphere on his bridge, even though he knew he was the main cause of it. He had been so proud that his bridge crew worked like a well-oiled machine, like a team. Now, not so much. Not since… Jim closed his eyes, taking deep, calming breaths and concentrating on soft beeping sounds from the stations, trying not to think. It was almost like meditation. Not real meditation, of course, not like the one Spock— Dammit. He badly wanted a drink, but after he’d landed himself in Sickbay with alcohol poisoning, Bones took away all his booze and threatened to confine him to Sickbay for months if he touched alcohol again. Mean, stupid Bones. But Bones wasn't stupid, was he? He'd been right all the time about transporters; he was the smartest of all of them. Jim was actually surprised that Bones hadn't told him 'I told you so.' But he was being unfair. Spock's death was hard on Bones, too. Despite their constant bickering, they were friends—of course, not as close as Jim and Spock were— had been — "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn," Jim croaked, rising from the command chair. Sulu's 'Yes, Captain' was almost relieved. Jim avoided looking at the science station as he made his way to the turbolift. As the turbolift doors slid closed behind him, Jim pressed his forehead against the cool wall, breathing hard. He knew he was being a shitty captain, knew that he was emotionally compromised, but he was allowed to, damn it. He lost his best friend four days ago. Sure, he was close with Bones, too, but his friendship with Spock was something else entirely. Maybe it sounded cliché, but Spock was his anchor in the storm, his balance, his equal. Jim didn't know how to be the Captain of the Enterprise without Spock at his side, without Spock telling him when he was illogical, stupid, childish, irrational. He would gladly give years of his life just to hear Spock citing some regulation number whatever. He wanted Spock back. He needed him back.     * * *   The door slid shut behind him, and Jim looked around Spock's quarters. They still looked exactly the same as when he was here for a chess game five days ago. They still smelled the same. But not for long. The quarters were to be cleared for his new First Officer. Sulu probably was wondering why the hell it was taking so long to empty Spock's belongings from the room. Jim sat down heavily on the bed and buried his face in his hands. Sulu was his new First Officer. Doctor Kendrick was his new Chief Science Officer. A tiny, childish part of Jim that refused to die still hoped that it was just a vivid nightmare and that if he wished hard enough, he would wake up any minute to find Spock sitting at his science station. Maybe, if there had been a body, it would have been easier. Maybe not. The very first day, his brain simply refused to comprehend that Spock was dead, no matter what Scotty told him. He couldn't comprehend how Spock could be dead when Spock was alive just a minute ago— Spock hailed Jim before he was beamed up. Spock was beamed up but didn't materialize on the ship. Transporter malfunction, Scotty had told him, looking sick with guilt, and Jim had badly wanted to punch him. He still did. In his weaker moments, Jim wondered what if it were some other member of the away team—not Spock—who had been beamed up first. It was an awful thought and Jim loathed himself for it, but he was only human, damn it. Sighing, Jim fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He knew he was a wreck. He had to get a grip on himself. Spock wouldn't approve. Spock would have been disappointed in him. Spock had been able to function as a captain even when his mother—his whole planet—had died. Spock was strong. Jim had thought he was strong, too. He was wrong.     * * *   Jim came awake with a gasp, his heart thumping in his chest and his face wet. It was the same goddamn dream that he had been having for the past five days. He could vividly remember being in a dark room and he knew—felt—that Spock was somewhere in the darkness. Spock was saying something to him, but Jim couldn't understand what he was saying. He searched the room blindly but couldn't find him. Jim always woke up in tears when Spock's voice was gone. Jim heaved a sigh, wiping his eyes. Fuck, he hated it. Hated what he was turning into. He doubted he could get any sleep tonight. "Computer, time," he muttered. "0435," a mechanical female voice replied. Jim dragged himself into a sitting position and thought for a moment. "What time is it on the Vulcan colony?" "1548," the computer replied. "Open a direct channel to the Vulcan colony, Captain Authorization code seven-two-alpha-three-nine. Connect me to Ambassador Sortak, access code L324." "Connecting." Jim got up from the bed and dropped into the chair in front of his computer terminal. When the strikingly familiar face appeared in front of him, Jim swallowed hard. "Jim," Ambassador Spock said. "How are you, my friend?" Jim tried to smile, but his facial muscles didn't cooperate. "So you've heard about...?" The Vulcan's expression turned grim. "I have. Sarek informed me." Of course. Jim eyed the Ambassador's face. That was how his Spock would have looked in hundred years—if he lived. "Come to the Enterprise," he blurted out. "You were a Starfleet Officer—I'm sure you can get clearance from the DTI." "Jim—" "I'm sure they'd allow you—you'd be an asset to—" "Jim." "What?" he snapped. The Ambassador gave him a long, sad look. "I am not he, Jim, and you are not my James Kirk. It would not be the same. We both know it." Jim just stared at him. His chest hurt."Yeah. I know. But—" Suddenly, he was pissed off. "But what the hell am I supposed to do? I don't fucking know how to— how to—I can't—" He could barely breathe because of the lump in his throat. He covered his eyes with a hand. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he grated out. "He was supposed to outlive me. He was supposed to live hundreds of years. He wasn't supposed to die at fucking thirty-two." The hush that fell over the room was so palpable that he could hear his own ragged breathing. "I grieve with you," the Ambassador said finally, his voice full of pain. And for the first time, Jim really thought about how old the Ambassador was, and how he had lived over a hundred years without his James Kirk.     * * * "Get up, kid." Groaning, Jim turned on his belly and buried his face in his pillow. "Go away, Bones." He heard McCoy sigh heavily. "Jim, it's not healthy to spend all your free time in bed. Please, kid, get up and let's go to the mess hall, all right? You need to eat—you’ve lost at least ten pounds." "I don't want to," Jim muttered. The mattress dipped under McCoy's weight as he sat next to him. "Jim, don't do this to yourself—to the ship. You love this ship more than anything, remember?" Yes, he loved his girl, but more than anything? Jim wasn't that sure of that anymore. "I'm not harming her, Bones. I'm still doing my job, right?" "Yes, you're doing your job, but do you know how your depression is affecting the crew morale?" "No, but I'm sure you'll tell me." "Everyone is stressed and on edge. Spock's death wasn't easy on the crew, but you're making it even worse. And do you know how many crewmembers developed a transporter phobia? Forty-six percent, Jim – forty-six! We need to do something about it!" Jim chuckled harshly. "Are you blaming them for that? I hate the goddamn thing, too. I fucking hate it." McCoy sighed heavily. "Look, Jim...I know how hard it is—I was…was fond of him, too, but you need to let go. It's been weeks, Jim. You need to start living again. I know how important he was to you, but—" "You don't know." "Kid, Spock wouldn't have wanted to see you like this—" "Spock is dead," Jim said flatly. "He doesn't care." McCoy gritted his teeth, eyes flaring. "Goddammit, I don't know how to deal with you! You weren't this bad when Sam died on Deneva." Jim snorted. "You know how to lift someone's mood." "Look, Jim, I know it's hard, but— Wait. Are you wearing Spock's uniform shirt?" Jim would have blushed if he actually gave a fuck about what someone else might think. "It smells good," he said defiantly. There was a short silence. "Jim, it can't smell of anything other than laundry detergent," McCoy said very slowly, like he was talking to a small child. Jim didn't say a word. McCoy heaved a sigh. "I think you need to see Doctor Friske, kid." "I don't need a fucking psychiatrist, Bones." "Then tell me what I can do for you! It's killing me to see you like this!" Jim thought for a few seconds. "Just give me some time," he said tiredly. "I'll be okay. Eventually." "Are you sure?"No. "Yeah. Don't worry about me." McCoy got up, sighing. "Fine." "Bones?" Jim said when McCoy reached the door. His friend stopped. "You know I love you, right? I never said it, but you knew, right?" McCoy was silent for a few moments. "Yeah, I knew. I love you, too, kid."   * * *   Jim cursed under his breath, wiping the wetness from his face. Again. It had been a variation of same dream again. He hated these dreams and the way his heart would ache after them. They were confusing as fuck and always left him miserable and feeling like he was missing something important. "Computer, time." "0316, Captain." Great. At this rate, he was going to die of exhaustion. He needed sleep. He needed something to relax him. Jim opened his eyes. "Computer, access First Officer Spock's log. Captain Authorization code seven-two-alpha-three-nine." Officer logs were personal, but if he remembered correctly, they could be accessed after the death of an officer. "Accessing." "Transfer all the data to my PADD." "Transferring. The transfer is complete." Jim reached out for his PADD and opened the transferred folder. There were around six hundred files in it, and Jim opened one of the earliest ones. A familiar voice filled the room, and Jim smiled, even though his chest hurt. He closed his eyes and just listened to Spock's low voice retelling one of their very first missions.     * * *   Jim took to listening to Spock's log every day after his shift. In a way, it was painful to listen, to relive everything they had gone through since the beginning of their five-year mission, but Jim couldn't make himself stop. Hearing Spock's voice let him maintain some illusion of normalcy, to keep going, to have something to look forward to. Spock's entries were mostly about missions and his science experiments, but sometimes he talked about Jim. It was funny to hear how Spock's opinion of him changed throughout their mission.Stardate 2258.148 ...I cannot fathom how my older counterpart served under James Kirk for years. There is nothing appealing about the man: he is loud, rude, ill mannered, and highly illogical. He also has no respect for other individuals' personal space. Since the beginning of our voyage, I have been touched by the Captain 109 times. When I told him to cease, he looked at me as if he did not understand what I was speaking about, said 'Sure, Spock' and clasped my shoulder, thus contradicting himself. I believe Starfleet Command made a mistake by giving the Federation Flagship to a cadet with no experience and no knowledge of appropriate behavior. A captain is not supposed to distract the bridge crew from their duties, going from station to station, and therefore lowering the crew efficiency by approximately six-point-eight percent. However, overall the crew's efficiency is greatly improved compared… Well, that one kind of hurt, but it was the very beginning of their mission. Out of curiosity, Jim opened his own log. Stardate 2258.148 ...I'm so sick of his bullshit. "Captain, I believe you should not do this, you should not that! Captain, it is illogical, it is immature, blah-blah-blah!" I'm so fucking sick of that. I know, I know—I'm supposed to record the Enterprise-related things, but Starfleet assured me that it's my personal log, so I can record whatever I want. Seriously, I have no idea how the hell in another universe we were best friends. 'Cause in this universe, I hate his guts, and he hates mine. And it's not like I'm not trying—I am trying. It just doesn't work! Jim's lips curved into a crooked smile. How stupid he'd been. 2258.174 ...I believe today the Captain has been mocking me. He held his hands clasped behind his back, raised his eyebrows at every opportunity, mimicked my speech pattern, and did not touch anyone. I lasted only for 6.32 hours before I confronted him. I have to admit, my control is inadequate when it comes to James Kirk. It is distasteful that he elicits emotional response from me so easily… Jim frowned. Huh? It was kind of funny, but he couldn't remember ever doing it. He opened his own log again. 2258.174…Today I decided to be a good logical Captain just to see how Spock would react. And you know how he reacted? He told me that my behavior was childish and uncalled for and to 'cease this farce at once, Captain.' I know, right? No matter what I do, it's always wrong in Spock's book. Jim laughed hoarsely. God, it was the worst case of miscommunication ever. They were such fools. It sounded so weird to him, because Jim couldn't remember the last time they'd misunderstood each other. They never did. They were the best command team in the Fleet—they had been. Jim's smile faded. He closed his eyes and breathed in, breathed out. * * * "Captain, get out of there! The building is gonna blow up in— sixteen seconds!" Jim ignored Scotty, concentrating on opening the lock. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered under his breath, his fingers flying over the console. "Locking on your signal, Captain!" "Don't you dare," Jim growled. "There're people in there!" "But Captain, you cannae make it in time—" "That's an order, Mr. Scott." "Beam him up, Scotty!" he heard Bones' voice. "I'm pulling rank!" "Sorry, Captain," Scotty muttered before the world dissolved around Jim. "What the hell, Bones?!" Jim shouted when he materialized on the transporter pad. Everyone but Bones quickly cleared out of the room. "You tell me what the hell!" McCoy shouted back, his face red with fury. "Are you out of your mind, Captain?! You would've died if you stayed there!" "There were people behind the door," Jim said through his teeth, clenching his fists. "And now they're dead! I could have saved them!" Bones grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. "No, you couldn't! There wasn't enough time! What the hell, Jim? Did you want to die?" When he didn't say anything, McCoy's eyes widened in horror. "Goddammit, Jim," he croaked. "You really—" "I could've saved them, Bones," Jim whispered, his throat constricting. "They would've been alive." McCoy stared at him. "You couldn't save them, Jim. You knew it, and you still went in there. Goddammit, kid... You've always been reckless, but not like that—never like that. That was fucking suicide." Jim set his jaw. "Is that all, Doctor?" Bones glowered at him. "No. And I'm not talking as your CMO, I'm talking as your friend." He squeezed Jim's shoulders. "Jim, listen to me. I'm worried about you—no, I'm scared shitless of what’s happening to you. I don't recognize you anymore, kid—it's like all life was sucked out of you. I thought it would pass in a few weeks, but it's been over a month and you're only getting worse." McCoy sighed heavily. "I don't want to do it, but if you don't get a grip on yourself soon, I’ll be forced to declare you unfit for duty, because you are emotionally compromised." Jim stared at him for a few moments before nodding. Returning to his quarters, Jim fell onto the bed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Reaching for his PADD, he put Spock's log on and buried his face in the pillow.   * * *   ...It is quite fascinating. Previous data suggests that it undergoes these eruptions approximately once every fifty years... It was dark in the room and Jim could almost pretend Spock was sitting next to his bed, telling him about his research. He loved Spock's voice—always had. It was low, rich, smooth, and just so Spock. Even when Spock was talking about the most boring stuff ever, he managed to make it sound interesting. Intimate in the darkness, it felt like Spock's voice was warm water dripping over his body, sliding over his flesh, making him tingle....Assuming its eruptions have continued to occur at the same rate as those observed recently, the star will have lost approximately 20 solar masses over 10,000 years... His eyelids became heavy, and little by little they closed, and sleep took him over. He woke up, his cock stiff, lips tingling and heart pounding. He remembered, barely, dreaming. He remembered, more vividly, wanting. Sighing, Jim pressed a hand against his cock, palming himself through his boxers....is somewhat unstable in its luminosity... Tugging his underwear down, he wrapped his hand around his erection and started stroking it. He was already close when he'd woken up, so it didn't take long. He was almost there, his orgasm drawing closer, and Jim squeezed his cock hard, hips lifting—...it has an absolute magnitude of -7.5, making it one of the most luminous stars known... Jim's eyes popped open and he let go of his dick as if it were too hot to hold onto, sitting up so quickly that he nearly fell off the bed. Shit, he'd just been jerking off to the sound of his best friend's voice—his dead best friend's voice. Jim took a deep breath, trying to come up with a rational explanation. Okay. All right. Obviously, it was just a coincidence. After all, he hadn't even noticed that the log was still on when he started jerking off. That wasn't about Spock or his voice or something. He just had woken up with a hard-on; that was all. There was nothing to freak out about. Nothing. Shaking his head at himself, Jim was back under the covers, the room dark and quiet except for Spock's low voice. Ignoring his erection, Jim closed his eyes, simply enjoying the sound of Spock's voice.Stardate 2259.132 Today we have discovered a natural wormhole, located near Barzan II. If my calculations are correct, it is the first and only stable wormhole to ever exist, connecting the Alpha Quadrant with the Gamma Quadrant. The wormhole appears precisely every 233 minutes, which, according to the Barzan scientists, is due to radiation build up in the accretion disk; its visible burst is very brief...  Jim remembered the wormhole Spock was talking about. Spock had been very excited about it—excited by Spock's standards, which meant that he used the word 'fascinating' every minute or so. Yeah, Spock had been very excited and intense—like he always was when he came across something fascinating. His cock was becoming impossible to ignore, and, sighing, Jim reached out and turned the PADD off. Settling back on the pillows, he started jacking himself off, thinking of nothing in particular. It worked, but every time he'd get close, he'd remember Spock, and he just...couldn't do it. Dammit.  Breathing hard, Jim stared at the dark ceiling. It was official: he was sick in the head. Maybe he really needed to see Doctor Friske, after all. Frustrated, horny, and pissed, Jim dragged himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom. A cold shower would deal with his problem. If he couldn't sleep and couldn't jerk off, at least he could do something productive and report early to the bridge.   * * *   He lasted two days without listening to the log, but after watching Spock's quarters being cleared for Sulu—Spock's all belongings packed and moved to the storage room—Jim broke down and put it on again. Yes, maybe it was unhealthy as fuck, but he needed Spock in his life and the log was the only way he could have him. Jim was immensely relieved to find out that Spock's voice didn't turn him on. Spock's voice wasn't doing anything for him except causing a dull ache in his chest, which was a usual thing these days. He wasn't some kind of pervert. Obviously it had been just a one-time thing, just weird stuff that could happen to anyone. He wasn't sick.     * * * Jim woke up in tears—again—and heaved a frustrated sigh. Goddamn dream. He was sick of them, sick of it, sick of himself. He'd never thought he would turn into such a cry-baby. Reaching for the PADD, he skipped a few hundreds files and chose the most recent entry. He smiled when Spock's low voice filled the room. Stardate 2262.299 … I also have made significant progress with the secondary buffer. The simulations were successful, and if the beta version proves itself in practice, I shall suggest the modification to Jim. I believe the modification will increase the safety of transporter travel by approximately seventy-six percent... Huh? Spock was working on the transporter a few days before the accident? "Computer, lights." Jim listened to the recording again to make sure that his sleep-deprived mind had understood it correctly, then listened to previous entries until he found more information in an entry dated two months ago.Stardate 2262.278 ...I am working on a modification to the transporter system that should prevent loss or misinterpretation of a pattern. My intention is to create a secondary buffer that will hold the matter stream for a longer period of time than the pattern buffer in case rematerialization is impossible at the moment or if there is an error with rematerialization due to ion storms and transporter malfunctions. Taking precautions is only logical. Jim stared at the PADD, his chest hurting. If only Spock had finished the project a little earlier, he would have been alive. If only— But what if Spock had finished the project? He did intend to install the beta version, after all. His heart beating in his ears, Jim jumped off the bed and quickly dressed.Calm the fuck down, he told himself. Don't get your hopes up.  When he reached the door, a thought struck him and his shoulders sagged. He was being pathetic. If Spock had implemented such a subroutine, Scotty would have noticed, wouldn't he? But. But if there was even a tiny chance that Spock was alive… Jim set his jaw. "Computer, what is Lieutenant Scott's location?"   * * * Scotty frowned when Jim finished. "But it should've been impossible, Captain! Inert matter can only remain in the pattern buffer for seven minutes before becoming irretrievably lost! And if a person is in the matter stream for too long, his or her pattern would degrade to the point that rematerialization is no longer possible!" Jim sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Yeah, I know, but Spock was working on it and simulations were positive." Scotty shook his head. "But it's against all the laws of physics!" "Scotty, how many times you told me that but still managed to pull a miracle out of your ass?" Scotty sighed. "Too many." "Look, let's assume that Spock found a way to keep a pattern from degrading. If that was the case, could he install the modification without you noticing it?" "Well… The Commander had an access to the transporter system—since he was the Chief Science Officer and all—and often tweaked things here and there. I usually never questioned it, 'cause Commander Spock was the only one who knew the ship as well as me." Jim's throat constricted at the use of the past tense. "But didn't you check the transporter after the incident?" Scotty rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, well…Yeah, I did, but after the malfunction, the transporter system automatically reset itself to default settings, so who knows…" "But now, when you know what to look for, you can check what he tweaked, right?" Scotty nodded, but he looked very dubious. "Yeah, but—" "Do it," Jim said in a tone that would bear no argument. * * *     Jim paced back and forth in the transporter room while he waited for Scotty's verdict. He was practically shaking with a mix of exhaustion, excitement, hope and dread. No one was here but them. Gamma shift was quiet as usual. It's against all the laws of physics, Jim reminded himself, preparing for the worst. He couldn't let himself hope too much. "Holy shit," Scotty breathed. Jim whirled to him, his heart hammering in his chest. "What?" Scotty's gaze was glued to the screen. "You were right, Captain! There is a subroutine. I don't even know how I haven't noticed it before!" Jim jumped to his side. "And?" he said impatiently. Scotty frowned. "It's complicated… Looks like the Commander installed a modification that is intended to copy the matter stream from the pattern buffer to some secondary buffer if there's an error with rematerialization. It seems Mr. Spock really found a way to keep the pattern from degrading by locking the secondary buffer into a level 4 diagnostic cycle… I've never thought of something like that, but that could actually work…" Jim's heart swelled in his chest. "You mean… he could be alive?" he managed. Scotty bit his lip, his fingers flying over the controls. "I dunno, Captain…It might've failed. In theory, it could work…" "But can't you check if there's a pattern in the secondary buffer?" Scotty was frowning, his gaze still on the screen. "I'm working on it, Captain. I don't know where the secondary buffer is in the first place, so it's kinda—“ His face lit up. “Found it!" "And? Is there a pattern?" Jim croaked. Scotty eyed the screen for what felt like ages before grinning even wider. "Yes, there is!" "And?" Jim said, his heart in his throat. "Is it Spock? What about degradation?" "One moment, lad…" Scotty said, his fingers flickering over the keyboard. He froze, and Jim felt a cold dread fill his stomach. Scotty turned his head and beamed at him. "The pattern suffered less than 0.00002% degradation! It's the Commander, Captain!" Jim stared at Scotty for a few moments, before turning his back to him and covering his face with his trembling hands. His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his chest, his eyes were burning, and he felt like crying and laughing all at once. Son of a bitch. That son of a bitch. "So we can rematerialize him with no problem?" he managed. "Aye, Captain!" "Hail Bones. Tell him to bring a medical team—just in case. We're rematerializing Spock in ten minutes. I'll be back soon," Jim said and almost ran towards the nearest bathroom. He needed to collect himself, or he was going to make a scene. Gripping the sink with his hands, Jim stared at himself in the mirror, his bloodshot eyes wide open. Spock. Spock was alive. In a few minutes he was going to see him again. Turning on a tap, he splashed his face with cold water.Goddammit, get a grip, Kirk. * * * When he returned to the transporter room, Bones was already there with a few nurses. Bones seemed to sense that he was barely holding himself together and wisely didn't say anything. Jim nodded at Scotty and turned to the transporter platform, his trembling hands clenched into fists. He still made a scene. The moment Spock materialized on the transporter pad, Jim was at his side, hugging the hell out of him, nuzzling his ear and neck, pulling him impossibly tighter against him. Spock was alive, he was fucking alive—warm, breathing, and— "Goddammit, kid, quit doing an octopus impression! I need to take readings!" Jim clung to Spock tighter, refusing to let go. Screw Bones, screw the medics, screw Scotty witnessing all of that. Spock was back, Spock was alive, and that was all that mattered. "Jim, what is the matter?" Spock said. Frowning, Jim pulled away from Spock and stepped a few steps back, letting Bones do his job. Spock was frowning ever so slightly, a puzzled look on his face. Jim let out a harsh chuckle, wiping discreetly at his eyes. Of course. For Spock, it had been only a minute since they talked. For Jim, it had been thirty-nine days without him.

As they walked back to the motel, they passed a diner. "We still didn't eat," Dean said, stopping and longingly looking into the building. Now that he was high as fuck, his stomach was again attempting to remind him to eat by grumbling loudly. Cas stopped as well. "Yeah, I'm starving," he said, absentmindedly placing his hand on his stomach. They walked inside and saw it was packed. "Do you want to look for another one?" Cas asked, turning to Dean. Dean shrugged. "Nah, it's fine. Thank you though." Cas smiled as a hostess approached. "Just two?" They nodded and she led them to a small two-person booth in the corner of the restaurant, one of the few tables not yet occupied. It took a long time for their food to arrive. By the time they paid the check and left, it was 10:30. They walked slowly back to the hotel, tired, high, and full. Dean laid down immediately, while Cas went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he returned, Dean was already under the blanket. Cas undressed and slid underneath to join him, facing him. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas' waist, pulling him closer. As Cas tucked his face into Dean's chest, his hair tickled Dean's nose. "I love you," Cas murmured into his chest. "Love you too," Dean mumbled, drifting off into sleep. The next day, Cas awoke at six. He didn't want to, but they needed to get on the road if they were going to have time to hike and still drive a decent distance. "Dean, wake up," he said, touching his shoulder. "What time is it?" Dean mumbled, cracking his eyes open. "Six. We gotta go. I'll drive if you want." Dean nodded and sat up, streching his arms above his head and yawning. He then reached down and grabbed his clothes off the floor, pulling his shirt over his head before standing up to pull on his pants. Cas gave the room a once-over to make sure nothing of theirs was lying out. Once he confirmed everything was in their bags, he slung his over his shoulder and tossed Dean an unlit cigarette. "Let's go, sleepyhead." Dean threw their bags into the backseat of the Impala and plopped himself down in the front while Cas checked out at the front desk. He was nearly drifting off again, the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, when the door creaked open, and Cas dropped himself into the drivers seat. He clicked his seatbelt and looked over at Dean, starting the car. "Jeez, you look tired. Are you gonna be able to do the trail?" Dean nodded. "How long until we're there?" "An hour," Cas replied, craning his neck to check for traffic before backing out of the parking spot and into the road. "Wake me up in thirty," Dean mumbled, letting his head fall onto his shoulder and leaning into the window. "Dean!" Dean startled awake, nearly falling out of bed. "Yes?" he said groggily. He could hear a baby screaming in another room. "Go shut your brother up." Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and shuffling past his father, out the door, and into Sam's room. As he pulled up the step stool, he could hear his father stumbling back into his room, slamming his door behind him. He fumbled with the safety lock on the crib before popping it open and lowering the side panel. He picked up Sam and carefully stepped down. "It's okay Sammy, no wonder you're crying," he said softly, kicking the stool over to the changing table. "I'm gonna get you all cleaned up." He changed him and sat down on the floor with him. A one-year old was heavy, and he was only five. He bounced him on his leg as best he could, singing him the lullaby Mary used to sing to him. She had only been gone for six months, but to Dean, it felt like years. Soon Sam quieted down, and Dean carefully set him down on the floor so he could stand up. He then bent down, hoisted him back up, and walked back over to the crib. He placed Sam in, singing for a few more minutes to ensure he was asleep before latching the crib again and retreating to his room. "Dean?" Dean slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head, turning to Cas. "Huh?" "We're about twenty minutes away." Dean straightened up and fumbled around for his cigarettes. He located the one Cas had given him earlier lying on his lap. He lit it up and partially rolled down the window. "You okay?" Cas asked, glancing over at him. "Yeah, why?" Dean said, taking a long drag and squinting out the window. Cas shrugged. "You were mumbling in your sleep." Dean was quiet for a minute, still staring out the window. "Yeah. Wasn't exactly a nightmare or anything, though, so." "Okay. I'm just asking," Cas said quietly. Dean looked at him. "I know. Thank you for caring." He smiled weakly. Cas returned his smile before turning back to the road. "So, we didn't get breakfast or anything but I brought some stuff. Can't do all that walking on an empty stomach, we'll pass out." Dean nodded. "Yeah. I'm hungry." "Well it's in my bag," he said, nodding his head towards the backseat. Dean turned around, grabbing Cas' bag and dragging it up front. He opened it up to find a couple of ziplock bags, packed with snacks. "Damn, Cas, you are always prepared," he mumbled, rifling through them. "You want any?" "I'll have some of whatever you pick," he said, glancing down at his phone, which was open to his GPS app. Dean pulled out a bag of pretzels and closed up the bag, putting it back in the backseat. He opened it and held it out to Cas, who reached in and took a handful. "Thank you." Dean didn't respond right away, staring off out the windshield. Then he said, "Thank you." He turned to Cas. "You packed them. And you're paying for this roadtrip. And you're taking me to California with you. And-" "Dean," Cas cut him off. Dean stopped and turned to look at him, mouth open slightly. "Stop it. You know I wouldn't have it any other way." Cas grinned. They pulled into the dirt parking lot, large clouds of dust kicking up behind them. They waited for it to settle before getting out of the car. Cas grabbed his backpack and asked Dean to carry his camera. As they approached the shed-like building at the entrance, Cas pulled out his wallet. He paid the teller the entrance fee and they began walking down the trail. "Okay, so it said online there is a lot of active wildlife, so keep the camera ready," Cas said. "Okay." They walked in silence, looking around at the vast fields of gold and green surrounding them. The air was brisk, as it was only about seven-thirty. Birds chirped from the trees and the grass rustled in the wind. "Look!" Cas whispered. Dean turned to where he was pointing. From behind some rocks about ten yards away, four fox cubs peered at them. Dean lifted up the camera and zoomed in, snapping a few photos. "They're so cuuuuute," Cas gushed. The bush behind them rustled and an adult red fox appeared, looking at the cubs before looking up at Dean and Cas. Dean continued snapping photos. "I think that's the mom," he said. She turned and disappeared back into the bush, and one by one, the cubs followed her, looking back over their shoulders at the boys before disappearing into the brush. Dean lowered the camera, turning to Cas and seeing the excitement in his face. "I didn't know you liked foxes so much." "They're my favorite," Cas said, not taking his eyes off the bush. Dean frowned. "How did I not know that?" Cas shrugged, finally looking at him. "I guess it never came up." He paused. "What's yours?" Dean thought for a minute. "I never thought about it..." he said. "Give me a minute." He started walking again and Cas trailed behind. Fifteen minutes later, they saw a coyote. "Oh shit," Dean said. "He's close." He snapped a picture before his voice scared him off. "They're skittish," Cas said. They started walking again. "The wolf," Dean said suddenly. "Huh?" Cas asked, turning his head to look at him. "My favorite animal. The wolf. They're... brave, loyal, smart... and they take care of their family," he said slowly. "And they're totally badass," he added with a smile. Cas smiled back. "Sounds like you." He grabbed his hand as they walked. Dean turned red. "You're such a dork." Cas smiled and murmured in agreement. As they continued to walk, Cas was lost in thought. Finally he said, "Dean, can we get a dog?" Dean stopped dead in his tracks. "What?" Cas stopped, letting go of his hand and turning to face him. "A dog. Can we get one?" "I... I mean, it's your apartment, you don't... you don't have to ask my permission. But..." He hesitated. "I'm not really a dog person." "Oh," Cas said, frowning. "Are you a cat person?" "I guess I'm not really a cat person, either," he said, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Have you... ever had a pet?" Cas asked, raising his eyebrows. Dean closed his eyes. "No." He could feel his heart rate increasing and his palms sweating. "Can... can we talk about this later?" he mumbled. "Yeah," Cas said with a nod. He slowly started walking and Dean followed, reaching into his back pocket for his cigarettes and shakily lighting one. They continued on, the incline of the trail rising steadily. Cas wondered what the hell that was all about with Dean. He knew the beginnings of a panic attack, Dean had had plenty, but lately he'd been having less. To have one over the simple mention of a pet meant Dean wasn't being entirely truthful about something. He knew he had to let it go, though. It would just have to wait until Dean was ready. Finally after what seemed like forever, they reached the falls. Trying to calm his breathing wasn't easy when you were trekking uphill. Dean sat down on a rock, his face a bit red. "It's gorgeous," Cas said. He glanced down at Dean. "Let me see the camera." Dean took it off from around his neck and handed it to Cas. "Did you bring water?" he rasped. Cas shrugged his backpack off, dropping it onto the ground next to Dean and walking off to frame a good shot of the waterfall. After a few minutes he circled back, looking down at his camera. "I got some good ones." "Can we take one of us to send Sam?" Dean asked quietly, putting his water bottle back in the bag. "Of course," Cas replied, putting his camera back in the case which was still around Dean's neck. "Come on." Dean lifted the shoulder strap over his head, standing up and leaving the camera case on the ground next to Cas' backpack. They walked over to the edge, turning around, and Cas held up his phone. "Ready?" He snapped a photo and pulled it up to show Dean. Dean stared at it for a second, then said, "Okay. Send it." Cas sent it to Sam with the text 'dean says hi'. He then looked around. "There's no one here, want to smoke before we head back?" Dean nodded and they walked back over to where they had left their stuff, sitting down. Cas pulled out his Altoids tin and rolled a huge joint. He shoved the tin back in his bag and lit the joint, passing it to Dean. "So what's the plan from here?" Dean asked as they took the last few hits off the joint. Cas shrugged. "I couldn't find much. After this we have to go through Wyoming and Utah." "Oh, joy," Dean muttered. Cas' phone went off with a text message alert. He pulled it out of the pocket of his jeans; he had gone "casual", as he called it, again today. "It's Sam," he said. "He asked where we are and if we're having fun." Dean was smiling. "Tell him I'll call him when we get back on the road." Cas nodded, texting Sam back. When he was finished, he looked up from his phone. "You ready?" Dean nodded and they stood up, grabbing the bag and camera bag and heading back the way they came. As they settled into the car, the Doors were playing on the radio. "Okay, so it's about six hours to Salt Lake City," Cas said, buckling his seat belt. "We should be there by 4:30, if you want to stop. Then it's another hour and a half until the Nevada border." "Then how close are we?" Dean asked. Cas sighed. "Then it's another six hours to Reno, then another three and a half hours to cross California." He closed his eyes, thinking for a minute. "I guess we should stop shortly after we enter Nevada and find a motel." Dean nodded. "Alright, let's get going then." They had decided against stopping in Salt Lake City and drove straight on, only stopping for bathroom breaks and fast food, until nine, when Cas was drifting off in the passenger seat and Dean couldn't stop yawning. "Where are we?" Cas asked sleepily as Dean exited the highway. "Some place called Elko," Dean mumbled, driving in the direction of the first neon vacancy sign he saw. Cas checked them in at the front desk and when he returned with the key, Dean followed him in with the bags, dropping them onto the table. As he lifted his head, he froze. "What's up?" Cas asked, eyeing him from the bed where he had already flopped onto his back. "I just had some serious déjà vu," Dean muttered, shaking his head. "All this driving is murder on my back," Cas groaned. Dean rummaged through Cas' bag, locating an orange bottle and a water bottle. He walked over to the bed, holding them out. "Thank you," Cas said, taking both. He shook two pills out and tossed them back, taking a sip of water and handing the pill bottle back to Dean. Dean put it back in his bag as Cas set the water bottle on the nightstand. "Do you want me to rub your back?" Dean asked, zipping Cas' bag, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Cas usually didn't take his pills often- maybe once a day, but never more than twice a day, and never two at once. He had already taken one that morning, and he had just taken two more. Cas smiled sleepily, his eyelids heavy. "That would be nice, thank you." He rolled over onto his stomach, stretching slowly. Dean walked over to the bed, climbing on top of Cas and straddling his legs. He pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the floor. He slowly started working between Cas' shoulders with the palms of his hands. Cas groaned into the pillow. "Does that hurt?" Dean asked, rubbing gingerly. "Yes," Cas croaked. "But it needs to be done." Dean frowned but didn't stop. Eventually the grunts and sighs subsided. "Cas?" Dean asked softly. He didn't get a response, so he figured Cas had fallen asleep. He slowly climbed off, trying not to jostle the mattress too much. Settling down at the table, he lit a cigarette and watched Cas sleep. He wanted to think about how perfect Cas' ass looked in those jeans, but he had other things on his mind. He took a drag off his cigarette and shook his head, averting his gaze. He just couldn't appreciate the ass properly. Snuffing out his cigarette, he approached the bed, removing his clothes and pulling the covers out from beneath Cas. He stirred, reaching underneath the pillow. Dean threw the blanket over him before climbing underneath and scooting up next to Cas, placing his arm around him. He heard Cas sigh contently, and he did the same, breathing in the sweet smell of sweat and shampoo from his hair before falling asleep.

Had it all really been leading to this? Jane thought to herself as she sat across the table, nervously eyeing Maura over the candlelight. She tried to eat her food, which was delicious despite her picking at it with her fork. The trouble was that she was having a horrible time focusing on anything other than how horribly awkward she felt.   First there had been the question of what to wear. Normally, she gave little thought to what she wore. Other than finding an outfit that matched and was comfortable, she rarely made much effort in the way of dress. But this was a date—a real date. She couldn't just show up in her usual blouse and slacks, and Maura had expressed her distaste for Jane's favorite pair of heeled boots. What did Maura expect her to wear? Did she expect her to dress up? The doctor would surely be stunning, as usual, but how could Jane compete? Maura was always the one to help her get dressed for stuff like this anyway. What would Maura like? She thought to herself as she stared into her closet. Suddenly, everything seemed so awful. Then there had been the question of what to bring. Had a guy been coming over to her place for dinner, she would expect him to bring flowers and wine, or at least some sort of gift. Does that mean I'm the guy? Jane thought tossing another outfit onto her bed. Don't be ridiculous, Jane. She cursed herself, there is no guy! It's just me and Maura. "Fuck!" Jane said tossing another outfit onto the bed. This was Maura. She was going on a date with Maura. Calm the fuck down! Jane thought. Stop thinking about this so much. Finally, she had settled on the only little black dress she owned. It was the only item in Jane's wardrobe that Maura had not turned her nose up to. Not that Maura showed disapproval of all her clothes, but she was fairly outspoken about Jane's lack of taste, or rather lack of interest in fine clothing. This particular item Jane had bought fairly recently—that is within the past several weeks. She thought back to when she had purchased it. It had been back during one of Maura's matchmaking crazes where she insisted on bringing Jane out to meet guys. Jane had been shopping with her mother when the dress had caught her eye. Of course, to avoid incessant questions from either of them, she had purchased the dress the next day on her own. Jane slipped into the dress and looked at herself in the mirror. Why did I buy this anyway?  She wondered. Her hand smoothed down the curve of her hip. She remembered thinking about how Maura would have loved it. I never did get to see her reaction to it, she thought to herself with a smile.   And suddenly, the reason she bought the dress was clear. As clear as the smile on Maura’s face as she stared at her from across the table. It had taken Jane months to see it, but they'd been building to this. Maura was the reason Jane had bought that dress. Maura was the reason she found few—if any—men appealing. Maura was the reason she felt an overwhelming pang of jealously any time anyone gave the doctor more than just friendly attention. "Jane?" Maura said, noticing the brunette's half-eaten plate of food. "Are you feeling okay?" "Hm?" Jane said, glancing up at her uneasily. "Is the salmon under-cooked?" Maura said with a frown, wondering if that was why Jane had been poking it absentmindedly with her fork. The honey blond had not really been worried that Jane didn't like the dish. Maura was confident in her cooking ability. She did, however, worry that the long silence was indicative of Jane's reluctance to move the date forward. Maura desperately wished that she could know what the brunette was thinking. Did she want to slow down? Was all this too much for her to take? All Maura knew was that she was frightfully nervous herself. Why, she honestly couldn't fathom. Maura was always very confident when it came to dating. She was comfortable with her sexuality and she was comfortable with Jane. So, why was she so anxious?   This is Jane. Maura had thought to herself as she prepared dinner. This is your best friend Jane. Maura had been thankful that Jane had been late to arrive, because, despite her usual confidence when it came to picking out the perfect outfit, she found herself changing her mind and her clothes several times. She couldn't believe that someone who normally made her feel so at ease was suddenly the source of so much anxiety. She began to wonder if the whole dinner thing was a good idea. It was a weeknight, after all, and if Jane spent the night—was she going to spend the night? Maura had tossed those thoughts aside as she went to answer the door. The two stared at each other briefly before either said anything. Jane managed a compliment about Maura's dress—a silky red dress that hugged her every curve—as she awkwardly handed her a bottle of wine. Maura admired Jane with a smile, thanking her for the wine. Goodness she looks sexy in that little black dress.   "No, the meal is delicious." Jane assured Maura with a nod, though she continued to stir her food absentmindedly. "Jane if you're not ready for this..." Maura suddenly blurted out, placing her hand reassuringly on Jane's. "Are you not ready for…?" but Jane was unable to finish the sentence. Her mouth was dry, and her heart was racing. She was aware of little more than Maura's thumb running over her fingers. "Yes, Jane, I'm nervous, too." Maura said, squeezing Jane's hand. Finally, Jane looked up into her eyes. Maura smiled bravely, "That's natural. But, Jane, if you need more time, there's no need for us to rush things." "I'm sorry," Jane said, suddenly standing up. Maura stood up too, looking at Jane with panic filling her eyes. This was all too much for Jane. Everything in her brain was screaming Run! Why couldn't this be easy? Why couldn't this just happen? What happened to the comfort she felt with Maura no more than two hours ago? "Don't go!" Maura said desperately, catching Jane's hand as she turned to leave. Maura caught her, caught Jane from falling into her own trap. She grasped Jane tightly on the precipice of her fears. Maura steadied her, kept her from falling, the way Maura always had, the way only Maura could. For Jane may have been Maura's protection from the world, but Maura was Jane's protection from herself. Jane's eyes were teary as she spun around. She nearly fell into Maura's kiss, a deep, hungry, and bruising kiss. Unbridled from an audience, from the need for professionalism, they melted into each other. Jane’s hands shook as her fingers spread into golden hair. She sighed as Maura’s tongue slipped over her parted lips. The brunette felt her whole body aching for more. "Fuck," Jane gasped as their lips parted. "Don't go," Maura said her pleas growing forceful as she moved kisses down Jane's neck. "Don't go." "Maura,” Jane groaned as Maura's hands grazed over her breasts. She arched into the touch; she delighted in how right it felt with Maura's hands on her body. How could she ever have questioned this? "Don't go." Maura demanded, squeezing purposefully at Jane's breasts. "I’m sorry,” Jane whispered. "I’ll stay. I promise." Their lips met again in another bruising kiss. Maura's hands delved into Jane's dark locks as tears spilled from her hazel eyes. She wanted—no she needed to hear it again. "Jane," she said, breaking the kiss and looking into her russet colored eyes, "tell me again." Jane stared at her. She could feel Maura needed to hear something, something she wasn't saying, something she had restrained herself from saying for so long. Maura didn't know how to ask for it, but Jane had heard her plea anyway. "I’ll stay with you," Jane said, searching her hazel eyes, “Maura. Because I love you. I’m … I’m in love with you.” The honey blond kissed her again, pulling her impossibly close. Her movements grew more fervent, needy. Jane was barely able to keep up. Jane had finally said exactly what she had waited years to hear. Maura’s suppressed desires were set free as she moved her lips down Jane’s jaw and neck and collarbone. She bit and licked on her way down, making her way to the valley between Jane's breasts. Jane tossed her head back with a soft moan. Suddenly, Jane's sexy black dress was in the way. She would have to appreciate it later—Maura needed Jane naked right now. For that matter, she needed her own constricting dress off as well. She needed Jane's strong hands on her body, her tanned skin against hers. Maura stepped back, causing Jane to look at her in surprise. For a moment, Maura feared that Jane would remain frozen there. The honey blond wanted to be patient, but Jane was testing not only her physical but also her emotional patience. She yearned for physical reassurance that Jane’s words were sincere. Her heart lightened as Jane smiled, reaching for her hand. As Maura led her by the hand up the stairs, she peered back at Jane teasingly. The brunette longed to kiss Maura again, to taste her again, but she simply watched Maura in wonder as she led her to the master bedroom. Then, quite suddenly Maura halted in front of the bed and looked at Jane from over her shoulder. Maura pointed to the zipper on the back of her dress. Jane smiled and obliged, slowly exposing the smooth skin of Maura's back, spreading kisses down as she moved. The silky material fell silently to the floor and the honey blond turned to face Jane, who looked down at Maura's black lacey undergarments and exposed flesh admiringly. The brunette had seen her friend's underwear-clad figure before, but never like this. Never with her skin giving off heat and her muscles twitching expectantly. Never with Jane's hands wandering over her body leaving goose bumps in their wake. Then, suddenly, Maura grasped Jane and turned her around. She pushed aside Jane's dark hair and her mouth touched the back of her neck. As she unzipped Jane's dress her kisses, and occasional gentle bites, moved down her back. The little black dress eventually fell to the floor, and Maura's hands moved up the curve of Jane's spine to unhook her bra. Jane turned around as the garment fell to the floor. Maura's eyes fell to Jane's exposed breasts, her nipples already growing hard. The honey blond bit her lip. Jane suddenly felt self conscious, and Maura could tell by the way she shifted awkwardly. Maura kissed Jane reassuringly, turning the two of them around as she did so and pressing Jane backward onto the bed. Maura climbed on top of Jane, her hands moving up Jane's arms to her wrists. She pinned Jane's arms above her head and kissed her again. The brunette looked up at her with a slight frown and an amused grin. She had never really thought of herself as a bottom, but if she hadn't guessed before, Jane knew now, as the honey blond looked down at her possessively, Maura was definitely a top. The honey blonde’s kisses moved down Jane's jaw and to her ear. "You're so fucking beautiful," Maura whispered, her breath on her neck. Jane might have been surprised by Maura's sudden use of language if she not been very much distracted by the sudden pressure on her center coming from the forceful movement of Maura's thigh between her legs. The brunette attempted to buck her hips up for more, but Maura had moved. She had gotten the information she was seeking, it was evident on her thigh, and soaking through Jane's panties. Jane's eyes opened wide; she looked up at Maura incredulously. Jane was so ready for her, she could feel it aching and dripping in her center, but Maura merely looked down at her appreciatively. Frustrated, Jane struggled free from Maura's grasp and reached around to unhook her bra. If Maura was going to tease her, Jane was at least going to get a good look at Maura's perfect breasts. When they slipped from her silky lingerie, Jane was unable to resist the urge to cup her hands around them. Maura gasped as Jane's long fingers squeezed greedily around her full breasts. Her head fell back, and she moaned as Jane's middle and pointer fingers pinched at her budded nipples. She struggled to maintain her posture over Jane, but after several more pinches her legs buckled under her and her aching core pressed hard onto Jane's stomach. The two women gasped, Jane at the sensation of Maura's dripping center on her abs and Maura at the sudden pressure on her throbbing clit. Maura arched into Jane's hands, aching for those long, nimble fingers to be inside her. Suddenly, Jane's hands moved to Maura's waist, pulling Maura down on top of her. She brought her mouth to Maura's right breast and sucked greedily on her hardened nipple. Maura's hands fell to the bed where she struggled to steady herself. Fuck, Jane is good at this, Maura thought as the brunette's tongue circled her nipple. Then she moved to the other breast, her ministrations growing ever more fervent, more daring. I wander where else that tongue would be useful, Maura dared to imagine. It was that thought that caused Maura's impatience to grow to an unbearable level. So, quite suddenly she pressed her lips against Jane's. She needed to taste her, every bit of her. With one last hard suck on Jane's bottom lip she moved her lips south down her neck, to her chest. She moved as slowly as she could possibly manage, sucking greedily on one breast and then the other, nibbling lightly on each nipple and licking it with one long, greedy stroke of her tongue. Jane arched into Maura's mouth with every kiss, every bite, every lick as she moved down Jane's stomach to her panty-line. Maura looked up towards Jane's face briefly. She wanted to make sure she was okay with this. But Jane's head was trust back into the pillows, her hands grasping at the sheets below her. Maura placed a kiss on the moistened spot on Jane's panties. She smiled at the way Jane bucked her hips up into her mouth. Jane's delicious scent wafted into Maura's nose, causing her mouth to water. "Please," Jane whimpered softly. Maura rewarded her with another kiss, this time sucking gently on the moisture there. Jane tasted delicious and Maura could barely restrain herself from simply moving the cloth aside and pressing her mouth full on to Jane's center. Instead, she slowly removed Jane's underwear, placing kisses up her thighs as she moved back up to her goal, tossing Jane's underwear to the floor. Jane's legs widened as Maura's kisses moved up her other thigh. She let out a deep, guttural moan as Maura's lips finally surrounded the bud of nerves buried in the dark, neat curls between her legs. The honey blond sucked greedily on Jane's clit, her moans growing louder and her hips bucking harder. Maura placed a hand on Jane's stomach, her abs pulsing under her fingers. She flicked her tongue over the bud gently, with the occasional broad stroke over her folds. "Maura!" Jane moaned pleadingly. The sensations that the honey blond was sending through Jane's body she hardly thought possible. Still, she ached for Maura to be inside of her, to fill her. Just when she thought she was going to have to plead again she felt Maura slip one finger deep inside. She moved in and out in time with her tongue on Jane's clit, curling her finger up as she pulled out, and pressing deeper as she moved in. Just when Jane was just about to give into the urge to beg for more, Maura added another finger. Jane squeezed around her and moaned loudly at the sensations growing deep within her core and swelling outward. Maura was about to add a third finger, loving the feel of Jane's walls constricting around her hand, when suddenly, Jane grasped at her head desperately. Maura let herself be pulled to Jane's face and onto Jane's lips. She adjusted her fingers accordingly. At first, Jane was startled by the strange taste of herself on Maura's mouth, but then Maura's thrusts resumed their pace and curl into Jane's core, and her palm pressed against her clit. Jane wrapped her shaking arms around Maura's neck as she moved kisses down Jane's jawline. Jane's mouth opened, as if to scream, but no sound came out. Sweet ecstasy washed over her whole body. She quaked underneath Maura, her nails digging painfully deep into the smaller woman's shoulders. The honey blond continued her movements for some time, trying to extend the brunette's pleasure. "Maur!" Jane cried, sound finally erupting from her mouth as she experienced one final flush of pleasure. Jane collapsed beneath her lover. "Maura…" Jane said, gasping for breath as she lay beside her. She searched her brain for some way to describe how mind-blowingly awesome that was, but she could think of no intelligent way of saying so. Suddenly, as Jane's mind began to clear, that nervousness began to return. What if she couldn't do any of that right? What if she couldn't pleasure Maura, no less give her the best orgasm of her life? Maura clearly had more experience than she did. How was Jane supposed to compete with that? Then Maura kissed her knowingly, and, seeing the worry in Jane's eyes, guided Jane's hand down into her underwear and deep into her soaking folds. Jane's fingers slipped easily over Maura's aching clit, causing her to shiver and arch into Jane's hand. Encouraged by Maura's heaving chest and parting legs, Jane maneuvered herself above her. Eagerly Jane slipped the Maura's panties off her legs, revealing a neat, dark blond patch of hair. Jane could not help but smile as her eyes swept up every perfect aspect of Maura's figure, her smooth abs, the smooth, pale skin of her chest, the luscious curves of her breasts, the pulsing veins moving up her neck, the sharp features of her face, those hypnotizing hazel eyes. She propped herself up with the other arm so she could watch the pleasure she caused play out on Maura's face. Maura's hands grasped at the bed sheets as Jane rubbed gentle circles around her clit. As Jane increased the pressure, Maura's knuckles grew pale and her breathing hitched. She bucked into Jane's fingers as she found the right stroke. Jane's confidence grew as the honey blond came closer and closer to her climax, her moans growing ever louder. Jane watched the movements of Maura’s face. Her eyes were screwed shut, and she struggled to breathe through her nose. Her ragged breaths quickened as Jane pressed deeper and faster. Then, Maura’s jaw slackened, and she pressed her head back into the pillow. "Jane," Maura moaned loudly. The brunette thought at first that Maura meant for her to stop, but as soon as Jane went to move, Maura's grabbed her hand, holding her in place. Almost immediately, though, Maura loosened her grip, peering up at Jane. Jane frowned at her, trying to read her expression. "It’s okay…" Maura tried to reassure her, but she had been so close. She didn't want to make Jane feel like she had to do anything she wasn't comfortable with, but she really, really didn't want her to stop either. Jane shook her head. “I don’t want to stop,” she whispered, gazing at her. “As long as you’re okay.” “Yes,” Maura nodded, pulling her into a quick kiss. She added pleadingly, “please don’t stop.” Maura’s eyes closed the moment Jane continued. She moaned loudly as Jane quickly brought her back to the precipice of pleasure. “I love you,” Jane whispered as Maura’s body stiffened. "Jane!" Maura moaned as she came. Her whole body shivered, pulsing with ecstasy. Jane buried Maura’s mouth in a kiss. She continued the movements of her hand, curling her fingers to bring Maura extra pleasure. "Fuck!" Maura moaned as her head tossed back suddenly and her back arched and her hips bucked into Jane's hand. The honey blond was overcome with another tidal wave of pleasure as she squeezed around Jane's strong fingers. Maura grasped tightly at Jane's neck, making it difficult for Jane to continue. But continue she did, thrusting in and out of Maura until every last twitch had ceased and Maura lay still, panting for breath. After a few minutes Maura opened her eyes and looked up at Jane, who was still peering down at her. Jane had a slightly worried expression evident in her furrowed eyebrows and searching coffee brown eyes. The honey blond smiled up at her, wrapping her arms around her gently and touching her lips to Jane's. It was a sweet, tender kiss, filled with wordless praise. Jane lay down next to Maura, their legs intertwined and their arms still wrapped around each other. Maura's hazel eyes gazed into Jane's russet colored eyes. A shy smile spread over the brunette's face at last, she had done well after all—more than well. "I love you, Jane Rizzoli." Maura whispered with her eyes firmly locked in Jane's gaze. "I love you, too." Jane murmured before nuzzling her face into the crook of Maura's neck. "So much it scares me." The two were silent, breathing softly, holding each other closely. Nothing need be said. Maura grasped Jane tightly, showing her that she understood. Jane pulled the covers over them, and nuzzled into Maura once again, yawning sleepily. Maura glanced at the clock; it was nearly 1 am. Tomorrow would be a long day with only a few hours of sleep, but that hardly bothered her. If the cost was a little less sleep, Maura would gladly spend every night like this. Jane could feel sleep overtaking her. For a moment, she feared falling asleep. What if she awoke and all this had been a dream? But then Maura kissed her hair and sighed contentedly. This is right where I belong, they both thought as they dozed off.   The End

Sunnydale, Spike thought, was turning out to be a right pisser. Not only had it seen his defeat at the hands of a bottle-blonde Slayer with a smart mouth and too many accessories, but it had been the beginning of the end of things with Dru. And now here he was, back in this demon-forsaken town. Bereft of his girl, his direction, his joie de fucking vive, only to be confronted by Angel, of all the bloody luck, still sniffing around the Slayer. Not even a good killing, it seemed, could make the Great Poof keep it in his pants. Spike ground out yet another cigarette and sneered at the lighted windows of the Crawford Street house. So much for staying there. He'd have to scout out another abandoned property, or actually break into his stash and shell out like a real boy. Fucking hell. Instead of searching for a squat, he ended up wandering into the magic supply store, images of pestilent boils bubbling in his whisky-sodden head. Which was starting to hurt. The too-perky voice of the little red-headed wanna-be hurt, too, and he watched her trip out with her bag of components with a thoughtful look on his face. Fuck Angel, Dru was his only real concern, here. The shopkeeper popped up then, abrasive voice and condescending eyebrow and all, and Spike was out of patience. She tasted of sandalwood and antimony, and Spike cleaned out her cash drawer and purse, smirking. Later, at the factory, Spike watched the girl hovering over her beau, if that's what he was. Dark-haired boy with a sharp chin and tired eyes and Spike remembered him. Remembered him quite clearly, suddenly, the tableau coming to unnatural clarity in his head as the boy stirred on the bed and then sank bank, groaning. Angelus' little friend – little after-dinner treat that he'd never got to have. So, he had him. Salt and iron and adrenaline, hormones and terror. It was heady. Spike accidentally backhanded the girl, getting her off him as he was drinking, and she lay on the floor with a bloody nose and a crooked wrist, unconscious, useless, now, probably. Spike sighed, sulking for a bit. Gulping down the last of his whisky and then moodily fed the near-dead boy a good mouthful of blood. After that, he left. Back to Brazil, back to Dru. Back to the one constant in his life. And he forgot, all over again.   It was really just too ironic that the Gem of bloody Amara was in Sunnydale. Spike took a long drag of his smoke and leaned back in his chair, free hand idly toying with his empty glass. Around him, the boys and girls of the city danced and drank and did their mating thing, impossibly young. Pleasingly fragrant with hormones and blood just under the surface, clean sweat and sex-musk. Spike flicked a bit of earth off the knee of his jeans and let his gaze skim the room. Tunneling was hungry work, and he and the crew Brian had put together had been hard at it most of the day. Time for a little R&R – rest and refreshment. As he mulled his choices, he grew aware of someone watching him. He glanced around, but didn’t see anyone in particular – not the Slayer, certainly, and no one he knew. But there was a frisson of awareness over his nerves – someone’s attention, making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He got another drink and swallowed it down then stood and moved toward the stairs leading to the mezzanine. Better vantage – high ground. It was slightly less crowded up there, and a good bit dimmer. The air was blue and red and amber from the stage lights, hazy with cigarette smoke. Spike found an unoccupied corner, nothing but space behind him, and waited. A moment later, his tracker appeared. Dark hair, dark eyes, lean body under a battered leather jacket and worn jeans – one of his kind. Spike felt a smirk forming on his lips. Someone in the mood to make a scene – make a little noise. Some nobody, trying to be a somebody. Hazard of being a Slayer of Slayers, that – your reputation preceded you. Spike dragged down the last quarter-inch of his smoke and dropped the butt into a handy glass – stood up and leaned against the railing, making a show of looking down over the crowd. His shadow skirted the couples making out, edgy little dance through the pockets of dark, and a moment later was sidling up to the railing, hitching closer than Spike really wanted. Spike turned, finally, hip against the rail and a little smirk on his face, just waiting. The other stopped short and stared at him, and then grinned, wide and blinding, the manic sparkle in those dark eyes all too familiar. “I knew you’d come back. I knew it.” Spike reached into his coat and drew out his smokes – occupied himself with selecting one and tucking the pack away, lighting the cigarette and sliding his Zippo into his pocket. He drew in a lungful of smoke and let it out again, grey-blue plume straight at the other vampire. "Did you, now? And how's that?" "Because you had to. Because you…you made me." The vampire lifted a hand, as if to touch, and let it drop. "You'd never just…leave. Leave me." He stepped forward, into a swath of slightly brighter light, and Spike knew – just like he'd known before – who it was. "I know you," Spike said. He snapped his fingers two or three times, thinking. "You're…the witch's little puppy. Rex or Fido or something." "Xander," the other said, and then he grinned harder, inching closer. "I knew you'd know me. I waited, waited right here…." The boy swayed a little, mouth slightly open. Scenting, Spike knew. Tasting the air. On this vamp, it looked a bit…animal. His eyes were half shut and his fingers were curling, as if he wanted to touch – to get tangled up in Spike and pull him close. It made Spike shiver. "Waited, I waited…." he murmured, and Spike wondered if he was forever destined to attract pretty, crazy brunettes. "Bloody boring place to wait out an unlife," Spike said, and Xander blinked, spell broken. "Thought sure you'd have packed it in." Spike slumped back against the rail, studying him. He looked – good. Well, not bad. A little thin, maybe. A little twitchy. But Spike was used to twitchy, after all. "Imagine the Slayer's been after you, eh?" Xander flinched and shot a quick look over his shoulder. "She – she – she – did. She was. I woke up and I could hear them and Willow was there all…." The vamp made a face, hands moving. Spike had no earthly idea what he was trying to communicate. "And I bit her but there wasn't time so I just had a taste and I was hungry but B– the Slayer was coming so I ran." "At least you're not daft." Spike looked around in vain for an abandoned drink and finally pulled his flask from an inner pocket and took a long pull. Xander watched with the kind of manic attention usually only seen in ferrets and lunatics, dark eyes tracking every movement. "There's a lot of tunnels around here. I was down in them once. I just…I hid, and I…you know…." Xander leaned against the rail in a parody of ease, hands trembling a little and his shoulders drawn up tight. He leaned in, and Spike could smell old blood on him. Old blood and leather and earth, pizza sauce and desperation. "Vamps are like meth heads." "What does that mean?" "Means they like to jump out and grab people and bite but then they get…distracted. They let go and grab somebody else or they – they – they don't pay enough attention and they get staked. Kinda accidentally. You know." Xander grinned suddenly, looking up at Spike from his slouch, hair across his eyes and his teeth gleaming. He looked predatory, suddenly, in a way he hadn't yet and Spike resisted the urge to grin back. "And then there's all these…bodies everywhere still all, you know…warm. And moving a little. And it's a shame to just…leave 'em." "Crying shame," Spike said. He tucked his flask away again and studied the boy. There really was something not quite right about him. Something just…weird. But Spike kinda liked it. "It's like littering and I just, I just, I just…come along and pick them up." "Proper little scavenger." Xander looked at him sharply, eyes narrow. "I don't attack them. I don't, I don't, I just…clean up. She can't – it's not – the same. Can't be mad at me if I don't…." "Who can't be mad at you?" Xander edged closer yet and Spike watched the long-fingered hand lift up again and touch the hem of Spike's sleeve. Rub at the leather a little, gently. "Slayer, Willow, they can't…can't…can't be mad if I don't hurt anybody that's not already…." He looked around, nervous dart of eyes and head and then back at Spike, that manic grin breaking free, sudden hectic flash of green across his eyes. "Not already dead, right? Already dead so I put them out of their misery so that's a good thing, right?" "It absolutely is," Spike said, and Xander laughed. It was high-pitched and grating, and Spike thought he might want to slap him for it but he choked it off in a moment, ducking his head again, fingers crumpling the edge of Spike's sleeve. "So, now, you're back and I'm here and we can…we'll just…." "You'll just come work for me, then," Spike said, and Xander followed him down the stairs and out of the Bronze without a word. Spike could get used to that.   Four days later, he was used to it, but it was a little…weird. Xander was weird, and Spike watched him skulk in the shadows and clean up the scraps behind Spike's feeding like a sewer rat, collecting every drop. Hunting – his version of hunting – was a sideways dance aimed more at the other predators than the prey, and Spike watched with amused fascination as Xander actually staked a beefy vamp in the midst of a kill, coughing out dust and then draining the hapless victim dry with a snap and snarl. Occasionally, there was a bit of worrying over ragged flesh and once the cracking and sucking of a thigh-bone from a particularly bedraggled meal and Spike finally got it. Wheelchair bound, he's spent a lot of time watching telly. "You've got something wrong with you, mate, know that?" he said, and Xander licked at the blood on the side of his mouth and grinned, unnerving cackle rattling out of his chest. Hyena's bray, and Spike wondered how in the hell that had happened. But this was Sunnydale, after all – Hellmouth and locus of all things trippy. "Your mum a were or something?" "Where what? Wear? What are you talking about?" "Whatever's in you – besides the demon." "Oh." Xander stood up from his crouch, wiping his palms on his thighs. The alley was dim, but his eyes caught the light, greengage flash like no vamp on Earth and Spike grinned hard around his cigarette, liking the fucked up-ness of it all. "There was this…zookeeper guy. He was kinda crazy. He did this spell only it hit me and us and then…we were a pack, we – we….." He stopped and took a long breath – pushed past Spike and into an easy lope, general direction of the cemetery and Spike's crypt. Spike trotted after – caught up with him at the cemetery gate. "I had a pack and then he took it all back but not all of it and I'm still, we're still…." "Still in there." Spike leaned next to Xander against the dressed stone of the wall, watching as the boy sniffed the air and gazed up at the moon and down at his boots. "Where's the rest?" Xander shrugged. "Couple of 'em moved. We killed…we – we killed this guy and…they were really fucked up and one of the girls had a baby and one of the guys killed himself and…and…and it was like…it was like we had the same heart, and we had….we had…." Xander's breathe ran out in something like a sob, something like a growl, his hands moving in frustrated, choppy arcs. "It was good, it was…it was…warm and there wasn't any…any…." "Miss it then, do you?" Spike said, and Xander sighed hard and leaned, all unexpected, into Spike's side. Well, maybe not unexpected. He'd been working himself up to touching Spike for days, and Spike had watched and waited and wondered if he'd ever get the courage. The need in the boy was a tangible thing, and Spike liked the anticipation of it all almost more than the consummation. Almost. Xander was hot from the kill – spiced with blood and the fear-sweat of the dead, steeped in his own scents of leather and earth and clove-sweet soap. Xander's face tucked into Spike's neck, and Spike could feel his eyelashes against the skin of his throat, fluttering a little. "Miss it so fucking much, it hurts, it's like a hole, I need, I need….." "I know what you need," Spike said. He let his hand slide down Xander's shoulder – curl around his ribs and tug him in closer, heavy weight between Spike's thighs, against his belly. Petting up under the jacket and ragged t-shirt, feeling silky skin and the flat trace of ribs – the quick lift and fall of muscle and bone as Xander breathed. "Had to wait, needed you to come back, thought I was going to die, felt like I was dying," Xander murmured, pressing in closer and letting his hand settle on Spike's chest. "You're not dying," Spike said, and tipped Xander's chin up. The light from down the street caught his eyes and flashed green, eerie and otherworldly, and Spike leaned in and pressed their mouths together. Xander tasted like blood and something sweet, and he made a breathy little whimpering sound when Spike pulled away. "Let's go inside, yeah? Wouldn't do to be interrupted," Spike said, and Xander showed his teeth in a soundless snarl. "Don't care who sees." "Neither do I, pet. Just don't like fighting with my gear all undone." Spike pressed the palm of Xander's hand to his cock, hard line under worn black denim, and Xander grinned, fingers curling instinctively, stroking. Spike leaned into his touch for a moment and then pushed him away, slung an arm over his shoulders and got them both moving. The crypt itself was dark, but down underneath, in the tunnels and chambers that seemed to honeycomb Sunnydale Below, candles were burning, thick white pillars that put off no scent but some small heat. The bed Spike had dragged down was rumpled – unmade and debauched-looking, and Spike pushed Xander down onto it, determined to make him as debauched as the tangled linen. Xander seemed all huge eyes and long limbs, fingers twisting nervously in the sheets, and Spike shed his coat and boots and crawled up over him, licking his lips. "You're a treat, boy. All new at this, aren't you? Fresh and new…." "I'm not…I'm not a virgin, not a virgin," Xander muttered, and Spike laughed softly. "Didn't say you were. But this –" Spike shoved a knee between Xander's thighs and ground down a little, hip to hip, and Xander gasped and arched, his chin going up, this throat laid out, pale-gold and long, so damn enticing. "This is new, isn't it?" "Sss…" Xander hissed. He gulped and arched again, his hands fluttering uncertainly at Spike's hips. "Sspike, Spike…." "Go on then, touch me, don't you want to?" Xander hesitated for a long moment and then he was pushing at the edges of the red silk button-up Spike had on – pushing and shoving and getting it off Spike's shoulders – leaving it tangled around his wrists. He jerked at the black t-shirt underneath – dragged it out of Spike's waistband and up, bunching the fabric. Dark eyes locked on Spike's revealed belly and chest, his fingers running lightly over ribs and breastbone and then, shaky, nipples. "That's good, yeah, like that…" Xander looked up at him and then that grin flashed across his face, feral and toothy and wicked and he snaked his head up, fast, and put his mouth on Spike's chest. Sucked a nipple between his lips and then bit, human teeth no match for fangs, but it hurt nonetheless. Hurt like it should; sharp and deep and hot, spreading, and Spike jerked and laughed and tangled his fingers in Xander's long hair – yanked his head back. "Don't take liberties, boy. You should ask first." "Rather ask forgiveness than permission," Xander said, licking his lips, and Spike twisted his fist – arched Xander's head back, exposing the long column of his throat, and darted down to nip at the vulnerable flesh. He didn't bother with human teeth. Xander's blood all but sizzled on his tongue, tainted with magic, suffused with the other, altogether different and strange. Spike drew and swallowed and pulled slowly back, licking at the wounds, and Xander shuddered. "Forgiven. Now get your kit off."   Naked, Xander was lean – a little scarred – lightly dusted with dark, fine hair. Spike took his time exploring every inch – testing and tasting and watching with an amused grin just what made his boy keen and writhe, jerk and gasp, moan and twist and beg. He made little bee-stings of bites all along the pale gold of Xander's body, and Xander smeared the blood on his fingertips and gave them to Spike to suck. Made his own marks, fingers sinking deep enough into pale flesh to bruise, fangs scoring lightly along bunched muscle and the thin skin that rode between air and bone. Spike dug a half-squashed tube of some sort of slick out from between the pillows and rolled Xander over – hauled him ass-up and spread wide, and watched in fascination as Xander's body clenched and pushed and relaxed around Spike's fingers. "Like that, then?" he murmured, and Xander made a wordless noise against the sheets, twisting his head to look back. Demon's face, ridged and fanged and golden-eyed, but the candles caught that flash of green, animal and eerie, and Spike surged to his knees and lined himself up – pushed in, half an inch – inch. Xander's voice rumbled down in his chest, no words, and he leaned back, muscles tense under Spike's hand, drawing Spike in, deeper and faster, and Spike gave in and just moved. He ran his hands up Xander's back to curl over the thin shoulders – jerked Xander back hard and ground against him and Xander gave a moan that was edging to a howl, back bowed and head down, nails shredding the sheets. Spike slid his hand down and around and squeezed Xander's cock, brutal strokes, the muscles of Xander's belly rippling against his wrist. Xander braced his hands and pumped himself backward, fucking himself in choppy jerks and twisting rolls of his hips, and Spike hauled him upright and locked one arm across his chest. He bent his mouth to Xander's shoulder and let his fangs scrape – catch – sink in, skin popping like a fresh apple, blood eddying into his mouth like old, thick wine as Xander's whole body shuddered into a breathless, mindless convulsion of sheer bliss. Spike's hand went slick and then sticky on Xander's cock and he smeared come up Xander's back – shoved him flat and arched over him and fucked in hard, chasing his own orgasm and finding it in moments, licking at blood-drops and registering Xander's mouth on his fingers, lapping. "Christ, pet. That was lovely," Spike said, sprawling down over the still-shivering body under him, and Xander bit down on Spike's finger and grinned.   Three days later, they found the Gem. Spike stared in fascination at the cross in his hand, no smoke or pain or that horrible, glaring light. Xander was off to one side of the chamber, picking through heaps of coins and strings of gems, not knowing enough to sort real from paste but sticking to small, portable items. Magpie at heart, Spike thought, and turned the ring on his finger. "Got it, then?" Xander asked, and Spike sauntered over, tossing the jeweled cross aside and picking up a hide-bound book instead. It was bound with strips of what looked like platinum, studded with stones shaped into cabochons, a rainbow of colors. It had a little lock, and Spike poked idly at it with the pin of an ugly, toad-shaped brooch. "Got it. Got enough here to live high for years. Get my hat trick, head out. Show you the world." Xander looked at him from under his fringe of heavy hair, sifting coins and loose jewels through his fingers. "Do you really want to do that?" "Do what?" "Kill B-Buffy? I mean, I mean, I… With the ring and all, it's just…not really you, is it?" "What do you mean?" Spike asked, irritable now – jamming the brooch pin harder into the lock and feeling metal give. "I mean, it's…you didn't need the ring before. Not for the Chinese Slayer, not for the one in New York. It's like, it's like…cheating." "Cheating? This isn't the bloody schoolyard, boy." The lock sprang open and Spike flipped through the book. Latinate – untidy – spells of some sort. Christ. "No, but, but…." Xander shrugged – edged over a little closer and put his hand out, flat, on Spike's chest. Light as a bird, barely pressing, and Spike shivered. "Don't you want it to be just you? Don't you want to just be, just…be better?" Spike tossed the book down and jerked Xander closer – ran his fingers up into Xander's hair and let his thumbs rest on Xander's jaw, tipping his head back. "You just want to spare your precious Slayer, don't you, pet? After all this time…." Xander sighed – leaned into Spike and let his hands slide around Spike's waist. "I can't…can't…help… She's just, she…it's… It's Buffy, Spike. I…just…." His dark eyes were huge, his hands bunching in Spike's shirt, and Spike stared at him for a long moment. Snorted, finally, and pressed their mouths together. Kissed Xander until Xander was limp and pliable against him, hard in his jeans, panting for air he didn't need. "Sod it all, love. Bet you've never been to New York, have you? Bloody amazing place." "No," Xander said, his mouth curling up into that wickedly demented grin. "I've never seen it." "Come on, then – sun's nearly down. Got work to do." Spike kissed him again, fleeting, and looked down at the ring on his finger. "Some other time, then, eh?" "I want to go to Times Square," Xander said. "Eat a tourist." "Always thinking with your belly," Spike huffed, and Xander laughed – hyena's mad cackle – and Spike dragged that fanged mouth down for another kiss. All the time in the world, really. All the time in the world.

hand in hand, quackity, karl and sapnap walked along the prime path after coming from a date in the woods. karl had set up candles, bringing all sorts of desserts, and the three had a wonderful night together.  it was just after the sun had set and the three were walking back to their home when karl stopped suddenly, turning his head and searching for something. “karl?” sapnap asked, noticing him stopped since he had been in the middle. “i hear someone crying,” he muttered, then tugged the other two towards where he was hearing it. quackity and sapnap were straining their ears to hear what karl was, but couldn’t. eventually they came across tommy and tubbo’s beloved bench, finding one of them hunkered close on the bench and the other frantically trying to rock and comfort him. “tommy? tubbo?” karl called, rushing over to the two of them. they looked up, eyes filled with tears. tubbo’s breathing was too quick and words started tumbling out of tommy’s mouth, mostly babbles that none of them could understand. sapnap and karl were aware of panic attacks, both kneeling down before the two and going through breathing exercises. karl pulled tubbo close and sapnap held tommy’s hands. quackity wasn’t sure what to do, standing back to let the other two help, standing by if he was needed for anything.  the two youngest calmed down slowly, tubbo leaning heavily on karl with half lidded eyes and tommy playing with sapnap’s hands while brushing his tears away with his sleeves. “can you tell us what happened?” sapnap asked gently. tubbo and tommy shared a look. “sam an’ puffy were arguin’,” the younger slurred. “yellin’.” “they were yelling?” dual nods answered them. “did they hurt you?” they shook their heads. “just scary?” “mhm,” tubbo hiccuped. “sammy eyes go red.” “that’s not very nice,” karl said, gently rocking. “did that make you feel small?” the two nodded again. age regression was common on the smp, tommy and tubbo being two of many littles on the server. sapnap cared for tommy sometimes when he was in his terrible toddler years and karl cared for nearly all the littles many times. quackity was lacking in the caregiver department since schlatt never let anyone be little around him and didn’t know who was little or not. it seemed one of the cabinet members had been and he had no idea. “how old are the cutest littles feeling?” karl asked, earning a giggle from tubbo and pout from tommy. the shorter gave two fingers while tommy gave four. “was big brother tommy taking care of you, tubbo?” the little ram hybrid nodded, curly hair flying around. “ka’l make better too!” “saps too,” tommy added. karl and sapnap smiled. “i make you feel better too? i’m so glad! how about i make you feel even better with some cuddles and hot chocolate?” the two nodded excitedly. karl picked up tubbo on his hip and sapnap picked up tommy on his back for a piggyback ride since he was significantly taller. quackity was still hanging off to the side.  “come on, q,” karl said with a smile, holding out his free hand.  “i know this is a little out of your league,” sapnap said to him as they walked back to their place.  quackity laughed nervously. “yea, sorry i’m no help.” “don’t apologize. we were all unsure at first, but it kinda comes naturally, or they make it easy. tommy likes playing with blocks and cars and tubbo plays with stuffies. they’re good at entertaining themselves,” karl explained.  “it’s usually if a fight occurs or they’re hungry or thirsty,” sapnap added, rocking back and forth and making tommy laugh hysterical at the action. idle chatter about anything filled the group, mostly the littles telling them about their day before the argument occurred. tubbo was happy to talk about michael and ranboo, then tommy helped him explain their afternoon searching for diamonds which lead to them dancing around their jukebox because they couldn’t find a single vein. once they made it to the fiances’ house, karl offered to change the littles into more comfortable clothing, holding tubbo and leading tommy upstairs by the hand. sapnap guided quackity into the kitchen for help making snacks and hot cocoa, using two sippy cups and three mugs. karl easily entertained one little while helping change the little and vice versa before both were in oversized sweaters and baggy sweatpants. tubbo had a yellow pacifier in his mouth with his bee plushie he kept at karl’s and tommy had his cow plushie he left. karl gave both a kiss on the forehead before helping them downstairs. “are we sleepy, little mates?” he asked them softly, noticing tubbo struggling to keep his eyes open as he rubbed them. tommy looked slightly more awake, but was still exhausted from the panic attack earlier. however, he shook his head reluctantly. “well, bee seems kind of tired, tom-tom. how about we watch a movie and cuddle with him so he doesn’t feel alone?” tommy looked to his best friend, before nodding. “otay, k’arl. i keeps bee com- con- cop-” “company,” karl gently supplied. “we all will. quackity, sapnap and i are exhausted from our walk around the smp.” “i keeps you co’pany too!” tommy stated determinedly, before guiding tubbo to the couch and getting him all wrapped up in a blanket. tubbo giggled at his antics, before tugging him down with him. karl smiled gently and glanced at his fiances in the kitchen, finding them smiling and talking as quackity poured milk into three mugs and two sippy cups. he turned back to the littles and sat beside them, initiating a tickle fight and peeling high pitched laughter from both of them. “alright, alright!” sapnap said, chuckle in his voice as he entered the room with two mugs in his hand. quackity was behind him with a smile, mug in one hand and sippys held in the other. “settle down, silly monsters.” tommy sat up and did a mini roar playfully. tubbo did the same, tackling karl into the couch. sapnap rolled his eyes and set the mugs on the table on coasters, quackity doing the same and holding the sippys. “if the monsters don’t settle, they’re not going to get their hot chocolate,” quackity sang out, making the two littles sit up and stop roaring quickly. “p’ease!” tubbo asked, holding out his grabby hands.  “can we p’ease have hot chocolate?” tommy asked, hands folded together. “oh~ now we got some angels,” karl teased. “of course, you can,” quackity added, handing tubbo the green sippy and tommy the red one. the two thanked him before sitting back on the couch and taking a few sips. sapnap picked a movie on the television, earning a quiet ‘love dis mobie’ from tubbo, before all five of them squeezed onto the couch. tommy squished between quackity and sapnap, while tubbo crawled into karl’s lap. several blankets had to be spread across the five of them. despite how tight it was and how childish the movie was, all of them were content, warm and happy about the positions they were all in. and if they fell asleep like that and woke with bad pains in their necks and backs, well it was worth the smiles and thank yous from the younger boys.

The clearing Percy had settled into was a gorgeous one; the mountains in the foreground were speckled with snow, and the wilderness branching out around him seemed to capture the sunlight in all its magnificence, bathing the entire area in a brilliant orange light that soaked into his skin. The flowers next to the demigod seemed to bristle at his intrusion, which did send a few warning signs sparking up Percy's spine. The last thing he needed was to piss off some nymph or nature spirit by sitting on them, or trespassing in their gardens. The plants he'd wound up near were a striking crimson, small but many. The aroma wafting from them was both sweet and spicy, and while relaxing, Percy could tell he'd never be able to fall asleep here, with that smell hitting his nostrils. The trident splayed into his lap as he sat down, the golden metal reflecting the light of the sun off its three pointed heads. He'd told Alister he needed a moment alone, but he had neglected to mention why. The weapon willed to him by his father was the one thing that had given Percy the strength to tell his friends the truth earlier that day; before, he'd always struggled with words, especially when it came to baring his heart in full. Annabeth had been given glimpses of it, and his mother knew him well, but even they hadn't yet been granted an unobstructed view of Percy, in all his faults and successes. Yet, he'd done it; he'd shared how he really felt about his loved ones, with all of them watching. The trident had supported him, but in the end, it was he himself who had done that. Was it the loss of his father, that had brought it on? Nicola's "death"? Hearing Rey's struggles? Alister's pain? Thomas' confessions? Or was it all of the above? That had to be it; these demigods had only ever known him as Percie Jackson, before the last few days. Yet, they'd been unflinching in their resolve, their loyalty, and their love. They'd trusted him with their darkest secrets, things they'd never told anyone else. Did Percie really mean so much to them that they couldn't help returning the devotion, even when she was a he? Or... had Percy done that himself? He'd shared his past with Thomas and Nicola; Rey got to hear the unrated version of it, as well as Poseidon. Whether he'd realized it or not, he'd returned the same love shown to him. These revelations hit him one by one as he sat there, letting the trident vibrate in his grip. The ancient weapon buzzed as Percy took a two-handed hold on it, bringing it up gently so he could rest his forehead against its teeth. Poseidon had trusted him with it for a reason; even before the swap, the sea god had confessed to Percy that he was the Olympian's favorite child. He had a funny way of showing it... up until now, anyway. His father had literally given up everything for him. Who knew what the god was facing down in the Pit, even at this moment? And now here he was, holding the one thing Poseidon valued more than anything else... aside from Percy. The trident warmed against his skin, and for a brief moment, the demigod would have sworn his father was standing at his side. "There's nothing this world could throw at you that you can't overcome," Poseidon's voice echoed in his head. "I have not been fully honest with you, or even a halfway-decent father, but I've never once doubted you." Percy had no choice but to believe his father's words; how could he do so otherwise, holding the very thing the sea god had parted with to save his life? "Dad, I know you probably can't hear me right now, but... I miss you. There's so much I still need to say, but..." Percy took a breath, opening his eyes and holding the trident out in front of him, "... I won't let your faith in me be for nothing. I swear... the sea is in good hands." He meant it, too. The responsibilities of being the ruler of the ocean... he'd accepted them, there on the beach with Athena and Triton, but hadn't stopped to ponder the implications of that. Once Nicola had been rescued, he'd have to find a moment to speak to the other ocean deities. Many of them had witnessed him be granted his father's boon, but the follow up was required. "I can't be a passenger anymore," he muttered to himself. "I can't let my doubts take me over like that again; too much is riding on me, now. I'm not doing this for the world, or Olympus, or even myself. I'm doing this for the man who loved me more than I ever gave him credit for." The trident's aura shifted into a cerulean blue, casting the whole clearing in shades of the waves, before it quieted down again, returning the grove to its peaceful state once more. Percy rose to his feet, letting one more reassuring blast of power flow through him before he released the weapon, and it vanished into a poof of water vapor. He was just about to begin making his return to where Arion had stopped the benna when a coughing sound off to the side broke through the serenity of the clearing. "Gods, what was that?" a young man in a violet satin robe sputtered, lounging down amongst the red flowers. "I mean, seriously? If I wanted to get assaulted by water, I would have just stayed with my ex." Percy's hand instinctively went for Riptide, but he didn't immediatly uncap the pen. The strange boy, he couldn't have been more than sixteen, sat up, wiping his eyes as if he'd just been woken up by an unexpected alarm. In the light, Percy got a good look at him; his robes were a tad too big for him, hanging off his body onto the ground. He had curly auburn hair, swept away from his cream-colored eyes, and he was wearing no shoes on his feet whatsoever. "Are you some kind of nature spirit? Or just a really lost delivery guy?" Percy asked him. The boy flounced his eyelashes at the son of Poseidon. "Delivery guy? I'm not really dressed for the occasion, am I? No, sir. All I do is sit here, watching the world pass by me. Sometimes; most of the time, I just sit back and wait for some kind of company." The son of Poseidon absorbed this. "Okay... and just who are you?" "What, you mean you don't know?" "Not really; the world is kinda big, last time I checked." The boy rolled his eyes. "Of course not; of all the stories out there, mine is rarely ever told. I tried to get Calliope to at least make an advanced note of it, but I'm pretty sure she forgot the moment that stupid Oscar Wilde came onto the scene. Gods... I hate that man. He's the reason I don't go to Spain anymore." Percy bit his lip, trying to keep his more sarcastic side from erupting. For all he knew, this dude was some forgotten deity who'd been having a power nap for the last century, and was experiencing major mind-haze. "So, can I get your name then?" "Crocus," the boy answered, tousling his hair with one hand and pulling his legs in, so he could sit crisscrossed. From what Percy could tell, he wasn't wearing anything under that robe, either. Oh, boy. He really hoped Crocus didn't have to stretch out any time soon. That would give the demigod much more than he bargained for. "And... what's your story?" Percy asked, hoping to keep him talking long enough to avoid the accidental flashing just waiting to happen. "Oh, it's very dramatic, and depressing," Crocus answered, putting the back of his hand to his forehead. "Like so many other foolish boys running around Greece, I had the misfortune to fall in love with an immortal." "A god?" Percy guessed. "A nymph!" "A... a nymph?" "Yes!" Crocus' eyes flashed. "Smilax, her name was! Oh, she was a beauty to make even Aphrodite pale in jealousy. So sinewy, and strong. Lush, and nubile. I pursued her with a gallant air, but of course, nymphs are hardly faithful creatures. She refused me time and again, and finally, I, heartbroken, went to the gods themselves. I begged for them to strike me down, so I no longer had to live with my unrequited love tugging at my heart." Percy was at a loss for words for a moment; sure, love could stink, but it sounded like this dude just had a major crush, and let it drive him a tad insane. "And... did the gods grant your wish?" "Bah!" Crocus crossed his arms in a pout. "They did... but not the way I wanted. They were going to turn me into a plant!" The red flowers. Percy knew they seemed too sentient for his taste. "So... you're a plant now?" he questioned, too curious to leave the situation alone now. "Shhh! You're skipping the juicy parts," Crocus hushed him, giving the demigod an annoyed look. "Yes, that was the original idea, but I ended up catching the eye of one of the Olympians when I made my plea. I thought only Smilax could hold my heart; but no. I found love again... and this time, the target of my affections returned my desire in full. Oh... my precious Hermes... how I miss you sometimes." The boy hugged himself, apparently rejoicing in some very... spicy memories, if the scent emitting from the flowers in the area was anything to go by. Oh, gods. Had Crocus been having some kind of weird fantasy when Percy showed up? Was that why the flowers smelled so strong; so supple, and alluring? "So you fell in love with Hermes, then the gods turned you into a flower?" Crocus shrugged. "Well, at least they waited until I died first. Got to enjoy a whole three weeks with my beloved, in the meantime." "Three weeks?" Percy gasped. "What happened?" "Well, as punishment for breaking my heart the first time, the gods tuned Smilax into bindweed. I was overjoyed at that, so Hermes took me out for a night of discus throwing to celebrate. We threw it around, had some giggles, and then-" he held his hands up in a defenseless manner, "WHAM! Discus right to the head. Killed me dead, on the spot. Hermes was so distraught, he turned me into those!" The boy pointed to the red flowers. "Crocus saffron; better known today as just saffron. Not how I imagined my life would go, by any stretch, but it could be worse; I could have been turned into bindweed, like my ex." The son of the sea blustered for a minute at that statement. "Um... I didn't know saffron was native to the United States," he finally admitted. "Oh, it's not! Hermes just plants me wherever the gods set Olympus up, in case he wants to stop by and visit." The boy soured a little. "It... has been a while since I've seen him, though. I hope he hasn't forgotten about me. That's why I choose to manifest myself in this grove more often than not; it gives me a perfect view of the sky. That way, my love is a lot more likely to notice me when he's running around being a messenger and whatnot." "Seems... reasonable," Percy said, less out of sympathy, and more out of not knowing how to respond to that. "Wait; I thought it was Hyacinthus who was killed in the discus-throwing? And Apollo was his lover?" Crocus blinked. "He was... I think? I don't really know; maybe some wayward sect of Greeks got a mistranslated version of that story. Point is, still died to a discus, and still got turned into a flower by my grieving god-boyfriend. I don't know why that surprises you; heck, if I had a nickel for every time some Greek pretty boy got beaned by a flying object and memorialized by his same-sex Olympian partner by turning into flora... I'd only have two nickels, but it is weird that it happened twice." The boy mulled it over for a moment before giving up. "So... I shared my story. Now what's yours, and what was up with that salty display a moment ago?" Percy blanched. "My story... would take too long to cover in just one conversation. I hope you understand, Crocus." "Oh, yeah. No problem there; I forget that the lives of demigods tend to be even more dramatic and lovelorn than us normal mortals." He paused, then gave Percy a more mature look. "I did overhear some of your words to yourself, friend. If it's not too unwelcome, would you mind if I offered some words of advice?" "As long as those words don't involve my measurements, fire away." The saffron at his feet parted, like they were laughing. "Fair enough," Crocus chuckled. "Before I fully woke up, I heard what you were saying about not being a passenger anymore. Confidence is a good thing, friend. But don't let it give way to unsolicited pride." He gestured at himself. "I am not so oblivious as to my own faults; for all the love I have for Hermes, my affection to Smilax was still very much real, no matter how fleeting it was. Even if that love fades, that doesn't take away from what it gave you in the moments where you needed it. My connection to Hermes may have led to me dying young, but I wouldn't trade it for the world." Percy let the advice resonate with him for a moment. "So... you're saying that it's better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all? That's not the first time I've heard that." "Some things need to be repeated; I told Hermes how much he meant to me several times a day. I meant it each time, and each time, it was like he'd heard it for the first time all over again." The boy smiled; a real one. "Love is as real as you let it be. Some people can't, or won't, let it be sometimes, and that's fine. But for me, three weeks of happiness was worth whatever fate I might be experiencing now." The demigod sucked in a breath. "But Crocus... I'm not questioning my love, anymore. For my family, or my partner. In fact, for probably the first time ever, I feel confident in it. I have something new to fight for; without the doubts to hold me back." Crocus tilted his head. "And that's wonderful. But can you say the same for all of your inner circle?" Silence met him with that. "I may not know who you are, friend, but even I pay attention to my surroundings. My advice to you, while not something to be disregarded, wasn't technically for you. Rather, I delivered it so you could relay it to the person who needs to hear it more than anyone else." "And who's that?" Percy asked, bringing his guard up once again. "You'll know when the time comes; for what it's worth, I wish you, your partner, and your loved ones happiness." Crocus leaned back against the bed of saffron, letting the sun warm his front side. "I'll stay here for a moment; perhaps Hermes will feel me, and come ease some of my loneliness. No offense to you, my friend, but there are some parts of me I reserve only for my love." "Then I guess we're more alike than I previously thought, Crocus," Percy said, walking away, before tossing a look over his shoulder. "For what it's worth... thanks. And I'm sorry three weeks was all you got." "Better three than none, friend. Better three... than none." The flower-boy gazed up at the sky, putting one hand to his heart, as Percy left. The demigod walked back through the wilderness, thinking on the exchange he'd had with Crocus. Despite how rough his life had been, he seemed... satisfied. Granted, Percy had never experienced anything even resembling romantic love for Hermes, or any of the other gods, but if the messenger really could inspire such feelings in the heart of a mortal, and return them, perhaps Athena's words to him rang more true than he would have liked to believe. If something like that happened to Alister, or Annabeth, and even the vaguest possibility of it being Percy's fault existed, he'd never go out into the world again, godly requirements be damned. So many Olympians had loved, and lost. They had to take Crocus' words to heart; seeing your soulmates die, over and over again, would wear away at anyone, no matter how much fault they could pin on themselves. He was still musing over the goddess of wisdom's remark when he came in sight of the benna. Arion was unattached, trotting around nervously. When he saw Percy emerge from the shadows of the trees, he bounded over. "It's about time you got here, slowpoke!" the horse chastised. "There's been an incident!" Instantly, Percy's attitude snapped back to attention. "What happened?" "Have a look for yourself," Arion shot back, gesturing around the wagon. "If you took any longer, I was going to barrel into that forest and find you myself. Fucking daft, I tell you what. Having a lollygaggle out in the woods while we're hunting down a personification of deceit. Were you dropped on your head as a baby, or just take one too many blows to the empty skull up there on your shoulders?" Percy ignored the horse's insults, skirting around him and turning the corner of the benna. He found an unwelcome sight; Mina was crouched down low, with Alister at her side. The son of Athena was whispering in her ear, getting some fierce nods in return, while Hayden paced behind them, causing rubies to sprout from the earth with every anxious step he took. All three were hovering over Peter. The child of love looked terrible; he'd been laid out on the softest dirt the demigods could find, and thanks to that, Percy could see how weak his breathing had become. His delicate frame clung to his clothes, giving him a malnourished pallor to his skin. "What happened?" Percy repeated, kneeling down on Peter's other side. Alister shot him a startled look; apparently neither he nor Mina had heard the son of Poseidon approach as they tended to Peter. "I have no idea," he confessed. "I thought about what you said, Percy, and went to talk to him. When I found him... he looked completely freaked out when I spoke to him, and then just passed out. He tried to say something, but I couldn't make it out." Mina furrowed her brow. "Normally, passing out isn't too big a concern. But for him... it makes me nervous. He's too thin; his blood pressure is way too low for my liking. When he wakes up, I don't want anyone pressing him for questions." She gave all three boys a withering stare. "I'm serious; he needs rest. If he wants to talk, let him do it on his own. Percy-" she turned to him, "-get water from the benna. And while you're in there, see if you can find anything with a strong aroma; it might help him regain consciousness faster." Percy nodded, coming back with several bottles of water, and then made to bolt back into the woods. "Going somewhere?" Hayden asked, confused. "As it just so happens, I found the perfect thing if you're looking for a strong aroma; I'll be right back," he promised, sprinting off before they could ask him any more questions. He found the clearing again easy enough, and Crocus hadn't moved from his lounging position. He did raise his head in surprise at seeing the demigod again, though. "Forget something?" he prodded. Percy slowed down, panting. "Crocus, I hate to make myself a burden, but would it be okay if I borrowed some of your saffron here? My friend needs it." The boy wrinkled his nose. "I... guess that's fine, as long as you leave enough for me to still be visible." Crocus hesitated for a moment, then plucked a few stalks of himself. That was a weird sentence. "Will this be enough?" "Yes; thanks!" Percy went to make a grab for them, but the other boy's expression stopped him. "May I tag along?" he asked, shyly. "It gets... a little boring sometimes, not gonna lie." "But... what about waiting for Hermes? Will he be able to spot you if you leave the clearing?" Crocus flinched. "No... but you're my friend." His face fell. "Not a lot of people ever stay to hear my story; if one of your friends needs my help, it's only right that I do everything I can to assist. No amount of flowers will ever be equal to me." He looked... desperate. Like he'd never be able to live with himself if Percy turned him down. And as silly as it was... the son of Poseidon had come to see Crocus as his friend, too, in just a few short minutes. Sure, he was flamboyant and weird, but he'd given some genuinely good advice, and seemed anxious to help someone he hadn't even met. How could he refuse that? "I'd be grateful to have you along, Crocus," Percy told him. "Come on; we need to be fast." The demigod led the personified flower out of his clearing, and to the benna. Arion had vanished, probably to go flirt with some other fanged female horror he could antagonize a bunch of monsters about several years in the future, so at least Percy didn't have to explain the newcomer's presence to Mr. Pottymouth. He did, however, have to explain it to the others. "Who's this?" Alister asked, his eyebrow going up as Percy came jogging next to the benna with Crocus on his heels. "A friend," Percy answered immediatly, earning some surprised looks from the demigods, and a happy squeal from Saffron Boy. "I met him out there in the woods; he's a flower spirit. Of saffron." "You can call me Crocus," the auburn-haired boy greeted, squatting down next to Percy. He glanced down at Peter, taking in the same unpleasant sight Percy was treated to when he first got back. "Oh, the poor thing. He looks dreadful." "He fainted about ten minutes ago," Mina told him, still looking suspicious. "You're saffron? So, Percy, that's what you came up with when I asked you to find something aromatic?" "Hey, he's good," Percy defended. "Show them, Crocus." "No problem." The lover of Hermes produced some extra stalks from underneath his robe, adding to the selection he'd picked from his clearing. Motioning for Alister to hold Peter's head up gently, Crocus collected his plants together and breathed them out, sending a crimson dust into Peter's face. They got a reaction at once; Peter coughed at the action, leaning over on his side. Crocus pulled his flowers back, putting one hand to the child of love's shoulder as his hacking subsided. "Easy, dear," he soothed, returning his saffron to his robe. "I know it's strong, but it'll fade. Doesn't make it any less real, or its effects any less impactful." Was he talking about his smell, or something else? Percy couldn't tell. Peter sputtered for a few more moments before rolling back, sitting up with a confused look on his face. "Easy, easy!" Mina protested, putting a hand to his chest. "Don't sit up so fast; you need rest." Peter blinked at her, trying to get some spots out of his eyes. "Really? Because I feel fine." "You... you do?" "Yeah; what was that stuff a second ago?" Crocus blushed. "Um... that was me." He waved at Peter. "Hi; I'm Crocus. Sorry if I came on a little too strong there, but you were pretty out of it. I felt like I needed to add a bit more oomph to my saffron than usual. I hope you're not allergic, by the way. That dose would have been enough to wake an elephant." Peter stared at the flower-boy for a moment, at a loss for words. "Uh... thanks?" he fumbled, averting his eyes to the ground, a slight blush coming over his cheeks. "Sorry, guys. I just... had a bad time. I'd hate to make you worry for-" Alister hugged him, cutting off his words. ""You don't need to apologize, Peter. We're just glad you're doing better." The son of Aphrodite squeaked, before returning the embrace, shivering at the touch. Hayden leaned down, giving Mina a loaded look. The healer shook her head, motioning at Peter. Percy got her meaning; let him tell it, if he wants to. "Sorry if I scared you, at least," Peter mumbled into Alister's neck. "You just took me off guard, showing up like that. Especially after... what had happened." Peter got another squeeze, but Alister didn't pry, letting him take the lead if he wished. He did. "Before you showed up... someone else did, as well. Someone who looked exactly like you, Alister." Percy let out an exhale. "An imitation, then? Could it have been Apate?" "No." Peter's voice was like iron. "I didn't realize it until after the conversation had concluded, and the real Alister arrived. When I looked back, the person I'd been speaking to had turned into a dove. I know only one goddess who likes to do that." The answer was obvious; to everyone, even Crocus. "Your mother," Hayden breathed. "What did... Aphrodite talk to you about?" "Everything; my breakup with Janice, my feelings in general... and her. As in, Aphrodite herself. I... I told her that I blamed her for a lot of things, but that I didn't hold her entirely responsible, either. She... she told me something I had to be thinking about, without realizing it." "And that was?" Alister coaxed. Peter hung his head against his best friend's shoulder. "Thanks to her interference, I had no idea which of my feelings were my own, and which ones were just a result of her machinations. And as long as she was in the picture, I'd never know. That's no way to live." He had to take a moment to compose himself. "She asked me if I wanted her to stay out of my life entirely; I had no idea I was answering her to her face when I said yes." Percy sighed, as did Crocus next to him. That had to be hard on both ends; Peter admitting that he felt like his mom was too negative an influence in his life to keep her there, and Aphrodite hearing that her son didn't want her around. "And... she just left," he finished, going limp against Alister. "What's going to happen now? I can't imagine her feeling anything other than infuriated at me; she's probably off cooking up some devious punishment for me as we speak. I said horrible things about her; I didn't hold back. She... she tricked me. How could I have known?" The child of love was listless against Alister, even as the son of Athena ran a hand through his hair, whispering something into his ear Percy couldn't hear. Percy waited for it to end, before he spoke. "Peter, I don't think you have to worry about Aphrodite retaliating against you." Kaleidoscope eyes swiveled around to look at Percy. "How... how would you know that?" he asked, strain in his tone. "Because I was on Olympus just yesterday; the gods were debating the aftermath of Poseidon getting trapped in Tartarus, and what to do with the trident and scythe." Crocus raised shocked eyebrows at this news, but remained silent so Percy could finish. "No one knew why my dad had sacrificed himself... except for your mother. She really lit into the rest of the gods, berating them for being so unattached as parents. Even Ares got some of it. I don't think I've ever seen Aphrodite so worked up." "My mother... did that?" Peter asked, weakly. "Then... why would she come to me in disguise? As my best friend, no less?" Crocus cleared his throat. "Peter, right? Peter, if Aphrodite had come to you as herself... would you have been honest with her?" The question was a simple one, yet it sucked all the heat out of the air. Peter let it hang for a long time; not because he had to think about it. Because he knew how damning the answer was. "No. I wouldn't have." Saffron Boy nodded sadly. "And if Aphrodite really delivered such an impassioned speech to the rest of the gods, I can see why she'd suddenly want to stop by and check on her own kids. Particularly one she knew resented her." "Especially when a part of her speech was about how much the gods were willing to sacrifice for their kids," Percy added. "Indeed; perhaps she finally put her money where her mouth was, as it were." Crocus scooted up to Peter, Alister pulling away so the auburn-haired flower boy could look the child of love in the eyes fully. "She came to you to see if she needed to make her own sacrifice; leaving you alone. And she needed an honest answer. She'd never get one if she gave away who she was to you. She lied... for the best reason a parent could ever lie to their child." Peter stared back at him, pain etched on his face. "So... she's not going to... hurt me, again?" "No. You made your choice, and she'll respect it. No matter how painful it is for her." They sat in silence for a moment, before Crocus turned around, fiddling with something else in his robe. "C'mon, where is it?" he moaned, a cracking sound coming from inside his sleeve. "Ah! Wait- false alarm. That was something else. Now... where did I put it?" Saffron Boy swore under his breath, most of which was Ancient Greek, but only about a third of it Percy could recognize. Crocus must have come from a more remote region of Greece; his accent was nigh incomprehensible when he switched languages. "There we are!" he called out, spinning back around. In his lap, he held a clay pot, filled with soil. A single stalk of saffron was planted in it, this one purple with yellow highlights. Just like Crocus, actually. He gave it to Peter, who accepted it with a confused look. "Saffron?" he asked. "Yes; sorry that took so long. I forgot where I was keeping that pot." He giggled at that, which only made Percy really glad it was Peter holding that thing; not him. "I know we've only just met, but I know better than most people how much love can suck. Of course... that also means I know how wonderful it can be, too." Crocus patted the pot, a part of his hand catching Peter's as he held it. Both boys pulled back at the contact, but everyone saw the blush that ran over both of their faces. "If it's okay with you... I'd like it if you kept that piece of me," Crocus continued. "I can materialize wherever saffron is; if you ever need someone to talk to, I can make time." Peter got a little choked up at that, studying the flower, and his human form, with an unfamiliar look. "Thank you," he whispered. "I'll... keep it close." "You're welcome." Crocus' voice dropped a little, and both boys held each other's eyes for several seconds. Finally, Mina spoke, ending the moment. "You sure you're feeling okay, Peter?" she asked him, a diverting glance getting tossed between him and Crocus. "Because we can take a few hours to rest if you need to." Peter somehow tore his gaze away from the saffron... and the Saffron. "No, really. I'm fine," he assured her. "Whatever was in that dose Crocus gave me must have revitalized something. I feel fit as a fiddle, physically." "I see. Then I guess we can get going again," she said, climbing into the benna with a knowing grin playing on her face. Hayden followed her in, a mischievous look coming into his eyes as well. Percy was lost, until Alister elbowed him. "Time to go, Seaweed Brain," he whispered, throwing a furtive glance at his best friend before taking Percy by the hand. Peter stayed behind as they climbed in, shutting the door behind them. "Doesn't Peter need to get in, though?" Percy asked, only to get shushed by the three other demigods, all listening against the wall of the benna with bated breath. They all heard an awkward shuffling, before Crocus' voice broke the silence: "Guess I'll see you around, Peter," he said, his voice coming from the same end the child of love had been standing on. "Take care of yourself; and don't be afraid to talk to me if you need anything." "I'll do that, Crocus. Thanks for the treatment... and everything else." Hayden and Mina silently squeed at that, earning a reprising shush from Alister. They all leaned even closer to the wall. Percy was about to ask them what they were waiting for... when he heard it. It was quick, and quiet. But everyone heard the unmistakable sound of puckered lips meeting skin, and being pulled back. Instantly, the other three all jumped away from the wall, taking on nonchalant positions in the wagon. A moment later, the door swung open, and Peter climbed in, holding the potted saffron to his chest like it was the most precious thing in the world. He didn't seem to notice the obvious feigned innocence going on around him, and just settled against the wall, looking... different. "Guess that means we're ready," Hayden said, going to great lengths to keep himself from smiling too broadly. He poked his head out the front and whistled. Arion, neighing about peaches and pears, came sprinting up. "Where we headed?" the horse asked. Percy translated. "Northwest; I don't have anything else to say about it." "You're a navigator after my own heart, boss," Arion brayed, taking off at his usual blinding speed. As usual, Percy had set himself up in the back of the wagon, anticipating Arion's takeoff. Doing so gave him a chance to confirm what they'd all heard right before Peter entered the benna. Taking care not to sling open the door, Percy cracked the opening, getting one eye through the crack. As the wilderness passed by at a breakneck pace, he could make out Crocus watching them go. Even as they went up and over a hill, cutting him off from sight, Percy saw all he needed to: Crocus' hand, pressed against his cheek, staring after the benna in wonder. And with that, he was gone.

The sound of Hitoshi’s back colliding against the unforgivingly hard gym flooring echoed around the empty room, along with the pained yelp that left him. With nobody around, he was a little less embarrassed over the sound, but still cringed at it nonetheless. Nobody said recovery was going to be easy. Then again, nobody said he’d actually be able to properly use his capture weapon again either. But Hitoshi was as stubborn as he was determined to prove people wrong. He had come too far to give up over an ache in his bones.  He had to show Monoma that he could use his binding cloth. He had to show everyone that he deserved his spot on the hero course. That he wasn’t about to let some beak mask wearing fuck ruin his life, that he was so much stronger than those who tried to tear him down. He had to show everyone that he wasn’t a waste of time. That the Eraserhead wasn’t spending his time on a hopeless case. Besides, as fucked up as it probably was given his past, being in a gym helped quiet the noise in his head. Noise that had been getting a little too loud & a little too overwhelming recently. Ever since learning who the second victim was, Hitoshi’s days had begun to pass by in a blur. His weekend was spent mostly in his room, only leaving for food, the bathroom, or to braid Eri’s hair. The next week, he just moved from one place to the next, from classrooms to the teachers’ dorms like his body was on autopilot. His feet were taking him where he needed to go & his hands were writing what needed to be written, but he was locked away somewhere in his head, struggling to breathe. He was drowning in rooms full of people, but that blank-faced, ever-tired look that never shifted stopped anyone from noticing. Not even Denki’s sparks & smiles were enough to pull him from the undercurrents. Hitoshi had to wonder why. Why did Aizawa show him that woman’s photograph? What had connected the dots in Aizawa’s brain, telling him that this had something to do with Hitoshi?  He was beginning to think he was better off just not knowing. He recalled the grim look on Aizawa’s face, a look that somehow cut through that usual boredom. He recalled the way he sighed, the way he scratched at his chin, looking as though he was debating whether or not he should talk. He recalled Aizawa’s rugged voice, first promising him for the seventh time that month that Hitoshi would be safe in U.A, that he was surrounded by heroes who would do anything to keep him safe. Then he told Hitoshi about the third murder before he could find out for himself through the grapevine. That was the double-edged sword with a hero-filled society; nothing stayed quiet for long. The previous Tuesday, firefighters had been called out to a back-alley building halfway across the city from U.A, arriving to find blue flames already roaring & engulfing the dilapidated building. Once the fire had been extinguished, they found a body in the middle of the building’s ground floor. It had been kept out of the news for barely a week, but it was now plastered everywhere. The victim was a middle aged man, almost burnt to a crisp in the flames, but the writing carved into his chest was still readable. ‘FRAUD’, carved in bold, just like the others. Police had yet to release the details on who the man actually was to the public, but thanks to Aizawa’s contacts & underground hero status, he was able to gain some information.  On record, the guy was a stand-up citizen. He co-owned a gym downtown, a legitimate place anybody could go to, without needing to pay a ridiculous amount for a membership. Off the record & only known through a conveniently timed anonymous tip, he owned a back-alley gym that Hitoshi was all too familiar with. The place Trigger took him for ‘training’. Knowing that Hitoshi had a strange sort of friendship-out-of-survival thing with Dabi, as well as having a history with gyms & villains, Aizawa had pieced things together. He had yet to tell anybody else, though. He showed him a photograph that had been pulled from surveillance footage of the victim when he was still alive & asked if Hitoshi knew him. Of course he did. He remembered the faces of every single fucking person who just stood by. Who let people tear him apart for sport. That was as far as Aizawa had gone, though. He didn’t let him look through the encrypted files & had shut down his laptop before the realisation could spiral him into a panic attack. Aizawa told him that they needed more information before they could figure out what direction this was going to go, but he had to wait for the police to make their move first. All he kept reminding Hitoshi of was that he was safe in U.A, that none of this was his fault, that they were there if he needed to talk about it. From that point on, Hitoshi succumbed to the feeling of being detached from himself. He said goodbye to the minimal amount of sleep that he had just about been managing to get, accepting the new reality of sleepless nights. With a little more reluctance, he bid farewell to the small social life he’d built & that was truly a bitter pill to swallow. It was nice while it lasted, Hitoshi thought to himself.  It had been a nice day at the mall despite his anxiety, it had been a nice first week at school, writing notes & working on his projects with Denki.  Realising new little pieces of himself had felt good. He got to feel light & airy around Denki, filled with a warmth that lingered like the blond’s static. It had been a nice little slice of what could have been, but what he couldn’t have. He was a hazard. He couldn’t put people in harm’s way again, so he withdrew. He fell back quiet. He barely spoke back when spoken to, he left his texts on read. He glared at the ‘are you okay?’ texts from Shouto & Denki as if they were somehow mocking him, thumbs hovering over the keyboard until he tucked his phone away without bothering to reply. It hurt. So Hitoshi went to the one place where he could force his mind to shut the fuck up. He stuffed some clothes into his bag, broke into his old locker, grateful his binding cloth was still in there after so long had passed & made his way to gym gamma, it quickly nearing midnight. Rather than being in a U.A jumpsuit, he was in loose sweatpants & a tank top, both black & outside of his hair, the only colour on him was the spatter of various bruises & friction burns all along his hands & elbows, probably his shoulders too. The physical pain was a momentary reprise from the emotional ache in his chest & the mental turmoil ripping apart his brain. From where he was lying on his back, trying to get the air back into his lungs, Hitoshi stared up at the ceiling, blinking back the frustrated tears that were prickling at the corners of his eyes. The binding cloth was still looped around one of the metal beams in the rafters, swaying like a metronome from where he had just fallen, taunting him. Lilac eyes watched as it drifted back & forth, over & over as he did a mental check to be sure nothing was dislocated or broken. To force his tears to stay at bay, Hitoshi focused on slowing his heavy breathing, drawing in a breath so deep that he could feel his collarbones & shoulders click quietly before exhaling slowly. He wasn’t so sure just how long he stayed on the ground for, it was almost like he was forcefully hypnotised into a calm state as he watched the scarf. He raised his hands up in front of his face, arms outstretched & studied the way his fingers shook, eventually turning his hands over to inspect his palms. They were bright red, raw with fresh friction burns, the old calluses from working so hard with the binding cloth having long since softened out after his hospital stay. Despite jittery motions & the shakes, Hitoshi flexed his fingers. He couldn’t let that stop him. He couldn’t stop. Each time his crooked fingers curled around his binding cloth, each time he lifted even an ounce of his weight, pain sparked up his wrists. His throat would close up & his eyes stung. But just as he had always done when trying to prove he was stronger than the hurt that wanted to consume his very being, Hitoshi bit his lip until it hurt & he kept pushing. He had to keep pushing. Eventually, he forced his body to sit up. Once back on his feet, Hitoshi shook out his arms as if that’d somehow shake the pain away. He drew in a few more deep breaths, trying to be certain that his heart rate was definitely steady, that he was definitely still capable of breathing despite knocking the wind out of his lungs one too many times that evening. Taking slow steps back, one foot perfectly behind the other, utterly soundless, Hitoshi’s eyes stayed trained on the cloth like a cat assessing its prey. It was only when he deemed he was far enough away that he dashed forward into a jump so he could grab a hold of the scarf, strategically wrapping it around his hands just as Aizawa had taught him so many months ago. The fabric tugged at the already raw skin on his palms, digging in hard enough to leave slight blood smears along the grey scarf, but Hitoshi gritted his teeth through the pain. He was trying to use the momentum of the jump so he could swing gracefully up onto the rafters. He reached out with a raw & now bleeding hand, but yet again he missed by barely a foot. He went tumbling back down, earning friction burns atop of friction burns as he scrabbled for the scarf to try & slow his descent. But there was that familiar sound again. The sound of his back slamming into the ground, echoing around like a taunt as it selfishly ripped the air from his lungs. It was followed up by a particularly pain-filled yell of, “Fuck!” Prior to knowing Aizawa, Hitoshi thought training was always supposed to hurt because that’s all he had ever known. Then Aizawa showed him an entirely different world, a world where it was okay to call it a day, that it was okay to not push limits if he could barely stand after an hour of capture weapon practice. Yet even after months of Aizawa telling him when to stop, reminding him to drink water, bringing extra protein pouches to keep his energy levels up, Hitoshi still hadn’t learnt how to stop pushing his own limits into something unhealthy. He still didn’t know how to break the bad habits. He didn’t know how to accept the pain as being too much & think ‘I shouldn’t be feeling like this’. Instead he accepted the pain as a fact, as a constant & unhealthy reminder that he was alive, as something he had become attached to through sheer familiarity.  He knew it intimately, unhealthily, almost better than he knew himself.  The more his bones hurt, the more his skin burned, the more his body felt as though it was on the verge of failing, the less time his mind had to focus on anything else. He was self-destructing. He knew he was. So why couldn’t he stop? He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, swallowing down the pain as he grit his teeth & launched into a sprint. Over & over. Each failure sapped more energy out of him, then the need to succeed zapped it right back in again. Like a constant tug-of-war between self pity & stubborn fucking will. He knew he was pushing too far when he lost his footing, when the distance between his hands & the rafters were getting further & further apart, when the falls were growing more clumsy, giving him less time to brace for it. He knew he’d fucked up the second he fell from where he had tried to reach the beams, only for his hand to give out completely, losing his grip on his capture weapon. He knew he’d fucked up when he had nothing to grab to slow the fall, nothing to stop his shoulder from colliding with the stupidly hard ground with a sickening pop. The pain had him choking on a breath & a pained yelp as he rolled from his side onto his knees & pressed his forehead against the cold ground. His shaking hand clutched his arm at his bicep, holding it close to his chest as he tried to breathe through a wave of nausea.  Pain radiated in pulses from his shoulder & down along his back. It was at odds with the way his arm was going numb, his fingers tingling. The tears he had so desperately been trying to stop finally broke through their dam, his breathing coming out as ragged intakes of air that barely even made it to his lungs. He felt everything closing in on him as his world collapsed, crumbling around him while he was helpless to stop it. People were being killed because of him. People always got hurt because of him. He didn’t know what to do. There was nothing he could do. For fuck’s sake he could barely even hold his ground anymore. How was he going to survive this world if he was already too broken to face it? “You’re a cursed child!” Chisaki’s words rattled around his head. They were ingrained in him & Eri for an eternity to come. Hitoshi’s pathetic attempt at trying to get his breathing under control only worsened when he scoffed, thinking perhaps the guy was right. His heartbeat was pounding in his skull with his too-quick breathing filling his ears, so much so that Hitoshi didn’t hear the ever so subtle click of the door being opened quietly. He didn’t hear the quiet footfalls heading towards him. He didn’t know anyone was watching him break down into thousands of tiny pieces until a quiet, rough voice called out his name. For just a split second, everything stilled, right down to his breathing. Aizawa. It took every force on earth to give him the strength to grit his teeth so he could sit up onto his knees, hand still clutching his limp arm at his bicep. Tears tracked down his cheeks & Hitoshi knew damn well he was a fucking mess, but it wasn’t exactly the first time Aizawa had found in a similar state & precariously tried to piece him back together again. How had he been so lost to the pain, to his own frustrations that his guard was down enough to let someone sneak up on him? He was lucky it was the only person who he’d willingly let see him this way. He watched as Aizawa crossed the last bit of space between them to kneel in front of him, moving the first-aid kit from beneath his arm to sit it on his thighs instead. Hitoshi stayed frozen in place.  The hero had seen his scars more than once, had seen the worst ones that were thankfully hidden away on his torso. But with his arms bare, it still had his need to hide away before anyone saw creeping up to the surface. The rational side of him knew that they shouldn’t matter, they didn’t matter, that they didn’t change things. Aizawa had seen them before & had still chosen to be his guardian. Aizawa had seen him break down & had still chosen to sign those papers. But that side of him was shaky at best, crumbling as quickly as the rest of him was. He was under Aizawa’s care now & in protective custody so to speak. So why couldn’t he look him in the eye & admit he needed help?  “Quite a mess you’ve made of yourself. Can you show me your hands?” Tremors ran through his whole body as he shook his head ever so subtly, eyes transfixed on a line of paint on the ground somewhere behind Aizawa’s shoulder. “Alright… Can I check them for you?” Hitoshi nodded & once the first-aid kit was opened, Aizawa ever so carefully took Hitoshi’s hand. He pried it gently from his bicep & turned it palm up so he could inspect the damage. “When I was in my second year here, I used to do the same thing. Some days Hizashi would sit in the corner with his headphones on while I trained. Other days I was alone. Deep breath in.” Somehow, Hitoshi registered the words & found he was following. “Now breathe out.” So he did. “I threw myself into training almost non-stop after what happened with Oboro. Doing it switched my brain off. I couldn’t think about anything else if I was focused on learning something as complex as the binding cloth. I couldn’t feel anything else if the burns on my hands were always so raw.” The words slowly sank into Hitoshi’s mind, pulling him out of the treacherous waters he had been fighting against for the past week. From staring blankly at nothing in particular, purple eyes finally looked down to where Aizawa’s attention was being focused. He wasn’t entirely sure how he wasn’t properly registering the pain he was so certain was there just a few moments ago. It was like his body was still completely frozen, despite the air now getting into his lungs. It was like he had sort of forgotten that he was a human being, with blood coursing through his veins & nerves that could feel pain with a mind that actually functioned. Aizawa had the corner of a packaged bandage between his lips which explained why there was a slight muffle to his words as callused hands carefully wiped away the excess blood from Hitoshi’s torn skin with antiseptic wipes. “But this,” The hero dabbed the wipe against the cut for emphasis. “Won’t take away what’s going on in there.” This time, he moved one hand to gently tap a finger against Hitoshi’s temple. Deep down, Hitoshi knew that.  He knew he could only shut his brain off for so long until everything came surging back with a vengeance. But that didn’t mean it didn’t feel nice to just… have a distraction for a little while, even if it was a destructive one. When Hitoshi had nothing to offer but silence, Aizawa went back to cleaning the mess he had made of his hands. Once his palms were as clean as they were going to get, they were carefully wrapped in soft bandages. All of Aizawa’s motions were nothing short of caring & gentle. Patient & kind. “I know you still don’t fully trust us yet & that’s okay, but we’re here to listen. I know it’s scary, but I’m here & don’t plan on going anywhere. Training is fine, I’m not going to stop you from that, but when training crosses over into harming yourself, that’s when I’m going to step in. Alright?” Hitoshi nodded silently, staring down at his bandage-clad hands. His eyes drifted along the jagged scars on his arms, built up over the years from various injuries, from knives, to wrist clamps rubbing his skin raw. It was all right there, such ugly reminders on stark display that he desperately tried for so long to hide, not only from others, but from himself too. Yet there Aizawa was, still looking at him in the same way he always did. Looking at him like he was something important. “Can I take a look at that shoulder?” Ever so tired, purple eyes met dark ones, genuinely surprised that Aizawa had picked up on the clear discomfort. The lopsided heights of his shoulders, the limp arm & the refusal to move his hand on his own accord were dead giveaways, but that little kid inside of him was still surprised that he wasn’t being left to tend to his own injuries. Hitoshi nodded again.  Aizawa moved slowly as he always did when around Hitoshi. It was against his swift nature, but it was just to be sure he didn’t fill him with fear. He leaned forward so he could carefully press a hand to Hitoshi’s shoulder-blade. A new wave of pain shot through him & Hitoshi bit down on his lip to stay silent, momentarily squeezing his eyes shut. “Alright, kiddo, Recovery Girl time.” The hero said quietly as he pulled back after minimal contact. He stood up, then leaned down enough & offered a hand. As soon as Hitoshi took it with his good one, Aizawa helped him up onto his feet in a way with minimal discomfort. “Can you walk okay?” After a lengthy silence & a nod, Hitoshi finally found his voice, even though he couldn’t get it to be any louder than a barely there murmur. “My binding cloth.” Priorities, Hitoshi.  “Will still be here once we’re done. I’ll get it for you once you’re all patched up, maybe wash it too… Sound good?” Once he nodded, they slowly headed out of the gym & Hitoshi hugged his good arm close to his chest out of habit. As though he thought it would somehow help hide his bare skin, even though nobody was around to look at him. On their way back to the dormitories, Aizawa got on the phone to Recovery Girl & managed to get her to come by the apartment rather than them heading to her office. For that, Hitoshi was nothing but grateful.  How she was still awake considering the time & her age, Hitoshi wasn’t so sure. He’d have to remember to thank her for dealing with all of his trouble. Once they got back to the apartment, Yamada hurried over before Hitoshi could even fully make it through the doorway. He cupped his cheeks, tilting his head this way & that, even when Hitoshi tried to force his head to the side to blatantly refuse eye contact like a moody child. Yes, he knew he was being childish. No, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. “I was so worried, are you okay? Are you hurt? Sho, I know I keep saying he’s a mini-you, but this is freakishly reminiscent of our U.A. days.” Yamada sounded not only exasperated, but genuinely worried too. It was strange. He finally got the hint that Hitoshi wasn’t planning on saying anything or looking at him any time soon & dropped his hands, tucking them into his pockets just so he wouldn’t get all touchy-feely again. A pang of guilt shot through Hitoshi when he caught on to the little action, but he refused to look up from the floor. He was too… bare. He couldn’t look into the eyes that were looking at him, seeing his scars. He just wasn’t strong enough. Instead, Hitoshi silently sidestepped to get around Yamada so he could go to the couch instead, slowly sitting down with his hands in his lap & stared off at the coffee table. He heard Aizawa quietly filling Yamada in on what had happened as he went about making some tea. That was another rule. No coffee after ten P.M. Not that the coffee really changed anything. Caffeine, no caffeine, Hitoshi didn’t sleep, simple as. He pretended to ignore the fact that Yamada voiced his worries about Hitoshi, trying to speak in a hushed whisper so as to not be overheard. He was asking about what was going on with him recently & what they could try & do to make it better. Fuck, he was making them sad. Nice going, Hitoshi. A thin blanket was ever so gently draped across his shoulders, not thick enough to put pressure on his dislocation, but enough to hide his arms. He should have known it was Aizawa’s doing; some days he could have sworn that hero's quirk was mind reading rather than erasure. The man then crouched in front of him, herbal tea in one hand, a sachet of painkillers in the other. “If I ask if you’ll take these, are you going to refuse?” His eyes drifted to study Aizawa’s tired features, already clocking onto the resigned tone of his voice. They both knew what Hitoshi’s answer was going to be.  When Hitoshi just nodded, Aizawa refused to let the worry or disappointment show on his face. He simply accepted the teenager’s answer & held out the mug of tea after taking a sip. Hitoshi took it, taking a few sips & sighed at the warmth. “Recovery Girl will be here in a few minutes to sort out that shoulder.” Aizawa’s voice was as grounding as it always was, tired & quiet, always direct. “She isn’t just here to patch you up physically, y’know. If you need to talk about anything that’s going on in your head to somebody, she’ll listen.” Resisting the urge to shrink back into the couch, knowing full well how much even just a simple action like that would hurt his shoulder, Hitoshi opted to glare into his mug instead, just so he wouldn’t have to look at Aizawa. “No.” “Hitoshi-” “I don’t need therapy.” “It doesn’t have to be her, Inui - Hound Dog - is a guidance counsellor. If you want to talk about your past, or what’s going on now, I can prove to you that they can be trusted to not share it with anyone else-” “I don’t need fucking therapy!” Hitoshi snapped, voice louder than before, almost unrecognisable to himself. He sounded so… angry. Like how he sounded when yelling at Midoriya. Tired eyes momentarily widened in fear, flickering up to Aizawa’s face as he automatically leaned back slightly as if he was expecting a swing to be taken, directed right at him. Aizawa just stayed perfectly still, the only motion being his tired blinking as his eyes stayed studying him as though he hadn’t just yelled in his face. Apologies ran around Hitoshi’s head on repeat. He felt pathetic, like a scared child who had just broken the family’s favourite vase. Yet they were never verbalised, he was too afraid of how his voice would sound if he tried. Aizawa waited patiently for Hitoshi to calm down, dark eyes never leaving where they were looking right into his fucking soul.  He hated it. He hated all of this. Being a spectacle, a project for someone to fix. Broken. He couldn’t talk to a fucking stranger. Spill his guts just for them to scribble down notes, the pen scratching against the page like nails on a chalkboard. He couldn’t. He had to be strong, he had to be better than the mess everyone from his past so desperately wanted him to be. “Is there anybody you will talk to?” The corners of Hitoshi’s eyes were stinging again & there was no doubt the tears would be clear to see, so once again he was glaring into his mug, taking a few sips just so he wouldn’t have to speak. He hated the way that question felt so loaded. The way it felt like everything was riding on what answer he chose. Aizawa knew his shit, he knew all of his past & yet he was still here. But Hitoshi had an innate fear of becoming too much, a fear that everyone had a threshold for how much they were willing to handle & that he always had been, always would be, too much. Denki knew too. So did Shouto, Bakugou, Kirishima & even Midoriya. They knew he was seven kinds of messed up, but Hitoshi had to keep them at an arm’s length, especially Denki. He had to, because letting people in was dangerous. Not just for him, but for them. He couldn’t just… tell Recovery Girl, or Hound Dog, that a murderer was very likely hunting down people who had known him & was staging their bodies for the whole of Japan to see. He couldn’t just tell them that the League liked him, that other villains either wanted him dead or wanted him on their side. He couldn’t just admit that he had unfinished business with people who had more blood on their hands than what Hitoshi would see in a lifetime. He couldn’t just get them involved. What if they became targets too? If he was going to talk to somebody about the mess that was his head, he needed somebody protected. He needed somebody with NDA’s, somebody with personal bodyguards, somebody untouchable. As selfish as it was, he needed somebody who he’d feel less guilty about pulling into the crosshairs. He very much doubted that there was a therapist like that out there, just waiting to pick him apart for money that’d outweigh the risk of being close to him. He had been so lost in his head that a soft knock had him flinching back to the present, eyes snapping up to look over at the doorway. Aizawa moved to get it, Recovery Girl shuffling in while already chastising him for not keeping a closer eye on Hitoshi. It seemed she had no qualms with telling off any adult, no matter who they were. “Hello again, trouble.” She said in a more gentle voice when she got to the couch, wasting absolutely no time in taking the mug from Hitoshi’s hands, setting it on the coffee table. “What happened this time?” Hitoshi silently tracked her every movement, rather than offering a verbal reply, he just moved the blanket with his good hand enough to tug it from his shoulders so she could see the dislocated one. He had already heard Aizawa tell her what had happened, he didn’t need to answer. Considering they had seen one another so much, Hitoshi had never actually held a conversation with the woman. He had always just sat silently & allowed her to kiss his knuckles while talking to him casually. She always did that. Held a one-sided conversation without a single care that Hitoshi never actually spoke back. She still smiled at him all the same. “Oh dear.” She sighed out. “Not even two weeks in school & you’re already as troublesome as the rest of 1-A. Well, I’m going to have to get that back into place manually. Have you taken any painkillers?” When Hitoshi just shook his head, she was a little less reserved in her reaction & let out a sigh with a disappointed look on her face. “If you don’t take something, it’s going to hurt a lot more to get it back into place. A sedative will relax your muscles enough to…” She must have seen the fear flash through Hitoshi’s eyes, or maybe it was the way he physically tried to shuffle away from her, tensed & ready to run. He could put it back into place himself. He’d done it once before, he could do it again, he didn’t need painki- “Okay. Okay. No medication, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, though. You’re as bad as Shouta.” She tipped her head to level Aizawa with a glare as he moved to perch on the edge of the coffee table. “Alright, tell me if you need me to stop.” * Shouta, once again, had to see his- this poor kid suffer through agony with a blank face. He scooped up Pillow & gently placed the cat on Hitoshi’s lap, then used a toy mouse with a feather for a tail to have Pillow roll upside down lazily & paw at it. It wasn’t much, but Shouta was hoping it was enough to at least be a mild distraction for Hitoshi, something for him to focus on rather than Recovery Girl’s hands on him. Hizashi had come over to gently hand Hitoshi Shouta’s stress ball that was in the shape of a cat head, but Hitoshi didn’t particularly sit there squeezing it in his free hand. He just sat there. Sat there staring down at Pillow with his jaw clenched so tightly they all knew it was going to be aching in the morning. Recovery Girl was as careful & gentle as she could be, slowly rotating Hitoshi’s arm, massaging it little by little at his shoulder joint until she was able to press it back into place.  Shouta could see the pain in those purple eyes, even if the kid refused to properly look at anything other than the cat on his lap. He could see the tension in his jaw, hear the way his breathing hitched every few seconds. But he knew damn well Hitoshi wasn’t going to say anything. It pained Shouta, watching a child swallow down pain & accept it in silence. It hurt because there wasn’t anything he could do. He couldn’t force Hitoshi to take medication to make things easier, he couldn’t force him to accept sedatives or help that he didn’t want. The kid barely made it through taking the pain medication the hospital had him on for weeks straight. Hitoshi let out an audible sigh as Recovery Girl said she was done, then placed a kiss on his upper shoulder, which the teen visibly cringed at. She gently pulled the blanket back around his shoulders, then turned her attention to Shouta. Oh boy. “I assume you still have a sling in your first-aid kit?” She asked with narrowed eyes. Shouta nodded. With the amount of times he had dislocated various joints, they always kept a sling on hand. He was half surprised that their bathroom had yet to become an infirmary. Although, with how much medication was in their locked cabinet & just how full their kit bag was, it was well on its way. “Good. Have him rest his arm in a sling for a few days until the pain settles. No physical training for a week. If I get called up here to patch him up again any time soon, I’m going to have your teaching status questioned, Shouta!” “Yes, ma’am.” Shouta grumbled, deciding it was better not to argue, whether it was a bluff or not. After apologising with a bow, he walked her to the door, apologising again with another bow for good measure there too. He only spoke with Recovery Girl for about ten minutes, but by the time he was shutting the door & heading back towards the living room, he had to pause at the sight that met him. Hizashi was sitting on the couch beside Hitoshi’s non-injured side & the kid was slouched right against his side, head resting on Hizashi’s shoulder with his eyes shut.  His husband’s arm was carefully resting along the back of the couch so there was no pressure on Hitoshi’s shoulders, his fingers delicately carding through scruffy purple hair. Hitoshi had an earphone in one ear, his phone in Hizashi’s free hand. He looked as though he were all of two seconds away from crying. Once he noticed Shouta heading over towards them, Hizashi spoke in a hushed whisper so as to not wake Hitoshi. “Sho, he’s resting on me. Sho, Sho, look. Sho, he didn’t try to hide or yank away. I didn’t even do anything, he just leaned on me optionally. Sho-” Okay, so much for the two seconds away from crying. He was crying. Or at the very least, there were tears in Hizashi’s bright eyes. “He has earphones in.” Shouta noted as he moved to perch on the arm of the couch. As far as he knew, those earphones had been collecting dust. The kid was never seen wearing them, even when trying to focus on work. “Just one.” Hizashi pointed to where the other was on the coffee table. Ah. “He told me not long ago that he wanted some music, then he told me it helped his brain shut off. I figured,” He half shrugged with the shoulder Hitoshi wasn’t against, dropping the phone onto his leg so he could swipe his free hand beneath his eye. “It would help him settle.” “He hasn’t been sleeping.” Shouta nibbled at his lip for a few moments, dark eyes flickering to Hitoshi’s features, noting the darker-than-usual bags beneath his eyes for a moment & then looked back to Hizashi. “He’s gotta be exhausted. I’m surprised it took until now for him to crash.” “He’s barely eating too. Have you seen him in class? He’s just… It’s like nobody’s home inside that head of his. Sho, he needs to talk to somebody.” “I know.” Shouta sighed tiredly, moving a hand to run through his hair.  He needed to wash it, badly. He needed to take five minutes to actually look after himself, but trying to figure out how to help a traumatised kid that refused to admit he needed help, while juggling murder cases that were tied to said kid… Fuck, he wished there were more hours in a day. That was without even touching on how much work went into teaching a hero course. “What about that psychiatrist you mentioned last month, the woman from Kyushu? You said she made the effort to swing by the hospital while he was recovering, right?” “Yeah, but I couldn’t have her talk to him. He couldn’t even admit what had happened had affected him in the slightest. He still can’t. If I would have put him in a room with a psychiatrist back then, it would have done more harm than good.” “You still think it’d be just as bad now?” “You heard his outburst.” Shouta stood slowly, stretching out his arms & back. “He’s terrified at the thought of someone picking him apart. He was tested on, ‘Zashi, he still thinks people with ‘doctor’ in their titles are going to hurt him.” Hizashi didn’t reply to that. He just looked up at Shouta with a grim look on his face, then tilted his head to look at Hitoshi instead, who was still out cold against his shoulder.  “I’d like to introduce him to her soon, but he has to be the one who realises he needs to speak to someone. I knew it was a bad idea telling him about those murders, I fucking knew it was. But- What if he figured it out on his own? It isn’t exactly like the media can stop plastering them everywhere.” “I know, Sho.” “People are being killed & all the outlets care about is how much money they’re going to make from the headlines. Meanwhile Hitoshi is tearing himself apart at the seams because I asked him if he recognised a woman’s face.” Shouta scrubbed his hands over his face, taking a moment to draw in a few breaths to keep his annoyance-bordering-anger in check. Once he had settled, he carried on. “I haven’t told Sansa or Tsukauchi that Hitoshi is the connection just yet. I- ‘Zashi, they’re going to rip open old wounds all over again. I can’t, I can’t put him through that again. You weren’t there last time- You didn’t see his face.” He hated having to allow the police to interrogate Hitoshi while he was still recovering from Chisaki’s cruelty. He hated having to sit there & listen while they made him recite every cruel thing he had been through since he was ten fucking years old. He hated every goddamn second. He couldn’t put Hitoshi through it again, not when he was barely being held together by threads.

[THE BREAKFAST CLUB-5:12am]   Senseimarls:  GOOD MORNING! HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE, FUCKERS!   [senseimarls changed their name to MommyClaus]   ChandlerBing: Marlene Is 5am Shut. The. Fuck. Up.   [MommyClaus changed ChandlerBing’s name to Grinch]   Grinch: fuck you     MommyClaus: no, thank you  I’m gay     Grinch: I’m too tired for this Goodbye     MommyClaus: but it’s 8am!     Mrs.Potter: it’s 5am, Marls We’re in London, remember? You’re in Brazil? Ring any bells?     MommyClaus: oh right Whatever What are you guys doing today?     Therapist: nothing Just going to be with my family all day     XOXO: yeah me too     Mrs.Potter: me too Someone please take me away from here     Mr.Evans: what? Why? Are you okay?     Mrs.Potter: I’m fine It’s just Petunia     Grinch: ugh     Ratking: who?     Grinch: her sister She’s a bitch     GossipGirl: Remus!     Grinch: what?!     Mrs.Potter: it’s true She *is* a bitch And her fiancé is here too     Grinch: the one with the drills?     Mrs.Potter: that one     Mr.Evans: I’m sorry your sister is a bitch     Therapist: she sounds like a nightmare from all you’ve told us     MommyClaus: she really does     Mrs.Potter: meh It’s fine I’m used to it What are the rest of you doing?     Mr.Evans: spending the day with my family too And the Tonks Mom invited them to Regulus' first Christmas outside of Grimmauld Place To have the family all together     GossipGirl: really? Thant's great!     Fish: yep Can’t wait     XOXO: good for you, reg     Fish: thanks :) And you, Remus?   What are you doing?     Grinch: the same as always Spending the day with my mom, Mary’s family, and Grant     Sexydog: Grant?     MommyClaus: look who showed up *sigh* it was good while it lasted     Sexydog: shut up, Mckinnon Grant?     Grinch: yeah? He always spends Christmas with us     Sexydog: hmm Okay     Therapist: … Can someone lighten up the mood please?     Fish: oh I know! @Sexydog     Sexydog: yeah?     Fish: knock knock     Sexydog: who’s there?     Fish: definitely not our parents     Sexydog: BAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHANDHSASHBEBHHAHAHSSHSDGHSD       Fish: I’m so funny, I know     Grinch: …     Ratking: …     Therapist: …     XOXO: do we just ignore it or…?     Mr.Evans: ignore it     XOXO: okay then     Grinch: um anyways… Who wants to see bowie?!   Sexydog: MY CHILD YES! OMG DADDY MISSES YOU SO MUCH And I bought you a gift!     Grinch: Sirius no     Sexydog: Sirius yes!     Mrs.Potter: what did Sirius do?     Grinch: he bought a cowboy outfit for Bowie     Sexydog: don’t forget about the little gun     Grinch: how could I?     Therapist: aw it’s cute     MommyClaus: if my girlfriend thinks so, so do I     Mr.Evans: it’s adorable! I helped picking it!     Ratking: if he already has a cowboy one, can I buy him a police costume?     Sexydog: YES!     Grinch: NO! It’s ridiculous     Fish: it is     GossipGirl: it is     Mrs.Potter: it’s weird     XOXO: I have to agree It’s kinda weird     Sexydog: It’s not! It’s adorable!     Grinch: I’m not having this conversation anymore     MommyClaus: *cough* grinch *cough*     Grinch: Marlene…     MommyClaus: What? I’m not afraid of you, moon boy What are you going to do? Fly all the way here?     Grinch: no But I could tell my mother you don’t like her Oh wait! I could tell her you find her acting shit     Mr.Evans: burrrrrn     Ratking: poor alexander     Mr.Evans: what?     Ratking: nothing     MommyClaus: you wouldn’t     Grinch: you sure?     MommyClaus: …fine     Grinch: good Now bye         [BARBIE AND THE THREE MUSKETEERS- 1:01pm]   Barbie(Corinne): I’m going to drown myself in the shower     Renee: um Maybe don’t do that?     Aramania: that’s… a bit disconcerting     Viveca: what’s up marls?     Barbie(Corinne): I’m tired of my aunt asking me if my “phase” is over and if I got a boyfriend Like, I came out three years ago! Get over it!     Renee: I’m sorry about that, love     Aramania: is there anything we can do?     Viveca: I could create a fake Instagram profile and make some comments on her posts…     Barbie(Corinne): it’s okay I’m going to end up saying something mean to shut her up as always It’s just so… ugh!     Renee: do they know about me?     Barbie(Corinne): yes You’ve already talked to my parents And they wouldn’t shup up about how great you are Also, I’ve already posted many pictures of us on my Instagram My whole family follows me     Aramania: just take a deep breath, and try to calm down Remember, you’ll be back before New Year’s Eve     Renee: and then we can post a picture of us kissing just to annoy her     Viveca: just put bleach on her shampoo     Barbie(Corinne): I think I’ll take Mary’s advice     Viveca: of course you will! I’m amazing!     Barbie(Corinne): meh you’re okay Okay, I have to go back now Bye!   [1:54pm]   Barbie(Corinne): so… I just ended up saying that I didn’t have a boyfriend because I enjoyed eating my girlfriend’s pussy too much My cousin choked on his food, my dad laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe, my grandpa just continued eating like nothing had happened, my aunt fainted, and my grandma tried to calm her down It was great!     Aramania: good lord…     Renee: I’ve never been so proud     Viveca: I wish I was there to see!     Barbie(Corinne): I’m still thinking about the bleach tho…           [LILY & REGULUS-2:15pm]   Regulus: Lilith     Lily: that’s not my name…     Regulus: that’s not important right now I was bored So I decided to listen to the album I was dressed as on your birthday     Lily: ah Evermore     Regulus: that one     Lily: and you’re telling me this why?     Regulus: BECAUSE I was listening to willow, it was nice, the beat was cool, the lyrics were good, everything was okay But then Champagne problems started     Lily: oh     Regulus: yeah “oh” Why did no one warn me it was fucking sad?! Now I’m sobbing on my bedroom floor! I think I am a little obsessed now     Lily: God You’re just dramatic as Sirius     Regulus: you take that back!     Lily: do you realize what this means now?     Regulus: um no?   [Lily changed the chat name to ‘Taylor Swift conversion therapy’]   Lily: WELCOME To the first day of the rest of your life!     Regulus: is there going to be more crying?     Lily: oh definitely Here is what you’re going to do You finish listening to evermore, then you go to fearless I want to see what’s more your style     Regulus: okay     Lily: and then you start in chronological order Remember to listen to the Taylor‘s Version ones!     Regulus: yes, ma’am     Lily: BUT! Now I want you to listen to the love triangle: Betty, Cardigan, and August You might want to grab some tissues     Regulus: that’s not reassuring at all   [2:38pm]   Regulus: I- I hate you I didn’t know I could cry that much     Lily: oh, little swiftie Just wait until you get to All too well (10 minutes version) You can’t go back now     Regulus: I think I’ve just entered a cult     Lily: you haven’t seen anything yet We still have to go through all of her exes (and if and why we hate them), the references, and why we hate Kanye west     [FACETIME CALL WITH REGULUS-2:43pm]   “Lily?”   “Yes. Hi. So, Jake Gyllenhaal-“   “Is that a PowerPoint presentation?”   “Yes, it is. Now shut up and listen. As I was saying, Jake Gyllenhaal…”           [A REGULUAR WEREWOLF-4:46pm]   Reg: help me     Rem: what? What happened? Are you okay?     Reg: no I’ve been on a facetime call with lily for the last two hours     Rem: two hours… is it about Taylor?     Reg: yes!     Rem: did she put the PowerPoint presentation? The one about the exes and the references like the scarf and the love triangle?     Reg: yes…     Rem: then there is nothing I can do, sorry Good luck!     Reg: I hate you (seen)               [FRIENDS TO LOVERS-7:05pm]   Wiseboy: hey what are you doing?     Seaweedbrain: hi I just finished helping mom set up the table Now I’m upstairs getting ready for dinner wait Reg just entered my bedroom, just a sec     Wiseboy: okay     Seaweedbrain: I’m back He just sat on my bed and started saying something about someone dropping someone’s hand, and something about a secret and an oath idk And then he left. Should I be worried?     Wiseboy: nah Lily pulled the PowerPoint on him     Seaweedbrain: oh That makes sense     Wiseboy: have you looked at the moon today?     Seaweedbrain: not yet Wait let me look at the window It’s beautiful     Wiseboy: it is Now look down at the doorstep     Seaweedbrain: what? OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? IS THAT HOPE TOO?! OMG!     Wiseboy: we’re here for dinner, dummy Effie invited us Mom is looking for a place to park     Seaweedbrain: OH MY GOD!!!!! Is that Bowie?!     Wiseboy: yes, it is And he’s wearing the cowboy outfit!     Seaweedbrain: you like it?!     Wiseboy: it still is ridiculous But you like it, so I'll get over it     Seaweedbrain: I think I’m going to explode And what about Christmas with Mary’s family and Grant?     Wiseboy: it was a lie I wanted it to be a surprise     Seaweedbrain: omg I love you     Wiseboy: I love you too Now are you going to open the door or…?     Seaweedbrain: I’m coming!     Wiseboy: did I just hear james yell?     Seaweedbrain: I pushed him of the stairs He was on my way     Wiseboy: Sirius! Is he okay?     Seaweedbrain: he’ll survive     Wiseboy: *sigh* just open the damn door     Seaweedbrain: this is going to be the best Christmas eve ever!      

Aizawa wakes up with a tired groan, feeling Yamada’s arms wrapped around and turns his head on the pillow to look at the clock. It was only four o’clock in the morning so he turns his head back towards the blonde and closes his eyes, wondering what could have woken him up so early. He presses a kiss against Yamada’s forhead before trying to fall back asleep when he hears another buzz and lifts his head to look at his phone with a raised brow. Who and the hell would be messaging him this early in the morning? He rubs his eyes before reaching for his phone, looking at the screen to see who’s messaging him. It’s a unknown number. Aizawa sits up a little, reading over the messages twice with a look of confusion. Unknown Number;‘I like the photos you posted on Mic’s page, you look just as gorgeous as him.’ Unknown Number;‘I was jealous at first but I really like you both, I enjoy your stuff too. Are you going to post more videos?’ He sits the rest of the way up to sit on the edge of the bed and rereads the messages just to make sure he read them right. Who the hell was this? A fan of Yamada’s? Aizawa Shouta;‘Who is this and how did you get my number?’ Unknown Number;‘I’m a just fan wanting to let you know that I like you both.’ Aizawa looks at Yamada, wondering if he should wake him up to let him know but he didn’t have to heart to since he looked so tired; The poor man has been dealing with creepy fans for weeks now. Aizawa Shouta;‘I’m glad you enjoyed it but texting my personal phone is crossing the line, please lose my number and don’t message me again.’ Aizawa tosses his phone on the floor beside the bed and lays down to cuddle up against his boyfriend again. It was still really early and he is very tired, too early to deal with this nonsense. The blonde mutters something in his sleep when Aizawa wraps his arms back around him, pulling the blankets up over their shoulders to get back to sleep. He brushes his hair out of his face and presses another kiss against Yamada’s forehead. Another buzz. He grits his teeth but doesn’t move to check his phone, more focus on falling back to sleep than to entertain this stranger. Briefly he wonders if it’s the same weirdo following Yamada around but it couldn’t be; The man didn’t like him at all out of jealousy but...he did mention he was jealous at first. No, it could be any of Yamada’s fans; There’s a lot of weird people out there, some could have had the tools to track down his phone number. That doesn’t set well with him at all, makes him anxious; What if they find out where they live? Find his parents? Sure, mom might be fine with the idea of him being with a man, maybe tolerates the idea but there’s no way either of his parents would be okay with him posting erotic videos and photos of himself online. Aizawa buries his face against Yamada’s shoulder, feeling his heart race against his chest. He should talk to someone...Shirakumo. He gets out of bed again, grabbing his phone on his way to the bathroom. He doesn’t even look at the messages, just pulls up his friend’s number and calls him. Him and Kan are probably asleep right now but he needs to talk to someone about this or his anxiety won’t let him get back to sleep. Surprisingly, Shirakumo answers on the first couple of rings with a tired hello. “Hey, I’m sorry for calling this early.” “What’s wrong?” Shirakumo asks, voice groggy and sounds to be getting out of bed. “Why are you up at four in the morning?” “Somebody is texting me, it’s from an unknown number and I thinks it’s that dude stalking Hizashi.” Aizawa tells him, leaning against the sink as he rubs his eyes tiredly. “It’s got to be him but I don’t know how he got my number-“ “He’s got your number?” Shirakumo repeats with a groan. “Dude, do you think he got it from one of our teachers or maybe the dean?” “I don’t see why they would give him my number-“ “Could have stolen it from all we know.” Shirakumo suggests, he hears him speaking to someone else, his guess is Kan; Probably telling him what’s going on. “Dude, want us to come over?” Aizawa is about to say yes until he remembers all the toys they left out from last night. “You don’t have to do that, I just...can’t sleep.” Aizawa tells him. “I’m not sure what we can do about this guy, apparently he’s not just stalking Hizashi anymore.” “Oh no, he likes you too now?” Shirakumo gives a halfhearted laugh before muttering something under his breath. “Dude, I think it might be time to go to the police about this.” “That’s what I’m thinking too, I’m getting really tired of this.” Aizawa says, leaning away from the sink to peer through the door and check on his boyfriend. “I’m worried if something isn’t done soon, it might escalate.” “Kan says he’ll tell kick his ass if you want him to.” Shirakumo tells him, making Aizawa laugh a bit; At this point, the creep deserves it. Hell, he’d even kick his ass if it’s what it takes to get him to leave them alone. Maybe he could just block him? Has Yamada blocked him from his page yet? Does he even know what’s his username is? Even if he blocks him, the dude could always make another account. Aizawa should take screenshots of all the messages, including the ones he sent to Yamada in case they need proof of harassment, then take them to the school so they can expel him. Yamada’s teacher, Mr. Todoroko is also a witness to this harassment, he seems in favor of having the guy expelled too; They could go talk to him later. “Aizawa? Hello?” Aizawa snaps out of his thoughts and grips his phone better. “Yeah?” “Kinda zoned out on us for a second.” “I was thinking, sorry.” He closes the bathroom door. “Maybe we can gather proof that he’s harassing us, give the dean enough evidence to have him kicked out of the school. We have messages and then there’s that accident in Mr. Todoroki’s class.” “Mr. Todoroki is a terrifying man, I’m surprised he didn’t rip him a new one.” Shirakumo laughs. “I could also bring us some of the stuff he did with me, the whole stealing my stuff and that one time he showed me...yeah.” “We’ll get together tomorrow and figure something out, I’ll get the screenshots and we can write statements.” “See you tomorrow, Aizawa.”

He watched him. From afar. Like a shadow. He was not staring for that would probably be inappropriate and eerie, but it was furtive and secretly nonetheless. With a certain, but subtle curiosity which simply appeared out of nowhere; popped up inside him like a spark. As if someday, someone had chosen to strike a match inside the depth of his hollow being. A single flamelet. It was just there. Where it came from he couldn’t tell but it decided to never leave him alone since then; growing stronger. Like a slowly forming habit. Then a craving. Then a want. Omen watched him. Nothing more than a glimpse. A peek. Here and there. When he spoke. When they worked together. When he did that magnificent magic trick with his hands. Then he caught himself gazing in amazement and as the realization kicked in, quite hard and unexpected, he found himself tripping from the unsettling feeling of getting noticed. It made his pulse quicken. Everytime. For no particular reason. It just happened. Like an impulse. A reflex. Something that was beyond his control. Sometimes it felt like getting choked and when he feared the sensation became too overwhelming, he turned away. It was the first day of summer. The temperature scratched already at the hundred degrees mark as they arrived back from Zurich. After twelve hours of flight he felt unusually wretched and he knew that something was wrong. The heat hit him like a wall. Crushing and furious, crawled under the thick fabric of clothes and bandages to suck the remaining shreds of skin from his black bones. Omen trembled. Just a bit. Maybe not more than a second. He felt a hand brushing his shoulder. A single touch. Light. It was like someone had set him on fire. Hotter than the blazing californian sun and his entire cosmos crumbled and shrunk until there was nothing left than the miserable, hot mess of his existence. He was five foot six pure misery. “Are you alright?” He heard his voice crawling inside his mind; a bit too close. A bit too concerned. A bit too soft. He yanked away and leaned to the first thing that was swirling inside the turmoil of his mind. “Get lost.” He didn’t like people. He didn’t hate them, but he couldn’t do anything with them either. In his view, the feeling was mutual. They had a tendency to annoy him; to exhaust him emotionally. People tired him. Interpersonal conflicts were stressful. He could stand them for a while, he could work with them and he was able to talk to them. Simply, he could get along with them. Albeit, there was always that nagging and tedious feeling rising slowly that made him wish to vanish quickly and whenever he got aware of the fact that he was forced to spend more time than necessary with them, this feeling turned into anger. Omen was not patient. He was not kind. In his early stages, when he was nothing more than a husk, surreal and torn open like a bleeding wound, he was feral. Bloodthirsty. Rude, at best. For more than an hour they were stuck in traffic now and he could feel his frustration approaching with the dull pain that was about to form behind his eyes; slowly turning his thoughts into grey matter; slabby and sticky. It was noisy, stifling and hot. He could hear snippets of conversation coming from the hands-free device over the din. “Shouldn’t you already be here? What’s taking you so long?” “It’s rush hour, Sage!” Jett replied; probably as annoyed as he felt right now. “Trust me at least I would be way faster if …” Her voice trailed off as he tried to block her out. Clink. There was another sound trying to drive its way into his ears. It was coming from right next to him. Pretty obnoxious on top of everything else. Clink. Clink. He heard it again and this time, he turned his gaze to the direction. Only to catch Cypher’s uncovered face; occupied with thoughts of his own. He looked unusually tensed; almost a bit edgy. His jaw working; his eyes fixating an undefined point. It was an odd view and staring at his exposed face felt weird. Like it was … not right. That kind of feeling that always filled him with tension. Omen was not used to the view, but he assumed that even when someone felt at home with hot temperatures, it wouldn’t be a pretty good idea to wear a mask right now. On the other hand, he came to the quick conclusion that he definitely had no clue because normally heat didn’t bother him. Today was different. Something had changed. With him. He knew exactly what it was, but he struggled against thinking about it in hopes simply avoiding his thoughts would prevent it from happening. To prevent himself from staring, Omen settled to watch his hands instead, playing with a lighter and a package. It took him a moment to collect himself and put one and one together. “Smoking kills.” He said. Inside his head, it had sounded far more simple. A casual mention. Spoken out loud, he realized how firm and lecturing it actually was. Maybe that was the reason for the strange look he got in exchange. Omen couldn’t pin down what exactly it was. It made him uncomfortable for it was far from being just offended or irritated or surprised. Then he blinked abruptly like he had been very far away. “Excuse me?” He asked oddly put-on. Omen avoided sighing in annoyance. “This.” He replied with the minimal effort of tilting his head to indicate what he meant. “It’s disgusting. You will not do that.” He added sharply. He saw his eyes widened for a second. Cypher just stared at him. Long. Intense. Deep. Like he saw something while simply just staring at him that he couldn’t figure out on his own. No matter how hard he would try. Something secretly and vaguely nostalgic. Then his lips curled up into a warm smile. “I am sorry. It’s a bad habit.” Omen crossed his arms and leaned his head against the cold window to avoid his gaze. “I don’t care. You will not do this next to me.” Now, that definitely sounded like a demand. He heard a deep sigh. It was not coming from Cypher. “I agree.” Jett turned her head slightly as she spoke. “You will not smoke in my car.” * Omen hadn’t been honest to himself. He had indeed felt something like that way before. In Zurich it had been less intense and inconspicuous and it hadn’t the power to throw him entirely off the course. It was over before it even had a chance to reach him completely and he had been thankful for that. Fleeting and so small that he was content with the thought to just let it pass by; to be done with it way before it even began. It had been more subtle. Mellow. Faint. The feeling that had overtook him, right under the sun, was different. Quick. Fierce and violent. It had been overwhelming and breathtaking; like drowning. The kind of feeling that was similar to dying where only a tiny part very deep inside got torn out and devoured completely; lost forever. Kind and gentle; still cruel. It was like something had been taken away from him. With no hopes of ever getting it back again. Leaving an empty spot that couldn’t be filled or replaced with anything else. It was unnerving and irritating. Omen avoided to sigh deeply; deciding to brush his thoughts aside. He came to the bitter realization that feeling incomplete and unstable had always been a part of his being. It never occurred to him that at some point it would bear enough weight to matter to him. And he wasn’t going to start giving it a meaning now. It would pass; like it always did. As a constantly fading existence, he had the certainty that nothing was lasting. Everything was evanescent. From his position he watched Killjoy digging through the cupboards of the kitchen. “Mich würde mal interessieren, where do all our plates go?” She murmured to herself, still distracted. He observed how she took out a notebook from her pocket and flicked through the pages. Given that it was relatively early in the morning and that her behavior was rather bizarre, he preferred to pay her as little attention as possible. Whatever was going on inside her mind right now, was probably not worth enough to become a part of it. Settling for the conclusion that he definitely didn’t want to know what she was about to do and neither having the interest to find out about it, he turned his gaze back to his coffee. He made a mental note to avoid the kitchen in the early hours in the future. Unfortunately, it seemed he could never distract himself for too long. He lifted his gaze from his coffee; dull and insipid for his taste hadn’t come back to him yet. But he never drank coffee for its taste at all. Just out of habit like he had always done and for the mere purpose of keeping him awake. He heard Cypher way before he entered the room. Already dressed in more comfortable clothes. Something between casual and formal. The kind that slightly implied the man had indeed woken up recently, but possessed enough self-discipline to make sure to definitely not look like that. "Good morning." He announced; a smile on his lips, far too gentle for his own liking, and at the next moment that slowly increasing feeling of uneasiness quickly spiraled out of control. Omen felt the sensation of a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Light and soft. A fleeting gesture. Less the result of sober intention but rather caused by pure manner. Simple. Almost imprudent. And he tried to fight the slowly rising urge to tense under his touch and watched himself failing miserably. Something deep inside him wanted to scream. Loud. At the top of his lungs. "What is she doing?" Cypher asked as soon as he took notice of her actions; his voice merely a whisper to not provoke the girl’s attention. His calm expression unchanged as if there was nothing out of the ordinary happening. Omen took a moment before he finally felt able to withdraw from the feeling. Careful and cautious. As if it would tear him apart and shred into pieces what was left of him. He could still feel it lingering. On his skin. Inside his flesh. He could feel how it vanished. Bit by bit. Like someone had thrown a pebble into a lake. Too small to cause ripples. Just sinking. Slowly. Silent. Swallowed by the dark depth. “I …” He began; heard his own voice like it was coming from very far away. He cleared his throat before trying once more. “I have no idea.” * Omen kept himself busy. With nothing at all. With everything at once. He knit. For it made him calm and focused. A distraction. He hadn’t left his rooms for one, two, three days in a row. The lingering feeling didn’t vanish. It was still there. Somewhere wrapped under bandages and loose skin; buried beneath dead flesh. Scratching the inside of his raw existence. Growing. Getting stronger. Twisting. Turning. Gnawing. Sucking him dry and leaving him empty. On the fourth day Omen watched the sun rising and knew he hadn’t simply lost something; leaving a hollow spot somewhere in the void that wished to be whole again. It was aching. A craving. A want. For more. * Two days later he had enough from hiding. It wasn’t helpful and all distractions turned out to be nothing more than a weak attempt to ignore the inescapability. He didn't know how he was going to handle his new realization; how to deal with such a bizarre feeling. But he knew, he wanted it to be gone. Forever. And since he was quite sure that he couldn’t banish the feeling itself for it had started to attach itself to him like a pesky and hungry tick, he decided to dodge the alleged cause instead. To approach such a matter with sheer logic was far-fetched and bold. Nevertheless, the assumption crept into him that if he just tried hard enough to simply famish whatever was inside of him, it would die like the rest of himself. Unfortunately, the cause of his problems had a quite unusual talent to appear whenever he simply decided to continue his daily business. To the point, it started to feel slightly strange. It was not like the man was indeed following him; that would definitely be a bit unsettling and concerning. It was much simpler than that. Cypher just showed up. He was just there. A bit too often that it couldn’t be just blind chance. A little bit too less to be assumed there was some kind of method behind it. “What’s your favorite color?” He asked him once. First he tried to just ignore it. Then he found that to be a very ridiculous and childish decision. And aside from asking him the common stuff and greeting him, Cypher did nothing that was actually to be counted as troubling. “Blue.” He answered sincerely and left before he had a chance to reply something to that. * Sometimes things became a bit strange. Between the ordinary stuff there was something different. Deeper. A drastic change that didn’t feel right. As if someone had skipped a few chapters of a book. It was unpleasant for it felt out of place. The kind of questions someone wouldn’t ask a ghost they occasionally met in the hallway by chance. The kind of questions someone normally didn’t ask a stranger. It made the voice inside his head ask why he received all of this attention in the first place and what he had done to cause this change of events. It reminded himself that before all of this even began, there was nothing but silence between them. And it made him remember, that he missed this silence more than anything else. These kind of moments when he wished he could just go back to be nothing more than a shadow. “I wonder what keeps you up at night.” He heard him say right next to him. Omen stopped playing with his phone. He bit his lips while trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean. Or better yet, to figure out what kind of answer someone would probably expect from a remark like that. Was it in his own interest to share something like that? Did he want to tell someone else about it? Why would someone ask something like that in the first place? He started to feel lost and felt stupid because of it. So he settled for the first thing that came to his mind and seemed to be the only good choice. “Mind your own business.” * “When is your birthday?” It was a fairly simple question. Everyone could answer something like that easily but he was not everyone. And therefore he didn’t know what exactly he should reply because telling everyone around him that he didn’t know started to become a very tiring game. “My birthday?” He asked and sounded more puzzled than he wanted to be for that was such a precise inquiry totally out of the blue. Then he recalled that nothing this man asked was simply just out of the blue at all. It was either perfidious calculation or nefarious curiosity, but never arbitrary or casually. For someone who loved to gather delicate information about everyone whenever he could, Cypher had chosen a pretty ungainly tactic to do so when it came to him Guess, you can’t just google a ghost, he thought and he would smile if it would be less pathetic. “Yes, your birthday. The day you were born.” Cypher repeated patiently. “I don’t remember.” He said; slightly frustrated and hoped he was firm enough to indicate that he was far away from being fond of such a conversation. Omen could indeed remember things, but the small ones; the ones that normally simply passed by and fell less informative and uninteresting to share with anyone. Like still knowing about his way to school for he must have taken that route by bike at least more than a hundred times; past by the small convenience store that had to be existing somewhere in a drowsy town somewhere in this world. Or when he thought of strawberries, he also thought of lazy sundays. Other things were born of such a fundamental basis, that he just knew them. Like that coffee was not supposed to be drinked with milk and that pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza. But these were not memories, but profound convictions formed by life and experience. Everything was there, he assumed; somewhere hidden deep inside. He just failed to pull bits and pieces out of the blank darkness that was his mind and continued to tumble and trip over his own thoughts. He watched him simply raising a brow. “Well, in that case, what day do you think you might be born?” He continued in an almost playful tone of voice. Omen didn’t answer right away. He was haunted by the feeling that he had to come up with something satisfying. Anything of interest. Anything that was able to give others around him the impression that he wasn’t just completely lost and his mind not only a chaotic mess. “Winter. Maybe.” He answered after a while. Winter felt right. “Why would you even want to know?” He asked; already resigning at the fact that he might not get a clear explanation. He never did. At this point he wondered why he was still trying to make out the meaning behind this man’s behavior. His expectation seemed not to fail him for he watched as he tilted his head slightly and met him with a smile, that inflicted in him the impression of being rather suggestive and almost sardonic. “You mean aside from my curious nature of having to know everything about everyone?” He asked in return quitely cryptic. Omen hesitated for a moment. It was obvious Cypher was simply toying with him. Why else would he constantly avoid every attempt of getting asked for his true intentions with a very vague and secretive reply? Nonetheless, he wished he would get at least the smallest glimpse. “What else?” He replied; trying to sound casual at its best. “I fear it will ruin the surprise if I tell you the truth.” Not knowing what to think of this remark, Omen decided it was for the best to leave without another word. * Omen laid on the rooftop. The only quiet place at The Agency; an old building with a long history that had passed through many hands. Starting as a hotel in the early days, it had been restored and reconstructed over the centuries to fulfil a lot of purposes. He needed time to be alone. Furthermore, he needed time to think. He didn’t know what to make out of all of this for it made no sense to him. So the only conclusion he could make was that all this effort of asking him nagging questions was only an attempt to mock him. Why else would someone come up with various digs about his personal life when it was quite obvious that he had no knowledge to answer them in the first place? Omen didn’t know if this sudden realization was able to hurt him. It shouldn’t hurt him, he thought, for it never bothered him that he had long lost and forgotten about his past or former self. He wasn’t human anymore; just the abstract concept of something that was used to be human once. A grotesque reflection doomed to be falling apart. He accepted that fact long ago. However, he had no clue why being constantly reminded of his flaws and defectiveness filled the hollow place of his heart with an unbearable heavy weight. The fact that it was there and nagging at the backside of his head, made him furious. When things started to get complicated and he feared to reach the point of overwhelming him, he dealt with them in the best way possible. Avoidance. It was simple. Keeping his distance, calming down, hiding a little, collecting himself. Soon enough things would go back to normal; with him being just nothing more than a shadow lurking in the background. Unnoticed. Silently observing. People lost their spontaneous interest very quickly when faced with rejection. He turned to the next page of his book. “There you are.” Omen felt like he was jumping out of the remains of his skin. “Fuck!” He yelled. “Oh, I am so sorry.” “Can you fucking not sneak up on people?” He heard himself hissing, only to realize a moment later how it was plainly his own fault for letting something like this happen in the first place, allowing to let his guard down. But he was resentful enough to blame it on someone else. It felt good and satisfying. “I am very sorry about that. I didn’t expect anyone to be here.” And then, when Omen almost considered showing a bit of forbearance due to the fact that it was possible that Cypher couldn’t have known that, he added: “Never would it have come to my mind to find you right here.” Narrowing his eyes at that, he asked. “Why so?” Something of that statement bothered him; he couldn’t figure out what exactly it was but he felt oddly aggrieved. And with it the rising urge to justify himself. “I like sunshine. I can enjoy nice things.” His voice filled with bitterness. He could feel something coil inside of him at the gaze he got in return, but refused to look away. “That’s not what I meant.” Cypher simply replied, half puzzled, half apologizing. Omen sighed; strangely exhausted. “What do you want?” He asked while he closed his book; folding a corner of the page for later. Cypher raised a brow. “Excuse me?” “What do you want from me?” He repeated, a bit more specific this time. Even though he wasn’t quite sure if Cypher was actually not understanding what he had meant or just decided to elude his demand. For a moment he thought, the man was about to give off a sigh, but he didn’t. “I am afraid to say that I don’t understand your question.” Omen hesitated for a moment because the obvious confusion of Cypher made him uncertain about his choice of words. He caught himself in the realization that he didn’t know if the man was just oblivious enough and actually told the truth or was just trying to deceive him once again. There was a small chance that it could be both at the same time. “All of this.” He started for an explanation; far more calm and collected than before. Then he got aware of the fact that his poor attempt of clarification was not going to solve anything. So he sighed deeply and added: “Your whole attention towards me. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. Stop that.” Cypher fell very silent for a while. He just stood there, played with his lighter, and didn't say a single word. As if he was thinking and was about to take as much time as possible to do so. “I apologize for my intrusive behavior.” He finally began; calm and gentle. “I simply assumed you would like some company.” There was a small pause and he could observe his features twisting into something that reminded him vaguely of regret. Even though Omen was quite sure that this wasn’t exactly the right word to describe it. But he lacked the emotional range to name it better. “It didn’t even come to my mind that it would make you feel uncomfortable.” Cypher continued. “How imprudent. Please, forgive me.” He had to admit that he was forgiving enough to put at least a bit of severity on this explanation that he took his time to at least think about it. Ultimately, Omen came to the sobering conclusion that it might be a mistake. Something inside of him called to him to feel bothered about the phrasing of his words. And maybe only, because he was desperately looking for a valid reason to do so. “And what exactly made you think I was going to like some company at all?” He asked, brushing everything else he had said aside, if not deliberately ignoring it to not run into the risk of revealing that it actually offended him. Deep down, he felt the concern approaching that he was not going to like the upcoming answer to his own question for he was quite sure it was going to attack the last remains of his pride. And Omen had nothing else left of himself than his pride alone. He watched him as he lit a cigarette and considered if he should rebuke him to not do this in his presence, but grudgingly decided against it. Omen had no convincing reason why he hated this more than pesky habit on him - exclusively on him - and he struggled against the possibility to embarrass himself if he had to explain his aversion openly. “I fear I have no clear answer to that.” He admitted, almost a bit regretful. Omen snorted; derogatory and spiteful. “Have a go at it.” He pressed on; feeling a bit too much at the same time and being unable to separate and allocate his emotions one after another. As if it was just an indefinable and chaotic mess of everything at once clogging his head. There was anger; he could feel that. Hot and piercing; licking at his heart and trying to grind it into nothing but ashes. And he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, it was just there to annihilate everything else hidden in the depth underneath it. Once more Cypher fell silent. Instead, he took a long drag of his cigarette and gave him a look of which Omen made sure not to ascribe too much meaning into. He had the dire sinister feeling that if he did it would set his heart on fire and the slowly approaching fear of that to happen was far greater than the steadily growing need to find out what exactly was wrong with himself. For that something was indeed wrong with him was something he couldn’t simply dismiss, He was just not a bit interested in adding this oddity to his life. “You are always so alone …” Whatever came after would never have the opportunity to be said. “I don’t mind being alone.” Omen cut in before giving him a chance to finish whatever he was going to say for he had a feeling where this was about to lead and he didn’t want it to happen. He didn't need his pity, he wanted to say. He refused to do so. It would sound as if something like that would matter to him. It didn’t. “Leave me be.” Omen stared at the ceiling as hours passed by. He did that often. Sleep became a foreign concept. When he had nothing to do aside from his own thoughts, he was awake for days, weeks. Listening to the strange sounds of the night, the ticking from the clock on the bedside table. Nothing but thinking until dawn rose slowly; avoiding dreams. He knew he had to sleep. He knew he needed sleep at some point. Sleep was an inevitable thing after all; even for someone like him. It was a necessary and important task to prevent a mind from going completely insane. But it was difficult to find rest for someone like him; someone who never tired physically and lost the ability to experience exhaustion. Like he was always on the run. Head full to the brim; running after his thoughts like a dog was chasing cars. You are always so alone … The words echoed inside his head. Over and over again. Like a broken record. What did that even mean? It had been no lie, when he had said, he didn’t mind being alone. He liked being alone. He had indeed always been alone; as far as he was able to remember. It never bothered him. He didn’t know anything aside from that; he couldn’t miss things he had no experience of nor was he able to remember properly. Why should he start to care? Why should anyone start to care at this point? He felt something tighten deep inside of him; it didn’t allow him to breathe. As if his heart was nothing more than a black lump. Maybe it actually was. Who could tell? He closed his eyes, listened to the ticking, forced himself to take a deep breath. It was unnecessary to think about something like that. Omen was sure he had been clear enough to state his point. And as far as he could tell, he reached his goal. The man hadn’t dared to bother him for a week now. It was like he had assumed; people backed off from their wet ideas very quickly when met with obstacles. Stop thinking, he heard himself yelling inside his head. Sadly, he didn’t know why the mere confirmation of being right still felt like a disappointment. Heavy and defeating. But he was sure it didn’t matter to give it a second thought. In the end he achieved exactly what he wanted. No matter how hard the nagging feeling was about to rebel against his goals. It would disappear; sooner or later. He would either forget its existence or it would simply die like a plant without water. It made no difference to him. Omen allowed himself to drift between the odd state of being awake and asleep. Feeling light-headed and weightless. He turned his gaze and started at the digital clock next to him. His heart dropped. He had overslept. Again. * As he entered the room he was met with their looks. According to how unpleasant they seemed by his sudden entrance, he assumed he had disturbed them in whatever they were currently doing. “You’re late.” Sage said; a mixture of disappointment and sober remark. Oh thanks, I wouldn’t have noticed, he wanted to reply, but thought it would be a far better idea to simply let it go. He gave off a simple shrug at something so obvious and took a seat. He placed his cup on the table and waited for this event to pass him by. Fuck, why did they need meetings in person at all in a centruy ruled by video calls and voice chats? They could just simply mail him if they wanted something important from him. Raze leaned closer next to him; a smile on her face. “Have you been up all night again?” He tried to ignore her. Sage turned her gaze away from him to continue with whatever she was doing before he had the effrontery to interrupt them. “Are we finally complete now? Where are Sova and Phoenix?” She asked. “On a mission in London.” Brimstone informed. “They won’t be back until next week.” She let her pen fall on the table and sighed softly. “Then let’s get started.” * Omen caught himself day-dreaming. He watched him. His hands. How they moved along with him when he was talking. His smile. The way his lips curled up when he looked at someone specific he might consider sympathetic. Without listening to any of his words; simply enjoying the tone of his voice. Warm and bright. It didn’t matter to him what the man said or if it made sense to him. It was the way he spoke and how it sounded. It reminded him of sunshine and when he closed his eyes for a brief moment; just listening and enjoying the constant tone of his speaking, Omen could see it right before him. A clear blue sky. A hot day. It was painful. And he felt more and more pathetic with every second he did so. He faced the question, even though it was an unpleasant one, why he was still doing this. Not only had it become a rather weird habit, but, given his attempt to bring clarity back into his life and only seeing himself ultimately failing to do so, was dubiously ambiguous. Furthermore, he was tormented by the disturbing assumption that now his behavior was no longer hidden and unseen. He had been noticed. Cypher had noticed him. And to Omen it was hard to imagine that he could just go back to his usual role after all of this. Back to his old self. Being nothing more than a shadow; something that only appears right in the corner of the eye. Like a dark spot. This thought worried him the most. But even if his life would have depended on it, he couldn’t think of a bright explanation. Why can’t you stop doing this? The question echoed unanswered inside his head. Blank and vacuous. He wanted to convince himself that his incapacity to find a clear answer to his question was possibly due to his lack of sleep. But that would have been a lie. Omen knew that very well. It was something entirely else. And the longer he pondered over it, admitting to himself with each passing second of uncertainty that he couldn't determine what it was, the more it filled him with frustration. Not being able to resist this urge; feeling like he was gradually losing control, if not his mind, worried him even more. Slowly, but steadily. Like drinking poisoned water. In tiny little sips. And he wasn’t able to stop, because otherwise he would die of thirst. He felt nothing but miserable. For his lack of - what he thought of being - self-discipline; his weaknesses. When the realization hit him, quite hard and unprepared, he feared he would have to throw up. He had enjoyed the strange kind of company. It had been irritating and confusing which was something he wouldn’t deny for he was not used to that; used to people simply engaging with him into more conversation aside from the one, two casual sentences of mandatory politeness. He wouldn’t say that he missed that somehow, but it had been … nice. To some degree. He was honest enough to acknowledge this fact. And since it was gone, he realized how empty his life actually was and that he probably had locked out the only person who would have been willing to share interest in his being. For whatever reason Omen was not able to see for himself. It could have been kindness or sincerity. But in the end it was very likely that it was nothing but pity. And he didn’t want anyone’s pity, he didn’t want pretended kindness. He didn’t want to open up to anyone. He … He didn’t want to be hurt. Omen felt himself choking on the thought. He swallowed whatever was about to climb its way up inside of him. “And why don’t you just upload a virus from here?” Raze cut in; annoyed and probably bored. Her elbow on the table, her head in her hands. He was grateful for her brisk interjection because it pulled him roughly back into reality. Cypher looked like he hadn’t expected such a question for he hesitated for a moment. Maybe her comment caught him off guard for some reason. “Unfortunately I was not able to open the ports. Their security system is quite sensitive and the chances are high that the system will not only recognize an external access but also track it back in no time.” He explained patiently. And then, when he got aware of the fact that his statement might come off as misleading, he added: “It is possible to force myself inside, of course. But it’s an arduous task and it takes a lot of time.” “How much time?” She pressed on. “Months. At least.” He replied quickly but rather honestly. “Uploading the virus directly on their main server will elude their security. It’s …” He stopped for a moment to let off a sigh. “You don’t have to understand how it actually works, okay? You just have to know that once it’s done I assure full access to all of Kingdom’s secrets.” “So, the only problem left is how to get the virus inside their headquarters?” Sage asked patiently. According to the expression of everyone else it was very safe to assume they were glad someone found the courage to bring the matter finally to a point. Cypher nodded in agreement. “This is correct.” He felt a tug at his cape and realized that he hadn't been paying as much attention as he should. He tensed and sat up straight. “Omen can teleport, the last time I checked.” Raze chirped oddly excited. Omen untangled his cape from the grip vigorously. “No.” He replied sharply. And when he was met with her confused look, he assumed that it would be a good idea to give her an actual explanation. “Like I told you I am not able to teleport such a long distance.” Not that he had actually tried something like that for that would be insane. Teleportation was already exhausting when it came to rather short distances alone. It was not like he could just bend existing laws of physics to his own will. Jett leaned back in her chair. “Ok, so that means another twelve hours flight, huh? Sucks to be you, guys.” He watched her folding her hands on top of her stomach. When she was about to lift her feet casually on the table, Sage nudged her side. “Das wird nicht nötig sein. I have good news for all of you. My newest project is as good as complete.” Killjoy announced in pride and excitement. She placed a notebook on the table and started to flip through it. “If my calculations are correct … Was sage ich da? Natürlich sind sie das. We are able to reach our destination in roughly less than five hours.” Brimstone narrowed his eyes. “How safe is that?” He didn’t mind hiding his suspicion. Killjoy looked for a moment as if she didn’t understand the question. “As safe as taking a trip the normal way. Just faster, you know? Because that’s the point.” She replied and stopped turning pages. “I came to the conclusion that we need to improve the efficiency of our time management. And since I am not able to fix human failure I started with eradicating every technical inequality.” A grin forming on her lips. Raze sighed; loud. “Alright, I think we get it.” “I doubt that.” The girl responded flat while pushing her glasses back to her nose. Sage folded her hands thoughtfully. “What do you think, Captain?” Brimstone took his time to respond. “I doubt we'll get a chance like that anytime soon.” He began slowly. “Even though I am not completely convinced. But it seems we have no other choice left than to give it a try.” “I assure you my invention is safe.” Killjoy negotiated with a tinge of offense. The man met her with a firm look. “You might not believe me, but this is not the only thing that concerns me.” He stated. “Nun, we still can take Omen with us as support.” She explained. “It doesn’t matter how far he can teleport. It just matters that he can teleport without being noticed.” “Would you agree to that?” Brimstone asked in a tone like his choice would even matter in this kind of situation. Omen didn’t answer right away. He was occupied with the vague realization that was about to unfold right before him. And he was unable to comprehend it to its full extent for he felt with every passing second in which he refused to speak how the pressure rose around him. He was torn between his own wishes and what people would call the greater good. He licked his lips. “Sure.” He replied and felt his empty stomach turn. * The following days were filled with preparations. When it came to Killjoy, this actually made sense to him. Whatever she put together should have the necessary claim, maybe not to kill them on the spot. And Cypher did what ... Cypher probably always did. Sitting behind screens and typing codes into rows. Omen don't know. It didn't interest him. It shouldn't interest him. But the mere imagination aroused in him a strange feeling of amusement. Omen wondered if such a virus couldn’t just be programmed in wise foreknowledge and just stored somewhere in between until needed. But he would rather bite off his own fingers than ask such a question aloud. And aside from that, this probably wasn't the only task taking its toll. After all, they hadn't stolen that hard drive from Zurich for nothing. He was surprisingly uninterested in what fascinating secrets about the void might be on that hard drive. Nothing could be far more dire than the consciousness to actually be a part of the void and therefore forced to be the best living example of the terrifying things it was about to do with physics. No that he was able to hand a single glimpse of explanation to offer in return. His mind was mostly chaos. And he strictly refused any memory of it. As if it was a forbidden path he didn’t want to explore inside his head. Even if, most of the time, it ended in nothing more than confusing formulas haunting him. And sometimes a voice which was not his own whispering to him. They don’t know what they are doing … He brushed it off like someone would like to get rid of a ghost of the past; already knowing that his attempt was quite dauntless for he was forced to live with the outcome of these surreal events any given day of his existence. And so he spent the next few days with nothing. Like he always did. Aside from thinking. That was everything he had left which he could make use of. One morning, as he watched the sunrise, he came to the frustrating as well as sobering realization that it would endanger his well-considered resolutions if he ventured to join the upcoming mission. He found himself caught in the predicament of not being able to avoid Cypher and work with him at the same time. One inevitably precluded the other. And for some inexplicable reason, this circumstance struck him devastatingly. Perhaps, he confessed to himself, because he was content to self-reflect, he suspected that he was not able to follow through with his own decision. He was afraid of being indulgent and weak and he lacked the necessary time to acquire the needed willpower. Furthermore, he probably didn’t possess the foresight and maturity to be as neutral as possible in his dealings with people. Omen briefly asked himself how old he actually was, but dismissed it with a bit of dejection when he realized that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t answer this question anyway. He set his coffee aside, as if with the realization also his taste had come back in an almost conspiratorial way, and found that he was not ready for this. He could lock this horrible feeling which plagued him inside a box. He could ignore it. There were days when he had almost forgotten about it and was just a dark spot in an even darker corner. But he knew with a sinister certainty that it would instantly reappear out of nowhere if the moment allowed it to do so. Maybe even stronger than before. * One day later he decided to pay Sage a visit. Sage. Of all people. Something he never thought would ever cross his mind. But he had known for a while that something was wrong with him and maybe this was just the peak of his impending madness. However, he tried to convince himself that his concern was justified enough to be considered. And the last thing Omen wanted was to risk that his personal matters would turn into an obstacle for anyone else. Outside the door though, he simply stood there. For quite a while; feeling like a cat that couldn't decide if it really wanted to be on the other side. Then he finally knocked. When she didn’t respond, he allowed himself to open the door. Only to find the entire room dimmed and shielded from sunlight. “Whoever that is, stay right there!” He blinked against the darkness. “What are you doing, Sage?” He asked and tried to sound a bit less irritated by the view. She didn’t answer right away. Instead she continued with whatever she was occupied with in a bit of a hurry. He heard a drawer being open and closed. Then the lights turned on. “Photosensitive tissue samples. I need to shield them from light sources when I am working with them.” Sage finally settled for an explanation; now bathing in the light source of the room. “Now, what can I do for you?” She asked as she put away the rest of her equipment to clean her desk, only to pause in her doing a moment later to meet his gaze. “Are you sick?” She added, half worried and half curious. Omen pondered over the question if he wanted to know why she was working with something like that and decided against it. “No, I am fine.” He said and couldn’t shake off the feeling of how much that sounded like a lie. “I need to ask you a favor.” “Oh.” She sounded surprised and he had to admit that such a request coming from him must indeed be unusual. Sage narrowed her eyes softly, tilting her head. “What kind of favor?” Her voice filled with the slightest hint of confusion. “I want to request to be replaced by someone else in the upcoming mission.” Sage met him with a blank expression. “That’s a bit unexpected.” She simply replied without judging. He assumed that to her that was just a simple sober statement. “You seemed to be in agreement with the contract in the last meeting if I remember right. What made you change your mind?” She wanted to know as she began once more to tidy up her desk. “Personal conflicts.” Sage stopped, raising an eyebrow. “May you explain that a bit more explicitly?” “I don’t want to …” He began slowly. Then he stopped to clear his throat as he realized how immature he must be sounding. “I am not able to cooperate properly with Agent Cypher.” She hesitated for a moment and it was hard to tell if she was trying to avoid letting off a deep sigh. “And may you tell me why?” She asked unimpressed and quite patient. “I thought you would get along.” At the moment he was glad for the fact that she couldn’t see his face, for he narrowed his eyes in utter disbelief. “He is ...” Obnoxious. Intrusive. Shady. Omen fell silent as he got aware that none of his possible words described well enough what he was trying to say. Even though they all applied to this man in some kind of way, he had the feeling that all of them would be highly inappropriate and revealing a very personal level he wasn’t going to share with anyone. Sage simply blinked. As her lips slowly curled up into a small smile, he felt his own perplexity rise from the abyss. He realized a bit too late that he hadn’t answered her question and it filled him with a strange feeling. Familiar to bashfulness and yet so far away from it at the same time. “Did you ever think about the possibility that he just wants to be your friend?” She finally asked, pretty relaxed. He frowned, irritated about her question and was wondering how on earth she could come up with such an inconceivable and preposterous conclusion. Of all things that might be the reason for Cypher's unbearable behavior, this was the last one that would come to his mind. Omen didn’t remember having any kind of experience with friends, but he was quite sure that someone who wants to establish a friendship would not act like this in any way. Apart from the mere fact that the man seemed not to consider that Omen might have his own word on this matter. Even if Sage could be right, no one was entitled to just decide for him that he was in need of some kind of alliance. “I don’t need friends.” He finally replied; feeling the urge to justify himself. Friends were a concept Omen abandoned long ago. For him, there was no sense in building up a close connection to someone else when there was still the haunting promise lurking around every corner of another potential death and with it the inevitable certainty to forget; to be less himself. Every time. Just pieces and fragments. A shattered mind. Sweet memories lost forever. Why would he be in need of friends when he wouldn’t be able to remember them someday? His stomach clenched as he realized he had lied to Sage. It wasn’t like he didn’t need friends. He didn’t want friends. That was quite the difference. He didn’t want people to be hurt about something he couldn’t change. He didn’t want them to feel guilty or worried. He didn’t want them to care about him when he couldn’t spare them from the harm he might cause in the long run. Forgetting someone was easy; it caused him no pain. He had forgotten many people. But being left behind with the knowledge that the person someone once liked would never be the same ever again, must be dreadful. Almost tragic. He would rather be alone. Sage’s face switched to amusement. “Oh yes. The big, spooky Omen doesn’t need friends.” Her words ripped him out of his thoughts only to narrow his eyes behind his hood in bewilderment about her comment. “Sage, was this sarcasm coming from you?” He asked and failed to hide his amazement. “I would advise you to at least consider that you may need to rely on someone else aside from yourself.” She said, simply ignoring his statement as if nothing ever happened. “We all need to from time to time.” Then she narrowed her eyes in a way he couldn’t describe any further. “Aside from that, he seems to like you.” She added with a soft smile. “But I don’t like him.” He pressed on and tried to ignore the urge to cross his arms. Inside his mind that sounded like a good argument. Now, he felt utterly childish that his only concern about the whole matter was just based on his personal aversion. Omen watched her as she rolled her eyes. “You say that about everyone.” She retorted with mild emphasis; her voice still soft and calm. “And I know it’s not true. Deep down you know that too.” “What do you know about me?” Sage took her time to put a pile of papers neatly into place. “You underestimate me. I know quite a lot about you.” She finally answered. “Aside from that …” Her eyes narrowed in a quite serious way before she spoke once again. “If you would really wish to be exchanged you would ask The Captain instead of me.” Omen had to admit something about her words that he would later probably regret. She had a point. For the beginning of July it was pretty cold in the early morning hours. So cold, he almost wished that he had brought a jacket. They left before dawn had even set in. Two days later than originally planned for Killjoy had insisted on making a few more preparations. In case something could go wrong. She didn’t bother to explain herself any further and he didn’t mind asking. Now he was trapped in uneasy silence and high proximity; eight miles above sea level with no escape. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs as he avoided any kind of movement. Hands shaky; palms sticky from cold sweat. Fuck, he hated flying. He tried to focus on everything else that was helpful enough to distract him. He could hear the bass of the loud music coming from Killjoy’s headphones over the roaring sound of the engine. Omen sighed. This was going to be the longest flight of his entire life; as far as he was actually able to tell. At least Killjoy didn’t seem to be in the mood for a little chit-chat. The last thing he needed right now was being in the middle of two prodigies talking for hours about technical stuff. He sensed movement next to him and tried his best not to tense at the feeling of Cypher’s shoulder brushing his own. “I am glad you decided to assist me in this mission.” He said out of nowhere before raising his gaze from his touchscreen. Omen narrowed his eyes in suspicion. That sounded like it was up to him to make this choice. Even though he was quite sure that if he had actually asked Brimstone to be exchanged, the man would have just simply agreed and had considered another solution to get the information they needed. Sage was right after all. Omen hated it when she was right, but at least she had the decency and grace to never bring it up openly. In the end, he never wanted to be exchanged in the first place. This whole mission was of great importance to all of them. He simply didn’t want to be the factor that would cause their failure. Nonetheless, Cypher’s choice of words confused him enough to express his interest slightly. “Why?” Omen asked in response. A second later he wished he simply had bitten his tongue instead. “You worked for Kingdom.” Cypher answered in a tone that indicated the answer was so obvious in the first place that it was just a pity to even speak it aloud. He had to remind himself that the man literally had no clue how far away from the truth he actually was with his remark. Now, he regretted his choice in expressing his interest. He tried to answer the question of what exactly he had expected, aside from the mere obvious, without any success. Omen crossed his arms. “I didn’t work for them.” He simply stated. He was neither in the mood to explain that in detail nor interested in coming up with justifications for this chapter of his past. However, it was quite ironic to say at least. After all the times of dying and decaying he was still able to remember the darkest chapters of his own past. Something he would rather forget if he had a choice and if it wouldn’t come with the price of completely losing the rest of himself. He turned his glance towards the window. One day, he thought to himself, he will die and when he will come back once again, he might lose the last straw of his mere existence. The only thing that reminded him of his course in this world. The memory he had of the events with Kingdom were a small constant. A barely visible line in his tiny world filled with chaos. His finger stopped in the middle of tracing the horizon at the fogged window when he heard the man speaking once more. “But you are familiar with their tactics and internal order. And you know about their security systems and military resources.” Omen sighed as quietly as possible but avoided turning his gaze once more. Instead he narrowed his eyes skeptically while staring out the window. That statement was just half the story and not quite true. “More or less.” He replied and tried his best to not sound annoyed by Cypher’s mere presence. Only because he had a feeling the man hadn’t entirely abandoned his plan of getting his attention and this unnecessary and useless briefing was just a very deceitful trick to get him engaged in conversation. “It’s false to assume that they haven’t made up arrangements since the last time I encountered them.” He continued to explain himself a bit more clear and knew he was about to make the great mistake of fueling this conversation anew. “That would indeed be pretty sloppy. Nonetheless you are my most reliable source in this matter.” He heard Cypher’s reply next to him crawling into his ear in a vaguely amused tone. That was definitely not the case for more than one reason, he thought to himself, but refused to voice his argument. He wasn’t the only one being familiar with Kingdom’s shady approaches. Omen knew at least that Brimstone had his one kind of little history with the company in the past. Killjoy on the other hand was the sheer reason why the most powerful and devastating farming tool in history even existed. There was no doubt that the Captain or the girl would have been by far a better so-called “reliable source” in this subject. If Cypher was truly in desperate need of some answers it would have been much wiser to trust into anyone else aside from him. However, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something bugged him about the wording of his comment on a personal level. Omen couldn’t pinpoint if this was just supposed to be a bad joke or a taunt. The man had a miserable talent of making everything that came out of his mouth sounding like subtle mockery. “We both know I am just here because I am the only one who’s able to sneak inside that hellhole without being noticed in seconds.” He finally settled for an answer; trying his best to keep a neutral tone. The whole situation didn’t bother him at all. He was used to being consulted for infiltrating missions. Despite everything else his condition came at least with some kind of advantages which were actually useful. He just felt that he was starting to get frustrated and he had to keep his personal distaste with Cypher’s attitude at bay in exchange to ensure this whole plan would lead to a success. He could feel the man shifting slightly beside him in his seat. “Oh? You really believe it’s just that?” He heard him say in a voice that sounded like sincere surprise. That caught him off guard enough to raise his confusion to a quite unbearable measure. “What do you mean?” There was a long and stretched silence building up between them. Omen turned his gaze, just to observe that Cypher had decided that the pad between his hands was suddenly worth more attention than anything else. He watched his gloved hands dancing on the touchscreen for a while. Calm and elegant. When he was sure that he was not going to receive a satisfying answer or any answer at all, Omen allowed himself to let off an angry snort. “Whatever.” He muttered under his breath before turning his attention back to the window. * They landed at a secret outpost of Izu-Ōshima after their non-stop flight. The Agency had done well in the last few years to establish a wide network of connected bases around the world to guarantee operating off the grid of Kingdom’s possessive surveillance. Most of them were just decommissioned harvesting facilities of the corporation itself where Radiante mining turned out to be less lucrative and not as productive as planned; shutting them down and leaving the environment in it’s ruined state of slowly decaying was cheaper than optimizing their strategies and ecological sustainability had never been part of their grind for power. From the volcanic island itself it was still a two hours boat trip into the heart of Tokyo and it was totally off the table to land Killjoy’s brand new and precious baby just somewhere inside the metropolis. The sparsely inhabited place of the island provided the perfect cover for their upcoming intentions. Many residents had been displaced by Kingdom’s failed attempt of turning the island into a harvesting area. Killjoy put off her headphones and stretched with a loud yawn. She turned around in her seat and hopped out of it with a proud smile occupying her face. “I think I have enough data collected to go for some adjustments.” She informed them in a pleasingly announcing voice. Omen could feel how the man beside him tensed; for the breath of a second but violently intense. Then it was gone completely and it left him behind with the doubtful aftershock of ever existing at all or just being nothing more than an illusion of his own slowly crumbling mind. “What do you mean by that?” Cypher asked; polite but with a glimpse of emphasis crawling inside his voice. “Didn’t you say this thing was ready for a flight?” He raised from his position and Omen suddenly felt a weight lifting from his body as if he was finally able to breathe again. A frown formed on the girl’s forehead. “If you remember correctly I said it is as good as ready for a flight.” She explained with rising offense. “It still needs some improvements in the future.” Killjoy took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes with one of her hands. “But the autopilot is working just as I expected.” She added while she was fishing in the pockets for something specific. Cypher just stared at her wordlessly for a moment. It was hard to read his face covered behind his mask but it seemed to be safe enough to assume that her explanation was far away from being reassuring to his taste. “Are you going to tell me, you took the risk of potential danger just to run some tests?” He asked in obvious disbelief mixed with something what Omen identified as pure indignation. He felt the corner of his mouth treacherously twitching and he forced himself to press his lips together. He relaxed in the exact same moment, when it came back into his mind that no one could read his expression hidden behind fabric and shadows. “Natürlich nicht!” She insisted with a bit of offense in her voice. “I just need to check the engines.” Killjoy took a tissue out of her pockets and started to clean her glasses. In such a very relaxed manner that Omen had to admit that it was a bit impressive. He wondered if that was truly just the self-confidence of a genius or mere fickleness. Probably it was both according to how much time she recently spent with Raze. The girl narrowed her eyes to give her glasses a critical view before putting them back on. “You know, better safe than sorry.” She said with a mischievous grin forming on her lips as she tilted her head. “Keine Sorge. I would never dare to let us crash into the pacific ocean.” She insisted openly amused. If Omen had to guess, he would quickly come to the conclusion that she was probably the only one who thought her comment would be funny. There was a rather long silence and he couldn’t get rid of the bad feeling that Cypher was about to trip at any given moment. “How reckless.” He simply replied; fairly resentful, but surprisingly calm and patient. “Wie bitte?” Killjoy narrowed her eyes; her voice rising in tone. She let off a sigh of annoyance. “I told you it’s a prototype. It’s only logical that it still has some flaws. I wanna see you building something entirely from scratch and expect it to work immaculate on it’s first try.” She paused, decided for herself that she was done with any further explanations of her actions and met his gaze. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Omen raised a brow in surprise. He hadn’t expected to be involved in their slowly upcoming argument and he had no intention to do so. The idea of having to take a side made him uncomfortable. Even though he had a feeling that trying to dodge this whole matter at all was just going to offend both of them at the same level. He sighed in annoyance. For some so-called geniuses they started to handle this situation pretty immaturely. “Keep me out of this.” He answered before he was about to leave the jet. “Where do you think you are going?” Killjoy asked in a sharp tone. Omen stopped in his tracks, but refused to answer right away. “Looking for the hideout.” He finally settled for a reply. Even though that was just half the truth. When it appeared to him that his statement might not be clear enough, at least according to Killjoy’s puzzled look forming slowly on her face, he added: “Unless you have in mind to reactivate an old mining facility this close to Kingdom’s headquarters.” There was a chuckle from Cypher; soft but mocking. Dear god, this man’s mood swings were a little bit unnerving. “Now, how didn’t you come up with this brilliant idea?” “Ach halt die Klappe.” Killjoy snapped back with a look that she was ready to strangle him. * After they found the hideout, fortunately it wasn’t far away from their landing place, he excused himself with the pretence to scout the surrounding area. Technically it was not just a well-considered idea of himself to find some time to be alone for a while. After all, when it came to their preparations they hadn’t factored in the possibility that they would actually need someone for such a task and someone had to agree to do it anyway. Someone who was good at being unseen and was able to prevent attracting attention. Omen was just lucky enough to enjoy special skills in these things. He was glad about the fact that his offered favor to volunteer didn’t inflict any suspicion. Even though he had been a bit too eager in insisting on such a duty for his own taste. Maybe both Killjoy and Cypher were totally aware of his true intentions and simply decided against another unnecessary argument. And Omen was convinced he had been pretty clear that he was not willing to engage in their bickering and resentfulness. However, his rather self-serving plan quickly turned out to be unfounded. Their current location was fairly solitary, if not completely abandoned. He assumed that if there were still people living on the island, they would be found much closer to the shore. That Kingdom itself might notice their stay was not to be feared either. The past had already shown more than once pretty clear that they all too often tended to sweep across the globe like an all-devouring force and that they had no regard for what destruction they left behind on their way. Just like any powerful major corporation. As if that was an unwritten law of nature. For Kingdom, this spot on earth had become nothing more than a burned-out, useless wasteland without profit. Omen stopped in his tracks. Maybe he did indeed know quite a bit about their so-called tactics and internal order. He grit his teeth at the thought in spite. Not for the simple reason that he had a relatively understandable and personal aversion against their doings. The thought crept inside his head that Cypher had made an unsettling accurate assumption after all. And he hated the idea of this man spending more time inside his mind than he himself would dare to. Omen wouldn’t start to muse about his motives for such a preposterous endeavor once more. He already did that. And he had to admit that he didn’t like the answer because it told him more about himself than he actually wanted to know. That he was vulnerable; weak and that he was afraid of the possible outcome from all of this inconvenient effort and unwanted attention only to leave him hurt. Albeit, he found it highly astonishing and equally frustrating that all his efforts to make this thing inside his head disappear, only resulted in giving it a name. Avoidance had been no option. Ignorance had been no option either. Sooner or later he would see his alternatives gradually crumble before him. One after another. Piece by piece. Until there was no other choice left than the inevitable and most obvious. But until that time finally came up, he was still able to pick from an embarrassment of riches. Denial. Anger. He was good at being wrathful for he thought for a very long time that this had been the only emotion left inside him. Being filled with nothing but hatred and guided by blind rage had been so much easier. No worries. No consequences; shredding everyone in his way into pieces. Break them. Leave them for dead. Let them rot behind him. But do you really want to be like that again? The voice inside his head asked from somewhere far away. And he had no answer to that. * Sometimes it was hard for him to even look at Cypher. For many reasons; most of them he didn’t want to pay any kind of attention. The strangest of all was probably that he never got used to his face. No matter how often he watched him; secretly or not. There was always this subliminally irritating feeling that tickled oddly at the point in the centre of his ribcage. He could just take off his mask and his hat and looked like a completely normal human. Because he was a human, Omen reminded himself. He felt his lips pressing together and looked away to occupy himself with something else. “The area seems clear.” He announced as he brushed the feeling away that was about to reach him. Standing right there in the middle of the room made him feel more lost than he wanted. Cypher didn’t answer right away. He hesitated for a moment, without a single thought crossing his mind in particular, and decided to take a seat at the table. Omen was aware that he couldn't simply avoid the man’s company at all costs. He had tried and he had failed. More than once. He had to make the best out of it since they were trapped in this mission together. He had to play along. Be cooperative. Behave. He eyed the empty plate resting on the table to avoid looking at him. “Would you like something to eat?” Cypher suddenly asked. He frowned at the question in slight suspicion. “I am not hungry.” He answered briefly; his hand raising in a dismissive gesture. Omen saw how the man in front of him curled his lips in disapproval. Then he rose from his chair in a blink of an eye. It was such an unexpected and quick movement, that it had the power to catch him completely off guard. A second later, it dawned to him that he had actually flinched. Still puzzled, he observed how Cypher vanished for a moment. When he returned back again, he wordlessly passed him a plate and a fork with such a certain kind of effrontery that indicated he wouldn’t allow any contradiction coming from him. Omen simply obeyed. Quite defeated, he sat there in silence and accepted the plate without placing it aside right away. He didn’t want to come off as childish to stretch this argument even further. But he still rolled his eyes behind his hood in annoyance. Cypher offered him a satisfied smile. Warm. Almost tender. “Good boy.” Omen blinked; irritated. “Be quiet.” He muttered under his breath. Aside from the two of them he noticed the room was empty. And he hated himself for breaking with his own demand only a second later when he asked: “Where’s Killjoy?” He presented himself believing that he was just aiming for a change of topic of far more importance. Definitely not because it bothered him to waste his energy on musing over such a mundane comment which probably had no meaning at all aside from trying to tease him. “Hmmh. Make a guess.” He began and his voice rose in something Omen seemed to identify as softly lurking indignation. “After rambling and defending her unethical approach in risking our entire mission and our lives for a testrun, she excused herself to catch some rest.” He narrowed his eyes behind his hood in a critical manner. So the two definitely hadn’t settled their earlier argument. Omen could notice the man was still upset about it and in wise prudence, he decided to simply switch the topic before he risked the chance of igniting it anew. “You should do as well.” He tried; considering that not only the girl must be tired from such a long trip; normal people usually caught something that was called jet lag. Cypher raised a brow at him as if he had said something utterly ridiculous that wasn’t even worth expressing. “I still have plenty of work to do.” He explained in a very lenient manner that made Omen press his lips together. “What’s with you?” He blinked confused because this counterquestion felt so out of place, that he mused about the possibility if the man simply had forgotten for a moment who he was talking to. Then he shrugged without putting more thought than necessary into it. “You know I don’t get tired so easily.” Weariness was something that didn’t bother him any longer. At some point, it appeared to him. He didn’t need to rest to regain energy. But you definitely need sleep, he reminded himself. It sounded like a warning. It probably was. At this point he couldn’t even remember how long he had been awake since the last time. It boded nothing good. His voice ripped him out of his thoughts. “May you lend me a hand?” Omen fell silent. The last thing he wanted was to spend unnecessary time with this man. Then he remembered that he didn’t have anything to do instead which he could use as an excuse. “Sure.” He shrugged. In consideration of spending the rest of his day with boredom, Cypher’s offer seemed to be at least less frustrating. Not to mention that they were still on a mission and he didn’t want to be seen as unproductive. He recollected that he was still holding a fork and that he must look fairly dotty. So he gave in. Out of mere politeness and for the fact that his stock of excuses were coming to an end. Whatever was on that plate deserved at least some credit. He took a bite. And another. And soon he found himself being occupied with chewing because whatever that was, tasted delicious. And Omen realized two things at once. He had indeed been hungry. Very hungry. And he couldn’t pinpoint the last time he had actually eaten. From time to time he was just unable to notice the most mundane things. One of so many unpleasant side effects of being less human than he used to be, he thought with a tinge of bitterness. He pushed that useless touch of sentiment far away. “Not hungry, hm?” Cypher asked, obviously ribbing. Feeling strangely caught, he stopped and took his time to swallow. Hard. “It’s good.” He replied, strangely quiet but with sincerity. There was pretty much no reason left to come up with a lie and trying to aim for one was useless when he was already acting so blunt. “Thank you.” Omen failed to distinguish if his tone was filled with amusement or sincere appreciation. He forced a frustrated sigh back down his throat. Scratching the brim of his plate with the fork, he assumed that he would never get any clear answer at all if he didn’t consider simply making a step forward. He stopped his doing and forcefully placed the fork aside as he made the only logical conclusion. “You made this?” He asked. His glance was busy staring at his own hand. For a brief moment, he wondered how he must look; sitting there, covered in his hood and his face hidden while trying to complete such a plain task as eating. But he could still feel the smile he was given in exchange as Cypher decided to speak. “You sound surprised.” “I …” He began, but stopped right away as he realized he didn’t know what to answer. He wondered if he really had been sounding surprised. He brushed it off as nothing more than another subtle taunt coming from this man and let off an angry snort. “I just didn’t think you would be the type of guy who has a thing for cooking.” As he turned his gaze away to stare at the plate instead to distract himself. He thought it was the best reply he could come up with without risking being patently insulting. “Oh?” He heard Cypher’s voice, a nuance higher than usual and filled with curiosity. “And what type of guy do you think I am?” He turned his gaze once more to face the man and saw his assumption confirmed. Cypher looked really engaged in knowing about his thoughts. Omen couldn’t resist smiling. “A nerd.” He could see how Cypher was about to open his mouth for a demur. Then he closed it again without a word and just gave off a piqued sound. Still smiling in something that he thought was just mere triumph, Omen enjoyed the rest of his meal in sweet silence. * Cypher didn’t carry that much equipment when it came to missions; in case there was the small possibility to simply abort a task and leave everything behind. Omen knew he used that as an excuse to simply trick him into more conversation. And he hated himself for falling for such an obvious trap. “You have changed.” He finally spoke. There it was. Omen had speculated when the man would finally decide to break out of his false pretence to speak his mind. He had waited for it to happen. Surprisingly, Cypher had allowed himself plenty of time before doing so. “Changed.” He repeated and tried to let it sound like a question. “And how do you know?” He asked and realized a bit too late that he sounded quite mocking. After all, it was indeed kinda amusing how close to the truth he came with his statement. And yet still be so far away at the same time. However, Cypher was right. He had changed. But he wouldn’t go so far and admit anything of that out loud. Not to mention the fact that they were probably speaking of entirely different things. And Omen would rather suck on a power cable than to pour out his heart. He watched the man carefully as he met his gaze in silence. Cypher refused to speak right away as if he was about to weigh his words very delicately. “You have been nothing but hostile or rejecting towards me since we’re back from Switzerland. I simply want to know why.” He began; very calm and patient. To him, that sounded heavily like a reproval. It made him twist inside. Hard and with a tearing feeling of something getting ripped out of him. It was unpleasant and unbearable. He loathed every second of it. Pressing his lips together and taking a deep breath didn’t help. He didn’t understand what exactly he felt but with it rose the small and piercing need to protect himself. For he had every right to act the way he did. Omen grit his teeth as he felt anger forming in the depths of his stomach; intense and fierce. “You have been nothing but harassing me since then. So what?” He spat. He witnessed how Cypher opened his mouth for a response. Then deciding against it. He leaned back and fell silent for a few seconds. “Harassing?” He almost whispered. His voice filled with indignation and something else that Omen couldn’t figure out right away. It took him a moment before he finally realized it was plain hurt. Omen felt his heart drop. And with it his anger washed away as fast as it had approached; leaving him behind in cold water. Suddenly it dawned on him that he should at least apologize for his comment because it was unfair and rude, but he refused. Instead he tried to avoid the topic at all. “I think this is not the right time to talk about this.” They were in the middle of a mission after all. In his opinion, there was nothing that was so important to be discussed at such an inappropriate moment. “There is no such thing as a right time. You either talk or you don’t and we really need to talk.” Cypher stated; surprisingly firm and determined. He crossed his arms over the backrest of the chair. “You want to talk.” He started to negotiate. He didn’t like how Cypher came to the presumption that he was in the position to simply force him into this conversation. And that Omen, on the other hand, had no other choice than to behave and just accept it. “I for one have nothing to talk about.” There was a soft sound that he failed to define more precisely; it was inconspicuous and almost non-existing to the point that he was wondering if he really had heard it in the first place. He realized a bit too late that it was a sigh. He narrowed his eyes for he was unable to pinpoint if it was supposed to sound disappointed, angry or annoyed. Or maybe it was something entirely else. “May you at least tell me what I did wrong?” Cypher asked; with a tinge of something unknown in his voice. Something deep and rich. A bit desperate and afflicted. Omen fell silent for a while; already knowing that the longer he refused to answer this question the more unreliable his final response would be in the end. Emptiness ruled his head. What did he do wrong? He asked himself. There were so many incredible things he could reply to. His list was never ending. He hated the fact that the man seemed to expect something like appreciation or gratitude from simply saying one or two nice words to him. He hated that he didn’t respect his simple wish to just be left alone. He hated the way how every word coming from his mouth sounded like it always resonated with wicked mockery. He hated how he was afraid of every tiny bit of attention and interest. For people were never completely honest; always pursuing their own goals. They always wanted something in return. Results. Information. Secrets. And he found nothing, entirely nothing, about himself anyone would meet with sincerity. For he possessed nothing that he could give people; nothing of value. Not even his name. His list was long. Very long. But he had to face the fact that none of that was sufficient or justifiable enough to put it into words. He licked his lips; nervous and unhinged. “Nothing.” He finally said and he felt utterly defeated out of nowhere. It appeared to him that this wasn't just a lie or his miserable attempt to downplay the whole topic. Strictly speaking, this was indeed the mere truth. Cypher hadn’t done anything that would at any point justify his actions towards him. Omen simply had to admit that he had a problem with no one else than himself. And he was not honest enough to confess something like that openly. He didn’t even know what kind of problem he was about to deal with and he didn’t even know if he truly wanted to figure that out. The more he thought about it, the more he got the anxious feeling that it would be something he wasn’t able to handle; something devastating and crushing. The only thing Cypher had actually done was being the cause for all of this. But that hadn’t been his question and therefore Omen wouldn’t tell him. When he didn’t reply anything to his remark, Omen took that as a sign that he actually managed to dodge this topic successfully. He was about to rise from his chair, when he got interrupted by his voice. “Sit back down. We are not done yet.” The tone of his voice was firm enough to make him freeze in his movement. Omen considered his options. “What else do you want?” He intended to snap back and was surprised how timid his own voice sounded instead. As if something deep inside him told him that it was probably not a very wise idea to provoke the man’s patience any further. Like he already hit some kind of limit and his instinct was about to prevent him from crossing an undefined border. The man narrowed his eyes for a brief moment like he had asked something very unintelligible. “I still have to teach you how to configure a NAT so you are able to delete the list of connections from Kingdom’s server.” Omen was unable to do anything else but simply blink. Cypher had said that in a kind of manner that implied it was the most mundane thing in the world. Yet, he didn’t understand a single word of what he was actually talking about. “What?” He heard himself saying blankly. Cypher’s lips curled up into a smile; a mixture of mischief and amusement. “Make yourself comfortable.” He said. “This will take a while.” * Killjoy narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “And you really know what to do?” She asked once more. Omen came to the conclusion that she was either worried or didn’t trust his level of competence. He didn’t blame her no matter the reason. Things like that were usually not a part of his common work and his knowledge about technical stuff was pretty limited. He was good at infiltrating. He was good at being silent. He was good at killing. But after the second time, she expressed her concern, Omen started to feel his frustration rising to an unbearable point. How difficult could it be to just plug in a thumb drive that she had to turn the entire process into higher science? He sighed. “Teleport in, find the main server, insert virus, delete list of connections manually, teleport out.” He replied while placing the device in one of his pockets. It sounded easy; aside from the part with the list of connections. He totally had no clue what that was supposed to mean and Cypher’s very complicated explanation hadn’t been very helpful. In the end, he saw no other way but to assure he finally got it; only to spare him another hour of talking, but mostly for the reason that he didn’t want to be seen as completely lost. He simply decided for himself that he would figure out this detail once he was there. Somehow. “Did I forget something?” He asked and tried his best to not come off as resentful. “Nothing at all.” Cypher answered from his position without taking his time to look up. The way in which he said that, didn’t fail to utterly confuse him. It was like someone was pouring warm water over him; steady and gentle. And he tried, even though it wasn’t unpleasant, to shake it off forcefully. Killjoy blinked at him in a manner like he had lost his mind. Her face twisted from indignation to bafflement to annoyance in seconds. It was equally impressive. And only just a little bit … scary for his own taste. “What do you mean you are going to teleport?” She demanded to know in a firm tone. “Why didn’t you do that in the first place? Why didn’t you tell us?” She continued, her voice filled with something of what he thought to be nervousness. “I can’t teleport that far, Joy.” He explained. “And I told you. You were just busy being distracted with telling everyone about your new invention.” He added in his best neutral tone he could provide right now. She stared at them for a few seconds without saying a single word. Then she shrugged plainly. “Tja, nun.” She said bluntly like she tried to cover her own embarrassment with sober acceptance. “Are you ready?” Cypher asked; this time turning around to meet his eyes. Omen couldn’t shake off the assumption, he didn’t just do it only to simply get done but also to prevent the girl from starting another argument. “Do you have any questions left?” Omen fell silent to come up with something that was important enough to be voiced and didn’t make him sound like an idiot. Then he settled for the fact that in a room filled with two geniuses everyone would feel like an idiot. In that case it didn’t matter. “How long will it take to upload that thing?” He asked reserved. Cypher didn’t seem to mind his question at all. Instead he curled his lips into a soft smile before turning back to his screen. “If everything is going according to plan …” He paused as he was about to give it a quick thought. ”Forty-five seconds.” Omen blinked in astonishment. “That’s amazing.” He said. A moment later, he realized that he had fallen for the first thing that popped up inside his mind and felt like he was trapped in a slightly unknown, but swallowing feeling of discomfort; leisurely crawling up his neck. Hot. “Echt jetzt?” Killjoy started with amusement. “You think this is impressive? Come on, everyone can program a virus. It’s-” “Alright.” He cut in before she had a chance to finish whatever she was going to say that was able to make him feel even more uncomfortable than he already did. “I’ll leave now.” The girl offered him a smile as if nothing ever happened. “Viel Glück.” Cypher sighed; thin and quiet. “Be careful.” The way he said that was confusing. He couldn’t define what exactly it was for he was not quite the best when it came to unravel this man’s intentions. It sounded off and out of place. As if there was some kind of real concern lingering behind those words. Something deeper than just the obvious worry. Something more intimate. Omen decided that this wasn't the right time or moment to think about something like that. And then he decided strictly that there was never going to be a moment worth thinking about such a thing at all. It was meaningless. He closed his eyes and fell into white emptiness … * When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by darkness. There was a steady whirring noise lingering in the air; coming from a certain point and from everywhere at the same time. He blinked a few times to take in his surroundings and hopefully to pinpoint where he happened to be right now. That guy whose cell phone had been spied on by Cypher for weeks had been careless enough to provide enough information to draw a rough map inside his head. In theory, he knew exactly where he had to go. In reality, playing with the void was always a fickle thing. He found himself being transported on the same floor as the server room. Not inside. Close enough. The hallway seemed empty; almost abandoned. Except for the auxiliary lightning bathing the place in fluorescent light, it was completely dark. He noticed there was just one security camera at the entrance of the floor which he had fortunately avoided by mere coincidence. Firstly, he thought that was kinda odd. Then he remembered that normally there shouldn’t be anyone around this part of the building for the most part. At least not without anyone already being informed beforehand. Omen watched the constant blinking of the red dot carefully, before leaving the watchful eye of the camera behind. To his surprise he didn’t find the door to the server room being locked which awoke his suspicion. He hesitated for a moment. It was possible that there was no reason to lock the door according to the simple fact that usually no ordinary person was actually able to reach this area without being authorized or even noticed. And he was indeed pretty far from being ordinary. He entered the room and closed the door behind him. Just in case. Being around here made him nervous; he wouldn’t deny it. Even down below the actual building he couldn’t prevent himself from this grisly nagging feeling of ... familiarity. Loose fragments of his past trying to convince him it felt all the same. The same sterile walls. Doors that lead to nowhere. A hell made of steel and concrete. Feeling trapped. Hidden. Isolated. Locked away. Caged. Omen took a deep breath. He felt his heart beating inside the remains of his flesh; loud and clear. Like it was echoing inside his ears. He tried to ignore whatever feeling was about to bother him at the moment for he had no time for this. He needed to find the air gap quickly and leave as soon as he was done. At least there was a bit more light coming from various sources. It was enough to lead his way through the massive cabinets. Finding the air gap wasted a great amount of his time. Obviously, since he couldn’t locate its position inside such a large and tenuous illuminated room straight away. He turned the laptop on and patiently watched it booting. Staring at the monitor, he narrowed his eyes. A password. He had none. No one told him about inserting a password. He weighed his options for a few seconds before he came to the conclusion to take a shot at it. Maybe the thing Cypher had programmed was also clever enough to elude a password prompt. He sighed heavily; fishing for the flash drive inside his pockets and plugged it into the port. The rest was, to his surprise, fairly unspectacular. He had expected the process would be a bit less boring. But aside from numbers and letters occasionally passing the screen it was rather unimposing. He watched and waited; silently. Observing the screen made his head spin. He blinked the feeling forcefully away. These felt like the longest seconds of his life. And when the input field finally appeared to tell him what to do next, he almost tensed. He inhaled deeply, leaned closer and tried to remind himself of how to delete that damn list. Omen stared blankly at the cursor. He felt an overbearing pressure forming inside his chest with every passing second. Aiming for the attempt to concentrate himself, filled his empty head with nothing else but throbbing pain. He felt dizzy and tried to force it away. Something was terribly wrong. Very slowly he caught the thought inside his head that his entrance must have triggered … something. Somehow. He should leave; the room itself was not safe any longer. The air burned inside his lungs like he was inhaling pure fire, slowly devouring him from the inside. He suppressed the rising urge to cough; the want to do so painfully scratched at the back of his throat, but he pushed himself to focus. He wasn’t done yet. Calm down, he heard his own voice yelling inside his mind from far away. He knew he didn’t forget what he had to do. It was still there; buried deep under his panic and out of reach for him to grasp it. Omen swallowed down another impulse of coughing. He pressed his lips together, trying to avoid breathing as much as possible and started to type. The commands he needed were just somewhere inside his head. He just had to find them and pull them to the surface. Enable. Think. Configure terminal. Faster. Interface … He shook from coughing. His vision started to get blurry at the edges. Come on. Exit. There was a wheezing sound. It was raspy and tearing; slowly approaching like it was coming from far away. Why didn’t you listen? He gasped for air. It was so painful and overwhelming. He felt like he was brutally ripping into shreds. Exit. There it was again. That awful noise. A wet groaning of someone getting choked. Of someone slowly dying. He realized it was coming from him. Omen closed his eyes as darkness carried him away … “Can’t breath.” He heard his own voice from very far away; melting with muffled sounds somewhere in the distance. “Toxin.” He sensed sudden movement. A wave of attention and turmoil rushed towards him. Like a dreadful and dire force surrounding him; crushing him down. Hands all over him. Don’t touch me. He wanted to scream. Don’t ... He fell. Deep. * Omen woke to light falling on his face. He wanted to close his eyes to shield himself from it. It was too bright. He was too tired. Moments passed before it slowly seeped into his mind that his eyes were already closed. His entire existence was a constant, aching pain. He tried to fight against the heavy, livid force raging through his body; tried to move and realized that no matter how hard he tried, there was no escape. Something prevented him from doing so. Something was pressing him down. Restrained and fixated. Trapped. Caged. He was not dead. Death was different. He could still hear his heart beating. Loud and clear. As if it was trying to burst out of his chest to flee. Somewhere else. A safe place. Far away from here. He had already gone through this. It was familiar to him. He could remember it. The smell of plastic and disinfectant. The glaring, cold light of fluorescent lamps. The monotonous, steady sound of medical equipment. Needles under the skin. Syringes. Tubes. And the suffocating feeling of being nothing more than a guest inside his own body. He was not dead. But he wished he was. He heard whispering. Somewhere far away people were talking. Faint and distant. “Why can’t you just …?” A voice. Soft and warm. Like sunshine on a summer day. Soothing. Tender. He listened closely but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t understand them. “My power will destroy …” Another voice. Cold. Calm. Like clear water. Words were meaningless. They made no sense. He wanted to say something; let them know that he was awake and very much alive. He wanted to scream; he wanted to rampage. Against the nascent panic nestled in his chest, which was the only constant he could feel aside from the pain. But he couldn't even open his mouth. And it took him an infinite amount of time to realize that he wasn't just too tired to do so. Something was blocking his throat. A foreign object that he could feel reaching right deep inside his stomach, if he controlled his thoughts exclusively on it. The voices ebbed away until there was nothing but silence. He heard a door. Opening. Closing. Then it was dark yet again. He drifted back to sleep. * When he opened his eyes it was like rising from a very long dream. A restless sleep that left him behind more exhausted than before. The kind that started with throbbing pain behind his lids; feeling far more tired than ever. He took a deep breath; heavy and crushing. As if instead of a heart someone had put a stone inside of him. At least he no longer had a tube plugged inside his body down to the roots of his lungs. Sage must have taken care of that. When? Yesterday? Was he awake when she did it? When has she been here? And how? Where was he? How many time had passed and-- Stop. He squinted hard to stop his thoughts from spinning aimlessly. His last few days felt like they never happened. They were just vague shreds of cloudy moments. So faint and surreal that he could have just simply imagined them. In the end it didn’t matter. Omen decided it was probably better for his own sake if he allowed himself to accept that some events had passed him without his notice. He blinked a few times to take in his surroundings. His eyes tearing from the brightness illuminating the room. It took him a while to get used to it. He could swear Cypher was sitting there. Next to the window. Patient and simply staring at him. His features soft from the light falling onto his face like he was the sun itself. Distant and out of reach. Omen felt like he was melting under his piercing gaze. Hot and burning. Like someone had set him on fire. A touch alone would be enough to turn him into cold ashes … He turned his gaze away when he indeed felt sunshine hit his skin; bare and unprotected and burning his cheeks from the warmth. Omen froze. His heart skipped a beat. He fiddled quickly with the hem of his hood to block out the view. A small sigh escaped his lips; recognizing he was still wearing his cape. “Good morning.” Omen tensed. In a blink of an eye he was fully aware of two things at the same time. He was indeed wide awake and not trapped inside another daydream caused by his physical fatigue and whatever critical state he had been through. He was alive and this was real. And Cypher was here. He was not just an imagination of his cloudy and hazy mind. Slowly he dared to peek under the brim of the fabric to assure himself that his conclusion wasn’t true. “Did you sleep well?” Omen blinked slowly while collecting his thoughts. It took him a moment before it appeared to him that he had actually just woken up and the fact that Cypher was already here crawled sluggishly into his mind. He narrowed his eyes. “Did you watch me sleeping?” He asked and realized a bit too late that he sounded more puzzled than deeply concerned. Cypher tilted his head slightly. “I waited.” He simply replied. Omen put on a record that this was not reassuring. The image inside his head which was about to form was quite … unsettling. “I didn’t want to wake you up.” Dear god, the man was good at turning something so inconvenient into mere logic. “Creep.” He responded quietly before looking away. From the corner of his eyes he could witness how Cypher’s eyes widened for a second. It was a slightly odd movement. A bit unnatural and uncanny due to his prosthetics. Then he just rose from his chair to approach him. Only to place a cup next to him without another word. Omen eyed the cup on the bedside table in suspicion. Then he realized that he hadn’t anything inside his stomach for what must have been days. And the smell of coffee convinced him to give it a try. It would be nice to have something flowing inside his system aside from tranquilizers and what else Sage had given him since she couldn’t just do her magic tricks on him. He took a sip. Only to twist his lips at the taste. He swallowed unwillingly to prevent himself from spitting the liquid back into the cup. “Ew. What’s that?” He asked while wiping the corner of his mouth with his sleeve to get rid of the remains. Cypher raised a brow; completely puzzled. “The last time I checked it was coffee.” Omen opened the lid of the cup to peek inside. He wrinkled his nose in disgust to see his point being proven. “Coffee is supposed to be drinken black.” He explained in a sullen tone and placed the cup fulsomely wide away from him to underline his statement clearly. He watched the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “Just like your soul?” Cypher asked with amusement. He narrowed his eyes at the question and took his time to respond. Uncertain of what that was supposed to mean aside from being just another snarky remark towards his personality, Omen decided to ignore it completely to save him time and energy. Instead he simply let off a frustrated sigh and asked: “What do you want here?” He tried to approach the real reason behind this unexpected and unwanted meeting, but he already had an unsatisfying feeling of exactly knowing that it won’t lead to anything. “Aside from trying to poison me.” He added, pointing at the cup laxly. The look that appeared on the man’s face seemed far away from being amused about his joke. “Looking how you're doing.” Cypher replied. And if he was actually indignant about the comment, he simply decided to meet it with ignorance. Omen felt the reflex of crossing his arms; he stopped the moment when he got aware of the forgein object stuck inside the crook of his arm. “I am fine. Thanks.” He assured brusque. “Sage didn’t allow me to pay you a visit.” He went for an explanation as if Omen had actually asked for his excuses. “I just wanted to make sure you are okay.” Omen sighed. He didn’t feel good enough to have this kind of conversation right now. A small voice inside his head reminded him immediately that he never felt right when a conversation was about to follow this path. He wanted to spit in his face that the only reason why Sage didn’t allow something like that was because he had told her not to do so, but that was neither the truth nor fair. He was tired; plain and simple. Less physically but rather emotional. Still, even right now he was able to realize that his own frustration and discomfort was not going to be satisfied only because he decided to be cruel to someone else. Maybe it would ease his miserable feeling for a while. Maybe it would help him to hide his current weakness because what else was left of him than the paltry remains of his pride. But deep down he knew very well that in exchange for getting his peace, he would have to deal with the certainty to put off probably the only person who was stupid enough to waste his time on him. Omen tried to be patient, as best as he could given his current condition. “As you can see for yourself I am … okay.” He insisted calmly. “May you leave me alone now?” He tried at least; already feeling that it was basically a useless demand at this point. There was silence for a while. From his position he could watch how the man struggled with something of his own. His piercing blue eyes filled with sadness. It appeared to him that Cypher seemed not to be good at hiding his emotions well enough. Maybe that was one of the reasons he wore a mask. Omen was no longer human. He tried to hide being a monster. Maybe Cypher wanted to be one. “I am sorry.” He finally managed to speak. Omen frowned, confused. For a moment he thought that was just a mere announcement indicating Cypher was going to excuse himself. When he didn’t leave, it dawned on him that his comment meant something entirely different. And this conclusion irritated him even more. “What?” He asked, quite unsure if he really wanted to know the real reason. “It is my fault this happened to you.” And Omen bit his lip. There it was. The conversation he really didn't want to deal with. Running out of ideas to dodge the matter, he tried to play it off. “It’s not a big deal.” Technically, that wasn’t even a lie to provide false reassurance. Aside from feeling terrible, he was indeed still alive. And even if he wouldn’t be at this point, what would it matter? “I was careless. I didn’t pay enough attention. And I risked your life.” Cypher went on like he wasn’t listening to anything he had said and it came to his mind that he did that a lot. Not listening. To his wishes and demands; disrespecting his requests for isolation. For not being engaged in conversations. For not being asked nosy questions. Omen fought down the urge to rip the needle out of his arm as it was about to begin irritating his skin; itching under the layers of bandages, deep inside his flesh. “So what?” He replied, deciding for a rather casual tone instead of sounding snarky. This made no sense. They all risked their lives on a daily basis. The difference was that his own barely mattered. “You made a mistake. We all do. Happens.” He added with a shrug; trying to be reassuring. He would not allow the man to feel worse than he did. That was not fair. And aside from that, he couldn’t stand his gloomy face; full of wasted regret and internal blame wasted on him. “Omen.” He hated how Cypher called his name like it was actually a part of him. “You could have been dead.” The seriousness in his voice was unsetting. The way in which Cypher said that sounded so pitifully final and Omen had to admit that he understood this only to a certain extent. Death had lost its meaning to him. Albeit a very obstructive and sometimes quite annoying condition, it turned out to be nothing more than purely temporary. Completely insignificant and without any kind of heaviness or consequences. It was not the ultimate ending. To him, it contained neither pain nor loss. And maybe only because of this, it arose the urgent need inside of him to eradicate this misapprehension. For he was probably most of the time rather rude and bitter, but he dared not to be irreverent. Being the centre of an unfounded worry felt unbearable and grueling; only wasting the appreciation and sympathy of others towards him needlessly. Omen sighed; tired and weak. “You may have forgotten that I just come back every time I die.” He stated resolute yet surprisingly lenient. In the end, he knew it was just cruel and coldhearted to toy with the worries and concerns of others. “You may have forgotten that people are allowed to worry about you nonetheless.” “Why would you worry about me?” He asked, firm and relentless. And with a subtle warning; scratching at the edges of his voice that it was unnecessary to mention that this time he demanded a clear and honest answer. The man took his time to reply. It led him to the conclusion that he was about to come up with something that was typical for him as a response. Something of which Omen was unable to comprehend because it was too devious. Too obscure. Normally, he would feel his anger approaching at the thought of this possibility, but right now he felt not well enough to provide enough energy for rage. “I care about you.” Cypher finally answered. Omen felt something that was about to drill inside the core of his body. Something he didn’t recognize for he knew he never had felt it before. Or something he simply couldn’t remember and was unable to dig from experience alone. Like a sting. Hot a and deep. Burning at the edges. As if he was nothing but paper and he was about to catch fire. It was far from anger and yet very close to it. But it lacked the blazing passion of destruction; it was neither fierce nor devastating. Instead it came with bitterness. And where it raged it left nothing but cold emptiness. “You don’t even know me.” He finally said after taking a deep breath. In hopes, it would be able to refill the hole that had been ripped wide open inside him. “Only because you don’t give me a chance.” Omen heard him saying because he tried his best to avoid his gaze. There was something inside his voice; he could sense it. Soft and clear; it made him feel heavy and unbearable powerless. He hated every second of it. He realized that this was the truth. But he was not sincere enough to admit it openly. “Will you just …” Stop, he wanted to say. Instead he said nothing for a while. None of this made actual sense to him. He didn’t know if he just wanted to believe this was the truth or if he was just unable to put some more thought into it right now in his current state. Omen closed his eyes. “Just go. I need to rest.” He finished, unable for anything else. And it wasn’t a lie for he really felt more exhausted and drained than he had ever before. He wanted to drift away; back into that dreamless state. At least for a while. Without any kinds of thoughts bothering him. No feelings. Nothing. And therefore he closed his eyes. He could hear the man rise from his chair. His footsteps echoed through the room; purposeful, but controlled slowly. There was a sigh coming from him while doing so. Omen didn't know what it was supposed to mean, but he had a feeling that it sounded far away from being tired and more like being ... sad. A second later he realized that was biting his lip. “Wait.” He said and opened an eye to glance at the man. Omen hesitated for a moment. Then he brushed the thought aside and said something entirely else instead. “You forgot to take your coffee with you.” * When Killjoy paid him a visit, he toyed with the question if his current condition would allow him to murder someone in cold blood. Fortunately, she had not much time for expressions of condolences, which drained his rising anger as quickly as it appeared the moment she entered the room. Omen was thankful for the fact that he girl tended to be far more informative. She had a thing for talking more about facts than feelings; practical-minded and focused. And as she kept talking, he slowly came to the conclusion that maybe this was her own way to show some kind of sympathy. “If I have to make a guess I would say that the guy didn’t even know about the silent alarm himself. That’s the reason why Cypher didn’t find any information about it on his phone.” She ended her explanation, followed by a deep sigh. “Ernsthaft, what did he tell you when he was here?” Omen stared at the glass next to him. Killjoy had brought him something that she called Schorle; a mixture of carbonated water and some kind of fruit juice, which was by far worse than white coffee. And for a tiny moment he wished he still had that cup resting at his bedside table. Only as an excuse to avoid her offer. But she also had brought him a book which made up for her terrible taste at least a bit. When he finally turned his gaze to look at her, he blinked, irritated. “You know he was here?” Killjoy blinked in return. “Was that supposed to be some kind of secret?” She asked as she narrowed her eyes. Omen refused to answer. Then he simply decided to shrug. He didn’t even know what he had in mind when he asked her that question. The possibility was high that he had already forgotten what he was truly aiming for since he was filled to the brim with anodyne. “Dein Freund ist ziemlich miserabel, if he doesn’t even know how you drink your coffee.” She finally stated with a smile. “Even I know that, and we barely talk.” It was impossible to ignore the tinge of pride inside her voice. He didn’t completely understand the first part of what Killjoy had said. But his German was indeed good enough to identify the word “friend” coming from her. He avoided rolling his eyes until it might hurt with the rising need to correct her, but refused because he was sure that it was a futile endeavor. At the moment he was far away from having the mental strength to establish a debate with one of the most intelligent people he knew. A fight he would definitely lose. Then a conclusion popped up inside his head. It was so obvious that he cursed himself for not getting the hint much earlier. “You told him to do that, didn’t you?” He asked. “The coffee, I mean.” He added for he feared to be not quite specific enough with his statement. “Me?” He watched her tilting her head in a playful manner. “Nicht doch! I would never do something so cruel.” She tried to insist but the high-pitched tone of her voice trying to be a bit too offended by such an assumption, betrayed her. He wanted to rub the bridge of his nose as he felt a throbbing pain forming behind his forehead. “What have I done to deserve this?” He simply asked frustrated instead of being angry at her. He realized he was way too tired to collect enough strength for being spiteful. She placed her hands on her hips in a highly resentful manner. “You almost died on me, du Früchtchen.” Her voice sounded like she was about to explain the easiest things in life and was astonished about his lack of comprehension. Then her lips curled up into a smile, Omen could only describe as mischievous. To tell the truth, the fact that Killjoy would consider plotting shenanigans in the future against him, was a bit unsettling. “Take it as a warning for the next time. Or I tell him you like your coffee with sugar.” For a moment, the urge to tell her crossed his mind, that Cypher actually already knew how he would prefer his coffee. Then he decided that he would rather not share this kind of information with her. He had a feeling that Killjoy would never leave him any time soon, if he dared to do so. * Two days later he insisted on being released from the medbay or otherwise he would probably go completely insane. It was one thing to accept that he was in a more or less weak state; it was another to be treated like that. Sage had been not pleased with his decision, but in the end she realized that she had no other choice unless she would go so far and force him. Something she would never do. Instead she showered him in painkillers and various kinds of meds. Omen admitted that he was still not well. That’s what he got for obtaining an unstable existence that reacts to Radiante. He just can’t have nice things. And so the only alternative left was dealing with problems the ordinary way. Lots of sleep, taking pills like candies. His lungs hurt like he was breathing glass. The pain grinded him into an erratic mess of hatred; cursing himself. Then cursing everyone else. They should have left him choking on his own blood and let him die on the ground in peace. It would have been much easier. He would just start from scratch; he was used to that. What they did instead was far worse. They had saved him. And then left him behind to deal with the aftershock of such an altruistic gesture on his own. Even though that wasn’t quite fair, he had to admit. He would rather strangle himself in his room before he had to seek out someone else to ask for … whatever. He wanted to deal with his problems on his own. He wanted to be alone. Sadly, cruel destiny decided to remind him once more that he couldn’t solve every issue on his own. He watched helplessly as his laptop made its last, dying sounds, before saying goodbye once and for all with a bluescreen. He paused for a moment; calmed down while toying with the idea of throwing the thing against the next wall. Then he reminded himself that he possessed enough maturity to not break things in pure anger. Omen chewed at the inside of his cheek as he pondered over his remaining options. He couldn’t ask Killjoy. Again. The last time he did, he waited an entire month for it to be repaired. Only to get faced with the fact that she had simply forgotten about it. The girl was the epitome of abstraction. But he needed that thing. Not only for his own entertainment and the only distraction he had left in his current state. He also had to write Brimstone a report of their mission since he was not good with handling meetings and recollecting things from the past in general in front of others. The Captain would indeed forgive him if he didn’t deliver anything at all considering that now he would have an actual excuse aside from the fact that he barely escaped death’s grip. But his pride and stubbornness would forbid him to be viewed as a total failure; someone who was unable to complete the most simple tasks; someone who was not able to take responsibility. Or even simpler; someone who wasn’t even able to handle the pitiful rest of his remaining life. Omen sighed. Heavy. You must be completely stupid. He heard his own voice yelling at him. Or maybe he was just that desperate. Or both. He watched the digital clock on his bedside table until it hit an appropriate hour to spend someone a morning visit. * Even after waiting for the right time to arrive, it was still pretty early in the morning. He told himself that this was the only reason why he was just standing in front of the door and couldn’t bring himself to knock. He wondered if perhaps he should turn around and come back at a more opportune moment. His prudence advised him to dismiss his hasty and little thought-out idea at all. He was suddenly drowned in the discontent of his plan to be a rather stupid idea. But he was already here now and it was not in his nature to run away from his own decisions. Omen was not a coward. He would not start to flee from trifles and possible arguments. Aside from that, disappearing silently and completely unnoticed was rather impossible at this point anyway. It echoed in the hallways of the building. His footsteps had certainly been heard from afar anyway. He had enough of his irresolution. It made him feel foolish. It frustrated him for he never had to face something similar before and worried that he was unable to do anything else about it than to helplessly watch himself … change. Most of all, it filled him with anger because he didn’t understand where this doubting feeling came from that always seemed to tug at him whenever he was about to deal with this man. Omen knocked. Then he waited. For a moment he heard nothing. He felt terribly stupid and also a little bit immature since he had made a big and unnecessary affair out of all of this, only to end in smoke all by itself. It was foolish. Most of all, it was scary. For he didn’t recognize himself any longer. Usually, he wasn’t like this. He was about to leave, ticking this as a rather peculiar and less enriching experience than anything else, when he finally did hear some movement behind the door. Omen waited. And he realized that he wasn’t a very patient man. When the door finally opened, he almost jumped. Only for a brief moment. It was that familiar feeling of knowing something was going to happen even before it did, but not knowing when it would occur which grinded on him. Omen stared point-blank at Cypher. Unable to say anything. His head was empty. He just stared at him. Cypher simply stared back. Whether it was astonishment or surprise, he couldn't say exactly. At least, he thought, it was satisfying that this encounter was obviously unexpected for both of them. “Would you …” Omen slowly began to break the awkward silence. “Would you do me a favor?” In response, Cypher blinked. “Good morning to you as well.” He said with a certain emphasis. Omen was about to tense at the upcoming feeling that he had been rude. Then he recognized how his face quickly brightened up in a way that suggested he was either politely ignoring his behavior or not taking it too much to heart. Wordlessly, Cypher disappeared back into the room and he took that as a more or less clear sign to follow him. He hesitated for a moment. The awareness crawled deep inside him that he never had been here before and he strangely felt like he shouldn't. For reasons unknown that didn't feel right. He had never been anything else than an uninvited guest. The idea to be wanted and included. The idea of being wanted and included appeared so out of place to him. He brushed his thoughts aggressively away and decided it was for his own good, if he didn’t keep Cypher waiting. The tidiness of the room reminded him that he was in a desperate state of cleaning up his own. Or at least getting rid of the used dishes before someone would be smart enough to assume of him being the one who was responsible for their constant vanishing. He watched him carefully as he took his place back in front of his desk. Omen tried his best to keep his patience. He didn't want to be pushy, because he was already bothering the man so early in the morning. But he was confronted with the fact that it was extremely difficult for him to conform to someone else's customs. He had to admit that this whole situation made him very uncomfortable. And he also had to come to terms with himself that it was difficult for him to actually remember how to face other people without initiation. This conclusion hit him heavily. It was a strangling and squashing feeling; nestling in his throat. And for the first time, Omen actually wanted to run away from something. Omen took a deep breath. He suppressed the urge to cough until his mouth escaped nothing more than a croaky sound. Playing with the thought, if he should say something to indicate his aversion led him quickly to the conclusion that it would be highly impolite. He wanted something from this man after all. Being rude to him would achieve the entire opposite of his endeavor. Secretly, he also didn’t want to admit that he was far away from being well at the moment. Even though the smoke was marching through his lungs like wildfire. He could recognize the look Cypher gave him in return. A whole maelstrom of feelings, Omen wasn’t able to identify. Regret was one of them. And as he felt his resentment slowly stirring inside him, he chose to look at his hands instead of his face. “Sorry.” He said while grinding out the cigarette into the ashtray on the desk hastily. “You really should stop doing that.” Omen heard himself saying without even thinking as he allowed himself a closer look. Then he knitted his brows as he got aware of the fact that his statement could be mistaken for a rather pleading request. “It’s unhealthy.” He added with a far more sober tone than before. And it doesn’t look good on you. The thought crossed his mind. He forcefully pushed it away into the depth before it had a chance to gnaw at him. Cypher played with his lighter. His face beamed with this kinda mysterious smile, Omen observed on him way before. A bit dreamy and reminiscing. When he became aware of the fact that he was being watched, he cleared his throat. “Now … What can I do for you?” He asked as if nothing ever happened. Omen avoided sighing in regret of his life choices. “I was just wondering if you might be able to fix my laptop.” He explained while underlining his statement by revealing the device for a better look. Briefly, the man looked at him as if to ask if he was serious. “Most likely.” He said instead; highly sarcastic and made a hand gesture indicating that he should pass him the thing. Omen avoided the urge to roll his eyes at the comment. Instead he simply followed the gesture and handed him the laptop. He took his time to observe how the man turned it between his hands with a look that was either filled with concentration or fascination. To simplify things, he would assume it was probably both. “Do you have anything saved you need to keep?” Cypher asked after a while as it seemed he was done admiring the thing in his hands. Just at that moment, Omen realized that his look probably resulted from wondering if it would be a great idea to make a taunting remark about the age of the device. “No.” He answered instead, grudgingly. To not be tempted to make a snarky comment on his part, he turned his attention to the screen on the desk. In the corner of his eyes he saw how Cypher narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “Are you sure?” He asked and made no secret of voicing his suspicion. There was something about his question that confused Omen; in a particular uncomfortable way. “Do you really think I would keep something important on my laptop when I share a roof with two people who are able to hack into my stuff?” He decided to ask in return to avoid the rising topic that was about to approach. His response brought up a smile. “Good point.” Cypher said; a bit too gleeful in comparison to the early morning. Then he placed the laptop aside. “But it would be needless to hack into your stuff. You don’t even use a password.” A mixture of amusement and disappointment inside his voice. “How--?” Omen began, but stopped immediately. How are you able to know this? He was going to ask, but refused the second it came to his mind that he would not get a clear answer. And furthermore, he really didn’t want to actually know. It was quite obvious what that statement was supposed to mean. And he could not get past the fact that it filled him with unease. “How long will this take?” He decided to ask instead for that was of far more greater importance to him right now. “That depends on what’s actually broken.” Cypher started to explain without hesitation. “Software issue? A virus? Twenty minutes at best. Hardware issue and I need to order replacements? Probably a week. But ...” And he stopped to raise a finger before he decided to continue. “My service comes with a price.” He watched as his lips curled into a very suggestive smile after telling that. One, Omen didn’t like at all. It felt highly fishy, but he intended to not show his disapproval. “How much?” He asked; playfully unimpressed. Already knowing that it didn’t matter how much the sum would be. He was completely broke. “In your case …” Cypher began like he was about to calculate and needed some time to think. “A talk.” He finally stated. He tried to cover his rising anger with the appeasement that maybe Cypher knew very well that he could not pay him under any circumstances. Still, he felt deluded in a very strange way. He should have expected that the man would not miss any chance to engage him into a conversation. “Fine.” He responded and couldn’t prevent grinding his teeth with lingering reluctance. His decision earned at least a relatively surprised look. Apparently, the man seemed like he had probably not speculated on his unresisting consent. He decided that this should be gratification enough for him. For now. His remaining options were rapidly dwindling, after all. Apart from that, he had the hope that, whatever Cypher so urgently needed to discuss, could now be put to rest once and for all. And if a conversation was all he asked for in payment, Omen reconciled himself to the thought of solving two unpleasant problems in one fell swoop. “Would you like some tea?” Then he asked out of the blue. Omen turned his gaze from the screen to look at him. “Tea.” He repeated unenthused. “Well... '' Cypher started with a mischievous grin appearing on his features. “I could make you coffee again, if you prefer.” He wrinkled his nose and was glad that he was able to hide his expression. “No, please don’t.” He insisted; a little bit too obvious in his aversion about the thought. “Tea will be fine.” Omen didn’t like tea. He could remember that. It reminded him of the vague concept of being ill; lying in bed for days, feeling feverish, having a sore throat. He tried to wrap his mind around the image; it felt strange and way too far away. In his head it slowly formed the uncertainty if he actually experienced something like that in the first place. Or if his mind was just fabricating memories of his own to fill the dark and empty spots inside him. He knew he had been a normal human. Once. A long time ago. How many years have passed? How old was he? When was he born? What’s his name? But everytime he was sure to catch a glimpse of what he had been like it came with the unsettling weight of being out of touch. He felt an uneasy turmoil rising inside of him and took a sip from his cup. To his surprise, Omen had to admit that, although he wouldn’t drink tea even if his life depended on it, Cypher was really good at making it. Not that he was skilled at drawing many notable comparisons. But it tasted … nice. It was harsh and refreshing. And at the moment, probably the only constant that untangled his thoughts. He would keep that a secret. “I owe you an apology.” Omen allowed himself to blink. “For what?” He asked and failed to hide his confusion. “The day I visited you I was pestering you. At a moment you had no chance to prevent me.” Cypher started to explain. “That was not fair of me.” He didn’t want to deal with the graveness that this conversation was about to establish; he had the unpleasant feeling that he wasn’t ready for that kind of talk at the moment. Not only physically, but also mentally. He was tired and felt unusually worn out. But he refused to use neither as an excuse. Instead he shrugged casually. “Could be worse.” He said. “Just don’t make me coffee ever again.” He even considered to underline his words with a weak smirk, but he didn’t feel like it. And the fact that it wouldn’t be seen, made the matter irrelevant anyway. He could see how the corner of his mouth twitched for a moment. At least it seemed that his attempt had not completely come to nothing. “I will keep that in mind.” Cypher assured; half amused, half artificially offended. “But …” He continued and it was clear that the man had other plans in mind for his voice changed quickly back to a more serious tone. “I truly meant what I said back then.” You said a lot of things, Omen wanted to cut in but kept quiet. He had to admit that he couldn’t remember half of their conversation. Aside from a few very specific bits and pieces. And his pride prevented him from even suggesting such a very important detail. If he could, he would rather completely forget the whole encounter. Now that he allowed himself to think about it, he realized how uncomfortable the whole event had been to him. Maybe he had suppressed it on purpose for he still was not well enough to deal with such things at the moment. He realized right away that this wasn’t the case. Omen would have never dealt with it. He had locked it away deep inside him and would pretend it never happened. His current state had just left him with no energy to lead his mind astray. He didn’t want to explore what it truly meant to him and what it would change if he simply accepted everything the man had said that day as nothing else than the truth. And furthermore, he didn’t want to find out what it would do to him. He had no problem pretending that everything Cypher told him was just another lie. It made things much easier. The suspicion of only being misled was reassuring. Betrayal was something Omen could handle. Betrayal was met with contempt and anger. Something he was familiar with. For everything else, he knew, he had no concept. He thought that he got a glimpse of what this conversation would lead to and he decided to cut in before it had a chance to rise up. “Like I said, It’s not a big deal.” He tried his best to be reassuring. For he really wanted to ensure that the man would finally come to the conclusion that this was indeed the case. Cypher owed him nothing. No apologies. No compassion. No sympathy. Omen was not dead. And even if he were, there would be nothing to grieve. A small part of him was keen to find out why this guy was so incredibly eager to dig him a metaphorical grave. But the same part also shied away from raising this question in the first place. The way he frowned deeply led him to believe that he had probably caused Cypher to lose his temper for the first time. When he finally only let out a sigh, he was almost a little disappointed. “I wonder …” He began unswerving calm. “If you are saying this because you really believe it or just because I am the one you have to tell that to.” Omen fell silent for a moment; taking his time to think about this statement, but quickly came to the realization that he had no idea what Cypher was trying to tell him. He quarreled with a decent response. Nothing that came to his mind seemed to feel right or was worth enough to be expressed. And since he didn’t intend to start a fight right at the beginning of their conversation, he decided to face Cypher’s words with what he knew best. Avoidance. “I already told you it has nothing to do with you.” He said and as he spoke, he got aware of the slowly approaching thought of how presumptuous the man was actually acting. Omen couldn’t shake off the impression that Cypher desperately wanted to be the reason for his issues. Despite the fact that this was more or less the truth, he neither fully understood the meaning behind it, nor would he give him the satisfaction of admitting it. He observed how he traced the rim of the cup with his finger. There was something disturbingly elegant about it. And Omen told himself that maybe it was just easier for him to look at his hands instead of meeting his glance. “And I know that’s not true.” Cypher replied with an impertinent conviction. For a brief moment had to pull himself together not to throw his own cup at him. The impulse came as quickly as it vanished. Omen hesitated. For he knew that if he went into it now, they would probably just go around in circles. “Tell me.” He began and tried to keep his emotions at bay. “Would you feel any better if I blame you?” He settled for asking in return; less spiteful. More sincere and indulgent. Something deep inside him didn’t want Cypher to be the reason for his troubles. He was certain that something was indeed not right with himself; something that needed to be fixed. Something he couldn’t explain at all. He was merely trying to understand why the man placed so much inestimable value on wanting to be; why he almost forcefully tried to get an affirmation from him. Cypher didn’t answer right away and for a very long time Omen wondered if his statement had ignited something inside the man. Some kind of twisted resentment or sentimentality he himself was unable to understand. “It’s hardly a matter of feeling better.” He finally settled for a response. Omen almost rolled his eyes at that. Almost. And when he reminded himself that the man wasn't able to notice his expression the urge to give into it had already left his body. “Of course not. You want to feel guilty.” He said. “But I won’t allow you to feel guilty about me.” He watched him as he narrowed his eyes. Hard and firm. “This isn’t your decision to make.” Cypher replied; oddly scrictly. And when he seemed to realize how demanding he sounded, he sighed. “It is my choice alone to whom I give my sympathy. Whether you like that or not.” His voice a bit softer than before. He gripped the cup a bit harder and played with the thought of whether he would be able to break it between his fingers like he was able to simply snap someone's neck. Omen simply came to the quick conclusion that right now he was far too weak for both at the moment. He couldn’t get rid of the unpleasant feeling of something piercing right into him. Deep and hot. Larger than a needle. Smaller than a drill. Leaving him exposed and vulnerable. “Did it ever come into your mind that I might not need your sympathy?” He tried; way too defensive for his own taste. He felt like the words were breaking on his teeth; syllable after syllable. And he wondered if he was even capable of uttering a sane sentence without throwing up all his disgust and abhorrence. He hated every bit of it. He was met with a thoughtful look. “And did it ever come into your mind that you might just believe that because you think you don’t deserve it?” Cypher asked and it sounded so simple when he said it. As if it would really be that easy to understand. But for Omen it wasn’t easy. And he would rather die than admit it out loud. And whenever Omen feared he was about to confess that he didn’t understand something - something that seemed to be so clearly to everyone else - he met things with the only dwelled way that promised him safety. Wrath. “So you think I would hate myself that much?” He snapped. To be honest, the thought alone was understandable. Why should he not hate himself? The assumption that there was so little self-esteem left inside of him was more than obvious. Who wouldn’t loathe themself at least a little bit when they were so far away from being human? He couldn't deny that he didn't like himself. Not a bit. Not only for his miserable existence alone. He was ungracious and sullen. Moody and angry. He was rude; more to himself than to others. He did his best to make people afraid of him; to push them sway. Maybe he really didn’t deserve the kindness of others. Maybe it was true. Because he never did anything to earn it. “I think ...” Cypher began; unimpressed by his slowly approaching anger. “You wish others would hate you that much.” Omen felt his anger quickly turning into something else; a whole other kind of turmoil. Something he actually knew from his dark and murky past. It was vulnerable and humiliating. Too intimate to share it with someone else. He drank his tea and hoped it would help to soothe the wave that was about to hit him. Hard and unforgiving. “I do.” He finally said and was surprised how honest he could be. Something was about to break out of him; something he didn’t want to be revealed at all. Something dreadful and hideous of which he was scared of for he didn’t know what it was meant to be. But unquestionably it was something he didn't want to explore and belonged to a part of himself he was resisting. And now, when it dawned to him that his guard had slipped just for a moment, he had to deal with the tormenting feeling of being exposed like an open book. Cypher’s expression did change so slightly; it was hard to tell but certainly existed and if he dared to watch him just close enough, he was indeed able to notice it. Omen couldn’t shake off the thought that right now it was more important than ever. Otherwise he would risk to unfold what he so desperately tried to hide. “Do you want to tell me why?” He asked in return. There was no nagging curiosity in his words. Even though there was indeed an interest; true and meaningful. The view alone made him tremble. The way he said that felt so awfully attentive. Like some kind of invitation. Omen almost considered his offering. He took his time to think about it. He asked himself what exactly he feared so much that in the end he would refuse anyway. He pondered over what prevented him from not even uttering the rudest of all the remarks that ran through his mind and which his thoughts kept circling. Over and over again. Something, perhaps an intangible, diffuse fear or an apprehension driven by distrust, stopped him; it blocked something inside him. Like a vast, insurmountable wall that he couldn’t tear down. No matter how hard he tried. Even if he wanted to answer this question; sincere or not, the most obvious lie or the most harsh reply would do the trick, he was sure about that and a small part inside of him truly wanted to answer for he could hear it scratching and rioting inside of him. But he couldn’t. Then he realized that his silence was answer enough. * Omen didn’t allow himself to heal. Healing meant to become better. Better meant to become more of himself. Scratching together shards of lost memories like broken glass. Piece by piece. It was all the same. An endless cycle. Recovering. Getting better. Getting healthier. Voice less raspy; body less shallow. Bones. Flesh. Skin. Becoming more human. Until the day he would die again. Someday. Somewhere. Getting ripped apart from the inside; losing what he collected along the way. It would happen. Sooner or later. And then he would start all over again. Never full. Never complete. Just trapped between a neverending state of death and life. He unwrapped the bandages on his arm cautiously. The injection site of the cannula had become inflamed and he needed to take care of that before it had a chance to cause more damage. He had expected something like this to happen. His regrowing skin was sensitive and vulnerable to literally everything with the potential of being slightly irritating. To the point where even the touch of cloth was unbearable and felt utterly nasty. Even with the bandages he had to be gentle. Especially when it was so incredibly hot like right now, they tended to stick on his skin and he would rip himself to shreds. At least it didn't bleed. That would come far later. Maybe he would die once more before that started and spare him at least this mess. There was indeed a dark spot in the middle of the crook of his arm. Vicious purple. In contrast to his unnaturally pale skin it looked like a hickey. He tensed when the realization of his thought slowly ebbed inside his mind and groaned at the edge of frustration. Hastily, he shoved the blurry imagination which was threatening to form inside him into a far away corner of his head. And for the first time, Omen was glad when he heard knocking. Only to curse everyone and everything right after. He paused, musing if it was a good idea to simply not reply or consider opening the door. Even though it was already clear that this would be a very childish behavior. After all, it was quite out of the question whether he was here or not. His presence was to be judged pretty clear by the absurdly loud music with much more questionable lyrics. Omen jibbed at the thought of social interaction with an uninvited guest. He didn't want to lose the last bit of his solitude, which he hadn't yet wasted on a certain pushy person, irretrievably as well. Then he decided, albeit grudgingly, that it was perhaps much wiser not to play the freak for once. He could practice being forthcoming for a change. Especially since he was a bit overwhelmed by the assumption that it might mean something quite important when someone came to him of all people. For something like this never happened before. And there was no reason for it. Omen had nothing helpful to offer that would make people willingly seek his closeness. Aside from the fact that he was good at killing, which had a rather deterrent effect on most people. Slowly he rose from his position. He turned off the music and could feel that gnawing thing still inside of him. It had ripped a hole in his insides the day before; larger than a needle. And it was moving inside him; fueled by the anticipation that suddenly befell him and that he couldn't explain. It was warm and strangely pleasant. He opened the door with the realization that he couldn't just lock it in. It would eat its way out of him. And he was afraid of what was about to happen to him if he just simply let it be; accept it. Embrace it. For it was now just there. A part of him. “Good morning.” Omen inhaled deeply for otherwise he would have screamed at the top of his lungs. He didn't know how it felt to be struck by lightning. He hadn't had the pleasure yet to tumble across that experience so far. But he assumed that what he was feeling right now came pretty much close to the comparison. For a moment, his head was completely empty for once. Not a single thought crossed his mind. It was strangely pleasant. Seconds later, it was like a cold shiver was running down his spine. Omen felt haunted. By a very obtrusive and persistent ghost. He told himself that he would have expected anyone else. He almost wished a little that it could have been any other person. But it was just his own personal nuisance. Much too jolly and chipper for such a time of day. Then he realized that for him there was no time of day when he did not find such a mirth abominable. Cypher seemed to be in a very good mood. Perhaps he had gotten up this morning with the unshakable intention of getting on his nerves once more. He would trust him with doing something like that. “May you let me in?” He dared to ask with his phony sheepish smile. Omen considered if it would be worth it to punch him in his face. But he came to the sober conclusion that it would speak only speak for itself if he broke the nose of the only person obviously willing to deal with him. Dejected and defeated, he stepped aside wordlessly. Only now did he realize that he was still holding his breath and allowed himself to sigh heavily. “What did I do to deserve your presence?” He addressed this question more to the cosmos itself and almost wished some supernatural power would answer him. He admitted that this was indeed a bit too dramatic. Cypher didn't answer right away, even though it was obvious that he didn't let himself be asked twice to enter the room and probably didn't expect himself to be invited so easily. Either he ignored his comment or he found it amusing; at least he made no effort to reply to it. “I have something for you.” He announced; almost mysteriously promising. Only now he noticed that, equally mysterious, small container the man brought with him. He hadn’t seen it before but he had to face the truth that he had been occupied with something entirely else. Omen eyed the small metal box and made no effort to hide his suspicion. “What’s that?” “Look for yourself.” Silently he glared at Cypher. Then at the box. He thought about it for a moment. Then he cursed that in the end his curiosity was ultimately greater than all of his resentment and reached for it. Before he was able to fully comprehend what he was doing, he flinched. Omen froze in his movement when the realization dawned on him that one of his arms was still unwrapped and exposed. And before his mind could come up with a far more subtle motion, he quickly fetched the thing to place it on his desk; like a scared and injured animal trying to get some distance between them. Not wanting to draw any more undivided attention to himself, he simply let the distress he suddenly felt wash over him. He brushed it away and distracted himself - and hopefully Cypher as well - by opening that damn box. He couldn’t fully deny the anticipation he felt when he peeked inside. Omen blinked. Irritated. “That’s … soup.” He stated in a more surprised tone than he intended as looked up to meet his eyes while frowning openly irritated. A smile was the first thing he got in response. “Yes. Indeed.” Cypher said in an equally surprised but highly artificial way. That didn’t answer anything; aside from the fact that, once more, the man was always ready to take an opportunity to mock him. Yet, he had to admit that his comment hadn’t been quite specific enough to not turn it into some kind of joke. “You made me soup.” He tried once more and while he spoke, he felt his confusion rise anew. Omen watched closely as Cypher blinked like his reply had been the most unusual thing he had ever heard. “Of course I did.” He went for an explanation; a bit too enthusiastic. “I was afraid you wouldn’t take enough care of yourself.” He continued and took his time to give the room a more observant look. And before Omen had a chance to raise a demur, he added: “Seems like I was right.” It sounded more like a sober observation; less like a rebuke. “I am able to take care of myself very well on my own.” Omen felt the urge to reply once he finally got the chance to speak. Albeit, it was a quite useless attempt for he barely couldn’t deny the current state of his rooms. He remembered that he actually had in mind to clean up. But he lacked the energy and furthermore the motivation. “Oh really?” Cypher asked with undeniable suspicion in his voice. “When was the last time you ate?” He wanted to know as he wrinkled his brows. Omen refused to answer. Simply because he couldn’t answer that question. Instead he sighed. “I thought so.” He would like to point out that he didn’t want this kind of attention. Or any attention in general. It made him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t like it. The thought that someone would willingly go through the trouble of doing something exclusively for him without being asked. His distrust whispered into his ear. He tried to shake off the feeling that the entire gesture came with some expectations; with some rewards in return of his own. He wasn’t able to figure out what was expected from him, but he knew it was there and it would approach him. Sooner or later. Some kind of … favor. The man wanted a talk as payment for a broken device. What would he want in exchange for … soup? However, Omen was someone who was also quite simple minded and would never refuse or reject food if it came to him so easily and uncomplicatedly. “Thank you.” He finally said as sincere as tame and his own behavior astonished him. He didn't know where the impulse came from, but he was sure it wasn't self-interest alone and reached far beyond this absurd gesture. Judging by the look on Cypher's face, he was apparently as surprised at his reaction as he was at the moment. He watched him blink before a pleased smile slowly formed on his face. “Ah, so you do have some manners, I see.” He refrained from commenting on that with a spiteful remark. Omen didn’t want to get indignant because he was very aware that his behavior would be nothing else but insolent and ungrateful. And he didn’t want to constantly confirm the already bad expectations that people already had of him. Instead he decided to simply change the topic. “Well …” He began. “What else do you want?” He tried his best to sound curious instead of dismissive; although he had to admit that his question wasn’t the wisest choice of wording. He licked his lips nervously and added: “Don’t tell me you just came over to bring me … soup.” The thought was so absurd and irrational. He almost convinced himself that this was exactly something someone like Cypher would actually do. Omen carefully closed the lid of the container. “There you have me.” Cypher said with a tone of playful amusement. And when Omen didn’t respond, he felt the need to hastily continue. “I have something else for you.” Helplessly he watched him as Cypher was about to reveal something else from the inside of his jacket. This time he put the thing on the desk himself and Omen couldn’t do anything else than to assume that he only did it out of a very subtle foresight. “Since I am not done with your laptop yet.” He explained. Omen shifted his glance between the pad and the man right next to him. He gnawed at his bottom lip to fetch an appropriate response. Something that wouldn’t imply his discontent about this outcome. When he had to face the fact that he failed at coming up with something smart or polite, he sighed. Deep and long. He felt oddly defeated. “I can’t accept this.” His voice so low that he feared it was nothing but a whisper. Maybe it was. He watched Cypher blinking; not in confusion. It was something entirely different. “Why not?” He didn’t sound upset or resentful; just staggered. “It’s …” Too much, he had in mind but didn’t find the courage to put it into words. Of Everything. At once. Just a moment ago he was busy processing one oddity. Now he was already confronted with the next one. And he had to admit, if he liked it or not, that he currently hadn’t the strength to deal with more than one favor at the time. He also didn't want to confess that all of this was happening a little too fast for him. Omen wasn’t used to the helpfulness of other people. Mostly, he turned down every kind of offering and gave a wide berth at the possibility to rely on the mercy of others. Not because he didn't see himself worthy of it or because he didn't deserve it. But because he did not believe that he could give them anything in return. Anything useful at least. There was always this creeping apprehension that in the long run he might make the people around him feel like he was taking advantage of them. “It’s not necessary.” He finally settled for an answer and already hated how weak it must sound. Omen watched him narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “Don’t you have to write a report as well?” He asked. “I can write it on paper.” He shrugged; fetching for the first thing coming to his mind and realized what kind of weak response that really was, now that he had voiced it. In his head it sounded much more convincing. “I bet Brimstone wouldn’t mind.” He added; out of the sheer wish to dodge this uncomfortable gesture. Probably that was true. Brimstone was in fact always a bit old-fashioned, according to Killjoy. Cypher sighed. “Bon Dieu.” And he couldn’t tell if it was out of resignation or annoyance. Probably borth. For Omen was always only the cause of discontent. He was exhausting and tiring. And he noticed very well how he was neither worth the effort nor the attention. “How can one person be so stubborn?” “I am not stubborn. I am just …” Not used to stuff like this, it crossed his mind and he tried his best to brush the thought away as quickly as possible before it even had a chance to nest inside him and spread its roots. He didn’t want to play with the possibility of what it would feel like to allow … something like this. He couldn’t even name it if it actually had one in the first place. The feeling it awoke; small yet warm. Terribly unfamiliar. He wanted to catch it between his hands and squeeze it until it was no longer bothering him. “Will you please accept something nice for once?” To his surprise, Cypher sounded far from being pushy or insistent. It was much more a simple request; almost like a wish. Kind. Gentle. And he couldn’t help himself but to be completely puzzled by it. Omen took his time to respond. He gritted his teeth because he knew it was easy to dismiss any kind of this man’s words with a very harsh and unambiguous reply. He could yell at him. He could be needlessly angry. He could be rude and ungrateful. But he knew that nothing of such an action would answer the question that was slowly rising to the surface. It took him a ridiculous amount of time to screw it out of himself. “Why would you do something nice for me?” He said and felt like he was about to suffocate; a feeling he was now quite familiar with due to the turns of events. What kind of twisted irony that was supposed to be. Offering an alarmingly ominous smile, Cypher did the most typical thing of him which was simply not answering his question right away. “I guess you wouldn’t believe the truth.” He said instead. Omen could leave it at that and just accept it. But he wanted an answer that was a little more definite for once and didn’t leave him completely in the dark all alone. Something he wouldn't have to spend his nights pondering over because it was emphatically enough. “And the truth is?” He pressed on and already regretted his decision to approach such a step. Deep inside, he already knew it was futile and would lead to nothing. He was sure it would only leave him miserable and unsatisfied. “I like you.” He felt himself freezing. It was utterly cold; burning on the edges. It crushed over him like a wave; flowed into the darkest corners of his being and whatever it touched was dipped in warmth. Omen bit his lip. He wanted to shake this sensation off like a cat would do with rain and felt he was helpless struggling against it. He felt his heart racing. “You are right.” He heard himself speaking and it sounded like it was coming from pretty far away. Or just so quiet that he wasn’t sure if it was just one of his own thoughts. “I don’t believe you.” He continued; his own voice filled with less disdain as he intended it to be and a tiny part of him was grateful for that. Cypher met him with a glance he couldn’t decode no matter how hard he tried. He assumed that the only reason for that was lying in his inexperience with people on a daily basis and his constant wish for isolation. But even to him it was pretty clear that it wasn’t just modest pity. It seemed to be something more sincere and confident; something trustworthy. “I promise it won’t hurt you.” He felt the agony that was trying to approach him; only to inform him of the exact opposite. It would hurt him. It would devour him piece by piece and destroy him in the long run. But the longer he looked at this man, with his strange candor and his irritating behavior, he wanted to believe him. Early the next morning he was assailed by a strange impulse he had never known before. He blamed it on the fact that he was suffering from a severe lack of sleep and his mind was gradually starting to go crazy. He had slept only three hours. Restless and dreamless. Then he had been wide awake. Driven by an incredibly exuberant motivation, Omen swept through all the rooms at his disposal and gathered every bit of dishware that had accumulated over the weeks. As he made his way to the kitchen, he paused. He was overcome by the not so far-fetched thought that he was not doing this purely on his own initiative. Omen wanted to prove something to himself. But above all, he wanted to prove something to Cypher. This realization almost made him wrinkle his nose in distaste. He realized that he wanted to wash this mountain of dishes out of pure, unwavering defiance. It was spite that had ignited him most of everything else. Just because this cursed jasper simply assumed, he was not capable of taking care of himself. And Omen hated himself for being so easily manipulable. But furthermore, he tried to avoid the question why it was suddenly of such an importance to him. He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly had bothered him. He couldn’t define if it had been just light-hearted mockery or serious concern. Omen simply knew that now it mattered to him. It made him furious. Upset. Restless. Gritting his teeth, he had to settle for the explanation that perhaps it was just his own pride and ambition that had swept over him like a tidal wave. He was glad to find the kitchen empty this morning. Otherwise the next best person would have been nothing more than a poor victim to his madness. At least he had waited for a more or less appropriate hour to execute his task of lunacy. He saw the whole thing pragmatically; the sooner he was done with it, the less he risked being seen by anyone and having to cut an explanation for his strange behavior out of his ribs. Which was why he didn't try very hard or take the necessary care to be a little gentle with the dishes. Almost everything at once ended up in the sink. And only when he realized that the capacity was probably insufficient and that he already had his hands up to his elbows in hot water, did he remember that they had a dishwasher. He heard footsteps and sighed; already regretting his impatience. Of course, he should have expected that his plan would not remain undiscovered for long. In fact, he had been almost callous to it until now. “What, in the name of god, are you doing?” Omen stopped in his task right away. He couldn’t see him because he refused to look at him, but he sounded far away from being annoyed or piqued. More sincerely confused. Frowning deeply, he considered simply ignoring him and decided against it, because it would be utterly childish. He gave the sink one last glance before he finally felt ready looking up to meet the man’s eyes. After all, he hadn't surprised him out of the blue, as if he would ambush him at every opportunity, and maybe it was just that little something that made Omen feel less hostile this morning. “What do you think it looks like?” He asked in return. As he simply stared at him; only furrowing his brows and nothing else, Omen was convinced that he was about to mock him with a snarky remark. Instead Cypher’s expression slowly changed. Into something between being worried and lenient. “Use gloves next time, please.” He didn’t know what he expected, apart from the certain mockery he would get for his action, but he was nonetheless disappointed for some unfathomable reason. The thought that he didn’t start all of this for his own sake alone started to crawl back into his mind and Omen felt the natural, familiar feeling of resentment replacing it quickly. “Will you tell me why you keep stalking me?” He asked; a little bit vexed; already feeling how the burst of energy he felt before washed rapidly away. Exhaustion was starting to gnaw at his edges; a well-known and subliminal dejection. Something that was always there; hiding underneath the layers of his being. Something he could ignore for a while but never get rid off. Cypher met him with his warm and indulgent glance. And Omen finally unwrapped the reason why he didn’t like that look. It was that kind of look someone would look at a small dog being disobedient. Or something similar. Something that made it terribly hard to meet with anger, no matter how terribly it behaved. Out of pure infatuation. “It’s eight o’clock, Omen.” He simply stated. “I've been up for two hours already. Then I heard noises coming from the kitchen.” And while he spoke, he approached him slowly. “I think you are about to wake the entire house.” That didn’t sound like a kind of reproach. It was just a mere observation. Omen made a sound that was a little bit too sulky for his own good. And given to the situation he had put himself into all alone, it also seemed to be a very silly and inappropriate reaction. It was evident that Cypher didn’t make it his goal to follow every one of his steps. Even when his doubt tried to convince him otherwise. There was no mandatory reason for that. But on the other hand, the man had never really needed a good reason to run into him. He knew he was about to run around in circles. Again. And again. What Cypher said made at least sense to him. A small part inside of him tried to make him understand that this hadn’t been the answer he was looking for, but nonetheless, he would arrange himself with it. He had to. For he wouldn’t get anything else. And he didn’t believe that he would comprehend the sensitivity to ask about it. Or the courage. Cypher leaned against the kitchen counter next to him and remained silent. He merely stared at him; a little thoughtful and secretive. And because Omen was beginning to see his patience wearing thin, he finally asked: “What are you looking at?” Because even for his own standards that mood swing seemed to be a bit too odd. “I wonder …” Cypher slowly began; leaning closer. “About what?” He cut in. He watched his hand move to the hem of his cape; too slow for him to stop it right away, and too quick to prevent it. “Why are you always wearing this thing?” Cypher asked, softly. His fingers tracing the tatters, thoughtfully and gently. “You said once, you didn’t work for Kingdom. Yet, you still keep it.” Omen heard every word; loud and clear. But he could have spoken to him in an entirely different language at that moment and it would have made no difference. His heart was beating much louder than anything else. He should have been yelling at him. He should have been breaking his nose; just one swift punch right into his pretty face would have been enough to knock him down. He should have been tearing him to shreds and thrown his bloody remains into a nearby dumpster of Skid Row. Instead, Omen simply did nothing; he allowed it to happen. Helpless and lost. “You will never get it.” He said after finally coming to the realization, that he was able to speak. His own voice seemed so infinitely foreign to him. Soft and quiet. “Does it bear some kind of sentiment for you?” Cypher asked; as quiet. Omen felt a tinge of emotion that had rarely crossed his path. It came over him so unexpectedly and unpredictably that he could not deny it with the best will in the world. It just happened. It came from somewhere deep inside him. From a corner of his heart of which he never knew it existed. He laughed. A light-hearted, amused laughter. “Oh, no. Oh god. No.” He could see from the corner of his eyes how Cypher wrinkled his forehead. Completely lost. “May you enlighten me?” Omen tried his best to calm down. “I am sorry. It’s just …” He took a deep breath. “It’s so ridiculous.” He tried again. “It’s just because it’s … It’s the only cape I own.” He managed to say; between another giggle. Cypher was about to say something; Omen could notice that very well. But he didn’t get the chance to do so because a very loud yawn right behind them prevented him from doing so. Obviously, they shared the same impulse to feel strangely caught. He would stake his life on it, that they took a look over their shoulders just at the exact same moment. Raze examined the scene; her eyes switched between them a few times. Firstly, she blinked in utter confusion. Then something inside her head seemed to be ignited. A jubilant grin formed on her features. “Klara owes me ten dollars now.” She announced proudly and picked up an apple from the table. “Klara?” Cypher raised a brow; finally letting go of him. The girl cleared her throat; a bit too exaggerated to be misleading. “Killjoy.” The apple wandered between her hands. “We made a bet on who would be the one constantly hoarding the dishes.” Then she finally took a bite. Omen gritted his teeth at that. “How lovely.” He muttered and probably sounded more affected than he wanted to be. But deep down he couldn’t completely deny that the imagination of someone else talking about him, made him uncomfortable. He would rather be not the topic of anyone’s conversation; behind his back. It didn’t matter if it would be in bad faith or simply joking - he tried to convince himself at least; Omen knew he had his shortcomings and probably proved them on a daily basis. The concept alone made him feel more weird than he already used to be. Cypher raised a brow; curious. “And since when are you both on first name terms?” Something in Omen rose; it was cold and bitter. He did not know what it was and why it suddenly awoke in him. But he knew it had something to do with how Cypher treated others in his presence. How he showed his interest towards them. Out of nowhere. And how it made him feel so distant. He choked it down. Hard. Raze narrowed her eyes in hostile suspicion. “That’s none of your business.” She answered sharply. “Very well.” He replied with a thoughtful nod. “What do you want for breakfast, ya Rouhi?” Omen blinked. “Are you talking to me?” “Of course. Who else do you think I’m talking to?” He asked. And Omen felt how the cold and bitter feeling vanished as quickly as it came. In a blink of an eye. As if it never existed in the first place. “How about you make breakfast for all of us since you are already here?” Raze demanded with her mouth full as she was about to pour herself a coffee. The cheeky grin slowly found its way back on her lips. “Did I hear breakfast?” Jett peeked her head inside the room. “Add me to the list, yeah? Cool.” She stopped immediately in her tracks to enter the kitchen as well. It almost seemed as if she actually had something else in mind and was in a hurry, only to spontaneously change her course. The man sighed. “I am not going to cook for all of you.” Omen smirked and for once he wished someone could see his face. “Don’t mess with the ladies. You could end up regretting it.” He replied before he turned back to the sink. * When Sova and Phoenix arrived back from their mission in London, Brimstone arranged yet another meeting. This time Omen really had in mind to not come in late again. However, fortune had never been on his side. He had overslept. Again. Because for Omen, sleep was either an incomprehensible concept that stayed away from him for weeks or tormented him with its absence for nights. The few hours he actually had left in which he tried his best to get some rest, he spent lying awake for hours. And once he was about to finally fall asleep, he was already jolted back into reality. However, this hadn’t been the worst thing for him that day. He was used to his unhealthy patterns no normal being would be able to handle. The lack of sleep was the least of his problems. The real issues came with the consequences he had to draw from them. Sometimes it was just the looks he got that bothered him. Sometimes it was this unbearable feeling of knowing that he seemed to be unreliable. The voice inside his head, small and coming from pretty far away, was trying to convince him that everyone knew he was irresponsible and obnoxious and inept. He kept it at bay as much as he could and tried to focus. It was hard. Omen wasn’t only tired. He was still exhausted from his last mission and he knew he needed to recover from it as soon as possible. As if that alone wasn't enough to cause a minor disaster, he was terribly bored. It was no secret that Omen was often bored in meetings. Most of the time he didn't have much to contribute anyway, and he often baulked at the idea of speaking in front of a multitude of people while they were all staring at him. And a lot of cases weren’t actually relevant; as far as it affected himself, his interest was kept in clear limits. His presence was purely formal and useful only in case he had to fulfill a specific role. He had a quite definite purpose. Infiltrating and killing. Omen was good at both. Others should take care of the rest. He blinked and avoided yawning. He could see the gray mass behind his forehead; sluggish and leaden. And he was absolutely sure that no coffee in the world would dispel that heaviness today. At least Raze shared his view that today had to be exceedingly boring, because she made the bold move to simply take a nap next to him. Or it was just another daring competition on her part to test Sage’s limits. He squinted at her before turning away. Something brushed his arm and he tensed. It felt like someone had dipped him in ice cold water. The sensation rushed through him; quick and vast. And as fast as it had entered him, it left; leaving a numb and hollow spot on where it had lasted. He realized how absent and distracted he actually had been for just a single moment. It was a frightful and uncanny experience and it harshly reminded him to pay more attention to his surroundings. He could still feel the echo of the touch, and he forced himself not to scratch it out of his flesh until it disappeared. Omen shuddered. He knew Cypher had taken a seat next to him as well. Another consequence of being late led to the fact that he had to fill the remaining gaps. But he didn’t want to look at him. He couldn’t explain where his unwillingness came from and he felt terribly childish. But he believed it was out of the fear that his strange behavior had been noticed. At least he wanted to appear that this accidently gesture was not affecting him in any kind of way. He wondered what the man would do if he knew about it. And hoped that he did not. After all, there was already nothing stopping him from harassing Omen with his presence at every available opportunity. Although it had to be pretty clear that he found his attention almost unbearable. Almost. For the most time. The other times it was just irritating, Unusual. Exceedingly peculiar. There it was again; that light touch. Briefly. Unobtrusive. Intense. Omen took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling burning inside him until he couldn't stand it anymore. In one swift movement, he raised his head and glared menacingly in Cypher's direction. “Will you–?” He hissed. “Shhh.” Cypher cut him off softly. “Look.” He blinked but remained silent. Through Cypher's hands wordlessly traveled a coin; over each of his knuckles. From one hand to the other. Until it finally came to rest in the palm of one hand. Omen watched him as he closed his hands. Very slowly. Then, after a few seconds, he opened them again. Quickly. The coin was gone. Omen blinked again. It was just a plain coin. Not the ones he normally used which would explain something like this to happen so easily. “How did you do that?” He asked and failed to hide his curiosity. It was a trick. Of course it was some kind of stupid trick. But it made him furious to not get behind how he was able to do it. There was this suggestive smile that crept into his face; just a little sly and openly secretive. “Magicians never reveal their secrets.” Cypher grinned. Omen snorted. He had expected such an answer. It was quite obvious. But at least he had tried even though he didn’t know why it actually came into his mind to ask in the first place. It couldn’t just have been out of mere curiosity. But maybe it had grown steadily over the months. Bit by bit, whenever Cypher showed off such a feat. It had been the first thing Omen had noticed about him; had watched his hands more often than his face. And maybe, he thought, his furtive glances had not gone unnoticed. Maybe he had just hoped that it would stay this way forever. Omen felt his heart sink. He quickly closed the box that was about to open in his head, because he thought he would choke on it. Cypher obviously didn’t want to tell him his secret and he decided to leave at that. For the first time this day it seemed to be a very wise idea to actually follow the meeting. “Open your hand, will you?” He heard him whisper and slowly got aware that he had been absent once more; caught and tangled deeply inside his own thoughts. Omen couldn’t tell if it had been seconds or minutes. It took him a moment to follow his request. Torn whether he should comply with the call or simply punish him with ignorance. He knew one of them was the wiser decision. Omen decided on one of them without giving it another thought. Like an impulse; driven from something deep within. Tentatively, he opened his own hand; couldn’t even remember that he had clenched it into a fist. And there was the coin again. Omen watched the small token harmlessly resting in his palm. Then he looked up to meet Cypher’s eyes. “You …” He began and licked his lips. “You really need to tell me how you do that .... Please." He said. He was met with a teasing smirk. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my dear.” “Whatever.” Omen snapped back. He sullenly fished the coin out of his hand to return it. “No, no.” Cypher whispered softly. His lips curled up into a warm smile. Omen hesitated. Then he met his eyes with confusion. “Keep it.” Something inside of him had changed. At the beginning it had been very small; almost tiny. But it had grown with every passing day, becoming bigger and stronger. To the point where it had started to become impossible to ignore it. That strange thing. This odd feeling; never satisfied and always hungry. Chewing on his soul, robbing him from his sleep. It teared and scratched at his insides; steadily and slowly. Filling every empty spot of him with itself. Piece by piece. Like a gaping wound, raw and deep, that leisurely began to close on its own. Like healing. He had tried to ignore it. He had tried to push it far away into a small corner of his mind. He had tried to starve it to death. With avoidance. With anger. With bad intentions. And maybe that helped for a while. But it never left him completely alone. It was always there. Somewhere. Deeply hidden. Lurking. Omen didn't know what it was, where it came from, or what it wanted. It prevented him from his sleep; made his nights long and his mornings even worse. It longed for being satisfied, for being acknowledged, for relief. When it was quiet, it just wanted to exist. Curled up like a sleeping cat on a dying man's chest. Warm. Comforting. Harmless. It was tame. But so heavy that he thought, he couldn’t breathe. Like now. When he himself was quiet. In the early hours of a new day. Somewhere between three and five in the morning. When he stared at the ceiling of his room and listened to the ticking of the clock. But it was an irrefutable and undeniable fact that it was always the loudest when Cypher was around; when he was near him, when he simply looked at him. When he talked to him. When he caught himself staring at him. Then it scratched and bit and raged; turning his heart into a cage. And it screamed and cried; tried to escape. It begged and sobbed to be let out. Omen turned the coin between his fingers. He couldn’t get rid of Cypher. He had tried. He had tried to avoid him. He had tried being angry at him. And he had tried to be nasty and ungrateful and insufferable and obnoxious. For he had hoped, or rather was driven by the irrevocable conviction, that the man would eventually lose interest in him all by himself. And Omen had planned to be extraordinarily hideous with full intention. Just to make the whole thing a bit easier for that poor fellow. But Cypher turned out to not be easily pushed away. Instead, he brought him bad coffee. He asked him if he liked tea, he cooked soup only for him and wanted to know what he prefered for breakfast. Candid. Sincere. Kind. And he had done something of which Omen never thought it would be actually possible. He had made him laugh. Maybe that was the only reason he didn’t bite off his fingers when he dared to poke him in meetings. And maybe that was the only reason which held him back from strangling him when he dared to step a bit too close. Maybe … Omen placed the coin inside the drawer of his bedside table. Just in case. So he wouldn’t lose it, he told himself. He had a miserable talent when it came to losing things. * It was the morning of the 12th of July when Omen finally decided to just accept him. Like a recurring and immutable constant in his life. Furthermore, he got aware of the fact that he was slowly getting used to it. One step at a time. This realization was less shocking than he had assumed it would be. He had believed that something inside him would rebel and protest against this. He had thought he would fight it tooth and nail. But it hadn’t been disturbing. It hadn’t been over-dramatic and devastating. It was reassuring and calm. He still thought of it as being something more than exceedingly peculiar. A bit eerie. A bit odd. But he had to admit to himself that it was actually not completely terrible. He could stand his closeness, he could tolerate him and he could come to terms with the fact that the way how Cypher asked about things was, in the end, simply due to his character. Or maybe it was fundamentally the way other people treated each other that displeased him. Maybe people just asked questions when they were interested in someone. Completely uninhibited. Open. Straight ahead. And he himself just wasn’t able to deal with it. For Omen was so far away from being human that he just couldn’t simply believe anyone would see a human inside him. But the idea appealed to him. Even if it was strange and irritating. To be seen. As a human. “Death Metal.” He replied quickly as he feared to forget the question on the way due to his constant musing. He sipped his coffee; enjoying the last few shreds of the morning air before the temperature was about to spike over more than hundred degrees. Cypher looked at him in silence for a while. And he came to the conclusion that he must be having a hard time trying to meet his gaze. Omen watched him carefully as his lips curled up into a smile. “Of course.” He said and was about to shake a cigarette out of a half empty package. “How silly of me to ask.” Omen wrinkled his nose for a second before he decided that it might be a bit too picky to deny him his pesky, little addiction outside of the building. He had done that a few times before and he worried that his remarks would some day lead to a confrontation. Smokers tended to be a little impertinent. Besides, Omen was running out of reasonable excuses. He was starting to recover; slowly, but he no longer felt as if the smoke was going to burn the last bits of his lungs. Instead he simply took a step back. “Would you believe me if I told you that I also like k-pop?” He asked and allowed himself to smirk. He saw the man raising a brow in disbelief. Then he put the cigarette between his lips, thinking about his words for a brief moment. Only to take it out again a second later to finally dismiss the possibility of his statement. “Probably not.” Cypher admitted. Omen was about to sigh, but he refused. “See?” The man fell silent once more; cigarette still between his fingers without a serious attempt to light it any time soon. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Do you really?” He asked with a mixture of astonishment and bewilderment. Omen shrugged. “Maybe.” He said, grinning. “Maybe not.” He added and did nothing to hide his amusement for he had to admit that it pleased him immensely to see that it was indeed possible to baffle Cypher. At least for once. “I have my secrets.” “Ah.” Cypher announced in a tone that indicated he finally came to a clear conclusion. He briefly nodded, more to himself than anything else and asked: “And what do I have to do to reveal this secret?” “Let me think about it …” He began even though the answer already crossed his mind in an instant. Omen paused, taking another sip from his cup. “Quitting smoking would be a good start.” He said. When Omen realized what he had just uttered, it felt like his heart stopped for a moment. Without waiting for another word, he was already on his way back inside the building. That day it only annoyed him that he could no longer see Cypher’s face to read his reaction. * They didn’t meet. They kept running into each other. Occasionally. Accidentally. Omen came to terms to simply accept those kinds of incidents. And he was careful enough to not put more weight into them. For he lacked the ability to be capable of more. Arrangements went hand in hand with obligations. Like punctuality. Or planning. Appointments were never casual. They were formally binding. And with them came expectations and aspirations. Fundamental things he didn't want to face. The expectations. The aspirations. Apart from this, he was terrible at keeping track of appointments, he told himself and knew that he was just looking for excuses. But his lack of punctuality was known to everyone. He was said to be unreliable and to have a tendency to be uncooperative. The word flamed inside his mind. Like an image. As if he had already seen it before; read it before. Somewhere. Black letters, Arial, font size twelve. Telling him such things was as grievous as to say the sky was blue. He could see it for himself; all the evidence surrounding him. The lack of self-discipline, the leaning to self-destruction. He saw it. Every day. In the piles of dishes he kept on his desk and the heap of laundry in the corners of his room, the missing sleep, the inability to eat on a daily basis. He saw it. Every day. And like every day, he passed by it almost untouched, took it upon himself to work through the endlessly long list in his head and failed at the end. And failed. And again. His unwillingness to bring structures into his life was so unbearable to himself that it was hard to imagine, he could actually involve someone else into all of this. Into his chaos. His mess. Not only on his desk or his chairs or in every corner of his room. But also the chaos inside his mind. Cypher had not said a word about the reason why exactly he wanted to see him that day. Not even right now. He had merely given the impression that it must be very important. But that was only one of the two reasons why he complied with his request. The other, less flattering reason was that Omen would have to be content with having nothing planned for that day anyway. Nothing at all. Just like almost every day. For Omen had the pleasure or misery, it probably depended from which perspective someone wanted to look at it, to live for the day. At that moment he realized that Cypher must have done it under the color of spending more time with him. How outrageous, he thought. But when he listened deeply within himself, he had to acknowledge, almost regrettably, that the anger that would otherwise have fallen upon him, had completely vanished. Another feeling had taken its place. Something he didn’t understand yet. It was as hot and rambling as wrath, but without the sharp and piercing edges; not trying to eat him up from the inside, devouring the remains of his black heart. He allowed the feeling to linger around for a while. The thought of Cypher only asking him to pay him a visit so be near him, felt … nice. Even if Omen did nothing but watch him work. And didn’t say a single word for himself. Cypher broke the silence with a yawn. He could see him stretch before leaning back in his chair. “Seems like I have to buy a few parts if you want to see your laptop ever again.” He announced and ruined an almost perfectly lazy afternoon. “How about going shopping?” Omen sprawled on an armchair next to the open window. Slightly reluctant for Cypher had asked him twice to take a seat and to not linger on his floor. “Shopping.” He repeated the word wary and helplessly watched the tip of his pencil break on the paper. Out of all things, he thought and bit the inside of his cheek to avoid himself from adding his remark aloud. “Hmmmh.” Cypher gave off an agreeing sound before he turned around in his chair to face him. He chewed at the inside of his cheek; thinking. It was difficult to read his expression quite well. Cypher didn’t look as if he expected the most obvious and very clear answer someone could give to such a simple suggestion. But Omen knew that it was probably the most appropriate option to just agree right away. And he wished it would be that easy. But it wasn’t. And therefore Omen remained silent. A bit too long, he realized with the inner turmoil slowly rising from his depths. He peeked over the brim of his sketchbook to meet his eyes. “You want to go shopping.” He stated once more, hating how bewildered he sounded and felt like a broken record. He couldn’t get rid of the thought that was about to nag at the back of his head; feeling that he was about to tumble into some kind of sinister joke. It was unbearably hot today. Yet, he felt nothing but piercing cold; filling the emptiness inside of him with shards of ice. The pleasant warmth he had felt before was now completely gone. He felt trapped; the urge to leave rippled at his insides. Raging inside of him like a wild animal. Cypher offered him a smile. It was tender and gentle. And Omen feared that he might have shown his discomfort a bit too much. “Yes, my dear.” He said calmly. Far away from being insisting or intrusive. His voice left no room for being not filled with anything else than honest intent. Still his heart beat louder than before. But he couldn’t resist giving into the bitter assumption that stirred inside him. “With me.” He replied dryly; already regretting his choice to offer nothing else but sarcasm. He heard Cypher rising from his chair and followed the sound of his steps coming closer. When he sat down next to him, Omen dared to look at him once more. Afterall, his need for assurance was far stronger than the suspicious voice whispering to him. He stared into those uncanny blue eyes, which always seemed to be a bit out of place. Only for a second or two. Before he got used to that soft and gentle look that always met him. Just him. And sometimes he wondered how someone was just able to look at him like that. Just for a brief moment. Then he pushed the thought into a dark corner to let it rot. “With you.” Cypher confirmed. He was so close that he could smell the hint of mint that surrounded him. His voice must have been so clear and distinct, and yet it seemed to be so terribly far away. Omen licked his brittle lips. He had wished that Cypher would have reacted equally sarcastically. It would have made this whole conversation a bit easier. Or at least he thought so. But it was undeniable that the man was absolutely honest. And he felt equally as bad about not believing his sincerity as he hated himself for having his doubts so easily erased. He sighed deeply. Then he looked away because he couldn’t stand his gaze any longer. He felt the guilt nesting heavily inside of him. Something inside him was always seeking for affirmation to be right; something that liked to wallow itself in bitterness and grudge. Something that wanted to deny him every piece of kindness; a thing that wanted to be angry and leery. A thing that didn’t want to allow him to trust. And if he truly wanted to overcome and defeat it, this resentful and carping beast, he would have to learn to open up. Just a bit. For he was quite sure that his current behavior wasn’t going to work. And Omen wanted it to work. All of this. Whatever it was that he was trying to encounter; wavering between two words and neither of them felt right to be named. For this he needed to return at least the same amount of sincerity that was given to him. He just didn’t know why it was so incredibly difficult for him; why he would rather run away and why he would rather bite off his own tongue and choke on his blood than to open his mouth. Omen caught himself drawing the same circle over and over again in a corner of the page with the dull pencil and paused. He took a deep breath. Then it occurred to him that he didn't necessarily have to look at Cypher for a piece of honesty. He just had to give it to him. “I don’t … like being outside.” Omen replied; struggling awkwardly for an explanation. He felt like he was going to scream. He didn’t see his face, but he could imagine very well how Cypher was about to narrow his eyes. “You enjoy being outside, Omen. You can’t fool me.” And his words had that kind of tone about them. The kind when someone already seemed to know and understand what was going on and still wanted to hear it from the person. The kind that was well aware that someone was probably just fishing for an excuse and didn’t buy it. Hardly malicious or devious, but rather supportive. The kind of voice that provided encouragement; not the solution itself. Like a helping hand. Omen pressed his lips together. “I mean …” He slowly began and paused once more. And stopped himself from continuing drawing more circles by dropping the pen in the middle of the sketchbook. “I don’t like being in public.” He finally managed to say. If he would jump out of that window right now, he would probably die for sure, he assumed. But he didn’t move. For he had the feeling of being frozen solid like a dead cat in the middle of winter on the sidewalk. “It makes you uncomfortable.” Cypher simply replied. Sometimes the man had an obnoxious talent for stating the obvious. Omen sighed once more; not knowing if that was supposed to be a question or a mere statement. But it didn't sound reproachful or teasing. Maybe a bit concerned; he couldn’t tell for sure. He hesitated for a moment, but decided quickly that there was barely any space left for trying to deny the truth. “Yes.” He said quietly, in hopes it would help to end this already awkward conversation. He knew Cypher was staring at him; he could feel it. It was like a warm prickling; coming from deep inside himself. It tickled him if he dared to think about it for longer than a second. Odd and unfamiliar, yet not entirely unpleasant. For it had replaced the strange tearing as if someone was ripping at his soul when he got aware of someone spending him more attention than a brief moment. Cypher didn’t answer right away. Instead he nodded; thoughtfully. “In that case shopping is off the table.” Omen blinked. He hadn’t expected that. He couldn’t even tell why he was so convinced to hear anything else but that. And it tempted him enough to meet Cypher with a rather confused look; never more grateful than right now that the man wasn’t capable of reading his face. Disappointment reached him. Maybe because a small part of him wanted Cypher to be blatant and unyielding. He wanted a reason to be sulky and angry with the man. Even though he knew that it would be highly unfair. Omen was aware that he was about to sabotage himself. And he did nothing to prevent it. He gave off a dismissive noise that sounded like a scornful snorting. “And here I thought you would be more persistent.” He said; half joking, half mocking. A bit too provoking, as he realized a second later as he forced down the unsettling and crushing feeling that was about to claw its way from the abyss. For a split second Cypher looked at him as if he had insulted his mother. His eyes widened and now that he was so close to him, he could hear the soft and artificial noise the lenses gave off when moving. Then he blinked indignant. “I would never try to convince you of something you don’t like.” He explained. “If you don’t want to go out I’ll respect that. Always.” Omen blinked in return. But in blunt astonishment. “Oh.” Right now, he wasn’t able to say anything else. It would take some time for him to come to terms with this information. Silence settled between them. Omen felt how he slowly calmed down from a high of which he didn’t know that he had reached until now. He felt tired and worn out and he wondered if it was due to the fact that he had spent way too much time next to the open window; right in the hot sunshine and maybe that was the reason for his sudden exhaustion. As he took a deep breath, he got aware of the fact that the silence was intended. From the corner of his eyes he could see Cypher waiting; patient and attentive. Omen didn't know whether to be piqued or grateful about it. So he just took his pencil once more and started to erase the circles he had drawn. Slowly. Next to him, Cypher shifted in his seat. Omen assumed he only did it to probably get a better view at whatever he was about to doodle in his book. And he denied his curiosity by simply placing the book at the other side of the armchair. “What would you like to do instead?” Then he asked; leaving no doubt that he was truly interested. Omen stopping once more in his action. “You mean right now?” He asked in return; avoiding the urge to chew at the pen. He watched him carefully as he gave off a nod. “Yes.” Omen took his time to allow himself to think about a satisfying replay. “Nothing.” He simply replied. And when he got the feeling his statement wasn’t clear enough and would probably come off as uninterested or unimaginative, he had a weightful urge to correct himself. He took the next best thought that popped into his head; because it felt good and right; leaving the voice no room to crawl into his mind. “I just enjoy being around you.” He said. And he smiled at the realization of how easy that turned out to be. Just a bit. They made small agreements. Someone would probably call it one step at a time, but none of them said that aloud. It wasn’t necessary to do so. Two days later he had asked him if he wanted to go for a walk with him in the morning. Turned out that going for a walk was actually meant to be jogging in Cypher’s little world. And that in the morning was just another term for 6 o’clock. That morning, he hated this man for already being an overflowing measure of bubbly energy at an unholy hour. But his frustration quickly evaporated. After all, Omen had trouble finding sleep. He was probably already awake long before the man even thought of getting out of bed. And he hoped that some early activity might bring him some peace in the dead of night. Even though he was convinced that no creature in the world should ever be so full of such vim and vigor. At least no normal human, he corrected himself; bitterly. Then he pushed his fretfulness into a dark corner. Omen ran. He could feel the morning air creeping under his clothes; tingling on his skin. The headwind cut his cheeks sharply. His pulse pounding against his neck, his heart beating faster, his lungs burning. Heat blooming in the inside of his being. Sweat dripped down the hollow spot between his shoulders. The pain that clawed at his calves. Omen ran; felt the cold seeping into the fabric of his cape. The scent of wet grass. The noises of the city that pushed through the seclusion. Sirens. Running engines. Passing cars. The annoying ringing of a bicycle. Muffled. Far away; his own breath louder than everything else. He ran and he enjoyed it; the soreness of his muscles, the cold rippling at his flesh, the blistering heat nesting in his guts. Much more, he enjoyed the feeling and the realization that came with it; pounding inside his mind. With every step. With every breath. He was alive. And he couldn't remember the last time he had felt like this. Drained. Leached. Driven. Vivid. The aching of his body, the heaviness of his bones, the blood rushing through his ears. His blurred vision spotted Cypher far behind him. And although his entire body screamed to go one; to push himself to an unknown limit out of pure curiosity and rash excitement, he unavoidably stopped. Like something was pulling on an invisible leash of an overconfident dog. It was a suffocating feeling coming completely out of nowhere. He dismissed it with the assumption that it was caused by his hasty attempt to halt. He took deep breaths to calm down slowly from his high. Patiently, he watched the man coming closer; as worn out as himself. And yet, he was convinced that, unlike him, he could never keep up this pace for hours. The satisfaction of having found perhaps one thing in which Omen would beat him hands down brought a triumphant smile to his lips. Once again, he was quite grateful that he possessed the advantage of being able to keep his facial expressions in the dark. Cypher quickly closed up to him. Quite breathless and visibly exhausted. Without uttering a single word, despite the fact that his expression was telling something entirely else. Omen couldn't help but grin maliciously. Experiencing the man speechless for a change was a circumstance he could certainly come to terms with. Then it occurred to him that the thought was perhaps a little too resentful and he pushed it far away. Fortunately, he hadn't spoken it out loud, which made it fairly easy for him to limit his amends to only giving Cypher enough time to catch his breath. His attention was drawn to a single drop of sweat, slowly dripping from his temple. Leisurely running down his face. Deeper. Passing the side of his neck. Until it vanished at the hem of his shirt. He could feel the rise of a warm feeling crawling from the depths somewhere deep inside him. Pleasant and endearing. Omen blinked. Once. Maybe twice. Then it was gone. “You’re fast.” Cypher stated between two breaths. A bit dry at the edges. Only now, Omen got fully aware of the fact that he had bluntly stared at him. Nervously, he fished for the first thing that crossed his mind. “You would be as much as I am if you wouldn’t smoke.” He replied. Then he bit his lip because he realized a bit too late that his statement might have been nothing more than a complement. And he regretted his choice of meeting his appreciation with jocular scorn. Omen felt his heart beating faster inside him, knowing very well that it was not coming from a delayed exhaustion that was about to overcome him. He didn’t want to meet his eyes once more. He had done so very often in the past. Only small glimpses; sly stares from far away. In hopes of never getting noticed and quickly turning in another direction when he felt he was about getting caught. As if something inside him was constantly telling him that he was about to do something indecent. Something weird. Odd and unpleasant. Strange and uncanny like his entire being. But he felt Cypher looking at him. Quite often. And maybe if he had accepted his presence a little sooner, he probably would have noticed how often he was actually looking at him. Mellow and warm and unbearably kind. Sometimes it was so obnoxious that his entire existence wanted nothing more than to hide. And whenever he couldn't, for he knew it would be highly inappropriate to run away even though everything inside him screamed at him to do so, he watched his hands helplessly as they crawled back in the insides of his sleeves. Like a reflex. Other times it was just … nice. He had no other word that hit it better. It was nice. It felt nice. And if that nice feeling would have been made of something he could touch, he would wrap himself inside it like a blanket. Omen couldn’t tell if he should strangle Cypher or simply punish him with ignorance for doing something like that, and therefore he decided to just look at him as well. There it was again. That slightly odd and faraway glance with which Cypher sometimes looked at him. Coming from nowhere. For he couldn’t put a finger on the reason. He tried to open every drawer inside his head to fetch for that one little thing that would explain it to him and hated himself and even more the mess of his mind for not finding it right away; doomed to be a vain search always and evermore. Although the assumption lay heavy in his guts that it seemed of immense importance to unravel this mystery. Like searching for a very specific piece of a highly complex and laborious puzzle. Only that every piece had one and the same color. And they came not well-assorted in a nice box any longer, because a cat had previously swept them off the table and spread them randomly throughout the room. It was a certainty that this look was meant to be for him. Only for him. Although far away, as if moving through the past it was at the same time incredibly close. He had watched Cypher many times; simply stared at him, in his small, quirky, whimsical way, to be sure of this detail. Perhaps he had not been fully aware of it at first; just a fleeting impression quickly passing by. But it had become clearer; more unambiguous. Like blowing dust from the glass of an old picture frame. Cypher just smiled. That uncanny, meaningful and kinda nostalgic smile. Deep and soft. And Omen could feel the warmth which had settled inside him now creeping up his neck. Inch by inch. Until it bit into his cheeks. Hot. Burning. Knowing full well that he would not get a reasonable answer. At least none that was satisfying and might help him to find that one damn piece that was lying in some dusty corner, he formulated his question completely differently. Less obviously. “What are you smiling at?” Cypher didn’t answer right away. Omen knew by now that it was a rather annoying quirk; the man often did that when he was about to say something that seemed significant, at least to himself. “You.” Omen couldn’t help but meet his reply with as much disappointment as something else. Something new and exciting. He fought against the urge to roll his eyes and took a deep breath. Mostly, to avoid making a rather sarcastic reply. “Why?” He asked and realized that he sounded more confused than he intended to be. He could witness the change crossing Cypher’s face. His smile changed. And Omen instinctively knew that he was about to say something entirely different. Not far from the truth, but probably not whatever might have been going through his mind at the time he had looked at him in the first place. And Omen was not sure how to encounter this observation. “Oh I just …” Cypher began slowly. “I just remembered that you said you enjoy being around me.” He said softly. Omem just stared at him. Longer than it was probably good for him; watched the man fishing for a loose skein which had escaped his badly tied up hair. “Well …” He started, biting his lips. “If you don't stop doing that, I'll change my mind.” He quickly finished before turning away. His cheeks still burning. * Sometimes they did nothing at all and just shared and appreciated the presence of each other while being occupied with things of their own. Omen enjoyed that. Pretty much. He realized he liked the company of Cypher alone on top of everything else. To him it didn’t matter what they did together as long as the man was around. And it was bewildering to him how easy he could say that without getting the impression of sounding … weird. Or odd. Even more fascinating was the fact that Cypher never gave him the feeling of being less of everything. He simply accepted every kind of concern that found a way to crawl into his mind. I don’t like crowds … I don’t like people staring at me … I don’t … And Cypher met him with kindness, thoughtfulness and patience. Just thinking about it filled the empty place inside his heart to the brim with warmth. Sometimes it was so unbearable, he thought it hurt him. Sometimes it really hurt and he was left behind with nothing but confusion and dull gloom. Bitter, but endlessly tender. Omen assumed it was his mind reminding him of something very important. That all patience might vanish when people realize they are getting nothing in return for their time and effort. “Do you want to drink coffee with me?” Cypher asked him this morning out of the blue. Omen took his time to place down the book on the table. Since he had already read it, it started to bore him anyway. He narrowed his eyes; irritated and watched as Cypher pursed his lips at the pages now facing the surface. Chewing at his bottom lip, he had to admit that he didn’t understand the question. But at the same time he didn’t want to be seen as impolite. Furthermore, he wasn’t sure what kind of answer Cypher seemed to expect. “Do you even like coffee?” He asked in return the moment it dawned on him that he had never seen the man drinking coffee. Ever. Or maybe you just forgot it, he thought bitterly. And felt a tinge of anxiety crawling down his spine. Cypher simply looked at him. Long. Intensive. Not sure what to think about it, Omen came to the conclusion that he was about to lecture him. Even though that would be a rather unusual behavior. Then his lips turned up into a smile that was as vague as it was suggestive. “Sometimes.” He answered in a kinda mysterious tone. Omen frowned even harder. Whichever way he looked at it, he wasn’t able to squeeze some sense out of this reply. He really didn’t want to agree to something like that right away. Especially when it came out of nowhere. But he felt that he had no choice. He knew he couldn’t turn down another invitation. He had done it many times before without thinking about it. The voice inside his head tried to remind him that this time it might be his last chance. And he was afraid of the consequences he had to face if he continued to meet Cypher with nothing but refusal. Again and again. Every patience certainly would come to an end at some point. His stomach twisted at the thought alone. But then the thought crossed his mind that there was actually really nothing exciting about coffee. “Sure?” He agreed; still confused. After all, it was just coffee. Unlikely that it would kill him, if he accepted such an offer. Even if, without a doubt, the way Cypher asked about it turned out to be a bit … unsettling. Cypher gave the impression of being markedly pleased with his approval. “Very well.” He met him with a deeply joyful smile. A little too effusive for his taste. But apparently his acceptance made him so happy that Omen considered not criticizing his preposterous behavior. Let alone from uttering a word about certain doubts or objections towards his own decision. Although he was well aware that he had made it a little too hastily. Omen peeked at the cup next to him. He wished Cypher would be a bit more unambiguous. However, he was very far away from putting his demand into words. Slowly, it appeared to him that the man’s secretiveness was once more fully intended. Perhaps his plan included drawing him out so much that he saw no choice but to agree to his plan out of sheer blankness. He bit his lip at the thought and tried to forcefully push it back into the depth of which it appeared; hesitating. His glance shifted between the cup and the man in front of him. “When?” He finally dared to ask. Now? Something deep inside him told him that he was about to make a complete fool out of himself. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that he missed something very important right now. And it bothered him that in the end it would turn out to be something absolutely obvious. It seemed like Cypher needed a moment to think about his question. However, since he still had that rather exhilarated smile about him, there was no doubt for him to believe that it was a serious consideration. Omen thought to himself that maybe the man was simply toying with him for a moment; just in case he would dare to reconsider his choice and turn down his invitation in the end. “Saturday.” He finally settled for an answer. Omen tried to appraise him with an irritated look. However, he became aware quite quickly of the fact that such an attempt would come to nothing. And he felt rather silly about it. Saturday. He knitted his brows together. That was in two days. Inevitably, the question forced itself upon him as to why such a simple and unspectacular matter should be planned so far in advance. But he shied away at the idea of asking about it openly. For him, this conversation was already a pretty bizarre endeavor anyway. He was completely lost. Yet, he refused to admit it aloud. After all, he had already made it to this point without being questioned. So he probably was also able to get through the rest of this obscure conversation more or less without some kind of social embarrassment. Not quite sure what a proper response would be, he decided to meet the man with a simple shrug. “Fine.” He agreed; and tried his best to sound at least a little bit enthusiastic. He wasn’t actually averse to the whole thing. The concept itself even had something strangely promising about it. It was just the whole thing around it that was too much. Unnecessary and stuffed out. Like folding a tiny little knickknack in way too much gift wrap. Omen took a sip from his cup. Very visible and effusive; just to underline once more the ludicrousness of this entire encounter. Over the rim, he could see with staggering disillusionment how little Cypher seemed to be unaffected. Either he did not understand his humor or he really was taking this matter incredibly seriously. “Great! I’ll pick you up.” Cypher announced abruptly. He almost choked. Almost. For inside his mind the question burst into flames what the hell that was supposed to mean. He tried to keep the reflex of coughing down. Suddenly he realized that he had stumbled into something the extent of which he hadn’t fully calculated yet. Only now did he actually seem to grasp what this intent would ultimately lead to. And just at this moment, he realized that he was anything but ready for this. This was not just about coffee. This was about spending time together. Outside. The cough that was about to rise from deep inside of him turned into a small, rasping sound. Omen gasped helplessly. He struggled with finding a plausible demur that would maybe save him from this whole situation in the end. Only to find that Cypher was already gone. He had simply left him on the spot without another word. Bastard. Omen took a deep breath. He couldn’t tell if the man had done something like this out of pure malice and cold calculation or rather the coincidence had struck him at a very unlucky moment. He sighed; feeling entirely lost. He mused about whether to go after him, whether to yell at him. Whether he should explain to him as friendly as he could that maybe this was not a good idea after all. And in the end, he decided to just sit there in silence. Omen was about to pick up his book to occupy his restless thoughts with something else, when he felt another gaze resting on him. He turned around; only to realize that Sage was sitting at the end of the table. She calmly enjoyed the remains of her breakfast and just stared at him. Mild and content. “What?” He growled. Sage didn’t reply; completely unimpressed by his harsh remark. For she intuitively knew when it was inappropriate to lose a single word when it was about to ruin a good moment. She just offered a smile. Warm. Delighted. A bit proud. He felt his heart calming down. Just a bit. * Way too late did he realize how foolish his agreement had been. He could feel his fatal decision all the way to his bones. He found no sleep. His thoughts circled incessantly. More than once he had toyed with the chance of backing out, but he had always decided against it for several reasons. It wouldn’t have been fair to do so. It would have been rude. It would be a very childish act. More than anything, it was the will of not wanting to be a disappointment that kept him from canceling everything. He wanted to proof, that he was capable of doing something like this. First of all, to himself. Second of all, he was quite certain that it would upset Cypher in the end, if he failed to accomplish something so simple. Maybe. He couldn’t tell for sure. But he wouldn’t take a shot at it. Nevertheless, there was that heavy and crushing feeling every time he just thought about that upcoming day. It filled him to the brim. With nervousness. With restlessness. To the point his hands started to get cold. He sat on the front steps of the agency and wondered where this feeling came from. So intense and livid that it reminded him of the time his lungs almost melted. Oppressive and overwhelming. As if he wasn’t able to breathe no matter how hard he tried. Ready to suffocate him, if he didn’t pay enough attention. “What do you muse about, amigo?” Omen let off a heavy, resigned sigh. That was exactly what he needed right now. Right at the moment when he decided to allow himself a grain of self-pity it had to be Raze of all people who ran into him. He gritted his teeth sullenly. Maybe he could get rid of her before she determined it was the right time of day to be a pain in his neck. Not that he outright despised her. That would be a bit too much. Raze just occupied the annoying quality of being incredibly tiring. And he lacked the necessary energy to deal with her right now. “Nothing.” He spat dryly. He heard Raze stopping in her tracks. “You don’t look like it’s just nothing.” She said; openly suspicious. Omen turned his head to look at her. Even though he already knew he was about to commit his biggest mistake if he considered engaging in a conversation with her. “What gave me away?” She frowned in return. There was silence for a moment. “More gloomy than usual?” “That was a rhetorical question.” He muttered. Raze shrugged. “Whatever.” She took two more steps before she finally decided to sit down as well. “Do you wanna talk about it?” His first impulse was to tell her that she should go to hell. He didn’t want to talk about anything at all. Especially not with her. But he was quite sure that such a behavior was far away from being mature. And since he already had a rather bad reputation that included being labeled eccentric, he thought it was best to not fuel that expectation as well. “Would that make any difference?” He asked instead. He watched her raise a brow. “It does.” She said in an encouraging tone. “You know, talking helps us to make things a little easier.” Then she nipped at her cup. Not answering right away, he simply looked at her for a while in complete silence. He was convinced that her explanation wasn’t the case for her intentions. Yet, he refused to actually say that to her face to spare himself the consequences of an endless discussion about her true disposition. He sighed, defeated. “I suppose I can’t get rid of you otherwise?” He asked, slightly less obvious. Raze had this thing about her that every one of her smiles showed teeth. And it was hard to tell for him if she was sincerely kind or just teasing. Her answer spoke for itself. “Nope.” He grunted in annoyance. In return she met him with a pretty unimpressed glance of her own. Omen looked away and stared into his cup. Quite sure, that he wasn’t able to come up with some kind of excuse to get around this. “I got invited. For coffee. That makes no sense. I mean …” He paused. The more he talked, the more he was convinced how ridiculous he must sound. And the more vague he became. “Why would you invite someone for coffee? Something people do every day.” He stopped once more; indecisive if it would be a wise idea to look at her again. “It's not that special and still …” He didn't know which he found more absurd at the moment. The fact that he was not familiar with such a simple thing and that his mind was obviously not capable of drawing the right conclusions. Or the shocking fact that he was talking to Raze about it. Raze took her time to respond. He was afraid that she might be on the verge of laughing at him. He would not even hold it against her. To face all the ridicule that would instantly await him, he dared to look at her once more. She didn’t laugh. Instead, her lips curled up into a smile; amused and joyful. “You have a date.” She finally announced; utterly delighted. Omen blinked. “What?” She sighed; a mixture of bewilderment and frustration. “Cruz credo!” Then she shook her head softly in what seemed to be her kind of a mute apology. “Okay, listen.” She started once again, a bit calmer this time. “When someone invites you to coffee, it’s a date.” He couldn’t believe that he actually decided to give her words a chance to think about them. After a while, without coming to any satisfying result, he sighed. “I don’t get it.” He said while narrowing his eyes. “We are drinking coffee right now. I don’t see a difference.” Raze narrowed her eyes before she let go of an exhausted sigh. “The difference is that I don’t ask you nicely to drink coffee with me, amigo.” She said with a jubilant grin crossing her features. “It was a mistake to ask you.” Omen replied simply before turning his gaze away. From the corner of his eyes he watched her waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Não! Asking me was the best choice you ever made in your entire life.” She insisted while leaning back on the stairs. “I am an expert when it comes to dates!” Omen sipped his coffee. He took his time to eye her with a very skeptical glance and for the first time in his twisted life, he wished she could see his face. Just for once. Only to see her reaction to his obvious disapproval. “Oh really?” He asked; his voice filled with enough sarcasm that it started to sound higher than usual. Raze glared at him in return. “Well at least I am quite sure I've had more dates in my life than you, so that counts.” She grinned. He considered in a brief moment whether he would win a discussion in this regard. Then he realized with rather crushing disillusionment that he had to accept his defeat. Even if the possibility in some cosmos existed that she was wrong, he wasn’t able to remember that anyway. And the chances were high that he wouldn’t have to face this predicament in the first place if his memories would be indeed a reliable source. “I guess.” He allowed himself to sigh. “So…” Raze slowly began. “You worry that your date will be terrible?” She asked after a small pause; careful and rather cautious. He had to admit that her tone didn’t suit her at all and he mused about if she had chosen it on purpose. He came to the conclusion that it actually helped. A bit. Nevertheless, his lips twisted at her words. “Don’t call it that.” He said; already knowing that it wasn’t her change of voice that appeared to be odd to him. It was just the term on its own which bothered him. “Aw, does it make you nervous?” She asked; back at her more teasing tone. He glared at her as threatening as he was able to do. “Just … shut up.” And she did. For once. She became so unexpectedly quiet that he assumed he had actually upset her. For a while there was just silence between them. And the more time passed, he felt more and more uncomfortable. As he was finally about to apologize for his rudeness, he met her extremely serious gaze and paused. “Do you like him?” She asked. As serious as she looked. Omen was about to choke on a sip of coffee for the second time this week. This time, he spat the rest back into the cup before it even had a chance to pass his throat. “Excuse me!?” Like a lightning bolt, the question of where she got this assumption shot through his head. “You heard me.” Raze replied. “I …” Omen hesitated. He had never really thought about it before. Did he like Cypher? He spent time with him. He talked to him. He tried to answer every one of his nosy questions. He liked being around him. But maybe he just liked his company. After all, he seemed to be the only person who tolerated someone like him in his presence. And maybe he just liked the attention he got in return more than anything else. Maybe he just liked the feeling of being more than just a ghost. A shadow. He mused about whether that had been the reason for all the many times he had tried to push him out of his presence. Pure self-protection. The right to just a piece of dignity; of not running straight ahead into the dependence on someone else's sympathy. “I think so.” He replied; already knowing that wasn’t the entire truth. For this small and nasty thing, the one that gnawed at him and screamed at him and crawled through his body; that one had lingered deep inside him long before all of that. And he didn't know where it came from. But it struck him with dread to realize just at that moment that maybe it had been there for quite a while and he just hadn't noticed it until one random day. Raze looked for a second as if she expected something different. Maybe something more. He felt an unpleasant heaviness settling inside of him at the thought that he was unable to provide this more. Then she gave off a gentle nod; smiling. “And do you think he likes you as well?” It was frightening how much time he needed to think about this question. Although he could not avoid admitting that he had asked himself the same once or twice. Unwitting. Perhaps it had only been a clouded, intangible thought in the back of his mind. Always accompanied by suspicion. He thought about all the odd things this man had done for him. They had been all extremely questionable. But there was no doubt that Cypher had done anything out of pure insidious mischief. For there was no reason to do so. None that seemed to be logical. No one would put so much effort into something only to tear it down afterwards. And there was nothing to be gained from such an endeavor. Omen was already broken. There was nothing left of value that could be fixed once again. “A bit.” He finally answered. To his surprise, his reply was less deviated from the truth than he expected it to be. It was just neither completely clear nor entirely false. For he didn’t want to commit himself to one or the other. And Omen realized that he wasn’t only shying away from the disappointment that was possibly befalling him one day if he dared to allow it. But also from the tiny bit of hope that probably existed somewhere. Just a bit. That was quite enough. Raze nodded in exchange. “So if you like him and he likes you, then there’s nothing to worry about.” She stated before gulping down the rest of her coffee in one healthy sip. “It’s not that easy.” He said even before he had a chance to think about it. It was like an impulse speaking out of him which he couldn’t hold back at all. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and wondered where this reaction, so quickly and unprepared, still so full of conviction and certainty, came from. She blinked in return; probably because of how quickly he came to his conclusion. Maybe that was the reason she looked a bit confused for a second. Then she smiled once more. “Of course it is.” She stated. And before he had a chance to deny her, he felt her hand brushing his shoulder. “Get yourself a nice day. Enjoy each other a little. Fool around. It’s not that hard.” Omen felt himself freezing. Even after her hand had already disappeared. He felt his stomach twist at the afterglow she had left on the spot. And he fought against the feeling of brushing it off of him. Like dust. He swallowed. Hard. He sighed deeply as the unpleasant and dull feeling slowly started to fade away. Omen wouldn’t even have been able to find some rest if he had a healthy sleep pattern and if he had the fortune to be exhausted beyond measure. His thoughts didn’t allow him to calm down; accompanied by a recurring feeling of unease. It pulled and tugged at him, always tearing him anew into an abyss of absurd musings and nervous imaginations.  The alarm clock next to him seemed to mock him as he glanced at it.  A voice in his head told him over and over again, when he was in danger of losing himself in his preoccupation, that there was a very simple and effective solution to escape all this. He wouldn’t have to face the imponderable and insurmountable challenge. Neither did it soothe his heart nor his conscience.  But it would be so much easier.  It was probably that kind of ease, which awoke his suspicion, that he didn’t dare to listen to that voice. For that voice always tended to be nothing else than resentful and fickle. And he knew that it constantly tried to lure him into believing that he never deserved something … good .  You’re not going to cancel this day. He tried to think it as forcefully and firmly as possible, because if he said it out loud, he would probably scream. And he wasn’t even done dwelling on this thought, as his head began to fill with a variety of wild excuses; one more exceedingly convincing than the other. Even though he wouldn’t even need any of them in the end.  Cypher would never hold it against him. He would accept it silently and with unrelenting indulgence. He would meet him with sympathy and kindness. He would brush it off as being not a big deal and he wouldn’t push him to tell the truth. And he would be fabulously good at hiding his own disappointment. And he would question his rejection secretly. Exclusively for the purpose that Omen would never have to deal with remorse for his decision.  But it would be exactly what he would expect from someone like you. It crossed his mind. And the thought, even though it was probably true, stung inside his chest. Out of nowhere and painful; as if someone would pierce his inside with a needle.  He took a deep breath; felt the bandages sticking to his skin like a second, solid layer. Tugging at the thick fabric covering his neck, he observed how laborious it came off just an inch and how wet and slick his skin felt underneath it coated in sweat.  Omen groaned in frustration.  He needed a shower.  * Nothing came all at once. It was a long and toilsome process. Tedious and nasty. Bones that grew together for weeks. Organs took months to renew and started to hurt immensely when they regenerated. Sometimes he was missing one or two. A kidney. His right lung.  Skin was complex and stressful. It came in erratic episodes; proliferated and often left small but open and sore wounds. It was easily irritated, sensitive and sometimes became inflamed. Especially when he didn’t invest enough care.  Hair. Nails. Teeth. Rather unimportant. He was able to live with missing some nails. Or two teeth. Or a bald spot that just didn’t want to vanish.  He had asked himself many times what the purpose of all this effort was in the first place. He could survive without bones, skin and blood. He wondered why he even needed a body at all. He could exist as a disembodied, formless husk in reality and be nothing more than smoke and particles. But his being was constantly occupied to correct the aberration; like it tried to erase a mistake. A state that was not supposed to be and was colliding with the laws of physics. Until he again became acquainted with the incomprehensible meta level of death. After that, the cycle began anew. Always incomplete.  Omen peeled off his clothes. There was a mirror in the bathroom, which he avoided like an old enemy. He had toyed with the idea of removing it; from time to time the thought crawled back into his head, whenever he got aware of that piece of glass. But every time, it reminded him of the reason why he didn’t want to pass it and his own reflection. In case he would someday forget it.  Once he had seen himself in such a mirror. Under cold, pale neon light in the depths of secluded darkness; isolated and caged . An ugly sight that had burned itself inside his head like the image on the lens of a camera and leaving a dark spot. If he wanted, he could grab it out of the opaque fog of his mind as if it were still fresh and a few days old. The image of sick, pale skin. Of chapped, bloodless lips. Of dead eyes staring back from empty sockets into endless nothingness. A ghost. A monster.  Over time, this image had faded; surreal and remote. Sometimes he thought he had never experienced it, because it was incomprehensible and repulsive to encounter the realization that it was himself. Not a stranger. Him . Different. Deformed. Haunting. It lurked in the abysses of his memories. There were days when he forgot it completely. Then only the dull, unpleasant feeling remained. When he passed a mirror. When he looked into a puddle. When he saw himself being reflected in a window. When he realized that people looked at him, that people were able to see and notice him and what they would see. In him. Then it was there again; torn out of the chaos of his existence. A tiny, broken piece of a life once lost.  He took a pair of scissors and hesitated for a moment. It would probably hurt. A lot. But it was faster than unwrapping the layers covering his skin. And he needed to change the bandages anyway. They started to feel as uncomfortable as any other fabric he couldn’t stand since he constantly reused them. He would like to change them on a more regular basis; he knew that it would be better for his skin in the long run if he did so. But he couldn’t even take a shower on a regular basis. Or change his clothes. Or wash his dishes.  Omen wondered who would actually go to the trouble, to deal with the mess of him. He couldn’t even deal with himself. He couldn’t take care of himself. He couldn’t even look at himself. There were so many nasty secrets hidden deep inside of him. No one would actually like to reveal them one by one; digging deeper. Only to find out that he was indeed as broken as everyone already assumed.  There was the urge again to give in to the impulse to come up with an excuse to escape the coming day. To run away and after that cutting all ends. It would have been a nice little experience; something to enjoy for a while, only to realize that he wasn't worth it after all. He pushed it away by cutting into the thick tissue around his neck. He felt the fabric coming loose. Piece by piece; exposing skin.  Omen didn't like looking at himself but he had to acknowledge that he couldn't avoid it completely. He caught glimpses of his own body whenever he had to face this task; whenever it occurred to him that he needed to put at least a little bit of effort into personal hygiene. Maybe it was the very reason why he tried his best to prolong the unpleasant experience. He hated every single moment. He hated how his skin looked under artificial light and didn’t even dare to imagine what it would look like under the bare sun. He hated the feeling; how it bent and flexed when he moved. He hated the texture; the softness.  Sometimes it was such an extreme feeling that he couldn't even stand his own fingers touching him. Everything was just too much. Overwhelming. Itching and burning. And scratching. And sometimes Omen couldn’t feel a single thing. Not the cold hitting the wet coat of sweat. Not the heat of boiling hot water. He was just numb and empty.  Heedlessly, he threw the remains of the bandages into a corner and turned on the water until it steamed. Today Omen felt nothing.  And he was grateful for that. He hated showers.  But he had to come to the conclusion that he had no way to escape them if he didn’t want to feel like a moldy yogurt left in the sun. It occurred to him that he would have to shower even more, if he considered continuing to join Cypher in his morning workout.  He frowned at that.  It was an absurd thought that he didn’t entirely exclude to spend time with this man. Yet, at the same time something inside him refused to do just that. He searched for the crucial difference that would tell him what separated one thing from the other. What was the difference between coffee and jogging ? The obligations and expectations that were associated with it. Or the fact that for this, contrary to his nature, he would be forced to be among people.  He would blame Raze for this if it weren't for the fact that this matter had already worried him anyway. The only thing she had done was ... She had made it worse .  Now he was thinking that he had to meet and fulfill expectations. Now he was worried that he wouldn’t accomplish anything else but disappointment. Presumably he could have come to terms with being outside; being in public. He would also have come to terms with Cypher's peculiar behavior, because in the end, that was just his extremely eccentric personality. Now he was concerned that he would fail at something he didn’t even know the rules about. And it worried him that it would mean for him, if he did not manage to make it good and enjoyable.  Omen blinked away water that was about to drip into his eyes. He became aware of two things at once.  The first thing was that there was no way for him to escape this situation. He had turned down invitations in the past way too often. He felt that this could be his very last chance. Another one would not find its way to him. And he was more afraid of making false promises again than of anything that would come his way.  The second thing was …  He liked Cypher. And he was afraid of losing him. * The morning came with a leaden gray of heavy clouds. The temperature had dropped almost 20 degrees and a thick, heavy mugginess hung in the air.  Three times Omen had played with the idea to cancel this encounter. Three times he had convinced himself that it would lead to nothing and three times he had reconsidered. He was far from being a child who fled from the simplest things. Even if the tension that befell him was as oppressive as the air that stood between the rows of houses. Dark thoughts had been brewing in his head. He had imagined what it would mean for him if this day went badly. But he had also weighed what it would mean if he was proven wrong in the end and his fears did not come true.  He had a lot of time to do that. From the early hours until the midmorning. Because Cypher, contrary to all expectations, was keeping him waiting.  Whereas waiting was the wrong word, because he had not given him a precisive time. And to his excuse, Cypher could hardly have known that he had an extremely precarious sleep rhythm, one that was almost non-existent. He needed distraction. Because sitting around and just waiting, he felt, was highly desperate and at least as pathetic. And when he took a look inside the almost empty wardrobe and was disillusioned to see that the contents of it now covered the floor, he came to the conclusion that perhaps it was time to do something about the untenable chaos. Pretty reluctant and with gritted teeth.  When he finally came, he didn't need clear skies. Cypher was the sun. He was unwavering and radiant. A little overwhelming and so incredibly compelling. For a tiny moment, fear gripped Omen. It was so great that he was on the verge of slamming the door again. And maybe, just maybe jump out the window. None of this he did. He just stared at him. “Good morning, my–” Cypher stopped. He narrowed his eyes in sudden disbelief. “What are you doing?”  Omen blinked. He cast a fleeting glance into the room behind him before staring at the man again. “Cleaning.” He answered. It sounded a little doubtful and therefore more like a question than a statement. For he was no longer completely convinced about his own actions. He had thought that it would have been a good idea to pass the time; it would also have been highly productive. And maybe it would have even proven that there was something like good will in him. But now, as absurd as that sounded, because it didn’t seem to be anything so fundamentally irrational and entirely erroneous, he started to question his decision.  Maybe it was just due to the image he gave off; that someone like him would least be expected to do such a thing. Omen remembered the dishes and how he had decided to wash them at a very inappropriate early time. And perhaps this situation was a very similar one. For the future, he should find out when normal people used to do their housework. Then he would stumble less into these unpleasant encounters. In response, Cypher sighed. “Not on a Saturday !” He said; quite indignant.  Omen stared at him. For a long time. And didn’t dare to ask what the day of the week had to do with all of this.  * Either Omen was plainly undressed or Cypher turned out to be extremely overdressed. And he hoped for the latter. Otherwise he would have put a little more thought into his appearance aside from taking a shower. Yes, I wore this yesterday. No, I don’t care about it. Not that much. He tried to convince himself.  Still, he had to admit that he was even a little grateful about Cypher's extroverted fashion sense. Next to him, he was just a shadow. Unseen. Unnoticed. In the middle of the crowd he got completely devoured and blessed with the absence of unwanted attention. Probably, he would have been overwhelmed if he had felt the slightest, suspicious glance resting upon him. He would have turned on his heels way before he had reached the end of the street; feeling the heavy pressure tearing him to shreds between derisive whispers and detest glimpses. The world was already cruel enough; an anomaly that tore a hole in the possibilities of human physics was something way too hard to deal with, he assumed.  He wondered if in the end it had been nothing more than a simple intention on Cypher's part to express his flamboyant taste. However, Omen also didn't want to give him too much of the providence, which he may not have possessed in the end. Even though to deny the man’s quite empathetic sense had already been proven to be difficult.  Nevertheless, he couldn't reject the uneasy feeling that settled inside him and that he knew would ruin his day if he didn't push it away.  The uncertainty that befell him made him nervous. At the same time, he felt incredibly silly. For there was no universe in which Raze, of all people, should be right in her assumption. For the future he took it upon himself to remember this very uncomfortable feeling. Whenever he was about to follow one of her bad pieces of advice. Omen was familiar with only two ways he knew how to handle conflicts and unsolvable problems. Avoidance. And sarcasm. And because it was probably quite inappropriate and not necessarily socially accepted to just run away on the open street, he chose the latter as his best option. “So white is your color.”  Next to him, Cypher blinked. If he had set out to draw the man out, he had unfortunately overshot the mark by a long way. It was clear to see that he either didn't understand his side blow or simply ignored it. "What gives you that idea?”  It irritated him immensely how much cheerfulness a single person could contain. Cypher seemed to be markedly exuberant. If he hadn’t witnessed the slightest hint of this odd behavior two days ago, it would have made him unsettled and suspicious. Now, unfortunately, Omen had to admit that, although highly unusual, it was also a bit amusing. He hoped that a tiny part of this effusively excitement was able to leap at him as well. Just a bit. For a few seconds. He would like how it felt to be … happy .  There was a bitterness tearing at him from deep within. It came with the unavoidable question why he was not able to accept something good. He asked himself why his mind circled around every bit of concern. Was he really trapped that deeply in his own pathetic self-pity that he consistently manipulated himself? Was he truly convinced that he didn’t deserve any kind of joy and therefore had to make sure to deny himself every chance of it? Did he really think truly of himself being worthless?  He balked at continuing to deal with these questions, like a cat from the rain.  Instead he made an exaggerating movement with his head while giving Cypher one more critical look; just to underline the hint of obvious mockery. “Oh I don’t know?” He replied in a toying voice.  Cypher glanced at him for a long moment. Then he chuckled softly.  Omen felt his lips twitching into a brief smile.  * “That’s disgusting.” “Seems like you have no taste, dear.” “Even I know that pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza. It’s a crime against humanity.”  With some horror Omen had to realize that his worst apprehension had actually come true.  Cypher drank his coffee with milk. And sugar.  A lot of sugar, to be precisive.  The sight alone was enough to give him a toothache. Omen had always wondered why people drank coffee at all when they so obviously didn't like it at all. He doubted, however, that he would get an answer to this question in the near future.  It was quiet in the café because there were not many people around. Who goes for a coffee at 9 o'clock on a Saturday anyway? To his surprise, this made everything a little easier. After all, his biggest worry had been that he would feel uncomfortable in the midst of people. Now he felt what he called relief, and it took away a part of such an incredibly heavy burden. It allowed him to get involved in this situation; to enjoy it a little. Omen came to the conclusion that he didn't care about other people and that they probably didn't care about him either. The only person who counted for him was the one who was sitting in front of him at that moment. And for just this Omen wanted to be there fully and completely. Moreover, he realized with a mixture of pride and amazement that he wasn't an absolute disaster when it came to social interaction. He had just been out of practice. And he would thank Cypher endlessly for trying his best. For he talked. He talked a lot.  “You’re a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” “I think …” Omen began. “I don’t trust the judgment of someone who drinks their coffee with milk and sugar.” Cypher curled his lips into a playfully sad expression. “You hurt my feelings.”  Omen placed the cup down and tipped at the brim with one of his fingers. He was quiet for a while; lingering on a thought that had bothered him for the last few days. “I wonder …” He started carefully. “Why did you want to meet me … here ?” He didn't want to ask about it. He had the feeling that he was about to ruin something that was very ... precious.  Yet, he failed to completely let go of it and brush it off as nothing special. For him it was special. Cypher took the time to melt the sugar in his coffee. He caught himself how the movement of his hands distracted him and forced himself to tear his eyes from the sight.  “I wanted to get to know you better.” He answered while placing the spoon carefully aside.  Omen was a little disappointed that he didn't lick it. Then he quickly discarded the thought with blossoming confusion and made an effort to follow his words.  “And you can’t run away from me here.” He added with a mischievous smirk.  Sometimes Omen was glad about the little detail that other people weren’t able to see his face. He could give them the nastiest glare and they wouldn’t even notice. But right now, he wished the man could see his face; only to make sure that he wasn’t really fond of his remark. Even though he knew that it maybe was just a really bad joke. In which there was probably a grain of truth. Omen wouldn’t run away so easily. But the possibility would be quite tempting. Better?  He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know anything about me.” He said and was surprised that he sounded more confused than angry. Omen didn’t even know things about himself. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that someone else pretended to know anything about him. He didn’t even know his own name. Or his birthday. His age. The kind of stuff that were fundamentally the basics of every human being.   Cypher seemed unimpressed by his statement. He looked at him in a highly odd manner. Something that gave off the assumption that he was about to reveal something that would be equally unexpected and intriguing. And he made no deal about hiding his excitement. Omen didn’t know if he liked that look. It made him feel as nervous as it was able to trap him in some kind of unknown and weird variety of curiosity.  He watched how his lips curled up into a knowing smile. “I know a few things about you.” Cypher stated; cheerfully and mysterious.  And Omen could only have misheard, because he believed that there was a little pride lingering in his voice. A very small bit.  He blinked. Waiting for a response, he observed Cypher drinking his coffee in silence.  Then he knitted his brows in frustration when he finally realized that the man wasn’t going to explain his words any further.  He let off a small sigh; hesitating. “What would that be?” He tried to sound annoyed to hide his underlying tone of impatience and slowly rising interest. Omen had to admit that he really wanted to know what the man claimed to know about him. If only for the satisfaction of finally being able to tell him how incredibly wrong he was.  “Let’s see …” Cypher began slowly while facing him over the brim of his cup. He took his time to celebrate this moment. Maybe he thought of it being some kind of glorious victory. "I know that you like to read. You like to draw. Even though I can't tell exactly what you draw because for some reason you won't let me look at your sketchbook. And the whole agency probably knows about your taste in music. At least judging by the volume.” He stopped, to place his cup down. “And you knit.” He added with a soft smile.  Omen remained silent. He didn't know what to say in response and whether he wanted to say anything at all. There was an engaging, overwhelming emptiness in his head, which was filled with nothing but astonishment and an unknown, strange feeling, which he couldn’t name yet. It was a comforting and balmy warmth that climbed from the depths of his cold being up into his cheeks. Like something that warmed from the inside out on a freezing winter day. Sweet and mellow. Like hot chocolate.  His heart beat faster. And because he feared that he would knock over the cup in front of him, he carefully let go of it with trembling hands. He remained silent for quite a while. Maybe it was only a few seconds, but it seemed incredibly long to him. Cypher was right; he couldn’t deny that and something inside him was quite willing to allow him this confirmation as well. But he guessed that maybe his own silence was already enough indication.  Likewise, he didn't know what response would be appropriate enough; he feared anything he might say would not come close to the feeling he was experiencing at the moment. And he feared it would fade as quickly as it had come upon him. Even before he would have the chance to give it some space and be able to accept it; to name it. All he could say for sure was that it felt good; it was pleasant and made him feel a little lighter in a very strange way. He felt the smile that made its way onto his features. “Are you spying on me?” He finally asked; soft and free from hostility or suspicion. Both things that would normally urge him into asking such a question. He wondered about the origin of his own behavior, but attributed it to the feeling stirring within him and that, what appeared to be the first time, ensured that he was not looking for some dark ulterior motive; he was not in danger of losing himself in brooding. Omen realized that he could accept things innocuously. And perhaps it was this tiny touch of mirth that made him joke. Him . Joking . Unbelievable.  Cypher furrowed a brow. Whether out of indignation or bewilderment, he couldn’t tell. Maybe it was something in between. “No.” He insisted with a firm and persuasive tone. Then the smile found its way back onto his face; clearly softer and less effusive than before. “We spend time together.” He explained. “And I like watching you.” The soft and mellow feeling changed; it shifted rapidly. The warmth he had felt before swelled to an odd heat. Not the kind that would be unbearable and vicious. Rather light and prickeling. But he felt very tiny under it. Like he was shrinking to the size of a tea cup. And feared he would drown in it.  He licked his lips nervously.  “Well …” Omen began as he tried to quickly catch himself. “I know a few things about you as well.” He replied; mainly defending and born out of necessity that he did not want to think about this topic any longer and even less to discuss it. The thought of this man watching him tickled something inside him. And he wished that feeling would vanish.  “Oh really?” Cypher asked. It almost sounded like he was chirping gleefully. Almost.  He realized his mistake much too late, when he abruptly realized that he had made his statement very rashly and more on impulse. Now he faced the challenge of giving an accurate answer.  Omen licked his lips once more. “You are nosy, pushy and … insufferable.” Then he paused. He heard that small voice inside his head, trying to remind him that he was about to meet honesty with nothing more than resentment. Only because he felt outdone in something that wasn’t even a competition to begin with.  Cypher had done nothing wrong. He had just noticed many, many little things; things that had caught his eye. And Omen didn't know what he found so hard about simply allowing it to happen. Opening his heart to it; to accept it.  But he knew he was about to be unfair if he didn't meet him with the same sincerity. “I bet you are the kind of person who likes dogs more than cats.” He started once more. “You probably think Soft Rock is good. I assume you don't drink because you hate the taste. Your handwriting is terrible. And on top of it, you don’t like horror movies.” His gaze once again fell on his hands. He had watched them more than his face. A lot. He knew them better than anything else.  This little silver band had been the very first thing he had noticed. Maybe that was exactly why he had started looking at him in the first place. It had caught his attention from far away. Shiny. Shimmering under the bright sun.  And you’re married. He thought, but refused to add it out loud.  “Impressive.”  His voice pulled him back into reality. Just as he was about to continue that endless spiral of thoughts which this little, harmless detail had started to unroll out of nowhere. Omen forced himself to look at his eyes, ignoring his hands and the ring. And everything that was hidden with it.  He was met with a warm smile. “You’re right. All of that is true.” Then Cypher remained silent for a moment before he added: “Except for one thing. I love horror movies.”  Bluntly, he looked at him suspiciously. “Then we have something in common.” He couldn’t imagine this with the best will in the world and makes no secret of hiding it. Unfortunately, the tone of his voice revealed that he was indeed a little bit astounded about this confession.  Cypher rolled his eyes. “Oh no, how terrible!”  “Are you teasing me?” He asked with narrowed eyes.  There was a smug grin that briefly flitted across his face. “Just a bit.” It vanished quickly. Cypher twisted his lips into something that was undoubtedly a pout. “You called me insufferable. Naughty .”  Omen felt a shiver running down his spine. It was just there. He couldn’t tell where it came from and he was highly irritated by it. He took a deep breath. “It’s true.” He insisted. He watched him carefully as his face turned into a serious expression. “If I am actually this obnoxious, why are you even here, hmh?” Cypher asked. He didn’t sound upset because there was that serene tone coming from him.  But it was enough to unsettle Omen. “I …” He began hesitantly. In his mind flickered for a moment the memory of how this encounter had come true in the first place. How utterly strange the whole conversation had been to him. How it still confused him. He tried to be honest at least. “I got invited and I tried to be polite.”  The serious expression didn't pass and he was worried about it. He worried that he had said something wrong; something of which he was unable to recognize what it could be and the man didn't want to hear.  “And why do you try to be polite to someone you don’t even like?”  “I didn’t say that. I–” Omen bit his lip.  “You?” Cypher pressed on. There was something about his voice that he didn't like because it reminded him of mockery. but it wasn't exactly as mordant and mean. It was far more gentle and affectionate. Something he failed to define and that made his hands shaky.  “Nothing.” He muttered under his breath. And while he said it, he forced himself to not look away. Even though the urge was almost ripping him apart and his cheeks felt like they had caught fire.  He saw the corner of his mouth twitching. “So you do like me!”  Omen wanted to say something in response. He wanted to say that this was not true. But he had to realize very quickly that trying to deny it was wrong. And even if he had found the courage to say something, he didn’t get the chance to do it; he could not bring himself to do it. He didn't dare to say anything.  For Cypher was looking at him again with that soft smile; that slightly uncanny and meaningful smile. The kind of smile when someone was very far away and very close at the same time. Very close.  And Omen finally realized why he had trouble looking at this smile; why he always felt so warm and yet so uncomfortable when this man looked at him this way; why it had the power to make him silent and why he wanted to be wrapped inside it.  It felt like being touched. The rain didn’t come. He had strongly expected that the heavy gray sky would finally break open and pour gallons of water over the city. He had felt that it was going to happen. It would have fit. A miserable ending for an unbelievable morning. Too good to be true.  He was familiar with the feeling of being on the very edge of something enjoyable; something incredible. High and full of delight. Before it suddenly crumbled down into ruins. He had felt something like that before. Once. There was no image attached to it. It was just a strong and distinct emotion. And he knew that if he would dare to dig deeper, he would find something else connected to it. A smell. A certain noise. Nothing that would help to put the pieces together. Like a weathered note with a word written on it of which he was unable to read.  But he couldn’t just shake it off; let it pass by in hope it would vanish on its own. He was unable to simply take this tiny note, crumble it up and throw it carelessly away as if it didn't matter. His thoughts circled around it since he had found it buried deep inside his head and whatever word was written on it, he needed to know about it.  Even though he would face nothing else than the dark emptiness inside his mind and there would only be this mute and dull feeling sticking to him in the end. Something between misery and bitterness. Related, but not the same. Something that was born out of pure disillusion and that only existed with the purpose to trouble him deeply. Something that was rooted with the mere core of his existence; almost intimate to the point of just giving into it whenever it called from within. He knew it was there to remind him of something important. Something essential. For it only crawled out of its dark corner in a moment like this. When it was bright and radiant around him. When he allowed himself to feel something good .  It was entirely different from the little, pesky thing that usually nested inside him. It wasn’t quiet and didn’t bother to whisper in the dark; didn’t advise him to be more careful and had no interest in simply filling him to the brim with doubts. It didn’t gnaw at him piece by piece and didn’t feed on his anger and resentment. It was loud, overwhelming and shattering. Just a giant, crushing wave that washed everything away and left him only numb and hollow.  Omen did not know where it came from; why it visited him so unexpectedly and what it demanded of him. But he was very sure that it had nothing to do with the rain. Nothing at all.  “Would you like to have lunch with me?” Only leisurely, he was pulled back into reality. His voice didn’t tear roughly at him; it just tugged softly at the edges of his thoughts. Careful. Almost gentle. It took him a moment to fully comprehend that he was not completely alone.  Cypher was here. He was right next to him. The entire time on their way back home.  They simply just hadn’t talked. For what appeared to him to be an hour. Or two. An eternity. Even though he knew that it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes.  Maybe it had been this silence; rapidly dragging him down into the deep abyss of his own worries. The mere reason why he had found himself being wrapped up into the heavy and gray blanket of this crushing feeling. Omen felt concern spiking inside him. Hot and piercing like a needle stabbing the back of his neck. He tried to shake it off and felt a shiver running down his spine.  He needed a moment to come up with an answer that was not dripping with rejection. Simply declining his invitation felt rude to him. But he felt incredibly tired. A common kind of exhaustion that was familiar; following him through his entire existence. At the same time he didn’t want to come off as disappointing.  Omen felt torn; unable of what to do.  He caught himself chewing at the inside of his cheek and stopped immediately. “I think …” He slowly began; trying his best to fetch for words. Although his head had nothing satisfying to offer. “That would be a little bit too much.” He tried carefully. It was not supposed to be just a simple excuse. Omen really thought that an offer like that would go quite a bit too far. At least for one day. There was an unpleasant feeling slowly approaching him; telling him that he was about to receive more than he deserved in the first place. And the last thing he wanted was to be seen as … needy . He lacked a better word. But it came close to the ghost that was about to haunt his mind.  Cypher didn’t reply right away. He just stared at him, raising a brow. His face shifted into a rather critical expression. Omen wondered if it was due to concern or worry.  Or simply the nasty intuition to just know when something wasn’t right. Some people had a pretty unnerving talent to develop a sense to notice the smallest things; being able to distinguish between the slightest change of mood. He hoped Cypher didn’t turn out to be that sensitive. The idea of this man knowing the tiniest detail about his inner conflicts scared him.  Even more he was scared of the possibility that he would go so far and ask him about it.  Are you alright? He heard the words ringing inside his ears.  Omen wouldn’t even know if he was able to answer something like that all. Without lying. Instead, he just watched as his lips turned into a soft smile. He blinked at the unexpected change in confusion. “When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t wrapped up in plastic?” Cypher asked with a noticeable tinge of tease.  Omen felt the corner of his mouth twitch in return; the urge to twist them into pouting lingering upon them. Like an odd reflex. He wondered if it was caused by the tone of voice reaching him or the mocking question alone. Maybe it was a mixture of both.  He weighed his options carefully. Although, he could easily answer his remark. I don’t know. It was the first thing crossing his mind. But it was also very far away from the truth. Omen knew . He was able to remember the exact moment; he could even start to imagine it, when he tried hard enough to force the memory to rise from the cloudy depths. Bright and clear.  It had been the time when Cypher had visited him. He had brought him soup.  Omen felt his lips curling into a weak smile.  Thoughtfully, he narrowed his eyes. Had this been a week ago? Two weeks? Did it even matter in the end when he already came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t dare to admit it? For a feeling of nervousness was about to sneak up on him as he tried to consider revealing this detail. After all, it was his pride which would never allow him to show this level of sincerity.  He was a walking mess. Only the chaos inside his mind surpassed the one constantly surrounding him. He couldn’t completely avoid the people around him from noticing his unsteady state of existence. It was omnipresent to some extent. But he could make sure that none of them got a chance to look closer. Deeper . He could assure that no one would ever see how utterly incapable he was in managing the most basic things of life. Like eating or sleeping.  Omen licked his lips and avoided his gaze; knowing that his silence alone was by far answer enough. Yet, he felt the urge to come up with at least something of which he hoped was convincing; reassuring. “I am not hungry.” He said; aiming for a neutral tone. In the end, it wasn’t a lie.  When he was honest to himself, he felt nothing at all. At least right now.  Everything good he had felt today seemed to be so far away at the moment; as if it had already happened a very long time ago and slowly started to fade into the murky darkness of his mind. Out of nowhere he felt so incredibly disconnected. Like his entire existence had been carved out only to be tossed out to rot at a roadside.  He tried to push the numbness back from where it came from; felt how the emptiness was filled with something else instead. Less heavy and overwhelming, but equally devastating. It grew with the thought forming inside him that he didn’t even want to feel in such a way.  His gaze was still resting on him. He could feel it crawling under his skin. Hesitantly, he met his eyes. It was hard to read anything in his face. Cypher was good at this kind of game; to pretend he hadn’t a single clue about him trying to sneak around the truth and avoiding the outcome of this whole conversation at any cost. And he had to admit that the man was even better in hiding any kind of attempt that would include his personal response.  He watched his lips as they turned into an indulgent smile; wondering if something was indeed forming inside his mind that wanted to leave his mouth and if he had simply decided against it.  “Would you change your mind if I tell you that I’ll cook for you?” He asked. Still caught in this unusual cheerful manner. Like there was nothing made that was able to unsettle him in the slightest. The kind of person who was very rare to find; someone who simply stared at him and without a single word made him understand that he was ready to fight his demons for him. Someone who simply chose to be happy. Someone who was trying to meet his eyes to just tell him that he didn’t need to be happy as well. For Cypher had enough for both of them.  Omen suppressed a sigh.  He knew Cypher had nothing to do with the feeling taking hold of him. It was something being a part of himself. Something that had emerged from the depths of his countless inabilities. It held him hostage; always ready to lead him into just another dead end in the turmoil of his thoughts. He hated to come to terms with the realization that he felt utterly helpless whenever he tried to encounter it; how it was so easily able to push him down.  But he would hate himself even more if he just allowed it to win.  “You would really do that?” He asked in return and failed to hide the small portion of astonishment sneaking into his voice. The thought alone of someone else taking the long run just because of him did something to him. He failed to name it right away; he just felt it. Like he was about to crack open and whatever he had tried to contain hidden deep inside him was about to drip out of his insides. Not everything at once. Just a little bit.  He didn’t need to ask himself whether the man in front of him would do something like this just out of pure sincerity. He already knew the answer to that. Cypher had done something very similar like this before. And he was openly offering to do it once more.  For a moment, he observed how the smile on his face started to crumble. Cypher raised a brow and met him with a highly puzzled expression. It didn’t last longer than a few seconds. “Of course.” He insisted. His voice was filled with this significant tone of mild and playful indignation.  Omen blinked; confused about his response. He pressed his lips together and couldn’t help his thoughts from starting to aimlessly circling once more. There were moments when he was so utterly thankful for the fact that people weren’t capable of reading his face. Otherwise, he knew that he would make a complete fool out of himself right now. Only for not understanding what the man was trying to tell him with his odd emphasis. He assumed that maybe he had been a bit offensive in the first place. After all, his mind still came up with all varieties of suspicion to deny his offerings. Although he should finally come to terms with the acknowledgement that Cypher would gladly do this or that for him. Just for him. Just because .  If he would just simply give him a chance.  His confusion seemed not to simply just pass by without being noticed. He assumed that Cypher himself gradually began to realize how misleadingly his reply had turned out. For a brief moment, he looked at him in an almost apologizing manner. Then his lips curled up into another smile; there was something soothing about it. And something else that he couldn’t unravel no matter how hard he tried.  “I like cooking for you.” Cypher finally added. To his ears it sounded almost like a confession. And he did not know how to meet the pleasant feeling of his sincerity in any other way than to smile as well. In this moment, something very crucial was about to finally unreveal before him. Simply trying to accept a person by tolerating and putting up with them was not enough. He slowly began to warp his mind around the concept that there was so much more to it; that it demanded of him giving something in return and taking risks. He had to be complaisant. He needed to give Cypher a room to exist right inside his small and chaotic life; allow him to take care of him. If he truly wanted this man to know that he actually liked him, Just a little bit … more .  Unfortunately, his realization came to a quick end due to an equally decisive circumstance. He hadn’t learned one very important thing in his entire life. Or maybe he had forgotten about it as well like so many other things. Yet, forgotten things came at least with the handy advantage of not feeling totally foreign. More like he was searching in the dark for something very specific and just couldn’t find it. Something he had never learned however felt like he was trying to grab into complete darkness and being bitten in return.  And he was sure that little thing was going to bite more than once. Over and over again. Until he finally managed to drag it out of the dark.  He had never learned how to open up to people.  The thought seemed to be a bit too ridiculous for his own taste. He quickly tried to push it away. But deep down he knew he would find all the reasons he needed to feed even such a preposterous idea. He just avoided going down those steps. Like the stairs to a dusty old basement. He was sure that down there lay hidden all the justifications that made him shy away from trying at all. And maybe he was buried down there too. Or maybe just the part that made him human.  Omen didn’t want to be just the remains of himself.  He allowed himself to sigh deeply.  “Well …” He slowly began and stopped right away as he got aware that he had no clue of how to approach his words. Everything that came to his mind felt not proper enough. Like he had trapped himself between the emptiness inside his head and the need to reply; unable to turn into a certain direction. He counted the seconds as time went by. His own mind appeared to him as if he was swimming through murky, oozy water. Opaque and blurred. Very slowly, almost viscous and thick, it started to drip into his consciousness that maybe it really didn’t matter what he said in the end. The only important thing was that he managed to say something at all; making his very first step. Out of the diffuse mire that ruled his thoughts. “In that case…” He started once more. “I guess I have no other choice than to obey.”  He caught himself being amazed by his own reply. Not only for how easily he had reached for it. But also that he had found something aside from avoidance and sarcasm to meet what he feared to be an uprising conflict; mostly with himself. Something completely new and different. At the moment, he didn’t know if he would like it. He was just glad that it was there when he needed it the most. And that was good enough.  A wave rushed over him. Balmy and mellow. And it took him a moment to fully comprehend that it was his own pride slowly forming inside his stomach into a warm knot; far away from the cold and dismissive hardness he always encountered when it tried to reach out to him. He let it happen almost naturally and felt the corner of his mouth tingling in response the longer he allowed the pleasant feeling to linger.  His eyes almost blatantly sought his gaze. Only to be met with this odd and very satisfied smile he had already witnessed before. “Good boy.” Cypher replied. There was a certain tone caught in his voice; something very deep and irritating that he couldn’t place, but still managed to pinch him into his cheeks. Hot and blooming.  Omen blinked in silence and turned away;  in hope it would calm down the unfamiliar heat that was about to crawl from his face down his neck. “Shut up.” He snapped  before turning on his heels.  Behind him he heard his soft chuckle.  * When Omen had said that he wasn’t hungry it hadn’t been a lie. Hunger approached him very rarely. He could live a couple of days without eating anything at all. Until he reached a certain point; it felt like tripping and the need clawed deeply into him. In moments like that he found himself devouring whatever he could find in a short amount of time. Rampant. Uncontrollable. Greedy. Until the emptiness inside of him finally felt satisfied enough to leave him alone once more.  But it seemed that human evolution had created a direct link over centuries to trigger the vegetative nervous system as soon as garlic was roasted in oil. His stomach betrayed him instantly as the smell crawled inside his nose. The rumbling sound that went through him was so intense it almost hurt. He felt the cold of realization running down his spine as he got aware of the thought that it also might have been heard. Loud .  He tried to cover up the treacherous noise acting against his will by clearing his throat. “What are you going to cook?” He asked, half-curious. It was the first thing popping into his mind. Mostly to save himself from the warm feeling of embarrassment washing over him than anything else. For he had no time to come up with something more intelligent and clever. And he was quite sure that it barely mattered whatever the man would answer. Omen was pretty hopeless and utterly lost when it came to cooking.  Cypher paused in his doing to look at him in silence. His face lighted up into a secretive, nearly promising expression. “Are you up for surprises?” He replied with a toothless grin forming on his features.  Not really . He heard the voice ringing inside his head.  Omen narrowed his eyes. He actually had no valid reason to react so immediately  dismissively. When he took his time to think about it, he wasn’t the type to be known for being very picky when it came to eating. Food didn’t play a very essential role in his life. He was practical. It had to be done quickly and needed to be easy to obtain. Everything else was decorative. Aside from the common exceptions which everyone possessed in some case or another. The chances were high that he would dodge mushrooms. Even though he couldn’t remember if he really thought of them being disgusting or just something that his mind tried to tell him to claim back some sort of reliability for himself; something he could get a grasp on. But the thought alone of actually being forced to eat them made his lips twitch in aversion.  Still, something bothered him. And it didn’t take him that long to figure out that the cause of his suspicion was rooted in Cypher’s odd and secretive nature; the way he had phrased something so ordinary and mundane.  With disillusionment he found that his own distrust was not only unfounded but also inappropriately dramatic. His doubts turned out to lead him to highly absurd and outright ridiculous places. Gradually, he began to understand that listening to them wasn’t always good for him. Unless he intended to be a complete fool.  This man was just trying to be nothing else but admirably kind to him.  Because he liked him.  He was so far to accept that. For he didn’t want his thoughts to circle around the same old disbeliefs. The ungracious voice in his head would never leave him alone unless he learned to simply accept this truth. It would continue to haunt him until the end of his days. And he believed that he would have many days ahead of him, given the fact that he always rose from the dead. Cypher liked him .  For reasons unknown.  But it was undeniable that it was born of something other than sincere sympathy. Omen did not have enough fingers to count all the things in favor of it. And it wasn't just about coffee and spending time together. It had nothing to do with how Cypher was willing to cook for him or how he offered his assistance. It was something else. Something more important. Something he was unable to wrap his mind around. He knew it was there. Somewhere right in front of him. He was just unable to see it.  He sighed. “I guess.” And gave off a casual shrug just in case.  Cypher looked at him a little longer. Without saying a single word. Then he nodded and decided that the pan next to him needed a bit of attention.  He toyed with the idea of whether it was appropriate and courteous to offer him some kind of his help. However, he quickly decided against this thought when he realized what kind of disaster this might lead to. And he did not want to show his most disastrous side so soon. Especially since he was sure that his help might be completely out of place. Not because it was not wanted, but because Cypher had been very clear in making even him understand that he was agreeing to cook for him out of pure sincerity. Just because he liked him. He knew that he would need a lot of time to fully comprehend this unknown concept.  He also had to admit that he liked watching him. Out of pure curiosity, he told himself. He thought there was nothing eerie about it to confess that it sparked his interest to simply observe his movements.  It was less about the way of what he did; he hadn’t a single inkling about anything of such things. Omen was convinced that he would be capable of fundamentally defying the laws of physics if he ever dared to explore these unknown fields. Something completely devastating and inept. Like managing to scorch plain water.  It was about how he did all those tasks; that’s what caught his attention above anything else. For he wasn’t interested in what the man would mix together from nothing but scratch, but he couldn’t deny that it was fascinating to just watch him doing so. It seemed so entirely chaotic and reckless; the challenge of handling three things at the same time and balancing every single one of them on a very thin line. How he was so fast and how everything seemed to be born from calculation and mere practice. How he thoughtfully tied his hair together and how it was able to completely change his entire appearance. The stoic and concentrating look on his face. His hands and how they moved … Getting aware of the fact that he was straight up staring at him and slowly comprehending the realization that Cypher must have noticed that he was doing so, he hastily looked away. He felt warmth quickly crawling up his neck and told himself that it might be due to the fact that the summer heat was still nesting inside every room.  There was an unpleasant feeling sticking to him as it came to his mind that he had no clue about what else he should do instead; apart from gazing into space. His eyes caught a notebook and a pen resting on the table. He would be forever grateful to the person who had left it there.  He just needed something to occupy his mind; to help him focus. Something that kept him busy and was able to distract him from the restless voice inside his head. Doodling something meaningless was not as good as knitting, he thought while fishing for the pen. But it was better than nothing.  Slowly flipping through the pages, he was greeted by a bunch of calculations with various kinds of sketches. Briefly, his eyes skimmed over them. “Who taught you cooking?” He asked without looking up as he paused to dig through his new found discovery.  He knitted his brows together, flipped through the pages back and forth and was stuck at reading the same line of numbers. Again. And again.  Cypher looked at him. He could feel his eyes resting on him. If the man thought of him being rude for occupying himself with something aside from idly sitting around, then he didn’t say a word about it. And Omen came far to accept that maybe he really had no problem with him fiddling around. “Well, my mother always wanted me to grow up to become a decent, young man .” There was some form of emphasis on his last words. Something between amusement and mockery.  He was a little confused about this part. Something inside him told him that this man wasn’t the type of person who would openly joke about his own mother. On the other hand, he really didn’t know what type exactly Cypher turned out to be.  Omen couldn’t remember anything comparable from his own life, but he was able to have at least a vague idea about what the concept of family meant. Or what it should be in an ideal situation. He didn’t dare to let his mind wander to imaginations and questions about his past. What could have been. Who he had been. What he had lost.  And to his surprise, the feeling that enveloped him was far from bitterness; the cold and unforgiving thing that would try to tell him that this was what he missed and wanted. He didn’t need to wonder and guess about his own life. He could imagine things. And he could find himself a place to dream in the life of others.  “That’s kinda …” He slowly began and paused for a moment. There was a word he was going to aim for but for some reason, he was unable to fetch it from the corner of his head. His gaze fell back on the lines of numbers on the pages. He added a three somewhere between them. At a place where it seemed just right . Then he flipped to a free page and started to scribble. “ Cute .” He finally managed to say regardless of the fact that it wasn’t what he had been looking for. After all, it was true. He thought that it was indeed cute.  From the corner of his eye he could see his lips curling up into a smile. “Try growing up with five brothers and we may talk again.”  He looked up and stared at him; only to blink with astonishment. It took him a few moments to fully get behind this information. Not the fact on its own alone but also the circumstance about someone being willing to share something like that with him; getting a glimpse of the life of someone else.  His own little world was very simple at times. He was convinced that there was nothing he could ever offer to the people surrounding him and they were pretty aware of this detail. It was obvious to some degree. And if there wasn’t even the smallest thing he could give them in return, there was no point in revealing themselves to him. Like filling a bottomless pit with foreign secrets.  He felt strange as it slowly started to approach him that right now, he was surrounded by someone who simply seemed to not care at all if he would ever be able to share something of his own. Someone who seemed to acknowledge him as a person regardless of the never-ending emptiness ruling his mind. Someone who was still willing to offer him a place in their life.  Omen choked down whatever was trying to climb up to him. Like his heart was about to jump up his throat. After a deep breath, he finally felt able to speak. “Sounds rough.” His gaze shifted back to the sketch before him.  He reminded himself that he had to offer this man a place in return; to make him understand that he was actually interested in him and what he had to share.  After all, that was the only thing he had.  “Are you the youngest or the oldest?” He asked and tried to sound not that openly curious.  “The oldest.” “I thought so.” “How so?”  He didn’t answer. Instead, he made a clicking sound with his tongue; thinking. “You give off the vibe.” Cypher blinked. “ The vibe. ” He repeated with slight dismay.  Unsure of how to approach his puzzled reaction, he fell silent to come up with an explanation that would maybe somehow describe what he was trying to say. Although he placed little hope in being somehow understandable. “Yeah … like …” He hesitated to continue and raised his look to meet his eyes. “Like Raze has this big sister vibe. You know? Annoying and loud. Or like Sage having a mom vibe.” He tried his best to sound at least a little bit intimidating as he added: “Don’t tell her I said that.”  He watched him carefully as he answered him with a deep frown. An expression he was not quite sure how to read for it was far from being thoughtful and disbelieving; just highly skeptical in some kind of way. He wished that the man would at least reply something to indicate what was going on inside his mind. His mute glare alone made him feel highly uncomfortable to the point that he wanted to turn back in time and erase the nonsense he had come up with.  Omen turned away and buried his eyes back between the pages. “Don’t look at me like that.” He muttered under his breath; loathing the way how defensive he sounded. “It’s just … a feeling. I can’t explain it.”  He knew he was grinning. He could hear it vibrating in his voice. “So you think Sage is a mom ?”  “Not literally .” He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s … complicated. Forget it.” Cypher nodded in return. “I see.” He added in a manner that made it pretty clear that he was absolutely not going to forget about anything he had told him. “What’s your favorite meal?” Omen raised a brow. It was such an easy question that it concerned him how easily it managed to throw him off the edge. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts and tossed the pen aside.  When he was honest to himself and really tried to think about it, he quickly had to come to the realization that he never had thought about something like that before. Probably for the mere reason that no one ever asked him. He fetched for the first thing that was able to pass his thoughts. “Mac and cheese?” He said and hated how his own voice sounded so obviously uncertain about his own decision. Maybe not the best thing to set in stone, but he couldn’t deny that it was definitely one of the things he ate the most. If he ate anything at all.  Cypher turned his face only to look at him in a disbelieving, almost shocking manner. “Oh boy.” He breathed. Bewildered and with an obvious tone of concern. He wasn’t quite sure if there was a trace of disappointment lingering in his remark aside from his more prominent reaction. But Omen had a feeling slowly approaching him from the back of his head that this might be the case. Or maybe his mind simply had come to the conclusion that he wanted to hear something like that; just to have a reason to ponder over and over again. Until he would find himself spiraling down into discomfort once more.  He decided that his best option was to just let the thought pass by; ignoring it completely and denying it the chance to cling to him. Nevertheless, he rolled his eyes because he couldn’t shake off the small spark of defense rising inside him. “As someone who likes pineapple on pizza, you really shouldn’t judge my eating habits.” He replied through half-gritted teeth.  Omen watched him as he blinked; carefully considering his words.  Then he raised a brow. “How long do you intend to hold this against me?” Cypher asked in a surprisingly firm voice.  A bit confused about his unusual reaction, he caught himself being unable to answer right away. He felt his heart skipping a beat and tensed. The kind of jitter that jumped at him from out of nowhere and made him heavily flinch; utterly unprepared. He pressed his lips together and tried his best to backtrack to the point where he had gone wrong in such a short time.  Unsettled he met his eyes in silence; searching for a hint that might reveal to him the cause for his unexpected swing of behavior. Cypher simply looked back with a blank and rather vacuous expression. He felt utterly helpless; unable to speak and he pushed the familiar voice inside his mind back into the corner of his head before it got the chance to fill his thoughts with various wild assumptions.  Then he witnessed how his lips quickly lifted up into a soft but highly amused smile.  He needed a moment to fully comprehend what was about to happen. A second later, it dawned on him that Cypher had made the worst joke he could come up with. Only for the mere purpose to tease him. There was a bitter feeling gripping after him. It settled somewhere between anger and resentment. But more forgiving; light-hearted. He knew that if this man had done something like this to him a while ago, he would have immediately left and he was sure that he wouldn’t have talked to him for days.  Now he just gave off a sulky sound in exchange.  Omen couldn’t describe exactly what was happening to him. He merely met this change with confusion and a touch of astonishment. “For the rest of my life.” He said while he meticulously teared out the page from the sketchbook.  He heard the dull clinking of dishes. A plate found its way on the table. He had just enough time to crumple up the note and let it disappear from the table directly into the depths of his pockets. The smell of something fresh and spicy hit him hard.  Carefully, he placed the notebook back on the place where it had been left.  “Maybe this will change your mind to hold a grudge against me until your final day.” Cypher said as he handed him a fork. The sound of his voice fit the softness of his smile.  He had no doubt that the man would be right in the end. It already looked incredibly good. There was no chance that it wouldn’t taste equally great. Not forgiving him seemed to become an immensely difficult challenge. “We’ll see.” He replied nonetheless. At least to cover the sound of his stomach trying to betray him once more.  Next to him, he heard him chuckle with amusement. “Will you show me what you have drawn?” Omen considered his request for a moment. Only to feel his cheeks burn at the option and what would come with it.  “Maybe.” He said. “But not today.”  “How do you feel?” He didn’t have to waste a thought on such a question. For he had already done so many, many times before. In advance. To be prepared. Just in case that at some point it would hit him; filling the entire room. Unavoidable. He had wondered about what he might answer in return. The little things people wanted to hear so he could get rid of them easily and be left alone with himself. All the things he had to avoid because they would encourage them into digging deeper. At some point his head was so stuffed up with little phrases that it amazed him how many different ways he could find for something that he couldn’t even answer at all.  Omen didn’t know how he felt. Ever.  Sometimes he noticed the unmistakable hot feeling that crept up to him from within; something small that wanted to break out only to scream and rage. With the urge tearing at him to throw things against a wall or rip something to shreds. Prickling and tingling on the back of his neck and choking inside his throat.  And there was something else. Something that felt like he was shrinking: cold and piercing. Like he was utterly tiny and everything around him seemed so overwhelming and exhausting that it tugged at him with a plea to just run away; to hide. Something that filled his stomach with stones and his mind with threats and whispers.  But nothing ever lasted. Fleeting and passing by; devoured by a thick and leaded gray. Dull and heavy. Like he was drifting in freezing water to the point where there was no life left inside his limbs and that didn’t allow him to take a single breath. Lifeless. Dead .  He had learned that lying turned out to be very easy. For people didn’t ask such questions to get honest answers.  But lying alone was not enough. Even though people never had any kind of interest in the first place and their motivations were mostly born out of social commitments, they turned out to be very upset if a lie was not good .  And a good lie was like a fitting coat; something specially tailored. Something that started to feel comfortable over time. Something to grow into and bleed inside. Only then it was believable.  “I am fine.”  Fine .  Omen didn’t even know what that was supposed to mean. He couldn’t remember a single day on which he had felt just … fine . He was just there; swimming, floating. From one moment to another without anything ever changing. Like staring at a wall in nothing but darkness and knowing that hour after hour passed untouched.  He could recall that there had been a time where he had done just that. Staring. Waiting. Until everything he had ever been was fully sucked out of him, leaving him hollow and …  Empty .  Next to him, he saw her soft smile upon her lips fading in a blink of an eye. She narrowed her brows into something he couldn’t quite tell. Maybe disbelief. Or concern. It was hard to tell for her gentle features barely ever changed from being anything else than radiating with calm. Always calm. Nothing else. He had never seen her being angry or annoyed or frustrated. He wondered what she would look like when she was ready to bite; on her edge. But he knew that things like this didn’t belong to him. Or anyone.  Sage sighed. “I hope you know that I notice when you just say this to get rid of me."  He pressed his lips together.  He didn’t hate her. Not one bit. Hate was a very strong word. And consuming. He hadn’t any kind of energy left to fuel into something so immense and strong and determined. But he didn’t like … that . The thing she did; being able to look straight through something, always knowing if something was odd or simply not right. Maybe Sage was just incredibly great at reading people; being able to see through them like they were made of glass. Some kind of special sense she obtained through life and experience.  He narrowed his eyes as the thought brushed him that he at least knew another person being able to stare into him as well. And even when he vigorously didn’t dare to linger on the idea and tried to push it fiercely away, he still felt his heart jumping up to his throat.  Maybe he was just a terrible liar after all. He gnawed at the inside of his cheek; thinking. Then he shrugged. “What will you do about it?” Sage shook her head slightly; it was hardly a noticeable movement. “You can do whatever you want.” She replied. “I just let you know that you hurt my feelings.”  His eyes snapped at her. He couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be nothing more but pure sincerity or something entirely else. Something bitter. Something resentful. Something unforgiving.  All he knew was that Sage never tended to make simple jokes. Or maybe … He was simply not the person she would choose to openly joke around with. Nevertheless, both ended in the same thing.  His thoughts run in aimless circles. He stole himself away from the realization that was trying to get through to him.  Omen was not sorry.  He knew that he should be sorry.  He knew that it was reasonable. It should make him sad. He should be upset and worried when she told him something like that. And he also knew that any good person would try to prove otherwise, would pick up the pieces, would try to fix things. And that all those efforts were only fair and candid and noble.  But he couldn't. And he didn’t even know where he would even begin if he really started to try. He didn't have words that would fill in what he wanted to say because he wasn't good at it. And he knew that anything he ever wanted to say would never be good enough. “Are we done?” He asked instead and tried his best to not sound as utterly impatient and tired as he felt right now.  Something in the back of his mind vaguely told him that today was Sunday. Or Monday? He could remember that it was at least noon. Everything else bled into each other. Like water color. His head felt like a buzzsaw was about to split it in half. He needed sleep. Real sleep; not just the shallow and dreamless dozing he was constantly trapped inside for just a couple of hours. Otherwise, he might start seeing colorful auras as well. Like that one old dude in the book he had read a while ago.  He blinked as he tried to remember the end of that story. Only to realize soon after that it had completely vanished from his mind.  “Not yet.” He heard her voice echoing inside his mind. Distant. Like cold water. Clear. And calm. Never warm.  Sage was not the sun.  She was like a river.  He avoided the urge to sigh. There was a cool and heavy feeling settling in his guts. Something oppressive and disturbing; coiling inside him like a shy and nervous animal. “What else do you need from me?” He asked and failed to hide the wary tone inside his voice.  For a moment she fell silent. Hesitantly, she lowered her gaze. Mild. Almost apologizing.  Sage was probably the most loving and tender person who ever dared to step into his life. He had not looked for her; she had not searched him. She had been just there. Always kind and sensitive.  But right now, he felt nothing but dread in her presence.  “A blood sample.” She said.  A shiver ran down his spine. More needles. The thought pierced through his mind like a thunderbolt.  Omen licked his dry lips. The thing inside him twisted and turned in an unpleasant and aching way. Like a knife about to push deeper into an already gaping wound. He felt nauseous. “Just be quick.” He muttered; half annoyed and half demanding.  He didn’t dare to look at her; already knowing what kind of expression he would face if he did so. A soft smile; settling somewhere between compassion and pity. “It won’t take long. I promise.”  “Whatever.” He spat, avoiding her gaze.  There was swift movement swirling around him. He heard her footsteps on the floor and tried to trace her path and imagined all the things she would gather in the process. He never watched her while doing something like this. He knew he would flinch and flee right on the spot like a scared cat.  “Are you ready?” The voice inside his head screamed at him.  No! Omen rolled up his sleeve.  “Sure.” He replied with a loose shrug.  He didn’t feel the pain. But he felt the needle pushing under his skin. Like a toothpick getting stuck under a nail. A foreign, unpleasant object invading his body; piercing through sore skin and buried inside his raw flesh. He tried to focus on everything else only to make sure that he didn’t dare to look at it. Even though he already knew it was there. Somewhere deep inside him. And his arm twitched only slightly when his mind traveled back to the thought alone, screaming at him to get rid of it.  Instead, he closed his eyes. The rapidly rising urge of ripping the tiny thing out of him formed a lump at the top of his throat. A heavy and hard pressure of which he was unable to simply choke down.  He got aware of the salty wetness bursting from the corner of his eyes. He forcefully tried to blink it away since he knew there could be no pain tearing through his mind. In hopes the overwhelming feeling climbing from the shadows of his being wouldn’t find a way to break out of him so easily. In a moment like this; where he felt so utterly exposed as if something had ripped him apart only to push violently inside him and scratch out the miserable remains of his existence. With no place to hide; pinned down and examined by gloved hands that didn’t belong to him. All around him; inside him. Surrounded by stainless steel and the acrid smell of sanitizer and cold, white light.  He felt the needle lifting under his skin. His stomach coiled in repulsion. The acid bitterness shooting from his insides up to his throat.  It’s just Sage. He heard his own voice calling out to him from awfully far away. She won’t hurt you.  “How was your weekend?” He blinked against the darkness behind his eyes and watched the flickering white light and metal slowly fade into nothingness. Sunlight bled into his view. He took a deep breath; shaken by confusion and exhaustion. Desperately he tried to put the words together piece by piece despite the fact he had listen to them clearly. Yet he couldn’t figure out what exactly she had said. And for a moment, he wondered if he had truly heard her speaking in the first place. For her voice sounded like it was coming from very far away.  “What?”  “Didn’t you spend last Saturday with Cypher?” “Yes.” He said. Then he knit his brows together. “How do you know?” “I was there when he asked you, Omen.” Sage explained calmly.  He tried to remember what day exactly that had been and found nothing but white noise inside his mind. Only bits and pieces of the conversation alone. And he remembered how odd that conversation had been; the unusual way Cypher had spoken to him.  A hell of a ride. He could still recall his feelings.  But he no longer remembered that Sage actually had been present that day.  For once Omen was sure that his memory gap wasn’t entirely based on his lack of sleep. He was absolutely sure that he had a lot of other things stuffing his already crowded head that day. Mostly Cypher himself. “Ah, I see.” “So you had a nice day?” She asked.  He took his time to reply.  Nice .  That would never be the first nor the best word he would choose to answer her question. Nice . Although it came close to everything he had experienced that day, he felt at the same time that it was pretty far from everything he was looking for. And yet, he failed to fetch for something that would be better; more comparable.  He wished he could give a name to the warm and soft feeling he had felt. It was the very first thing that seeped into his memory when he walked through the depths of his mind to open the box of this day. Above everything else. Sweet and mellow.  And with it he remembered how he sometimes looked at him. His smile. How he had tried to sketch it and failed miserably, but he had tried anway. In case he might forget it and he wished to keep it close to him. But it hadn't been the same. Nothing came close to the warmth carefully wrapping around him. Like his heart was made of ice cream melting on a summer day. Omen felt the corner of his lips twitching. “I think so.”  “That’s sweet.” She said in a light-hearted tone. “I’m glad your date went well.” “It was …” He began. A pause found its way between his words the moment he caught himself fetching for something that would actually satisfy her question. “It was not a date.” He stated firmly and fought down the urge to cross his arms.  Sage hummed thoughtfully in return. He could hear the small, high-pitched noise of suspicion lingering underneath.  Omen sighed. He felt himself being trapped between curiosity and annoyance and he already knew he was going to hate himself for leaning into the decision to fall for her utterly obvious bait. “What?”  “Oh, nothing .” Her voice filled to the brim with mellow tease. “I was just thinking about a reason why someone would invite a cute boy to coffee if it’s not a date.” He blinked. Once. Maybe Twice. Slowly, he turned his head to meet her gaze.  “I am not …” He trailed off and pressed his lips together. “Stop talking to me like that. You’re worse than Raze.”  For a moment, she simply stared at him in silence. He could watch her eyes filling with astonishment. Then she bursted into a soft laughter. Gentle and ephemeral, but oddly amused.  He tried patiently to sit out her little outcome of joy; even though he felt confusion rising inside of him; wondering if she was truly laughing at him. Or if he had just given her the best occasion for some kind of hidden joke he lacked to comprehend. “Are you done enjoying yourself?” He asked; tilting his head to at least pretend to be composed with her response.  Sage took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She replied. In a blink of an eye her voice found back to a serious and calm tone. And he had no doubt that she was really telling the truth. For Sage had no particular reason to tell lies. Unlike him.  “You really talked to Raze?” She asked with a tinge of surprise.  Omen hesitated. He narrowed his eyes and aimed for answering her question as vaguely as possible. Just in case. “Yeah?”  She gave off a simple nod. Mostly to herself. In some kind of confirming manner. It was so obvious to read inside her face that he had just answered more than one question at the time. And he felt frustration rising inside of him, when he realized that he had no clue about any of the thoughts swirling inside her head. Until he would dare to ask once more.  He wouldn’t make the same mistake a second time in a row.  A soft smile appeared on her features. “I think we are done.” She announced instead of everything else that was currently occupying her thoughts.  Carefully, he dared to glance at the hollow spot at his arm.  The needle was gone.  In its place he found just a very small, dark dot; surrounded by pale skin. Bloodless and blooming vicious purple.  A sigh escaped his lips. “Another nasty mark.” He said without thinking.  And when he was about to touch it, he heard her clearing her throat indignantly. “What did I say about picking at irritations?”  His eyes switched between her and the spot on his arm. He watched her as she raised her eyebrows in a biding manner and it took him a moment to realize that she really demanded an answer from him.  “I will rub in bacteria and cause infections.” He replied and avoided the urge to roll his eyes.  Her face lit up with a smile. “Give it time. It will heal.” She said as she removed her gloves. “No hot showers. And please …” A pause as she narrowed her eyes in a serious manner.  “Allow your skin to breathe.” His lips twisted in aversion. Sage let it sound like it was the easiest thing in the world; probably only because she wasn’t the one having to deal with this shit on a daily basis.  It wasn’t just the itching or the sensitivity that sometimes was capable of pushing him closer to insanity. And it wasn’t the numbness he felt from time to time, as if he was just made of already decaying flesh and every spark of life had already been sucked out of him. It was that heavy and shattering feeling that stole its way into his mind attached to all of this. The knowledge of what awaited him when he dared to look into a mirror. The distrust and suspicion that always surrounded him because no one had ever seen his face. The idea he tried to constantly avoid when his thought circled around the question of what others might see when they looked at him.  And the emptiness he felt whenever he got aware of the fact that no one was able to touch him. For he jumped at the slightest of brush; the smallest contact.  Sometimes he caught himself in the intrusive thought that maybe accidentally tripping over his own life line and starting anew as nothing more than a husk shaped out of smoke and shadows would be so much easier.  “Your body wants to live.” He heard her voice echoing inside his head and didn’t realize that he lost track of her voice speaking to him.

John smiled softly, not able to believe what had just happened. Sherlock perched on his lap, breath calm, body limp and head resting against his shoulder. One arm was still around the Omegas waist, John holding him close. He gently pressed his lips to the side of the other’s head and murmured, “Tired?” “I don’t know.”, Sherlock drawled, his tongue not quite wanting to cooperate again at this stage. He felt oddly content, the doctor’s body a strong and warm foundation to cling to. Everything he had feared during that first day currently wasn’t that scary anymore. He didn’t want to think about it at the moment but just pressed his body closer to the other’s, trying to make words superfluous. “Yes, I think the bed would be more comfortable.”, John smiled and gently nudged Sherlock into standing up. Getting the other cleaned, gave him a chance to calm down slightly and adjust himself in his trousers. He was yearning to take himself in hand but that could wait at the moment or in the end it would probably disappear on its own. “Ehm…”, Sherlock murmured as John tried to steer him from the bathroom to the hallway and the stairs. “Yes?”, the doctor asked softly. “Can I… well, can I stay in your bed?”, the Omega was leaning into John’s side, holding on to his waist. Without words John just turned Sherlock around so they were heading towards his own bedroom. Of course he wouldn’t refuse to have the younger one lying in the sheets, he dreamed him into a few more nights than he liked to admit. Although he knew he would leave the Omega to sleep alone in the bed, so they could calmly talk about what had happened when the other was up to it again. His plan hadn’t calculated in how insistent even a half asleep Sherlock could be. With the other not seeming to let go any time soon, John was pulled down on his bed, too. The clingy body just allowed him to divest himself but that was it. Warmth bubbled up inside the doctor as he saw Sherlock lying calmly on his back, his hand still firmly wrapped around John’s. It nearly seemed as if they would simply fall asleep next to each other in silence. “I think I would like to bond with you.”, Sherlock’s voice was low and sleepy, his eyes already falling shut. John pressed their lips together gingerly, leaning over the other and then hummed, “Of course, think about that again, when you have a clear head. We can talk about it in the morning.” “Don’t want to think about it.”, Sherlock moved his lips sluggishly, “I’m sure.” “Still, sleep now and decisions later.”, John stroked his hand along the side of the Omegas face and had to chuckle when the other turned his face into the hand before falling asleep.   As soon as he woke up Sherlock knew something was off. His skin was tingling along every point of contact with the sheets. “Oh god”, he groaned, when his senses were assaulted with the Alpha pheromones, still lingering in John’s bed. “John?”, Sherlock croaked, just hoping the other would hear him as he pushed off the covers, trying to cool down his feverish body. “Yes? Are you awake? Should we…”, John stopped dead in his tracks when he opened the door. “Sherlock?” “Heat came early.”, the Omega licked his lips, moistening them. “Okay, I’ll get the supplies for you.”, the Alpha turned around, clenching his hands to control himself. After having had Sherlock come undone on his lap the night before, it was a lot harder to not give into the urge to claim the lithe body. “Just the birth control and then come back.”, Sherlock hummed already moving to stand and get out of his clothes. He was determined not to spend this heat alone, too. Their meeting definitely hadn’t been the most favourable but over the past two months the doctor had shown more interest and affection than anyone else in Sherlock’s life. He was sure that there didn’t exist any other person he could stand to live with. He wanted John. Just the thought of having to use inadequate dildos again, made him clench his yaw. He had made his mind up, he wanted everything. Now he just had to overpower the strong morals the doctor cherished.    John had to lean against the kitchen counter. His fingers were flexing against the edge of the cold surface. For the first time in years, he feared that his instincts might take over the rains. He couldn’t deny that he had grown increasingly fond of the Omega. Sherlock had within a few days thrown his whole world upside down. Not only had the doctor now made more visits to Scotland Yard than ever before in his life but also had a distinct reason to come back home each evening. Obviously he had tried to keep the nature of his feelings hidden but after the last night there probably wasn’t much use in that anymore. Still, there hadn’t been time to talk this through and John feared that if he gave in once, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from bonding the Omega, whether that was the other’s wish or not. With a sigh he grabbed the water bottle and the birth control and went back. He was nearly assaulted by the Omega as soon as he stepped into the room. Sherlock had been waiting by the door, having taken off all his clothes already. “Thank you”, he drawled and plucked the pill from John’s hand, swallowing it dry, making sure to expose the long arch of his neck. He was aware that he was pulling all registers but his experience of the Alpha made this show necessary. John was transfixed for a moment before he awkwardly murmured, “Ehrm… Sherlock, I will leave you now.” He pointed at the door and was already about to turn around, wrestling hard with his self-control. All his instincts were singing and the pheromones in the air were making his heart pick up pace. “No”, Sherlock smirked and put his hand on John’s shoulder, not letting himself be brushed off. “Stay here, please.” “Sherlock, really”, John closed his eyes for a moment to stay on top of himself, “I can control myself to a certain extend.” “I don’t want you to control yourself.”, Sherlock purred and pressed his body up against the Alphas. He didn’t have experience with seduction and only thought about recreating whatever he had seen in porn films, which clearly weren’t the best source. “Don’t leave again.” “Sherlock”, John groaned and tried to press the other away, “You’re not man of your senses anymore. Don’t make me do something you’ll regret when you have a clear mind again.” The doctor was still quite a bit stronger and so managed to wrestle Sherlock back onto the bed. “Please, don’t leave me again.”, Sherlock whined, not only was his heat coming on stronger now that the Alpha’s smell was so near but he also got desperate. It was obvious that his plan wasn’t working and he knew that if John left the room now, he wouldn’t get another chance. “Please, not after last night. Don’t make me go through this alone again.” John looked down onto the lithe figure on his bed. The eyes looking back up at him, completely vulnerable but totally honest and clear, crashed through any barriers he had built up. He might have been able to refuse Sherlock while the Omega’s mind was in the grip of heat but he had the distinct feeling, the other was actually clear minded enough. Now leaving him here was a thing of the impossible. Sherlock nearly sobbed in relief as the mattress dipped down and he felt the Alpha press their lips together for just a moment before travelling down. He arched his neck back, head pressing into the cushion and mouth open in a silent gasp. The simple touch of John’s lips against his skin was intoxicating. It spread a warmth through his whole body, he had never experienced before. On the one hand he was hyper aware of every spot John caressed with either lips, tongue or hands. On the other hand he felt like all the sensations were blurring into one.  Of course there had been talks and articles about how different a heat in the presence of an Alpha would feel. Until now Sherlock had only scoffed at them. A little voice in his head was still nagging about the impending bond but the Omega managed to drown it out, or so he had thought. “Hey, don’t be scared.”, John hummed softly, kissing his way back up to Sherlock’s face and lying down beside the other. He nuzzled the Omega’s neck, eyes closing involuntarily at the potent smell, “We’re fine. We’ve got time, well a bit at least.” Sherlock nodded and scooted closer which provoked a lazy grin from the other. “You are so incredibly beautiful.”, the voice was nothing more than a faint whisper teamed with fingertips that were gliding like feathers over long lines of pale skin. It took a bit of time for Sherlock to hesitantly start reaching out his fingers, too. When he did, John gladly let his own hands fall away to give the other some room to explore. They were caught in an intricate dance for a few minutes where Sherlock gently rubbed his fingers across John’s body above his clothing until he was getting too impatient for it. John was sure that he had never been stripped quite as efficiently by anyone else. The Omega hadn’t been out on a slow reveal, spiking the pleasure through sweet wait but had his mind set on a goal and straight up removed everything in his way. The doctor had to take in a gulping breath when he saw the sparkle in the other’s eyes when he focussed back on the now uncovered skin. Sherlock had pulled his torso up over John’s so he could press his lips to the other’s shoulder, taste and mark the differences as he went along. With a lot of patience John left Sherlock some time to explore unhindered before he brought one hand up to trail down the Omega’s back and towards his arse. He spent some time just drawing lazy circles at the top of Sherlock’s tailbone, always just brushing the crack with his fingers until he felt the other’s body twitching underneath his hand. A surprised gasp made him push two fingers down the crack towards Sherlock’s hole, where he could already feel the slickness spreading. Carefully he pushed forward, his fingers just dipping a fraction into the, from heat and arousal loosed, ring of muscles. Sherlock whined and pressed his arse up and back into John’s hand making the fingers glide in a bit further while he was panting hot breaths onto John’s chest. “More, please”, the voice was breathy and light, making John shudder. “You’ll get as much as you want.”, John murmured, starting a gentle thrusting with his fingers. He knew they weren’t enough but as much as it was for teasing Sherlock, it also served to calm his doctor’s mind. He didn’t want to hurt Sherlock in any way so testing the stretch the other could take with his fingers wasn’t the worst idea. “At some point I will have you fuck my hand.”, he hummed, enjoying the blush and gasped the words elicited form the Omega. “Just my fingers, perhaps a bit more if you can take it. God, you will be such a beautiful sight, pushing yourself back wantonly onto my hand. But not now. Now I want to thrust into you and knot you. I want to feel you squeeze down tightly on my knot. It will be so different from what any toy could give you.” Sherlock was nearly horrified at the loud moan which escaped his throat. Then again his head was too far gone already to care for anything. He could only feel the slickness seeping out of him, producing obscene squelching noises when John pushed his fingers back into him and the pleasure singing in his veins. It should have been frightening but everything inside him was screaming for more.   When the last doubt about a possibility to hurt Sherlock had been erased, the Alpha sprang back into action. “On my lap.”, John groaned, pulling himself up into a seated position, guiding Sherlock to rest on his lap. Having his aching cock brush along the cleft of Sherlock’s arse made John moan deeply. He needed to bite his lip in order to get his senses under enough control to gently help the Omega. “Don’t rush and relax.”, he murmured, pressing open mouthed kisses along Sherlock’s jaw. “I’m here nothing bad will happen.” Sherlock swallowed but nodded. He could feel the blunt head of a hot cock at his entrance. John’s fingers were tracing patterns across his skin and it provided enough distraction for him to let his weight pull him down. His mouth fell open and he only let out the breath he had been holding when he sat completely on John’s lap. “Oh god”, his voice was faint and trembling. “Yes”, John moaned and tightened his hands involuntarily on Sherlock’s hips in an effort to not start mindlessly thrusting into the heat which enveloped his cock. “You are so beautiful. So beautiful Sherlock, you have no idea.” The doctor wanted to weep tears of joy. It was so different to the night before and yet it all seemed so similar. Sherlock’s scent and body were so near and his Alpha senses were running wild. “I… I…”, Sherlock was gasping, not able to hold on to a single thought for longer than a fraction of a second, “John…” “Move, love.”, John smoothed his hands over the Omega’s hips, “Move carefully, it will get better.” Sherlock nodded, trusting John completely and couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of the other’s cock dragging across his inner walls. The slight ache was gently smothered in sparks of absolute bliss. He realised that all the feelings were suddenly coming crashing over him, his eyes just pleading for help. “It’s fine.”, John’s lips were back on his, coaxing him into a kiss. “Nothing we need to do that you don’t want to.” The Alpha inside the doctor was rioting at the idea of not being allowed to mark the Omega as his but John wrestled it into submission. “All your decision.” He hissed at one quick and unpredictable move, his eyes clamping shut for just a moment. The young Omega was really testing his control but he didn’t intend to let go. The soft words of encouragement and the wonderful reactions his every action seemed to evoke, made Sherlock bolder. Soon he was moaning loudly, moving nearly erratically on John’s lap. He hadn’t assumed it would feel quite so satisfying to have the Alpha’s hard cock up his arse, stretching him deliciously open. Every move was hitting the one or other sweet spot. The Omega’s fingers were digging deep into John’s skin. He had looped one arm around the Alpha’s neck with both hands resting around the scar on the left shoulder. “Look at you.”, John breathed, his hands firmly on Sherlock’s waist, pulling him hard down onto his lap. “How beautiful you are with all your pale skin.” Sherlock really wanted to answer but his mouth was hanging open slack. He could only tip forward burying his nose in John’s neck, his lips limply mouthing at the place where a bonding bite would be placed. “Go on, I’m nearly there.”, John moaned and pulled Sherlock against his chest so the friction between them would stimulate his cock, too. That was enough to push the dark haired one over the edge. As Sherlock’s orgasm came crashing over him, he clamped his teeth around the bit of skin on John’s neck. His muscles seemed to be contracting as tight as they would go only to let loose again and make him slip fully onto the Alpha’s knot. He quite possibly screamed at the intense pleasure the stretch, which seemed almost too much, brought along, completely losing the fact that John also had bitten his neck and was coming inside his body. There was nothing much left in the Omega than pure exhaustion when the doctor let himself fall back onto the bed. Their heartbeats were still too fast and their breaths still flat. In that moment it didn’t matter because happiness was coursing like an addictive drug through their systems.   Even after they had calmed down and Sherlock was already on the way to being peacefully asleep, they were still knotted together. John’s arms now carefully closed around the Omega’s body, cradling him against his chest. The circumstances under which they had met were quite extraordinary but the doctor was selfish enough to not want to change them. Sherlock’s soft breath against his skin reminded him that one of the smartest and most beautiful people was sharing his life and that was enough for him to bury his nose in the silky, dark curls. In a world where Omegas were sold off and bound in their first heat after coming of age, the latest, Sherlock stayed the exception. He bound himself to his Alpha during his second heat after coming of age.

      Sasuke had thought the offer was innocent. When Naruto had asked Sasuke to move in, he figured he did it for the following reasons. One, the jinchuriki was lonely. Having had Sasuke finally accept their friendship, he must have thought this was an opportunity for the Uchiha and him to get closer. Not a bad idea; it’s not like Sasuke was against the action of getting to know Naruto more. Two, Naruto wanted to monitor Sasuke to make sure he doesn’t leave the village in the middle of the night again. The thought to him must surely be traumatic, considering he was not around for the first time he decided to pack up his things. Sasuke is sure he's not going anywhere. Despite it all, he sometimes regrets this decision to live with the blond, though. One of the reasons is, he's messy - not that Sasuke was particularly surprised when he dragged his stuff inside Naruto’s apartment to find that the entire place was a dump. Empty ramen cups, discarded dirty clothes, broken chopsticks. It was like a hurricane came through and no one bothered to clean up the damage. Sasuke was not necessarily a clean freak, but he'd rather not eat his meals in the same location as his dirty laundry. He doesn't know how Naruto does it, but the raven will change him. Or at least; Sasuke tried.  Over a few weeks, Sasuke had turned into Naruto's maid. He had tried to give him a few simple chores, but in the end, Naruto neglected them and it was much faster for Sasuke to just do them himself. He also didn’t particularly enjoy arguing with the jinchuriki about dirty dishes. As soon as Sasuke pinned the house duties on himself, the place was nearly always clean. He still scolds Naruto if he doesn't pick up after himself, but even Sasuke knows that his words go in one ear and out the other. Their friendship was growing closer for sure, but Sasuke didn't know that eventually, it would lead to more. If the two only knew how much sexual tension they had had since the start of their relationship; maybe they wouldn’t have moved in together. When they were kids, he and Naruto had shared more accidental kisses than Sasuke would like to admit. The days they were tied together at the hand resulted in seeing each other naked a lot more than they wanted - but this only further proved that the two weren’t strangers to the concept of sex, privacy, and things like that. Hell, some would even say it was fate for them to be together. Sasuke was the moon and Naruto was the sun - so it was inevitable that the two would gain feelings for one another. Maybe it was obvious from the beginning, with Naruto chasing Sasuke for the sake of "friendship." Truly deep down, he had a crush and the very reason that Sasuke had left the village was that he was scared of the strong urge to always be near Naruto. All in all, the sexual tension was always there… and it's there in their home. It lingered in the air when they argued about whose turn it was to make the bed - (Naruto would kill to say, "You and I could mess the covers up more if you want."). When they argued about who would wash the dishes (Sasuke wouldn't mind doing them if Naruto was fucking him from behind), and whose turn it was to take out Sasuke's hawk, Garuda. (Damn bird is much like a dog, with more favoritism for Naruto and that drives Sasuke nuts.) It was also there when either boy got out of the shower. Maybe it was because Naruto's a pervert; and he can't keep his eyes off Sasuke's waist as he walks from the bathroom, down the hall to their shared bedroom. Sasuke can feel his gaze, but doesn't comment on it nor blame him because it all must be Jiraiya's fault. That pervy sensei must have taught everything he knows to Naruto, and now his student is just mimicking the actions he already knows how to do. The sexual tension between them is at its all-time highest at night when they're laying in bed beside one another. It was nice to have someone to sleep with, both Naruto and Sasuke can admit to that. Sasuke enjoys being the little spoon, something that he would slit Naruto's throat for if he ever told anyone. On the other hand, being the big spoon, Naruto can safely admit that it's Sasuke's fault he can't get a proper night's rest. Naruto finds it hard to sleep having Sasuke in his arms; he doesn't hate sleeping like this because it's most certainly better than cuddling his pillow, but cuddling with Sasuke has its cons. The Uchiha can't keep still, it wouldn't be a problem if Sasuke's ass wasn't pressed against Naruto's crotch. Every movement, every shift, creates friction right up against Naruto's clothed dick print. He has to close his eyes and mentally curse himself for making a habit of going to bed with nothing but his boxers on. Trying to express some self-control, Naruto turns away from the raven; who doesn’t fail to notice the lack of arms holding him. In his sleep, Sasuke lets out a pitiful whimper that makes Naruto’s heart hurt. He turns back to him and brings his arms around Sasuke’s waist again; pulling him right back against his chest and that silences the Uchiha’s sleepy whines as quickly as they began. Naruto didn’t think trying to sleep without getting an erection would be this complicated. He tries to hold himself together but Sasuke’s in nothing but his underwear; and Naruto’s fingers are twitching to touch things he probably shouldn’t. He gently rolls Sasuke around - hopefully, this change of angle will allow him enough relief to get some sleep. With Sasuke’s front now facing him, Naruto attempts to push the Uchiha further away by nudging his thigh between his legs. All that does is create friction between them as he pushes him backward - and Sasuke lets out a small moan in his sleep, grinding himself down on Naruto’s thigh. Naruto’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red, “Hey, Sasuke? Are you awake?” His voice comes out quiet and rough, but the rogue ninja is really out cold, and Naruto almost gets a nosebleed at the sight. Each roll of Sasuke’s hips has the jinchuriki biting back a gasp, and he’s pretty sure he can feel Sasuke’s erection forming behind the fabric of his underwear. He’s in the same boat; his cock is swelling in his boxers but he has to remind himself that he can’t do anything because Sasuke is going to be more than angry if he wakes up and finds out what Naruto did. He’ll scold him for hours, blame his pervy behavior on Jiraiya, and he’ll slap the shit out of him. Naruto shudders at the thought. Even with Sasuke’s one hand, Naruto knows it’ll hurt, and after his beatdown, Sasuke will more than likely begin sleeping on the couch. Naruto doesn’t want that to happen, but he also can’t help himself. He’s already pushing his thigh up in time with Sasuke’s hips, giving in to his need to make the Uchiha feel good. Naruto knows he probably shouldn’t, but he starts running his hands over Sasuke’s bare chest, his breath hitching in his throat when his thumbs brush over his nipples. Sasuke would make a hot girl, Naruto thinks to himself, and leave it to his perverted imagination to start fantasizing about that. His hands grope Sasuke’s chest a bit harder, two of his fingers drift to gently pinch the buds and he enjoys the little high-pitched moans that fall from Sasuke’s lips. It’s a miracle he isn’t waking and Naruto finds a smirk forming on his face. He’s a slut, he’s always wanted me to touch him like this. The thought excites Naruto further, almost entirely forgetting about his self-control. Maybe, just maybe, Naruto can manage to sleep with Sasuke and the other won’t ever come to realize it happened. It’ll be like a stealth mission. “Sorry, Sasuke,” Naruto whispers, mostly to himself as he gently takes a hold of the elastic hugging his male friend's waist, “To be fair, you brought this upon yourself.” Focusing chakra into his fingers, he rips the fabric apart so he can toss Sasuke’s clothing onto the floor and leave the raven in nothing. It’s not a surprise to see Sasuke’s naked body, Naruto’s used to it, he’s attracted to it. Every curve, every part of his body is practically begging Naruto to mark the skin and that’s exactly what he’ll do. “I’ll be gentle, Sasuke,” He continues, and at this point, he knows he’s talking to himself. Naruto tucks his cock out of his underwear, letting it free as it stands proudly against his stomach from how aroused he is. The Uchiha is still sound asleep and Naruto takes one of his legs gently, hiking it up to his hip and slipping himself closer so he can guide the head of his cock to Sasuke’s entrance with his other hand. It’s going to be tight - almost suffocating, and the thought of it has Naruto gasping out a moan. His hips buck up and attempt to push inside; and as predicted, Sasuke’s hole is not prepped at all so pushing in like this is squeezing Naruto tight in all the right ways. He has to hold back a groan, but around halfway down his shaft, Sasuke’s rim catches and doesn’t let the jinchuriki budge another inch. Glancing down at Sasuke’s face, there’s a pained expression there, his sleepy breathing uneven and Naruto almost reconsiders doing this.  “I’m sorry,” Naruto starts, but Sasuke interrupts him by letting out a whimper, and in his sleep, his body bucks itself down on Naruto’s dick, sucking another inch or two in without warning and it causes Naruto to swear under his breath. He’s so tight, he’s so tight, Naruto keeps going until his entire nine inches (he’s not the nine-tailed jinchuriki for no reason) is sheathed inside of Sasuke’s heat. Sasuke was a virgin, Naruto could feel it. The blond was too, but he’d deny it if Sasuke asked. Being inside of his closest friend, however, feeling Sasuke’s hot breath on his bare chest, knowing that the raven should be sound asleep and he technically is, is hot. Naruto doesn’t move, savoring Sasuke’s twitching insides and he absentmindedly rubs his hand against the skin on his leg, the other running through the black strands of Sasuke’s hair. After a moment, Naruto slowly pulls his hips back, drawing his length out halfway before sinking right back into the other, testing the waters. The feeling was amazing, much better than Naruto’s right hand, and he carefully pulls back out just to do it all over again. Sasuke’s not waking and Naruto’s being as gentle as he can be, but the pleasure he’s feeling is like nothing he’s ever felt before. It’s taking everything in him not to ruin Sasuke completely. He picks up the pace, mumbling something that sounds like “sorry” underneath his breath. Each thrust jolts Sasuke’s body a little and Naruto is starting to sweat- the exertion combined with the blankets; he’s panting hotly and grunting through this entire thing. The only noises Sasuke makes are occasional gasps and his hand, which is resting on Naruto’s chest, digs its fingers into his skin before they eventually relax again. Naruto’s being left to his imagination, thinking about just how vocal and reactive Sasuke would be, should he be awake. The vision of Sasuke on his back, vulnerable, his skin flushed as Naruto holds his legs apart and takes him over and over again. “F-fuck,” He stutters and so do his hips, and to make up for it, he thrusts up harder than before. The sound of skin slapping echoes and for a moment - Naruto hopes Sasuke will wake. When he’s balls deep, Naruto moves his hips in circles, stirring around Sasuke’s insides so he can stretch them out more, shaping them to take his cock with ease - should he do this again. (And he definitely will if he can get away with it.) He’s not surprised when he feels Sasuke shift and the raven lets out a more audible moan followed by a quiet, “What the fuck-” Naruto knows it’s over. He stills his hips, prepares an apology and an explanation in his head, an excuse maybe; all while he’s looking down at the other with a nervous grin on his face. He thought Sasuke would have his eyes activated, he was ready to face red glowing anger, but instead, he moans at the sight of Sasuke’s fucked out expression. Sasuke’s jaw is slack, mouth a bit ajar and he looks up at Naruto with a small hum, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Y-you see, Sasuke, I- I can explain-” Sasuke grunts and shifts his hips; and although there’s a lustful gaze somewhere in his tired, onyx eyes, Sasuke’s voice comes off as venomous when he whispers, “I’m waiting. It better be good.” Naruto sweatdrops, his stomach is burning with the urge to release as he admits, “You move your ass too much in your sleep, teme! I had to do this!” Before Sasuke can respond to that, Naruto is rolling over, getting onto his knees between Sasuke's legs without sliding out of him. Now hovering above his body at this new angle, he brings his hands down to hold Sasuke’s legs apart. The new position is welcoming for the ninetails and he throws the covers off of himself before going right back to thrusting into Sasuke without restraint.  “W-what the hell, Naruto-!” Still not quite awake, Sasuke keens out a protest, moaning out every time Naruto’s hips meet his own. His eyes grow watery from the arousal filling his awakening body, “Haa- Naruto, please!” Oh, his moan gives Naruto goosebumps and he doesn’t think his fantasy could’ve come close to the noises that begin to leave the other. Sasuke’s loud, despite his pointless protesting, and it’s bringing Naruto closer to his release. Sasuke whimpers, pushing his only hand softly against Naruto’s abs as he tries to squirm out from under him, “Ahh- nggh- Naruto- Naruto-kun- I-” Sasuke can’t think, every time Naruto’s fully inside of him, the head of his cock nudges right up against his prostate. His back arched off the mattress, sliding his palm up Naruto’s chest to rest on his flushed skin, “S-Stop this, y-you’re such a pervert!” The command makes Naruto thrust faster, panting heavily as he shakes his head, “You’re one of those bitches who say stop but they really mean keep going, right?” Naruto leans down to brush his lips against Sasuke’s, “I’ll make sure to fuck your pussy real good, Sasuke-kun.” He chuckles breathlessly while Sasuke’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red. Naruto talking like this is a shock, the language he’s using is lewd. Naruto can hardly even spell, where did he learn to talk like this? “N-Naruto-” “That’s right, keep saying my name,” Naruto keeps pushing his hips forward and Sasuke tilts his head back against the bed, panting out softly. “S-stop-” He’s flustered; and yet, Naruto continues. “Gonna shape your insides to take my dick more often, you’re gonna love it,” The blond’s nearing his release, the pace of his thrusts occasionally stuttering and he’ll pause before starting again. Sasuke never expected this, to wake up to Naruto using his body for his own pleasure. He feels his release incoming and he turns his head, biting his pillow to muffle some of his loud grunts while his hand falls to the covers to grip them tightly. Naruto smirks; because somewhere deep down, he figured Sasuke would be a pillow princess. His hands drop to Sasuke’s hips, pulling his body down roughly on his cock, burying himself as deep as he can over and over again, “Yes, you’ve got such a nice cunt, Sasuke-kun, you’re being so good, so fucking good-” “Sh- shut up!” Sasuke tries to sound threatening. but his voice comes out in a high pitch and next thing Sasuke knows, his back is arching off the mattress even further and he’s releasing weak spurts of his cum over his stomach, swearing underneath his breath, “F- fuck you! Don’t you dare think about cumming inside of me, Naruto!” “It’s not like you’ll get pregnant!” Naruto points out, unable to listen. The constriction of Sasuke’s inner walls from his climax makes Naruto reach his peak, spilling his warm seed deep inside of Sasuke. He holds his legs up by his ankles and occasionally moves his hips to stir around what he just put into Sasuke. “D-don’t do that!” The raven whimpers; and Naruto shakes his head, his dick already twitching with the urge of another round. “Just trying to see if I can reach your womb, baby.”  Oh, if Sasuke wasn’t coming down from his high, he would so slap Naruto for all of this.  “You’re such a stupid, pervert! I hate you!” Sasuke can still manage to insult him, even while he pants and writhes underneath him, “This isn’t happening again, do you hear me?!” “Loud and clear,” Naruto purrs, almost not wanting to pull out. He does let go of Sasuke's legs, and the two are silent for a while, that same sexual tension from earlier lingers in the air. Sasuke’s cheeks flush red as he feels something warm leaking down his inner thigh. Shoving Naruto aside, Sasuke turns his back to him and shuts his eyes, his skin heating up in his flustered reaction. “Good night, Usuratonkachi. Don’t ever touch me again.” It’s no shock that it does happen again, however.  The following night. And the night after that, it’s a cycle. Naruto got a taste of Sasuke once and now he can’t keep his hands to himself. Naruto became intrigued with Sasuke’s mouth, in the way it might work. He’s been inside of Sasuke’s ass, and that experience was more than he’d dream it’d be, but his mouth remained a mystery until the fateful night he decided to slip his dick into Sasuke’s parted lips. He couldn’t help himself; Sasuke had taunted him from the moment he entered their room for the night. “Sasuke,” Naruto whispered, standing beside the bed they shared, his fingers brushing against the raven’s cheek. He didn’t budge, sound asleep. Naruto’s heart began to beat excitedly, having slept with the Uchiha multiple times before, since that first time, he figured the other wouldn’t mind if he just wanted a quick blowjob. Sasuke could wake up, and that would end it. No harm is done. Naruto pulled his hand back and decided to drop his underwear onto the floor, kicking it off to the side once it was bunched at his ankles. Sasuke remained unaware of what was about to happen, snoring lightly with his mouth slightly parted. The Uzumaki took this opportunity to swipe his thumb against his bottom lip, gently forcing his mouth to open wider, “Open up, Sasuke-kun.” Naruto felt himself harden just thinking about what he was about to do, wrapping his hand around the base of his dick and guiding the tip of it to Sasuke’s parted lips, pressing the head against them. Sasuke shifted, eyebrows furrowing as he let out a breath. Naruto didn’t move, and he patiently waited for Sasuke to relax before he pushed in, biting his lip to prevent the deep moan that threatened to spill from him as the warmth of Sasuke’s mouth took in his cock. “You feel so good, Sasuke,” Naruto’s hand moved to tangle his fingers into Sasuke’s hair, using his head as leverage to slide into his mouth. “So hot, so wet.” He didn’t stop until Sasuke’s nose was pressed right against his crotch. Naruto’s hips stutter at the pleasure, bucking forward too soon accidentally and causing Sasuke to choke around his dick. His throat squeezed and tightened around it so delightfully that Naruto couldn’t help the loud moan that fell from his mouth. It’s a surprise that Sasuke doesn’t wake up; he doesn’t even stir as Naruto begins to thrust slowly in and out of his mouth, pulling tightly at his hair. Getting too lost in the feeling, Naruto adjusts his grip and angle before he continues with a much brutal pace, his thrusts becoming erratic as the room fills with nothing but the sounds of Naruto’s groans, Sasuke’s gagging, and the wet noise of his mouth around the jinchuriki’s cock. Naruto swears under his breath the moment he realizes he’s approaching his orgasm. He wants to savor this moment, but he can’t, “G-gonna cum, Sasuke,” He pants, “Don’t be angry with me, okay?” He feels the heat of his release in his lower stomach; and right on cue, Naruto cums straight down Sasuke’s throat, painting the inside of his mouth white with a strained groan. He pulls out with hesitation, all while Sasuke finally blinks his eyes open, coughing from his throat being filled with a sudden warm liquid. His sharingan is activated out of slight irritation, slapping Naruto’s hand out of his hair with a growl as soon as he’s finished his coughing fit, “Really, Naruto?!” He rubs his only hand against his jaw, glaring up at him as Naruto comes down from his high, “You could’ve at least woken me up and asked for head like a decent human being! Pervert!” “Sorry, Sasuke,” Naruto rubs at the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed as he admires the reddening color of the other’s lips in the dim lighting, “I couldn’t help myself.” “Whatever,” Sasuke turns away from him, wiping the back of his hand against his lips and clearing his throat a few times, “Good night, usuratonkachi.” “Yeah, good night.” Naruto was bound to get addicted to the idea of having some type of sex with Sasuke every night since they moved in with each other and that sexual tension was discovered. He was going to continue to push boundaries to see what he can and can’t get away with. One way he tried to push Sasuke’s limits was by sneaking into the shower behind him. Although the raven tried to slap him and called him multiple insults, Naruto pinned him against the shower wall rather easily. If the Uchiha had truly wanted to get away, he could’ve. Yet . . he still didn’t push him away hard enough, falling apart on Naruto’s dick as soon as he pushed into him. It takes everything in Naruto not to fuck Sasuke again when they exit the shower, watching him walk back to their bedroom with nothing but that towel around his waist. He only has one arm; and something about the other struggling against him - even if it is just for show, arouses him. His weak protests of “Stop” and “No more” fuel Naruto’s sexual desire and he can’t help but ravage the Uchiha whenever he can. It gets to the point where every time Naruto returns home from a training day, tired and aching for some rest, but instead of sleeping, he’ll choose fucking Sasuke. Naruto usually returns to find him sleeping on the couch on his stomach, and to complete such a pretty picture, he’ll take his headband off, bind Sasuke's wrist behind his back with it, and he’ll undress his lower half to have his way with him for a few hours. Sometimes when Sasuke goes on long day missions, Naruto will use Sasuke’s shirt to jack off. The fabric smells like him, and he’ll sometimes go as far as to build a whole pillow body model of the Uchiha. Wrapping a shirt around one, folding it in half, sticking his cock in the hole it creates, and then fucking it until his dick is raw and he can’t cum anymore. When Sasuke returns from his missions, he’s oblivious to Naruto’s masturbation plans. He does the laundry like normal, unaware of the dried cum stains on some of his favorite shirts; and when he cleans the house, he doesn’t realize that some of the couch pillows are missing and then they magically reappear a few days later. Not to mention that Sasuke can barely get past the door when he returns from missions because Naruto’s already trying to pin him against some surface, pulling at his clothes to try and get inside of him already. It’s exhausting. The last time Naruto fucked Sasuke against the front door, the neighbors complained. He had to stop in the middle of taking Sasuke over the dinner table, opening the door just enough to peek his head out when his neighbors spoke up. “You and your partner are a little too loud,” They had said, “We’d appreciate it if you kept it down.” Naruto put on a fake face, smiling as he replied, “No problem!” As soon as the neighbors were gone, Naruto returned to the kitchen, dragged Sasuke over to the wall that he shared with that neighbor’s apartment, and he fucked him against that instead. He kept going until Sasuke started crying from sensitivity, begging the jinchuriki to let up and let him go to bed. having been inside of him from six in the afternoon until the moon was highest in the sky. Their neighbors probably hated them for Naruto’s petty move, but the blond is so far gone that he doesn’t care. As a motion of consideration, Naruto only put his hand over Sasuke’s mouth, still thrusting up into his wet heat with a breathless growl, “Just a few more times, baby, you’re doing so well.” Unable to protest any further, Sasuke just nodded and let the other do as he pleased. He’s been letting Naruto do as he pleased since he arrived at his apartment. They fuck so often that Naruto’s trained Sasuke’s body to cum untouched, he knows just where to touch him to make his thighs shake, just what to do to make him beg for more. It’s a miracle Naruto hasn’t grown bored of him, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be bored of him. He knows Sasuke will give him whatever he wants. Except for that one time; when Sasuke had tried to put his foot down. He told the Uzumaki that he couldn’t touch him anymore or he’d move out, that the only reason he was acting this perverted was his dead sensei’s fault. Naruto heard that same argument too many times, the refusal went in one ear and out the other; his hands still reached out to grab at Sasuke’s hips. Then he felt Sasuke’s hand hit his cheek. The rejection made him angry; Naruto didn’t think that the nine tails chakra cloak would come out. His teeth extended into canines, his eyes narrowed into slits and Sasuke doesn’t know why but the sight of seeing Naruto in such a savage state made his knees weak. He gave into him pretty easily after that; allowing the Uzumaki to claw off his clothes and fuck him into oblivion. So . . . It makes sense that Sasuke thinks moving in with Naruto was a bad idea. Asleep or not, that sex-addicted monster craved sex with Sasuke, whether the Uchiha wanted it or not. Sasuke's starting to bruise at his hips, and it’s been a pain in the ass (literally) to sit for the past few weeks. Sasuke knows he can easily put a stop to Naruto’s sex addiction; he is a shinobi after all. He does complain, but he never protests enough to get Naruto to stop. Why? Because as addicted to fucking him as Naruto is -  Sasuke’s just as addicted to getting fucked by him.

Calling Abigail Lytar was something that Shawn had been considering for a few days, before Gus pushed him into action with his comments about an eighty-year old Shawn still chasing after waitresses (Shawn was still trying to figure out if that would be such a terrible thing). He had adored Abigail in high school, and at the reunion he thought there was still a spark between them, and it seemed like if he were going to get past the Lassiter thing he needed to do something drastic, like maybe move on to someone he could be serious about. It was a testament to his usual un-seriousness that both Gus and Abigail seemed stunned by his decision, but he could, you know, mature or whatever. What had started off as such a promising day made an abrupt turn for the weird when he and Gus got to the station and became involved with the Yang case. It was creepy – and okay, maybe a smidge flattering – to have Santa Barbara’s most famous serial killer target him as an investigator, but when he realized that Yang had kidnapped his mom, things took a decidedly more downward spiral. Later, after his mom was safe and he was sitting in the Blueberry with Abigail at his side and Gus in the backseat, when he should have been paying attention to the movie, or, better yet, to the woman next to him, he kept flashing back to his mom and the bomb. He almost lost her. She only survived at the whim of a madwoman. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, either. Yang. There had been an emptiness in her eyes that disturbed him more than anything in his recent memory – and he had a lot of recent disturbing memories to draw from. He felt a light touch on his arm and looked down to see Abigail’s hand there. “Hey,” she said softly, “are you still here?” “Where else would I be?” he asked brightly. “It’s true, sometimes when Gus goes on and on about something boring I go into a psychic trance and travel through space and time on the astro plane, but that would never happen around you.” Gus threw a piece of popcorn at the back of his head. “It’s astral plane, Shawn. Astro is the name of the dog on The Jetsons.” “No,” Shawn said confidently, “his name is Dino.” “Dino is the pet dinosaur on The Flintsones.” “I thought his name was Barney.” Gus sighed in exasperation. “You're thinking of a different purple dinosaur. On The Flintstones, Barney was Fred’s best friend, the one who was inexplicably married to the smokin’ hot Betty.” “Yeah, how did that happen, anyway? He was, like, a two, and she was a solid ten.” “I always assumed he had mad skills with the ladies,” Abigail said. “Or that Betty and Wilma were secretly doing it on the side.” “Abigail, I’m shocked!” Shawn said, “…that I didn’t think of that first. It explains so much.” Abigail laughed and squeezed his arm, and he found himself holding her hand as she and Gus went back to paying attention to the movie and he returned to the private movie in his head, the one where there was a bomb on his mom’s lap and a crazy woman holding the trigger. My most admirable foe, she had said. That was why she had chosen him. For the first time in a long time, Shawn felt his old anger at his dad welling up. If Henry had just let him be a normal kid instead of trying to turn him into the world’s greatest detective, then there would have been no reason for Yang to disrupt the lives of the Spencer family. He knew it was irrational to think that way, but he wasn’t feeling especially rational at the moment. Yang had told him to think about her on his date tonight, and he hated that he was doing exactly that. He tried to force his mind onto a different track, but that only led to thinking about Jules and her incredibly sweet attempt to ask him out, which in its own way was as perilous as thinking about Yang. A few weeks ago he would have jumped at the chance to be with Juliet, but that was before he had had sex with her partner. Dating her now would be a whole combo platter of awkwardness. He had never really considered that his constant flirting with her might lead somewhere serious, that he might be in a position to hurt her. Thinking about Jules meant thinking about Lassiter, and it was so wrong, wrong, wrong to be thinking about Lassiter while sitting beside Abigail, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Lassiter would be able to keep him from feeling like he was about to fly apart in a million different directions. Lassiter had no tact and he generally failed at empathy, but he had a steadiness that would have been reassuring to the constant buzz of anxiety in his head tonight. After the movie was over, he walked Abigail to her car and kissed her goodnight, and it should have been a moment in which he heard angels singing or something equally epic, because this was supposed to be the start of something new, something real, but instead it was just a kiss. A nice kiss, because it was always nice to kiss a pretty girl in the moonlight, but still. It was hard not to compare it to the last time he had kissed someone in the moonlight, which wasn’t fair since he had thought he was probably about to die when he had kissed Lassiter on that balcony, so the adrenaline had been pumping and the whole thing had been frantic and hot and it was wrong to expect anything to live up to that, wasn’t it? *** Lassiter looked through the one-way glass of the interrogation room at the woman seated there. Yang was handcuffed to the table and there were two armed officers in the room, so any nervousness he was feeling was entirely irrational, he assured himself. He went in and sat down across from her, opening the thick file folder that he had brought in with him and making a show of looking at it before looking up at her. “Let’s start with something easy,” he said. “What’s your real name?” Yang looked over at him anxiously. “Do you think he liked me?” “What?” Lassiter asked, taken aback. “I was so nervous! Big day, you know? I really wanted to make a good impression.” “What in the name of sweet justice are you talking about?” Lassiter asked, utterly confused. “Shawn, silly! Do you think he liked me?” Lassiter stared at her in disbelief. “You kidnapped his mother and threatened to blow her up, so no, I don’t think he liked you. Now, what’s your name?” “What’s it like to work with him? I bet it’s amazing.” “Okay, you don’t want to tell me your name. Fine. Let’s talk about the original string of Yang murders back in 19—” “He has the nicest smile, don’t you think? I mean, he didn’t smile at me tonight,” she said sadly, “but I have pictures.” Lassiter’s stomach knotted at the thought of Yang owning pictures of Shawn, but he kept his expression even. “We’re not here to talk about Mr. Spencer. Now, if you’d like to tell me about how you kidnapped Madeline Spencer, then I’m all ears.” Yang smirked at him. “Poor choice of words, Carlton.” Lassiter ignored that; years of having Spencer and Guster make fun of his ears, his hair, his suits, and anything else they could come up with had made him immune to insults. “Tell me about the bomb, Yang. Where did you learn to build it?” She shrugged with apparent disinterest. “You can learn a lot from the internet. Hey, can you find out for me why Shawn never updates his Facebook page? I want to know what he eats for breakfast every morning. He seems like a Lucky Charms man to me, what do you think?” Lassiter set his jaw in frustration as she continued, her expression distant and her voice dreamy. “Don’t you think he has the prettiest eyes? Are they green? Are they blue? I wish I could take them out and play with them.” She frowned, tilted her head in consideration. “Do you think that they would look as pretty in a jar? I have a nice one.” A cold chill ran down Lassiter’s spine and he slammed his hand down on the table in an attempt to get her attention. “Listen,” he snapped, “things are only going to be harder on you if you don’t answer my questions. Now, stop trying to change the subject and tell me what your real name is.” “I didn’t realize until tonight how good he smells. I’d like to eat. Him. Up.” Lassiter didn’t even realize that he had leaned across the table and grabbed her arm, the red wave of anger consuming him was so intense. “Stop it,” he said furiously. “Stop talking about Shawn.” For the first time all night, Yang’s bright, empty eyes were finally focused on him, and despite his tight grip on her arm, she laughed in apparent delight. “Carlton! I had no idea! Am I going to have to fight you for his hand?” “Detective Lassiter,” snapped a voice from behind him, and he suddenly realized what he was doing and that Chief Vick had entered the room unnoticed by him. He released Yang and stood up, taking a step back. “Detective, can I see you outside?” Vick said, her tone clipped and professional. He followed her into the observation room, swiping his hand across his face as he tried to compose himself. “Carlton, I think it’s time for you to go home.” “Chief, I’m sorry I lost my temper. It won’t happen again, just let me –” Vick shook her head, “I’m not angry at you for that, Carlton, and I’m not punishing you. She would try the patience of a saint, and well…” “I’m no saint?” he offered dryly. “Exactly. Really, there’s not much you can do tonight. The psychiatrist is on his way to make his evaluation, and while her prints haven’t turned anything up yet, we’re running her through every possible database to try and find a match. The crime scene guys are still going over her car with a fine tooth comb to try and find anything that might tell us who she is and where she’s from. She’s obviously not going to give anything away right now, so it would be better to come back at her tomorrow with more information.” “She’s obsessed with Spencer,” Lassiter said grimly, looking into the interrogation room at Yang, who appeared to be examining her cuticles. “So I heard,” Vick said. “Are you…never mind. Go home, Carlton, and get some rest. Come back after lunch tomorrow and we’ll go from there.” He nodded, secretly relieved that he didn’t have to go back into the interrogation room and listen to anymore of Yang’s sick fantasies about Shawn. On his way out of the station, he saw O’Hara at her desk and made a detour to speak with her. “I thought you had gone home for the night,” he said, confused. She didn’t look up from the report she was typing. “I went to check on Shawn. I didn’t think I would be back tonight, but I was too wired to go home, so I thought I’d come in and try and get some work done.” “You saw Spencer? Is he all right?” Lassiter asked, forcing himself to sound as casual as possible. He would ask the same about anyone whose mother had been kidnapped and almost murdered, after all. “He’s fine,” Juliet said, still not looking at him. “He had a date.” “A date,” Lassiter said blankly. “Yes. So, did you question her? Yang?” “Yeah. It was…unproductive. The Chief wants to wait and try again after the shrink has a chance to evaluate her.” “What’s she like?” Juliet asked curiously, and now she did look at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, like she had been crying. “She’s completely fucking crazy,” Lassiter said. “Are you okay, O’Hara?” “I’m fine,” she said, hastily turning her face back to her computer screen. “You should go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stared at the back of her head, concerned. “O’Hara…” “Carlton,” she said gently, “I’m just a little wound up from everything that happened today. I’ll be fine. Good night.” He left reluctantly, unsure of how to handle a fragile O’Hara but knowing that in her place, he would want for his partner to give him space. The idea of driving past Spencer’s place and checking on him was overwhelmingly tempting, but remembering what O’Hara had said about him having a date, he decided against it. A date. On the same night that he caught a serial killer. Christ.

by Vivian Darkbloom http://tasabian.livejournal.com/ Lex thoroughly dislikes Toyman: he's childish and creepy, his methods are slapdash and he gives Super-villainy a bad name. But he is indisputably skilled at building robots, which is why Lex is standing on the roof of the Metropolitan Plaza Hotel, to witness first-hand the havoc that Toyman's latest invention is wreaking on the city below. There's a whoosh of air and a strong arm wraps itself around Lex's middle. Lex sighs. It's not the arm he would have chosen. "I'm not doing anything," he says, mildly. "Just watching, and hoping for the best, like any other concerned citizen of Metropolis." "Forgive me if I take that with a grain of salt," says Wonder Woman and leaps into the air. "You can't hold me," says Lex, although she is, in fact, holding him several hundred feet above Metropolis. He says again: "I haven't done anything." Wonder Woman ignores him to speak into her com-link: "I've got Luthor....he was loitering a block away from the battle zone." Lex snorts at "loitering", then lapses into icy silence. He hears the rumbled baritone of J'onn's response but can't decipher the words. Wonder Woman listens for a moment, then says: "Right. I'll hang onto him until Toyman is settled. Which should be soon." Lex squints into the setting sun. Clark and Green Lantern are flying in tight formation around the robot, alternating blasts of heat vision and power ring. The robot is standing up remarkably well to their combined attack. Lex makes a mental note to send Mercy to steal the schematics. Presently, there's a boom, followed by a cloud of smoke and the crash of a falling robot. Wonder Woman moves in for a closer look. Green Lantern flies over to join her, refusing to acknowledge Lex with even a glance. "That's a clean take-down," says Wonder Woman, "An empty parking lot-" "- means no clean-up," says Green Lantern. He curls his lip at Lex. "What are you going to do with him?" "Take him home," says Wonder Woman, briskly. She adds, to Lex: "But don't think for a minute that we won't be monitoring you, Luthor." Lex doesn't condescend to reply; As Wonder Woman turns in the air, preparing to fly him back to LexCorp, Clark suddenly appears, parting the smoke like a curtain. He looks over at Lex, and says: "I can take him." "There's no need, Superman. It's on my way back to the WatchTower." But interestingly, Clark doesn't back down; in fact, he actually flies over to Diana and reaches out his hands for Lex. He says, again: "I can take him." And there's a moment, a definite moment, between Clark and Wonder Woman. Lex is sensitive to atmosphere, particularly the atmosphere around Clark, but even he can't quite decipher what's going on here. There's a hesitation on Diana's part, a little disapproval, perhaps? But she accedes and offers Lex to Clark; Lex frowns at the indignity of it, being held like a kitten, his legs dangling in the air, passed between two super-beings. Then he's tucked in the crook of Clark's arm, which though Lex would never admit it, has a certain familiar comfort about it. As Clark flies away, Lex looks back and watches as Wonder Woman and Green Lantern exchange a significant glance. Which is all very interesting. The way Clark had reached out to claim Lex, it was almost.... territorial. He hadn't liked Wonder Woman holding Lex. While Clark is talking, delivering one of his usual scolds, Lex tunes him out and develops a theory. A theory he intends to test as soon as possible. Lex is unimpressed with Central City; its architecture is as bland as its name. The holiday decorations are the same garish red as Flash's costume. They make his eyes ache. Lex sighs and puts on his sunglasses. He strolls past the Flash Museum, notorious for getting leveled by Flash's enemies and re-built on a semi-annual basis. Lex would happily destroy it himself, right now, on the grounds of horrible design. People are staring at Lex, whispering behind their hands. A few take discreet pictures with their phones. That's fine with Lex, he wants to be noticed, which is why he had told Mercy to drop him downtown. It's only a matter of time, now.... "LUTHOR!" Lex doesn't break his stride, forcing Captain Cold to surf up to him on a wave of ice. Lex raises an eyebrow and keeps walking. "Luthor!" says Captain Cold again, the boom in his voice a little uncertain. "Yes?" Captain Cold blinks behind his dark glasses. Lex taps his foot impatiently: Why are the Flash villains so slow to get to the point and why must they always choose such prosaic names? "What are you doing here?" says Captain Cold. "Central City is my town, Luthor!" "You're welcome to it," says Lex, with a shudder, eyeing the generic office tower on the corner. "Have you come here to make me an offer?" says Captain Cold, a little wistfully. "Recruit me to the Injustice League?" And why are the Flash villains so behind the times? Lex dissolved the Injustice League over a year ago. He answers politely: "Not today." "Then I think," says Captain Cold, "We might have a problem. I don't like encroachers." Lex snorts. Such a second tier - no, make that third tier - villain. No class, no presentation. He says: "What do you plan to do about it?" Captain Cold looks at him thoughtfully, and then constructs an ice wall in front of Lex with the crook of a finger. The sidewalk promptly empties, pedestrians ducking down alleys and side streets. "And that's just for starters," says Captain Cold. Lex yawns. Captain Cold glares at him and raises both hands. There's a streak of red. (Finally, thinks Lex.) "No, no, no, no, no," says Flash, unblurring on a pivot. "Fellas, just no. It's a lovely day; Christmas is just around the corner; there's a hockey game I want to go to tonight....so just, no. Put away your tape measures and let it go." Captain Cold fires a half-hearted blast of ice at him. Flash dodges it easily, then runs circles around the ice until it's reduced to a puddle. Lex watches, arms crossed. Flash skids to a stop in front of Captain Cold and says: "C'mon, Leonard. You don't want to do this. You just got out of jail, man! Your wife's waiting to see you." Captain Cold says: "But, Luthor-" "Is my problem," says Flash. Captain Cold hesitates a moment, then turns: "I will rule Central City! And later, the world! No one can stop me-" "Another day, maybe," says Flash, gently. He watches Captain Cold skate glumly away. "Now, Lex-" Lex resumes walking. "I could have you back in Metropolis in a matter of seconds," says Flash. "Of course, you're not my first choice of a passenger-" "I'm just taking a walk," says Lex, in his most exaggeratedly innocent voice. "With you a walk is never "just a walk"," says Flash. "I don't want you upsetting the balance here. You've got Leonard so upset, he'll probably destroy my museum tomorrow, a whole month ahead of schedule. Hey Supes!" Lex cocks his head as Flash speaks into his com-link. "You got time for a pick-up? One of your lambs has strayed." A minute later, Lex is on his way back to Metropolis, tucked under the arm of a glowering Clark. "Don't you cause enough trouble here, without expanding to other cities?" Clark says. He's just deposited Lex on the penthouse balcony and is hovering with his arms folded. Lex shrugs: "My interests take me many places." Clark glares: "And since when are you interested in Central City?" Lex strokes his chin and doesn't answer. Clark says, sternly: "Consider yourself on probation. No field trips". He flies away in a disgruntled blur of red and blue. Lex watches him go with a smile, then steps inside for a well-deserved drink. Lex hates being underwater, a side effect of having spent far too much time submerged in sinking cars. It doesn't matter that his diving suit (purple, of course) is of the highest quality and comes equipped with an assortment of interesting and decorative weaponry. He can't wait to be back on land again. Within minutes he is surrounded by Aquaman's guards. Also, a few porpoises. Lex raises his hands in peaceable surrender and allows himself to be conveyed through Atlantis to the palace. One hour and one interminably long lecture about fish welfare later, Clark finally arrives. Lex is amused to note that Aquaman manages to scornfully toss his hair without rising from his throne. "Superman!" "Aquaman." "Bored man," mutters Lex. Clark glares at him. Aquaman stands up, holds his pose for a moment, then strides over to Clark: "You promised to keep the villains of Earth from my waters!" "I had no idea Lex was coming here," says Clark, a little defensively. "And I'll take him back to Metropolis right now." Not without a lecture, you won't, thinks Lex, and he's right. Aquaman opens his mouth....and they're off. What good is the League if it only monitors space and earth but not sea? Does Superman not understand the threat the oceans are under? How the great kingdom of Atlantis- "And so forth," says Lex, to himself. He idly makes a puppet of his hand. "Fish. Fish. Hair Toss. Fish." When Aquaman finally winds down, Clark puts a hand on Lex's shoulder and says, in a harassed voice: "Well, I'll gladly get him out of your hair now, Arthur." Lex snorts. An apt metaphor. Clark frowns and gives him a little shake. A little shake from Clark is enough to make Lex thoroughly dizzy and combined with the oxygen deprivation....the world turns blurry for a moment. "Oh no, you don't!" He revives to find himself nose to nose with an angry Clark. "You're not fainting your way out of this one! When we get back to the surface, you're going to tell me exactly what you were doing down here." "Won't that be fun for both of us?" murmurs Lex, and settles into his comfortable niche in Clark's arms. This time, Clark lands on the balcony and takes a testing step towards the penthouse. There's no kryptonite to stop him; Lex had the walls re-done last week. "Do come in," says Lex, with exaggerated courtesy. Clark shakes his head. "No. Tell me what you were doing in Atlantis." Lex waves a hand: "The undersea world has always held great intrigue for me, Clark." "It has not," says Clark, and Lex looks up, startled by the slight amusement in his voice. "If you tangle with Aquaman again, you'll get yourself into serious trouble. I'm surprised Arthur didn't shoot you on sight." "He used to be more fun," says Lex. "Being strapped to tables tends to make people more serious," says Clark. "Really?" says Lex. "I would have thought the opposite." There's a growl, a blur of red and blue and suddenly Lex finds himself pinned to the wall. Clark's angry face is so close, close enough for Lex to scent Clark's skin and feel the breeze of his eyelashes. "Stop provoking other heroes," whispers Clark. "Or you'll provoke me. And that, Lex, you do not want!" But he couldn't possibly be more wrong about that, thinks Lex, watching Clark soar across the evening sky. Every city gets the hero it deserves and Gotham, city of perpetual night, thoroughly deserves Batman. Lex is uneasily aware of standing out here. If there had been another option....but Star City was out of the question. Lex loathes Oliver. And even Lex isn't brave enough to tackle Diana's home turf of Themyscira. A trip to Gotham will certainly catch Clark's attention; the question is: who else will it provoke? No Christmas lights for Gotham; no bright shop windows. Lex crosses an empty street, aware that he's being watched but unsure of the source of the scrutiny. The street is silent except for the wind, sifting snow across the sidewalk. Lex is expecting one of Batman's patented dramatic appearances: the "sweep down from a fire escape", or the "turn-around-and-there-he-suddenly-is." But instead he hears a whisper: "Lexy." And Lex's heart sinks a little, because he really does try to avoid the Joker as much as possible. There's not much that scares Lex but the Joker tops the list. There's nothing to do but face him. Lex puts on his game face and turns around. "Hello, Joker." Those mad eyes, gleaming in the dark of the street. "I knew you were coming, Lexy. I broke out of Arkham just to see you! Aren't you flattered?" The Joker pauses. "Or do I mean....flattened?" Lex instinctively leaps back but it doesn't matter. He still gets a full dose of gas from the oversized flower in the Joker's buttonhole. The last image he sees before falling unconscious, is the Joker standing over him: his long fingers curled into a steeple, his smile like an axe-mark. Lex wakes to the sound of squeaking. Squeak, squeak, squeak. He tries to sit up, but he can't. That's ominous. Then he remembers. Falling into the Joker's hands.....is bad. Very bad. Because it doesn't matter how formidable your intellect is, there's no reasoning with a creature who doesn't maintain the same personality for ten consecutive seconds. Still, he must try. "You're awake!" The Joker steps out of the shadows. From this angle, he's all sharp chin and flat eyes, expressionless as boot buttons. The eyes of a ventriloquist dummy. Lex represses a shudder. "If you wanted to suggest a collaborative venture, Joker, there were easier ways of going about it." That's good - keep the voice calm, tremor-free. The Joker cocks his head: "Aha! So now you want to collaborate. It was a different story six months ago, Lex!" Lex tries an insouciant shrug, as best he can, while strapped to a table: "Times have changed. Why else did you think I came to Gotham?" The Joker frowns: "You came - to meet me?" "Of course." Lex's heart beats faster. Let him believe, just long enough to get me out of here. "Liar!" The Joker brings his fist down on the table. "You lie like a rug, Lex! I know why you came. Oh, yes." Lex waits. Let him keep talking. Talking is good. Because when the talking stops..... The Joker bends over him, moves in so close that they're nose to nose. Lex tries not to flinch. Face like a decayed corpse and those crazed eyes.... ` "You came for the Bat, Lexy. Cutting in on my turf!" Lex manages a scoff: "Batman? He's all yours. I came to get your help in taking down Superman." The Joker shrugs off Superman. "Big Blue? No! I don't care about him. But that's not why you're here. You're after The Bat. And he's mine, Lex. Mine!" "You're welcome to him," says Lex. "Oh, yes. Oh, YES." The Joker leans in confidingly. "And I have a plan, Lex. Batman doesn't care about you." "No," agrees Lex. This line of thought is to be encouraged. "But he cares about Big Blue," the Joker licks his lips. "And Big Blue, he cares about you, Lex. Cares too much, ho-ho!" "He wants me dead," says Lex. "Wants you," says the Joker, thoughtfully. "How do I want you? I think I want you in pieces, Lex. Send a piece a day to Big Blue. A good gag, that: Hey, Superman! Let me lend you a hand!" Lex wriggles; the leather straps squeak. But the straps are too tight and he's still groggy from the gas. "He won't like that, Big Blue. And if he grieves, the Bat grieves. And do you know what I do, Lex?" The Joker answers his own question with a long trill of laughter. Which might be the worst sound Lex has ever heard, at least until the Joker pulls the cord of his chainsaw. "Do you like your present, Superman?" says the Joker, looming over Lex. "It cost me an arm and a leg! Do you see, Lex? Your arm, your leg! It's a grand gag!" "No...." says Lex. It's no good. Pleading has never saved anyone from the Joker. But he must try. "We could work together, Joker. Take down the Bat and Superman." "NO!" The Joker is furious. "Not you, not him. The Bat is mine. He's my villain." And with that, he raises the chainsaw high above his head. Lex thinks: "I deserve this." Which is a terrible (yet slightly humourous) final thought to have. But Clark doesn't deserve it. Because Clark really would mourn the murder of his greatest enemy; that's how Clark is. As the chainsaw descends towards his right knee, Lex whispers "Clark...." His dying word: was there ever any question? He closes his eyes and waits for the pain. But what he gets instead is darkness, a merciful slip to unconsciousness. When he wakes, it's still dark. But he's warm - and he's moving. Lex cautiously flexes his fingers first, then his toes, to make sure all his extremities are accounted for. "Stay still," says a voice, softly and Lex relaxes because he knows that voice, just as he knows the strength of the arms holding him, the heartbeat close to his ear, the warmth of the cape wrapped around him. He's safe. Lex slides gratefully back into unconsciousness. The second time Lex wakes, it's to absolute silence and a triangular shadow on the wall. Lex closes his eyes again, the better to focus his thoughts. This silence - it's the quiet of deep space. If he's in space, he must be- Clark brought me to the WatchTower, thinks Lex wonderingly. He would never have anticipated that. And the triangle? He opens his eyes a crack. It's the shadow of Batman's ear. Batman is sitting in the far corner of the room, deliberately set back in the dark. "Hello, Bruce!" calls out Lex, in the loudest voice he can summon. He tries to sit up but finds he can't quite manage it. "I know what you've been doing," says Batman. "Everyone's attributing motives to me lately," says Lex. "You'll have to be more specific." A shift in the shadows and Batman is approaching the bed. Lex may not have the strength to sit up yet - but by God, he can manage a defiant tilt to the chin. Batman says: "Superman has more than enough to do without you manufacturing situations to draw attention to yourself, Luthor." Lex's heart beats a little faster. So he does know. Bruce is no fool, of course. He says, coolly: "I don't know what you mean." Batman strokes his chin: "Your recent visits to Central City, Atlantis, Gotham - these were all arbitrarily selected locations, then?" "Yes," says Lex, in his haughtiest tone. "And while I appreciate the hospitality, I am feeling well enough to leave now." Batman leans in a little; Lex wills himself not to pull back. Batman says: "Nothing I'd like better. Get up." Then he stands back, arms folded, and waits, the bastard. Lex, hoping that his still-wobbly legs won't betray him, gingerly lifts himself out of bed. They walk to the Javelin bay; Lex tries to fend off his dawning depression. It had been a stupid plan and it's humiliating that Bruce has figured it out. And now....now, it's over. No more rides home in Clark's arms; no more lectures on the balcony. "Keep moving," says Batman, tightening his grip on Lex's arm. The automatic doors open and they step towards the Javelin. "Batman!" Lex turns to look and there's Clark, in the doorway. "Luthor's well enough to travel," says Batman, with a faint touch of irony. "I can take him," says Clark. Even through the mask, Lex can tell Bruce is frowning. He says: "Superman-" "No," says Clark firmly. "He's my responsibility." Though Lex can feel the annoyance radiating off Batman, the outcome is pre-determined. Bruce is not going to lower himself to quarreling with Clark in front of Lex. Instead he simply nods and strides away. Lex watches him go; when Batman pauses briefly in the doorway and looks back, Lex can't resist a triumphant smirk. "I don't know what you've got to smile about," says Clark, grimly. "Get in." They make the trip from the WatchTower to Earth in silence. Lex leans back in his seat, still sleepy from the Joker's gas; Clark frowns at the control panel and doesn't glance at him once. They land in an empty field not far from Smallville. After Clark has activated the automatic controls to return the Javelin to the WatchTower, he scoops up Lex and leaps into the sky. Lex nestles shamelessly against Clark's shoulder. If this is to be his last flight with Clark, he might as well enjoy it to the fullest. Clark lands on the balcony and walks straight into the penthouse, Lex still in his arms. Mercy greets them with a cocked pistol and a raised eyebrow. She says: "Mr. Luthor?" "We're fine," Lex tells her. "You can go." She does, but she's clearly not happy about it. Clark sets Lex down and takes up a classic Superman stance. Clearly, a lecture is forthcoming. Lex says: "I'm trusting this is a peaceful visit, Clark, after the day I've had-" "The day you engineered," says Clark, sternly. "You think I wanted to be captured and tortured by the Joker?" says Lex. He congratulates himself on achieving just the right note of incredulity. Clark takes a step closer, his eyes locked on Lex's: "I think you've been pulling these stunts to get my attention, Lex. And now you've got it. I'm all ears. So, tell me: what exactly do you want from me?" Lex takes a breath. The moment has come. He'll never get a better opportunity than this. He walks right up to Clark and says: "What I've always wanted." And he kisses him. Clark goes very still in his arms. But he hasn't pulled away yet or tossed Lex across the room....so Lex keeps kissing him, willing those soft lips to open and kiss him back. "Lex!" Clark takes a step back, holding Lex at arm's length. Lex notes with satisfaction that Clark's eyes are very bright and his face is flushed. "Lex, what are you doing?" "What I've wanted to do for ten years," says Lex. There's a tremendous release in finally saying it out loud, regardless of what might happen next. Clark shakes his head. "We can't..." But he hasn't loosened his hold on Lex's arms yet, hasn't flown away in a fury. And if Clark's still here, it's because he wants to be. Lex watches him, waiting. When Clark looks up and meets his eyes, Lex, slowly and deliberately, licks his lips. He dimly hears what sounds like....a growl? But it's hard for Lex to focus on a sound when his apartment is speeding past him in a blur, doors flying open, priceless vases knocked off regency tables. They land on Lex's bed with a thump and the impact of 200-plus pounds of angry Clark landing on top of him nearly knocks Lex out cold again. "You...." hisses Clark. Lex gulps; Clark's lips are right there. His hands are still clamped around Lex's arms. "Me?" "You think-" says Clark. He bends in closer, his lips brushing Lex's ear. "You think you can control everything. Move me around like a chess piece." Lex could point out that he's hardly in control right now but he doesn't get the chance because Clark is kissing him and suddenly all thoughts are wiped from Lex's mind, except these: warm, soft, Clark, more. He manages to get a hand lose to stroke Clark's hair. Clark grunts and nips Lex's neck. Which is....nice. Very nice. Lex tilts his head back and lets Clark lick his throat, the underside of his chin. "You just," Clark says, sternly addressing Lex's collar bone. "You keep on pushing." Lex finds his voice. He whispers: "Because I want you." He adds, under his breath. "Idiot." Another growl, followed by a kiss that lasts so long Lex is flailing for breath by the end of it. Clark's hands have somehow found their way under Lex's shirt. One big warm palm is stroking his chest, the other is teasing around his waistband. Lex moans and tries to push against both hands at once. It's somehow incredibly hot that he's still fully dressed yet Clark's hands are roaming under his clothes. "Causing trouble-" murmurs Clark. He pulls the collar of Lex's shirt open and presses a kiss to his shoulder. "You're always causing trouble, Lex." Then Lex gasps again, as Clark neatly rips off his shirt, with one tug. He says: "'S not fair." Clark raises his head from Lex's left nipple. "What's not fair?" But he doesn't wait for an answer and resumes licking. Lex finds he can only speak in bursts and gasps: "My shirt....but you're....still wearing....StupidClownSuit...." Then he gives up on talking and moans, as Clark licks and kisses a pattern across his chest. He desperately wants to move, to buck up into the beautiful face hovering over him, but Clark's hands are firm on his hips and Lex isn't going anywhere unless Clark allows it. Which is all kinds of hot too. "Clark!" Clark raises his head. His face is flushed; his lips a little swollen. "Take off your costume," pleads Lex. "I want to see you." A quick tornado of colour and Clark is back on top of him, oh god, naked. Lex pushes upwards, to try and rub himself against as much of naked Clark as possible. Each kiss from Clark makes Lex arch his back and close his eyes and that's not right, he wants to see those strong thighs straddling him, see the vein in the arm holding him down, the dark thatch of hair around Clark's big cock. "OH!" "You make a lot of noise," comments Clark. He kisses Lex again, his tongue teasing around Lex's moans. One of his hands has snaked around to the small of Lex's back and is rubbing there, a finger just teasing the top of the crack of Lex's ass. "My pants," says Lex, frantically. "Mmmm?" Lex manages a shadow of his commanding tone. "Take them off, Clark." One brisk wind later, his pants are on the floor in two symmetrical pieces and Clark is hovering over his boxers. For the first time, his eyes look uncertain: "Lex, I want to....but I haven't before." And Lex feels a warm rush of triumph because so many times he's wondered, feared, that Bruce or Oliver Queen might have gotten here first but now he knows. He says: "Whatever you do, I'll like it." Clark grins and helps Lex wriggle out of his underwear. Then he climbs back up Lex to kiss him, bringing their cocks into sudden alignment. Lex groans. He could easily come just from staring at Clark's face, or from grinding against him once or twice. "Slow down," orders Clark, stern once again. Lex blinks and disobeys, thrusting against Clark's thigh. A blur of movement and then his legs are in the air, draped over Clark's shoulders and Clark is....oh fuck, Clark is licking his inner thigh, tongue in the sensitive crease where thigh hinges into groin. Lex twists his hips and tries to aim his cock into Clark's mouth but Clark holds him still and keeps licking. "You're going....to....kill....me," moans Lex. "Serves you right," says Clark, primly. "This is what you get for trying to make me jealous." It's Lex's turn to growl. He wriggles in Clark's grip, while Clark turns his attention to the other thigh. "So soft...." says Clark. He rubs his cheek against Lex's thigh." I could do this all day." "Please...Clark, please." "Going all those places," says Clark, thoughtfully. "Knowing I'd have to come rescue you. Always making trouble." Lex is writhing beneath him and can barely muster the breath to beg again: "Please....." And then Clark relents and starts gently lapping around the base of Lex's cock. Lex moans: "I'm going to...." Clark lifts his head: "You will, when I'm ready." He dips his head to lick Lex's balls. When his finger brushes Lex's hole, Lex nearly launches them both off the bed. "Easy...." whispers Clark. Lex can only moan in response. Clark relaxes his hold on Lex's hips and Lex is finally, gratefully, able to thrust into the tight heat of that perfect mouth. Clark's hair is tangled in his hands; Clark's hands are gripping his thighs....it's a sensory overload of Clark, all the things Lex has wanted for so long, all happening at once. Lex comes, harder than he's ever come in his life. The room wobbles, goes black. He revives a few seconds later, wrapped in Clark's arms. Clark's cock is hard against his hip; Clark's eyes are fixed on his. Lex opens his mouth....but embarrassingly, all that comes out is a whimper. Clark grins, wide and sunny, and Lex's heart constricts. Because that's Clark's old grin: the grin of games of pool, hanging out in the barn, commiserating over their fathers....he hasn't seen that grin in years. Lex reaches out a thumb and draws it across Clark's bottom lip. He traces the line of Clark's cheekbone, his eyebrow; ruffles the long lashes of Clark's right eye. Clark watches him, a tiny smile still in the corner of his mouth, waiting. Lex leans forward to kiss Clark's ear. He whispers: "Fuck me." Clark shifts forward, a tiny involuntary thrust. He says: "Show me." Lex nearly knocks over his bedside table in his hurry to get the lube out of it. Clark hovers over him, impatient, a hand on Lex's hip, lips on his neck. "Lex, I want-" "Yeah." Lex starts to stretch himself, hurriedly but Clark knocks his hand aside and takes over, his fingers gently teasing Lex's ass. But it's not working. Lex wants this so badly, too badly. Perhaps that's the reason he can't seem to relax. His body stays tight and tense, resisting Clark's touch. Lex can feel his panic rising. He wants this, more than anything he has ever wanted, and if he squanders this opportunity, the moment may pass for good and he'll never again....no, don't think of it. Just relax. Relax. But this, he cannot seem to do. The stakes are too high and his body, his traitorous body, senses it. Lex whimpers in frustration and then is embarrassed. "Hey..." says Clark, softly. He turns Lex round, gathers him in his arms. The sternness is gone now; there is nothing but tenderness in Clark's eyes and this undoes Lex even further. He lowers his eyes and stares at the rumpled sheets. "We'll get there," says Clark. "You just need to...." He rolls Lex onto his stomach. "Relax a little bit." Soft kiss to the back of Lex's neck, then Clark is kissing his way down Lex's back, hands petting the curve of his waist, the backs of his thighs. Lex throws an arm back to grab Clark but Clark firmly replaces it on the bed. "Let me take care of you." Lex shivers as Clark's mouth moves lower. His hands gently squeeze Lex's ass; then his tongue darts into the crease. And then, he's opening Lex up, so carefully, as though Lex might fall apart in his hands. At the first brush from Clark's tongue, Lex forgets to be tense, forgets about controlling the situation, forgets that a Luthor really shouldn't plead and beg so much in bed. It feels so good. He can finally feel himself opening to Clark, letting him in. "There we go," says Clark. Lex whines as the tongue is withdrawn, then gasps at the press of Clark's cock. "Tell me if I'm hurting you," says Clark, a little anxiously, but this Lex knows he will never do. "Oh" says Clark, startled. "You feel-" Lex grits his teeth but being fucked by Clark is a good pain, a healing pain, one he wouldn't trade for anything in the world. Especially not when Clark rolls him onto his side and lifts Lex's leg so he can thrust deeper, Lex is dimly aware that they're both babbling. "Love you," says Clark, sounding slightly panicked. "OH! Never stopped loving-" "Always" says Lex. "Always, Clark." Clark's mouth is hot against Lex's neck; his arm is a warm comforting band across Lex's chest. In this moment, Lex is held and loved. He tries to memorize the sound of every ragged breath from Clark, the feel of every thrust. Clark is desperate to come now; he pushes Lex's thighs further apart and thrusts so deep that Lex would swear he can feel him behind his rib cage. Lex tugs at his own cock, wanting to come when Clark does but it takes the sensation of Clark spilling into him to send Lex over the top too. Afterwards, there is no talk: only panting, Clark's hand gently rubbing his back and an exchange of sleepy satiated grins. A nightmare wakes Lex. It's one of his standard issue nightmares: the world is destroyed, Clark is dead, and it's all Lex's fault. He shudders into wakefulness and looks over at Clark, so peaceful and beautiful in sleep. Lex has always found it difficult to enjoy present happiness. He's always thinking back on past misery or ahead to future disaster. And now he worries: if, after this night, this bliss, Clark should walk away from him again...Lex tries to shut his mind to the possibilities but he knows how terrible things could get. Clark doesn't know, still doesn't understand, the full extent of Lex's darkness. How Lex can easily imagine razing the planet to have Clark to himself, how no one could stop him, how Lex couldn't stop himself.... Lex shivers. Clark must sense the motion because without waking, he makes an exasperated grunt. His arm suddenly sweeps across the bed, searching for Lex, finding him, then pulling him close. Claiming him, which is what Lex has always wanted: to be claimed by Clark. Lex is held in an iron grip, clasped against Clark's chest. He's too hot; Clark is holding him uncomfortably tight. His left leg is twisted into an odd position and there's a crick in his neck. Lex has never been happier.

The pasta was good. After a few minutes of nagging and shoving of plates Michael finally gave in. “Fine. But I bet it’s fucking disgusting.” But for once, Gavin managed to pull through. Michael didn’t have enough in Gavin’s opinion, but he didn’t want to push him. He could see Michael was getting worse. Sometimes he would mutter to himself, and his expression would sometimes flash with anger. Gavin was no shrink, nor a mind-reader, but he could tell something had changed since yesterday. The Brit put the kettle on and then started on the dishes. He usually took his tea at four, as was tradition. Any later, and the caffeine would make it hard to sleep. Today was an exception. He had to take care of Michael, and staying up all night seemed a necessity. It was seven. Gavin brought his Earl Grey to the couch, the tea snug in a tall mug he had stashed at Michael’s flat (“Just in case.”). Settled beside Michael, he finally began to relax. His stress level had only risen as the hours passed, and copious stress made him nauseous—hell, what didn’t?—and he didn’t want to end up puking when Michael was in such dire need of company. He didn’t want Michael to see how scared he really was. Christ, he was terrified. One always hears of rape victims committing suicide or turning to self-harm. Gavin feared Michael would, too, become another cliché. Not Michael, he tried to tell himself, Michael is strong. He’ll carry on, of course he will. But seeing him so defeated forced Gavin to think otherwise. -- As Dan had predicted, Michael didn’t sleep. He kept his eyes glued to the screen as Regular Show became Teen Titans Go!, as Teen Titans Go! became Cartoon Planet (a show of which Gavin had never before heard of). King of the Hill, American Dad, Family Guy. It was a miracle there were no jokes or comments pertaining to rape. The shows paraded on, but Michael seemed to take nothing in. He just stared, his glasses mirroring the images on screen. Gavin often watched his friend from the corner of his eye. Sometimes his face would stray from the passive mask: a furrowed brow, flared nostrils, an open mouth as if to speak. But he never spoke. And Gavin was too much a coward to try and talk to him, scared he may drive Michael even farther away. Night bled into early morning, and after hours of cartoons and multiple cups of Earl Grey, the sun summoned another Saturday. Gavin had pulled plenty of all-nighters before—drinking with the Hunters, gaming with Geoff. But he had been engaged in something, not staring mindlessly at a television, alone with his thoughts and a shell of a friend. He found himself straining to stay awake, but he managed, for Michael’s sake. And he knew once the room was bright again it would be impossible for him to sleep, and all would be well until the next night. Tea and energy drinks. He’ll probably have pissed his bodyweight by Sunday morning. At around 6:30 he gave into his hunger and trudged to the kitchen to start breakfast. Half an hour and much cursing later, Gavin presented Michael with a cheese and pepper omlette (only a little burned!), a considerable amount of bacon, some toast, and coffee (dark, with a little sugar, just like Michael liked it). “Eat up, Michael. Most important meal of the day.” “M’not hungry.” “Sure you are. Come on, look at all that bacon.” “No.” “Michael…” Gavin sat down facing Michael, plate and cup in hand. “You have to eat. It’s not healthy.” “So what?” “So, you’ve lost too much weight. You’ll feel better with something in your belly.” “It won’t make a difference.” “Michael, please.” “No.” “Michael—“ “I said fucking no, Gavin!” Michael shoved Gavin away. The food fell to the floor, but the scalding coffee spilled all over Michael’s arms and legs. “Mother fucker!” he shrieked, jumping to his feet and shaking his arms. Gavin stood quickly. “I’m so sorry, Michael!” He grabbed Michael’s elbows and pulled him to the kitchen, where he turned the sink on cold and used the spray hose to cool down his arms. He ran his hands gently over the burns, feeling the heat coming from Michael’s skin and the scabs from that night. He judged it wasn’t too bad, and his legs were okay, that the fabric of his pajamas had protected them. Michael had tears in his eyes. Gavin saw them but said nothing. After a few minutes of cold water, the redness seemed to fade a bit. Gavin turned off the water. “Go shower. I’ll clean that,” he said, indicating the mess on the couch. Michael’s lip quivered. The tears threatened to overflow, and he looked to Gavin meekly. Mood swings. Michael shuffled forward and rested his head on Gavin’s shoulder and gripped the back of his shirt. “I… I didn’t—“ “No, Michael,” Gavin folded his arms around Michael and placed his cheek against his brown curls. “You don’t need to apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed.” Michael shook his head against Gavin’s teeshirt. “Don’t worry about it,” Gavin soothed, petting Michael’s hair. He could feel vibrations from shuddering breaths and the wet heat of tears. Gavin rocked them back and forth. Michael disentangled himself after a while and rubbed the tears from his eyes. He turned and stumbled to his bathroom and to the shower. Gavin sighed when he heard the shower start. He took a bite of his own cold omlette and set to work cleaning the ruined breakfast on the carpet. -- Michael squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to the shower wall. The bees were buzzing louder, and pain in his arms stirred the ghosts in his head. He wept, masked by the water falling on his head. He scrubbed the coffee from his body and got out soon after, donning a fresh change of clothes. He opened the door a crack and peered out into the living room. Gavin was on his hands and knees on the carpet, trying to get all the little bits of egg off the floor. Michael frowned. He thinks you’re pathetic. Michael felt a flash of anger. Shut the fuck up, brain. Don’t you fucking deny it. Look at him. He’s your bitch. You’re just using him. No. And do you even deserve a bitch after you were made a bitch yourself? Pathetic, Michael. Weak. Fuck you. You were the one that was fucked. And no amount of stringing that moron along will change that. You act tough, but then you break down and cry like a fucking baby and cling to him like he’s a security blanket. Michael closed the door and leaned against the wall. Stop it. Or what? You’ll bitch-out again? He’s fucking coddling you. He knows what happened. He thinks you’re weak. He’ll never think of you the same ever again. You’re damaged goods. Dirty. Tainted. Not even Lindsay will treat you as a man. Your life will never return to normal. Ever. “Shut up,” Michael whispered. He didn’t want to believe that, but every passing moment made him find truth in what the voice said. Gavin was a security blanket. Michael couldn’t keep this charade up forever. But for now, he thought he could save face. After a few minutes of collecting himself, Michael finally opened the door and left his room. Gavin had re-heated his portion of breakfast and was sitting on the coffee-scented couch with his laptop. Michael sat next to him. It was almost eight.  Johnny Test was giving way to Beyblade. Gavin looked up at him. “How’re your arms?” Michael looked down at them. They still stung a bit, but the redness had dwindled and his skin was almost back to normal. “They’re fine,” he mumbled, trying not to make eye contact. “Good.” It was silent in the room, but for the sounds of the tv, for a while. Michael felt the sudden pangs of hunger and looked often to Gavin’s half-full plate. Gavin noticed and smiled. He stabbed a forkful of omlette and held it out to Michael. Michael leaned forward to take a bite. Babying. Michael ignored the voice and let Gavin feed him the rest of his breakfast.

Supper was served on an oval mahogany table in a small dining room with wallpaper which might once have been yellow or might have been red, but was now mostly brown, giving the room the air of a cave, as though there should be old, wet leaves turning to mulch underfoot and hairy roots hanging from the ceiling, dropping clumps of dirt into the food. The room was so full of furniture there was scarcely any space to move around. Brienne barely managed to squeeze through between the wall and the table, to get to the place setting Tysha indicated was hers. She wondered if she might sit nearer the door in future, even though Jaime also sat at that end of the table. He ignored Brienne after coming downstairs, as though his combing her hair in her bedroom were a scene invented by her silly, fevered, travel-weary mind, nothing at all to do with him. Brienne still smarted from the last thing he’d said to her. Belle of the fucking ball. She was not used to people swearing, yet the expletive itself did not bother her that much. Not nearly as much as Jaime’s mixture of familiarity and mockery, almost fond one minute, cruelly sharp the next. And on such short acquaintance, before Brienne could possibly have given him a reason to want to taunt her so… Tysha brought in an oval pie dish covered in a thick, golden-brown crust. The delicious smell lured even the dog into making an appearance. It was a white bull terrier with pink eyes and a round black spot over one eye, which did look rather like an eye patch. Brienne glanced at Pod, smiled into her plate to see his look of disappointment at the dog’s lack of a peg leg. Sansa clapped her hands in delight. “Doggy!” The dog lifted his forepaws onto her chair and licked her bare knee, making her shriek with laughter. “Does he have a name?” Brienne asked. “Sometimes,” Tyrion said. He winked at Brienne’s confused expression. “He’s an old dog, knows many tricks, has been called many things in his time. He won’t mind what you call him.” “Oh.” The dog abandoned Sansa’s knee in favor of lying under the table, patiently waiting for tidbits. He knew enough to position himself closest to Sansa and Pod, and was thus clearly a very wise dog. In addition to the rabbit pie, there was warm bread, yellow butter, two kinds of jam, and lots of tea, poured into more big, thick, earthenware mugs. Brienne enjoyed cradling her mug in both hands, warming herself on it, not having to worry about dropping the delicate china Mrs. Roelle had liked to use. Even her big, freckly hands looked somewhat daintier with such heavy-duty crockery in them. At least, this was what Brienne told herself. They were on their second mugs of tea when the dog scrabbled at the door to be let out. Jaime got up, muttering about bothersome animals. “Pay him no mind,” Tyrion told the Tarths once Jaime left the room. “We leave the back door ajar. He’s a very self-sufficient beast.” He might have been talking about Jaime as well as Dog, and knew it if the mischievous glint in his eye was any indication. “Isn’t that dangerous?” Brienne asked. “Leaving the door open all night?” “I suppose,” Tyrion said thoughtfully. “But what isn’t dangerous, in this life?” Tysha laughed silently, big, soundless whoops, as though what he’d said was the most ingenious bit of wit ever heard over a supper table. Tyrion smiled at the dark-haired woman, but Brienne couldn’t shake the thought that it was more than just an after-supper joke. What isn’t dangerous in this life? she pondered. She couldn’t think of a single thing which might qualify. There was a blackboard in the dining room, too. Tysha wrote on it: ‘The little one ought to be in bed.’ “I want to work on my boat,” Pod said instantly. “She means Sansa, Pod,” Brienne explained. Sansa sat up in her chair and blinked, looking around with exaggerated alertness. “Oh,” Pod said. “Right. May I be excused?” “Yes, you may, young sea hound,” Tyrion said. Brienne observed the nearly parental ease with which Tyrion and Tysha treated Pod and Sansa, experienced an upsurge of that already familiar jealousy. She did not really mind, though. The Lannisters seemed genuinely kind – Jaime less so, but still, there was no overt malice in him that Brienne could detect – and she hadn’t relished the prospect of having to care for all of her siblings’ needs herself. Let Tyrion and Tysha help if they wanted. They would probably do better than Brienne ever could, anyway. Tysha shook her head emphatically at Brienne’s offer to wash the supper dishes, wrote ‘No chores on your first night’ on the blackboard. She wouldn’t even let Brienne carry Sansa upstairs to bed. Sansa could walk very well on her own, but she liked being babied and fussed over. Brienne decided to follow Tysha’s lead and allow it on their first night. Tysha and Sansa made a game of undressing, putting on a pink nightdress, combing the little girl’s hair. There was much shrieking and silent laughter. Brienne unpacked her and Sansa’s clothes, feeling excluded, knowing she could join in if she really wanted to. Told herself again she didn’t mind, it wasn’t because she was feeling self-conscious. Jaime’s cigarette stub lay on the windowsill where he’d left it. Brienne threw it out of the window, imagined she was throwing Jaime’s smirking, assessing specter along with it. ‘Sansa is such a beautiful child,’ Tysha wrote on the small pad she carried everywhere in her pocket. “Yes, she is,” Brienne replied. ‘She’s five?’ “She’ll be six in March.” ‘I am so happy you are all here.’ Brienne couldn’t very well say she’d rather not have been there, given a choice, so she offered the slightly older, much shorter woman a shy smile, and received an enthusiastic, bony hug in return. ‘Good night,’ Tysha mouthed exaggeratedly once she’d released Brienne. “Good night, Tysha. Will you look in on Pod for me, please?” Tysha smiled, nodded enthusiastically, as though getting Pod to leave his boats and go to bed were a treat. Brienne felt guilty at palming off her responsibilities on Tysha, but the older girl was clearly quite adept at being a little mother, and willing to play the part too. Once she was alone with the sleeping Sansa, in her new bed, Bear clutched to her chest and her face to the wall, Brienne was certain she would weep at last, let the exhaustion and surprises and myriad small shocks of that interminable day and all the days since the night of the apple tree finally pour from her eyes and soak her pillow. Yet no tears came. The sheets smelled clean, Sansa’s breathing was like the distant soughing of the sea, and there was even a hot-water bottle tucked in near Brienne’s feet. She fell asleep feeling more peaceful than she thought she had any right to be. Her sleep was gossamer-thin and spiderweb-light, shimmering in shades of yellow, green and blue. She awoke in darkness, her calves cramping with sharp growing pains, the hot-water bottle gone cool by her feet, and heard faint music coming from somewhere. A melancholy tune, like bits of the past lost and captured in honey and amber, played on a fiddle and flute. Brienne knew the song, though she could only remember the first line: I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair. Why were all the maids in song always beautiful and useless or beautiful and fickle? Yet it was a very beautiful song, sweetly sad, a pleasant ache of the heart. Nobody was singing, they were only playing the music. Brienne crept out of her new bed with its twanging metal springs, careful not to wake Sansa. The girl was sucking her thumb in her sleep. Brienne pulled it out gently, wondered if Mrs. Roelle had known and done nothing to prevent the bad habit from taking root. She tucked Sansa’s hand under the covers, pulled the blanket up to the little girl’s chin. Brienne had not brought a bathrobe from Tarth, so she belted her raincoat on over her pajamas, old and too small for her, the cuffs dangling a good three inches above her ankles. She was a castaway, and it was meet that she should have flood ankles. She crept out onto the landing. The upstairs part of the house was cold and dark, but a light was visible from the kitchen, where Brienne had not yet been, across the hall from the back parlor where they’d drunk tea and eaten cream buns that afternoon. Brienne went down the stairs slowly, testing each stair for telltale creaks with her bare feet. She tried not to think of the night she had crept through her old house by the light of a harvest moon, yet she could not help remembering it. But the summer was another life. Now it was autumn, cold winds blew in King’s Landing, and she was set on an entirely different course, creeping through a house she could not really call her own, pursuing the source of the music which had woken her. The kitchen door was closed. Brienne hesitated for several long seconds before she crouched down, feeling huge and ungainly, and peered through the keyhole, the small chink of light blinding her at first, before it resolved itself into a scene from a story or a dream. The kitchen was bathed in the golden light of a fire. Brienne first saw Dog, sitting on the floor, thumping his tail rhythmically to the music, tongue lolling happily. Brienne felt better to know she was not the only one in the house made to look faintly ridiculous by the music. She shifted a little, her narrow field of vision moving with her, and beheld Tysha. Her dark hair had been washed and brushed, and hung down her shoulders in voluptuous waves, dark as ebony, close as night. She looked so beautiful by the light of the fire, Brienne’s breath caught at the sight. Tysha held a bone flute to her lips, her eyes closed, focused on drawing those sweet, excruciating notes from the instrument, wordless words she could not speak with her own voice. Brienne hunted for the fiddle player, found him. Tyrion was standing, his child-sized fiddle a living creature in his hands, his face grave and gentle and fierce. His eyes were closed too. He and Tysha played as one. Brienne swallowed so loudly she was certain they would hear her. They didn’t, of course, the music filled the world and drowned out the sound of her breathing. The tune petered out and ended, like water being swallowed up by sand. Tyrion lowered the fiddle and looked at Tysha, who held the flute on her lap and gazed back at him. Some unspoken meaning passed between them, then Tysha grinned, a girlish, playful grin which showed her true age, and started playing a merry jig. After the first few beats, Tyrion returned her grin and picked up the tune, augmenting it, giving it life. Jaime stepped into Brienne’s field of vision. She jerked away from the keyhole instinctively before she remembered he could not see her, he had simply gotten up from a chair and stepped into the middle of the floor, between the two players. He bowed, first to Tysha, then to his brother, with none of his brother’s grave courtesy and all of his own languid, mocking ease. He was in shirtsleeves, his firefighter’s jacket discarded. The last wisps of smoke from a just-finished cigarette wound their blue way up from his nostrils, as though he had materialized in a puff of magical smoke, a sleek golden dragon in human form. Jaime began to dance. He fulfilled all the promise of his physical grace when he danced, his feet and hands moving in perfect time, his bare, golden-haired wrists the most elegant thing Brienne had ever seen. He smiled a tiny, private smile even as sweat began to gleam on his forehead. Brienne forgot that she was cold and sitting on the stone threshold behind a closed door in a house full of night. Her heart beat in time with the music, with Jaime’s movements, and her hands felt damp as she watched. Tyrion and Tysha nodded their heads in rhythm, in encouragement, smiling at each other, while Dog beat time with his tail, and Jaime seemed to dance for himself, the sole spinning point of a still universe. Brienne experienced a momentary, gut-piercing stab of desire. She wanted to get up, open the door and join them, see if Jaime would teach her the steps and let her dance with him, if Tyrion and Tysha would play for her too. Then the desire passed and was replaced by safer certainties: the knowledge of her size and clumsiness, the awareness that she had left her broken sword on Tarth, the only object which had lent her movements grace, broken by her own hand while she raged in her father’s room. The certainty that this was not her home or her family, and she did not deserve acceptance or warmth. She watched the two blond men and the dark-haired woman and their happy, musical dog at their leisure, and wondered if they ever played and danced like this when Uncle Tywin was at home, or if this was something Jaime, Tyrion and Tysha knew they should not do, but did it anyway when they could steal a few hours, the balance of the world be damned. Brienne’s rump went numb on the cold floor and her feet were blocks of ice, but her chest and neck and face were warmed by the music and the sight of Jaime dancing. Eventually she must have slept, for in her dreams she was curled up on a cold, hard surface when a spill of golden light washed over her, replaced at once by a long, dark shadow. “What is this creature doing on the doorstep?” a deep voice demanded with the authority of those who expected obedience from others. “Poor girl,” another voice, kinder and younger, murmured. “She should have come in.” “Must I tell you to wake her? She should sleep with the dog if she is so fond of floors,” the first voice rumbled. “I’ll take her up to bed,” a third voice cut in, a lilt of wry amusement in it as well as a faint echo of concern. “She’s had a long day.” Try as she might (and she did try, many times), Brienne could never recall any more of that dream. Sometimes she was certain she had felt strong arms, one around her torso, the other under her knees, a heartbeat growing labored under her cheek, a voice muttering “You weigh a fucking ton, you bloody cow” somewhere above her, breath ruffling her short hair. But she suspected she had imagined that part. Dreams could feel very real while they lasted, but they were just fog blown away on the morning wind. Everybody knew that.

Chapter 1: "Pro Right, 513 Fullback Flare, Pro Right, 513 Fullback Flare. On one, on one. Ready... break!" I said into everybody's eyes, the team clapping in unison as we broke our huddle and hustled to our positions. I fitted my mouthguard into my mouth, biting into it and getting set directly behind the center. I blinked the sweat out of my eyes, turning my head to look at my receivers one last time before putting my hands out, satisfied that everybody was where they were supposed to be. "Down.... Reeeeeeeeaaaaaaaddddy..... Set 180..... Hutty-hut!" I screamed. The ball flew into my hands, the sound of dull thuds, grunts, snarls, and the odd expletive of the linemen crashing into each other resounding all around me. Good thing they were all either orcs, ogres, or werebears, or else i'd be up a creek. I dropped back, turning my head to the left of my formation looking for my reciever. Valerian Hightower the Elf, one of my two, was having trouble getting off of the line of scrimmage, being pressed by a werewolf cornerback. I shifted my eyes to the middle of the formation, eyeing for my tight end, DeAndre Fowler. He wasn't hard to miss, being a Werebear and almost as tall as Ricky. I saw him in an instant with an arm raised as he streaked past the linebacker that was covering him. I braced my body, bringing my arm back to throw, before pumping forward and lobbing the ball with an intense velocity. The ball sailed through the air, spiraling as it achieved its maximum altitude and began it's descent back to the Earth towards Fowler's outstretched hands, where it promptly whizzed through his hands, hitting him in the pads, bouncing off and landing on the grass. I swore, hitting the sides of my helmet in frustration. "Damnit, DeAndre." I mumbled to myself. "Goddamnit! Catch the freakin' ball, Fowler! Ortega! ORTEGA! Get over here! Get in at Tight End. Fowler, bump out." Coach Freddy screamed. "Si, senor." Ricky replied quietly in a chippy Mexican accent as he hustled over next to me. I snorted, trying not to laugh too loud at his antics. I didn't want to get coach any more mad. Even though he was normally mild-mannered, he looked like he wanted to rip someone's head off at the current moment. "If you get that open in midfield, DeAndre, you better be ready to snag it in." He yelled, storming over to the formation, his vein on his bald head protruding furiously. He pointed furiously at DeAndre and then the rest of us. "Do I need to remind you guys that we go up against Jefferson High School in ten days!? Ten damn days! That's all we have! You guys need to quit being so sluggish and focus! Jesus!" No one thought it'd be a smart idea to remind him that this was only the third day of practice. Belcourt High School had scrambled to get a new coach in time so we wouldn't forfeit the season. It just so happened that a certain football coach who's been coaching me for three years decided it was time to resign and seek another job elsewhere at a higher paying establishment. Either way, that was no excuse. Almost everyone here had played football one way or another at another school before being forced to transfer by law. "Goddamnit!" He said once more to himself. "McCrae, get me my clipboard!" A sophomore receiver, probably a leprechaun if his close cropped red hair and four leaf clover sticker on his helmet said anything, darted off. "Yes, coach!" He said quickly, over his shoulder, running to the spot where Coach Freddy threw his clipboard down at the ground in frustration. He picked it up, running it back to the formation and handed it off to him. Coach Freddy held up the clipboard. "Everybody huddle around." We had around thirty people on the roster who had signed up for football in the short amount of time, so we were reasonably spaced out. We huddled closer, staring at the clipboard. "Look, O-Line, you guys did good, you just need to fire off on the ball harder. No other complaints from me. Who was my Left Receiver? Hightower? Look man, you gotta' shed that press quicker. Just rip through the guy, don't swim over him! Fowler, not only did you drop the ball, you also ran the wrong route. You were supposed to run a back side post, not a speed out. Right reciever, same to you. Shed that press quicker. Everybody got that?" "Yes, coach!" The team murmured in a chorus. Coach Freddy turned to Coach Eric. "Eric, anything you got defensively?" We all turned to Coach Eric who rubbed his beard, thinking. Coach Eric was the another one of the coaches of the Belcourt Minotaurs Football Team. He lost his job as part of the Definition of the Treatment of Other Species Act, being half Satyr. "Yeah... uh..." He bleated. "Defense, huddle up on the other side of the line of scrimmage. I'll talk to you guys there." Half of the huddle broke away, leaving just the offensive side standing around. "Well?" Coach Freddy asked. "You all know what you're supposed to do. Am I supposed to hold your hand? Go freakin' huddle." The center immediately raised his hand. "Huddle, huddle, huddle!" He cried out as the team surrounded him, with the linemen in front and backs/receivers lining up behind them. I stepped towards coach. He was short and portly compared to my tall and langley height, so I had to bend down quite a bit to talk to him. "That was a good ball, Chris. Your passing skills have improved over the Summer." He murmured. "Thanks, coach." I said surprised. It was a rare occasion to hear him compliment anybody, so whenever he did, I took it as if it were a nugget of gold. Coach Freddy sucked on the bottom of his lip, staring at the defensive huddle through his Oakley sunglasses. With a loud clap and a cry of "Smash!", they broke their huddle, moving into their formation. "Alright, let's take a look... they're in Cover Two... so... let's go..." He rubbed at his stubble, thinking. "Let's go with... Pistol Left...17 Power Read" I nodded, hurrying back to the formation, who were looking at me expectantly. I took out my mouthguard so I could speak clearly. "Pistol Left, 17 Power Read." I repeated to the formation. "On one, on one. Ready... break!" Hearing the sound of everyone yelling "Break!" at the same time and clapping was satisfying. I lined up three yards behind my center, turning around to make sure my halfback was lined up correctly behind me and to tell him what to do. He never played a down of football before in his entire life, having only watched a few games here and there on ESPN. I knew I was doing him no good telling him what to do before every play. I was wasting valuable time and it certainly wasn't encouraging him to study anytime soon... but I just couldn't throw him under the bus and make him look stupid by not knowing what to do. "It's a run, Viktor. Make sure you don't snatch the ball away from me until I hand it off to you. Once you get it, just keep on running straight and through. Don't stop until the whistle." I said. Slightly fearful crystal blue eyes flitted up to me, before he nodded and squatted down, biting down on his oversized mouthguard (which accommodated his oversized fangs). I guiltily slipped the mouthguard into my mouth, biting down on the gel custom molded to my teeth. The defense looked primed to stop the run. I was already resigned to the fact that he was probably going to get the snot smacked out of him. "You'll be fine." I mumbled, not exactly sure to whom. I examined my offensive formation one more time, making sure everyone was set before I held my hands out to receive the snap. "Down.... Reeeeeeeeaaaaaaaddddy..... Set 180..... Hut-hut!" I screamed. The ball came flying into my hands where I promptly secured it, looking for my read keys. Sure enough, the offensive line was having trouble opening up a huge hole, but there was still a hole nonetheless wide enough for a skinny Viktor to squeeze through. I turned around, holding out the ball for him. He came running up at full speed, grabbing hold of the ball and tucking it securely into his chest. He burst into the hole with a surprising amount of force, smashing through like a truck. I stepped away from the formation, watching the play develop. Viktor held the ball in tight as he introduced himself to our team's defensive tackle, bouncing off of him and flowing to the right side of the formation as he struggled to stay on his feet. By either a stroke of luck or hidden amounts of tremendous skill, he somehow stumbled forward, covering the ball up with two hands as he split between the right guard's and tight end's blocks. My mouthguard slipped out of my mouth as my jaw dropped open when Viktor finally stopped stumbling and began flat-out running, somehow managing to stay up as the defense struggled to bring down the 5'7'', 120 pound Junior knock-off version of Marshawn Lynch. I soon began hurrying to catch up to him, moving myself into optimal position to block for him. I slowed back down to a walking pace when I realized it wasn't needed. As Viktor rapidly began to approach the end zone, Nate Redmond, our safety, dove to tackle him. He got his hands around him but slid off, unable to wrap and squeeze. Home free, Viktor burst into the endzone, spiking the ball and screaming in exuberance as the rest of our offense caught up to him, yelling and slapping him on the head the way testosterone-filled athletes do when one of their own accomplishes an extraordinary feat. I was a good thirty yards away from the endzone when I turned around to look at Coach Freddy, who was watching with a confused expression morphed onto his face. "Who was that? Was that Sokolov?" He asked. I simply smiled to myself and slipped in my mouthguard. It wasn't often that you found Coach Freddy dumbfounded. The team was reinvigorated after Viktor broke away for his 50+ yard scamper to the end zone and practice ran so much smoother because of it. It wasn't until the afternoon heat that was beating down on us in the late afternoon began fading away and the evening chill came on did we really turn the intensity down a notch and finish up what was a three hour long practice. Coach Freddy blew his whistle three times. "Come on, ya'll. Take a knee!" He said, waving everybody over from their individual offensive groups. I looked over before turning back to face the Tight End I was working with. "One more rep." I said, as I positioned the ball in front of me. "Set, go!" I said, dropping back three steps. I brought my arm back and swung it forward, throwing the ball in a spiral towards the sprinting werewolf tight end. The ball sailed into his outstretched hands as he caught it, tucking it away, and turning upfield. I smiled in satisfaction. "Nice catch, Fowler!" I called out. I unstrapped my helmet, taking it off as I turned around to jog towards the rest of the team who were taking a knee around Coach Freddy. I ran a hand through my short brown hair, wiping away the streaks of sweat that were running down my forehead. I took a knee next to Viktor who had an open spot next to him. Fowler came up behind us, clapping my lightly on the shoulder. "Good ball, Chris." He said. I simply nodded my head as I looked up at Coach Freddy. He took off his hat, wiping at his bald head before talking. "Overall guys, good practice. A little rough at the beginning but everything worked out in the end. Great job. Alright.." He looked at his clipboard. "I'm sure you guys already know this, but in ten days, Jefferson High School comes here. I'm not sure about you, but this game will make or break this school. This game will be watched closely by everybody, and I mean everybody. However, the way I see it, we're not where we need to be to smack the shit out of them, but we're close. We're definitely close. You guys keep coming here, you keep working at it, you keep staying on that grind, you'll win some games this year." He flipped through his clipboard again. "Oh, right. School work. Guys..." He looked around at each of us, man to another man. "I know you guys are out here to play ball, but school starts at the end of this weekend and school always comes first. Make sure you guys are diligent, respect your teachers, yada, yada, yada. You know how it all goes. That's all I got for you guys. Oh! One more thing." He set his clipboard down by his side. "Guys, it's only been a couple of days, but Principal Finch already got a couple of complaints from jumpy people who saw some big animals prowling around at night. Now, i'm not accusing you weres here on the team and I know you guys gotta' let the animal out every now and then, but i'd also rather not you guys get shot by animal control before the season starts. Alright, that's about it. Let's get a break and let's get out of here." Everyone stood up, hollering, as they put their fists in the center of the circle. I leaned forward, raising my fist. "Minotaurs on me, Minotaurs on three. One, two, three!" "Minotaurs!" Everyone shouted. Chapter 2: I drove the car up the familiar driveway, stopping at the garage door and placing it in park. I pulled the handbrake, opening the door. "Thanks for giving me a ride home, Chris." Viktor said, as he climbed out of the passenger seat. "No problemo, Vik." I replied, smiling at him. He was such a good kid. Nice, friendly, polite... did I mention nice? It's a mystery how he never had a girlfriend before. I never ever wanted him to change. He slung his bag over his shoulder as I walked with him up to the front door. The sun was just beginning to set and the skies were becoming dark. As we stopped in front of the door, he fumbled with the doormat, retrieving the key that was hidden underneath. He slid the key into the lock, turning it and opening the front door. I walked with Viktor inside, enjoying the familiarity of the house as Viktor cupped his hands around his mouth. "Mama, i'm home!" He called out. "Go take a shower and wash up for dinner!" Yulia called back. Viktor turned to look at me, bumping me with his shoulder as he slid his bag off his shoulder, setting it to the side of the door. "You staying for dinner?" He asked. By the insistence of the matriarch of the Sokolov household, a spot was always open for me at the dinner table, but this time, I had to decline. I had already promised my parents i'd be home for dinner. "Nah. Gotta' head home tonight. Wish I could stay though. Maybe next time?" He nodded energetically. "For sure! Will you be here when I get back?" I nodded. "Yeah man, go take as long as you need to. When you get upstairs, can you tell Stasi that i'm here?" I replied as Viktor began walking upstairs. "Yeah, I got you." He said as his back retreated away from me to the second floor. "Anna, Chris is here!" He called out. "Coming!" A muffled voice came from her room. I wasn't left alone in the hall for long. Yulia poked her head from the study, smiling at me in that motherly way of hers. "I knew I heard the voice of my second son." She said. The rest of her body followed as she left the study, heading towards me, and wrapping me in a hug. She let go, looking at Victor's retreating back up the stairs, before turning back to me. "How was practice, Christopher?" My smile widened at the thought of Vik's prowess at running the ball. "Oh, it was great! Viktor did really well. I wouldn't be surprised if he was given the starting job!" I said. Yulia's chest puffed up in pride at the prospect of her son being on the starting team. "That's excellent news, Kristopher." She gushed, relieved. "Me and Anton were always wondering if he'd be more of an athlete. Less of those video games and being cooped up in his room by himself. It's good to see that he is, yes. " "Well, he certainly has the potential to be a great athlete. What were you doing in the study?" I asked. Yulia waved off my question. "Oh, you know how my dear husband gets when he works by himself on his Coven projects. Always grumbling, irritable, and self-doubting. Two heads are always better than one, even though one of those heads majored in political science." She wagged her finger at me. "While we're on the subject, have you found a major yet? The last time I asked, you didn't have one." "I think I have." I said, with an ounce of confidence. A couple months back, i'd wake up interested in a different job. Maybe one day i'd want to be a pilot, the next: a doctor, a week later: a professional football player. But after a lot of soul searching and the gentle prodding of one loving Stasi, I think I may have found my calling. "I want to major in criminal justice and maybe become a federal agent or a police officer after college." Her eyes widened. "That's a dangerous line you're walking, Christopher." I shrugged sheepishly. "What can I say?" I said. "I don't think i'd be able to sit behind a desk for the rest of my job. I want to do some good in the world." She nodded at that last bit. "Always a good boy." She said, pinching my cheeks. "You'll go far in life that's for sure." Even though I knew her words were genuine, I couldn't help but feel like they had a hollow ring to it, as if her mind wasn't completely into her conversation with me. Her eyes flitted up to the stairs, still seeing that Stasi was still in her room getting ready. She leaned in to me, her voice adopting a quiet tone. "Christopher, is something wrong with Anastasia?" She asked, hastily. My eyes widened open in alarm. "No!" I said, a bit too loudly. My tone surprised her as much as it surprised me. "No." I repeated, much quieter. "Is something wrong with Stasi?" I asked, fearfully. Yulia shook her head. "No... no. She just... ah... ever since the Pacific Mall, she hasn't eaten much, and you know how she is. She likes food. I mean a lot. Big appetite. But lately she's been poking and prodding at her food and synth packs. It is almost as if she doesn't like her food anymore. Only thing she ate was when I cooked her favorite Zharkoye." I was surprised and alarmed at all of this. Sure, Stasi was a bit of a picky eater when it came to food, but not that much to where she'd never eat. She'd actually eat whatever was put in front of her by her mom, me, or my mom. The image painted in my head of Stasi miserably picking at her food was gut wrenching. "I'll try out and find out if anything's wrong." I said. "Good. Spasibo. Always a good boy." She repeated, pinching my cheek lightly once more. It must've looked comical as she did it, reaching all the way up to my six foot tall form. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and my ears perked up. I've been here so often that I could tell who was who just by the sound of their footsteps on the stairs. Elena's was a loud boom-boom-boom of energy as she bounded down the steps. Viktor's was timid and quiet, almost as if he was afraid to wake up the wooden floorboards. Stasi's was... well... it was more a gentle padding, almost as if she was floating on a cloud. Who am I kidding. I knew it was Stasi because 1) Anton was in the study so there was no way he could be upstairs (unless vampires secretly have teleportation powers or there's a secret elevator in the study) 2) Yulia was right here with me. 3) Viktor went to go take a shower. 4) Elena never walked down the stairs this slow. So by process of elimination.. "Hi, Chris!" Stasi said, her smile wide as she enveloped me tightly in a hug. It didn't look she had trouble eating or was going through anything, she looked better than ever. Her skin was bright, with a rosy hue tinting her cheeks. I was just about to give her a passionate kiss on the lips when I realized that Yulia was standing right there and I remembered Stasi's want of keeping it under wraps for now. She broke the hug, looking up at me lovingly and grasping my hand. "Mama, Chris and I will be outside for a little bit!" She said over her shoulder. Yulia clasped her hands tightly, smiling at the both of us. "Be back quickly! I don't want you to spoil your dinner." She said enigmatically as she turned around to go back to the study. Stasi opened the front door, leading me outside to the porch. It was lightly furnished, with a bench off to the side right in front of the living room window. She flicked on the porch light as we left. The Sun had completely set with the night sky looming over us. She shut the door behind her, smoothing out her T-shirt. She was dressed for comfort, a simple white T-Shirt with the words: "If You're Not A Vampire, You Can Suck Off." emblazoned on it. She was also wearing a pair of basketball shorts that suspiciously looked like ones I owned until they disappeared about a year ago. Her raven hair was all the way out, flowing like a wave of the midnight ocean. She made the first move, wrapping her arms around my neck. "It's only been a few days, but I've missed you. A Lot." She murmured, closing her eyes bringing her head forward. "I've missed you too." I whispered. I was happy to meet her halfway, giving her a soft kiss. It wasn't long before I gently pushed my tongue forward into her lips, where she gladly parted them to give me access. I spent that time exploring her mouth, delighting in the way her velvety tongue felt against mine and the way her pronounced fangs lightly scraped my tongue. My hands ran up and down her back, before resting on her firm rear end. Of course though, we were humans... (well, arguably you could say she wasn't according to D-Toss, which is a totally racist statement to make). We had lungs and they were starved of air. We broke the kiss, pressing our heads together as we both caught our breaths. Stasi took deep breaths of air before sniffing and making an exaggerated recoil backwards. "Eugh, you smell, Chris!" Stasi said. "It's my manly body odor." I replied with a stupid grin. She shook her head, pinching her nose shut as she laughed. "No, Chris. There's a difference between manly body odor and simply smelling like you ran 20 miles. For one, manly body odor is sexy." "Are you saying i'm not sexy?" I asked in mock hurt, grasping at my heart. She laughed, grasping at my hand, pulling it away from my chest, and simply holding it. She gave me another peck on the lips. "Of course not. You're the sexiest guy I know and love." I smiled lovingly at her. "Love you too." I said, before sitting down on the wooden bench off to the side. She sat down next to me, curling her legs up and leaning on my shoulder. I rested my head on hers, sighing in contentment. It was nice, simply sitting together and enjoying each other's presence. It was so different, yet the same as ever. We were new to the label of boyfriend and girlfriend, the both of us. Our relationship was like Spring, everything is blooming and starting out. We're trying to figure things out. But at the same time, she was still my lifelong best friend. We just shared a few kisses here and there... and not much else... everything was still normal. To be completely honest, even though it's only been a few days, we never had that burst of intimacy that we had the first time. It was almost as if it had been an explosion of lust and teenage hormones in the heat of the moment and we suddenly became too wary of trying again out of fear of embarrassing ourselves or getting caught. I already knew that if we ever did get caught for doing something like that again, it wouldn't be because of me. I'd never be able to make the first move ever again. I wasn't one to prod her along, either. I loved her too much to guilt trip her. If she ever wanted to have sex with me (which I hope she did), i'd absolutely jump at the chance. But for now, I just simply wanted to be with her. Everything will come into place later. "How was Viktor at practice today?" She asked suddenly. I blinked, not realizing that her question caught me off guard in La La Land. "Hm? Oh. Viktor did great." She cracked open an eye to look at me. "Oh yeah?" She asked. I nodded. "Oh yeah. I'm surprised he even wanted to play. I thought he didn't like the sport." She sighed. "That's my little bro, following you to the edge of the world. You're his hero, after all." It was a well known fact that Viktor looked up to me immensely. I was his surrogate big brother, role model, advice giver on girls, confidant, and close friend. "I guess now mom will want to wear his extra jersey." Stasi continued. "I'm certainly going to be wearing yours." "I'd like that... like a lot." I said. "Yep, i'm going to wear it all around school." She replied. I gave a groan when she said school. I've been enjoying my Summer break and wasn't ready for it to end, like any other high schooler. "Yeah... new school, senior year. Whoop dee doo." "Oh come on," She said. "It won't be that bad. You'll get to meet a bunch of new people. I hear the science department is getting a former biology professor from Stanford." Of course she'd be excited over the science department. She wanted to be a biologist after all. One of her dreams was to discover a way to end the vampiric thirst for human blood. I merely grunted in reply. I always loved to hear her talk about something she was passionate about. The way she rambled on and on was cute and I could watch it forever, but tonight, I just couldn't stop thinking about what Yulia had said about Stasi's eating habit. Was there something wrong with me making Stasi lose her appetite? This was a recent thing after all and it happened after she... fed. "Stasi, when was the last time you ate?" I asked, nonchalantly. She merely shrugged, surprised at the change of subject. "Er... in terms of actually eating? Around lunch time. I've been going off the packs and mom's cooking since then." She said. Remember how I said that most human foods were unpleasant to vampires? Well that rule didn't apply to Yulia's cooking. Sure, vampires preferred actual blood to her human food, but that didn't take away that her food was excellent. She was a master chef and her food appealed to both humans and vampires alike. I'm positive she could've seriously give Gordon Ramsay a run for his money. "Aren't you hungry for blood? Like... do you need to feed?" I asked. She looked at me like I grew a second head. Her look softened and she reached up, cupping my cheeks. "Oh lyubov. I mean... yeah. Biologically, I'll always be just that little tweensy bit hungry for the real thing, but you don't have to worry about that. I won't be addicted to you or anything. SDPs and good old Russian food does me just fine." "Well... I mean, it's just... your mom.." I stammered, before biting my tongue, realizing I just threw Yulia under the bus. She sat up straight, getting off of me and looking at me with a shocked face. It didn't take long for said face to morph into indignation, her eyes narrowing. "What did you say?" She asked, sharply in her accent. It became more marked when she grew irritable. I held up my hands, a nervous smile etched on my face. "Hey... Stasi. I was um..." I couldn't even bullshit my way out of this one, she'd see right through it. That was one of the very few downsides (some may call it an upside) of growing up with the love of your life. They knew everything about you. They knew all about your tells when you lie, your likes, dislikes, pretty much everything. Resigned to the fact that i'd have to sell out Yulia and tap out, I lowered my head. "Alright, it's just... your mom's worried about you and she told me how you haven't really eaten a lot in the past few days. She just wanted to check on you, is all. She loves you, I love you, if something is wrong, I want to help fix it." I said, trying to paint Yulia in the best light as possible. She was just looking out for her daughter, after all. I expected Stasi to be angry, but all she did was look resigned. She brought her knees up, curling back up onto the bench, putting her chin on her knees, and leaned back onto me. "I should've known she'd find out. She's so observant." She murmured, sighing. "Chris, do you know a lot about vampire biology?" She asked, peering over at me. "Sure. Humans with big teeth." I said, my voice trailing off. I was trying to be funny, but to my defense, vampires were biologically the same as "normies". They age, they bleed, they can get pregnant, and they can die of natural causes. Just like regular humans. They just had marked differences in genetics. A dominant allele. (That's probably why you never really saw a half vampire or monster.) The allele was common giving them their traits. A slower heartbeat, ultra sensitive skin, allergies to silver, a longer lifespan, and of course, the thirst for human blood, the fangs behind the maxillary lateral incisors. "Fool." She said, bopping my lightly on the head with the palm of her hand. "You know how we have synthetic blood packs to sate the thirst we have? Well, they're really... er... 'un-filling'. Think of them like those protein smoothies that you sometimes drink. They give you the sense of being full, even though you're not, and give you those precious nutrients that your body needs. Now, if there was ever a super protein shake that made you full and a huge intake of those nutrients, that's like blood. Human blood gives way more nourishment than synthetic blood." She explained. "After feeding on you, it felt like I was... different. For once, the pangs of hunger for blood that is barely satisfied by those synthetic blood packs were no longer there. It felt amazing. That's why I haven't been eating much. The main reason i've been picking at my food was because I just wasn't hungry... and because I don't want to get fat either." She said. I laughed at that last bit. "You're anything but fat. You're beautiful." I said. She leaned her head back to give me a toothy grin as I softly kissed her on the forehead, relieved that Stasi's case of not eating food wasn't a symptom of something more serious. We stayed out there chatting and holding each other for a while, before Stasi's shivering made me announce that it was time for me to go home. It was the Bay Area after all and even though it was August, the cold gusts of wind from the Pacific Ocean made you shiver all the way down to the bone. After I took her inside, I said goodbye to her family (after insisting politely to Yulia that I couldn't stay for dinner) and left, driving the five minutes home. I was bopping my head to a Major Lazer song that was playing softly on the radio when I finally drove down my street. I lived all the way at the end of the cul de sac at a nice, small, cozy house surrounded by a cliche white picket fence. My BMW edged past my neighbors houses before finally coming upon my driveway, where my eyes widened open. "What the fuck?!" I gasped. In front of my house was a police cruiser, it's sirens giving an eerie glow of red and blue, but that's not what made surprised me. Illuminated by my headlights and the lights of the cruiser, it was obvious that my house had been vandalized. Emblazoned in blood red paint on the white garage door of my home were the words: 'MONSTER LOVERS'. Chapter 3: "Sir..." The officer began. "Robert." My dad replied, gruffly. "Robert... sorry. We asked around the neighborhood. Nobody saw anything." The officer said nervously. At least, I think he was nervous. My and my mom were at the dining table, baked chicken and mashed potatoes forgotten, listening intently to my dad speaking to the San Francisco Police Department officer at the front door. "Officer Thompson, me and my wife left work at eight in the morning. I didn't see the graffiti on my garage door. My son left to go to football practice at three in the afternoon. He sure as hell didn't see the graffiti on the garage door. I see the graffiti when I get back at seven. Are you telling me that this was done in broad daylight and nobody, I mean nobody, saw it?" "Well, I... uh... " The officer, stammered. My dad sure could be intimidating when he wanted to be. "I'll do one more round of questioning tomorrow afternoon, sir. Some people didn't answer their doors." "You do that. Have a good night, officer." My dad said, slamming the door shut. He walked back into the kitchen, rubbing his face tiredly. "Nobody saw anything, honey?" My mom asked. My dad sat down at his seat at the head of the table, patting me on the shoulder as he walked past me. "Nothing. It seemed a lot of people were looking in the other direction when those morons spray painted our garage door." He sighed, tiredly. "You know, right now, if I wasn't such a good wife, i'd have said I told you so." My mom said. She was talking about how she wanted to get security cameras on the outside of the house. "Yes, dear. I know, I should've listened. We'll talk more about this later, but for now..." He unfurled his cloth napkin, putting it on his lap. "Let's eat. I know how hungry you must be, son." He said, winking at me. I was glad to tuck in. Running around in full pads at football practice would've made anybody starving. I unfurled my cloth napkin, putting it on my lap and began eating. Dinner was silent, punctuated by the clicking of utensils on plates and the sounds of chewing. Dinner was never usually like this, it was actually fairly conversational. We were all just thinking about the message on our garage door. It wasn't until the silence was unbearably awkward did my dad finally speak. "So... Chris, how was practice today? The team all set for their game?" I chewed on my chicken thoughtfully, swallowing. "We're pretty good, dad. Everyone on the team played football at one point during high school before they were forced to transfer. I hope we win our next game, it'd certainly give those supremacists a smack in the mouth." My dad laughed boisterously. "I understand where you're coming from, son. It's a damn shame what those politicians are doing to these innocent people. Different schools, different establishments, different healthcare systems. No rights at all. Damn shame." He said, shaking his head as he sipped his water. It was a damn shame. You can't just discriminate someone because of what they look like, or are something where they had no control over. "So... Chris." My mom said, looking up at me from her meal. Her eyes had a mischievous glint to them. "I got a call from Principal Finch recently. She said some interesting things, but the most interesting thing of all, she wants to meet you the morning school starts. You'll have to be there at six in the morning. Not even the start of school yet and you're already getting noticed by the principal. That's not good." She tutted. "Oh! Speaking of school..." Her tone became stern. "No more staying up late playing video games or talking to Anna. The first semester of senior year is important. I know that Texas and the University of Washington withdrew their scholarships, but that doesn't mean that other schools won't be looking to snatch you up because of your grades and sports." Hah. Fat chance of that happening. I'm pretty sure i've been blacklisted by just about every good college in America. "Yes, mom." I replied, dutifully, the way any other son would while being chastised or lectured by their mother. "I'll make sure to keep my grades up." If there was anything my parents instilled in me, it was to always take school seriously. I was there to learn, not throw a football around. That was just a bonus. "Good boy." She said, satisfied by my answer, as we lapsed into eating dinner in relative silence once more. I finished first, putting my dishes in the sink, making sure to rinse off any leftover sauces and load it into the dishwasher. After thanking my parents for a wonderful dinner and bidding them good night, I headed upstairs to take a quick shower, then finally depart for my room. My room wasn't anything to brag about. It wasn't extravagant, nor was it staggering in size. To begin with, the space I had to work with wasn't that big. It wasn't furnished that well either. On one end of my room was my desk, the glossy black surface given a blueish hue from the open screen of my laptop. A small flat screen television was mounted on the wall above my desk, with all the trimmings, an XBox and stereo system. It didn't exactly scream affluence, but it didn't display discomfort either.. I picked up my laptop, maneuvering my way to the bed and making sure not to accidently kick my bed frame on accident. I plopped down on my full size bed, settling back on the comfortable pillows, sighing in relief and contentment. It was nice to decompress after physically exerting myself at football practice. I settled onto the bed, finding a comfortable position before I opened up a saved Word document and began typing away. It wasn't even senior year (yet) and I already had self-diagnosed myself with senioritis. Much to the chagrin of Lucy and Stasi, I had procrastinated on the summer assignments that my school had assigned to us over our break. Due to Belcourt being such a new school, the amount of assignments we had wasn't too bad and I had put it off. After multiple "Oh, I can do this later." and "I'll have plenty of time to do this tomorrow." I was reaping what I had sown. I was halfway through slaving away at my ten page English Literature analysis of why Shakespeare said this and why he said that when my phone buzzed on the night stand, alerting me that I had a text. Grunting in exertion, I leaned over and grabbed it, glancing at the screen, the smiling face of Stasi greeting me. About to get ready for sleep. Just wanted to say that I LOVE you, Christopher Robert Williams! X I smiled at the both random and filled with affection text message. It was just so... Stasi. To her, it was the little things that were important, whether it came from me or her. It didn't matter what it was. It could be something as simple as her jamming notes in my locker saying various things or me always having a spare synthetic pack of blood in my locker in case she forgot hers and it was feeding time. It was a good thing those didn't need to be refrigerated (even though they tasted better that way) and had long expiration dates. I opened up my keyboard, tapping out a quick reply and sending it. Love you too, Anastasia Antonova Sokolov. I can't believe how lucky I am to have you in my life. Xx I didn't want to mention the vandalism on my house. It'd put a damper on what was such an affectionate moment. I set my phone back down on my bed, a smile gracing my lips after the romantic text that Stasi sent me. It was a half an hour before my phone dinged again, notifying me that someone sent me a text. That was fairly odd, usually Stasi replied back in rapid time. She didn't usually sleep this early, even though she did say she was about to get ready for bed. Maybe she was in the shower? The sheer thought of the water cascading down her beautiful, naked body made my mouth water. I opened up my phone, staring at the text on the screen. The onscreen profile picture of the grinning auburn haired girl told me it was Jazz. Can u send me the answers for AP Government summer assignment? X I guess I wasn't the only one reaping what I was sowing. Chapter 4: I parked my car in an empty spot marked 'Humans Only Parking', yawning as I pulled up the E-Brake. It was a federal law to have parking spaces closer to establishments be designated Humans Only, with punishments for breaking said law incurring hefty fines. I usually liked to park farther away in the 'normal' parking spaces as a sign of silent protest, but I wasn't willing to walk the extra 50 yards this morning. I was a Nelson Mandela, I know. Reaching behind the steering wheel, I fumbled for my key sleepily, taking it out of the ignition and sliding it into the pocket of my hoodie. On the dashboard, the digital clock read 0632. It was much too early in the morning for this. I deserved to be in bed snoring away right about now. I turned my head to the right. "Ready?" I said to Stasi. The empty seat didn't reply back. "Oh... right." I mumbled. See what I mean? My sleep deprived brain didn't even register that I hadn't picked Stasi up this morning. Since I had to go to school so early to meet with the Principal, I told Stasi the night before to drive separately so she didn't have to wake up so early just to sit around and do nothing. She insisted that she come along to provide me company, but in the end, the prospect of another hour of sleep proved to be too irresistible. Yulia would instead be dropping her, Elena, and Viktor off and i'd be taking her home. The car light turned on as I opened the door, slipping out of the car and shivering slightly in the cool foggy Bay Area air. I zipped up my hoodie, slinging my black Northface backpack over my shoulders and staring at the looming campus in front of me. It didn't look too bad. It was a gated in campus with four main buildings, supposedly one for classrooms, administrations, a multi use room, and... i'm not sure what the fourth one was. The football field was already familiar to me, being off to the left of the campus. Behind it was the currently-being-renovated hockey rink. Shuffling one foot in front of the other, I walked through the haze in the direction of the administration building. Even though I had zero trouble finding parking so I didn't have to walk far, a considerable amount of cars were already parked snugly in their spots farther away from the Humans Only Parking. Must be teachers. After all, most, if not all, our teachers were monsters. After some walking, I finally arrived at my destination, the letters "BELCOURT HIGH SCHOOL" looming over me as I strolled into the administration building. The interior of the building was modern, resembling the lobby of a high class hotel more than the administration office of a school. I looked around, admiring the architecture, before the middle-aged receptionist coughed loudly behind her counter. "Are you going to stand there, or are you going to tell me why you're here so early, young man?" I whipped my head around, sheepishly. "Sorry." I said, coming over to the counter she sat behind. "I got an email sayi-..." My voice trailed off as she held up her long-nailed finger, ordering me vocal-lessly to be silent. That was rude. I drummed my fingers on the counter top as she typed away on the computer, paying me zero heed and attention. While I was waiting, I thought it'd be a great time to play a timely classic. The Guess-What-Kind-of-Monster-This-Person-Is-Without-Being-Racist-Game. She was in her late 30s. Her high cheeks, pointed chin, and large irised eyes were human enough qualities and could've fooled anybody. That trend stopped there dead in it's tracks. Under the gray tresses that escaped from her bun, round tabby furred ears were perched high on her head. Her long, arched tail swished behind her. She was a cat girl/woman for sure. Don't forget the crappy attitude... the standoffish demeanor... oh wait, that's racist and generalizing a whole race. Scratch that off my definition. "Riiggght..." She finally said, clicking her mouse and sending whatever memo she had. She turned up to look at me, a smile on her face. "Apologies for that. I can't type when someone talks to me, and I can't talk when i'm trying to type. What are you here for again?" Her attitude changing as if it were a flip of the coin. From crabby to curious, like a cat. Go figure. "I'm er... i'm here to meet with Principal Finch? My mother was sent an email a few days ago about it and it told me to come to school early today." I babbled. She gave me a look, her eyes roving up and down from the counter. "Christopher Williams?" She asked, curiously. I merely nodded my head. Her smile grew wider as she pointed to the entrance to the right of her. "You're late. Just down the hall, Chris. She's expecting you, but she's in a meeting with some of the teachers, she told me you can just walk in." She said. I nodded my head gratefully. "Thank you so much." Her hands roved over the keyboard, but she was still looking at me. "Not a problem. My name is Mrs. Casarano, i'm the receptionist at Belcourt High School. It's nice to meet you. If you need anything, don't hesitate to find me whenever." I started walking to the door, speaking over my shoulder. "Got it." I said. "And I will, don't you worry! I get lost pretty often." Mrs. Casarano giggled behind me as I walked through the open entrance into the office spaces. There was what looked like a nurse's office and a few other empty rooms. They were devoid of people but judging from the tacked up photos of kids, drawings, and little trinkets, they were already moved into. I'll admit, i'm naturally curious. When i'm left alone in a space, one way or another, i'll end up exploring. Not snooping around, there's a difference. So, I did exactly what I said i'd do in an unfamiliar place. I started to poke my head into a few empty offices to look around and get acquainted with where everything was. I didn't spend too much time on that though, since Mrs. Casarano said she was expecting me. I didn't want to keep her waiting. I continued to walk around, until finally, I came across the teacher's lounge. Looking in through the glass window on the door, I saw what looked like a conference room mixed with a kitchen, a refrigerator and microwave tucked into the corner. Inside was a large table, with around twenty chairs surrounding it. Every chair was taken and there were even people standing up. Sitting at the head of the table was what appeared to be Principal Finch, who was enraptured in a humorous talk with another teacher. I peeked around the room, catching the eyes and bald head of Coach Freddy. A smile broke on his face as he nudged the teacher next to him, pointing at me, and beckoning me to come inside. I placed my hand on the doorknob, twisting it and coming inside. "Christopher Williams!" An excited voice squeaked as soon as I opened the door and entered the room. A short, squat dwarf with a long beard and a suit that could've fit a child gave me a bow, his long beard nearly touching the floor. "An honor to meet you. Huge honor! Very big honor!" He said, reaching up, firmly grasping my hand and giving it a shake, up and down. My mouth dropped in surprise as I struggled to find a reply to the excitable man-child in a suit. "Nice to meet you too, Mr..." I leaned downwards. "Coppergut! Cedric Coppergut." He replied, excitedly and proudly, a sharp contrast to the usual dull and stoic dwarves that i've come to meet in my life. "I teach in the Math Department. Geometry and Statistics." From the way his chest puffed up in pride from talking about the subject, he was extremely passionate about teaching. I let go of his hand, which he was still shaking. "Looks like i'll have you as a teacher than, Mr. Coppergut. I'm taking Statistics this year." My words had a huge effect on him, nearly making him bowl over in happiness. "Thank you Cedric for the very enthusiastic introduction to Mr. Williams." Mrs. Finch said smoothly, standing up to come towards me. At full height, she came up to my height of 6'3'' with no problem at all. She was in her early 40s, but could've passed for late 30s. It was all in genetics, I suppose. Through her hair, pointed ears jutted out like mountains among a field of straw colored tresses. She walked around the table and crossed the room as if she was walking on water before coming up to me and extending her hand. Up close, I realized she was even taller than me. I grasped her hand, shaking it. "Welcome to Belcourt High School, Christopher. We met earlier in the Summer, but I didn't know if you wanted to transfer or not. I daresay that i'm pleased that you did. Come, sit. We have much to talk about." I looked around the room at the unfamiliar faces, feeling as if I was a bacterial sample under a microscope. "Er... here, ma'am?" I said, unsure. She raised an eyebrow. "Yes... here." She said. "Is something wrong with that proposition, Christopher?" I shook my head no. "Good. May someone retrieve a chair for young Christopher, please?" She turned around, returning to her spot at the head of the table. Mr. Coppergut furnished a chair next to him, patting it to get my attention. I sat down between him and another tall man, my eyes flickering around the room. Boy, Anton wasn't kidding when he said most, if not all, of the staff here at the school were monsters. With what looked like the sole exception of Coach Freddy, everyone here was a monster one way or another. I was busy counting out and putting a name to all the different species when Mrs. Finch spoke. "Well, now that we are all here, let us begin. Christopher, meet Adrianna Euthixie." Finch pointed at the Dryad to the left of her. "She's the student leadership advisor for this school year and when she heard you were transferring, she had some big ideas for you. Adrianna, will you please inform Chris on.." "Certainly!" Ms. Euthixie said, a bit too excitedly. "What we had in mind is... well, looking at your previous school records at Jefferson High School, your resume is extremely impressive. You were in leadership three years in a row and was President of the Junior Class. You organized a bunch of fundraisers and cool events while managing to somehow juggle maintaining your excellent grades and sports! Belcourt High School has a student body of over 1,000 new transfers. The problem is, we haven't had any chance to host elections." She looked guiltily at Mrs. Finch. "Which was my bad, boss. So, we're hoping that you'd take the position of student body President. You'd be good for the role." She said, finally taking that deep breath that she so needed. Imagine that, the face of a solely monster school being a human! I was Nelson Mandela! I was astounded. Not at the offer of being the President of Belcourt, but the fact that she spoke so long without taking in a breath of air. "I er... I...um..." Words stumbled out of my mouth. "What he means is that he accepts." Coach Freddy said, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Right, that. Yep. I accept. Thanks, coach." "No problem, kid. Just make sure you don't lose focus on the season. We have a game friday." "Yes, coach." "Now that that is rectified," Principal Finch said, smoothly. "Onto our next part of the agenda.." Chapter 5: I could've stayed in the Teacher's Lounge until 1st Period, but Mrs. Finch booted me out, telling me to go see the front office to see if 'The Lone Receptionist' needed any help processing the 1,000 students. On the way out, I gave Coach Freddy a scornful look. He must've told stories to Principal Finch about one of the many mishaps I had working as an office assistant with his wife back in Jefferson. In the office, Mrs. Casarano put me to work right away at one of the unused computers, delighted to have some help. "Your job is to open up the files for each student and retrieve their schedules...for example..." She reached over me, typing in my name into the computer's database. My file popped up along with my information, a picture of myself, and... my species? "See where it says schedules? You have to click that and print it. You have to print them out fast to keep the line moving. Tell me if you need help, typing and clicking can be super difficult." She said, patting me on the shoulder and leaving me to my own devices, her tail swishing behind her. I turned back to the computer, seeing that I still had some time left. I clicked on the search bar, typing LUCY BOHANNON into it. Her file popped up immediately, her smiling face appearing as the picture she took at registration. Her pale, silvery hair was covering up six of her eight eyes, her main two ones where human's should be the only ones showing. I scrolled down, looking at the information. Sure enough, it directly outlined her species. I was confused for a second on why that was necessary, but I remembered. "Oh... that's right." I mumbled to myself. All monsters were required to submit their name to a database by the government. The database was accessible by schools, hospitals, police, pretty much every government establishment. It was supposed to be so that they could easily accommodate monsters better, but there were theories that the government did it so they could keep check on populations and demographics in case they needed to "re-appropiate" populations. I clicked on her schedule, printing it out and setting it to the side. I did the same for Jazz, Stasi, Viktor, Elena, and Ricky. I didn't want them to wait in line anymore than they had to. Benefits of having a best friend as an office assistant right? By the time I had just printed out Stasi's schedule (which I hoped was identical to mine) and set it to the side, the sound of the door opening caught my attention and I looked up at the young freshman who walked in, shyly looking around the lobby. My eyes darted down to the screen, seeing that he was a bit early. "How can I help you?" I asked. He came up to me, nervous. "Is this where I pick up my schedule?" I nodded in reply, holding my hand out. "Yep, let me just see your ID, buddy." He removed his black lanyard from around his neck, handing it over to me, his school badge hanging from the end. I set it down on the counter, looking at it as I typed his name into the database. "You're Christopher Williams, aren't you?" He asked. "Huh?" I looked up, confused, the printer whirring to life as it began to print out the schedule of Freshman Neville Poole. "Christopher Williams, isn't that who you are? The person that's dating the vampire?" He repeated. "I'm not dating anybody, but yeah, I guess that's my name, why?" I said, reaching over to grab the sheet of paper, handing it to Neville along with his school ID. "It's just... you're going to be the only human at this school. Aren't you like... scared or something?" I thought on that for about half a second and my answer came back just as fast. "Nope." I said, smiling. In truth, I wasn't scared of anything except spiders... which was ironic considering Lucy was my best friend. "Why would I be scared of normal people? Anyways... here's your schedule with all your classes, the room numbers can be found..." I pointed to it with my finger. "Here. Welcome to Belcourt High School, hopefully, i'll see you around Neville." I said, my attention being diverted to the door where another group of students were entering. It was easy at first, processing the few trickles of students that came in. What soon became a small trickle, became a fairly big flow. Right, nothing I couldn't handle. I was pretty good at multi-tasking. That flow soon became a massive flood at around 8:10, 20 minutes before the first bell was due to ring. I was furiously typing away at my computer, saying a plethora of: "Hey, how was your summer?" "Welcome to Belcourt High School." "Thank you for being so patient, as you can see, we're a bit understaffed." "Here's your schedule, hope you have a great day!" It was nothing that me and Mrs. Casarano couldn't handle, but some of the students waiting in line in the growing lines in the lobby were growing impatient. It was nearly 8:20 when just as the lines began to taper off. I was standing up, handing a young dragonnewt her schedule when the next person in line said, "Man, the service here is terrible!" My head snapped up, my eyes narrowing, which promptly melted away when I saw a smiling Viktor get softly whacked across the head by an equally smiling Stasi. I sat back down on my chair, an exasperated smile on my face. "I don't serve your kind here." I said in a joking manner. "Like hell you don't." Elena said, bouncing on the heels of her feet, cutting her older brother, and holding out her hand. I stared her down for a moment. "Are you going to say the magic words?" I asked. "The magic words." She replied, snapping her fingers. "Schedule, please." Normally when someone gave me this kind of attitude, I gave attitude back, but from Elena, it was endearing as hell. I reached under the printer for the schedules I pre-printed for the Sokolov family, handing both over to Elena and Viktor, to a chorus of thank yous. All that was left was Stasi. "You're late." I said. "I'm not late. You're just early." She replied, holding her hand out and leaning daintily forward on the counter, her long raven hair spilled around her like darkness. "Sorry I couldn't pick you up this morning." I said, guiltily, reaching for the schedule that was pinned under the printer. Stasi shrugged. "I got to sleep in and spend time with my siblings. What's not to love?" There was just a hint of sarcasm to it, but it was barely there. Stasi loved to spend time with her siblings, almost as much as I did. I handed Stasi her schedule, which fortunately, was nearly identical to mine, save for our names and one discrepancy including a Pre-Law class. My courses were made up of requests I made the year before at Jefferson. They carried over to Belcourt. "Here you go, darling." I said, teasingly. Stasi gave me a dazzling smile as she took the schedule and fitted it into her binder. "Want me to wait for you so we can head to class together?" I nodded. "Yeah, i'm actually just about done here. Let me just log out." There weren't that many students left in the lobby. "Mrs. Casarano, can you handle the rest?" I asked, turning over to her. She turned to me, irked that I interrupted her conversation with another student. "Yes, you're free to go. Thanks for all your help this morning, Christopher." She said. I rapped my knuckles on the counter, logging out of the computer and shutting off the monitor, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and walking around the counter to meet with Stasi, who promptly grabbed hold of my hand and lead me out to the quad so we could go to our next class in the other building, AP Statistics. The quad was nice, if not a bit empty. Everyone must've already been in class, balking at the process of being late on the first day of school. We were walking and enjoying the mutual silence until... "You know how you always tell me everything and I tell you everything?" She said, out of the blue. I nodded. She was more of a confidant than Lucy, even more so ever since we came out to each other. I could tell her anything and not get judged. "Yeah." I said, slightly apprehensive at what she was going to say next... oh god, please don't talk about... "Then how come you never told me your house got vandalized?" Stasi asked, her tone neutral. Shit. I blanched. At least she wasn't angry, right? Wrong. "How'd you know about that?" I asked. "Your parents told my parents, who then told me, who is now mad that her best friend and love of her life didn't notify her when it happened." Of course my parents told the Sokolovs. Our parents were like me and Stasi. Thicker than thieves. Stasi sighed. "Chris, why didn't you tell me?" "I didn't want you to worry about something trivial, that's all. It was just a bit of paint. Our garage door looks as good as new with a fresh coat." I said. Stasi stopped walking, looking around the quad for any sign of anybody before wrapping her arms around my neck. "Chris... I love you with all my heart. I don't know what i'd do if you ever got in trouble or got hurt because you transferred schools and picked sides. If anything ever happens, you have to let me know, alright?" I stared into her crystal blue eyes, eyes that I fell in love with a long time ago. "Alright, Stasi." I said, resigned. "I just didn't want you worrying about me over nothing, is all." Stasi stroked my cheek affectionately. "I'll always worry about you, idiot. I worry every time you step on the field, when you step on the ice, when you stick up for your friends, and when you transfer schools to be with us. That's what people who loved each other since middle school do. Promise you'll let me know if anything happens." "I promise." "Good boy." She said, smiling and giving me a peck on the lips. "Now that we got that out of the way, let's get to class." She led me off with a bit of an upbeat to her step. Coming into the C-Building (C is for classrooms. I know, I never would've guessed), we found Mr. Coppergut's class with relative ease. The bell ringing seconds later after we walked in, all eyes were turned on us. "Mr. Williams!" Mr. Coppergut said in his upbeat manner that I remembered from earlier this morning. "You're almost late. I would've thought you were lost. What kind of class president gets lost in his own school?" He said, from his podium at the front of the class. Stasi looked at me confused. "Tell you later." I mouthed, before turning back to Coppergut. "I got held up by a certain someone." I said. Stasi nudged me hard in the side. "What he means to say is, sir, is that he apologizes for being so close to the bell and promises to come early next time." Stasi said, smoothly. Mr. Coppergut looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. Stasi always had a way of talking or charming her way out of any problem. She didn't like talking alot, but when she did, people listened. "Apology accepted. Thank you, Ms..." "Sokolov. Anastasia Sokolov." "Anastasia... ah yes. Of course. Please take a seat here next to Mr. Sands. Chris, take the seat next to Ms. Sokolov... yes, that's the ticket. Ok, now everybody is here, yes. Let us begin! AP Statistics... one of the most useful math courses you'll ever take." He began the introduction to his course. Mr. Coppergut was upbeat and appealed to everyone in the classroom. With the assistance of another student, textbooks were issued out, along with our first assignments. He gave us a quick lecture on how to analyze and read data before cutting us loose, advising us that: "the only way to really experience AP Statistics for what it is, is to explore it on your own. If you need guidance, feel free to approach the podium!" Second period Law was the only class I had without Stasi in it, much to my dismay. When she wasn't there it was like half of me had been torn away. Thankfully, I had convinced Lucy to take Law with me, so that filled the void up for the next hour. Her chair was missing a back, modified to fit her massive carapace. It was positioned next to mine at the back of the classroom. When I walked in, Mr. Zasor, a manticore, gave me a curt nod with a "Nice to meet you, Mr. Williams." After no more than a quick introduction and a brief telling of what to expect, he dove right into the course, beginning to talk about John Locke's Social Contract. I was enraptured during the whole lecture. I loved learning about the law. It was one of my real academic passions. I was decent at all other subjects, but it was something about history that really caught my attention. I was taking meticulous and careful notes, making sure to write down all bits of information I could. "How was your Stasi?" Lucy whispered over to me over the droning of Mr. Zasor. "Huh?" I replied, looking up at her. Did I hear her right? That sentence didn't even grammatically make sense. Her eyes, all of them, shifted over to me, a mischievous look on her face. "I said, how was your Summer? You never sent me pictures of the trip you and Anna took to Russia. Me and Jazz were so jealous." Oh, I misheard her. A smile broke out on my face at the memories. Sure, it was cold in Russia, but it was just the two of us (not including her family). There was nothing like exploring an unknown city with just you and a best friend. I continued to scribble down notes in my barely legible calligraphy. "It was fun." I said. "Is that it? It was 'fun'?" She asked quietly, her voice growing quite worried. "Chris, you didn't do it did you? Dammit, that had to have been one of the best times ever to have told her how you felt. You just can't keep putting it off. One day, your chance is going to be lost forever." You remember how I said that Lucy always had an ear open to me and was one of my biggest confidants? Back in tenth grade, I told her of my feelings for Stasi and she always gave me advice on what to do, how to do it, when to do it, and where to do it. I just always managed to chicken out at the last minute. Even though I felt guilty that I couldn't tell her of the next step me and Stasi took (I wanted to, but Stasi didn't) in our relationship, I couldn't help but feel that this was all a bit funny in a way. "I know, Lucy." I said, smiling at the irony. "I just never found the right time to tell her on the trip." She looked at me disapprovingly. "Whatever you say, Chris. I know how you feel about her and I just want you to be happy is all. Maybe if you got it off your chest, everything would work itself out, you know?" She looked back down at her notes, returning to the lecture. All the while, I was thinking about how right Lucy was. Once we get it off our mutual chests, everything did end up working into place, for the better. I had a free third period with Stasi, Lucy, and Jazz next. Ricky, unfortunately, wasn't with us, being stuck in an engineering class. Free periods were something new, according to the Vice Principal, a Mr. David Anderson. He said they were a way for us to do whatever we wanted for a whole period. Well, I mean, we couldn't do whatever we wanted. We could just kick our feet back, relax, visit a teacher, or do homework. Fourth period was English Literature with Ricky, Jazz, and Stasi taught by a young Dryad, a Ms. Palmer who had freshly graduated college recently. Unable to find a job due to what she was, her credentials were gladly accepted at Belcourt High School. Bully for her other employers, Ms. Palmer was young, pretty, and clearly a fan favorite of the male portion of the classroom, with the sole exception of yours truly. Fifth and Sixth period were taken up by AP Biology and AP Government respectively. I only took AP Biology because I knew Stasi was going to take it and she needed a lab partner, having failed to break up Lucy and Jazz as lab partners. I hated science, but I hated disappointing Stasi even more. Besides, it didn't look all that bad. There were only 18 students that took the class in total. Mr. Carson, the biology teacher had told us that there wouldn't be a whole lot of testing in the class, but in fact, there'd be a lot more hands on activities. Optimistic. My final period of the day, AP Government, was taught by an elderly Mrs. Olsen. It was a government class and also supposedly had a segment where we'd learn all about the different species of Monsters and their respective cultures. It wasn't just a segment to Belcourt, but rather, to every school in the district. They had to know all about the other species that co-existed with them. I didn't really know why I was taking the class. It wasn't required or anything. I just needed a fifth class to fill out my schedule, and the whole gang that they were going to take it with me so why not? Our little group took up an entire table in the back to ourselves. Well, Ricky had his own little custom-made desk scooted up next to our table to accommodate him. With his girth and size, he'd never be able to fit a regular desk or table all on his own, it'd buckle under his weight. Classes with giants or other large monsters on their rosters were given special chairs, enlarged and reinforced with titanium to support him. All in all, not a bad day first day at school. I could actually see myself liking it. The teachers were nice and passionate about their subjects, the classrooms weren't dilapidated, the curriculum was new and modern, and best of all, my friends were all here with me. Not my friends, my family. I was with my family. Chapter 6: I'd like to be cliche and say that the school week passed lethargically and slowly, dragging on at a snail's pace, but in truth, it didn't. The week went by in the blink of an eye and before I even knew it, it was Friday. Everyone knows what that meant, game day. Yep, today was the day we were going up against Jefferson High School, my alma mater. We were waiting. It's indescribable. There was no feeling like it, waiting for a game in the gym, the silence so thick you could cut it like a hot knife going through butter. Every man was quiet and off in his own little area, either stretching or staring off into space. I was in the corner doing the latter, going through everything in my head. Contrary to popular belief, football isn't all about the biggest dudes in the school running into each other at full speed, even if that's what it looks like. It actually requires a lot of mental thought and studying. On top of homework, practice, and time spent with Stasi, I always managed to put in at least an hour of studying film each night. I was starting to think that maybe it wasn't enough. Self doubt is a killer. I was startled out of my thoughts when Ricky sat next to me, his pads already on and buckled in, the white #85 a sharp contrast against the royal blue jersey. "Did I scare you, amigo?" He taunted, patting me on the shoulder and nearly breaking the damn thing. I looked up at him, shaking my head no. My talkative demeanor was gone, I was always this quiet before game day. Of course, Ricky was always a goddamn chatterbox. "It's ok to be nervous." He said. "Vik over there looks like he's about to throw up." He pointed his finger across the gym at Viktor, who indeed looked like he was about to throw up. He had the 1,000 yard stare of a shell shocked veteran, nervous about what the next two hours were about to entail. Our Junior Varsity team were already taking to the field. The score reports weren't a good sign. We were losing, badly. "Do you think we're going to win?" He asked. I nodded. "Even though they've got some good players, we've got even better ones, and a better coach." I said, all my confidence behind it. Ricky bumped me with his shoulder pads, buying it. "You're right, amigo. They might have a better team, but we got you." I was touched at the last part. He finally lapsed into silence, closing his eyes. Just as I was about to say something, maybe some quick review on blocking schemes in case we were going to hand the ball off to Viktor, the door to the gym opened and Coach Freddy walked in. "Gentlemen, it's time to get ready." He said to everybody. "Get your shoulders on and get ready to take to the field. JV's almost done." Almost as if we were soldiers preparing for battle, we methodically put on our equipment. I buckled on my pads, pulling down my jersey over them, the #14 becoming my designation for the next 2 hours. I had wanted #12, for, you know, Tom Brady and all, but it was already taken by one of our receivers. I could've overruled him, but I didn't want to become 'that guy'. I tightened my straps, slapping my shoulder pads to make sure they were on right and swinging my arms to test my range of motion. I looked around at my team to make sure everyone was doing everything correctly and saw that Viktor was having a bit of trouble. I made a tsk sound, coming over to help him with his back strap. "Thanks." He muttered. "Don't mention it." I replied, nudging him on the shoulder. He had impressed Coach enough to put him as our starting halfback, second string Cornerback, and starting kick returner. He'd be working beside me both on offense and defense, seeing as I was the starting quarterback and second string Free Safety. Coach Freddy looked around at us. "Ya'll ready?" He asked. "Yes, coach." We chorused back. We had spent days preparing for this team, admittedly, not enough time to build up our chemistry, but we had prepared as best as we could. We were as ready as ever. "Men, before we get outside. I just want to tell you all that I am very proud of you. You all did a phenomenal job and we'll keep this going. You've been prepared, now it's time to show everyone what you guys can do. Everyone link up, and let's get outside." I put on my helmet, strapping it in. After I heard the two 'clicks' telling me that I had locked my helmet on, I grasped Ricky's hand, my hand becoming engulfed in his. It was a tradition over at Jefferson that we enter the stadium holding one another's hand. Coach Freddy always said it showed unity and I wasn't one to disagree. We were at the front of the line and Coach Freddy turned to look at us with a proud look in his eye. The two players he had coached since Freshman year had grown up when he wasn't looking. The quarterback who had entered the team as a 5'6'' undersized string bean had shot up to become me, a 6'3'' Quarterback who was still a bit of a string bean. The gigantic giant that had entered the team as a... gigantic giant, was still a gigantic giant. Just a gigantic giant with better catching abilities. "You two are the captains going out for the coin toss. Everyone else on the team looks up to you." He said to the both of us. We nodded, replying: "Yes, Coach." He gave the entire team one last look, before nodding. "Alright... let's go." He said, leading us out of the gym, our cleats clicking on the asphalt and sidewalk as we began the long march to the stadium. From where I was, all the way across the school, I could already hear the crowd. The stadium must've been packed. A lot of the student body had expressed interest in going, no doubt helped by the extensive week-long advertisements by the cheer leading squad and leadership team. Their families must've come too. When we finally came into the stadium, I felt myself smiling. I loved football, the game, the way it's played, but I loved moments like these when we walked in. It made me feel like I was a hero. When the crowd caught sight of our royal blue helmets marching into the stadium, they jumped to their feet applauding like a thundering stampede of horses, the fresh memories of JV's defeat expunged from their minds, no doubt by the pretty dancing cheerleaders. My eyes peeked into the packed stands, trying to catch any sign of Stasi and her family, but they were nowhere in sight on the upper levels. I knew they were there, I just wasn't looking hard enough. The stands were truly packed. I don't think i've ever seen so many different species of monster people all at one location. The line finally came to a stop at our end zone and I let go of Ricky's hand to look at my team. "This is what we prepared for guys. Those are our people in the stands. Let's go make sure they don't leave here disappointed, yeah?" I shouted over the deafening din of the crowd. "Know what you're supposed to do, play hard, play fast, and let's have some fun. Alright, bring it in! Minotaurs on me, Minotaurs on three. One, two, three!" "Minotaurs!" Everyone screamed. We all broke off into our individual positions on offense. I was to warm up with the wide receivers and running backs for around fifteen minutes. Boosted by our home field advantage, we were ready to go to war against the maroon and black team on the opposite sideline. I had just finished completing a pass to Viktor when we were recalled back to our sideline for the coin toss. As I was lining up next to Ricky, Coach tapped me on the shoulder. "Remember what I said about winning the toss." He yelled. I merely nodded at him. Always defer, let the opponent come to you, he always said. The ref at midfield signaled for us to come towards him, along with the other side line's captains. As we walked closer, I squinted at the numbers and recognized one of them (#2) as my old teammate, Jesse Johansson, my old backup. He looked like a different animal. Still a bit shorter than me, but more muscle packed on him. He wasn't so much as a skinny kid no longer. The look in his eye was different too, his usually passive demeanor was replaced by cold hard aggression. "Jesse, looks like Coach made you the starting QB. But captain? I never expected that one." I said diplomatically, when we came to the midfield. That was an understatement. Jesse's leadership ability was abysmal. Jesse grinned maliciously at me. "Yeah, ever since your pussy ass went and switched schools. How's the vampire bitch doing?" He always had a mouth on him, but that was uncalled for. No one says that about Stasi and gets away with it. "You little motherf-..." I began, angrily. "Save it for the game, number fourteen or i'll flag you." The referee said, annoyed. "Jefferson, as the visiting team, you get to decide heads or tails." Just as the referee flicked the coin, Jesse confidently said, "Heads." The coin landed on the turf, me and Ricky leaning forward to look at it. "The call is heads. Would you like to kick or receive the ball?" Jesse thought for a moment. "Receive." The referee nodded, signaling up to the box where the announcer was. "Jefferson has won the coin toss and has elected to receive the ball." I stuck out my hand, shaking the other two Jefferson captains' hands, but Jesse skipped over me and Ricky. "Good luck, pussy." He taunted. I was just about to retort before I was roughly pulled back by Ricky who guided me into the sideline. "Not worth fighting that little runt. He's trying to get into your head." As we walked back to the sideline, I looked up at the stands, trying to catch one glimpse of Stasi. I was just about to give up when I saw her, wearing my white away jersey, #14. She was waving at me along with her parents, my parents, Elena, and a bunch of other people that suspiciously looked like businessmen/women. I thought I saw a few of them from somewhere, but I just couldn't put a name on it. I was still thinking about it when we lined up on the sideline and the national anthem was sung. It wasn't until fourth quarter did things get really interesting. Chapter 6.5: I had my helmet off, staring at the field. Our defense was on our own twenty and doing their best to hold out Jefferson High School from scoring. My eyes flitted to the scoreboard, 21-14, we were in the lead with 1:53 left to go. All we needed was just one stop, one end to their drive, and we were going to win our first football game ever. I was impressed, we've lasted this long so far and showed everybody that Belcourt High School Football was serious. More than that, we showed that monsters aren't inferior to humans, denying them the sweeping blowout that the people at Jefferson had predicted. "Set, go!" I heard Jesse yell, as he dropped back, cocking his arm to pass the ball to one of his receivers. "C'mon..." I murmured. "Sack him." Our defensive line was wreaking havoc on his offensive line, breaking down the pocket. Jesse tucked the ball, scrambling to the right, with two of our were defensive linemen in hot pursuit, snarling and baying to take him down. I stood up to watch the ball, my heart gripped in fear as Jesse cocked his arm back and threw the ball as hard as he could at his receiver already in the end zone, who promptly caught it and dove to the ground. The referees signaled touchdown. "Fuck!" I yelled, the stands groaning in disbelief that our defense couldn't step up for one, single drive. Ricky rested a hand on my shoulder. "We knew it wasn't going to be easy, amigo." He said. I looked at him. Like me, he was drenched in sweat, but more so. He had clocked in at both defensive end and tight end/fullback, having only been pulled out moments before because Coach Freddy knew we were going to need him rested up for an offensive drive. They put me at Safety and Cornerback for a few plays in the second or third quarter. "We just needed one stop." I moaned, putting on my helmet, clicking it in, watching as our kick return took to the field. "Viktor Sokolov, vampire number twenty five and Valerian Hightower, elf number eighty three to return the kick." The announcer said into his mic, his voice magnified and resounding all around the stadium. Excited by the prospect of a comeback for the win, the crowd was on their feet, cheering, and I found myself yelling among them. "C'mon, Vik. Take it to the house!" I screamed. Casey Faulk, my old teammate at Jefferson, ran up to the ball, booting it high like a mortar, far away from Valerian Hightower and into the hands of Viktor Sokolov. I was somewhat in envy that Jefferson had a such a good kicker, because Belcourt couldn't kick if their lives depended on it. "C'mon, Viktor.." I murmured, as he took off, bobbing and weaving through defenders before someone finally got their hands around him, taking him down. "Viktor Sokolov, vampire number twenty five, returns a 40 yard kick 19 yards to the 29 yard line. Not bad, but not too good either. I stared at the clock. 1:33 left, three timeouts, and 71 yards to go. A hand kept me in place before I could head onto the field. I turned around, looking at Coach Freddy. "You got this. 538 Fullback Flare." He said, before slapping me on the helmet and pushing me onto the field. I stepped in front of my formation, looking back at the other goal line, 71 yards away. From here, it looked impossibly long. I turned back to my guys. "You all knew it was going to be a battle. Let's keep fighting, now. Show them what we're made of. Let's go, 538 Fullback Flare. 538 Fullback Flare. On one, on one, ready..." "Break." Everybody said, going to their positions. I stared over at the stands before I called for the ball, seeing Stasi biting her nails with her fangs, a habit that she never managed to break since elementary school. I held out my hands to my center. "Down.... Reeeeeeeeaaaaaaaddddy..... Set 180..... Hutty-hut!" The ball was snapped into my hands and I dropped back, looking around my formation for my recievers. My offensive line was tired, but so was Jefferson's, their starters haven't been given rest since halftime. I was given plenty of time, my eyes snapping over to my slot receiver, Joel Rocca, who was running a post, the man covering him in quick pursuit. I braced my body, bringing my arm back to throw, before pumping forward and lobbing the ball with an intense velocity. The ball sailed through the air, spiraling as it flew towards it's target, Rocca's outstretched hands. I knew he would've caught it had the cornerback not grabbed his jersey, pulling him back and keeping him from catching the ball, which sailed past the pair and nearly got intercepted by the safety. My eyes grew wide at the nearby referee, who signaled for an incomplete pass. "Are you kidding me?!" I asked the umpire behind me as the crowd booed and voiced their indignation that Pass Interference wasn't called. Even the announcer sounded mad. The umpire rolled his eyes, putting his whistle in his mouth. "That was a freaking blatant PI!" I pleaded. The umpire shook his head, spitting out his whistle, and smiling eerily at me. "Not the way I saw it, monster lover." He replied, malevolently. "Now shut up or i'll flag you for an unsportsmanlike conduct." I threw up my arms in frustration. "That's fucking ridiculous." I muttered under my breath, looking over at my coach, who wrote a twenty on a whiteboard, signaling it over to me. I looked at my wrist, where my playbook band had the plays on it. Each play corresponded to a number. When we were short on time, Coach simply gave us a number from the sideline which I translated to a play and told the formation so we could hustle to our spots. "Let it go, Rocca." I said, at the irritated slot receiver once I got into the huddle. "Referees have been blowing this game since kickoff. Anyways, guys, huddle up. Eagle 834, Fullback Seam. On one on one, ready... break!" I passed the ball to the same receiver, Rocca, who burned the cornerback who committed the uncalled foul and caught the ball on a slant route for 14 yards before being taken down by the other team's linebacker. The bad thing was, he was tackled in bounds and we had no timeouts left. The clock was still running down from 1:05. I signaled for the offense to hurry up and get into the formation, looking at coach for a number. He held up a hastily scribbled fifteen, which I translated on my wrist playbook. "Army 561, DHS!" I yelled to the left and right side of my formation. "Army 561, DHS! Down.... Ready.... Set 180... hut-hut!" I yelled, the ball being snapped into my hands. I was being blitzed by two linebackers, who were let in without so much as a block by the two pulling guards. Backpedaling to avoid being tackled by 400 combined pounds of testosterone and aggression, I flicked the ball to a waiting Viktor Sokolov, who caught the ball, and turned up the field. "Ough!" I grunted, falling to the ground as I was hit hard by the linebacker. "A bit late there, buddy." I said, pushing him off of me and sitting up to look at the play. A wave of blockers in royal blue jerseys were clearing the way for Viktor, who was bobbing and weaving in between tackles. For not playing football before in his life, Viktor had moves. He was fast and agile, but not fast and agile enough. The free safety managed to grab hold of his ankles just as he was about to break free, taking him down inbounds. "Fuck." I mumbled, standing up to run down the field. The screen pass had netted us about 20 more yards. We just had 31 to go. I looked behind me at the clock, which was winding down to 0:38. I looked at Coach Freddy, who held up a one and a half. I loved that play so much at Jefferson, I didn't even need to consult my wrist playbook. "599 Tight DS." I yelled, signaling for everyone to run deep. I set up behind my center. "Down... set 180, Hutty-hut!" The ball was snapped into my hands and I dropped back. The problem was, the defense knew that we were going to run deep with all our receivers spread out like that and promptly responded with putting out seven defensive backs while taking out their three run stopping linebackers. Bad for them as well. I don't mean to toot his horn, but Ricky was actually a pretty decent runner and could catch in pretty good coverage. When I knew that everybody was covered and the defensive backs were cleared out chasing after ghosts, I flicked the ball to him just as he was cutting back. He promptly took off to the right side of the formation, taking his huge, gigantic strides. He powered through defenders, relying on blocks,trucks, and missed tackles, going hell for the leather for the endzone. He managed to get 30 yards before he was taken down in bounds by three defenders, just short one yard of the goal line. The crowd loved it, screaming their approval as we got within distance of actually scoring. We were on fire and nothing could stop us, our four play drive taking us 70 yards to their one yard line. We were just under 36 inches away from securing victory. I looked at Coach Freddy as I took my sweet time walking to the formation, having beaten the clock, my worst enemy at the moment. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "SNEAK!" He yelled at me. "SNEAK!" I didn't need to be told anymore than that. It was the most automatic play in our offensive playbook that involved me. It wasn't a pass. It was just me tucking the ball, lowering my shoulder, and shimmying my skinny, lanky frame into a narrow gap between the center and guard, gaining inch after bruising inch, me with a fullback's mentality. My skinny 6 foot 3 inches and 200 pounds defied the stereotype of a traditional short yard running tank. I wasn't a Mike Alstott, Thomas Rawls, or John Kuhn, who bowled over defenders like nobody's business. What I did was have some good leg power, allowing me to get low and drive forward, manipulating my frame to gain decent leverage to follow my linemen. My body personally didn't like the beating it took, but coach sure as hell did upon seeing its success. Too bad I was at Jefferson for three years. In such short yardage situations such as this, they knew what I was going to do. "He's going to sneak!" The linebacker screamed, lining up behind the nose guard as I positioned myself behind the center. "No, i'm not!" I yelled back. It was dumb for me to say that. They knew what I was going to run, and I probably confused my own guys. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, though. I took one last peek at the clock, which was winding down from 10 seconds. "Tiger Sneak! Tiger Sneak!" I yelled to the formation, holding my arms out behind the center. "Down... set....... Set.... set.... Hutty-hut!" I took the ball from the center, tucking the ball and driving forward, powered by both my own legs and Viktor behind me, who was shoving me forward like a shopper on Black Friday. I grunted as I squeezed myself into the hole, driving forward and holding onto the ball as if my life depended on it. I've done it so often that I knew where to go with it so I can pretty much get a yard or two every time. I fell forward and grunted as bodies fell on top of me, both defense and offense alike. "I got it... I got it... I scored." I said, in pain. Someone had his cleat up in my calf. I laid there while the referees pulled players off of me, looking for just a sliver of evidence that I didn't make it to turn the game away from our favor. Ok, maybe they weren't that biased, but there were a few questionable blown calls earlier in the game and the umpire did call me a 'monster lover'. "Touchdown!" The referee said upon seeing me clutching the ball. He held his hands up, signaling that I made it, the crowd cheering at our victory, just as the clock reached zero. Ricky helped me up, yelling something in my ear that I couldn't register. I ripped off my helmet, holding it up and cheering, quickly hobbling back to the sideline with a gleeful grin plastered on my face. I loved winning. I loved winning more than I hated losing. Usually when the football team wins, the crowd is allowed to come onto the field to celebrate with the players. This was curtailed in the past few years because some people got hurt on the way down, but the undermanned police acting as security wasn't going to be able to stop over 1,000 monster people from storming the field. As a result, they had a system in place of family and close friends of players being given access to the field a couple minutes before everyone else. Stasi was always the first one on the field, no matter whether we won or lost. By the time we finished shaking hands with the other team, a beautiful blur with raven hair and a white jersey with #14 emblazoned on it was running to meet me halfway to the sideline, our families and friends not far behind. My breath was knocked out of me when Stasi hugged me, touching a few bruises. My game wasn't perfect. I was dinged up and bruised. I knew I was going to feel it come Saturday morning. She looked up at me and grinned. "You were great. That QB Sneak up the gut looked awesome." She gushed. I wrapped my arms around her, looking at her in the eyes. "Only because I knew you were watching me, Stasi." I replied. She laughed, before wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. Right in front of the entire student body, our families, and our close friends. "Oh my goodness!" My mom gasped, as the cameraman for the SF Gate newspaper snapped pictures of the two of us kissing, the flash bathing us in light as the stadium roared their approval at the two of us, a player and what appeared to be his girlfriend kissing. I broke the kiss, staring at Stasi in wonder. She gave me a look, holding onto my hand as I turned to our parents. My mom and Yulia were holding onto each other like little school girls, bouncing on their heels. "Mama, Papa, meet my boyfriend." Stasi said, confidently. I nearly died because it sounded so good. As soon as Stasi said it, Anton wrapped me in a hug, yelling in delight. We found ourselves unable to cling to each other, but still relatively close. Everything passed in a blur, with both of her parents expressing their congratulations. Anton was like an excitable bear, hugging onto me and nearly breaking my back (even though I had my pads on). Finally, Yulia embraced me in a hug, her jersey (Viktor's away) rubbing on mine. "You have no idea how long we were waiting for this." She whispered. She was replaced by Anton once again, who was hugging me again tightly. It wasn't until Yulia dragged him away, him proclaiming to the men and women in suits that I was dating his daughter, reaching them and dragging them over to meet me, an exasperated Yulia in tow. "Christopher, Christopher, Anastasia!" He called over Stasi who was talking with Jazz. "Come, quick! This here is Vasilli Tarshenko. He is part of the Coven here at San Francisco, one of the elders, da. Him and a few other members of the Coven came to watch you play." I stuck out my hand, shaking the hand of Tarshenko. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." He nodded at me and shook hands with Stasi. So that's where I saw him, in one of the newspapers that Anton hangs in his study. It was a picture of Vasilli Tarshenko winning the election to become the next Elder in the Coven. I don't know why there was such a high demographic of Russians in the Coven, but that's just the way it was, I guess. He looked different from his picture. That Tarshenko was strong, powerful. This Tarshenko looked unassuming, just a regular old guy, balding and glasses. The only sense of something different was when he smiled at me, revealing his fangs. "Vasilli, please. So this is the young man who transferred schools to be with his friends. You're a brave young man for standing up for what you believe in, something that can't be said for the rest of the country." "You're even braver to be dating a vampire. They have an attitude about them." He smiled at Stasi, then back at me. "Then again, you are the quarterback who scrambled 73 yards with half the Jefferson team chasing you at the end of the first half. You're pretty fast." His English was refined, no hint of an accent given his Russian name. I swelled with pride at the memory (and pain) of being buried under a mountain of maroon and black. "Thank you, sir. Is that the entire Coven right there?" "No, that's only a few of us here." He laughed, while Stasi snorted at my mistake. "The size of the San Francisco Coven is in the hundreds, it's one of the largest in the country. I can't say that this isn't a score for us. I just wish more of us came. Imagine that, the monsters winning their first ever football game, against a human team, no less!" He clapped me on the shoulder. "If you need anything, Christopher, Anastasia, do not hesitate to call us at the Coven. We always look after our own." Smiling, he left us, talking with Anton and Yulia, giving me the chance to finally talk to my parents who were patiently waiting off to the side. While he walked away, I heard him say my name once or twice, but my attention was shifted back to my parents. My dad shook my hand, giving me a hug while my mother talked with Stasi. "Proud of you, son." He said. His way of saying congratulations was more conserved and understated. So little, yet so much. "Thanks, dad." I said, before giving him another hug. My parents went to switch off after my mom gave Stasi another tight hug, her daughter that she never had, and my dad went to go talk to her with my mom coming to go talk to me. "I'm so glad that you two found each other. You couldn't have picked a better girl, Chris." She whispered into my ear over the din of the crowd. She gave me a big kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, mom." I mumbled, sheepishly. She gave me another kiss on the other cheek before going back to start talking with Stasi, no doubt to grill her on how long this has been going on. I was left standing there on my own, looking around at everyone else. Viktor was hugging Yulia and Anton, who expressed how proud they were of him. Over the shoulder of his mom, he caught eye contact with me, winking and smiling his approval. But Elena was nowhere to be seen. I looked around. I saw her earlier in the stands sitting with Stasi and a group of her friends. I turned around once more, where I was promptly met with a blonde ball of energy giving me a hug. "I'm so happy for the two of you!" She gushed, looking up at me with her expressive green eyes. "My werecat friend is going to be so heartbroken." Her attitude changed and she punched me in the arm. "You need to work on your sneaking about, by the way." I was confused. "Wait... what? We scored on that sneak." She continued on, with an eye roll. "Not that sneak, although, that was pretty cool. I'm talking about you sneaking around with Stasi. I saw you two on the front porch. Mom told me to call you guys in for dinner and I caught you two kissing! On the front porch! Right in front of the window! Real smooth, Chris!" She said, giving me another punch on the arm. "You better take care of my older sister or i'm burning down your house." Somehow, I didn't doubt that. Before I could say "I will", I was mobbed by my friends. My friends were just as excited, Ricky jumping up and down and screaming like a maniac, picking up Elena and putting her on his shoulders. Jasmine was hugging Stasi, proclaiming how happy she was for her, but above all else, after I gave Lucy a hug, she pulled my head down to her ear. "One day, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But one day, you're going to tell me everything, and I mean everything." Chapter 7: Freshly showered and changed into a pair of basketball shorts with no shirt, I tiredly plopped on my bed spread eagle, accidentally hitting Stasi's face with the back of my hand. "Ouch!" She said, sitting up and rubbing at her eye furiously. I looked up. "Oh, damn! I'm so sorry, Stasi. Are you alright?" She gave me an exasperated look before turning back to the TV, where my XBox was running. "Yeah, i'm fine." She sighed. "Just watch where you put your hands." We were at my house. After the game, everyone (including Jazz, Ricky, Lucy, their families, and my family) was invited to the Sokolov household for dinner. It was tradition that we usually eat some good food at someone's house after a win at home. I was starving and it felt good to pig out on Yulia's amazing cooking for once, instead of watching what I ate meticulously the week before the game. After dinner, me and Stasi asked to be excused to go back to my house since I was starting to nod off and get my post-game soreness at the dinner table. The Hurry-Up offense of Coach Freddy was beginning to catch up to me. Met with raised eyebrows, mischievous looks, and open mouths, our parents unanimously agreed to let us go, seeing that I was fairly tired and my parents didn't trust me to drive home all by myself. Heck, my parents probably trusted Stasi more than me. Stasi had already changed into bed clothing, wearing her black yoga shorts that she wore under her outfit at the game, which, much to my delight, accentuated her cute butt and a regular white T-Shirt that I loaned her. My white away jersey was carefully folded on my desk. My blue home jersey was in my growing pile of dirty laundry. I liked what she was wearing and I found my eyes wandering heavily. It was convenient that such interesting stuff was her general direction so I had an excuse to gawk. The bed squeaked as I shifted myself into a more comfortable position, leaning up against Stasi, who was stroking my hair. She set the controller to the XBox aside, putting her face next to mine. "Are you tired?" She whispered into my ear. Even though my eyes were beginning to droop, I couldn't help but shiver when her hot breath touched my ear. "No." I replied. "Good, because while you were showering, I had a thought." "Hm? What were you thinking?" "Yeah... I think my boyfriend should stay awake to be rewarded for the way he played tonight." I stared at her wide eyed, gazing at her for a minute, not quite sure how respond. She always had this incredible sexy determined attitude where she subtly strived at whatever she wanted, never letting anything stop her. I found it appealing and refreshing. I squinted my eyes and scratched at my head. "Well, I can't do that, Stasi. You see, I invited a few Belcourt cheerleaders to swing by tonight and I was hoping to spend some quality time with them. You can stay if you want though." The way I said it nonchalantly had her for a moment. It was her turn to be wide eyed and unsure of how to respond. Then, her eyes narrowed, and she gave me a soft whack on the forehead. "Ouch!" I cried out in exasperated pain. "Oh, no! I'm going to get a concussion." Stasi laughed, rotating her body so she was on top of me, putting her hands beside my head. "Now you know how I felt, lyubov" I opened my eyes, seeing her on top of me, a giggle escaping her lips at my mock pain. "I almost had you, didn't I?" "No." She lied, baring her fangs. "I know you'd never do anything like that." Even though that last part was true, I couldn't help but flick her gently on the forehead. "You know me too well, Stasi." I said, full of affection. "Since I know so much about you, what do you know about me?" She asked, her crystal blue eyes reflecting a glint of mischievous, love, and... uncertainty? "I know you're perfect. Everything about you is perfect. Everything you say... and do... is perfect." She opened her mouth at the last one, her eyes watering, before she promptly moved down until her face was inches from my own. "I can say the same for you, Mr. Williams." She whispered, before giving me a kiss and nipping my neck with her fangs. I gasped, gooseflesh popping up on my naked chest. "Oh... are you cold?" She murmured. "No, i'm just incredibly ticklish and you're turning me on right now." "Same. I meant, at the turned on part, not the ticklish part." She said, giving me another kiss and jabbing me slightly on the belly, driving me absolutely bonkers. "The thought of us about to have sex is too much to handle." I nodded absentmindedly, before my eyes grew wide. Wait... sex? Had she just said sex? "Wait, Stasi... wait... did you just say sex? Slow down, we're going way too fast." I said. It's only been three hours of us officially being boyfriend and girlfriend. She stopped, looking at me. "Oh... luchik." She said, stroking my cheek. "Don't you dare try and tell me we're going too fast. We're making up for lost time. The last few years have been going way too slow." Well, now that I think about it... she got that part right; in the past couple of years, there'd been far too much sexual tension between the two of us. Would it be so bad if we caught up the time we'd lost? I'd tried to be the gentlemen, but she was firmly in the driver's seat and dismissed me. Who was I to interfere with her now? "Ok." I felt myself growing hard. There was no way Stasi could've avoid noticing it, pressed up against her as it was. My face dropped, realizing I had no protection. Stasi saw the shift in my facial expression, stopping and leaning back, having the double effect of grinding on me. "What's the matter?" "I just... uh... I don't have any condoms." I stammered. Stasi laughed. "It doesn't even matter, Chris. Don't worry." She nipped at my chest once more, before leaning back and lifting the hem of her T-Shirt, inches of delicious pale flesh being revealed underneath. I gasped as she lifted the top clean over her head, tossing it to the side, unforgotten in the corner. "What do you mean it doe-..." I found myself unable to reply, mesmerized at her breasts. "Christopher?" She asked, bemused. I looked up at her, busted, my face turning red. I began to sputter an apology. "Don't be sorry. I'm glad you like them. I always thought they were a bit small." She said, cupping them. "Anyways, I said it doesn't matter and you don't have to worry. I'm on the pill." "You're on the pill?" "Yup." She said, popping the 'p'. "When I was a junior, I knew there'd be a time when you'd realize how I felt about you and lo and behold, that time has come." Reinvigorated that I had nothing to worry about, my arms roped around her, sliding up and down her skin, her flesh warm to the touch. "You could've been a girl scout." She shook her head, laughing. "I'd rather not." She shuddered slightly when my hands reached her lower back, gooseflesh popping up on her skin. "Cold?" I asked. "Oooh... no, just incredibly turned on by your touch." She replied. I moved my hands slowly to the front, towards her breasts, cupping them and kneading them against my palms. I squeezed them gently, rubbing her nipples between my thumbs and fingers, causing her to gasp and arch her back. "Oh, Chris." She murmured. Her eyes were squeezed shut tight as I continued to grope her, my cock begging to be released. "You're hard." She murmured. "Wow, really? I have my beautiful best friend topless on my lap and you're surprised i'm hard? Thanks, Captain Obvious." I said. She laughed, before bending down and kissing my chest, moving down to the top of my basketball shorts. The feeling of her lips on places other than my neck, face, or lips was strange but pleasant none the less. I sighed as she licked her lips, gently scraping her fangs on my stomach, inching closer and closer to the elastic band of my shorts, staring at the evident bulge near her face. She gazed up into my eyes. "This must be getting pretty 'hard' for you, do you need a bit of a hand?" She said, mischievously. Jesus, where had this girl come from. The Stasi I knew was shy, demure, yet confident in what she did. She wasn't super outgoing nor was she super courageous. I don't know where this girl had come from, but I was liking it. I managed to nod, shivering. She took it as a yes because a second later, she pressed her hand against the bulge, massaging it gently and giving it a firm squeeze, making me jump. "That feel better, Chris?" She cooed. While she was rubbing my cock through my shorts, the other hand slid up my body, exploring it. Throughout my four years of high school, as part of the football weight training regime, I had managed to put on a good amount of muscle, muscle that Stasi appreciated by the appreciative moans she made. Stasi maneuvered her way up to me, trailing her hot mouth up my chest and to my neck, softly kissing and licking me all the way. She gently bit at my neck, not enough to pierce skin. I wrapped my arms around her and caressed her bare skin. She was just so soft, cuddly, and warm. Her hand stroking my cock through my shorts felt amazing. It had to have been illegal to feel this good. She pulled her mouth away from my neck, gazing into my eyes. "I need to see your cock." She said. "I need to see it." "No one's stopping you." I replied. She moved back down to my knees as I held my breath in anticipation on what was to come. Her fingers curled around my black basketball shorts, and she gently pulled at them along with my briefs, slowly freeing my cock merely inches from her beautiful mouth. Her lips widened in an 'O' when she saw it, her tongue running over her lips. Then she pulled my shorts down my legs, flicking them off my feet and into the corner, the general direction where she put her tank top. She looked up at me and smiled. "Impressive." She murmured softly. I felt myself silently whooping inside. She wasn't disappointed at my size! Her eyes flitted back to my cock as she leaned downward, my heart beating faster. She opened her mouth, sliding her tongue out and licking at the head apprehensively, slowly circling her way around. I groaned, running my hands through her hair. Then without so much as a warning, she opened her mouth and took in my cock, sucking it into her mouth and flicking her tongue against the tip, her fangs scraping on my head. "Fuck." I gasped. She wasn't going soft either. It felt as if she were a vacuum cleaner, sucking on me as hard as she could and it felt incredible. She slowly began bobbing up and down. I felt myself almost about to explode right then and there. "Fuck... Stasi! Wait.. stop... stop!" I said, putting my hands on the side of her head. She gave me a worried look, pulling her mouth away from my cock. It was slick and wet with her saliva. Stasi wiped spit from her chin with her arm. "Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" She asked, worriedly. I laughed, shaking my head. "No, you didn't, Stasi. Not at all. You were doing it so good that I thought I was about to explode right then and there." "Oh." She said, giggling as the worried expression was washed away with relief. "Sorry." I leaned my head back on the pillow, catching my breath. "Don't be sorry. That felt amazing." I pulled her up next to me, pressing up against her, making sure that my cock was nowhere near anything that resembled a hand. I didn't want to prematurely end our night together. She pouted. "I was loving it too." She gave a thoughtful look. "Can I give you another blowjob later?" "Definitely." I said. "You definitely can. That was one of the best things I've ever felt in my life." "Good." She said, giggling. We spent the next few moments like that, me resting, until I felt myself gaining balance after precariously teetering off the edge. Soon after I began to regain my balance, she grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me on top of her, wrapping her arms around me and kissing me. I closed my eyes and went with it, savouring the feeling of her warm body rising and falling. I loved every second of this, being intimate with her, touching her, loving her. "I want to do you, now." She said, beginning to take off her tight yoga pants. My eyes widened at what she said. "Gee, don't make it sound super romantic or anything. My heart can't take it." She laughed, wrapping her arm around my neck, drawing me in for a kiss. "I'm in absolute love with my best friend who's done nothing but good things for me since we met in Kindergarten even though i'm a vampire. I want to express my love for him by granting him undenying access to my body. Does that sound better?" Revealing inch after inch of alabaster skin, she kicked off her pants. Just like that, she was naked. My lifelong best friend was absolutely incredible, her pussy bare save for a few raven hairs not unlike the ones that adorned her head. "Yes, it does." I said, grinning at our verbal jousting and drinking in the sight of her beautiful body. My cock rubbed against her opening, sliding and sliding against her wetness, and it was driving me absolutely up the wall. I wanted nothing more than to be with her than anything else. Not state championships, not a new car, not a new anything. I just wanted her. She was the only thing that mattered right now. "Fuck... I can't take it," She pleaded, her fangs becoming more pronounced. She broke the kiss, staring up at me. "I need it in me. Right now." I kissed her lightly on the lips and moved my hand down to my cock, gripping it and rubbing it up and against against her slit. I was testing her, teasing her. I wanted nothing more than this, but she obviously wanted it just that tiny bit more than I did. I wanted to have some fun first. "Chris!" She moaned impatiently. "I've waited for years, don't you make me wait a second longer or i'll murder you in your sleep." I didn't want to keep her waiting. I groaned out as I pushed at her opening, finding it tighter than anything. I trembled as the tip slipped in, pushing more of my cock into her moist hole. Both of us were moaning out loud, as I began to inch more and more in. I wanted everything to be inside of her, but above all else, I didn't want to hurt the love of my life. Any reservations I had about that were thrown out the metaphorical window when she wrapped her legs around me, drawing me in all the way. "Oh, fuck." I groaned out. See you later virginity. You won't be missed. I lay atop of her, completely inside of her and still, loving every minute of it. It was so hot, moist, and tight. I couldn't believe that me and Stasi were finally doing it. 12 years of being best friends led up to this moment. "I love you, Chris." She whispered into my ear, laying underneath me. "I love you too." "Good. Now, i'm going to ask you one thing..." "Hm..?" "I need you to show how much you love me and start fucking me or else i'm going to go absolutely psikh." I laughed, kissing her. Then I pulled my cock out of her until the tip was embedded and trust it all the way back in. I was doing what she asked me to do, fucking her. It was a nice gentle pace that I got into the rhythm of, the room's ambiance being filled with soft sighs, mumbles, slapping of flesh on flesh, and the squeaking of the bed. Our sighs grew louder, our moans were drawn out, as the slapping of our flesh accelerated. "Harder. Oh, it feels so good. Fuck me harder." She moaned out, her tongue hanging out. I was increasing the tempo of my thrusts. Not hard enough to cause either of us discomfort. It was a nice fast pace that I knew would allow me to last a couple more minutes. She gripped me tighter with her legs, wrapping her arms around her and drawing my face down to hers and mashing her mouth against mine, both of us moaning as she slipped her velvety tongue into my mouth. Our love making was intense, feverish, full of passion. The way she was kissing me and grunting into my mouth, I somehow managed to hold on, keeping myself from falling off the edge. She pulled her head away, panting. "Chris... you... I... come." She said, blushing when she realized what she said was complete nonsense. And then, I lost it. Just the way she looked, the way her skin was flushed and her tongue haning out. It made me lose all sense of control I had. I felt my balls tighten as Stasi threw her head back in ecstasy, displaying her graceful neck, her perfect pale skin. I thrust hard into her as I erupted inside her, still continuing to shove in and out of her, my warm sticky cum spurting deep into her. Stasi cried out, pulling me down, clamping her mouth on my neck, and biting down with a huge amount of force with her fangs as she followed over the edge, sucking at my jugular vein. I gasped at the sensation of her taking my blood combined with my mind blowing orgasm. My hips were on auto pilot, continuing to piston into her as she violently shook under me, her mouth still clamped on my neck like a vice. Finally, I stopped, spent and gasping for air, the feeling of lightheadedness from her bite making my vision a bit hazy. She let go, licking the wound with her tongue to seal it and wipe away any drops of blood. I collapsed on top of her, kissing her on the forehead and rolling off. She was still shivering, plagued with shakes, the aftermath of a powerful and overwhelming tidal wave of a mutual orgasm. She turned her head to look at me, caressing my cheek lovingly. I wrapped my arms around her, running my hands up and down her delicious curves. Her body was warm and slippery with sweat. I didn't mind. My room could've exploded and I wouldn't have even registered it. All that mattered was her. I sat there, staring at her, before taking a deep breath, both of us seeming to come to our senses about what we just did. In truth, I don't think we really thought about it. We'd acted on instinct, impulses, and sheer love. "That was..." "Words can't describe what we just did, Chris. We waited far too long." She said, blinking. "Yeah... we did." She caressed my cheek, before tilting her chin and pressing her mouth against mine and kissing me. She broke it when she saw me wince in pain at the tender pain in my neck. "Sorry about the bite." She said guiltily. "I don't know what overcame me like that. I don't think I even needed to feed..." "It's ok. Felt good." I whispered tiredly. I was already missing the sensation of her pussy around my cock, but this was better. I propped myself on my pillows, staring at the digital clock that read 1:03AM. In a span of 12 hours, we went up against Jefferson High School, a ragtag football team made up of Monsters to show everybody we weren't inferior or a lesser race, we won, and above all, I just couldn't believe that a girl as gorgeous as Stasi willingly had sex with me and loved me. It was hard to wrap my head around. I knew it was real, but it had a touch of unreality to it. "What are you thinking about?" She murmured, propping herself up to look at me. Her face and neck was slick with drops of sweat, her long raven hair disheveled. But her eyes, oh her eyes, they were expressive, hiding nothing. She was happy. She was glowing. She was gorgeous. She was absolutely perfect. "I just can't believe everything that's happened, y'know?" "Well, you better believe it, Chris. I'm going to keep doing it until you do believe it, then after you believe it, i'm going to keep on doing it." She said, wrapping her arms around me and tossing the sheets over us. "You should sleep, you know. You're tired. I can taste it in your 'blood'." My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You can do that?" "No, idiot." She said, lovingly, gently smacking me on the top of the head. "You just look exhausted. Go to sleep so I can sleep. You of all people deserve it after the battle you fought today." "I don't want to." I whined. "Why not?" "Because, this reality is way better than any dream i'll ever get." * Author's notes: Hey guys! I'm glad you guys liked the first story. I hope this one measures up to your expectations! By the way, i'm looking for an editor, so if you think you're up to the task, shoot me a PM! I'd love to hear from you guys as well, so even if you don't want to be an editor, still shoot me a PM! I want to hear any ideas you guys may have or where you want me to take this story and our two lovable characters.

Debunk vampire myths, mirror etc. Vampire royal family Chapter 1: My phone's alarm went off, Avicii's Levels blasting out of the tiny but mighty speakers. My serene and restful sleep was ripped away from me. I groaned, opening my eyes and blinking rapidly. "Damn..." I mumbled. The room was bathed in darkness, the sun completely blocked out by my thick curtains. I turned to the left, reaching over to my night stand and swiping my finger on the front screen of my phone, shutting off the alarm. Groaning in relief at the now silence and peace, I rolled back onto my back, resting my head back onto my pillow, snuggling back into the stirring, pleasantly cold body next to me. "Why do you even set alarms on weekends?" Stasi asked, groggily. "That's so counter-intuitive as to what a weekend is supposed to be." "I only set it so I don't stay in bed past eleven and know when to wake you up on weekends." I replied, wrapping my arm around her wonderfully pale naked body and pulling her so she was flush against me. I planted a kiss on her temple. "Judging from the time... as well as the alarm, I think it's time for us to wake up." "You can't break that rule just for one day?" She asked sleepily, shifting the covers over her head to dive back into her little cocoon. I thought about letting her sleep, but then I thought about it from a logical standpoint. No matter how she pled, I knew that if I gave her the chance, she'd sleep all day and stay up all night. After all, vampires were biologically wired to be nocturnal. Not only was their skin extremely sensitive to the Sun, but there was just something about the Sun's rays that made them sleepy, tired, and lethargic. Vampires had to take prescriptions for certain medications to simply remain cognizant during the day and fall asleep at night. The memories of Stasi not on such medications brought a nostalgic smile to my face. Even though I thought of those times positively, I certainly didn't want any repeats of the summer vacation of our sophomore year, where I pulled a record number of all nighters with her. We didn't even do that much. We just video chatted on Skype or she snuck onto Viktor's XBox to play video games with me. Although... there was one time where we met up at the park of our old elementary school in the dead of night to play on the playground as if we were five again. That was fun. "Sorry..." I murmured, peeling back the covers and kissing her once more. "You have five minutes of grace, then i'm ripping open the curtains." That'd wake anybody up for sure, bathing the room in blinding white light. Stasi groaned at the thought of it, wrapping herself back up with a thicker blanket like a burrito to preemptively block out any of the sun's rays. "Nooo..." She moaned, her voice muffled through the blanket. "Five minutes." I repeated. My mind said that was the correct answer; to get out of bed, but my body didn't. My muscles were stiff, taut, and sore from yesterday, begging me to stay in bed for at least another hour. My bed was so comfortable, warm, and inviting. It certainly didn't hurt that Stasi was in bed with me. Using exceptional willpower, I slipped out from under my covers, exposing myself to the cool air of my room. I gently swung my legs over, placing the soles of my feet on the soft carpet of my room. I made to stood up but promptly fell back onto my bed. "Oh!" I gasped, a sharp pain shooting up my hamstring and causing my leg to buckle. Stasi looked up alert, the blanket falling away, and all traces of her sleepiness erased. "What?" She asked, concerned. I rubbed the back of my leg, the taut muscle still twitching. "Nothing." I said. "Just a little banged up from last night." That was an understatement. Judging from the pain, I pulled something. She looked over me, worriedly. I shivered when I felt her eyes roving over my naked body. Satisfied that I wasn't extremely hurt to the point where i'd have to go see a doctor, the corners of Stasi's mouth slowly upturned in a ghost of a smile. "Banged up from me or the football game?" She questioned, her tone conveying mischievousness, but laden with concern. "A little bit of both, I guess." I replied, a smile adorning my face as well. I stood up awkwardly, hobbling on one leg to the bathroom. Remember how I said my room wasn't nothing to brag about and how it was actually fairly small? Well, that's without counting the bathroom connected to it. It still wasn't huge, but I mean, come on. I had a bathroom and a shower. I flicked on the light in my bathroom, shielding my eyes as the room bathed itself in illumination. I hobbled to the sink, bracing myself against it. My sink was separated into two sides, an imaginary border drawn right down the middle. One side had a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and cologne. The other side had every dental hygiene product known to man, including this exotic fang maintenance floss, and an exorbitant amount of cosmetics (which i'm sure wasn't even required). Want to guess who used which side? After doing my morning routine, like using the toilet and brushing my teeth, I hobbled back into the dark bedroom. Stasi was awake and still on the bed, rolled on her front, scrolling through her phone and answering missed texts from who were probably her parents. They must've been mildly concerned about how she didn't come home last night. Speaking of parents, I couldn't wait to have that conversation with mines. I knew they were always secretly encouraging Stasi sleeping over even when we weren't dating, and now that everybody knew that we were... I don't think i'd be able to survive the embarrassment. I'm surprised they haven't checked in on my room yet. It was nearly noon and they must've been home at the very least. I hobbled to the bed, leaning on it for support. "Bathroom's all yours." I said. She put her phone to sleep, setting it back on the nightstand. "Thanks. About time you got out of the bathroom. Sheesh. I was just about to go in there and drag you out." She said, rolling off my bed and coming onto her feet. She stretched her naked body like a cat, thrusting her chest out into the air. My mouth dropped open at the sight. "Uh..." She looked over at me, smiling so hard that her fangs were showing. "Sorry, lyubov." She said, crossing the room and looking into my closet for a change of clothes. It goes to show how often she came over to my house. She had nearly one fourth of her wardrobe taking up half the space in my closet. It certainly took a large amount of trust to leave a couple of your favorite outfits at your best friend's house, that's for sure. She took out a blouse and miniskirt, inspecting it with a critical eye before tutting. Rummaging back in my closet, she removed a green dress, looking at it appraisingly. Turning around, she held up both the outfits. "Which one, Chris?" She asked, innocently, as if the sight of her naked body wasn't going to completely distract me from making any kind of rational thought. "Uh... what?" I asked, dumbfounded. Her eyes shimmering with mirth, she held up both outfits again. "I asked, which outfit? Which one looks better on me, Chris?" She repeated patiently. I was more focused on the work of art those outfits were covering than the outfits themselves! "What are the outfits for, again?" I asked, getting snapped out of my trance. "They're for going out, silly. It's Saturday and our first weekend off from school. What? Did you expect us to sit around your room all day and play on the XBox?" "Uh..." The problem was, that's exactly what I thought we'd do. The back of my leg felt like someone was twisting a hot knife into it. I was sore. I had a couple of bruises. I was tired. You can't blame me for thinking that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to just have a lazy day. "I'd love to go out with you today... it's just that... you know..." I made a weak gesture to my leg and the dark bruises on my thighs, back, and arms. Catching on, Stasi lowered the outfits. "Oh." She mumbled, guiltily, not taking into account how dinged up I was from yesterday's game. My heart broke at the deflated look that marred her beautiful face. I absolutely couldn't stand it whenever she was anything less than happy. Maybe it would be a good idea to go out rather than stay cooped up in my room. It'd be our very first date as a couple. It didn't take me long to decide. Making up my mind, I hobbled across the room to stand next to her, going through my closet. "What are you doing?" She asked. "Finding a button up that remotely matches with your blouse... it should be somewhere in he-... aha!" I said in triumph, pulling out the sky blue button up from the back of my closet and laying it carefully on my bed. "What for?" "For going out, silly. It's Saturday and our first weekend off from school. Did you expect us to sit around our room all day and play on the XBox?" I replied, cheekily. The look of guilt on Stasi's face disappeared, in exchange for a huge and very beautiful grin. With a cry, she wrapped her arms around me, melting herself against me, crushing her wonderful breasts against my chest. "Thanks, Chris. I promise i'll make it up to you." She said, excitably, her Russian accent blending her words. On super rare occasions, I was like Stasi was in public, reserved and cool, to the point where people incorrectly thought she was condescending. On less rare occasions, Stasi was like me in public, easily excitable, happy, loud, and cheerful. This was one of those rare occasions, and I was liking it. "You don't have to." I replied, laughing. "I wanted to go out as much as you did. I just had a bout of laziness." Stasi laughed, a wonderfully intoxicating noise, and grabbed onto my hand. "Still. I know how much it must suck being in that much pain and having your girlfriend drag you around." She said. She began to lead me to the bathroom. "Come on, let's get our morning shower out of the way." "Wait... together?" I asked, confused. "Well... we are in a drought, unless you want to waste water..." That was all I needed. I was one for saving the environment after all. I happily followed her. She opened the glass door to my shower, turning it on. It was a pretty decently sized cubicle of glass, large enough for two people to comfortably stand around in while maximizing bodily contact. She walked in first, the powerful showerhead beginning to pour steaming hot water onto her body, soaking her raven hair and making water cascade down her delicious curves. The sight of her enjoying the water was beautiful and I didn't want to ruin the gorgeous image until she stuck up a chewed down finger-nailed finger, crooking it towards me. "Are you going to join me, dummy?" She asked, amused. Spurred on by her encouragement, I entered the shower, closing the glass door behind me. I let out a soft sigh when I went under the showerhead, the water managing to get the both of us. The water was piping hot, just the way I liked it. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her into me, loving the feel of her naked body pressed against mine. I dipped my face, closing my eyes and passionately kissing her as she wrapped her arms around my neck. With my hand, I moved them from her waist, running them up and down her back. Her skin was warm and moist from the water, a sharp contrast from her usual peculiar cold body heat. I gently glided my hands up and down her body, massaging and rolling her back, eliciting soft sighs of contentment from her in between our kisses. I was on sensory overload from the feeling of her breasts crushed against my torso, her nipples pleasantly poking into me. I didn't open my eyes until I felt the pressure disappear, from both my torso and my lips. I found her face only inches from mine, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She lowered her hands, grabbing onto my cock. I gasped at the feeling, sending her into a fit of giggles. "Did that surprise you?" She cooed into my ear as she stroked my erect cock. "I've teased you all morning and you haven't made one move. Not one. I've been waiting for you to tackle me for another round... but you just want to be a gentleman, don't you?" "Why didn't you just say something?" I groaned out, as she removed one of her hands from stroking my cock to play with my balls. "Ooooh." I gasped. She giggled nervously, kissing me on the cheek. "Because, dummy... that'd be too logical and boring." She gave me another squeeze. "I think i'm getting the hang of this." Even though this was probably one of the first handjobs she's ever given, her experience, or lack thereof, wasn't evident. I was on sensory overload, the feeling of her soft hand sliding up and down my cock, the hot water pouring down the both of us, the closeness of our bodies, the playful atmosphere, it was all nearly too much. "Oh... damn... Stasi." I moaned. I raised both hands, placing them on the glass to support myself as I felt my orgasm fast approaching. It didn't help that she was picking up the pace, making my breathing more shallow and ragged. "Stasi..." I repeated, more urgently. "I'm going to cum." "Oh.. are you?" She whispered, her eyes widening. She brought her mouth next to my ear, whispering into it. "I want you to cum for me then, Chris... unless you're just false starting." She gave a nervous giggle, looking back down at her stroking. Her voice sent shivers down my spine. It didn't ooze sex appeal right off the bat. Rather, it had a certain tone of uncertainty that gave it that sexual 'oomph'. This was so unlike last night, which was complete lust and pure instinct. Rather, this was more toned down, as if we were discovering one another's body for the first time. She was eager to please and just the thought of that made me lose all control I had left. "Oooooh." I grunted, my balls tightening. Orgasms are wonderful things. All that sleepiness I felt from waking up so late in the morning, all the pain I had in my leg, all the worries I had in my life, it all seemed to disappear in the wake of Stasi's smile as she expertly milked my cock for all the cum I had. My legs shaking at the intensity of it all, I leaned back on the cold glass wall, my cum shooting out of my cock and splattering on Stasi's belly, who yelped in surprise. It took a while for me to come down from cloud nine, winding down from the tsunami of endorphins. I sighed in relief, opening my eyes, and looking at Stasi. She was looking at my cum on her skin, still surprised at the suddenness of my orgasm. Using her finger, she scraped off a dollop of cum off her belly, bringing it up to her eye and inspecting it, almost as if she was a high school student examining a biology specimen under a microscope. Go figure. "So that's what it looks like up close...didn't get a good enough look last night." She murmured. She tentatively inserted her fingers into her mouth, sucking the cum off clean, and making my eyes widen in surprise. "Stasi? What are you doing?" I asked. "Tasting it." She replied nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She pulled her finger out of her mouth, giving me a thoughtful look. "So that's how it tastes..." She murmured, thoughtfully. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. I actually quite like it." I was too much in shock to think on that, much less give a reply. Chapter 2: It wasn't long before Stasi announced it was time to leave. The hot water was making her soft hands prune. I limped out of the shower first, stretching my shoulders and sighing in relief. The hot water and Stasi's attention had done wonders, giving me just that little bit of relief. I gently massaged my taut shoulder muscles with my right hand, reaching for one of the two burgundy towels with my left. I held it over my shoulder at her, which she promptly grabbed as soon as she shut off the water. As she stepped out of the glass cubicle drying her hair, I couldn't help but avert my eyes a little bit, shyly. It was all so new to me. Her body, this relationship, everything. Unfortunately, she saw me in the mirror as she leaned over in the sink, taking my shy gaze at the floor as a brooding, thinking look. "Chris?" She asked softly, turning around. Even though it was one word, it certainly had a lot of meaning behind it. She was asking me a multitude of questions, whether it was if I was expressing regret over falling in love with a vampire, any cold feet in our relationship, any disappointments I had in her body, anything really. I looked up, taking in the sight of her staring back at me with those wide eyes. I realized that I will never regret falling in love with her, human or not. She was beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, witty, funny, smart, loving, every single goddamn adjective in the book. "Yeah?" I replied, a smile on my face and a loving gaze fixed on her reflection. I wasn't sure where the myth that vampires don't have reflections came from. It's a blatantly incorrect and over exaggerated stereotype... although, I guess most stereotypes were incorrect and over exaggerated. Her worried expression morphed into a relieved smile. She turned around to face the mirror, peering at me from it with her crystal blue eyes. "Nothing." She said, looking down at the sink to avoid the piercing gaze of my brown eyes. So little said, yet so much meant. See what I mean? We barely said three words to each other and we already hurdled our first insecurities in our relationship. God, I loved this girl. I adjusted the towel so it was tighter around my waist, exiting the bathroom and leaving her to brush her teeth and slather copious amounts of sunscreen on her body in preparation for our date. Coming back into the bedroom, I shrugged on a pair of boxers and struggled with some khaki shorts. Every time I tried to lift one leg into the shorts, my calf exploded in pain. It took me a few more tries, but I managed to get them on. I was just finishing buttoning my shirt when the bathroom door opened with Stasi coming out and flicking off the light. "Oh. You're already dressed." She said, her creamy skin flushed. She looked absolutely adorable with her hair done in a long ponytail and her towel up and around her body like a burgundy dress. "Sorry... I didn't know if you wanted to change together or not." I nearly bit my tongue off, cringing at what I just said. I could already feel my cheeks burning in embarrassment. The kicker was, I knew exactly why everything was suddenly so awkward. Even though we had sex just last night and fooled around in the shower, it was almost like I was just realizing that she was... a girl. Well, of course I knew Stasi was a woman, if her womanly parts told me anything. But somewhere in my mind, it just didn't register when I was growing up with her. It was somewhere in there, repressed under thousands of thoughts, memories, and dreams. Now, it was all coming to the surface in a rush. "Oh." Stasi, replied awkwardly. "Er..." A moment of silence overcame the both of us, before I finally spoke. "I'm going to ah... open the... curtains. Ye' have been warned." I said, in a half hearted pirate accent. I was trying to do anything to evade the awkwardness, even if it meant tearing my eye Stasi smiled at that one, picking up her outfit on the bed. "I'll change in the poop deck then." She said, turning back into the bathroom. "Don't want to burn my skin off." I was still too busy berating myself over what I said earlier that I didn't even bother to correct her that the poop deck wasn't even the bathroom on a pirate ship. The door closed softly behind her and it took me only half a second to start missing her presence. I was in love with her after all. I shifted my eyes to the heavy curtains. I didn't want to open them because I didn't want to get my retinas burned off by the sun. Sometimes, I could've sworn I was a vampire myself. Against my own better judgement, I walked over to them, grasping them and tearing them away from each other. Given the darkness of the room, I was momentarily blinded by the sunlight filtering in through my window. I looked out the window at our street once I was finished blinking the spots out of my eyes. My breath slowly caught in my throat. It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was beaming down on the street, not a cloud in sight in the blue sky. Judging from the trees lightly swaying on the front yards of my neighbors, there was a slight, cool breeze to ensure we wouldn't be too uncomfortable with the heat. It was all perfect. I silently thanked my lucky stars that Stasi was in my life. After all, it was her who was making me go outside and enjoy my weekend. I felt a sudden weight on my shoulder, turned my head, and nearly jumped two feet in the air when I saw Stasi's face mere inches from my own. She was resting her chin on my shoulder, her raven hair forming a blanket of midnight. I must've spent some time staring out the window trapped in my thoughts, because she was already changed in her outfit, a white blouse and a black miniskirt. She was also wearing a royal blue Belcourt Minotaurs ballcap to ward off the Sun. Nice and classy with a unique Stasi-esque touch. I loved it. She giggled, seeing my reaction. "Did I surprise you?" One thing about Stasi was that she was uncannily great at walking around quietly, compared to my loud and boisterous footsteps. "No." I lied, willing my heart so slow it's beating, lest it burst out of my chest. Stasi gave me a look, her bemused smile and raised eyebrow making her look all the more adorable. "Whatever you say, sakharuk." She said smoothly, giving me a peck on the cheek. "Come on, let's get something to eat for breakfast. I'm hungry." I nodded. "I'll be right behind you, just give me a second." She nodded, twirling around to head downstairs into the kitchen. I hobbled after her into the hallway, but took a different route. I walked past the stairs towards the master bedroom. Coming face to face with the double doors, I softly knocked on the wood, putting my ear to the door. I waited a couple of seconds, hearing nothing. I placed my hand on the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open. "Mom? Dad?" I called out, peering around the master bedroom. The bed was made, but nobody was in sight. I pulled out my phone from my pants pocket, staring at the front screen. The only notifications I had were a couple of unanswered texts from Ricky, Lucy, and Viktor. They were sent late last night, so I hadn't had the chance to reply. But still, nothing from my parents. Not even a note taped to my door. I made a mental note to reply to the texts later, sliding the phone back into my pocket, hobbling out of the master bedroom. I softly closed the door behind me, heading downstairs into the kitchen. Stasi was peering into the fridge, going through the old Synthetic Blood Packs that I had in there in case of emergencies. "Hungry?" I chirped, limping into the kitchen. Stasi whirled around from her examination of my kitchen's refrigerator. "A little." She admitted. "Not for blood though, no, i'm full of that, thank you very much. I was hungry for a bit of real food. But why don't we just go out? It's already nearly noon, so it's about lunch time. We can drive down to that street with all those restaurants near the Pacific Mall and find a restaurant. We can hang around the mall after, or we can just go back to my house." She closed the fridge, I thought about that for a second, before nodding happily. Neither of us could cook very well and I heard raving reviews about this Italian place. "Sure. That sounds like a great idea. We could try out that Italian restaurant that we always wanted to go to, but never did. What was it called again?" "Vito's Kitchen?" "Yeah, that place. The reviews say it's pretty good and it's in a pretty Monster-friendly part of town." Her face broke out in a smile. "You know how much I love Italian food. Do you want me to drive because of your bum leg?" "Sure. We can take my car." Chapter 3: The drive to the Pacific Mall was quick, marked by little traffic. It seemed everybody in this part of San Francisco wanted to sleep in today. It took us only a little bit of time to reach Vito's Kitchen. Stasi parked my car a little way down the street, snugly fitting the coupe in a small spot, way better than I ever could. She reached down, putting up the emergency brake and taking the key out of the ignition. I climbed out of the car, wincing in pain as my leg bumped against the frame of the car. I closed the door, hopping to the curb, and cursing under my breath. Stasi looked at me with a worried expression as she closed the car door, following me to curb. "It's the way you play, you know." She said, walking next to me at a slow pace as to not encourage me aggravate my injury further by keeping up with her. "Huh?" I asked, confused. "The way you play on the field." She made gestures with her hands. "You know, all of that scrambling and those QB Draws.That's how you get hurt. You played like that ever since you made me convince your mom to let you join Peewee football. You play recklessly like this in hockey, too!" She took a deep breath of air. "Chris, I know you love the game as much as I love you, but... frankly, you're not Cam Newton." She said flatly. "Every time I see you get hit, it worries me too much when you lay a second too long on the turf." Her words brought butterflies to my stomach. It was just something about the thought of knowing (not thinking) that someone you love is concerned about you 24/7. I also felt a little indignant. I mean, I wasn't Cam Newton for sure. I was a bit shorter and skinnier, but cut me some slack. I wasn't super big or strong. I was just fast and had an alright arm. I think I did pretty darn good for the cards I was dealt. "I just can't change the way I play, you know." I said, weakly. "Sure you can. Just throw it away if you get flushed out of the pocket, or actually start sliding for once instead of trying to run somebody over. Better yet, just throw it in the air in the general direction of Ricky and let his long arms catch it when you're under pressure. I'd rather he get hit then you. It might actually make him stop mouthing off." I laughed. "I'm sure he'd like to know that you said that." I said, as we came to the front entrance of the lavish restaurant. "What about 'Tricky Vik'? No throwing to him?" I opened the glass door, gesturing for Stasi to enter first. Tricky Vik was Viktor's moniker we gave him. It was a credit to his elusiveness on the field. "Thanks. And no, no throwing it to him either. I don't think my mom's heart can take it whenever she sees her son get hit. She was screaming in my ear every time he got tackled the entire game yesterday." I made a guilty note of that one. I always did my best to make sure I never hung my receivers out to dry, never chucking them a ball where I knew they could get blind sided. But even then, sometimes I made a poor judgement call and someone had to get helped off the field. I never really made a big mistake to the point where paramedics took to the field and I hope I never ever did. Look at me. I was already getting depressed before we even started our first official date. Not off to a good start. "Alright." I conceded. "I'll start trying to play a little bit less... creative. Now, let's just go enjoy our date." She smiled radiantly, kissing me on the lips. "I hardly think creative is the right word, but thank you, Chris. I love you." She said, softly. With all that needed to be said about the subject already being said, discussed, and concluded, we walked up to the hostess, hand in hand and smiles bright. The hostess looked up from her inspection of her computer on the wooden podium, smiling widely at us. "Hello! Welcome to Vito's Kitchen." She said, twirling her blonde hair in between her fingers. "Table for two, it looks like?" "Yes, please." Stasi said, smiling at the hostess widely. "Certainly, miss. I'll get you two sorted right away. You two look like an awfully cute couple. Would you like a booth or a regular table?" The hostess said, ducking beneath the podium to grab two menus. I looked around the restaurant, it was only half full so we could really pick out whatever we wanted. I looked at Stasi, who shrugged back at me. "Booth, if it's convenient for you guys." I said. I liked to stretch out. "Oh, it's not a problem at all, sir." She said, before standing up, gesturing towards us. "Right this wa-..." Her voice trailed off and she stared at Stasi, eyeing her suspiciously. A tension filled silence overcame the three of us. It got to the point where I grew uncomfortable. "Is something wrong?" I asked, confused. "No, you're fine. But her... teeth." She gave a look of shocked indignation. "She has fangs! She's a fucking blood sucker, isn't she?" I recoiled my head back, surprised at the hateful words falling from the hostess's mouth. It was a complete flip of the coin from her earlier cheerful attitude. "I'm a vampire, if that's what you mean." Stasi replied. Although her tone was diplomatic and passive in nature, I could tell she was shocked and hurt. "You are a fucking bloodsucker!" The hostess said, angrily. Chatter in the restaurant was coming to a standstill as people began to look over. She pointed a finger at me. "You're disgusting, you fucking freak. What? Do you get your rocks off to getting blood sucked out of you?" The venom laced in her words cut through the ambiance of the restaurant like a sword. "You both are absolutely disgusting. I don't think I can serve you in this restaurant. Both of you, just get out of here." I wanted nothing more than to do just that because I could see that Stasi was starting to get visibly upset and the stares of the rest of the patrons at the restaurant were making me quiver. Tears were threatening to escape from Stasi's eyes. She was always secretly ashamed of what she was, and now, this bigot was making her distraught for absolutely no reason. In a composed tone, I responded, "Please, can't we just..." "No. This is a Humans-Only establishment. We don't serve your kind. Get out, and take Miss Dracula with you." The hostess pointed towards the door behind us. Our verbal battle was attracting huge amounts of attention. Now, it seemed activity in the restaurant was coming to a stand still. Just before I could tell the hostess off for her blatantly racist slur, a man in a suit appeared beside the hostess, a mix of annoyance and empathy etched on his face. "What appears to be the problem here, Jennifer?" He asked, sighing, as if this was a problem that occurred multiple times before. Jennifer, the hostess, gestured to the both of us. "These two are trying to eat here but Vito's Kitchen is a Humans-Only establishment. Besides, do you see the vampire teeth? Do you see how big her fangs are? She's dangerous to the entire restaurant, Mr. Jasper!" The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right... thank you." He turned to me. "Pardon me, Mr..." "Williams. Christopher Williams." Recognition briefly flashed over his eyes. He clasped his hands together. "Unfortunately, Mr. Williams, my hostess is correct. Vito's Kitchen is indeed a Humans-Only establishment, qualified under the Definition of the Treatment of Other Species Act. Under the provisions set forth by the DTOSA, we reserve the legal right to decline service to you and your date here on the basis of her..." He struggled to find the words. "... predicament." At least he had the politeness to at least attempt to be politically correct. I was just about to cut him off, maybe pleading for the manager to give us some leeway and salvage what remained of our date, but Stasi beat me to it in a burst of anger. "Fine! Screw this place anyways. I have no time for this." She pointed her finger at the hostess. "You! I hope you trip down a flight of stairs, you racist pizda!" I wracked my brain for the last word she said, a smile breaking out on my face when I realized she called the hostess a cunt in Russian. That's my Stasi! She followed up with a barrage of Russian, too fast for my feeble grasp of the language to keep up, but I knew it wasn't anything complimentary. Before the situation could escalate, I grabbed her hand, squeezing it, cutting off her spew of outrage and calming her down in an instant. "Come on, Stasi. Let's go find somewhere else to eat. We're done here." I said calmly, leading her to the door. The manager beat me to it, taking large strides to get in front of us. "Please, allow me to escort you out." He said, opening the door. I merely shrugged, walking out after murmuring "Thanks." Both of us exited out in the warm afternoon, defeated. The manager followed after us, wringing his hands and apologizing profusely. "Again, I am so, so, sorry that we are unable to serve you two and the crassness of my hostess. It's unfair to you two, I know. You two hardly look dangerous at all." Stasi simply waved off the manager. "Forget about it. Sorry for what I said. You were just doing your job." She said, resigned. The manager bowed his head. "Apology accepted. You two must be hungry if you came all this way for Italian food. If you're looking for a really good Italian restaurant that will serve you, a small restaurant called Scaletta's is just down the street. It's a bit of a walk but the food is worth it. Again, I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience." The manager said. "Thank you, sir. We'll check it out." I said. The manager nodded, his eyes showing his empathy to our situation, before departing back into the restaurant, closing the door behind him. Stasi sighed, sitting down on the metal bench outside the restaurant. Exhausted by the intensity of her outburst, a far cry from her usual diplomatic, courteous, and reserved manner, (I was usually the firecracker out of the two) her shoulders slumped and she let her head down, putting her hands on her face glumly. I sat down next to her, putting my arm around her, not saying anything, seething over the rude hostess. It was a while before anybody spoke. "Sorry." Stasi sniffled. I snapped my head to her, realizing she was crying. I looked at her, flabbergasted. "For what?" She took her hands away from her face, gesturing to herself and her surroundings. "The day is pretty much a write off. I made you go outside when you're leg was hurting. I embarrassed us when I went off on that stupid bitch, and i'm a... a blood sucker." She spat out the last part, dark tears falling from her eyes, leaving behind streaks of red. Vampires can cry the same tears as humans, with one exception. In times of great distress and emotions, vampires can cry blood. "Stasi!" I said loudly, turning her to face me. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for! I wanted to go out with you today, hurt leg or not. Besides, when you went off on that hostess, that was the best thing I ever saw. When you just spouted off in Russian in that amazing accent of yours, you should've seen the look on her face. It was absolutely perfect. You're perfect." I took a deep breath, before continuing. "Stasi, when i'm with you, nothing can ruin my day at all. I love you so much that even if we spent our first date at the spot where I tried to jump off the slide and ended up breaking my wrist in the second grade, i'd absolutely have a blast. You know why? Because i'd be with you." Stasi wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse, leaving behind a stain of red on the cloth. "Do you really mean that?" She asked, staring at me with her large blue eyes. "Yes. I do." She wrapped her arms around me, crushing me in a hug with a cry. "You're right. Telling off that bitch of a hostess felt absolutely amazing. It was just so rude and mean what she said." She hiccuped softly. "Thanks, Chris. You always know what to say to make me feel better no matter how i'm feeling." "I had 13 years of experience." I replied. I broke the hug, standing up and extending my hand out to her and bowing my head, as if I was a prince pulled out of Anna Karenina. "Now, the manager said a fine Italian restaurant was just down the street. Why don't you allow me to escort you there, Lady Sokolov?" I offered, aristocratically. She sniffled and laughed at my cheesiness. She grasped hand and stood up, most of her sorrows gone at my antics. She smoothed out her mini-skirt and finished wiping off any red tear stains that marred her cheeks. "Certainly, Mr. Williams." She said softly, intertwining her fingers with mine in a perfect squeeze. "Shall we depart?" "We shall." I declared. We walked the rest of the way down the street, hand in hand, enjoying our afternoon as if we were any other couple enjoying a day off. Well, Stasi walked, I did a cross between a hop on one leg, a limp, and a walk. It certainly entertained Stasi, who was watching my efforts, bemused. We walked for about ten minutes, past bars, boutiques, and small businesses. It was disheartening to see trace amounts of segregation, such as small storefront signs saying: "Humans Only Establishment" or "Monsters Not Allowed.". Even then, they were few in between and far outnumbered. After all, this part of the city was known as a safe spot for monsters to socialize without being attacked, verbally or physically. We were walking for quite a while and were just about to turn back, just in case we might have missed the restaurant, when we finally came upon it. Tucked in between a historic barber shop and an antique store, was a small brick restaurant with "Scaletta's" written in bold on the door. Off to the side next to it was a sign that read: "All is Welcome!" There were a couple of tables on the front, but they were all empty and devoid of cutlery. In fact, the entire interior of the restaurant seemed rather empty, at least from our point of view. "Looks like this is it." Stasi murmured, looking at the front of the restaurant. "Do you think it's open?" "I don't know." I replied, my stomach growling. I hadn't had breakfast and I was starving. "Might as well as check." I walked to the door, wrapping my hand around the handle and pulling the door open. A bell jingled above us as we walked in, looking around. The interior was indeed empty, devoid of any customers and workers. However, it wasn't devoid of decorations. While Stasi was examining the menu on display, I was staring at the pictures decorating on the wall. There were alot and they were all dated, ranging from black and white 1923 to High Definition 1080p taken just last month. One picture caught my attention. It was of three young men sitting in an old World War 2 Era Jeep, rifles on their laps and smiling at the camera. They were waving and grinning as if it was the best day of their lives. I squinted at the faded writing on the corner of the picture, barely making it out. "12th of July, 1943. Fun in the sun from Sicily with the Wolf Pack." I read aloud. "Pardon?" Stasi asked, looking over at me confused. "Just reading the caption of the picture." I said. Both of our heads snapped to the kitchen when we saw the door opening, an elderly woman carrying plates over to the tables. She stopped, looking at us with a raised eyebrow. "Hello..." She said. "Can I help you?" "I... uh... two. Table for two." I said. The elderly woman set the plates down on the table, wiping her flour covered hands on her apron. Even though she was probably in her 50s, it would've been quite easy to mistake her for being in her 40s. She had a strict motherly look about her, her mere presence making me want to sit up straight and not mumble. "Well..." She began, distributing plates around the tables. "We don't really open for lunch until about one, but I hardly see the point of turning such a beautiful looking couple away when it's only 12:20." She finished, making me and Stasi's cheeks burn. She gestured to the table she just set. "Please, sit. I'll have my granddaughter bring you some menus." She turned her head towards the kitchen, which I noticed had a few shadows moving about in it. "Emilia, we have two guests." She called out. "One minute, nonna!" A soft voice replied from the kitchen. I pulled out Stasi's chair for her, grinning at her abashed expression at my gentlemanly conduct. "Fool.." She murmured, her pale cheeks still tinged red. I walked over to my side of the table, scraping my chair out and sitting down. The woman set down two menus in front of us. "My granddaughter will sort you two out. Enjoy your lunch. " She said, patting me on the shoulder, leaving behind white specks of flour on my shirt. "Thank you." I said, trying to ignore Stasi, who was burying her face in her menu, trying not to laugh. The woman nodded, smiling at me before heading back into the kitchen. I glared back at Stasi, who was peering at me over the top of the menu. "You have something on your shoulder." She giggled. Although I could only see her eyes, I knew she was smiling. Widely. Whenever she smiled, her eyes had that beautiful twinkle in them. I gave her my best "Are you kidding?" look. Stasi shrugged, before diving back into the menu to decide what to eat. My eyes flitted down to the menu, trying to also decide what to eat. I was absolutely starving. Everything looked and sounded absolutely incredible. I was debating on whether to get a steak piadine or pasta when our waitress finally came over. "Whew! Sorry about that, we're trying to teach my little nephew the ropes of dishwashing and he thought it'd be funny to splash around like he was in a pool." She said, before stopping at our table, looking at Stasi with wide eyes. "Anna?" She asked, baffled. "Emily?" Stasi replied, equally confused. "What are you doing here?" My normally great memory was failing me at the moment. I had certainly seen the girl before and heard her name. I wracked my brain for it, before it finally hit me. The quiet girl who was in our biology class. Her brown hair was done up in a tight bun and she was wearing a button up with slacks, but it was definitely her. I tried in vain to remember her name, but grasped at nothing but air. Emily pointed to her name tag, where Emilia was printed on it in loopy cursive font. "My family owns the restaurant and I work here on weekends. Now what are you doing here?!" She chattered, excitedly. So that was her name! Emily Scaletta, the werecat! It was at the tip of my tongue. "I'm on a date. The restaurant up the street couldn't serve us, so the manager directed us here." Stasi replied. "A date?" Emily inquired. Her eyes finally left Stasi and it looked like she was just noticing I was sitting there for the first time. "Christopher Williams!?" She asked. "Oh, it's so great to see you, Chris! Both of you. You two look like such a cute couple together. I can't believe it. My little brother is going to be so jealous. He's a seventh grader and thinks you're the most coolest thing since sliced bread." I felt my cheeks burning at the compliment. I didn't handle praise all that well. "I'm... not all that special." I admitted, awkwardly. Stasi laughed. "No need to be modest, Chris." She said. Emily nodded in affirmation. "Seriously, a lot of people, and not just at our school, know your name. Not just for your football skills, either! I don't think the local news reported on anything other than you the entire week, and you can expect even more attention after that win over Jefferson. Monster Rights Activists have been going absolutely off the wall over that one... even more so with what you did" She said, pointing her finger at Stasi. "That moment when you kissed Chris in front of the entire school. That was so romantic. I don't think the local newspapers have reported on anything else. You two have been all the talk on social media." She gushed. My eyes widened at the thought of my entire love life and private life being put on blast for the entire public to see. "Thanks." Stasi stammered. Now that the spotlight was firmly on her, it was her turn to be flustered and have her cheeks blush. "It was honestly a heat of the moment thing. I didn't plan it or anything, it just... happened. I saw him and I just did it." Emily sighed. "I wish I had someone to do that to." She said, wistfully. "Her brother is single." I offered. Lord knows that guy needed a girlfriend. "Whose brother? Hers? Viktor Sokolov? Ha, fat chance of that happening." Emily laughed. "Although, he is pretty cute, I don't see myself dating a sophomore." "He's a junior." Stasi remarked. "He is? Goes to show how much I know about him, then." She said. After a moment, she clicked her pen, taking out her notepad. "Alright, now... i've procrastinated on taking your orders long enough. You two look like you're starving, and there's always time to talk after you get food. My grandmother's cooking is absolutely off the wall. You guys ready to order now, or what?" "Uh... yeah, i'm ready. Stasi, are you?" I asked. Stasi nodded her head. "I'll have the chicken alfredo, with a water..." Emily nodded, jotting it down. "Would you like a synthetic blood pack on the side?" She asked. Stasi shook her head. "No thank you... and no garlic in the pasta please, thank you very much." She said, handing over her menu. I buried my face into my menu, snorting, which consequently earned me a swift kick under the table to my good leg. "Ow!" I yelped. Emily looked at me in the middle of taking Stasi's menu, puzzled. "Everything OK, Chris?" She asked. "Yeah." I mumbled. I wasn't even mad. I earned that kick. Even though Stasi was a massive foodie, she just didn't find garlic pleasant to her palate. Much to her ire, I always found the stereotype comical. I reached down to gingerly massage the spot of the kick. Having taken a few years of Taekwondo and other martial arts with Stasi, she had a pretty hard kick when she wanted to have one. Of course, this one wasn't as hard as it could've been. "I'll have the steak piadine, please. Water as well." I said. Still a tad bit confused at my outburst, Emily scribbled the order down. "Alright, so that's one steak piadine and a chicken alfredo, with two waters..." I nodded affirmatively. "Great! I'll just give this to my nonna, one moment." She said, taking my menu. She turned around, heading towards the kitchen to deliver our orders. When I was sure that Emily was gone, I turned back to Stasi, a look on my face. "That kick was so unnecessary." I said, exasperated. "No, it wasn't." She replied, childishly. She stuck out her tongue for good measure. A soft, pink, spongy tongue that i've gotten acquainted with in the past week. "Yes, it was." I insisted, pushing those thoughts out of my mind. "Oh, come on. I didn't even kick you that hard, dummy. What? Can't take a hit?" She taunted, a silly grin gracing her lips. We bickered back and forth as if we were children in elementary school again. It was like the time when we were arguing who was taller (she was, until the eighth grade when I finally hit my growth spurt and shot over her.) Our arguing came to an abrupt end when the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing Emily, who was clutching a large glass of icy water in each hand. "Ok," She murmured. "That's one water for you, Anna... and another one for you, Chris." She set the glasses down in front of us. She wiped her wet hands on her apron, leaving a dark hand print shaped stain on the fabric. "You guys good? Need anything else? No? Alright, i'll be back in a moment with your food." She gave us a low wave, departing back to the kitchen. I watched her retreating back, a wistful smile on my face. A part of me wanted her to stay and pull up a chair. I was sitting stiffly, as if I was worried that i'd ruin the date on accident at any moment. I took a deep breath and flitted back to Stasi, who was sipping her water through her straw coyly and staring back at me. "What?" She asked. "Too scared to argue with me, anymore?" "Nope. Just admiring how lucky I am to have a beautiful girlfriend such as you." I answered. Smooth as butter, I was. That line got her blushing and took the air out of any fight she had in her. She slid her glass of water away from her, leaving behind a trail of condensation. "Any more compliments and you'll make my head big. But, it's not you that's lucky... it's me. I just can't believe how perfect my life is right now, with you." She sighed, happily. She propped her chin up on her hands, her wide smile still present. Her fangs were pronounced, as they always were when she was happy. Sharp teeth that accentuated her smile. "So, hockey season is coming up. Are you excited?" "We barely won our first game yesterday and you're already thinking about hockey?" I laughed. She shrugged. "I'm always thinking about hockey... or just winter sports in general. I mean, I like football as much as the next person, but didn't you say you liked hockey just a little bit more?" I thought on that for a second. Had I said that? I probably did. "That's true, but football is far from over. I wouldn't be doing my team a favor if I was thinking about another sport with only 10% of the season under my belt... but yes, i'm excited for winter in general. I can't believe how lucky we were that Belcourt had a rink already." Being a disused establishment that served the more affluent part of San Francisco, many of Belcourt facilities were top notch. We had everything pre-made for us, all we had to do was settle in. We already ranked far higher in terms of quality than the other boarding schools dedicated to monsters littered all throughout the state and the country. It was a tad bit unfair, but hey, c'est la vie. "Totally. You should ask Principal Finch if she'd let us take it for a spin. I'm pretty sure she likes you more than me." Stasi chirped. "Do you remember when we used to figure skate? That was so fun." "It was." I agreed. Stasi was the most graceful person on ice, gliding as if she was floating. Whenever she figure skated, it was absolutely beautiful to see. "Let's go ask Principal Finch if we can start going in the winter," I continued. "After they treat the ice and all. You should go with me to her office and give her the 'eyes'. No one can resist those." Stasi laughed. "Sure. It's a plan." We continued our small talk, our conversation ranging from school, to family, to whether or not I could convince my parents to finally let me adopt a dog, and even the ski trip our families planned to have this Winter. Normal talk, talk that would've filled any conversation we had between us prior to us dating. I realized she was still the same old Stasi. We just made our relationship better, is all. After a few more moments, Emily finally appeared through the kitchen door, holding onto a platter of food. Smiling, she placed our steaming hot plates of food in front of us. "Anything else you need?" She asked once she finished, hands on her hips. Stasi shook her head. "No, thank you. This all looks delicious." Emily smiled pridefully, before bidding us a good meal and returning to the kitchen. The rest of lunch was uneventful, passing through with light conversation while we ate. Even though she was a vampire, Stasi inhaled her food as if her life depended on it. I certainly ate as if my life depended on it. We were that hungry. It was as if we were honored guests at the restaurant, with Emily always making sure our glasses were full as well as our bellies. It wasn't until I was finally stuffed did our waiter bring our check... except it wasn't Emily. The waiter was tall, around my height, and lanky. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and was balding. He strode over to us, walking authoritatively and proudly. As he came to the table, I couldn't help but notice four other heads pop out from behind the kitchen door to watch. As soon as I saw the small black leather folder the waiter was holding in his hand, I discreetly moved by hand down to my lap. "Oh no you don't." Stasi hissed, reaching into her purse as soon as she saw me try to subtly reach for my wallet. We always fought over who paid for who when we went out to eat. More often than out, we'd simply concede and split the check, but this was our first date. It was my duty as a boyfriend to pay after the crappy start we had to our day. "Nuh uh." I said, sharply. "I'm paying." "No way. I was the one that invited you to go out anyways. I should be the one paying." "Incorrect, Anastasia." The waiter smiled at the both of us, the way a teacher would look at their favorite pupil. "Your meal is on the house." Stasi looked at the waiter with a confounded expression. "How did you know my name?" "Giovanni Scaletta knows all." He said mysteriously, before chuckling. "I know all my daughter's friends, whether they are acquaintances or best of friends. She told me about you, and of course, it's all the San Francisco Pack can talk about, the daughter of Antonov Sokolov, renowned vampire politician, is dating Christopher Williams, a human!" The waiter gave a bark of laughter and clapped me on the shoulder. "Christopher, you are going to be remembered a long time. Emily hadn't told you about her little brother, has she? He's a big fan of yours. He wants to be an astronaut, the little twelve year old that he is. But unfortunately, because of what he is, he can't reach for the stars. But then again, who knows what he could do in the future?" "You have a good heart and you're a good man. It was a pleasure for my family to serve you here at Scalleta's. You, Anastasia, your families, they are are welcome to eat here anytime. Know that you have friends in this city's Pack." He placed the check on the table, opening it at a 45 degree angle, revealing two chocolate mints and a piece of paper with a large zero written on it. He clapped me once more on the shoulder. "Good luck with your endeavors, Christopher. You as well, Anastasia." He patted me once more on the shoulder before turning to the kitchen. My eyes travelled down to the black leather folder encasing the check. The name of the restaurant was imprinted onto it in silver, along with an outline of a wolf. I swiftly snatched the check before Stasi could grab it, placing it on my side of the table. "At least let me split the tip with you." She begged. "No." "Please?" She pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. I almost balked under her wide, watery eyes. The old sick-puppy dog look. My only weakness, but with thirteen years of experience with them under my belt, they weren't so much a big weakness anymore. "No." I said, my voice adopting a steely tone, hopefully to avoid belaying my wavering resoluteness. She leaned forward. Our table was small, so she could've easily reached for it and taken it had she wanted it that badly. But, I had a feeling she liked playing this game more. Her face came close to mine, a small smile upturning the corners of her mouth. "Please?" She whispered, huskily. "I'll make it worth your while when we get back home." And... I have a new weakness. My breathing grew labored at how close she was, and I found myself leaning forward ever so slightly to meet her soft lips in the middle. "I'll let you win." I murmured. "Just this once." She smirked, reaching for the check with her left hand, but using her right to wrap it around the back of my head. She pulled me towards her, closing the gap and allowing our two lips to meet in a soft kiss. When we finally broke the kiss for air, I had a noticeable bulge in my pants. Thankfully, the tablecloth was covering my lap. We set about splitting the check right down the middle. Just as Stasi began to collect her purse, the elderly woman, Emily's grandmother, came streaking out once more from the kitchen, holding a digital camera. "Wait, wait!" She yelped. "Please don't leave yet! I want to take a picture of the both of you so we can put it on our wall." My eyes travelled over to Stasi. She was always a bit shy on camera, never liking her picture taken much. She scrunched up her face thoughtfully, before shrugging. "Why not?" She said. The elderly lady beamed, holding the camera up to her eye. Me and Stasi leaned in close, both of us grinning happily as the woman snapped a photo of us. Chapter: 4 I was driving this time around, back to Stasi's house. Even with my bum leg and all, I was still a very... alright driver. Pulling up onto her street, I parked on the curb next to her house, pulling up the E-Brake. I realized I probably could've driven here blindfolded. Stasi leaned over the center console, staring at me with merriment. "A bit shaky driving there, Lightning McQueen." I snapped my head towards her upon hearing her verbal jab. "My driving's not that bad!" I argued. She nodded her head, thoughtfully. "I guess it isn't. You could've done a lot worse." She admitted. She gave me a peck on the lips, stroking my cheek affectionately. "My driving is still way better though." I snorted. "It so isn't." I opened the car door, exiting my car. "It totally is." Stasi called out before I closed the door on her. The passenger door opened, her head poking out. I crossed around my car, holding onto her hand and hobbling towards the front door. "What? No snarky retort about how you're driving is better than mine?" She prodded. I shook my head. "No, i'm not taking that bait." I said. "You're no fun." She huffed, bumping her shoulder softly into mines. We arrived at the front door and she let go of my hand to stoop down, reaching under the 'Welcome Home' doormat for the house key. While she was unlocking the front door, I looked at the driveway. Judging from the car still out on the driveway, a sleek silver Mercedes with tinted windows to ward off the sun, at least one of her parents were home. She unlocked the front door, pushing it open and walking inside with me in tow. "Mama, Papa, i'm home!" She called out. A voice called back in Russian. "We're in the study!" Judging from the feminine tone, it was Yulia, unless Anton somehow hit reverse puberty where his deep and intimidating voice turned up a few pitches. Stasi looked at me, shrugging, before walking to the study with me to check in with her parents. "What do you think they're doing?" "Hm..? Oh. Probably working. You know how my dad gets when he works. He doesn't make any decisions in his life without consulting mom... sort of like a special someone I know." She mocked, smiling at me widely. "I'll have you know that I can make some decisions on my own, thank you very much." "Yeah right." Stasi said. "You couldn't choose which courses to apply for without blowing up my cellphone." She had me on that one. We arrived at the entrance to the study, a wooden door slightly ajar being the only thing in the way. There were a lot of unspoken rules in the Sokolov Household. One of them had to deal with doors and the proper etiquette regarding them. A closed door firmly meant no barging in without knocking (Elena was the least privy to this rule). A slightly ajar door meant you could enter, but you had to announce you were coming in. A wide open door meant open season. Stasi knocked politely on the door, opening it slowly. "Mama? Papa?" She called out. "Come in, Anna! Is Christopher here? I thought I heard his voice." "Yes, mama, he's here." Stasi opened the door, entering the study with me. Even though i've been in this room an innumerable amount of times (there were some excellent hide and seek spots in here), my breath was still taken away. The study was a large circular room, easily one of the biggest rooms in the house. An incredible collection of books, making up the entire private library of Anton, was tucked away neatly in five large bookshelves off to the side. A portrait of the Sokolov family, taken a few years ago, hung in the center of the room above the desk. When I say Sokolov family, I don't mean the five people that I knew and loved. I meant the entire family, including cousins, aunts, uncles, everybody. There were almost a hundred people in that portrait and Staring once told me that wasn't even the whole family. Yulia looked up when we entered. She was standing over Anton, looking over a document with him at Anton's desk. His desk was cluttered and disorganized, the only thing that resembled any sense of order being the tungsten picture frame. It was tungsten, but looked like silver. He wanted a silver picture frame, but didn't want to burn or irritate his fingers every time he wanted to get a closer look at the photo. The picture inside was a photo of me, Stasi, Elena, and Viktor, at Stasi's tenth birthday party. "You're home late." Yulia said, flatly. "And past curfew, no less." Anton continued, taking off his glasses and looking up at the both of us. His eyes flickered to our interlocked fingers, the corners of his lips upturning. His expression, however, remained stern. "I know, papa. I'm sorry. I was just so tired and sleepy that maybe I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to sleep over. I would've thought you would've known." Anton drummed his fingers on the counter. I didn't think he was pleased with Stasi's answer. Finally, he spoke. "Understandable. But do you remember what I told you about communication?" "Yes, papa. The single biggest issue with communication..." "Is the illusion that it has taken place. " Yulia finished. I knew that quote so well it was second nature. "Did you communicate with us that you were staying the night?" "No, mama." Stasi admitted. "Sorry." Yulia nodded, a warm smile on her face. "Apology accepted. Now, can you do me and your father a favor by checking on the potatoes in the oven for me and making sure Viktor doesn't snatch any? I would do it myself, but it appears your father can't go one minute without wanting to throw something at the wall." She patted Anton on the shoulder, smiling down at him lovingly. "Yes, mama." Stasi said, relieved that she wasn't going to get chewed out any further. "Come on, Chris." She said, preparing to drag me out of the room, lest her parents change their minds about punishing Stasi. "Wait." Anton said, making the both of us freeze. "Chris, you stay. We need to talk." Stasi looked at me worriedly with her wide crystal blue eyes. "I'll be fine." I murmured. Stasi looked back at my parents, then back at me, and nodded. She gave me a peck on the cheek, leaving the room. "Close the door on the way out, please." Yulia called out Stasi as she left. The wooden door creaked as it closed, before shutting, sealing me in the study. I swallowed nervously, facing the two adult vampires in front of me. Growing up with them, they were always like a loving second pair of parents to me, but now? I couldn't help but feel intimidated by their stares. "Why do you look so nervous, Chris? We're just having a talk. Come here, son." Anton said, beckoning me towards him. I walked slowly towards the desk, shuffling one foot in front of the other. I stood at the front of his desk, where he gestured to the chair. "Sit down, Chris." I pulled the chair out from behind the desk, sitting down on the plush leather, as stiff as a board. Yulia smiled warmly at me. "Christopher, I know how this must feel like the part where you meet the girlfriend's parents, but trust me... it's far from it." Anton nodded enthusiastically. "Indeed." Yulia gently massaged Anton's shoulders, before continuing. "Chris, when Anna was born, I was the happiest i've ever been in my life. My children became my whole world. Everything me and my husband do is because of them. We tried to make sure they were raised far better than we ever were." She sighed. "Of course, because of what we are," She gestured to herself, then Anton. "Things haven't been as smooth as they could've been. It's certainly not as terrible as the persecution we faced in the past, but it wasn't. We had the vampire stigma, the 'aura of death', as some people liked to call it. Imagine how heartbroken me and Anton were when Anna grew up without friends, frigid, and unhappy. It seemed as if everybody was afraid of her." She closed her eyes, before opening them and staring down at me pridefully. "Then, she met you. Suddenly, she couldn't wait to go to school in the morning. She couldn't wait for the weekend to come so she could go to the park with you. She certainly couldn't wait for the playdates that she meticulously planned. All of this came to be, because of some special young man, who I love as my own son, and who can never seem to stop smiling and be positive all the time." She said, proudly, making my cheeks stain red. "Chris, we're not here to chastise you for having feelings for Anna, as a matter of fact, we're happy that you do. Both us and your parents. We've always been unsure how the two of you would turn out. Would you realize that she was a girl? Would she realize that you were a boy? We're happy that the both of you found each other and took another leap in your relationship, even knowing that she wasn't... necessarily human. We know you would never intentionally hurt her, or anybody for that matter. We just want to thank you for giving her a reason to be happy." "Thank you. I love your daughter with every fiber of my being, and I have for a while. I'll promise to treat her right, you have my word." When I said the word love, Yulia clasped her hands, sighing happily. "I've been waiting to hear those words ever since Stasi came home from that first day in Kindergarten." Anton smiled before it disappeared. "Christopher, we do have something serious that we have something to ask you. Has Anna asked to feed off of you?" I gulped, before shaking my head. "No.." I said, my voice wavering slightly. I was a terrible liar, even if it wasn't technically a lie. "I offered to let her." I admitted. Anton's expression softened. "I expected nothing less from you. When was this?" "Only about a week ago." Anton sighed. "What you two do behind closed doors is your own business. We try to respect your privacy, so we will not pry. I know you are both smart and feeding is an inherent part of vampire biology. It is how we nourish our bodies, but it is a dangerous process. Even if it feels good, you must know that it can kill you." "Indeed. I know you two trust each other with your lives, but if Anna accidentally overdoes it and hurts you... I don't think she would ever forgive herself." Yulia inserted. "All we are saying is... be safe and be careful." Anton finished. "Yes, sir." "Oh, what did I say about that 'sir' business, Chris? That should be all... if i'm mistaken. No, one last thing, before you leave.." He shifted the document on his desk to the side, revealing a silver envelope underneath. "Do you know what the Coven Ball is, Chris?" I nodded. "Yes." Stasi told me about the Ball. Every year, the San Francisco Coven got together and held a gala on Halloween. It's so everyone and their families could all socialize and get to know each other without talking about politics. It also was a chance for the 'actual' Coven, the one with the Royal Family, complete with Princes and Princesses, to show their faces. They came all the way from New York City. The balls were extravagant, old-fashioned, and supposedly dreadfully boring. Stasi and her family usually went away to go to the Gala. The last one was held in New York City, the one before that, it was held Chicago. This year, it was supposed to be in a very high class venue right here in San Francisco, my favorite city in the world. Although, I did live here so that was probably going to make me a bit biased. "Good. I don't need to explain that much about it, then." He held up the envelope. "This invitation was sent to your house this morning. Your parents knew that you'd come by eventually, so they wanted me to give this you. They told me to tell you how proud they are of you and what kind of man you have become. You can expect the same conversation from them when you go home tonight." He looked at the envelope pensively. "You'll be the first human to be invited as a Guest of Honor of the San Francisco Coven to this year's Coven Ball. There will be many people in attendance, including businessmen, politicians, college deans, and if I am not mistaken... the Royal Family is eager to attend. If my ears do not decieve me, I hear Princess Josephine Duquette wishes to meet you personally and talk to you about the DTOSA." "Which princess wants to meet me?" I asked, feeling a little bit of an ego boost at the thought of an actual princess wanting to meet me... only a little bit though. I didn't know who she was and besides, I had Stasi. I made a mental note to ask her who Princess Duquette was. I knew a bit about the Royal Family, but I wasn't a super big aficionado of their lineage. The name was familiar but I couldn't put a face to it. Anton's smile grew bigger. "The only way to find out is if you attend, Chris. I sincerely hope you do. Anna will need a date, and what better person to be that date than the young man who stole her heart and half of the monster community here in the city?" My eyes widened. Stasi and her family always attended the Coven Ball as Anton was a highly touted member of the Coven itself, but it finally registered that going to this thing for the first time was an actual possibility. "Anton, I don't think i'm... that important." I stammered. "Maybe it'd be better to invite someone else... like an actual famous person or something." Yulia looked at me for a second with a blank expression on her face, before laughing melodically. She had the same exact laugh that Stasi had. "Chris," She said, when she calmed down. "There has been no one making more waves in this entire debacle than you. Everyone that is a monster wants to meet you or shake your hand. You're a natural politician and you don't even know it. Your prowess in doing what is right is only equaled in your athletics and academics. Besides, if there's anybody that could make one of these dreadful balls anyone in attendance, it's seeing you and Stasi together." "Thank you." I said, shyly. "Let the boy be modest." Anton said, patting his wife's hand. "It'd be wise not to tell Stasi about the invitation, Chris. Let her be surprised when her knight in shining armor shows up in his tuxedo to escort her to what she claims as the most dreadful, boring, and tedious day of the year. I don't blame her either. Do you remember the time she tried to get of going to the Ball by feigning sickness to go trick or treating with Chris, Ricardo, Lucy, and Jasmine, Yulia?" Yulia laughed. "Of course. The old, 'Oh mama, I feel like I have a stomach ache. I don't think I can go to the Ball' one week before we left. She still got her fair share of candy from Chris's bag." "Indeed she did. Ironically, she must've eaten herself sick when we did get back that weekend." Anton chuckled. She did eat herself to the point where she actually got sick, but I got a kiss on the cheek as payment for all the loot I shared with her. Anton looked down at the clock on his desk. "Oh, don't let us take up any more of your time, Christopher. Anna must be tearing her hair out at the thought of the two of us reprimanding you to shreds. Go on." I nodded my thanks, taking the letter from Anton and placing it in my back pocket safely. Just as I was about to exit, Yulia called me back, her warm eyes now occupied with worry. "Chris, one last thing, I promise. I forgot to tell you, but your mother and I agreed to shorten Anna's and your curfew from ten to nine PM." "Wait.. what?" "For your own safety. I know you two watch each other's backs better than anybody I know, but there are some people out there who don't agree with what you are doing. Even if you are outside before the curfew, do make sure to stick together. Those psikhs that painted on your garage door? They're nothing compared to what some of these fanatics can do. Please do be safe." Anton nodded vigorously. "Yes, please. Keep my little girl safe." I knew where these guys were coming from. In the past month, there's been numerous attacks on monster families by human supremacists. They ranged from harmless things like vandalism to some crazy stuff like arson. Switching schools from Jefferson to Belcourt painted a pretty big target on my back and I suspected those fools who spray painted my garage door weren't going to be the alst of them. "Yes, I promise." I said. Yulia smiled. "Then that's all there is. Spasibo. You're free to go, Chris." I politely nodded, leaving the room and closing the door quietly behind me. I walked the short distance into the kitchen, looking for Stasi. She was sitting at the kitchen table nervously, her hands clasped on her lap. When she saw me, she went to her feet. "What'd they say?" She asked. "I'll tell you about it in your room. How are the potatoes?" "Don't change the subject! Tell me now." She said angrily, poking me on the chest. "Please?" I asked, giving her my best puppy dog look. Stasi's angry expression withered and softened. She closed her eyes, murmuring something that probably wasn't very nice under her breath. "Fine." She said. "And the potatoes are delicious, thanks for asking." She stalked past me and up the stairs to her room, which had me hopping on one leg up the steps to keep up with her. We walked past Viktor's room, then Elena's, and then finally, her room. Her room was similar in layout to mine if not a tad bit bigger. Her queen bed was neatly made and tucked away in the corner, with mounds of pillows and blankets. A white desk was pushed up against the wall, with her laptop closed shut. Above her desk was a small wall-mounted TV that provided numerous hours of entertainment whenever I came over. Stasi shrugged off her purse, dropping it on the spinny chair at her desk, and plopped down on her bed, shifting backward until she was up against the wall. She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for me to sit or lay down. I didn't need any further invitation. I dove onto the bed, making the mattress sink. I laid there face down, until Stasi nudged my body with her foot impatiently. "You said you were going to tell me." She whined, her cute Russian accent melding her words. "I did?" I teased, my voice coming out muffled because my face was in the mattress. I rolled to the left and onto my back, looking up at her. Stasi criss crossed her legs, providing a faux pillow for my head to rest on. She placed her hands on the sides of my head, maneuvering my face so I was looking directly up at her. "Yes, you did. Now talk, before I make you." She said, baring her fangs. I laughed. "Alright! Sheesh. So impatient. Right... what did they say... what did they say... I think I might've forgotten." Stasi angrily flicked me on the forward. "Ow! Alright, alright, relax! Your parents just told me how happy they were they we found each other." Stasi raised her eyebrow at that one. "Oh really?" She asked. "Yes, really. They also asked if you asked to feed off of me." The hands that were on either side of my head and were gently massaging my scalp froze. Stasi looked at me horrified."What did you tell them?" She asked, her voice a deathly whisper. "I said yes, you begged me to let you feed off of me and I had no choice." "Chris!" She exclaimed, shocked. "I'm kidding! I said yes, but that I offered and it was my choice alone. They just want us to be careful about doing it in the future, y'know, in case I get hurt." Stasi sighed in relief and gently smacked me on the cheek. "Don't scare me like that ever again. My parents are staunch supporters of that no-live-feeding-without-consent stuff. If they ever thought that I fed on you without consent, they'd send me to the mountains of Siberia. You'd never ever see me again But... in all honesty, did I hurt you when I did it?" She asked, worriedly. "No, you didn't." I said, reaching up and stroking her cheek. Stasi leaned forward, her raven hair tickling my face. "It felt good. It felt good to know that I was helping the person that I love." "So they're not mad at us or anything?" "Nope, far from it. They're happy. Real happy." She smiled. "I'd kiss you right now, but I don't think i'm that flexible to bend down over 100 degrees." Her hands gently roamed all along my face. Stasi gently picked my head up, pushing me softly so I got the hint to rotate myself so I was laying lengthwise along the bed. She laid down to me, giving me the hot kiss that she couldn't do before. I wrapped my right arm around her, pulling her in close. I slid my tongue in between her lips and sought out hers, sucking at it gently and moaning softly into her mouth, relishing the feeling of her fangs gently moving my lips and tongue. Simply from kissing her and the sensation of her body pressed to mine sent shivers up my spine and I began to harden instantly. There was no way she could've avoided it, her thigh pressed up against me that she was. "You know how I said i'd make it worth your while at the restaurant?" Stasi panted, breaking the kiss. "Mhm..." "I think i'm going to have to give you another rain check. My parents are downstairs and they have some great hearing. I don't think they'd appreciate it if they caught you having sex with me..." "You'll just have to be quiet, then." "Wai-.. what?" "Just trust me. Tell me if you hear them coming." Vampires had very acute hearing after all. Probably why I never managed to ever sneak up on Stasi unless I got really lucky. I gave her another soft kiss, before moving down her body, kissing the hollow of her throat. Stasi gasped and steadily fumbled with the buttons on her blouse to free her collar, but I grabbed hold of her hands, keeping them from touching anything. I looked up at her, winking, before I sucked on her neck one last time, making her sigh, and moved down to her stomach. Her eyes were closed and she was panting, her chest rising and falling with every labored breath. I finally moved down from her blouse, to her skirt, then to that sweet area in between her legs. Even though it was covered with panties, I knew that she was soaking. The wet material said it all. I gently hiked up her skirt, revealing inch after inch of mouth watering pale, cold flesh and making her hips shake in anticipation at what was to come. "Chris.." Stasi mumbled. I looked up at her face, seeing her loving gazing down at me, a blush staining her cheeks. "Just move them to the side." I returned my gaze to her panties, reaching for the material with my fingers, and shifting them to the side, revealing her pussy. It was beautiful, a nice shade of pink with light puffy lips. I swallowed in anticipation before moving my face forward. I poked my tongue out and softly licked the outside, going all the way around and making sure I missed what I thought was her clut, making small kisses. Stasi squirmed, sighing softly and groaning at my teasing. "Chris..." She breathed out. "Are you trying to make me beg or something?" That actually sounded like a wonderful idea and I was about to make some smart ass reply in the affirmative, but I thought against it. She'd probably murder me if I ever made her beg. I gave her slit a lick, bottom to top, then, using my left hand, opened up her lips. With vigor and love making up for my inexperience, I softly began to suck on her clit. Stasi gave a gasp of surprise at the sensation as I pressed two fingers into her pussy, sliding them into her tight interior. "Oh god." She squeaked. She began emitting groans and sighs of pleasure, clamping her hand over her mouth to keep from crying around, and squirming around on the bed. She wrapped her other hand on top of my close cropped hair, keeping my face pinned in her skirt as I licked at the most sensitive parts of her body. "Oh, Chris." She groaned out, rocking her hips against my face and fingers. I'mm pretty sure I was getting the hang of this. With all her squirming, writhing, and gasping, it was a miracle that she wasn't making any more noise. She began to get even wetter as I continued to slide my fingers in and out of her tight pussy, and all the while sucking on her clit, never wanting to stop pleasing her. Maybe it was the fact that we were still fully clothed. Maybe it was the danger of getting caught, the risk factor. I'm not sure what it was that made this so fun and attractive. I don't even know why I was doing this, or even why Stasi was letting me do this, but I was enjoying it immensely. "Oh... fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." Stasi quietly chanted. She cried out into her hand, using her other to grasp my head. "Don't stop. Please don't stop, Chris." She begged, as she grinded against my face. She strained her body, before beginning to shudder uncontrollably. Her grip on the sheets grew slack and the wild squirming and rocking that occupied her hips ceased, falling back on the bed. Stasi sighed in relief, swallowing in air, sweat trickling drown from her forehead. "Oh.. my... god." She groaned. I slowed the pace of my fingers, slowing down from a intense pace to a gentle sliding in and out. They were coated in her juices and my jaw was a bit sore at her grinding, but I didn't care. Hell, I loved every second of this, even more so because I knew that I was the cause of all of it. As Stasi calmed down from her orgasm, I broke off, gently pulling down the skirt to cover her delicious looking thighs once more. I climbed up the bed, laying down next to her. A sheen of sweat covered her face. Judging from the glow of her skin, she loved everything I did. Stasi wrapped her arms around me, staring at me with wonder. "How did yo-... how..?" I laughed at her question. For once, Stasi was the one that was speechless and not me. "How, how what?" I asked, faking a stammer as she did. "How did you do that? That felt so amazing. I was just... whew. That was the greatest thing ever. That can't be a one time thing." "Oh trust me, it's not a one time thing. " "It better not, or else i'd have to give you a blowjob to make sure it wasn't." She said, catching her breath and giving me another kiss on the lips. We laid there, holding each other, simply catching our breaths and staring at the ceiling before Stasi's ears perked up. It didn't take long for me to hear it too, the loud footsteps, the fast pace... I stared at the door in horrified anticipation, expecting it to burst open with Elena prancing in like a dancer. The footsteps stopped at the door, three loud knocks alerting us to someone wanting to gain entry. Stasi looked at herself, making sure she looked presentable and not looking as if she just underwent a mindblowing orgasm. "Come in!" She called, once she was satisfied with her appearance. The door opened, Elena walking in, an orange Under Armor soccer ball in her hands. "Honey, i'm home." She sang out. She grinned widely at the two of us on Stasi's bed. "Hulllloooo, love den. Did I interrupt something?" She asked, mischievously. "No you didn't." I said, my voice not even that least bit convincing. I subtly wiped my mouth as I sat up on the bed. "Did you just get back from practice, squirt?" I winced at my poor choice of words. But hey, it was Elena's nickname. She loved it and I loved it as well. Elena shook her head, her blonde ponytail bobbing from side to side. "Nope. I just went to the park to play some pick up soccer with friends, and when I came home, I saw Chris's car in the driveway. Oh, Stasi, by the way, Mama told me to tell you to come downstairs to help cook for dinner." Stasi sighed, sitting up. "Tell her I'm on my way." She said, gesturing for Elena to leave. "She meant like... now." Elena said, a grin on her face. "Don't worry, i'll take care of 'dearest Christopher' for you." I laughed at the over-the-top Russian accent when she said 'dearest Christopher'. Stasi gave me an exasperated look, as if disappointed that I was encouraging all this by laughing. "Don't look at me like that. It's funny. Besides, i'll be fine." I said, in hopes of convincing her. "It's not you i'm worried about." She replied, smoothing out her skirt as she stood up, leaving the room and glaring at Elena suspiciously. Elena merely grinned and waved, being the little ball of positive sunshine that she was. The room grew silent when Stasi left, before I spoke. "You knocked this time around." I observed, swinging my legs off the bed and inhaling a deep breath as I gingerly stood up. My leg wasn't as bad as it was this morning, but it still hurt a little bit. Elena shrugged, abashed. "Would you rather I have burst in?" She replied. I knew her being polite wasn't the only reason that she was doing this. She was starting to follow what Stasi did all the time: knocking. Even though she didn't want to be caught dead admitting it, I knew she looked up to Stasi, Viktor, and I more often than she let on. "Probably not. We do like our privacy, you know." I walked across the room gingerly, holding my hand out for the soccer ball. Elena handed it over to me, I bounced it in my hands, getting a feel for it. I dropped it onto my good leg, hitting it with my foot towards her outstretched hands. "Are you starting on the team yet?" I asked, once she caught the ball. Elena made a face, scowling at the scratched and weathered surface of the ball. "No. This dumb succubus girl is in front of me. I can't stand her. She's so... urgh. I'm pretty sure that the only reason coach is playing her over me is because she seduced him or something." "Hey, maybe she's actually good." "Well, she's alright." Elena admitted. "I still think i'm better though." "Keep working at it. I'm sure you'll get the starting job over her. I've seen you play soccer since you were in the first grade." "Thanks, big bro." Elena said, happily. "No problem." I said, wrapping my arm around her as we headed downstairs. "What's Viktor been up to?" Chapter 4.5: "Chris, just go with me." Viktor begged, tugging on my hoodie. I looked up from my plastic tub of pasta that I was about to dive into, irked. "Dude, I already brought lunch from home. I don't need to go into the lunch line to get more food." Viktor sighed, sitting back down on the chair next to me and Stasi to try and convince me. "I know that, but can you just come with me, please? Really fast. You don't even have to buy anything! I just don't want to go alone." It was Monday and we were out at lunch. Normally, we would have commandeered one of the tables inside, but since it was a beautiful day out, and with the good relatively warm (by Bay Area standards) weather giving away to frigid cold, we were hoping to take advantage of whatever decent days we had left. We were sitting at one of the many tables that dotted the quad. Well me, Ricky, and Lucy and Stasi were the only ones sitting. Jazz made her own little seat out of her extremely long snake tail. "He's like a girl." Ricky quipped, guffawing. "Girls always want to travel in packs." I looked over at him, smiling. "That's sexist." Jazz muttered, tucking into her homemade sandwich. I couldn't help but snort. Jazz made the best sandwiches... which was ironic since she called out Ricky for being sexist. Not that being sexist had anything to do with anyone's sandwich making ability. We normally would've gone off campus to Jazz's house, who lived the closest to the high school, but Ricky wasn't cleared to go off campus by his family yet, and we didn't want to leave him alone at the school to terrorize the underclassmen and/or the female population. "I can go with you, if you're worried about getting seen in the lunch line on your own." Lucy put in, looking up from her Government textbook. "I know how nervous it must be to purchase food." She said, sardonically. "No... it... um... only Chris will understand. Chris, come on man, do me a solid." Viktor begged. I looked at Stasi, who was eating her food innocently. "Oh, don't mind me." She said. "Just being a quiet and loving girlfriend, who certainly won't sabotage her boyfriend's food when he ditches her to hang out with her little brother." The whole table laughed at that one. I looked up at Viktor, a defeated expression on my face. "You see what I have to deal with? Sorry man, I can't go unless you convince the girlfriend first." I said sadly. Viktor turned to Stasi, a desperate expression on his face. "Anna, please... i'll do..." A smile grew on his face. "Anna, do you remember that time when you shoved a pea-.." He began loudly. "Oi, zakroy yego!" Stasi said sharply in Russian, cutting off Viktor. She turned to me, her face softening. "Fine, you can go." She said to me. "Wait, but I want to hear what he was about to say. You shoved a what, where?" I inquired, playfully. It was a story I was already acquainted with. I couldn't say the same for everyone else. It was about the time when Stasi shoved a peanut up her nose and had to go to the emergency room. It was a certainly a terrifying experience back then, but it was funny to look back on now. "I didn't shove anything, anywhere. Trust me, you don't want to hear what he was going to say." Stasi said, firmly. "Yes, dear." I smiled, giving her a kiss on the lips and making Lucy and Jazz sigh, and making Ricky feign vomiting. "If you say so, be back soon." I capped my container of pasta to make sure the flies didn't get to it before I had my fill, standing up and following Viktor into the canteen. We got a couple of nods, hi fives, and a lot of appraising looks along the way, which I guess was a testament to Viktor's newfound popularity. He shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket, walking at a brisk pace to avoid the stares. We arrived at the crowded canteen, standing at the entrance. There was a lot of people at the school, transferees from all around this area of California, so the canteen was packed and the lunch line was long... extremely long. "Well...we're here." I said. "Are you going to go stand in line?" "Huh?" Viktor asked, looking at me. "Oh... right... yeah, just give me a second." He scanned the crowded cafeteria as if looking for someone, completely ignoring the line. Slightly suspicious, I followed his gaze, leading me to a girl I didn't recognize who was sitting at a booth off to the side, alone, reading a textbook. "You dragged me all this way so you could spy on a girl? Really?" I asked, somewhat amused. "No, dude... not just any girl. I mean, look at her." I squinted, getting a good look at her. She wasn't sitting in the booth, which was strange, she was sitting on the other end of the small table, on what appeared to be a... Oh. "You dragged me all this way so you could look at a girl in a wheelchair?" I asked, confused. "Do you have something against disabled people?" "No, Chris, look at her. Like actually, look at her." He said, emphasizing the word look. I squinted, getting a good look at the girl who was enraptured in her textbook. The girl was brunette with tanned skin and glasses. Even from a distance, I could tell she was pretty. She was wearing a billowy dress, with her fluke poking out at the end. Wait... a fluke? I squinted at the bottom half of her body. The scales of her lower body were a mix between green and blue, attractive to the eye. Yep, this girl was a mermaid. That would explain the wheelchair. A wheelchair was simply the best way for merpeople to get around on land. Since most places were already wheelchair-accessible, that meant they were merpeople accessible. "She's so pretty..." Viktor mumbled, still looking at her wistfully. "What's her name?" I asked. "Her name's Abby, she's in my physics class." "Ok, so you know her name, you have a few classes with her. Go talk to her." I said. Viktor looked at me as if I grew a second head. "Wha-... what? Chris, come on. I can't just go up and talk to her." "Sure you can. See how she's sitting all by herself? That means she's probably bored out of her mind. Just introduce yourself, ask to sit down, and talk to her." Viktor nervously clasped his hands together, something that I realized Stasi did as well when she was nervous. "Look, Vik." I said, grasping him on the shoulder. "What's the worse than can possibly happen? She tells you to go away?" "I don't know, man... it's just... she's on the swim team and i'm not even that good in the water. I don't know if we have anything in common. Maybe she's one of those people who are against interspecies relationships." "Vik, my young apprentice... if there's anything I know about interspecies relationships... it's that they're the best kind of relationships" I said, pushing him forward gently. "You don't have to ask her out on a date right away. Just introduce yourself as a friend, imprint yourself onto her mind. Who knows? The homecoming dance is coming up, maybe you could ask to take her in the future." Viktor swallowed, before nodding. "Alright, thanks Chris." He took a deep breath, before confidently striding across the cafeteria to go meet with the mermaid. I grinned at his back, before turning around and heading out of the cafeteria, back into the open air of the Belcourt High School quad. As I prepared to walk back to the love of my life, my best friends, and my food, I remembered that I forgot something. I made a quick detour to the front office, opening the door and entering the lobby. There were a couple of slime people milling about on the comfy chairs, who waved at me as I entered. I waved back, a wide smile on my face. I walked up to the front desk, looking down at Mrs. Casarano, whose ears perked up as soon as she saw me enter the lobby out of the corner of her eye. "Hi, Mrs. Casarano!" I said, happily. I wasn't sure why I was in such a good mood. "Hello, Chris. Shouldn't you be out at lunch with Anastasia?" She replied, not looking up at me and still focused on what was going on at her computer. "Yes, I should. But Principal Finch told me to check in every Monday with you to collect any paperwork accumulated over the weekend." Everyone thinks that being Class President is an easy job, but at this school, it certainly wasn't. I had to act as the voice of the student body at the weekly staff meetings and I had to handle the budgets, paperwork, and events of the entire body. Stasi and Lucy did what they could to alleviate my load, but it was still stressful. This was only the second week of school too. I was also a pseudo receptionist, since the front office was severely undermanned with Mrs. Casarano. "Um..." Mrs. Casarano finally glanced away from her computer, sifting through the cabinet on her left. "Nothing really... I think there was something with the homecoming dance. Let me look for it." After a moment of digging, she pulled out the manilla folder, handing it over to me. I took it, nodding gratefully. "Thanks. Do you need any help after school with filing?" Mrs. Casarano's tail swished from side to side as she looked at me thoughtfully. "No... not really. You might not even be needed as an office assistant anymore. We're getting a second receptionist." "Oh really? Who?" Mrs. Casarano shrugged. "I'm not an omniscient god. Go ask Principal Finch if you're so curious." Sensing an impending cat-like mood swing, I tucked the folder under my arm. "Maybe later. Thanks again for the folder!" I turned around, leaving the lobby, making sure to wave good bye to the group of slime people. I pushed the door, walking out into the fresh Belcourt High School air, where it seemed like my life was finally picking up. To Be Continued. ***** I'd love to hear from you guys as well, so even if you don't want to be an editor, still shoot me a PM! I'd love to hear any ideas you guys may have or where you want me to take this story. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Author's notes Part 2: Being an avid lover of video games, I put in a reference/Easter Egg dedicated to an upcoming video game. Can anyone guess which one it is? If so, comment down below!

Fili and Kili were most of the way to the stand of trees with the last of the ponies by the time Sara caught up with them. The clump of trees that sheltered the animals was on the riverbank, and Sara had to shout to be heard over the roar of the water. "Fili, Kili!" They stopped just shy of the trees and turned to her, their faces giving away nothing. There was no mischievous glint in their eyes, just flat slightly pained gazes. "Ms. Miller," said Fili. "What do you need?" Not quite sure how to proceed she fidgeted with the zipper on her pants. Fili must have seen her discomfort for he tried again. "Ms. Sara?" She looked up at him and the words seemed to spill from her mouth like water from a dam. "Look, I know the last few days have been hard, and you must think I'm a freak, but if you all go on ignoring me I will go insane." They didn't reply, simply stared back at her in shock and surprise. "It's hard enough being away from home, and not knowing if I'll ever get back. I have no idea why the Aule and Yavanna sent me or if they will ever send me home. I'm traveling with a company of dwarves who hate me. Not only that, we are going to face down a dragon which, quite frankly, terrifies me. I'm cold, wet, miserable, and no one will talk to me. Your uncle never wanted me here. He's been looking for a way to get rid of me ever since that first night. I heard him and Balin talking. Do you have any idea what it's like to travel under that pressure?" Her eyes stung with the unshed tears of anger and frustration, but she stubbornly plowed on, not wanting to give in to the pressure threatening to burst in her chest. "I was only allowed to come because the dwarf king didn't want to lose Gandalf's help. Most of you see me as no more than a burden. But I have nowhere else to go. Now to top it all off, two of the people who were making this whole ordeal remotely less miserable won't even talk to me. I just don't..." Kili lunged forward unexpectedly, startling her, but in a moment he had crushed her to his chest in a bone-breaking embrace. She stood stock-still as he held her to him but slowly her arms came around him and she gripped him back tightly. The sudden comfort broke the dam of resolve and the tears slipped slowly down her cheeks. He held her until she collected herself and then held her at arm's length examining her carefully. "Ms. Miller?" he asked, his eyes searching her face as she wiped the last of the tears away. "Are you angry with us?" She shook her head. "I never was mad at you, except maybe when you wanted to send me away because you thought I was pregnant. I guess I was pretty upset with you all. But, I'm not mad anymore. I just.... I don't want to be alone anymore. I...I have had enough people leave me." "Are you sure you not angry Ms. Miller?" asked Kili. "I will be if you ever call me Ms. Miller again. If I never hear someone call me that again it will be too soon." Kill seemed taken aback for a moment but then grinned. "Very well, Mistress Miller it is." She jabbed him hard in the ribs and he jumped away smiling as he massaged his superficial wound. "I actually missed you calling me that," she confessed sheepishly. "I knew you would warm to it," he said cheekily. She turned to face Fili who had still not said anything. He was gazing at her, his expression unreadable. "Fili I..." "I'm sorry," said Fili cutting over her. "I never meant to make you feel like we didn't want you with us. We assumed you did not desire to not speak to us after the debacle the other night." "Balin said as much," she said, absently rubbing her arm. "Look, can we just forget the last few days ever happened?" In reply he stepped forward and drew her into a hug, squeezing her much more gently than Kili had. "Can you forgive us?" he asked, still holding her close. She nodded, hugging him back. "So long as you never assume I'm pregnant again. Ever!" She said jabbing him in the shoulder. He chuckled and let her go. "I promise," he said. Someone cleared their throat, and the three of them jumped, turning to see Bilbo standing a ways off looking awkward. "Durin's beard!" said Kili. "How long have you been there Mr. Buggins? Silent as the grave you are. We may have a burglar yet." Bilbo flushed and stammered. "Mr. Gandalf has returned. The others sent me to see what is keeping you. You have the baggage pony with the food, and the others wanted to see to dinner, such as it is." "I don't hold much hope for the food," said Kili, wrinkling hai nose as he stepped around to the far side of the pony which stood on the bank of the river. "The rain probably spoiled much of it." "At least it looked as though the rain has stopped, and Mr. Gandalf got the fire going," said Bilbo. "We can dry our clothes and beds and may have a warm supper yet." "I hope so," said Sara, suppressing a shiver. There was a loud squelching sound at the riverbank and a cry of surprise from Kili. They turned to him but froze. Neither Kili nor the pony were where they had been moments before, instead, it was empty space that greeted them. The bank they had been occupying, undercut by the rapid water as it was, had collapsed into the river taking dwarf and pony with it. "Kili!" cried Fili, rushing to the river's edge. Their eyes raked the river but the rushing water gave no sign or hint of Kili. Sara peered over the edge hoping Kili had somehow managed to catch himself on a root, but all that met her eyes was dark damp earth. "There!" shouted Bilbo, pointing. Kili's boot broke the surface not ten yards away. Before anyone could react, Fili dove into the water after his younger brother. "Fili!" cried Bilbo and Sara together, but he was already gone, lost in the churning swell. "Bilbo! Go get the others while I will stay here and do what I can." Bilbo hesitated only a moment and then was gone, running toward the cave. Sara searched the water as she stripped off her rain slicker, coat, and boots. Where were they? After many staggered heartbeats, Fili's head broke the surface. There! But where was Kili? Fili made for the middle of the river where they had last seen Kili. Something was wrong with Fili. He was trying desperately to stay above the surface but being weighed down by his clothes and weapons. Where was Kili? There! He was clinging to the branches of an uprooted tree that had been caught on a cluster of jutting rocks about a hundred yards downstream. Kili struggled to keep his head above the surface of the roiling water and for a heart-stopping moment, she saw him lose his grip. He slipped under for a few seconds but then snagged another branch, this one larger. Fili was still trying to find Kili and Sara shouted, pointing to where Kili was stranded. Still struggling to stay afloat, Fili began to make his way to the tree. Sara seized a long slim rope from one of the ponies and followed the two brothers further downstream. Fili had just about made it to Kili when Sara's blood ran cold. An enormous log was sweeping downriver toward him. "Fili watch out!" she screamed, her voice ringing in her ears. Fili jerked his head up just in time for the log to strike him full in the face and sweep him beneath the surface, rolling him under its weight. Kili screamed, clambering along his branch trying to make his way closer to his brother. Once at the end of the snapped limb he searched the dark water for Fili. The log that had struck Fili rolled once again closer to Kili and his arm darted into the water and miraculously came back with a handful of Fili's tunic fisted in his hand. The log swept by as Kili pulled his brother out of harm's way. Sara gasped in relief, her grimy hands held over her mouth, but then she saw Kilis panic. Fili was limp and it was all Kili could do to wrestle his brother and keep his grip on the tree. "Sara! The rope!" shrieked Kili, frantically. Sara tied one of the ends of the rope around a nearby tree and leaving about twenty feet of rope on the other end, fastened it around her waist. She wrapped the excess around her middle and tucked the end under her belt. Looking upstream to see that there were no logs she took three running steps and lept out over the dark water. Just before she hit the surface she heard Kili yell out her name. The water was glacial and it took all her willpower not to gasp and draw it into her lungs as she fought her way back to the surface. She had jumped in upriver of the two princes knowing that the swift current would carry her quickly. She kicked and swam through the water, fighting the current all the while thanking her grandmother for insisting that she take swimming lessons at a young age. Even so she only just reached Kili before the water could sweep her past. She latched onto the tree branch and began to unwind the extra rope from her midriff. "When I asked for the rope, this is not what I meant," shouted Kili, as he struggled to pin his unconscious brother to the branch. "I can't throw a rope that far, and even if I could, you can't catch a rope while holding Fili. Here tie this around yours and Fili's waists. I will hold him." She hugged Fili to branch as Kili tied them both onto the rope. "What do we do now?" asked Kili. "It simply can't go on," chided Gandalf. "I won't have you ignoring her anymore." "I told you at the start that I intended to ignore her," said Thorin, trying to tamp down his frustration. He shifted uncomfortably, his muscles stiff under his wet clinging clothes. The pinch of hunger had been in his belly since early morning and was unlikely to be filled anytime soon. His furred coat was hung over a rock in the cave dripping dry. He pulled impatiently at the front of his tunic, the fabric sucking to his skin. It had been a long trying day and the last thing he desired was a wizard's chastisement, least of all about that woman. His pride still smacked from the outcome of the argument from three days prior. He had been so sure that he'd found a way to be rid of her but the situation had backfired spectacularly. The resulting three days of silence had been promising however. He had pushed the company harder than he might have otherwise in the hopes that the combination of silence and inclement weather would work together to drive her away. But that had not been the case. She was nothing if not detrmined. Dwalin and even Balin had been oddly cool towards him of late. Dwalin in particular, and Thorin could not help but notice his friends frequent glances back toward the woman as they traveled. Fili and Kili had been downright marrose, bahaving as if someone had died. In general an atitude of misery had settled over the company. And now he and Gandalf stood some distance from the cave entrance. The girl was not in camp and of course the wizard laid the blame at his feet. It's not as if she were in any danger or even truly missing. He had seen her following after his nephews, trailed by the halfling not long after. They had been gone some fifteen minutes but knowing his sister's sons that was not so unusual. They were young and prone to distraction and delay. It was just his luck that Gandalf had returned to the party at that moment to find the girl missing. He had senced this converstion was a few days in coming. "You know as well as I do that this is excessive, even for your kind. Why do you despise her so? What has she ever done to you?" Thorin looked at the wizard blankly. While she was irksome at times and entirely too free with her words and opinions it was not accurate to say he felt contempt for her. Perhaps her presence in his company, but not her personally. She had many admirable qualities and he would have been a poor leader to not have noticed them. He wished her no harm, in fact if given the power he would gladly return her to her home just as she so adamently desired, making them both happy. That was not to say that he had not been truley angry with her at times. Her obstinat words and attitude could be maddening. But in a bizarre way he also thrilled at the fight with her. Few had that gumption. He enjoyed a challenge, and she was certainly that. "I don't despise her." "And dragons are house pets," said Gandalf tonelessly. Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It is the home of my forefathers we strive to reclaim, our people who have been wronged by the dragon. It is the business of dwarves. What could she, a young human female, possibly understand of that? Durin's beard Gandalf, she isn't even from our world. What use is she? What use are we to her? It was enough to include your burglar. He at least has a purpose and can make his own decisions, however misguided by you they are. But she is a different case altogether. She had no choice but to follow you in hopes you will help her return home." "I wish I were able," said Gandalf. "It's not been easy for her." "I am aware of that. Nevertheless, I can't afford to bring someone who has nothing to offer, least of all someone like her. I would not bring a woman of my own kind, fierce as they may be, so why should I bring a human female, especially one as frail as this Ms. Miller? We both know that the wilds are dangerous, let alone the dragon Smaug. I have lost countless people over the years and I'm not eager to include her needlessly in that tally. She is better off safe with her own kind." He was silent for a moment, the wizard watching him with an odd expression. "You truly don't despise her do you?" "Not personally, no. How could I? I know nothing of her." "But that is my point dear friend," said the wizard patiently. "You don't know anything about her. She is entirely different from anyone else you have ever known precisely because she is from another world. She was shaped by circumstances and experiences you yourself will never understand. Who is to say that she will be of no use to your quest or you to hers." "What would you have me do, Gandalf?" asked Thorin, sighing and tugging once again at his wet collar. "She is still a woman, treat her as such." "I have done nothing to her. I apologized for my erroneous assumptions three days past. I can't force the others to speak to her." "You are the king are you not? Perhaps you can't force the others but you can stop ignoring her yourself. You as well as I know there is more than one way to harm someone. I tell you, if she leaves, for any reason, I go with her." "You would truly abandon our quest?" "I would. You seem to forget she was not sent to torment you. Aule and Yavanna will have had their reasons for including her. She has more to offer than you or I imagine. Trust the Valar." Thorin snorted. The Valar. When had they ever taken an interest in him or his people? How many hardships had they endured in his lifetime alone and the Valar had done nothing? Not even Mahal himself. Trust the Valar indeed. He trusted in the steal of his blade and his own will and strenght. He opened his mouth to argue but at that moment the halfling came racing back into camp. Thorin frowned. Something was wrong. The hobbit was alone and there was fear, panic, and desperation in his wide eyes. He rushed to the little fellow. "Mr. Baggins, what..." "The river!" spluttered the hobbit, the words tumbling from his mouth. "Fili and Kili fell in the river!" Panic lanced through Thorin's chest. He had seen the state of the river and knew that if his nephews had fallen in there was little chance... He shook himself and seized the hobbit by the arms. "Where? Where are they?" "They fell in by the ponies. Sara is watching from th..." Thorin was gone before he could hear Bilbo finish the sentence, calling for the others to follow. He tore along the riverbank, searching for any sign of Fili or Kili. He followed their footprints to a place where the riverbank had shorn away into the river. Where were Fili and Kili? Where was Ms. Miller? Nori caught up with him and quickly spotted smaller footprints that had to be the girls, judging by the odd tread. They followed them downriver to just past the ponies until they found her boots in the mud next to her coat. There was no sign of the woman or Fili and Kili. "Where are they?" roared Thorin in frustration, searching the river for a trace of his nephews. "There!" Dwalin pointed to a tree caught in the middle of the raging water. Thorin's heart froze as he searched for them. He could see the three of them midriver clinging to an enormous tree. What in all the forges was the woman doing out there? Was it not enough to have Fili and Kili at risk. If they managed to pull them from the river... "How do we get to them?" asked Nori. "She's a right smart lass, that one," said Bofur, holding a rope in his hands. "Look! She tied one end to the tree and took the other to the lads." The rope indeed trailed off through the water in the direction of the tree. Gandalf came tearing down the riverbank, the hobbit trailing after him. "You must get them out now!" urged the wizard. "The dam of branches caught under the bridge is deteriorating rapidly and will be washed downriver any moment." Dwalin looked to Thorin, his face white. "If that reaches them before we pull them out, we'll lose them for sure!" Dread settled over Thorin and his breath hitched in his lungs, his fingertips numb. No, no no! He could not lose them, not when they were still alive against all odds. "Pull them out!" he bellowed. The company jumped into motion, pulling the rope in hand-over-hand. The trio was jerked from the tree and out into open water but the strain on the rope increased exponentially as the current wrenched its captives further downstream with a relentless fervor. The rope was gripped firmly in Thorin's hands but the ground near the water was slick with mud providing little to no traction. He looked up to see the three disappear under the surface of the water. "Faster!" thundered Dwalin behind him. "They will drown! Mr. Baggins yer needed here. Leave those ponies be!" "One moment," came the hobbits' shaky reply. "I'm almost done." Thorin glared over his shoulder. The burglar was mucking about with the animals and a length of rope. What was he... "There they are," called Nori, drawing his attention back to the river. Three heads broke the surface for a brief moment before vanishing yet again. Thorin strained all the more but his feet only dug deeper ruts in the mucky earth. The bank crumbled into the water in front of him and he ground his teeth as he was dragged further forward, his feet nearing the edge of the bank. The water rushed closer and closer trying to suck him in. "The dam has broken," called Gandalf. Upriver a mass of dark water and limbs roared toward Fili, Kili, and the woman. "Pull for all your worth!" growled Dwalin to the others. Thorin heaved yet again but it was no use. His feet slipped out from under him and he found himself pulled over the edge. The river sucked as his boots, trying to drag him into a watery grave. He clung to the rope trying to scramble back up the sheer muddy bank, but his added weight only dragged the others further forward. "Thorin," cried Dwalin, lunging forward to grab his wrist. Thorin released the rope as Dwalin swung him back onto the bank and in an instant, they were both at the line again plying all their strength to the task. "It must be now, the swell is upon us," cried the wizard. No! He would not allow this. He would not lose his nephews to this river. He could not! "Haw!" cried the hobbit somewhere behind them. "Pull!" The rope suddenly jerked backward in Thorin's hands and he and several others found themselves on their backsides in the muck. Three of the closest ponies had been tied together and attached to the end of the rope. "Pull, pull," urged the hobbit once again, smacking the ponies' rumps, causing the animals to jolt forward. Further from the riverbank, the ground offered greater traction and with the added strength of the ponies, the rope began to recede steadily from the river. Thorin leapt to his feet, pulling at the rope. Even with the added traction of the ponies, it was still a close thing. As first Sara, Kili, and finally Fili were pulled coughing and spluttering from the river a tremendous wave of water and branches roared past. Thorin pulled a muddy Kili into his tight embrace before his nephew had a chance to free himself from the rope. Relief washed through him. Not today. He would not lose kin this day. His consolation was short-lived. "He's not breathing!" shouted Balin, he and Oin bent over Fili. "He has no heartbeat!" Thorin froze. No! Not now! He released Kili and lunged toward Fili, but the girl beat him there. Before anyone could say or do anything she had pushed the others out of the way and clamped her mouth over Fili's. Thorin's mind screeched to a halt. She was kissing him, kissing Fili. Dwalin jerked forward, pulling her away. "Here now lass! What are ya trying to do? Now is hardly..." but he never finished his sentence. The girl twisted in his arms and in an instant Dwalin lay flat on his back in the mud. Almost at once, the woman was at it once more, her lips fastened over Fili's. Thorin lunged toward her, intent on removing this waif from his nephew. "Stay back. I'll flip you too!" she warned, breaking from the kiss, instead pumping Fili's chest with her fists. He was so taken aback by the threat from this spit of a girl that he hesitated. She bent to kiss Fili once again. This was too much. He lunged for her but she saw him coming. One moment she was in his grip and the next he was on his back beside Dwalin. How had she done that? She was so small yet she had put him on his back effortlessly. Rising he could see that once again her lips were on Fili's. "Lass?" said Balin, approaching her slowly, his hands raised. "What are you doing?" She moved to pump Fili's chest a second time. "C...P...R," she said between presses. "And what is that?" asked Balin. "A rescue technique... to save someone... who's not breathing... or whose heart... has stopped." She stopped and pressed an ear to Fili's chest. "But it's not working." "What do you need?" asked Balin, moving closer. Thorin drew near, wary of the distance between him and the woman. What was this technique she spoke of? "I don't think I'm pressing hard enough. I can't seem to reach his heart." "How is it done?" asked Balin. "Assuming your anatomy is not different from mine, put your hands together on top of one another and center them on his sternum. You have to press hard enough to reach his heart," she instructed. Balin moved forward but Thorin was their first. "Like this?" he asked, his hands already on Fili's chest. She nodded. "Now push in time to your own heart." He pushed, easily keeping time with the pulse pounding in his ears. "He may have cracked ribs but that's better than the alternative." He didn't respond, concentrating on his heartbeat. "Gandalf?" she called. The wizard appeared at their side. "If this doesn't work, can you give him a small shock?" "I can." She turned back to him. "Good now stop" she instructed. He did as told and she lowered her mouth to Fili's. This time he could see Fili's chest rise and expand. She was not kissing him at all but filling his lungs with air. Why had he assumed... She did this once more and then nodded to him. "Again!" He pumped in time with his heart, but nothing was happening. His frustration grew with each ineffective compression and he was tempted to quit but the earnest fervor on the woman's face spurred him forward. They swapped roles three times more, each time his hope diminishing further. Just as it was almost her turn again water and vomit spewed from Fili's mouth. He coughed and sputtered as he rolled onto his side, gasping for air. Thorin's heart leapt into his throat. It had worked! The crazy woman's technique had worked. Fili was alive once again. He would not lose a sister son this day. The woman, Ms. Miller, heaved a sigh of relief and backed away, letting Oin and the others forward to tend to Fili. Kili leapt for his brother who winced in his rough embrace. "What... what happened?" asked Fili between coughs from over his brother's shoulder. "You jumped in to save me but got yourself knocked unconscious you muttonhead," said Kili. "I caught you but we were stranded on that tree." He pointed to the tree which was no longer there. "Well, there was a tree." Kili let go of his brother and seized the woman's arm dragging her forward again. "Sara jumped in after us with a rope, and just as we all got tied on uncle and the company showed up and pulled us out." Fili stifled another cough. "Let it all up lad," said Oin. "Why do I feel like you danced a jig on my chest?" Fili winced, rubbing his chest as he moved to stand. Thorin reached out to steady him and grasped his nephew behind the head, touched his forehead to Fili's gently. "When we pulled you from the river there was no life in you. Ms. Miller brought you back to us." Fili looked to the woman who flushed. "She kissed you," said Kili in a mock whisper. "That was not a kiss!" she said, her ears pink. "Aye lad, she did. Multiple times," said Bofur. The toymaker dodged as a handful of mud sailed past his ear and hit Bilbo square in the face. The hobbit spluttered and spit muck from his mouth. "I did not kiss him!" She lobbed another handful of mud but Bofur just ducked. "Never thought I would see the day that Snow White kissed a dwarf prince back to life. Ya lucky scamp." Bofur winked at Fili who was also pink in the cheeks. His nephew's eyes flitted between Ms. Miller, Bofur, and himself. "It was not a kiss," assured Thorin. "She was very insistent though," said Kili, glancing at him with a mischievous glint in his eye. "She laid both Dwalin and uncle out in the mud on their backs when they tried to stop her," said Kili. Thorin cuffed him. "Enough." "Seems there is more to our Ms. Sara than any of you suspected," said Gandalf, watching Thorin with a piercing gaze." Thorin groaned internally, taking the wizard's point. But as he swung to face her he reconsidered. There she sat, sopping wet, covered head to toe in muck and grime. She was small for a human, short and slight of frame, especially when compared to present company. She shivered in the cold air. Her left sock was missing and there was a gash on her leg, red blood oozing down to mix with the mud at her feet. She winced as she straightened, holding her stomach with an arm. She had been injured while saving Fili and Kili. Yet she had. This woman had recklessly jumped into the river and... "Ms. Miller," he called. She looked at him wrinkling her nose. Kili whispered in his ear, "She doesn't like being called that." Thorin sighed. "Ms. Sara then." "Yes?" she asked apprehensively, looking up at him. He extended a hand to her. After a moment's hesitation she took it and he gently helped her to her feet not yet releasing her hand. "I find myself in the unenviable position of needing to apologize, something I am not often forced to do and I seek your forgiveness. I have made many false assumptions and said things that have wounded you. Yet despite all, you have made no complaint even when I made every effort to place obstacles in your way. You have borne all with grace and patience, only seeking to help those around you. You have set your life as not, as you restored my sister's son's to me, Fili twice over." He reached out to grasp Fili's shoulder. "I make no excuse for my behavior up to this point. I only beg your forgiveness, for me, and for my company." He forced himself to one knee, his head bowed, his forehead touching the back of her hand waiting for her reply. She didn't speak, frozen for the longest moment. "On two conditions," she said. He looked into her weary face releasing her hand though he did not stand. "No one calls me Ms. Miller ever again. I prefer just Sara, Ms. Sara if you must." He nodded. "Ms. Sara from now on. And your second condition?" She grimaced. "No one assumes I'm pregnant ever again." He couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him. "Agreed." "Then get off your knee," she said, gripping his elbow and pulling him up. "It not natural to see you from that angle." "It's not one I prefer." She stuck out her hand to him as if asking for something. "Truce? Are we good?" He didn't move. "I still think your interests would be better served elsewhere. You would be safer with you own kind, but I will no longer seek to be rid of you." "Good enough," she said seizing his hand and shaking it. "This is all very well and good, but can we now return to the fire now please?" piped up Bilbo, who was shaking like a leaf where he stood, mud still smeared across his face. "Yes please!" said Ms. Sara, through chattering teeth. "Let's go," called Thorin. "Bifur and Bofur take the ponies back." The others began to stomp back toward the cave. "I found your boots and coat, Ms. Sara," said Ori, stepping forward and offering them to her. "But I'm afraid they are quite dirty and wet." "That's okay, I'm pretty dirty and missing a sock anyways." She looked down at the gash running from her heel to the back of her calf as if only just noticing it. "Looks like a tree branch wanted my sock and was willing to fight for it." She transferred her weight to one foot, grimacing. Thorin stepped forward to steady her but before he could reach her Dwalin scooped her up in his arms. "Let's get ya cleaned up and warm lass," said Dwalin to the girl in his arms. She struggled at first, her face screwed up in pain. "Dwalin," he chided, watching them out of the corner of his eye as he turned to help Fili to camp. "Be gentle with her. Her ribs are likely injured from the rope." "Sorry lass," said Dwalin softly, readjusting his grip on her. Her face eased and she relaxed into his arms more readily. "It's alright." She peaked over Dwalin's shoulder, her eyes sliding over Thorin and then to Fili. "Are you really okay?" she asked. Fili waved a hand as he coughed again. "I'll be fine," he assured. "Let's get ya to Oin," said Dwalin. "The faster ya are recovered, the faster ya can show me that fancy trick of yers for laying dwarves out on their back." She grinned. "Alright, Mr. Dwalin." "Dwalin lass. No one who has thrown me like that calls me Mr." Sometime later Thorin sat in the shadow of the rock, watching Ms. Sara as he nursed his bowl of tepid stew. She sat between Fili and Kili, the firelight dancing over her face as they talked and laughed. Oin had looked over the three properly upon their return to camp. Kili as it turned out was no worse for the wear, if not a little cleaner for his dip in the water. Fili would be tender in the chest for a few days and had a dark bruise on his cheekbone where the branch had struck him, but was well enough, save his occasional cough. Ms. Sara was not so lucky. Thorin had glimpsed the angry bruising around her middle where the rope had dug into her skin as Oin tended to her. The gash down her left calf was not especially deep but while she would recover, wearing a boot for the next few days would be unpleasant and Oin advised against it where possible. Thorin stirred his stew absently as he listened in to their conversation. "How is it that you two got off without any bruising, while I'm going to look like a patchwork quilt?" she complained, rubbing at her ribs. "I guess dwarves are just made denser than humans, Mistress Miller," said Kili gloating. She snickered. Thorin shook his head at his nephew's inept word choice. To think he had a hand in raising such a lackwit. "You said it, not me," quipped Sara. Dwalin and Balan who were sitting close by chuckled. Kili scowled, understanding breaking over him too late like an egg on his forehead. "Hey! That's not what I meant." Sara laughed harder, then winced. "Ow." "Just shut up before you make it worse," said Fili, smacking the back of Kili's head. The hobbit made his way over to them and sat nearby, fidgeting with the buttons on his vest. "Are you sure you are ok Ms. Sara?" asked the hobbit. "Yes Bilbo," she assured patiently. "I told you, I will be just fine. Don't worry." "I can't help but feel it's my fault you were injured." The hobbit's eyes were on his toes. "Don't be silly. Thorin told us if it weren't for your quick thinking we would have been lost. You are a hero." Thorin's eyes slid to her. When had he said that? "He did?" asked the hobbit looking up, his eyes a bit brighter. "He did." They talked for a few more minutes before Mr. Baggins returned to help Bombur clean up from dinner. Fili eyed the women beside him, an eyebrow raised. "When did uncle say that about Bilbo?" Ms. Sara flushed in the firelight. "Ok, so maybe he didn't say it exactly that, but he did say it was Bilbo's idea. I just figured Bilbo could use a boost. He looked so glum." Thorin shook his head, but somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn't help but agree. The hobbit had been rather quick-witted. Later that night Thorin found the trio leaning against each other, asleep, a large rock at their backs. Fili and Kili each held one of Ms. Sara's arms wrapped in theirs. Kili's head drooped onto her shoulder, her head resting atop his. Fili's head rested against the rock but his face was turned toward her as well. Thorin sighed. He supposed it was only right that Fili and Kili show their appreciation, but still... Despite the princes at either side of her, Ms. Sara shivered in her sleep. There were bumps on her arms and her lips pulled down into a frown. Thorin glanced around him before shucking off his coat which had finally dried near the fire. Trying not to think about it too much he draped it over the trio. As he passed Dwalin, who was on watch, the warrior raised an eyebrow, a smirk smeared across his lips. Thorin ignored him.

Sleeping in separate rooms had definitely taken some getting used to. The first night, Katsuki had laid awake for hours. He’d thought the silence and lack of snoring would be nice, but apparently the noise had become like a fucking lullaby or something, and now he couldn’t get any damn sleep without it. So the next day after school he’d dragged Deku with him to the store and gotten a white noise machine, while Deku had gotten *another* All Might blanket, complaining that the room was too cold without Katsuki. As if Katsuki’s presence on the complete opposite side of the room affected the room’s temperature that much. Over time, though, they’d both adjusted. They were still always together, really. They just slept and sometimes changed clothes in different rooms. That was all. Still felt weird, though. And now it was their first day at UA. “Kacchan! Do you know where my pencil case is?” Deku skidded into Katsuki’s room, a new backpack slung over his shoulder with the old Eraserhead keychain already attached. Katsuki’s eyebrow twitched. Shitty nerd had been like this all morning. “What the fuck, Deku? Keep track of your damn shit. You left it by the computer last night.” “Right!” Deku sped out of the room. Katsuki rolled his eyes and made sure everything was in his own bag, then zipped it up. He’d just slung it over his shoulder when Deku stormed back in. “I haven’t forgotten something have I? Kacchan, where’s the instruction letter they sent us? I just need to check—” “Tch.” Katsuki stepped closer to Deku, grabbing his tie. The nerd stopped talking, eyes wide. “You got everything, alright? We sent the costume forms and shit to them two weeks ago, and you’ve fucking triple checked everything else. Now, learn to tie a damn tie, you dumbass.” Katsuki straightened the knot and pulled it tight before tucking the end into Deku’s blazer. He looked up, only then realizing how close they were. Shit. He avoided eye contact with his soulmate and quickly turned toward the door. “Come on, you shitty nerd, we don’t want to be late.” “Kacchan, you’re not even wearing your tie! You shouldn’t scold me about mine!” “Who the fuck cares.” Katsuki shoved open the door to his bedroom, heading down the stairs, Deku following behind him. “If you don’t care, why does mine have to be straight?” “Because otherwise it just screams that you’re a useless dumbass that can’t do shit.” “Kacchan! It wasn’t that bad.” Katsuki rolled his eyes and grabbed his bento off the counter. “It fucking was.” “Katsu-kun, must you go like that?” Auntie was standing by the door, wringing her fingers. “At least tuck your shirt in.” Katsuki groaned, but did as she asked. For now. Apparently his parents had already had to leave for work, so it was just Auntie this morning. She looked nervously between the two of them. “I’m so excited for both of you!” Katsuki yelped as she pulled them into a hug. Just as suddenly, she released them, one hand staying on each of their shoulders. “You’ve both grown up so much!” Shit. Auntie was sniffling. Please let there not be any fucking tears. A glance to the side showed Deku was tearing up, too. Fucking Midoriyas and their damn excessive tears. “Thanks, Auntie, but we really should get going.” “Of course, of course!” she released them and began to wipe at her eyes while they knelt down to put on their shoes. “It’s just, you both look so cool, you know? I’m so proud of you both, getting into your dream highschool like this.” Katsuki stood up, Deku straightening beside him. “We really made it, Mom.” Deku had a sheepish smile on as he scratched at his cheek. Katsuki smirked, shoving his soulmate’s shoulder, “Of course we made it! We’re going to become the best damn heroes the world’s ever seen.” Auntie smiled and shook her head. “I don’t doubt it.” She patted their shoulders once more, then stepped to the side and opened the door. “Go on then, you too. Don’t let me keep you.” Katsuki grinned, stepping out the door, “We’ll do you proud, Auntie!” “Bye Mom!” “Have a good day, you two! I can’t wait to hear all about it! We’re having a family dinner tonight, remember!” “We remember!” Deku walked backwards a few steps, waving goodbye. Katsuki wrinkled his nose. The dinner he could fucking do without, but he was stuck with nosey assholes as parents. “C’mon, Deku, we don’t want to miss our train.” “Of course, Kacchan!” Katsuki untucked his shirt once more and rolled his eyes as Deku immediately began his muttering, going through the list of supplies to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, then speculating about who their homeroom teacher would be and what their classmates would be like and whether they would be able to actually make friends at this school. Katsuki let the nerd ramble—at least this way he didn’t have to act like he cared about it. Whoever their classmates were, they’d crush them. It was as simple as that. Once they arrived at UA, though, Katsuki couldn’t deny that he was excited. Deku was practically vibrating next to him, so he grabbed the nerd’s arm to make sure he didn’t wander off. His wrist felt warm. Soothing. It was a nice reminder that he wasn’t alone, even if Katsuki knew that he could crush everyone even if he was on his own. “Kacchan, we’re… we’re going to tell our homeroom teacher, right?” Fuck. “Don’t talk about that shit out loud, Deku.” He took a left, following the signs in the hallway to reach their classroom. “It’s just… Recovery Girl said… but we never actually agreed on what day or anything, but sooner would be better, right? Who knows what kinds of things they plan for the first few days. But we should probably wait until after the assembly right? Or until after we’ve introduced ourselves to the class? It would be weird if we told our teacher before we’d even done introductions—” “We’ll do it at lunch, alright? Just shut the fuck up about it, already.” “Ok, Kacchan!” Deku gave him a nervous grin, “Sorry.” “Whatever, you nerd. Now come on, that’s our damn door.” He pointed down the hallway to where a huge door labeled 1A stood. They sure had made it fucking hard to miss. “Eep.” Deku stared at the towering door in shock. “I wonder if it’s so big to accommodate different mutation quirks, maybe? Or—” “Whatever.” Katsuki rolled his eyes and dragged his soulmate toward it. “Let’s just get this shit over with.” He took a deep breath, then released Deku’s wrist to push the door open. A quick glance showed they were some of the first ones there. A boy with hair that was half red and half white sat in the back right, a girl with a ponytail next to him. Then there was Shitface Robot with his square glasses from the exam, a guy with shitty hair, a guy with a tail, a frog girl, and a bird head. Katsuki shrugged and went for an empty desk toward the front and next to a window, with Deku sliding into the desk behind his, like always. He leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up on the desk and tilted his head backwards, “Oi, Deku. Don’t—” “Excuse me!” Katsuki glared at Shitface. Dumbass was making those weird as fuck hand gestures, too. Why was he such a fucking robot? “What?!” “You should remove your feet from the desk immediately. What you are doing is highly disrespectful to this institution and to all the students who have come before us!” “What the fuck are you on, you dumbass?” He paused, scoffing at Shitface. “Then again, you obviously went to some shitty preppy school, so you probably know nothing about that kind of thing.” Deku sighed behind him, muttering under his breath, “It’s not like you do, either.” Katsuki decided not to respond to that. “I went to Somei—” “Fucking knew it.” “Hey, guys.” Shitty Hair was walking toward them, waving his hands apologetically, “It’s the first day of school. Maybe we could take it easy and get to know each other before, you know, yelling at each other?” “Fuck off, Shitty Hair.” Katsuki glared at Shitty Hair. Dumbass should mind his own business. Then Deku started to whine, “Kacchan! Please don’t go making enemies on the first day again!” Katsuki knew the shitty nerd wanted friends, but he couldn’t believe his soulmate was actually whining. “Again?!” Shitty Hair stared at them incredulously. Katsuki decided to ignore him. “You wanna be friends with this Shitface, Deku?” Katsuki tilted his head back to stare at his soulmate incredulously, “He made fun of you at the fucking exams!” Shitface bowed toward Deku, “I must admit, I misjudged you, Midoriya, and I apologize for that. Your actions in the practical exam were highly befitting of a hero.” He straightened. Deku started blushing like crazy. It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t. Shitface continued, “However, if you continue to associate with such a hooligan—” “Huh?! You wanna say that again, you bastard?” “Kacchan, please!” “I’m not gonna let some preppy asshole just stand there and insult me!” Katsuki glared at Shitface, hands beginning to spark. “Kacchan!” “Woah, there!” Shitty Hair stepped between Katsuki and Shitface, his body… hardening? That was annoying as fuck. “Oh! That curly hair! You’re the boy that saved me during the exams!” A new girl came bounding toward them, completely ignoring the tension between the four boys. “Thank you so much! I’m so glad we’re in the same class!” She smiled brightly. Deku fucking beamed. Of course the shitty nerd would. A girl seemed to want to be his lameass friend. Katsuki glared at her. He really didn’t like this. Why the fuck did she think she could be all friendly with his soulmate? “I’m glad we’re in the same class, too!” Nerd’s voice was all high-pitched like when he was nervous. Fuck. Deku wanted shitty friends. “If you’re here to socialize, you’re in the wrong place.” Katsuki blinked as a sleepingbag inched its way into the classroom. His eyes widened as a man stood up and stepped out. Black hair. Bloodshot eyes. Black clothes. A perpetually exhausted expression. And to top it all off, a grey capture weapon draped across his shoulders. “Eraserhead.” Deku gasped the name in shock, while Katsuki stared at his soulmate’s favorite hero. They’d both know him anywhere--after all, they’d watched the few existing videos thousands of times, trying to break down the man’s fighting style to find something to help Deku. Eraserhead blinked at them. “Not many recognize me, but yes. I’m Aizawa Shouta, hero name, Eraserhead. I’ll be your homeroom teacher.” Katsuki didn’t even have to look behind him to know Deku was vibrating with excitement and disbelief at that statement. All those hours trying to learn from videos, and now the real deal was in front of them. It was like meeting All Might all over again. Even if Deku had a quirk, now, that wouldn’t change the fact that this man’s fighting style had given him hope for years and years. Eraserhead slouched through the room, bending down behind the teacher’s desk to pick something up, and then dropping a stack of gym uniforms on top of it. “Go put these on and meet me on the baseball pitch behind the building. The locker rooms are down the hall.” Then, just as abruptly as the man had appeared, he trudged out of the room. The hero looked even more damn exhausted in person than in the videos. The desk was a fucking mess by the time they reached it, but each uniform had a name pinned to it, so it was easy to figure out which ones were theirs. Katsuki tossed Deku’s at the nerd, and the two headed to the changing rooms. Katsuki was glad that even though heroes in general sucked at fashion, whoever was in charge of the UA gym uniforms could actually do a passable job. They were quick to change and head outside, beating many of the shitty extras. Thankfully the dumbasses didn’t take too long, and soon they were all assembled, waiting for Eraserhead to give them more instructions. First, though, the hero started rambling about the educational system being shitty and how they couldn’t waste time if they were going to be heroes, so he was going to have them do some new kind of physical apprehension tests. Katsuki frowned. He and Deku had always been top of the class with those. He was sure they’d manage it again, but it might be harder this time. They were at UA, now, after all. “Bakugou.” Katsuki raised one eyebrow as the teacher turned to him, “You scored the top in the practice exam, correct?” “Yeah.” “What was your best record on a ball throw in middle school?” “67 meters.” The best in the fucking school. Eraserhead tossed him a ball. “Try doing it with your quirk.” Katsuki caught the ball with ease. It was some high-tech shit, but he couldn’t tell what was special about it. “Go stand in the circle and use your quirk to throw the ball as far as you possibly can.” With his quirk? A slow smirk formed across his face. Hell yeah! Katsuki stalked to the circle, tossing the ball up and down to get a feel for how heavy it was. It would be fucking child’s play to use a blast and propel it. He set his legs wide, cocked his arm back, and set off the biggest explosion he could that wouldn’t destroy the thing. “Die!!” He ignored Deku’s groan behind him and grinned as the ball flew out of eyesight. “Know your own maximum, first. That’s the way to set a strong foundation for being a hero.” Katsuki looked back at their teacher as a beep came from the device in his hands. “709.6 meters.” Fuck yeah. The extras were all abuzz, talking about how the tests were going to be fun. Then Eraserhead grinned, and Katsuki was beginning to understand what Deku meant when he said Katsuki’s grins looked evil. “Fun, huh? Will you be able to keep that attitude for all three years here?” His grin widened and Katsuki pushed down the urge to shudder. He would not give their teacher that kind of reaction. “Alright, then. Let’s up the stakes. The person who scores last place overall will be judged to have no potential and be expelled immediately.” Shit. Katsuki would be fine, but Deku… Katsuki could already tell Deku was freaking out, looking down at his hands with utter despair written across his face. He sighed and trudged back over to his spot, then whacked his soulmate on the back of the head. “Calm the fuck down and just focus, you shitty nerd.” It wasn’t like he couldn’t control it at all. He just had to make sure he focused and only used 3%. As long as he did that, the nerd would be fine. “Right!” Deku grinned at him sheepishly. “You’re right, Kacchan. As always.” “Hell yes, I am. So stop fucking worrying.” Deku nodded, determination now gleaming in his eyes. That was more like it. Shitty nerd, always losing confidence like that. He was Katsuki’s soulmate—his equal. There was no fucking way he would be expelled. Eraserhead spoke again, silencing all the whispers around them. “UA is known for its unorthodox approaches to hero training. A lot of that comes from the fact that the teachers are given free reign to train our students however we see fit. That begins today.” He pushed his hair back, grinning at them with wide eyes. “Welcome to the UA hero course.” Katsuki smirked back. He would fucking kill this test. Nothing could beat him. And now that Deku had a quirk, they would be even more unstoppable than before. Round Face raised a big fuss about how the whole thing was unfair, but Eraserhead shut her down, talking about calamities and how the life of a hero was always dealing with unfair circumstances. Katsuki grinned. Dealing with those circumstances and then winning. Katsuki would overcome them, alright. And so would Deku. Just like they’d beaten that damn villain. This school was the fucking best. The first test was going to be a 50 meter dash, which should be a piece of cake for both of them. His explosions would increase his own speed, and Deku could increase his speed with his 3%. Katsuki scowled as Square Glasses crossed the finish line. Fuck. He couldn’t beat that score. Fucking test was made for the shitty extra and his speed quirk. He’d beat everyone else, though. Katsuki lined up next to Deku, throwing the nerd a smirk. “Die, Deku.” The nerd fucking smirked. “I’ve beaten you before, Kacchan.” Oh, the nerd was dead. His palms crackled as the countdown sounded. At the final beep, his palms exploded, sending him flying forward, but he could already tell Deku was slightly ahead. Fuck that! He poured more power into it, shooting across the line, but he lost his balance a bit, and was forced to tuck his head and roll to a stop. He jumped up immediately, glaring at Deku, who was laughing at him. “Shut up, you shitty nerd! I beat you, didn’t I?!” “You did, Kacchan, by like .05 seconds. But I stayed on my feet.” “I still beat you!” “Uh-huh.” “Would you both move so the next pair can go.” Their teacher’s voice sounded annoyed. “O-Of course!” Deku immediately ran out of the way. Katsuki trudged after him. “Whatever.” It’s not like any of the extras could get a higher score, anyway. Katsuki stood to the side, letting Deku’s rambles about their classmates’ quirks wash over him. Suddenly, the air got colder. Katsuki frowned, looking toward the starting line. It was that stupid Half and Half bastard. The buzzer sounded, and ice immediately spread across the ground, the guy speed skating down the path. Fuck. 3.9 seconds. .1 second better than him and Deku. He glared at the other boy. The boy that didn’t even have a speed quirk. “Tch.” He was so dead. “Umm…” Deku was fidgeting uneasily next to him. “We’ll beat him in the next test, right, Kacchan? And the top one overall?” “Fuck that shit. We’re going to be at the top in a way that will make sure no one can argue that we’re the best.” “Right!” Deku’s voice was high and nervous again. The next test was grip strength. Katsuki gave it everything he had, but Deku fucking beat him hands down. He glared at the nerd, who laughed nervously. “You should’ve been able to beat that fucking guy!” He pointed at the six-armed lameass. Deku scratched at the back of his head, “But I haven’t practiced gripping things with my quirk! And I have to be careful not to do too much! Then I would fail the rest of the tests!” “Tch.” Katsuki glared at the leader board for this test. Deku had come in third, with Arm Fucker and Sugar Asshole ahead of him, but there was at least a big gap between them and everyone else. Not that the damn gaps mattered in the overall leader board. In the long jump, half and half fucking used some ice pillar shit to carry him across the pit. Katsuki beat him by flying with his explosions, but he got the impression that it was only because the bastard had stopped making the ice grow out of boredom. What the fuck?! Who just stopped like that?? He wanted to go give the bastard a piece of his mind, but Deku’s hand was firmly wrapped around his wrist, quirk activated. Katsuki growled in frustration. The shitty nerd had been in the middle of the pack, this time, again mumbling about not being sure how to do a long jump. Fuck this test. He was going to have All Might running Deku through drills on all of this until he could do each one at 3%, then they’d see how the nerd reallyscored. Fucking grape boy came out of nowhere to win the side-steps, but Deku got second on that one, used to jumping back and forth in the sand. Katsuki glared at the two lines on the ground. There had to be some way to use explosions to improve that score, but fuck it, he couldn’t think of anything. Plus the shitty nerd was being silent, so he hadn’t thought of anything yet, either. When they got to the ball throw again, Katsuki was sure he would at least win this one, but fucking hell. Round Face had to go and throw the ball to fucking infinity. Damn it all to hell, but how was he supposed to fucking beat that?! Katsuki ground his teeth in frustration. The Half and Half bastard had used his ice to build up his own momentum before throwing the ball, sending it further than most, though nowhere near Katsuki’s throw. Lameass. Then Katsuki noticed that Deku was fidgeting. Fidgeting a lot. “What the hell, nerd? You’re doing well, why are you all antsy?” “I know, Kacchan, but I… I’m nowhere near where you are. I won’t be last, right? I mean, most people have good scores in some events, but I haven’t gotten first in anything, and I only got second once, and I haven’t done well in some things… I shouldn’t do full power, I know that but maybe 50%—” “Don’t you fucking dare, you shitty nerd.” Katsuki glared at him, “I’m not carrying you to the damn infirmary on the first day of school, again. You want Auntie to cry?” “Kacchan! Mom wouldn’t have to know!” “I’ll tell her, so she’ll know.” “Kacchan! I just want to do my best!” “Then don’t break your fucking arm, nerd! You’ll need to do well on the other tests! Stop worrying yourself to death and fucking throw the ball with what you can actually fucking manage!” “Is there a problem?” They both froze. The entire class was staring at them both, including Eraserhead, whose scarf was floating lazily around him. Shit. Katsuki knew the threat that action held. That cloth was made of some fucking alloy that could bind them up faster than either one of them could move. One glance was all it took to know that Deku had shut down under the attention. Katsuki sighed, “No, we’re good.” He glanced pointedly at his soulmate, “Right, Deku?” “Eep!” Deku jumped. “Right! Of course, Kacchan! You’re right.” “Good, you shitty nerd.” The scarf still hadn’t settled. Eraserhead was staring at his soulmate pensively. “I saw your performance at the entrance exams. You were doing well, but at the end, you destroyed your arms and legs in order to save a fellow examinee.” The hero cocked his head to the side, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have been thinking of doing that again, right?” “N-no, s-sir.” Katsuki groaned. Deku never could lie to save his life, so it was no surprise that he couldn’t lie to his fucking hero. The dangerous grin was back. “Good. Because self-sacrificial moves like that just leave you as a burden to your fellow heroes or leave you dead on the battlefield if no one can rescue you in time. The last thing you need is to make yourself into another body that needs rescuing. Got that, kid?” Deku nodded nervously, biting his lip. Katsuki was torn. Part of him wanted to yell at the teacher for talking to Deku like that (who the FUCK did he think he was?) but part of him agreed with everything the man had said. Hell, he’d been trying to drill that lesson into Deku’s damn thick skull for years, but the nerd loved all that self-sacrificing shit. Katsuki warily watched Deku take the ball to the circle and bounce it in his palm. He really didn’t like the look of determination Deku was wearing. Like he was out to prove someone wrong. Shit. The ball flew through the air. Deku’s arm was fine. But his finger wasn’t. Shit, shit, shit. “What the fuck, Deku?! I told you not to do that!” Katsuki charged forward, palms sparking, only to feel their teacher’s scarf wrap around him. He struggled against it, fighting to get closer to his soulmate and knock sense into his skull. Deku grinned at both of them, his face tight from pain. He clenched his fist, ignoring the broken (but thankfully not fucking mangled) finger. “I’m still standing. I can still fight.” “Fuck you, you shitty nerd!” “Bakugou! Calm down, this instant!” Shit. He froze, relieved when the weapon retreated after a few seconds. Their teacher shook his head, “Good job finding a way around your quirk, but you still need better control of it. 357.2 meters.” Katsuki glared at the ground as he returned to his spot, refusing to look at his soulmate when Deku nervously approached him. “I’m not taking you to the nurse’s office. You can explain this shit to Recovery Girl yourself.” Deku paled. “But Kacchan, you always come with me!” “No one’ll bully you here, though, Deku. Right?” “But Recovery Girl’s going to be mad at me!” “You should’ve fucking thought of that beforehand, you piece of shit.” Katsuki glared at him, then sighed. “I won’t tell Auntie, though. You didn’t use your full power, after all, and it was just your damn finger. But I’m not doing it for you! I just don’t want to see her cry, alright?” Deku’s arms roped around him, “Thanks, Kacchan!” “Get off, you shitty nerd!” Katsuki shoved him back with a glare. “And if you pull any shit like this again, I’m fucking telling her everything, you got that?!” “Ok, Kacchan!” Deku was grinning again. Fucking loser had a ridiculously high pain tolerance. Katsuki rolled his eyes as Round Face nervously asked if the nerd’s finger was ok and the dumbass stuttered out a reply. The long distance run was next. Katsuki grinned as they all lined up on a track. He would kill the half and half bastard. Except, he didn’t. Katsuki’s palms sparked in frustration. This was fucking ridiculous! He glared at the other boy. Square Glasses had a fucking speed quirk that apparently got even better with distance, so Katsuki could understand losing to him. He hated it, but he could understand it. And it was just the fucking races, Katsuki had beaten him in everything else. He’d kept track. Half and Half, though… He growled. Deku’s uninjured hand wrapped around his wrist. He was going to fucking kill that bastard, one way or another. Katsuki and Deku would be the best two in the class. In the seated toe touch, though, the bastard was more flexible. And then they tied—fucking tied!—with sit ups. And then Eraserhead displayed the overall leader board. “Kacchan, it’s ok, we’re here to become the best, right? If we already were the best, that would just mean that we came to the wrong school, right? We need something to challenge us?” Fuck this shit. Second. He’d come in fucking second to that bastard half and half!! Deku came in sixth, but the shitty nerd didn’t have full control of his quirk, yet, so that was fucking understandable. Katsuki had been training this quirk his whole life, though! He should be better than fucking Half and Half! He stood there, fuming and glaring at the ground while Eraserhead rambled about the damn results. “Kacchan?” “What?!” “We’re all going to change before lunch, Kacchan.” There was an awkward pause before Deku continued, “Mineta came in last. Sensei said he’d give him another chance, though. He’ll spar against a general studies student tomorrow morning, and if he wins he can stay, but if he loses he’ll switch classes with the general studies student.” Katsuki didn’t know who the fuck that was. “I don’t fucking care about that. If he was last, and especially if he loses to some shitty gen ed student, then he damn well deserves it.” He looked around. Their classmates were already a few steps ahead of them, heading back toward the changing rooms. “Right.” Deku rubbed his arm nervously. “Well, umm, we should maybe talk to sensei now? While the others are heading inside?” Katsuki glanced over to where the hero was picking up gear. He sighed. He still didn’t know what to think about Eraserhead, but Recovery Girl would be mad enough at Deku for needing to be healed, they didn’t need to make things worse by not having told their teacher about the bond, yet. “Fine. Let’s get this shit over with.” “Um… Sensei?” Deku was fiddling with the hem of his sleeve, not even looking at their instructor. “Could we talk to you, um… privately?” Katsuki slouched next to him, letting his soulmate do the talking. He wanted nothing to do with this shit. Eraserhead just turned around and raised an eyebrow. Deku bit his lip. “Recovery Girl told us that we needed to tell you something, but we’d prefer to do that in private. If you don’t mind? I know it’s an inconvenience, but it really is important, and I don’t want to disappoint Recovery Girl, especially after she’s been so nice about the whole thing, but I know it’s lunch break and--” “Midoriya. Stop.” Deku’s voice halted and he froze in one spot. Eraserhead’s eyes darted between the two of them, then he put down the cone he’d been holding and sighed. He nodded past them to where their classmates were already a good way off. “This private enough?” Deku shrugged nervously. “No one can fucking hear us, right?” Eraserhead frowned at Katsuki, “Were you even paying attention to your classmates’ quirks?” “Hell no.” “Kacchan!” Deku looked at him, completely scandalized. “Why would I? If something’s important enough, you’ll tell me.” “You’ll need to learn to gather information without Midoriya.” Eraserhead’s eyes flickered back to their classmates. “Your classmates have some quirks that increase their hearing abilities, but they’re all inside, now, so you should be fine.” He shrugged, “If you’re worried, talk quietly and you’ll definitely be fine.” Deku fidgeted, “What if they are trying to listen in or something??” “We’re roughly 100 meters away from the door.” Eraserhead raised an eyebrow at the two of them. “Just tell me.” “Um… It’s just… Well…” Eraserhead’s eyebrow began twitching in annoyance as Deku continued to trip over his words. Katsuki sighed. Of course Deku couldn’t get the fucking words out. It felt weird to just tell someone after hiding it for so long. “Deku and I have a shitty unsealed soulbond. Have since we were fucking babies. Recovery Girl told us to tell you or she’d beat our damn asses.” Eraserhead’s eyebrows rose. He sighed and closed his eyes in annoyance. “I knew you two would be problem children.” “Eh?!” Deku squeaked in shock beside him. Eraserhead just kept talking, ignoring the outburst. “Repeat that again. You’ve had a soulbond since you were how old?” “Less than a year.” Katsuki shrugged, “I don’t know the fucking months.” “Kacchan was 6 months old and I was 3 months old.” Of course the shitty nerd knew. Eraserhead sighed. “That’s rare, and certainly a surprise.” He rubbed at his eyes, “Usually when we have soulmate pairs they meet each other here. You said Recovery Girl knows?” Deku nodded. Katsuki just raised an eyebrow, refusing to respond when that was obviously what he’d fucking said. “That’s good.” He sighed and tapped his cheek in thought. “At UA, all soulmate pairs are assigned a faculty advisor that has experience with soulbonds. Lucky for you two, I happen to be one of those advisors, which means you would automatically be assigned to me since I’m both of your homeroom instructor. That means only myself, Recovery Girl, and Principal Nezu will know about your status as soulmates. Whom else have you told?” “You’ll be our advisor?!” Deku was practically bouncing up and down. Katsuki groaned. Of course the nerd was still fanboying over getting to know Eraserhead in person. “Just our parents, Principal Nezu so we wouldn’t be split up in the entrance exam, and fucking All Might. And the shitty specialist our parents took us to when we first bonded. No one else knows a damn thing.” “All Might?” Eraserhead was frowning. And apparently ignoring Deku’s fanboying. Katsuki smirked, clearly their teacher wasn’t used to fans. It made sense, given that he was an underground hero. “Idiot got his fucking quirk late, and when the damn sludge villain attacked us, All Might could tell Deku couldn’t control his quirk worth shit and offered to teach him so he didn’t fucking hurt himself. He couldn’t teach him, though, without me hanging around. And well… it’s All Might. We trust him.” “I see.” Eraserhead frowned. “That explains why All Might was asking around this summer about how to train someone with an emitter quirk, specifically.” He ran a hand through his hair, “Yours would have been difficult for him.” His eyes focused on Katsuki, then darted between them, evaluating. “As your advisor, I’ll meet with you two once a week either before or after school or during lunch. I’ll also meet with each of you individually once a week, same time frame. We can do all the meetings at once or at different times, I don’t care. We’ll figure it out later.” He sighed. “This can count for this week’s meeting with both of you, as I’ll need some time to get paperwork and things together. What do you know about your soul bond?” Deku began to ramble, “We can’t be that far apart or we’ll start feeling sick. Our bodies are under some sort of strain and will probably start to feel the affects of the unsealed bond umm… soon.” Deku shrugged, “Recovery Girl told us to come see her after school started and she’d check again. Um… the bond is usually sealed with a uh,” he blushed, “a k-kiss. And there will be a mark on our chests afterward that represents our bond. And we’ll gain some sort of ability with it, too. Heroes with soul bonds are usually able to locate each other some how, though…” Deku frowned, “Not always? I haven’t been able to find out.” Eraserhead blinked. “Well. That’s more than most know, I suppose.” He shrugged, “Part of my responsibility will be to help you understand your bond more.” Deku frowned, “But I thought… I thought only people with soul bonds know about them.” His eyes widened, “Do you have a soul bond?!” Eraserhead frowned, “One, don’t ask people that. We’re a secretive bunch for a reason. And two, yes, or else I wouldn’t be one of the advisors.” “With who?!” That question earned a groan. “Again, don’t ask people that.” The man rubbed at his temples. “I’ve known you two for less than a day. Stick around for a few months without getting expelled and I may tell you.” He paused, raising one eyebrow, “Though you realize that would mean one more person would know about your bond?” “Ok!” Deku was practically vibrating with excitement at meeting someone else with a soul bond. “That’s fine! I mean, they’ll keep the secret because they’re your soulmate and they know how important the bond is because they have one too!” Katsuki wasn’t quite sure what to think. It was… weird. All their lives they’d been told that soulmates were special and unique. That they changed history. And Eraserhead…. Katsuki couldn’t deny that the man was impressive, but, well… he wasn’t All Might. Maybe he just hadn’t lived up to the soulmate destiny thing, yet? “We’ll get into more details about the bond next week. As for now….” The hero grimaced, “This is my least favorite part of the advisor role, but it has to be talked about.” He sighed. “Why is your bond unsealed?” Fuuuck. Katsuki refused to talk about emotions with his teacher. He turned to go, but Deku’s hand grabbed his wrist, his quirk keeping him in place. Katsuki glared at the traitorous loser. “I am not doing this alone, Kacchan.” He groaned. Shitty nerd. Dumbass soulmate. “Whatever.” Deku apparently took that as an acquiescence, because he let go of Katsuki’s wrist. And then promptly lost whatever nerve he’d had because he started fidgeting again in front of their teacher. “We grew up together, ok? It’s weird.” He wrinkled his nose. “Kacchan is just Kacchan, I don’t know.” Eraserhead’s expression gave nothing away as he turned to Katsuki. “The fucking same.” Katsuki crossed his arms, trying to ignore the feeling like he was lying about something. He didn’t have feelings about the nerd! He didn’t. “He’s just my shitty partner. Probably will feel differently or some shit later on, given the damn bond, but I don’t think about any of that damn shit yet.” “Well, you can’t seal the bond until you both have feelings for each other and you both want the bond, so we’ll save the how-to conversation for another day, then.” How-to conversation? What the fuck? “Isn’t it just a damn kiss?” A slow blink. “The basic act required, yes.” He paused, adding, “Certain other things, like privacy, are advisable. But we’ll talk about those later when we have more time.” “Then…” Deku frowned, looking down at his feet, “It is a, um… romantic thing? I-It’s just, we’ve had it so long, and we haven’t heard of anyone else with a soul bond like ours, so my Mom said that maybe, maybe ours w-wasn’t—” “Soulbonds are always romantic matches, the media has that much right. Each partner always falls in love with the other, even if it takes a while, and the two help each other succeed with goals that would seem impossible if done alone.” The man shrugged, “If yours is something different, I’d be surprised, even though you’ve had it for so long.” “Oh.” Deku bit his lip, looking away from Katsuki. “Tch.” Katsuki didn’t like it, but… it did make him feel a bit better to know that one day Deku would like him that way. “Alright.” Eraserhead looked between them with narrowed eyes. “The bond isn’t something you can rush, but you must always be open with each other about how you feel. Talking about it and thinking about your emotions will help. Keep in mind that you’re weaker and more vulnerable with an unsealed bond than with a sealed one.” Katsuki winced. He knew that, but Deku was fucking dense! How was he supposed to get through to the shitty nerd? Eraserhead suddenly smiled, and Bakugou felt dread begin to pool in his stomach. “Might as well do a short individual meeting with one of you right now, as well. Bakugou, why don’t you stay?” The teacher brought up a hand to rest on his capture weapon. “Midoriya, go change and get your finger treated before lunch. We’ll walk that way, soon, and stay in a classroom nearby so you two aren’t ever too far from each other.” The man’s face was expressionless as he added, “And why don’t you eat lunch with Todoroki? He was looking lonely this morning.” Oh, fuck no. Deku always felt bad about people sitting alone and tried to— “He was?” Deku’s eyes widened. “But that’s... That’s not good. Thank you for telling me, sensei! I’ll do just that!” Before Katsuki could grab him, Deku was running toward the changing rooms. “What. The. Fuck.” He turned to glare at his teacher. His teacher that was smirking at him. “Why the fuck did you tell him to go talk to half-and-half bastard?” A shrug. “I will do whatever it takes to get through to your teenage brains, and you seem like the jealous type, Bakugou. And from your reaction, I’m right.” “Like hell! I just don’t want him talking to that useless bastard!” It had nothing to do with—with whatever their teacher thought! And what the hell did he mean about getting through to him?! “So Todoroki doesn’t intimidate you? Make you wonder if Midoriya would be better with someone else?” “Fuck you!” He didn’t have Deku’s hero worship. There was no way he was staying for this crap. He turned to leave, only to find his teacher’s capture weapon circled around him, the rope pulled taunt. Eraserhead stepped forward, head cocked to the side. “Listen, Bakugou. We’re going to walk toward the school, now, and you aren’t going to try to run away, or I will keep you tied up the whole time. We clear?” Katsuki glared at the teacher. “Like I have a fucking choice, you bastard.” His teacher shrugged, the ropes loosening from Katsuki and settling back down around Eraserhead’s shoulders. “Let’s walk, then.” He raised an eyebrow when Katsuki didn’t move. Katsuki growled under his breath. Fucking teacher. How could they be stuck with this damn asshole? He started walking toward the school, though, and Eraserhead followed after him. “There’s some classrooms in between the nurse’s office and the locker rooms that aren’t being used right now. We’ll talk in one of those.” The walk was fucking painful. All Katsuki wanted to do was run from this situation. Fuck. Why the hell did he have to talk about the fucking bond with this damn teacher?! Fucking Recovery Girl, trapping them into this shit. Finally, Eraserhead opened the door to some classroom, gesturing for Katsuki to go inside. Katsuki refused to sit for this conversation, instead leaning against one of the desks and staring at the teacher. Eraserhead sighed and hopped up to sit on top of the teacher’s desk. “As your advisor, that means I’m in the unenviable position of keeping you two alive with an unsealed bond. Step one in that process?” Eraserhead glared at him, “Sealing it. You want to protect your soulmate? You want to make sure that he stays your partner? Stop being an idiot and wake up to your own feelings. I’ll do whatever it takes to speed up that process.” “I already told you! I don’t feel that way yet!” Eraserhead shook his head, “See, that’s the thing. I believe that from Midoriya, but not from you.” Katsuki’s eyes widened. Shit. No. He didn’t— “Midoriya just looked confused when I mentioned it, but you became defensive.” The hero raised an eyebrow, “Why the difference, Bakugou? Why were you so angry when I sent him to talk to the one boy in the class that beat your scores this morning?” The desk burned underneath Katsuki’s hands. “Because Deku’s fucking mine!” Eraserhead glared at him. “Don’t lost your temper and deface school property, or I will expel you, soul bond or no.” Expel him? What the fuck? They couldn’t—“For this week, your homework is to think about what you just said. Think about it long and hard and what exactly it means that Midoriya is ‘yours.’ We’ll talk again next Monday.” Fuck, he’d have to deal with this emotion shit again next week, too?! Eraserhead stood up from the desk. “Now, I’m going to go eat my lunch, and I better not see either one of you until class starts. You still have thirty minutes to eat, so go chase down your partner. And don’t take too long changing or you’ll get light headed from the distance.” With that, the man pushed open the door and left the room. Katsuki stared at the closed door, anger rippling through him. What the fuck? How dare he barge into his relationship with Deku like this! And what in hell did he mean, think about what it meant that Deku was his? Deku had always been his! Always! Fuck, the nerd was probably talking with that Half-and-Half Bastard right now! Katsuki jumped up, hurrying to the locker rooms and glaring at anyone he saw in the hallways. He wasn’t fucking jealous of the bastard! He just… He just hated him. Hated the fact that the bastard had gotten first. Katsuki was supposed to be the best! Not some random Half and Half Bastard! He and Deku had said they would stay at the top, and already that position had been taken from him! No, Katsuki wasn’t fucking jealous. Deku was his, and always would be. They were fucking soulmates, after all. He wasn’t jealous. He just hated being fucking weak. But Katsuki would beat him, the next chance he had. He would. Katsuki slammed the cafteria doors open, ignoring the startled grumbles and complaints from the lameass extras that were sitting nearby. Deku. Deku was waving at him from the center of the cafeteria. Thankfully, Half-and-Half Bastard was nowhere in sight. Instead, the shitty nerd was with Round Face and Shitface, Katsuki’s own bento in an empty seat on Deku’s right. Katsuki grimaced. Looks like his soulmate wanted him to play nice with this dumbass extras. He trudged over to the spot, sitting down with soft thump. Immediately the two extras went silent. “Kacchan! You made it!” “I wasn’t going to fucking miss lunch, you shitty nerd.” He looked around cautiously, there wasn’t an empty tray anywhere… “I thought you were going to talk to that Half and Half Bastard.” Deku frowned, “I’ll have to try some other time. Apparently he never came to the cafeteria, but Iida-kun Uraraka-san invited me to sit with them.” Katsuki nodded absentmindedly, just happy that he didn’t have to deal with the bastard at the moment, though he would also prefer if these two dumbass extras were gone. Katsuki opened up his bento wrap, pulling off the top to reveal the curry inside. He grinned. Auntie had added the extra spices he liked. “Huh?” He looked up to see Round Face glancing between his bento and Deku’s. “You two have the same bento!” “Tch.” Katsuki glared at her, “Obviously, it’s not the fucking same. Deku can’t handle any damn spice.” Shitface was frowning in thought. “It is unusual that they are so similar, though! It looks like the same dish.” Deku was laughing nervously. Katsuki rolled his eyes. It was clear the shitty nerd didn’t want people to know they were living together. Katsuki didn’t know why he bothered when people always found out, and eventually added it to the reasons to bully and/or ignore them. Whatever. He’d lie for the dumbass, for now. “Our moms are friends and trade recipes and shit. They probably thought it would be fucking cute or some shit like that if we had the same meal.” Deku sagged in relief as Round Face ‘awwed’ at that explanation. Girls were fucking weird. Shitface just nodded in understanding. “So, Deku-kun—” “What the fuck?” Katsuki turned to his soulmate, who let out an ‘eep’ of distress, his eyes darting between him and Round Face frantically. “Why’s she calling you Deku, you shitty nerd?” “Umm…” Deku turned to him nervously, “I didn’t think it was a big deal? She said that it made her think of ‘dekiru,’ like ‘you can do it,’ and I really liked that idea, so I told her she could use it, but I didn’t realize you might not like that, so I’m sorry, Kacchan!” Round Face blinked in confusion. “Is it like a personal name? I don’t have to use it!” She scratched the back of her head sheepishly. “Sorry if I was too forward.” “N-n-n-o! That’s not it! Please don’t think that! I’m super happy that you want to be my friend!” Fuck. His friend. Shitty nerd had always wanted friends. Katsuki hated everything about this damn scenario. “It’s not some sun-shiny shit like that! It’s ‘cause I have to do everything for this ass!” “Kacchan!” The nerd was pouting. Actually pouting. Katsuki’s eye twitched. “Not everything! We’re partners, after all.” He said the last bit quietly, looking at Katsuki uncertainly. Fuck this. “Of fucking course we are!” Katsuki poked Deku in the forehead with the back of his chopsticks, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you still can’t even remember to tie your damn shoes some mornings.” “Kaaacchaaan!” Katsuki smirked at the nerd’s mortified face. Deku quickly hid his face in his hands, mumbling, “I just get distracted, that’s all!” “Uh-huh. And that’s why you’re a fucking Deku.” He looked up to glare at Round Face. “Not because of some dekiru shit.” The last thing he wanted was this dumbass extra using his name for Deku. Then again, the nerd would probably sulk for weeks if he thought Katsuki had taken away some shitty sign of lameass friendship or anything like that. Katsuki sighed, “If you want some shitty friendship nickname just call him Izu-kun like his mom does or Zu-kun or some shit like that.” “Aw!” Round Face perked up, her giggles stopping finally, “Zu-kun is so cute! Can I call you that, Midoriya?” The nerd was practically beaming. “Of course!” Round Face grinned at them, “Thanks for letting me call you that! It’s nice to have a nickname for a friend.” Her smile was too fucking bright. Just like Deku’s. Fuck, this was going to be miserable. Katsuki’d never actually chased possible friends away from Deku, but these two were making that idea tempting. Whatever. He’d just focus on his fucking meal. “It’s… um, it’s nice to have a friend.” Deku was doing his damn shy smile. “You’re so sweet, Zu-kun.” “Eh?” The nerd turned bright red. “No one’s ever said that…. Except for Kacchan’s mom, I guess.” “How come?!” Round Face actually fucking gasped at that. Shitface was frowning, “I’ve only known you for a little while, but it’s obvious that you are very kind, Midoriya.” Katsuki smirked as Deku turned a deeper shade of red and started trying to stutter out his thanks. Round Face saved him by changing the subject. “I guess you and Bakugou must be really close, though, huh? If you know his mom that well.” Deku just hummed noncommittally. “Our moms are best friends, so we’ve known each other since we were babies.” Round Face clapped her hands together. “That explains it!” There was a pause as she scrutinized Katsuki. He glared back at her, one eyebrow raised. In the end she just shrugged, “Sorry, it’s just that you’re both so different.” “What the fuck?!” She’d only known them for a day! She didn’t get to make statements like that. Shitface nodded next to her, “There’s the cursing, for starters.” “Um…” Deku was poking at his food as Katsuki glared at them both. “There’s nothing wrong with fucking cursing, you dumbasses!” Deku just shrugged next to him, “Kacchan’s always talked that way.” Suddenly he grinned, “Though my mom can get him to stop sometimes.” “Deku! You damn traitor!” He circled his arm around Deku’s neck, pulling him into a headlock and rubbing at his head with his fist. Deku squawked, arms flailing, “Kacchan! Kacchan noooo!” He pushed a little harder against Katsuki’s side, “I need to eat, Kacchan!” “Tch.” He released the nerd, “Then eat your damn food and don’t talk about shit like that.” Deku pouted. “Kacchan, it was just a joke.” Katsuki glared at him, but went back to shoveling the curry down his throat, ignoring Round Face’s amused grin and Shitface’s alarmed expression. Deku kept talking with the damn extras, but Katsuki ignored them for the rest of lunch, focusing instead on his meal. Even if he hated them, he’d figure out how to live with these two dumbasses somehow, if Deku wanted him to. He would. Though he really fucking wished he didn’t have to.

Kurosaki Isshin   His son was not kind. Not anymore. He’d let go of that delusion when he’d stabbed an unconscious enemy in the back. The boy he knew was gone, replaced by a near stranger. His son had lived a lifetime of horrors Isshin never wanted for him; a war Isshin had pulled down on his family by the very nature of what he was.    From what he'd come to understand, it was possible his son had been the only one capable of ending it, but that didn’t mean he was proud that his son had been forced to clean up a mess from a life he’d long left behind.    Ichigo grew up strong. Isshin had shamefully hoped he would be powerless, that he might be spared a world of bloodshed and battles, but he’d sensed his reiatsu grow and flourish, and he willfully turned a blind eye. Urahara taught him in his place, because he couldn't bear to face his son. He was a coward sometimes, right when it mattered.   Isshin hid behind the lie that his children could decide for themselves. It was a nasty lie, one that still haunted him. He'd been selfish and cruel to let Ichigo face Soul Society alone. Byakuya could have been callous, he could have slain his son in the street, and that would have been all on him. He’d bet his son’s life on people he knew were not known to be kind.   He’d been facing that, owning up to his mistakes. It took time to see how truly warped Ichigo had become. He’d had hope that wasn’t the case, but he’d been wrong. It was one thing to face the consequences of his decisions head on, but to suddenly skip years of hardship, to see the impact his decisions had made on Ichigo years into the future...Isshin wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse.    Perhaps it was both. He didn’t have to see the grief wearing his son down into veritable madness, but he also didn’t have years to adjust. It was a shock to see that his son had become a killer. That he was good at it. It was painful to see just how little he trusted, and to know every ounce of mistrust had been earned.   Initially, Isshin had been afraid of Ichigo. He’d seen what he did to people by accident. What was to stop him from killing his sisters? For a time, he saw the monster everyone else did, but beneath all that rage, he caught glimpses of the son he’d raised, and he was reminded they were the same. The illusion fell away, and he felt foolish. His couldn’t see a monster anymore. He saw only his son ; Masaki’s boy. He thought Masaki might be disappointed in him. He couldn’t fill the hole she’d left behind, he couldn’t be the shoulder for his children to cry on, to depend on. He didn’t know how to be. The words Masaki had spoken so easily died in his throat, and he was left feeling nothing but loss.   Never in his life would he wish that loss on anyone, let alone his own flesh and blood.   The look of pure anguish on Ichigo's face was reflected in Isshin’s soul, cutting deeper than any blade ever could. It wasn’t something he should have been able to feel, it felt wildly intrusive, and the small, animal part of his brain recoiled and needed it to cease. Ichigo’s pain hit him straight in the gut, and he could no longer tell it apart from his own.    If he'd had any doubts about his son and Grimmjow, they fled in that single, crushing moment. Ichigo loved that arrancar.   He depended on him, leaned on him, loved him, and this thing took him. It was quick, as those things often were. Isshin didn't think Ichigo even had the time to fathom what he'd lost.    Despondent, cautious blue eyes were devoid of any compassion, they were devoid of anything. His gut screamed at him that this thing was wrong, it was death itself and this arrancar was its corpse to play with.    He wasn't looking at Grimmjow anymore. This wasn't the same arrancar that had sacrificed himself for the sake of Ichigo's sisters.   Isshin was grateful he had. He was more than grateful for that. God, he was grateful. A few more seconds, and that monster could be wearing one of his little girls. The very notion had him tasting bile.    That coursing dark churned and boiled around the pair in angry waves, seemingly eager, desperate. Hissing and howling voices filled the silence, pressing into his brain with a prickly persistence. He pulled his girls closer, holding them back from the dark that surged around their brother.    They forgot their own fear, they didn’t need a direct line to Ichigo’s soul to see he was suffering. He yanked Karin back by her arm when she slipped from his grasp. “No! Karin!”   She whirled on him, a clawing fear in her eyes that he’d never seen before. She screamed, “Are we supposed to do nothing?!”   The desperate pitch in her voice made his heart clench in pain he didn’t want to feel. Not now, this was no time to grieve.   He couldn’t see his son’s face, only black hair, snagged by an unnatural wind. “Ichigo!” If Ichigo heard him, he made no sign of it, and Isshin couldn’t hear the words that they shared, not beneath the angry voices of the Gods.    Dread was sinking too deep into his son’s heart to uproot, and it was justified.   Grimmjow disappeared, his figure rippling as if a mirage, until Isshin had to question if he'd ever been there at all. His son stood still, far too still for the utter chaos in his soul. This went beyond grief. Something in his son had broken.    Isshin untangled himself from his daughters and straightened, the air suddenly silent, the wind dead. He circled around to face his son rather than startle him and wind up dead. His sandals scuffed concrete as he stepped off into the street, circling his son in a wide arch.    He finally came around to face him and his breath tangled  in his throat. He didn’t see a monster now, he saw his son as he had when he was a child. Swaths of black painted his cheeks and obscured his expression, but  Isshin saw the agony there as plain as it was the day his mother was stolen from them. Those weren’t the eyes of a killer, those were the eyes of a fearful, lost boy.   “Ichigo?”   Golden eyes snapped to his, shoulders moving with a sharp intake of breath, and his son was gone, la sangre curling in the space he’d just been standing. Isshin clenched his jaw, his breath squeezed from a tight  heart, but the next was slow, steady. He couldn’t afford to panic.   Turning back to the house, Karin stood, shoulders hunched and arms crossed, side by side with Yuzu. “Why did he do that? Why would he protect us?”   The fullbringer stood a few feet away, but curiously hadn’t left. He hadn't seemed to be there of his own will, but something kept him lingering and observing. The question Karin had him looking to Isshin for an answer.    Reaching for both of them, he pulled them into a stiff, awkward hug. The adrenaline hadn't quite worn off, and both of them were shaking. His daughters wanted to be tough, but this was a lot to ask of them, and they didn't shove him off. For whatever reason, they chose not to make close friends, they kept everyone at arm's length but each other, and after seeing what their brother went through, he couldn't blame them for fearing the worst from everyone they came into contact with.    He squeezed Yuzu's shoulder when she sniffed, biting back tears. “Because Ichigo loves you both, and Grimmjow knew that,” he said. His daughters were smart, they’d seen that look in the arranar’s eyes, they knew the answer before the question had even been raised. They only voiced it because it wasn’t fair.   That arrancar had been Ichigo’s pillar, as Masaki had been for Isshin. He’d had three young children to raise, he couldn’t afford to fall apart. Ichigo had a whole universe depending on him, but the people he cared about we're too far out of reach...and the look in his eyes. Isshin’s chest felt tight and sheer despair on his son’s face. No amount of estigma could hide that from him. His son was...he couldn’t do it.   Whatever fragile support system his son had cobbled together was broken, and now he couldn’t be sure what he would do. That was a frightening thought.    He looked at Kugo. “Drink lots of water, avoid alcohol for a day, and take some aspirin. Please leave.” He’d fulfilled his duty as a doctor, but his tolerance for strangers was already at zero, especially a stranger that had been a hostage up until a few minutes ago.   For some reason, Kugo looked ready to argue. Rather than deal with him, he kept himself between Kugo and his daughters and went straight for his phone. He called Kisuke, and to his surprise, the shopkeeper spoke first. “What happened?”   “I was hoping you could tell me.”   There was a pause, the tapping of plastic keys, and Kisuke answered, “Come by. We have a lot to talk about.” He paused and added, “Bring the Fullbringer.”   Isshin hung up, looked at Kugo, and the man took a few steps back. “No, I’m not getting involved in any more shinigami shit. I’m leaving.”   Isshin made a sound of disagreement. “No, you’re not.”   “You deaf?”   Kugo turned his back; a bold move on the property of a very angry shinigami. “What did my son promise you?” Isshin asked.   Kugo froze and looked back. “What?”   “I know my son. What did he promise you?”   Kugo’s eyes narrowed. “The truth.”   “Fine. You’ll get it. Kisuke will listen to your story.” Isshin gestured. “But you have to come with me.”   Kugo stared, then bared his teeth in a grimace. “Fine.”   ---xxx---   Zangetsu   If Zangetsu could attest to any sort of fear, it was staring him in the face. Ichigo was lost. Whatever control he had over his power hadn’t merely slipped, it was in a freefall. But he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t flee where it would cause less harm. His reiatsu flooded Hueco Mundo with a pressure it's inhabitants couldn't feel, but it was inexorably tied to his control over the Gods. La sangre was in chaos, black waves hungry for prey it was denied.    Ichigo wasn't going to let Grimmjow die, it wasn't a decision he could make. If the very notion of losing him drove him to this, Zangetsu didn't want to imagine the fallout if he actually killed the arrancar. Shinigami was safe, Ichigo was no longer a threat to him.    “ Shinigami .” Zangetsu hissed the name like a curse.    Ichigo's inner world fared worse than the real world. Black sand seeped through the cracks in Ichigo's inner world, trickling into the empty buildings in his heart. Outside that small haven, the wind howled, drenched in bodiless voices.   Even if he'd dragged Ichigo here, he was nearly unresponsive. The black streaks down his wielder's cheeks shone with tears, teeth clenched in pain and rage. His bloodlust sank into his heart like a hot blade, desperate and eager to kill something no longer within reach.   Zangetsu had seen something similar before. Similar but not the same. Grimmjow was still alive, they could both feel his soul burn at the edge of their consciousness. He was alive, and even with all this power, Ichigo could do nothing to free him.   Glass crunched under Zangetsu's feet as he stepped closer, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I'll do it.”   “No.”    “Ichigo, Grimmjow is only the first. Do you want to lose him, or everything?”   “I can't.”   Zangetsu twisted his hand in his hair and Ichigo turned his head to meet the pain, baring his throat. Zangetsu snarled, “ I can!” Ichigo didn't need to speak, he was begging him with all his heart. “I can make you!”    “Yes,” Ichigo whispered. His voice was lost among the howling wind and the rattle of glass in cracking frames. If he forced Ichigo's hand, he would break him.    Ichigo had forced Zangetsu before. His blade had broken, snapped under the will of a stronger enemy, but never by Ichigo's hand. Ichigo had never willfully disregarded his feelings or used him as a tool.   He'd seen the result of that in Kenpachi. His sword screamed, nameless and betrayed by its wielder. What would that be like, to suffer a partnership so toxic? To cut Ichigo so deeply he never trusted him again?   For all that he blamed Ichigo for, Zangetsu couldn’t imagine doing it himself. He could decry his wielder all he wanted, but they were one in the same. Neither of them could hurt the one they wanted to protect. His grip in his hair loosened, shifting to the back of his neck.   He leaned forward, dropping his head to rest against Ichigo’s in a touch that was unusually gentle. Gentleness wasn’t something that came naturally to a weapon, but he was more than a sharp edge. He was Ichigo’s regret and pain and lost hope. His wielder didn’t deserve this. To be reduced to this fearful, lost mess, forced to hide in his own soul.   Zangetsu whispered a promise. “Then the world can burn.” Grimmjow wasn’t dead, he was merely out of reach. “You will have him back, King.” ---xxx---   Harribel   The sudden chaos that befell Hueco Mundo startled Harribel, but it was also painfully familiar. La sangre writhed through the floor and walls in rippling waves, restless and eager. It frothed around her feet, sometimes passing straight through her. It was unsettling, but not painful, and she knew it damn well could have been. “Ichigo...” It would  have been expectant, and perhaps smart, to assume this was the product of rage.    If she were strong enough to feel the hybrid’s reiatsu, she might have been certain, but her gut told her this wasn’t anger, but pain . Past experience might have led her to assume it was rage, but that wasn't the aura she felt from la sangre.   Without pausing to think, she reached for the communicator to pull up Ichigo’s location. She got nothing. Broken or jammed, it hardly mattered when it wouldn't work.    She dropped everything to seek out Szayel. She fell into sonido, rushing past oblivious and confused arrancar. La sangre clung to some of the weaker ones, but even if it chose to eat them, there was nothing she could do about it that she wasn't already doing.    it was uncomfortable to run without seeing the floor. The ground had disappeared beneath a carpet of darkness, but she could still hear the ring of her heels on solid stone.    Szayel seemed busy when she step foot in his lab. She didn't shout, but she did make an effort to project her voice. “Where is he?”   The scientist was hunched over a console, reading lines of data she simply didn't understand. His voice was clipped  “I'm still looking.”   “What's taking so long?”   Szayel made an irritated noise and swiveled in his chair to snatch a handheld device from a table to her left. He tapped the screen and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, exposing the scar on his face. If he was so distracted that he would so carelessly bare a scar that caused him such shame, then he really was doing all that he could. “Kurosaki is very powerful. When he spreads out his reiatsu and influence like this it's like trying to find the eye of a storm from inside the storm.”   “Do you have an idea?”   Szayel made a hurried, tense sound, and rolled his chair back to the console spread. He pulled up a map and asked absently, “You can't mean to speak with him.”   Harribel's answer was succinct. “I do.” She felt it was her duty to step in, not only for the sake of every sentient being in Hueco Mundo, but as something of a friend. “You were looking for him before I ever got here.. why?”   Szayel stiffly shrugged. “Curiosity. Or perhaps self preservation.” Amaranth eyes broke from their task. “You can't say you don't find it daunting that our lives are in the hands of one very unstable man.”   It was a valid point, and one Harribel couldn't argue because it haunted every decision she made; her waking hours and restless nights. Kurosaki was their savior, but he was also their nightmare. A nightmare with the emotional stability of a madman.    She liked Kurosaki but he was, at his core, a threat. She wasn’t sure if the tragedy was that Kurosaki himself knew this   She shifted her weight, restless. “A location, Szayel,” she demanded,   He bared his teeth in a retort he didn't dare speak and said, “Take the tablet. If you must go, I'll update as I narrow the field of view. You might have better luck with a visual than I will, this power overloads sensors and leaves me blind.”   Harribel lifted a hand to the communicator by her ear and called, “Neliel. Report to Szayel. Watch him, keep him on task.”   An affirmative rang over the connection as Szayel drawled, “Hhnnn, don’t trust me?”   “Of course not.” Harribel picked up the tablet, got her bearings and left, her focus narrowing to the task at hand. Ichigo could be anywhere in an instant, she could only hope he would stay put until she could get close, and when she did, that he wouldn't run, or worse, kill her.   While she ran, her thoughts kept replaying the same hard discussion she'd had with Ichigo months ago. Some things might be uncertain, and some things Ichigo refused to tell her, but there were certainties: the hybrid couldn't die, la sangre had irreparably changed him, and he was torn between three Gods that had driven his predecessors mad.   She checked the tablet, then her surroundings, then sealed off the fear that flowed like ice through her veins. She was afraid, she had every right to be. The person she was approaching could be the man she knew, or he could be twisted by something she had no reason to trust.   All she could do was hope for the former. There was no hiding from this. This was the duty she'd asked for, that no one expected her to uphold, but she chose to burden herself with anyway. She was a queen.   ---xxx---   Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez   Grimmjow was prepared to face death. He didn't regret saving Kurosaki's family, he'd never regret sparing him that, but he never thought he'd live to see so much despair on the hybrid's face.    He'd seen Kurosaki at his worst; in rage, pain, loneliness, or need, but this was too much.   Kurosaki looked shattered. That stricken look in his eyes wasn’t one given by someone ignorant. Kurosaki knew exactly what was happening to him, he understood, and didn’t that just make it worse.   Nothing had prepared him for this. He felt his own face stretch into a smile, he felt his shoulders shake with unwanted laughter, and his soul curdled in disgust.   If it wasn't enough to have to see his pain on his face, he had to feel it too. He had to sit back and witness something he'd caused, and he knew this was hell.    Years in solitude as an adjuchas we're nothing compared to this. He hurt. He thought he knew pain, but he was naive. This was a pain that had nothing to do with his body. There was no easy cure. His heart ached.    Something in Kurosaki snapped with each bone Shinigami had broken. He saw that irreversible something darken those amber eyes.   Grimmjow had gotten used to losing; Kurosaki beat him into the ground when they fought almost on the daily. Sometimes the hybrid even let him ‘win’, but it was never a true victory. That was too ambitious a goal for anyone alive. He’d bitterly thought of those skirmishes as loses. Now he saw it very differently.    This was worse than defeat. The sting didn’t batter his pride, it crippled his soul. To feel his body move, his mouth form words he’d never speak, was violating. He’d seen Kurosaki succumb to the Gods, forced into action he never meant to take, but to feel it himself brought with it an entire realm of respect and fear. He understood now. He understood the fear in Kurosaki’s eyes when he looked at him, when he lost control.   Grimmjow thought he knew what it meant to be powerless, and he’d been wrong. The panic that clawed its way up his throat was his own, but there was nowhere to run, nothing to fight. He’d lost.   It was no fucking wonder Kurosaki had issues.    That Shinigami bastard took him away, to an empty space unscarred by battle, but heavy with the burden of one. He felt it in the air, and he smelled it in the fear of the shinigami stranded there. They’d been played, they lost just as badly as anyone. Nothing but sacrifices, gathered together to feed a monster.    He was a walking meatsuit shield, Kurosaki didn’t have the guts to kill him. Once, he’d had the resolve to do what he had to, but no longer. Love had softened that resolve, and it had proven to be a deathtrap for them both.    Grimmjow knew he was Kurosaki’s weakness, but he’d naively hoped it would never be used against them. It was easy to think Kurosaki couldn't fail. He lost some, but in the end, the stubborn bastard eventually won.   Not this time.    It started with the conduits. Grimmjow wasn't even sure anymore if Kurosaki had killed them out of mercy or not.    There was an apology hidden in his eyes, the hybrid knew he’d rather die than be a slave in his own body. But Kurosaki couldn't kill him. He couldn't and he wouldn't try.   Did he blame Kurosaki for that?    Shinigami took his damn time strolling up to a shinigami. The fucker seemed to enjoy it, that or he didn't have a care in the world. It might have been both. In one move he'd gotten everything he could have wanted. He had the strongest shield he could have hoped for.    The shinigami scattered, a school of fish parting for a shark. Grimmjow knew he didn't look friendly, but this fear was instinctual. These shinigami sensed something big in the water even if they couldn't see it.   Shinigami used sonido as effortlessly as if Grimmjow’s body were his own. But his body still didn't move right. It wasn't that he felt the movement was jarring or slow or stiff, it was simply wrong.   In one sharp motion, Shinigami caught a man by the shihakusho and ate him. He was still there, his hand was still clenched around fabric, but he now understood Kurosaki's horror.    The man's soul was just gone , siphoned into a void that promised true death. Grimmjow's guts roiled at the sensation, sitting backseat to something he thought he'd understood. There was eating a soul for power, and then there was this.    Stop.   The scraps of Alteza in his soul surged up with such violence, Shinigami hesitated, the body he'd stolen seizing up in agony. Grimmjow's awareness faltered, caught between a God and a parasite. His soul screamed under the pressure and his legs buckled, bringing him to his knees.    Weak.   The word rang in his head, bodiless and soundless, but he understood and he knew exactly what it was.   Grimmjow had pride, he had it in spades, but this was beyond pain, this was something deeper, something unnatural.    Stop .    Shinigami threw it back at him in disgust, if Grimmjow could attribute feelings to it at all.    Shinigami wanted his body to move. It had no care or reason, it wanted to consume. It was a need so immense even Grimmjow could feel it, and it was using up his soul to do it.   It made him stand, forcing his body past a limit Alteza imposed. It set its sights on another shinigami, paused, and drew Pantera.    Shinigami pulled on his reiatsu and forced him into his Segunda Etapa. The sudden rush of power was a relief, but no sanctuary. Satisfied he wasn't going to break, Shinigami curled his fingers like claws and went after another.    This didn't bring him to his knees, but it hurt in a way he'd never felt outside of Alteza. Shinigami was forcing his soul to its limit, and this was just the start.    Grimmjow had never wished for death before, but he understood Kurosaki now. He fucking understood. It would have been the perfect moment... ---xxx---   Harribel   After a time, Harribel found she didn’t need Szayel’s guidance. La sangre moved in a distinct pattern, radiating from its source, and it was easy to follow it back to Kurosaki.    It may have been intentional in the hopes others stayed back, Kurosaki didn't like being found, but it could also be out of carelessness. If Kurosaki wasn’t of sound mind, she could assume it was the latter, but she knew him to be mindful. Regardless of the reason, continuing was a definite risk, but one she needed to take.    The figure she found in the desert wasn’t Ichigo.    He stood differently, his presence felt off, and when cold yellow eyes met hers, she knew immediately who it was. Ichigo’s inner spirit regarded her with an indifference and bloodlust that shook her to her bones. He could kill her, and he might do it despite Ichigo's protests.   The other moved with startling speed, suddenly before her. That in and of itself wasn't unusual, but this animosity reminded her of before, when his inner spirit had been defending him in his sleep. He wore Ichigo's body as his own, but the behavior wasn’t the same.    “What do you want?” He demanded.    “What happened?”   The chill in Ichigo's eyes softened and looked for an instant like the man she knew. “He's gone.”   Gone? It struck her that Ichigo was alone. Lately, he was never without his shadow. She couldn't pin the emotion roiling in his power until that moment. Despair.    Her eyes widened. “Grimmjow,” she breathed. The spirit looked away, and she realized he was just as affected as Ichigo. “He's...” Dead. She didn’t want to finish that thought, worried the very word might illicit violence.    The spirit wavered, eyes narrowing with a flicker of grief before it condensed into rage. “Out of reach,” he said. He looked away, distracted by something she wasn't privy to, and when his eyes fell to hers again, there was a softness there she hadn't expected to see. A shadow of a smile quirked his lips, looking shockingly like Ichigo, despite the differences in body language. “King likes you. If you're smart, you'll stay away from him.”   Harribel tensed. “Why?”   The spirit didn't answer her, and his lack of cooperation was as annoying as it was concerning.“He's sorry. He really wants you to know that.” He frowned as if unwilling to repeat his wielders words. “He's sorry he wasn't strong enough.”   Harribel took a step forward. “Don’t leave me in the dark.”   The spirit shot her a warning look and she stopped. He watched her, and she saw the conversation pass behind his eyes. “He’s going to do something very stupid. He’s going to do a lot of stupid things.”   Understanding tightened her chest. “Love.”   “If you can call it that.”   ---xxx---   Urahara Kisuke Isshin showed up with a very unhappy Fullbringer. He gave him a grim, shallow smile, attention briefly flickering to his daughters. “Girls.” They gave him a look of acknowledgement, but said nothing. It was understandable; they’d been through a lot. They were tough girls, but the strain was starting to show. He looked back to Isshin and asked, “How did you convince him to come?”   “I’m here cause I wanna be,” Kugo snarled. “And I ain’t here for you.”   Huh. Kisuke shared a look with Isshin, then disregarded Kugo’s answer. He gestured for them to come inside as Karin asked, “Where’s my brother?”   “I’m working on it,” Kisuke answered. Yoruichi hopped up on his shoulder as he passed, tail flicking anxiously. It was nice to have company that wasn’t depressed or panicked, and she filled that role nicely. She was deeply upset over the loss of her student, but she compartmentalized better than anyone he’d ever met.   He brought them to his lab, despite his internal insistence he keep them as far from it as possible. He tossed Kugo a device that looked part ways between a joystick and an inside out microwave. Numbers flashed on the screen when the fullbringer caught it, numbers far different from the numbers that had been there before. “Thank you, Kugo.”   The fullbringer turned the mangled mess of wires and metal in his hands. “The fuck?”   “That’s all I needed. You see, developing his power so close to Ichigo had a defining transmutative effect on Chad’s power. I needed a pure Fullbringer.” He hit some keys and took a seat. “Now we can track this creature without you.”   “I didn’t agree to this!”   “I’m aware.”   Isshin came up behind him. “Whatever this thing is, its possessing Grimmjow.”    Kisuke froze, fingers poised over the keys. Shit. “It killed him?”   “I don’t know. Ichigo ran.”   Chad spoke, startling Isshin. “It took Grimmjow?” The man stepped into the room to stand beside Isshin, concern  radiating off him in waves. “That’s…”   “Not good,” Isshin agreed.   Kisuke made a noise of agreement and concern and stood, heading to another monitor. He entered a command prompt, and waited. An image of Szayel flickered to life, the scientist looking visibly annoyed. “You want to know where he is too, I assume?” The arrancar snapped.    “Too?” Kisuke started, “He isn’t in living world, or Soul Society-”   “So he must be here,” Szayel finished.   Kisuke noted the sweat on his brow, and the tension in his jaw and guessed, “He’s upset.”   Szayel snorted. “Everyone in Hueco Mundo can feel it. Harribel is on her way to his location as we speak.”   Isshin asked, “Is that wise?”   Whatever Ichigo was doing, it was having an effect on all of Hueco Mundo’s residents. Darkness snaked  along the bottom of the screen and rose from the floor in a wave, passing through Szayel’s lower body. The arrancar shuddered  and sat back in his chair. He looked visibly winded, but it seemed harmless. Szayel glared at Isshin and snapped, “Likely not.”    Yuzu came up to the monitor and Yoruichi jumped into her arms, offering a bit of comfort where she could. Yuzu held her tight, tears in her eyes.   Kugo dropped the tech he’d thrown at him in a heap on the floor, startling everyone present save for Yoruichi and himself. The fullbringer leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms. Kisuke realized it was likely a bit too much to hope he might leave.   Isshin asked, “Can Harribel talk him down?”   Szayel leaned back in his chair, thoughtful, then answered, “No.”   “How can you know?” Karin demanded. “What do you know about Ichigo?”   Pink eyes settled on Karin, cold and calculating, and to her credit, Kurosaki didn’t back down. “Quite a bit, girl.”  He leaned forward on the console and said, “Harribel has strong ties with Kurosaki, but the hybrid has been putting more  and more distance between them. The only one he listens to anymore is that blue haired buffoon.”   The air in the room shifted at the mention of Grimmjow, and while Kisuke trusted his poker face, he did not trust those of young girls. Szayel’s eyes widened when they showed their hand, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “What happened to the Espada?”   Kisuke’s eyes shifted to Isshin, letting the burden of that knowledge fall to him. He needed to find this threat. It was more important than finding Ichigo. Wherever Grimmjow was, Ichigo would eventually follow. He moved back to the other monitor and kept working, letting Isshin take over, but that didn’t mean he stopped listening.   “He’s still alive,” Isshin said. “I think.”   “You think ?” Szayel hissed. “Do you know how insane he was before he split off his soul?” Szayel must have thrown something, because he heard the crash through the speakers. “We’re fucked.”   “That’s a little defeatist, don’t you think?” Isshin growled.   “Either he finally off’s himself and the realms collapse in on themselves without a host, or we get to watch him kill  everyone for the fun of it.”   “Someone can talk him down.”   “Who?” Szayel challenged. “Jaegerjaquez is indisposed.”   “Let me talk to him!” Karin shouted.   “Oh, brilliant,” Szayel mocked, “Send a child to face a demigod.”   The room devolved into shouting like a match had been dropped in a puddle of gasoline.    “I’ll go!” Ishida shouted.   The presence of a new voice was enough to stop the bickering, all eyes turning to face its owner. Kisuke was shocked to see Ishida in the doorway, Tessai hovering behind him. Well that explained how he got in.   Chad raised his hand, phone held in his grip, and explained, “I asked him to come.”   Karin frowned at Ishida. “I don’t even know who you are. Why would Ichigo listen to you ?”   “Because I hate him,” Ishida said. The boy looked terrible. He didn’t seem to be sleeping well and he’d thrown on old and wrinkled clothes to rush over. His eyes held grief no boy his age had any right to carry. Kisuke didn’t want to pity him, but he did.    Ishida pushed up his glasses. “All I got was a half-assed text from Chad and I can still see the problem, don’t pretend you all don’t see it. Kurosaki won’t kill the arrancar. You send me because I made the choice that he can’t make.”   Silence stretched in the room. Szayel was the first to break it. “Ya ain’t crazy like he is. You can’t reason with crazy.”   Kisuke turned back to his computer, clacking away. “It’s better to try and fail, than never try at all.” ---xxx--- Kurosaki Ichigo   Ichigo hadn't believed in Hell, but to stand in the same meadow he'd kissed Grimmjow in, watching him murder the people he wanted to protect…it was Hell.    Each soul Shinigami devoured left Grimmjow in agony. When he'd clawed at his hollow hole, the pressure he put on his soul was external. What Shinigami did was entirely internal. Harder to see, harder to fix...easier to feel.   Grimmjow had a lot of pride, he was far from weak, but this was different. Having control stripped away so completely by an enemy was revolting, Ichigo knew, it was a terror he thought all living things felt, it felt too rooted in instinct not to be. He could be cruel, but he wouldn’t wish that kind of powerlessness on anyone.    The arrancar before him looked like Grimmjow, the burn of his reiatsu was almost the same, but he moved like an imposter. Where before his reiatsu was wild and unsettled, now it was forcibly calm. Ichigo barely recognized him. It was the difference between a stormy sea and a lake; it wasn’t the same, and it broke his heart all over again.   Even the way Shinigami made Grimmjow kill was wrong. It was methodical, merciless, and completely without feeling. These shinigami were prey to consume. Nothing more, nothing less.   Grimmjow wouldn’t kill someone so weak. He wouldn’t kill a cowering weakling; he wouldn’t kill kittens. Shinigami didn’t give him a choice. It was his claws sinking into flesh, it was his soul bearing the weight of their death, and every shinigami it ate made Grimmjow’s soul weaker.   Ichigo felt the rising tide of despair in Grimmjow the longer this dragged on. It took Ichigo a moment staring at his back to understand what he was feeling.   Grimmjow wanted to die.   Ichigo couldn’t give it to him.   The very thought of taking his life made his hands shake. He spent every waking moment carefully keeping him alive. To kill him now felt impossible. Was he a coward? selfish, cruel, and weak? He thought he was all of those things and more. The one thing Grimmjow needed from him and he couldn’t give it to him .   He had all the power in the world to stop this...and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He shouted, “You want me?! You can have me!” His voice cracked, the strength leaving his voice in a rush of pain. “Just give him back.” There was no sense hiding the desperation in his voice, Shinigami knew how much he cared. It wasn’t a demand, he was begging.   Shinigami relaxed Grimmjow's grip on its victim and the shinigami crumpled in a heap, a soulless shell. It laughed with his voice, slow and full, and it was all wrong. “Eager?” It looked at him, and Ichigo's heart stuttered in his chest. Those eyes lacked the spark he loved; these eyes were dead. “Soon, Kurosaki.”   “It's weak,” Zangetsu snarled. “It needs a shield to protect it while it grows. It knows you can shred it like paper.”   'I won't...I won’t kill him.’   “I know,” Zangetsu snarled.   Deep in his thoughts, Ossan spoke. “You were used Ichigo, but this was always it's plan. If not Grimmjow, it would have your father or sisters.”   He knew that, but hearing it made it real. He was seconds late, but those vital seconds could have cost him everything , not only Grimmjow. Ichigo had trusted Grimmjow with his family for a long time, although his reasons had changed. At first it was because he knew Grimmjow feared him, and the arrancar wasn't coward enough to kill weaklings. Now it was for him.    He'd done something Ichigo didn't think was possible. Channeling la sangre was possible for a conduit, but to manipulate it? It savaged his body and his soul in a way Ichigo could actually see. His hair was more black than blue, a shade darker than he’d come to expect.    Only four shinigami left, Ichigo wasn’t sure where it would go next. It was getting stronger. He couldn’t feel it directly, but Grimmjow was soaked in la sangre, Ichigo felt Shinigami strain the dark holding Grimmjow’s body intact.   “Saving your family granted Shinigami an opportunity.”   'I don't understand,’ Ichigo said. Grimmjow consumed his thoughts, his mind was struggling to think, to plan, to move past that singular moment of failure.    Ossan was patient with him, gentle, in a way he rarely ever was. “I know you can sense it Ichigo, la sangre's presence in him has grown. Grimmjow would likely be dead without it.”   Ichigo knew Ossan couldn't necessarily feel la sangre, but he'd grown used to sensing gaps and filling in the blanks. Even he could see it. Was it a blessing or a curse, that Grimmjow lived? If it killed him, would it have dragged around his corpse?   Bile rose in his throat at the thought, refusing to believe he was out of reach. Think . But Grimmjow stood less than twenty feet away, wind tugging his long hair across broad shoulders. Familiar, but not. He’d barely got to know him, and he was gone.   Gonegonegonegone   “Stop.”   Ichigo tried, sucking in a deep, calculated breath. Pain wouldn’t help him...but rage could. It was hard to grip when he could feel Grimmjow breaking. The very fact Shinigami forced him into in his segunda etapa meant the strain was killing his arrancar. Shinigami was going slow to keep his hostage alive, it was necessity, not mercy.    The moment Shinigami killed it’s host...kill his arrancar...Ichigo would kill him. He hovered close by, hoping for both a mistake and a miracle. Part of him hoped Shinigami would slip, that Grimmjow would die. That hope made him feel filthy. Relying on an enemy to kill when he couldn’t? Pathetic.   The Gods howled at him to do it, a sea of power sinking into his thoughts and guiding his hand. The Gods felt the pestilence in their world and yearned to snuff it out. Self preservation overrode entropy in a need that reminded him of the drive he felt to remove the Hogyoku. It was one of the few things that made the Gods feel alive. Needs were reserved for living things. And the Gods existed, alive in their own convoluted way.   It was a hard thing to fight.   The physical need to kill Grimmjow conflicted with his heart, and it was difficult not to panic. If he stopped thinking about it, he might just kill him by accident.   He grit his teeth in a flash of anger. His fist tightened around Zangetsu’s hilt and in a heartbeat, he’d sunk his sword through the chest of a felled shinigami. It did nothing to satisfy the craving in his soul. That parasite was still free, it needed to die. He shuddered, tension coiling in his chest.   “Don’t panic, Ichigo.”   N’GHA N’GHA N’GHA N’GHA N’GHA N’GHA-   Don’t panic...   He made a sound too close to a whimper and hissed, “ Shut up. ”   Ichigo felt Shinigami's attention on him and he looked up, meeting flat blue eyes. It was looking at him, and he hated it so much. It was like Grimmjow was already dead. No-nonono, he was alive and suffering and it was his fault.    That thing spoke using his voice. “Careful, godling.”   “Shut up!” It was a demand, but it sounded as desperate as he felt. He couldn't look at him anymore, it tied his breath up in knots. So he turned his back, yanking his sword from the body of a ghost. He asked it, “Why do you have to kill them? You want the Kugeki, Sunyata, la sangre? Take it!”   Shinigami laughed. “And kill my host? It very nearly killed itself.” It was suddenly too close, breath gusting over the nape of his neck. “I am a plague to the minds of Gods. I feast on their precious children,” it gloated. “Do the Gods howl for my death?”   Ichigo stood still, refusing to turn to face him. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to forget the body Shinigami wore. “Why didn’t my predecessors destroy you?”   “Destroy death?” It circled to stand before him and he the need to destroy it bubbled up in his throat in a growl. It leaned too close, and his hand snapped out for his throat, tight, but it could still speak. “Greedy, tiny things,” it rasped. “Always seeking to control.”   Ichigo glared at it, his heart pounding with the fear he might kill Grimmjow without intending to. He peeled his fingers from his throat, hands shaking and snarled, “I’ll destroy you.”   It leaned in close, pinning him with shocking blue eyes, Grimmjow’s reiatsu teasing his skin, featherlight and wrong. Ichigo’s heart skipped in his chest at the accusation it hissed, “ Liar .”   ---xxx---   Rukia   When Kurosaki Ichigo was in pain, everyone in the Gotei 13 knew it. They knew, but didn't speak of it, they weren't sure how. A shared, uncomfortable look was as far as most got. Sometimes Renji raised the question, but he never dug for details. It felt like a deep invasion of privacy, and for all of their faults, they could all acknowledge how invasive it truly was.   Kurosaki was hurting. A sudden shock to the heart, and all of the Gotei 13 was on edge. What could they do about it? Nothing. And so nothing was said. Everyone knew, but rather than risk frightening their subordinates, they remained silent.    The body of the shinigami she'd been sent home with was in a tent behind her. She had his name now, but she didn't know him. That could be her. It was the look Kurosaki had given her, one of contemplative fear. She'd seen a similar look in her brothers eyes before. She wasn't weak, they knew that, but she could understand fear.    She felt it too, in every injury or buried weakness she saw in her brother. He still couldn't fight, not well. He brushed off her concern, as was his way, but he couldn't hide from her. She noticed his jaw clench when he twisted too far or moved too quickly. It was hard to forget he would be dead without Orihime.   It was hard to forget she was gone. An unfortunate casualty in a war she had no sense being part of. A war none of them belonged in.   Now Ichigo was playing a game on a stage none of them could ever hope to reach. Demigod indeed. None of them had any reason to meddle with the Gods, it was out of their hands. That responsibility lay in Ichigo’s hands; clawed and scarred. It was so easy to forget he was the same highschool boy she’d met only a few years ago.   His responsibilities were at a level she simply didn’t understand. She wasn’t even sure Grimmjow understood. Ichigo was full of secrets,until very recently he’d kept everything to himself. She knew he was trying to share that burden with Grimmjow, but Rukia wasn’t so certain he could take it.    With the borders between worlds as unstable as they were, hollows were a rare sight in Soul Society. Patrols were often unnecessary, at least among higher ranking officers. The worst they saw these days were street gangs and petty theft with the hollows were locked in Hueco Mundo until further notice.   This made the sudden alarm and flurry of activity much more concerning than it might have been before. Shouts rose above the camp, but the source concerned her the most. That was Grimmjow's reiatsu, she would know it anywhere.   It flared with the intensity reserved for a battle, but it lacked the bloodlust that should have accompanied it. She knew Grimmjow, she wasn't scared so much as baffled. Ichigo wouldn't let him do this, he kept the arrancar in line. So he was alone?   Her confusion persisted as she rushed through lines of tents and scrambling shinigami. Orders were shouted, but chaos still buzzed among them. If she wasn't so set on her destination, she would have joined in organizing the mess, it was damn near pathetic how disorganized they were.   She pushed through a line of seated officers and audibly gasped. Grimmjow was in resurreccion, one she'd never seen before. Sweeping black fur ran along his arms and down his spine, but clutched in mangled fingers was the throat of a shinigami.   He didn't stand with the cocky arrogance she'd come to expect, he was off , and Ichigo wasn't there. She drew her sword and shouted, “Grimmjow!”   He didn't look. He dropped the shinigami and turned to the next without a lick of concern for the shinigami around him. His reiatsu was crushing the lower ranked officers, they couldn't even run. Personally, she was starting to sweat, she hadn't known Grimmjow was this strong.   He lifted a hand for a sweating, cowering unseated shinigami, and Rukia lunged, swinging for the back of his neck.   She froze, stopping her blade short just inches from Ichigo's face. It wasn't merely his sudden appearance that stopped her, it was the look in his eyes. She thought she'd seen pain there before, but she was horribly wrong. This was beyond distress, he wasn't even hiding it.   He reached up, pushing her blade out of his face with the back of his hand. Apology and grief swam in cold, yellow eyes. “I'm sorry.”   Dread flushed her veins with acid. “Ichigo?”   The demigod looked away, and her eyes fell to Grimmjow. The arrancar dropped a lifeless shinigami in a sickening heap and stepped around the body with unsettling indifference.   This wasn't the arrancar she knew, this was an enemy. A dangerous enemy. Why wasn't Ichigo doing anything?   She shouted, “Ichigo, what are you doing?! Stop him!”   La sangre rushed in the space between them and she fell back, zanpakuto raised. It felt like such a pointless, foolish action. She had seen Ichigo fight; he was ruthless and savage and skilled, even without the Gods, she couldn’t even dream of cutting him. Next to power like that, she was as good as a child waving a stick, and from the stricken look on Ichigo's face, he knew how unfair it was.    She shouted, “Ichigo, answer me!”   Grimmjow caught another shinigami in his claws and la sangre expanded and encompassed the three of them. A million tiny blossoms struck Ichigo's barrier, splashing against black in a harmless wave. Ichigo didn't even turn to look, her brother's bankai was useless against him and he knew it, but it wasn't in her brother not to try. Her brother's icy voice carried, despite how quietly he spoke. “What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself.”   Ichigo stayed silent, he wouldn't look at anyone, not even Grimmjow. She realized what she felt from him wasn't just grief, but shame.   She’d thought Ichigo looked stretched thin before, but he wasn’t trying to hide anymore. That hunted aggression was back in the tension in his shoulders and the unblinking look he leveled at the people around him. He often tried his hardest to appear less intimidating, but that front was gone. The person that stood before her scared her.   The arrancar was turned away, and when he spoke, her skin crawled, “Choose, godling...the few or the many?” He pointed with a twisted, clawed finger directly at Rukia and her stomach twisted. “This host is very opposed to killing this one. Choose, or she's next.”    Rukia grip on her sword tightened and Ichigo finally looked at Grimmjow, his voice thick with emotion. “No.”   In a flurry of sonido she could barely track, Grimmjow was suddenly in her face. She swung, and her sword struck the armor across Ichigo's back, his hand clenched tight around claws poised to sever her head. She swallowed her panic, cautiously jumping back to observe and understand.    Her brother’s bankai swirled and jabbed at weakness in Ichigo’s defenses, but la sangre reacted with a speed and aggressiveness she didn’t think Ichigo was in full control of. The few glances he spared her brother seemed to be out of a desire to hold back.   Grimmjow smiled at Ichigo, the expression looking distinctly wrong. The arrancar’s legs buckled, knees striking the ground, and panic flared in Ichigo’s soul. Slowly, Ichigo pried his fingers from Grimmjow’s wrist, and he answered softly, “The few.”   It suddenly clicked. She lowered her sword and whispered, “Oh, Ichigo…”    Something had taken Grimmjow's body hostage, something Ichigo couldn't kill, within someone he wouldn't kill. Ichigo might hurt the arrancar, but he was gentle with him in a way that was nothing short of love.    Gin's voice carried from out of sight, and Rukia’s attention was drawn when he stepped from a row of tents into the clearing. “You know, kid...ya ain’t like Aizen. Yer worse.”   Rukia’s eyes snapped back to Ichigo. That shame in his soul only deepened when Gin drew his sword. “Don’t get me wrong, I like ya, kid, I really do.”   Grimmjow was back on his feet, eyes set on her brother. Rukia’s stomach bottomed out. She released her sword with a shout, “Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!” She stabbed the ground and her command rang around the camp. “Juhaku!”   The thing controlling Grimmjow didn't even look, the ice that spiked from the ground towards her target was shattered with nothing more than a wave of Ichigo's hand. She screamed in frustration. “No!”   Ichigo turned to look at her in distress.     “I understand,” Gin purred. ”I'm selfish too.” He drew his sword, skipping directly into bankai. He didn't look particularly concerned, but Ichigo did.    Grimmjow was getting closer to her brother and she knew he would never run from a fight. She couldn't lose him, she could barely handle seeing him in pain, and now he stood in the way of monsters.   She swung again, but her ice was shattered into sparkling mist with little more than a look from Ichigo. The hybrid lifted a hand and crushed her brother's bankai in an explosion of darkness and glittering pink shards. It was a beautiful defeat, and it left her brother standing defenseless with his head held high. Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.”Nii-san!” She couldn't lose him too.   Gin struck at Ichigo with speed she couldn’t  even track, she only knew he’d attacked when his lengthened zanpakuto was held tight in Ichigo’s hand. The hybrid jerked his hand to the side, shattering his bankai, and Gin didn’t seem surprised, he even looked expectant. “A monster with a conscience...ain’t that somethin’ else.”   Ichigo shouted, “Shinigami!” Grimmjow stopped just yards from her brother. “You want me to choose.” Ichigo’s eyes were locked on Gin’s, resolved, even among the turmoil in his heart. “I chose.”   Gin looked at the hilt in his hand, and she couldn’t understand his expression. It was one of the few times she hadn’t seen him smiling. He looked back at Ichigo, something unspoken passing between them. Ichigo moved, suddenly  before Gin, and she made a helpless sound, something wordless and distressed, and stared in shock.    it took her a moment to fathom Ichigo’s sword was through Gin’s heart. He’d killed him. Ichigo killed him.    Sword hilt slipping from his grip, it struck the dirt at his feet. Gin coughed up blood and smiled through bloody teeth, a peaceful expression she’d never seen on his face before. Ichigo pulled his sword from his chest with a sound that struck her in the gut.    Realization sank into her bones and stole the air from her lungs. Ichigo was their enemy.   Her sword shivered, the shock trembling in her hands, and she lowered her sword. What could she do? Ichigo wouldn’t kill her . But she couldn’t stop him either. Useless .   Gin collapsed, but Ichigo caught him with the care he would catch a friend. Gin’s words rang in her head; monster with a conscience. She couldn’t even hate him, killing Gin was a blow to his own heart, she could feel it. Ichigo said he was sorry, and he’d meant it, she could nearly taste his guilt.   With the buzz of sonido, Grimmjow was there, his hand around Gin’s throat. Ichigo reluctantly let Gin go, and stepped back. A shudder passed through Grimmjow’s frame, swaying on his feet. He dropped Gin with no care,The arrancar fell to a knee and looked up at Ichigo. “This one was strong. More.”   Ichigo’s eyes narrowed, sealing off the pain in his heart. Rukia spoke, her voice soft, but Ichigo heard her, and turned to look. “Why are you doing this?”   His brows scrunched in pain, and he looked away, his shoulders falling with a sharp exhale. “I have to.”   “Ichigo!”   He flinched, and in a swirl of color, she was left standing alone, surrounded by trees in complete silence. He’d sent her away... he’d sent her away. “Damn you, Ichigo,” she hissed.    She sensed no one, no reiatsu, no living souls. Her knees hit the ground and she let out a slow, rattling breath. She closed her eyes, the sound of Ichigo’s sword sliding through bone and blood rang in her head. Ichigo was no longer a friend.  ---xxx---   Kurosaki Ichigo   The look Rukia gave him. Monster . He couldn’t do this with her screaming at him, looking at him in disappointment...he couldn’t. So he sent her away. Coward, coward, coward…   Gin’s body was still warm when Shinigami ate his soul. His heart ached in his chest, at the very least reminding him he still had a heart, despite the yawning hole in his chest. Killing was one thing, but promising someone nonexistence was another. Gin knew, he knew this was it, and he did it for her.    Zangetsu…   “I’m here, King.”   ‘I can’t do this.’   Blood spilled from Grimmjow’s lips, snaking in thin lines down his neck. “More.”   Ichigo’s brows drew together and he stared in horror.  More. How many more of his friends had to die for his mistake? How many…   “King, it’s your choice.”   Ichigo whispered, “I’m not an executioner. I’m not.”   “King if you don’t choose, it chooses for you.”   Kyoraku shouted from somewhere behind him. “Ichigo!” There was rage in his voice Ichigo had never heard before,  and had never wanted to hear.   He tore his eyes away from Grimmjow and turned to face him, steeling his heart when he saw the look on his face. This was a deep betrayal, Kyoraku had shown some trust in him, and he threw all that work away. Forced by his own heart into becoming something he despised.    Kyoraku didn’t bother drawing his sword as he faced him, they both knew he couldn’t hurt him. “Why?”   Ichigo didn’t know how to answer. Was it really for love? This felt evil, this was wrong.   But he needed him.   “Why!”   Ichigo heard Shinigami straighten, sensing the damage he’d done to Grimmjow’s body by devouring such an old,  powerful soul. This was killing Grimmjow faster, but it also meant less of his friends...less shinigami had to die. Ichigo glanced down at Gin’s body, his throat tight. A sacrifice to protect someone he loved. Ichigo understood only too well, but he never thought he’d be the executioner.    Worse than Aizen indeed. He lowered their guard, he didn’t fake his feelings towards them like Aizen; they were real. And didn’t that just make it worse. “I can’t let him die,” Ichigo said, “I can’t.”   Byakuya finally spoke, understanding at least that he had no intention of killing his sister. “What gives you the right to decide who lives and who dies?”   A hysterical laugh bubbled out of his chest, and Ichigo answered, “Nothing.” He dropped his reiatsu across all of Soul Society, heavy and oppressive. He found the shinigami he wanted with ease. He didn’t want to kill, but the Gods did, and it tainted his reiatsu with killing intent.    Finally bending beneath his power, Kyoraku’s knees hit the ground and Ichigo’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t what he wanted, but this was the path he’d chosen, he couldn’t shy away from it now.   Kyoraku gasped through the weight of his reiatsu, but managed to ask, “What are you feeding?”   Laughter fell from Grimmjow, laughter that sent a chill up Ichigo’s spine, and Shinigami answered in Ichigo’s stead. “ Death , little soul.” It accused, “ Imposter . You steal my name and wear it proudly. You, with fear and such tiny understanding.”   For something that needed to hide in a body to keep Ichigo from killing it, it sure talked big. “I could kill you,” Ichigo snarled.   Shinigami struggled to stand, a smile on its face. “With power granted you by Gods that have no understanding  of the world that they dream. Human emotions corrupt, and the Gods corrupt in turn.”   Ichigo wasn’t so sure he understood, or had the mental capacity to try.    “We need each other, Kurosaki Ichigo. You’ve tasted their madness; it swims in your thoughts and seeps through your bones. It has a rapacious appetite, does it not? Give it to me.”   Need. Ichigo bared his teeth, his reiatsu falling heavy around him. “You have no idea what that means!”   Ossan warned, “ Careful, Ichigo. Pull your power back.”   Ichigo heeded that warning, baring his teeth in disgust. He lifted his reiatsu enough to keep from killing anyone, but they were still pinned like butterflies, completely at his mercy. It disgusted him than any part of himself might like it. He didn’t even know if it was his own impulse or someone else’s.    He pulled Kenpachi to him, and the first thing the man did was try to skewer him. Ichigo leaned out of the way of the jab for his eye, his hand tightening over the scarred Zanpakuto's blade. He felt his sword’s agony, but there was a connection there that hadn’t been there before. Good instincts, he didn’t want to kill him, but he was strong, and so was the kugeki in his soul.   He gave Kenpachi a look of apology. “Such a waste.”   Kenpachi smiled, well aware of the gap in their power. He abandoned his sword to try with his bare hands. The man lunged, wrapped up in his own reiatsu like a shroud. Ichigo moved, a clawed hand on his chest slamming Kenpachi to his back. The ground cratered under the impact, more than one of his ribs  snapping under the impact. He couldn’t win, but he’d tried. Kenpachi laughed hoarsely, “Can’t say I’ve got regrets.” He tried to stand, but Ichigo slammed the weight of his reiatsu down on him. He didn’t have time to humor his endurance.   Ichigo tossed Kenpachi’s sword aside and drew his own. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the fight you wanted.”   “Ain’t got time for weaklings.” He heaved a breath. “I can respect that.”   Ichigo stabbed his sword through his heart, shame singing in his veins. He wasn’t proud of this, but at the very least they could die by the sword, and not at the hands of a monster that had never been human. It was the best he could do, not even Mayuri deserved that sort of death. He was supposed to be their keeper, the Gods forced that job onto his shoulders, he could at least have the fortitude to kill them himself.   Shinigami took that sacrifice and it crushed Grimmjow, he felt it rock his own soul, searing and painful. Grimmjow coughed, blood splattering the ground. It fell from his eyes, streaking his cheeks in red and his whole body trembled.    Ichigo swallowed, panic rising in his chest, and he asked, “Is it enough?”   Voice wet with blood, Shinigami rasped, “More.”   “He’ll die.”   “More.”   Chest tight, Ichigo realized he had to choose. An older shinigami might kill Grimmjow...but a young one...Bile rose in his throat, and before he lost his nerve, he dragged Hitsugaya through the Kugeki, startling the shinigami  when he suddenly had his hand around his throat. His neck felt small beneath his palm, fragile. So much talent, so much potential.   Hitsugaya reached for his sword, and Ichigo let him draw it. Dark hair curtained around the blade  when it struck his neck to no avail.   Ukitake’s voice cut through his thoughts, straining from beneath his reiatsu at the edge of his dark boundary, la sangre nipping at his toes.  “Take me instead! Damn you!” His plea cut off into a coughing fit, and Ichigo wavered. Ukitake was old, but weak. Could he be substitute enough?   Ichigo dropped Hitsugaya and turned to face Ukitake. Rukia would never forgive him for this. How could she? The lives of her friends and allies for Grimmjow. And her teacher, a man she loved and respected, who was so ready to die for her sake.   Wisely, Hitsugaya staggered back, sword still raised, for what little good it would do for him. Ichigo was torn, when he heard  a voice he never expected to hear again. “So you really are a monster...I should have let your own power cripple you!”   “Ishida?”   He stood between a row of tents, his reiatsu pathetically small compared to the Ishida he’d remembered in his past. Hate burned in Ishida’s eyes, a look Ichigo had very rarely seen leveled at him, and rarely from someone he once saw as a friend.   “Can’t kill him, can you?” Ishida threw  his arm out. “Look at him! Would you want to die like this? Can you not even spare mercy for someone you love?”   Tear fell down Ichigo’s face, hidden among the warlike streaks painting his cheeks. “Stop,” he begged.   “You think it didn’t rip my heart out to k-” Ishida swallowed, throat too tight to carry on. “To kill her?” Ichigo had  nothing to say to defend himself. Nothing at all. Ishida chanced stepping closer, hands fisted at his sides. “You’re letting this happen, this is on you! How many more people have to die, Kurosaki?”   Ichigo stared, eyes wide, and asked softly, “How did you do it?”   “She begged me to, Ichigo.” Ishida spat, “Don’t tell me he didn’t beg you to spare him this.”   “I can’t,”  Ichigo whispered. “I can’t…”   “Coward!”   Yes, more than a coward, a monster.    Ishida stepped closer and hissed, “No more, Kurosaki. End it.”   End it…   Ichigo grit his teeth, looking down at Grimmjow. Shinigami spluttered on blood, demanding, “ More .”     “I’m so sorry,” Ichigo whispered.    He didn’t know who he was talking to anymore.    His heart hurt. Grimmjow hurt.   Stepping into sonido, Ichigo stabbed Ukitake, locking eyes with the shinigami that had tried so hard to  help him. Kyoraku shouted in panic and pain, and Ichigo stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”   Ukitake reached for his cheek. Ichigo flinched, but allowed it, brows furrowed against his hand. The shinigami struggled to get the words out, but Ichigo understood, “I’m sorry we failed you.” He jerked his sword from his chest, and was grateful for once for his cowardice. Rukia didn’t need to see this. She didn’t need the memory of her mentor dying, killed by someone who used to be her friend.   He couldn’t look at Kyoraku, he could only listen to him scream. He knew the two were close, he’d taken someone the Soutaichou loved as a price to pay for keeping his own love alive. He was the monster he always feared he was. Aizen was right.   Dragging Ukitake’s body back to Shinigami, he laid him down, pulling la sangre in close in defense. “Now leave him.”   Sinking Grimmjow’s claws into the fresh body at his feet, his arrancar’s body shuddered, Shinigami devouring Ukitake’s soul. Ichigo’s hands shook, watching in horror as Grimmjow vomited blood. He was doused in it, red matting cat-like ears. Ichigo grabbed grimmjow’s face with both hands, shouting at Shinigami. “Take me ! Leave him!”   Grimmjow’s shoulders shook with laughter, but Grimmjow’s body couldn’t accommodate it. Blood gushed from his lips and he looked up, eyes dull.    Shinigami left Grimmjow’s body in a sudden flurry of motion, the thing sweeping into his soul and sinking into his body.     Ichigo screamed. The Gods vehemently disagreed with the sudden encroachment, surging back against this new entity, but this time, Shinigami was stronger.    It dissolved away the Gods presence in his soul, devouring it with the wash of hungry need. The Gods fought, but  Shinigami resisted.   It didn’t last long at all, Shinigami filling up all the spaces in his soul it had devoured the Gods. Ichigo’s chest heaved,  blinking up at the sky as the acid in his veins faded. He sat bolt upright. Grimmjow .    His arrancar was struggling to breath around his own blood, a pool of it gathering in the hollow of his throat. Ichigo lunged for his unbroken hand, squeezing it, and turned him on his side so he wouldn’t drown. He tried to heal  him...nothing happened. “Nonononono-”   Grimmjow coughed blood wet on his lips, his eyes unfocused on the ground, but his arrancar knew he was there. “What did you do...Ichigo?”   Ichigo...he’d never used his name before. “ I need you. ”   Grimmjow’s shoulders convulsed with real laughter, but he made no sound. “Been wantin’...to hear that. Don’t  think...it matters anymore.”   Ichigo focused on his heart, his hand pressed flat to his chest. “You can’t-” His throat tightened, struggling to heal Grimmjow’s shattered body. It wasn’t working . Shinigami’s power was out of reach, it rejected la sangre, and the kugeki; he tried everything .   Failure, failure, failure, NO.   “I think...I’m done,” Grimmjow rasped. Shocking blue eyes were sightless and dull with defeat. He did this, he did this to him.   Lifting him to his chest, Ichigo held him tight, but Grimmjow didn’t move, he barely breathed. He felt so small in his  arms. Fragile. Only human.   Pressing his cheek to his throat, Ichigo sobbed, and he knew Grimmjow was right.    All of that...for what?   His arrancar’s heart struggled, it fluttered in his chest and Ichigo knew . He grit his teeth and hissed, “I love you.” Grimmjow was limp in his arms, cold. He could count his heartbeats. Slow. Too slow.   And Grimmjow’s heart stopped.    He was still.   Ichigo’s breath twisted in his throat, blood pounding in his ears.   Blood dripped from Grimmjow’s hair, it was wet on his lips, and he wasn’t moving...he wasn’t going to move.   He was-   Grimmjow was… ---xxx--  

Bruce, distantly, walks across the tarmac. Thinking of that weekend. Thinking of— He feels like he’s viewing his feet from miles above. From ground level. From every angle and every past moment as they carry him forward. His private plane landed moments before and has already come to a stop. The rolling staircase slides into place, attendants are locking the wheels. The door opens. He looks up, towards the heavens. — (then) “Hey Ma,” Clark had said that remarkable breathtaking weekend. His cell phone was on speaker. He’d been propped up on his elbows, belly down on the mattress, the afternoon sun from the windows making him glow. They’d migrated upstairs to the lakehouse after the futon downstairs had become too disgusting for either of them to stand. The bed had devolved into a nest of blankets. There were half-eaten sandwiches on the side table, among other things far less innocent. Clark was making a phone call to his mother. And Bruce— Bruce had buried his head under a pillow in disbelief. Clark was using his own phone and Bruce wasn’t going to be ridiculous, trying to snatch it away from him. This whole thing was ridiculous enough. “Hey Ma,” Clark repeated, like an explosion of sunshine. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” “What’s this?” Martha asked. “It’s too soon,” Bruce protested weakly from beneath the pillow, knowing Clark would hear. Knowing Clark would ignore him. “I found him Ma. I found— He’s the heartbeat I’ve been listening to all this time. He’s,” Clark had looked at him with an intensity that Bruce could feel through the mass of egyptian cotton and feather-down shielding his head. “He’s amazing, I— when will you have time to come over for a visit? Or we could go to you?” “She can use my plane,” Bruce said, pillow still stuffed in his face. Clark repeated his words and Martha laughed. “His ‘plane’?? What have you gotten yourself into Clark?” “Bruce Wayne,” Bruce answered, glad to be inaudible to the human ear, and Clark threw another pillow at him. “He’s... turned out to be pretty rich?” Clark hemmed. “His name is— well— he’s Bruce Wayne.” There was a loaded silence. Bruce waited a beat, then took the pillows off after the silence stretched too long. He wormed his way over the bed to awkwardly speak into the phone, “Mrs. Kent, I know what the media makes of me and what you must be thinking. I can only tell you that there’s more to me than what they say and,” he looked at Clark. “I know your son has hidden depths. As do I.” “Hidden depths,” she repeated with emphasis. “This isn’t a conversation for the phone,” Bruce said, knowing that Clark’s line is unsecured. Knowing and letting it be that way because something in him wanted a record of this call, wanted the permanency and the proof. “You must know this.” He ended his statement firmly but didn’t know how to continue onwards, so it just sounded bruque and abrupt. He didn’t know how to soften it. It made him feel wrong-shaped, as it ever does. Fortunately Clark stepped in, “I really want you to meet him face-to-face Ma, I think you’ll get along great.” There was a warmth in her voice when Martha next spoke, “Alright Clark.” And then she laughed, “But the church bake sale is next weekend. I’m already committed, and I can’t go back on my word. It’ll have to be the weekend after.” “That’ll be perfect,” Bruce said. “We can set everything up on this end for you. Travel and accommodations. You won’t have to worry for anything, just bring yourself and toiletries. Clothes, if you like.” “‘If I like.’” Martha laughed again, voice going abruptly vast as if putting them on speaker phone. “He likes dressing people up,” Clark confided. Bruce sputtered in response. “Well thank goodness someone is finally dressing you right,” Martha chided. “What?” Clark asked. “I looked him up just now on the computer, and there’re pictures of you on his arm.” It was Clark’s turn to sputter as Bruce smirked. “I do know how to use the internet.” Martha said, a smile in her voice. “Don’t believe everything you read Ma.” “I suppose I’ll have to see for myself won’t I?” “The weekend after next?” Bruce asked, to confirm. “I’ll see you then,” Martha said. “Take care of yourselves, now. I won’t have you go rescheduling on me, Mr. Wayne.” “I wouldn’t dream of it.” — (now) Martha appears at the door of the plane, at the top of the stairs. Bruce looks up at her as if through a tunnel. The wind on the landing strip is very strong. The next thing he knows, she’s hugging him. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what his face is doing. He brings his arms up and pats at her awkwardly. The paparazzi are at a distance, but their hi-res lenses are enormous and rather unmistakable. “They’re taking pictures of us,” Bruce reminds her. “I know,” she says. It’s part of the plan. “We need to be seen like this,” he reminds himself, pulling back and placing more distance between them.   “I know, Bruce.” Martha examines his face. “This is an awful way to meet.” He wonders what is an appropriate amount of devastation and grief to express to the surviving mother of someone whom you’ve only known for a little more than two weeks. (Two weeks? But it felt like—) Bruce thinks he may have nodded. He leads her to the car. Alfred greets her stoically and holds the door for them. As soon as they get in, and the world is shut away from them, Bruce turns to her. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I was wrong,” he says. “I—” Martha looks at him. Bruce can’t read her face. “This is my fault,” he says in a rush, “and we have some indication that Clark’s not— his death might not be permanent, and I promise I will find a way—” She holds up a hand and Bruce’s mouth snaps shut. That was inappropriate, he thinks. I put my foot in my mouth, he thinks. (Why didn’t I just stay in the shadows. Why didn’t I just give her money. Why didn’t I just follow however she wants to proceed, Bruce thinks, this isn’t the place for Bruce Wayne.) Martha put her hand on his as if she’s consoling him. He doesn’t understand. — (then) Eventually they had gotten off the phone with Martha and Clark dove at him. “Thank you,” he’d said against Bruce’s mouth. “There’s nothing to thank,” Bruce protested. “There’s everything to thank,” Clark said, and looked at him for a short moment that felt long, for how much Clark’s gaze changed throughout it. “Look, I know how hard it is for you to agree to that.” Bruce glanced at him sideways, distancing himself from Clark’s embrace, “Seemed easy enough for you.” He reached out towards the nightstand and hovered his hand over Clark’s phone, then let it drop away. “I would’ve never thought to tell her. I would’ve thought eventually finding out from the news would be enough.” He cleared his throat, “But you’re right, it’s better she hears it from you.” “So?” Clark made an inquiring sound at him. “There’s something that’s bothering you, I know you. What’s up?” “I would’ve never thought about it.” Bruce emphasized again, running a hand through his hair, “Clark, I’m. You’re.” He wanted to hold Clark’s face in his hands. He curled his hands into fists instead. “You’re more human than I am. Better.” Clark only grimaced and looked out through the glass walls, over the lake. Fog was creeping through the trees in curling wisps obscuring the view of the shore of the property. They’re not even facing the right direction but Bruce still felt the presence of the ruined Wayne manor lurking over his shoulder like a gargoyle. Clark hunched in on himself. “I’m not what they call me on TV.” Clark struggled a moment for words, “I’m not a god, that’s stupid. And I mean, ‘more human’ than you? You’re actually human and you’re brilliant. What you’ve been doing the last two decades, just with your gear downstairs, you—” “Don’t.” Bruce violently gestured as if to sweep that all away. “I was born into money. It makes it easy. You have more heart, more empathy, more humanity, I’m—” “Brilliant.” Clark insisted, “You’re brilliant, I’m just fast. I have more time, subjectively, to work through things. To be frustrated. To be angry. How did you think I have enough control to do what I do at the speeds I can go?” A breeze and then suddenly there was something very small in his hands. When Bruce looked closer, he realized it was a tiny model of the Cave. Delicate. Clark sat next to him now, chin on his knees and arms around them. Somehow he looked small, too, despite all the space he took up. “I used to make these as a teenager, because there’s too much Time on my hands. I couldn’t figure out how to slow down, not without the soun— well.” The detailing on the model was exquisite. The staircase and the computer monitors and his car, Jason’s memorial, and all the rooms that were tucked away— “Did you make this just now?” “Yeah.” Clark reached over and plucked it out of Bruce’s hands to hold between thumb and forefinger. “I would have to crush these after I made them because Pa insisted on me staying safe.” There was a long moment as Superman stared at the model of Bruce’s life’s work, held between his fingertips. The air seemed to tremble as it waited for those fingertips to close. Bruce barely breathed, waiting to see it. Wanting to see it. “I broke so many.” Clark placed the cave in Bruce’s palm again, safely. “I’m not more human, Bruce. I’m just lucky enough to be able to be a dumbass where no one sees.” “But you still feel it all. All that time,” Bruce realized, belatedly. “Even at that speed, and your strength, you can still perceive everything? Clark,” He took a breath and grabbed at Clark’s wrist, uncaring of where the carving fell, “How precise are your senses?” What Bruce didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to know, and knew he should have asked himself from the very beginning is, ‘How much does the world hurt?’ Pain is used by the body to tell you when something is wrong. The double-edged sword in being flexible was over-extension. Sharpness in one’s vision was matched by sensitivity to light. Excellent hearing countered by being more easily deafened. Pain was how the world had set limits on the Waynes; the once great family whittled down to one. Pain was how Bruce found his limits, and surpassed them. How he found other people’s limits, and used them to understand and control them as the Bat. What living thing didn’t know pain? Who out there could not get hurt? (Who among us doesn’t bleed?) Because that was who he’d thought Superman was. The more fool, him. Bruce realized, staring at Clark’s flickering expressions, trying to grasp the whole of what he was seeing. “The world is very loud,” Clark replied lightly, looking out the window. Bruce couldn’t swallow. Clark shrugged. Didn’t meet his eyes. “You learn to focus past the noise.” To survive when the entire world hurts, Bruce heard. But what a goddamned miracle it was that Clark was still sane past all that cacophony. He wondered if it might be possible to somehow craft a room where Clark could be given a moment of peace. — (now) Alfred parks the car in the spot closest to the staircase. Bruce gets out and holds the door for Martha. He leads her down into the cave. To the table in the medical bay, where Clark lies on a hospital bed, under a sheet and some sun lamps. Martha had told Bruce about Clark’s reaction to the sun over the phone, and he’d been willing to try anything. The wounds had reacted to the lamps by closing up. So did his uniform, before it’d retracted back into a small metal crest. Clark looks like he’s sleeping Like a kiss might wake him. (it hadn’t) Martha, back very straight, picks up one of Clark’s hands. She clasps it between two of hers, and even so, hers hands are dwarfed. “He’s cold,” she murmurs. “Rigor mortis never set in,” Bruce says in return. “From data the government had on Zod, this seems normal for Kryptonian biology.” He doesn’t know what to say next that wouldn’t be wishful thinking. He doesn’t know how to talk about the days where he and Clark researched the green mineral and Zod and Luthor. How to talk about how there had been a rip in the world, and the young man who’d spoken as if today were the past and Clark had always— and will always— exist in the future. A future that now might not exist. Salt on the wound. She sets down her son’s hand, and goes over to Bruce. She grabs his hand instead with both of hers and looks at him. Bruce has nothing to give her. He feels very small. “...lets get some tea into you. Warm you up.” Martha says at last. “A fine idea,” Alfred agrees, materializing by the stairs with a tray already in hand. The butler enters Bruce’s personal rooms in the cave, leading the way, without so much as a word of permission. But then, Alfred never needed it. — (then) Bruce stopped before he rounded the corner to the kitchen. He’d dropped down to the cave to fetch some chains but the bedroom was empty when he’d returned. He’d set the heavy links carefully, quietly, on the mattress and then tracked the sound of voices. “...and he’s followed this insane schedule for years?” “A little over two decades by this point,” Alfred said. “To try and save Gotham.” “Yes.” “But,” Clark spent a long moment silent and Bruce wondered how long that lasted for Superman, subjectively, “Why does he love Gotham so much?” Alfred spent just as long a time silent in response, and there’s the sound of cloth shifting, as if the older man had leaned heavily against the counter. “Bruce has always been such an intense child. Needing the details of things. After his parents died, it turned into needing the details of their death, then death itself, then pain, and fear. How to master it, and reduce it. In himself. In the city.” “Yes?” Clark said, “But to love the city so much that he pretty much burns himself out for it?” “Master Clark,” Alfred said heavily, “Master Bruce loves nothing so much as that which is difficult, that which can control him, those things and those people who can overwhelm him. And hurt him.” Pointedly, “But surely you know that.” Clark was silent. “Understand that these words are not an indication of my disapproval,” his caretaker continues. “But that, of all of Master Bruce’s options to cleave himself to...” There’s a long pause that made Bruce strain his ears. Alfred cleared his throat, “Well. I give you my blessing.” Bruce has to walk in and interrupt, “He’s joking, of course.” “Am I?” Alfred tilted an eyebrow at him as if he’d known Bruce had been eavesdropping this entire time. “You are.” Bruce insisted. Clark raised an eyebrow too. “Then, all joking aside, as the man who’ve changed your nappies you must understand that you are fully grown enough to take care of your own laundry this weekend.” Bruce’s neck grew hot, thinking of the disaster downstairs. “Understood.” Clark ended up helping out, helping him wrangle the sheets into the machine and laughing at Bruce, as Bruce peered at its settings. It was there, in the laundry room, where Bruce was hit with the dreamlike surreality of the situation. He wondered when he would wake up. — (now) Bruce hands Martha and Alfred mugs of coffee. They’re both staring at his monitors. Bruce has to steel himself internally before he can glance over too, stomach a hollow ache. The Death of Superman! He has had all monitors scanning news feeds and internet chatter, tabulating the responses from various media outlets opining on the event and the global outpouring of grief. However Martha has positioned herself at the edge of one of the main screens. She’s instead reading only the feed Bruce had dedicated to hits on searches of one Clark Kent. It’s being reported that Kent was injured trying to help out during the Doomsday disaster, and has been moved to the Wayne Estate due to his recent relations with the Wayne heir. Bruce Wayne expresses general remorse at the news of Superman and all those who were caught in the fallout, donations pending, ‘...excuse me I have pressing matters to attend to.’ Regarding ‘pressing matters’, are you referring to the status of Clark Kent? ‘No comment.’ Medical equipment has been seen going to his lake house, as well as Dr. Leslie Tompkins. ‘No comment.’ The doctor herself was under too many NDAs to be able to release a statement.  Speculations are flying that Kent is in a coma, Bruce Wayne has been seen in the arms of Martha Kent at the airport. Scandalous relations between Bruce and his paramour’s mother, details on page 9! “Tabloids will do anything for a sale,” Bruce remarks uneasily. Martha gives a weak laugh. “You’ve known Dr. Tompkins long?” She asks “Leslie has been with us through thick and thin,” Alfred says, with a brief pointed glance around the Cave. Martha takes a look herself, hums in acknowledgement, and then goes back to the monitors. “I’d like to meet her then, give my thanks.” “She should be coming by later today,” Bruce says, heart unsteady, “But we’re both not sure what more good she can do.” “Clark’s been stabilized?” “If by stable you mean inert,” Bruce says harshly, then winces as Martha flinches back. They both stare uneasily at all the equipment surrounding Clark. Bruce had turned off the sound because they were all flatlined wailing. “We might want to think of worst case scenarios,” Alfred says gently. “It’s important in any scenario to separate Clark’s identity from Superman’s.” Bruce says. “The longer Clark registers to the general public as being comatose, but still alive, the safer all those who associated with him are.” Bruce is sure that Clark would want his mother safe, and is determined to protect everything in death what Clark would have in life. But Martha, to his surprise, looks at him with relief, “Then you don’t plan on stopping with the... well, what do you prefer to call yourself? The papers seem to refer to you as the Gotham Bat.” “I meant distancing Clark’s enemies from you,” Bruce protested. Paused. Conceded, “However, you’re right. This is the time that those of us with the ability to help should step up.” “It’s good to keep busy,” Martha says quietly. Bruce doesn’t know how to respond to that. He instead lets himself stare at the multiple videos of talking heads, on silent. Below them all are a running transcript, being data-mined as they went. (A Travesty. Who will step up? A disaster, A Doomsday.) His mind runs like a hamster wheel over those phrases, over how Clark had looked caught on the Luthor’s monster with his chest cracked open. How heavy Clark’s body seemed as Bruce passed him over to Diana— Clark was not moving. He wasn’t breathing. —as the helicopters circled overhead, searchlights lighting them up. Cameras, too. And Bruce made his movements sterile, when he realized their presence. Made himself step away. Made himself plan how to extract themselves from the spotlight and— Clark looked like he was asleep. —how to move forward in a world where here Superman has fallen. Where Superman— Where Clark has been impaled. Chest broken open because an alien monster has pushed his hand through it. Like some nightmare— It should’ve been him. —It feels like it’d been Bruce. Like his own heart had been pulverized, lungs compromised, ribs shattered and stabbing into him with every movement and breath. His lungs hurt. “Bruce, we should go out for lunch,” Martha says suddenly, firmly. He breathes out. And looks towards her in confusion. “A public appearance,” Alfred agrees, immediately starting to herd everyone upstairs in an uncharacteristically blunt manner. “I suppose.” Bruce peers at them, thrown, and feeling ‘managed.’ “Bruce Wayne should probably be seen touching base with Clark Kent’s mother.” He can already imagine it as the photographers might capture them. An upscale bistro perhaps, something that’ll suit her, but is clearly something Wayne would go to. The both of them would be attempting to warm themselves on coffee and not particularly tasting the food. Because Clark is in a coma. (Just a coma, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing to see here.) Tiredness would shadow their eyes, voices in low murmurs, stress curving their spines. “A hardship shared is halved.” Martha agrees. Bruce wishes she didn’t even have half. “I never got to thank you by the way,” she says when they’re ushered into the limo. Bruce blinks. “For what?” “If it wasn’t for the car you sent to the diner to pick me up for the flight, I would have gotten caught up in the break in.” “Was there some trouble at your work?” Alfred asks from the driver’s seat. “Louise said there was a holdup when some robbers came in during shift change,” Martha says with a frown. “They’d slipped in through the alleyway where the dumpster is and had everyone line up by the windows. The sheriff was prepared for a hostage situation, but they all got away.” “Should I look into it?” Bruce asks. Martha shakes her head, “They were cowards and fled at the first sign of trouble, didn’t even bother taking any of cash from the register or asking for people’s wallets. No one was hurt.” “Small mercies,” Alfred says. They’ve arrived at the bistro; Bruce frowns thoughtfully and makes a mental note to look into it later. — (then) “You don’t know what snakes you’ve invited into your bed,” Luthor said that horrific night, on that windy skyscraper rooftop. “What adders offering apples will kick you out of peaceful Eden.” “Oh, I think I have some idea,” Bruce Wayne replied, setting down the champagne Mercy offered him on a handrail without taking a sip. “I thought we were here to talk business?” Luthor eyed the glass quickly, then looked back up. “Still holding onto that pretence? You sure do like to derail things, don’t you Brucie? Or should I call you by a different name?” He means Batman. Bruce hadn’t thought the other man would be willing to show his full hand. Bruce had finangled a meeting with Luthor, knowing that his extracurriculars were probably known; but he’d thought Luthor would have wanted to hold that knowledge in reserve. In the past week they hadn’t managed to get any proof to hold Luthor accountable for misbehavior and Bruce got impatient. He’d let himself be lured to the other billionaire’s building, to this rooftop. Setting himself up as both bait and trap. It was best if he’d confront Luthor with Clark nowhere near any of the green mineral. Luthor turned to him with a manic look, walking backwards towards the skyscraper’s edge. “A fellow always has to factor in contingencies for his grand plans, but being forced to use all of them?” He heaves a sigh, “Why I hadn’t had to do that since dear ol’ pa and I’d hate to call you daddy.” “What specific plans are you talking about?” “Do you expect me to just tell you? What would our audience say?” Luthor nodded up to the side and when Bruce followed his sightline, there was a camera there on the eaves. It’s angled to capture anything that happened over most of the helicopter pad covering the roof. If Bruce dropped his cover, anything recorded could be held over his head as blackmail as incontrovertible proof of being Batman. Or worse, simply given over to the internet or the media, ruining decades of secrecy and putting Alfred in danger. Luthor, standing at the edge of the pad, was in the camera’s blindspot. “They would hear a man being provoked to the edge of his patience.” “That is if it was, hypothetically, capturing audio.” Luthor pulled a small black box out of his pocket. “But I don’t need audio for this.” The box opened, revealing a green glow. It’s coming from the tip of a long thin cylinder. A bullet. “Special order military grade. The absolute cutting edge in design,” Luthor winked. “Super hush hush.” Bruce took a step forward. “Well that got your attention!” Lex snapped the box shut and tossed it casually up, then snatched it out of the air. “You know, I’d rather thought you’d be on my side in this.” “What?” Bruce took several measured steps, trying to seem casual, to make it so that his earlier slip in composure was just a trick of the light. “You’re just a simple man of very wealthy means, as am I. And we worked hard for our means to mean anything, didn’t we?” Another toss. Bruce’s fists wanted to clench even as he held his face steady and calm. He approached Lex but Lex only started circling him, keeping Bruce at a distance. “Gathered our power even though it corrupts, ‘for everyone on earth was corrupt’, innit that right?” Lex laughed, “I know well the price of doing business, but how much blood is on your money?” Bruce stilled. “Meanwhile God in a red cape is just there, like a sword hanging over your head. Everything you’ve made with your own two hands sit in judgement for him to just,” Luthor’s hands flapped manically, “Zap it all away. Tear it all down like a tower or two, but you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Wayne?” “I don’t know what you mean,” he grits out. “I suppose not, if you’ve already made God kneel for you,” Lex murmurs thoughtfully. Bruce almost lunged for him but Lex cracked the box open again. “Do you think he’d come if I call, too?” Clark can’t be within five feet of the exomineral without feeling its effects, they’ve tested. Bruce hoped Clark wasn’t listening in, hoped that Bruce’s command of his body held and that his heart remained steady. Hoped that Clark stayed away. Bruce can't alert Clark that something was wrong. And Bruce would rather be shot than to watch a loved one yet again step between him and a gun. “They would still be able to piece together evidence of your wrongdoing based on the tapes,” Bruce stalled, as Les loaded up a long barreled handgun. “Tapes? Whose building do you think this is? Certainly not yours.” Lex smiled as he brought the gun to bear on Bruce. A helicopter is approaching. “I’d initially wanted to set the Son of Krypton and the Gotham Bat up against each other— a fight to the death!— but I suppose this will have to do.” Bruce had at his disposal at least five ways to close the distance, disarm Lex, and retrieve the bullet; and none of them he can apply with his top speed. Not without raising his heartbeat. And the helicopter came in faster than is safe or sane, the whump of its rotors vibrating the floor, the wind slashing across the landing, and taking away even more of Bruce’s options. No matter. He was willing to risk charging Lex head on. Flesh will heal. But the door to the rooftop banged open. “It’s fake,” Lois shouted. “It’s a distraction!” Now that he knew there was no danger to Clark, Bruce sent a mini-grapple from his wristwatch; its wizzing distinctive as it caught the gun. But Lex let go of the gun immediately instead of letting himself be reeled in. From Centennial Park an explosion boomed. “Needs must,” Lex chirruped and hopped onto the helicopter, it’d immediately started lifting away, “I’ve had to speed things up dreadfully, wasn’t even able to give things a personal touch, but you know how it is. Delegate delegate delegate.” “You—!” “Can’t pin a thing on me! My hands are clean and I’m nowhere near the scene of where you need to be.” Lex shouted pointedly as he rose into the air, “Where is your God now?” A roar shook the city. Something exploded out of the building encasing the Kryptonian ship leaping into the sky. A red and blue streak met it in mid-air, a thud felt even from this distance. The combined mass flew off to crash onto one of the islands in the bay. Bruce turned towards Lois, “What do you know.” “Luthor has been after certain government contracts—” “To create munitions against alien threats, I know.” “Not just that,” Lois said with annoyance, “But something that at first looked like biological warfare.” “What makes you think that it isn’t?” She pointed at the island where the battle was now taking place. Traffic news helicopters were already circling, lighting the area up. “Luthor snuck Zod’s body onto the Kryptonian ship.” “And something came out,” Bruce said hollowly. “Something came out.” A blur attached to something bulky shot straight up into the sky. They both waited, watching, hoping, but suddenly there was the streak of a missile and the entire night went nuclear. “Idiots,” Bruce muttered, “Superman gets stronger in the sun, which is just an immense nuclear reaction. You’d have to assume that’s true of all Kryptonian-based lifeforms.” Lois shot him a glance. “So what would make them weaker?” What would it take to subdue Superman? Bruce took in a breath, feeling punched. Numb. He closed his eyes. Tapped his earpiece. “Alfred, did you get all that?” “Loading up the plane with gas and spear as we speak.” God help him. — (now) “Hey, um I saw you were here and I just wanted to say I’m sorry, like, you know, in person.” Bruce has them seated out on the patio, Martha approving of the fresh air and sunshine, Alfred approving of the visibility. His back was to the wall of the bistro, he has line of sight from all approaches, and the cement planters dividing the patio from the street are big enough to hide Martha behind if needs must. He didn’t need to hide her from Barry. Martha glances at Bruce then looks back at Barry in slight confusion. “Oh! I was, you know, there,” the Flash makes a small whoosh motion with his hand. “That night. Helping out. But I couldn’t get close enough to do anything,” he flushes. They’d made contact with the Flash in the middle of the week, but Doomsday happened soon after. The kid had looked up at the monster, clearly out of his depth and terrified. Bruce had set him on evacuation of the port and containing the damage once he saw the battle was heading back towards more populated areas. Bruce himself had been too busy with the spear and the canister gun— and arguing with Clark over who was to do what— to give the young man the attention he deserved. “It’s not your fault,” Bruce interrupts. Martha frowns at him. “I just feel like I could have helped more.” Bruce shakes his head, trying to make Barry more aware they were in public, “Don’t we all.” Martha reaches over to lay a hand on Barry’s arm, glancing at Bruce, “You were probably where you needed to be.” “It’s probably more my fault than yours,” Bruce adds. “It’s no one’s fault,” Martha asserts. “Clark just has… a great sense of responsibility.” Her eye catches on a lurking mediahound that Bruce had been observing. The woman draws near their table. Bruce’s mouth twitches wryly, “Yeah, he always talks about wanting to be first on the scene.” He tries to subtly signal to the Flash to make himself scarce. “Getting at the truth,” Martha adds. “Being an ace reporter,” Bruce nods. “And speaking of which, Vicky. I’m afraid this isn’t the best time.” Vicky Vale, with the Gotham Gazette, openly dissects the group with her gaze, immediately dismissing Barry as unimportant. The kid finally catches a clue and eases himself out of their company with more discretion than one might give him credit for. “But you’ve practically been a ghost lately, Brucie, the people are curious.” “I’ve been busy.” No, too terse for the Bruce Wayne persona. “I’m… hosting, and I’m tied up in commitments.” “Commitments?” Vicky’s eyes narrow, “And here I am thinking you were just making the rounds.” “The rounds?” Martha echoes. “You know,” Vicky says faux casually, “Being in bed with the fourth estate. He does that, quite literally.” Martha lets that sit for a long second and meets her eyes with a steely gaze, “For someone in the media, it’s awful tone deaf to let bitterness over being a fling affect your interactions with a grieving family.” She sips her tea. “The prognosis is that grim? You consider yourselves ‘family’ then?” Never let it be said that Vicky’s easily shaken. “Considering all that’s happened, yes,” Martha says. “We’re monitoring his status,” Bruce adds. “We’re trying to stay hopeful.” But Vicky’s undeterred. “But they’ve only known each other for two weeks, Mrs. Kent—” “There were only 17 dates in my entire life that was worth a damn; those with Clark make up most of them,” Bruce interrupts. “And Clark’s recovery is—” “None of your business.” Martha replies. “I think you’ve outworn your welcome Ms Vale,” Bruce adds. She measures them, then nods, “My apologies then. And my well-wishes for a quick recovery, if you’ll accept them. I’ll leave you to your meal.” The both watch her leave. “That was incredibly out of line.” Martha fiddles at her cup. “Gotham,” Bruce apologizes. He leans to pour more tea for her. There’s maybe three paparazzi that captures the moment. Martha suddenly pins him with a Look. “Only seventeen dates, you say.” Bruce shrugs uncomfortably. “Tales of my exploits are greatly exaggerated by the media.” “Not helped by the fact that you sleep with the media.” He concedes that with a nod. “So in the eyes of the world, your relationship with my son was just another one of Bruce Wayne’s one night stands?” Bruce bit down on the words that it was more than one night. “The world won’t think anything’s amiss, no. Except for my subsequent reaction now; I don’t think anything with Clark can be classified as ‘just another’ one of anything.” “He’s unique,” Martha’s mouth quirks. “Not just that,” Bruce waves off the implication of Superman, “He… There are very few men of my acquaintance who are so genuinely good that when they are given the ability to do anything at all, with zero consequences, that they choose to give back instead of enacting the worst versions of themselves.” Bruce has seen this pattern over and over, all over the world. Seen it in these wide disparities of power— when there is a lack of consequences being enacted on you— in master and novice, in priesthood and congregation, in free men and slaves. In being unknown also: as a person in a riot, an asshole on an online forum, an unidentifiable robber at night, holding up a family just leaving the theater. Being wealthy and paying your way out of courts and prisons. Or even before that, having just enough people to look the other way. Whenever there’s a disparity of consequences being enacted— be it from anonymity, wealth, or power— corruption and abuse grows. The women that he’d freed more than two weeks ago had survived such a disparity; he’d known that, to the men who’d caged them, the women had been little more than meat. That anything, anything, could have been enacted onto them and none of the women could have stopped them. The same way no earthly being could stop Superman. He’d had no idea, then, that none needed to. “You know, his father gave him that sense of responsibility.” She looks into her teacup as if divining for answers. “Sometimes I find myself regretting it.” Bruce looks away. — (then) “—and if he would only let me help him, he would still be alive.” Bruce had been listening with a pit in his stomach and growing dismayed rage. “Don’t project him onto me.” “What?” “You heard me. You can’t… Is that why you even want me? Am I some sort of stand-in?” Bruce started pacing, needing to move. Was Clark somehow putting him on a pedestal? The idea of Clark looking up to him seemed ludicrous, the idea of living up to that standard exhausted him beyond measure after having been beaten down by two decades of living up to Gotham herself, in memory of his parents. “Of course you’re not, stop reading into things, it’s just—” Clark paused in that way that meant he was thinking. But the idea that Clark needed to search for words suddenly aggravated Bruce beyond measure. “I’m not your redemption, get that straight in your mind. I can’t soothe whatever daddy issues you might—” A large hand clamps around Bruce's wrist. His bones are still intact, but Bruce is abruptly reminded once again of the enormity of provoking Superman. His wrist could be ground to powder faster than he could see it happening, and far faster than he could react. Not that any reaction would be effective in Bruce’s current state, with his current supplies. Bruce found himself saying, inexorably, “Making me accept help won’t make him any less dead.” “Stop.” Bruce watched the thoughts flicker through Clark’s eyes, faster than he could parse. He knew Clark was fast. He was faster than the human gaze can follow, faster than even off-the-market high-speed cameras could register, faster than any bullet. Which means he can move at least faster than 1000 m/s, maybe far more, perhaps even approaching the speed of light. Before Bruce had known Clark, when he’d been at a distance and analyzing Superman through recordings only, he’d presumed that the alien experienced time dilation. In that, as one approached the speed of light, one would experience less time. Less experience. It’s no surprise to Bruce, knowing him now, that Clark broke the laws of physics. That Clark experienced every moment of his speed. It made Bruce wonder how old Clark was in subjective experienced time. He wondered how long Clark was spending within himself to reconcile the fact that Bruce has said something irrevocable. “Bruce,” Clark finally said, like a hammer falling, “I’m not yours either.” Bruce tugged at his wrist in a sudden breathlessness, needing to get away, seeing the shape of the words threatening to barrel down at him before they were even said. “Listen, I get it, but you can’t say that about my father, about me, without realizing that I’m not your redemption either.” “I know that.” Clark blinked. Bruce disliked how he said that, but he can’t take it back. He can’t take back his anger, or the hurt; neither the anguish, nor the resignation. Clark can’t save him, he knew that. He would be trembling at this point, if he were any other man. Instead, Bruce mastered himself like he’d been taught. And lets the moment lay tense between them like air full of fuel. “You can’t make me judge you,” Clark said. He felt himself shutting down in incomprehension, his wrist still in Clark’s grip. “I don’t need your judgement.” “But you want it.” He wanted to live up to Clark’s impossible standards, yes. To have some proof that he was finally getting something right. It was so easy for Bruce to twist so he could grip Clark’s arm in return, lay his thumb on one large vein. Clark’s pulse was racing. “You’re enough. You’re good. You probably don’t want to hear it from me but,” Clark reeled him in until he could fold Bruce up like some sentient weighted blanket. “You’re already—” “Forty-eight people died in Wayne Tower on Black Zero Day.” Bruce said in challenge. “Yeah. I heard them.” Instead of being taken aback and defensive, instead of angry, Clark was only apologetic, “I’m… I’m sorry about them. I figure in the future I could—” “The brands,” Bruce desperately leapt on another angle, “I know you hated them. I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again. I know the names, faces, and history of each person I used them on. I researched them to know how to best to hunt them down. I know their triggers, their fears. I know each person I’ve ever ruined, like I was their family.” Clark’s face was very still. “I heard each of those 48 people die. That day, in total, Zod and I caused 5689 deaths. 638 of them under fourteen years old. Of those over five thousand people, one fifth died slowly over the course of days or weeks due to injuries or complications.” “No, stop. Clark.” Bruce knew these figures and had been using them to goad his anger, but hearing them now, from Clark himself, was nothing that he’d wanted. But Clark continued, unrelenting, “There are maybe 1458 rescue workers I’ve been listening in on... on their lungs. I want to write an article about their exposure to toxins—” “You will give me their names,” he interrupted sharply. “Bruce.” “Their insurance will be covered.” Clark barked a laugh, “How could you not think that you’re doing enough?” “Speak for yourself,” Bruce says into Clark’s hair, letting his weight fall against the shorter man. “Still working on that.” “Then stop throwing stones in your glass house.” “I’m not the one living in a literal glass house.” Bruce snorted. "It's not like I can solve everything by throwing money at it." And then cracked up; and he didn’t know what that was so funny except Clark’s laughing now too, shaking against him, and the moment Bruce thought he'd gotten control of himself, Clark would start giggling again, and then Bruce couldn't stop. Didn’t stop until his lungs felt sore, until he’d felt hollowed with it, breathing hard. And then just existed for awhile, relearning how to breathe again. Everything smelled skin warm. Like Clark has filled the room. “I’m gonna go grab us something to eat.” Clark gently detached himself. “Sure,” Bruce agreed quietly, not looking back. Wisps of fog gamboled across the lake outside the windows. They curled around outside like they were alive, pouring through the grasp of the trees, snuggling up right against the glass as if buffering them against the world. “Hey.” A cup of warm soup was nudged into his hand. A bird fluttered out of the trees and started splashing about in the shallows. A bright red dot. “You know,” Clark said quietly, shoulder to shoulder with him now, cup in hand as well, watching the lake. “I almost feel like a normal person here.” Bruce hummed and absently took a sip. Next to him Clark did too. “But you’re not,” Bruce said. “But I’m not,” Clark agreed. There’s a responsibility to having power, Bruce knew, though not many took up the duty. “I get it,” Clark said. There's a responsibility to not use it, sometimes, too. Bruce looked to the tiny model of the Cave sitting on his side table. And took another sip.   — (now) “This ship’s healing capabilities extends to humans.” Victor murmurs to Bruce as he interfaces with the controls on the Kryptonian ship. “If it was modified. And if you are not asking it to bring a human back from the dead.” The room glows brighter, briefly, twice. “There’s not many that could make use of it.” Bruce counters, watching Barry and Arthur maneuver the rolling hospital bed into the womblike room. “We don’t know how much power Barry can generate, or how much would be left after we revive Superman.” “Barry could activate it more than once.” Victor glances at him. “You could make use of it.” “What.” “You realize you’re operating at less than 50% capacity due to your various—” “Do you have any concept of privacy?” “Do you? I’ve seen what your computers are running.” “Irrelevant.” “It’s part of your gig,” Cyborg concedes, “And this is mine. I’ve run the calculations, if we’re to stop Steppenwolf we need everyone at peak performance.” “We just need Superman.” Victor shakes his head, “I think you’re compromised.” “If I were, wouldn’t I have brought him back sooner?” Bruce counters. “You couldn’t. You didn’t have the Motherbox.” “Exactly. Wouldn’t a fool have rushed in without it?” Like Lex rushed in, unless the monstrosity known as Doomsday was exactly what had been planned. “Everything in this room, it’s not for us to have.” “Well,” Cyborg’s eye flashes, and looks down at the body Barry and Arthur were lowering into the orange liquid. “I guess I’m not the one able to change your mind.” The room pulses, as if in agreement. — (then) “You could have gone harder.” Bruce stretched slightly, pleased. His voice was sore and he was probably bruised all around the throat and chest. The chains that held him up clink as Clark unwound them from Bruce’s hands. Clark hummed absently, all but a negation. “You know I can take it. You can get into it more.” What he meant was, get into character more. What he meant was, I trust you. The last loop fell and Bruce sagged into Clark’s arms. Clark lowered them gently to kneeling on his mattress. Bruce saw the image of them both over Clark’s shoulder, reflected from all sides, on the windows of the lake house. The glass make perfect mirrors at night. Clark’s back rippled with his movements. Bruce hummed against Clark’s hair while Clark kneaded his fingers against Bruce’s shoulderblades, other arm around Bruce’s waist. They were swaying slightly, back and forth, and Bruce didn’t know why but it suited his mood perfectly. Even the way Clark’s come still seeped from his ass felt decadent and just right. “Can I take care of this first, then?” Clark’s fingers ran his fingers across the meat of his shoulders and Bruce laughed a little. “You’re already in the middle of giving me a massage.” “I’m not talking about a massage.” His finger traced a little more pointedly and Bruce realized it was following the line of an old scar. “I can— with the heat vision?— reduce scarring. You might get some flexibility back.” “No,” Bruce sighed. He was too mellow to be strongly upset about this. “What?” Clark’s blink was audible. “I’ll be careful, it wouldn’t hurt.” “It's not about that.” “Then what is it about? It’ll help you help more people.” “Would it really,” Bruce muttered. “What do you mean? Your work as the Gotham Bat—” “Is only really a stop-gap measure,” Bruce shook his head slightly against Clark’s hair. “The people at the Wayne Foundations do better and more effective work keeping those from lives of crime.” “But you pay the people at those charities, you donate to them and raise fundraisers—” “It’s just money, Clark. They do the actual work.” He let out a brief chortle, “If it was just the money, they’d be better off if I’d kicked it sooner. Alfred would get enough to keep him in comfort, but most of my personal wealth is set to go into a trust for the Foundations. They should be solvent for at least a century if not more.” “You’ve already planned for your death.” “It’s only responsible, given what I do.” Superman breathed against him shakily. Then stilled as if in decision. His spine straightened as if crafted from marble. He lifted his face away from Bruce. Smiled as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Said, with with a hard edge of the alien, “You’re going to deny yourself healing? You would deny me this, giving this to you?” Bruce’s tired cock gave an interested twitch despite himself. Superman’s hand met his throat and Bruce struggled against it even as it bore him down into the sheets. Oh god. “You’ll take whatever I choose to give you. Even if you resist. Especially if you resist.” The kryptonian pressed his face against where his thumb threatened Bruce’s jugular and whispered, “Because I know you.” Bruce moaned. “But!” Clark popped back up, wreathed in farmboy smiles, “Maybe later. I’m starving right now and you should really eat something too.” He headed to the kitchen. “Raincheck?” Bruce asked the ceiling weakly, his boner fell back down in dismay but it’s not like they hadn’t already gone four rounds. He’d been coming dry after the first. “It’s gonna have to be after mom leaves. She’s flying in for the weekend remember?” Bruce grunted in agreement. It would be an awkward headspace to fall into while attempting to Meet The Parent for the first time; and she’ll be arriving in a day and a half. Clark ambled back in with a plate of sandwiches and teased, “You set up her up in your own plane. Did you forget the date, or which one?” “I would never.” “Is she going to arrive in something bat-themed?” Bruce glared at him. “Am I going to have to make apologies while you dash off in a swirl of black cape?” “I’m not going to let any… surprises interrupt her visit. Barring emergencies.” “‘Emergencies,’ he says.” “She seems to be an intelligent woman, and have probably already figured me out given the hints we’ve dropped.” Bruce sniffed. “I’m sure she’ll be understanding if special circumstances comes up.” “Let's make sure none come up then!” Clark took a huge bite out of his sandwich. Bruce nodded agreeably, and did the same, already making plans. For the first time feeling hopeful. — (now) Bruce clutches at the small metallic crest that housed Superman’s uniform. Clark had told him the emblem on it, in his birth parent’s language, meant ‘Hope’. Please, he thinks, hand clenching around it as Barry crouches down into starting position. Cyborg in place. Motherbox in place. Body in place. Clark’s body; in golden amber. Please. Barry runs, becoming a streak of light.

Sam wakes before the sun the next morning. He realizes Lucifer is staring intensely at him, a la Dean and Cas, and after a moment registers that Gabriel is plastered to him. "Good, you're up." Lucifer says. He smacks Gabriel with a pillow. "Up, lazybones! Sam is finally awake and we're going on a tour of our brand new house!" Gabriel comes awake grousing, "Why are you up at 5:30 in the morning?! Even the sun doesn't wake up for another hour!" "I haven't slept yet! And I just had three large cups of coffee, so I'm not tired!" "Phenomenal," Gabriel whines, flopping back down onto Sam and thrusting the pillow Lucifer hit him with over his face. Sam pokes him. "Come on, Gabriel. He's probably going to keep fussing until we humor him." "I'm hurt. I've been working on this for hours, and you guys don't even care," Lucifer complains theatrically. "I'm up," Gabriel reassures him, yanking himself away from Sam and snapping his fingers to create a huge cup of coffee. He drains it in one gulp, then tosses the cup over his shoulder. It vanishes with a snap before it hits the ground. "Alright, I'm ready. Let's go. Lead the way, brother." "No, I don't want to now," Lucifer says. He flops down on top of Sam, knocking all the air out of him. "Oh, sorry!" He jerks right back up, sitting on the couch arm so he's off Sam. Gabriel sniggers. "Are you going to make me beg, Lulu?" "Don't call me that! You know I hate that nickname!" "My darling brother," Gabriel says, taking Lucifer's hand and slipping on to one knee, "would you do me the honor of showing me the house we're going to live in for the rest of our lives?" "Are you trying to propose marriage, or see a house?" Sam needs to know. "Both. Definitely both." Lucifer reaches down and yanks Gabriel up, catching him before he overbalances and falls back on his face. "Alright, good enough. Let's go!" "Hold up, I definitely need a shower before we go anywhere. I'm still all sweaty from when the fever broke, and fighting those vamps last night didn't leave me smelling too fresh, either." "I can think of some better reasons why I'd like you sweaty," Gabriel intones. Sam pulls a b***hface at him. "Behave. I'll be back in ten minutes." He darts away to their room on the second floor. Nine minutes later he is back, hair still damp, and yanking on a plaid shirt overtop a black tanktop. "Ready!" Lucifer reaches out, allowing Sam to make the decision to take his hand. After a moment's hesitation, he does. Lucifer throws them onto 'Angel Express' and back out, so they land in front of their house. Their house is a two-story Cape Cod style. The exterior is painted white. It's fairly large, much bigger than Sam had thought it would be. "Oh!" The startled exclamation punches from him unconsciously as he stares at the house in wonder. Lucifer leads them to the door and they go inside for the first time. Off to their right is a door that leads to a three-car garage. There's nothing in there now, of course, so they don't spend much time there. Back in the main portion of the house, there's a small hallway leading back when you first walk in. A set of stairs leads toward the second story, which goes ignored for now. As they go back the hall, they find a living room with a huge flat-screen TV. There's a large sectional directly in front, big enough for the three of them to sit comfortably. Other couches and chairs surround the TV. If you walk through the living room, you come to the kitchen. It's huge. There's chrome appliances everyone, and over half the things Sam sees he doesn't know the name for. Gabriel whoops and runs over to the industrial fridge, which is big enough for him to crawl into. Once he's back out, he snaps his fingers and puts tons of groceries inside. "Breakfast here today," he decides. "A kitchen this beautiful deserves to be broken in pronto." "You cook?" "I've been on Earth for thousands of years. The things I know how to do would probably shock you, Samshine. But yes, I do cook. It's a past-time I greatly enjoy." "Oh." Their dining room table, the next stop, looks big enough to host most of the demons that are currently lodging in the Elysian Fields with them. It might be slightly over-the-top. It's made of oak and fairly sturdy. Gabriel throws most of his body weight on it with a smirk. "This will work great." "For what?" Sam asks, curious as to what he's thinking. "Table sex." Sam makes a scandalized face. "People eat there!" "Oh, I plan to eat there too. I just won't be dining on anything that anyone else will be allowed to taste." Lucifer clears his throat and Gabriel tacks on, "Except you, of course. Or maybe Sam, because I think taking you on this table sounds like a fabulous idea." He finishes this statement with a lascivious wink at his brother. "You're making Sam uncomfortable," observes Lucifer. "Sorry, sweetheart," Gabriel apologizes, wrapping both arms around Sam's waist. Sam squirms free. "Let's just continue the tour." The bathroom is large but unremarkable. There's a washer and dryer in it, along with a toilet and a small shower. "This is the guest bathroom. Ours is upstairs," Lucifer tells them. There's about six or seven guest bedrooms on the first floor as well. "Just in case," Lucifer explains. "I figured we would probably have Dean as a guest frequently, if no one else." They troop upstairs. Apparently, the entire top floor is compromised of their living space. There's a huge master bedroom, complete with large walk-in closets for the three of them. Lucifer also has a few large wardrobes set up. Their master bathroom has a tub that's large enough for bathing about ten German Shepherds at the same time. On top of that, there's a shower as well. Sam stares at it all in shock. It's a nice place, it's a nice home, but there's nothing in it that seems like he would live there. It's suitable, and he'll probably enjoy having his own space, but... "Here, Sam," Lucifer calls. "I made this specifically for you." Sam follows him down the hallway, trying not to feel suspicious. Lucifer opens a door and Sam enters, then stops with a gasp. "Oh!" Lucifer has made a wonderful library. There's a small fireplace with a nice-looking leather chair next to it. A desk is tucked unobtrusively under a small window. And the library itself is...there aren't words for it. The entire room is lined in books, enough that you need a ladder to reach some of them. Sam has never seen a library this large in his life, and now there's one in his house. "I arranged the books by information type. There's lore on demons here, werewolves over here, ghosts, shifters, you get the picture. I got a lot of this stuff on demons from Crowley and Azazel, it's a wedding gift for you from them. There's leisure books over here, though honestly I wasn't quite sure what you read for leisure so I just picked a bunch of random things. Dean suggested some titles, so I made sure to include those, but I still can't promise we got everything. If you think of any you want and don't have just let me know. Oh, and of course you can reorganize anything, I wasn't sure how to set it up so I just guessed. They're arranged by section, then alphabetically by author's last name for now but if you want it any other way I can change it." Sam stares at it with his mouth hanging open. "This is all for me?" "Do you like it?" It's asked uncertainly. "How can I not? It's perfect!" "Thank my Father. I made something else, too, for you. Well, for all of us, but I'll show you yours first." Connected to the library is a bedroom. This bedroom is more decently sized, clearly meant for just one person. It's decorated in navy blues. There is a bathroom connected to it as well, with a shower that is normal-sized as well. Sam turns to Lucifer. "I don't understand. What is this bedroom for? Ours is the huge one, isn't it?" "Well, yes, but I didn't want to assume that you would want to be with us all the time. Gabriel and I can both be a lot, and I'm under no illusions that you want to be here. So, I made you your own bedroom. This way, when you're sick of us and just want to be left alone, you can come here. Ideally, we'd both appreciate it if you kept to the large bedroom as much as possible, but this is your escape place. And I put a shower in so you can be clean without us, too. I noticed you were uncomfortable the other day, so just in case after we get married, you still don't want to see us naked, you have your own shower." Impulsively, Sam gives Lucifer a hug. "Thank you!" he exclaims sincerely. "I like it a lot, and that's really nice of you to think of this." "You're welcome, Sam. I'm glad you like it," Lucifer tells him, cautiously returning the hug. He doesn't want to scare Sam away. "Kiss, kiss, kiss," Gabriel chants behind them, causing Sam to jump away. He had forgotten Gabriel was in the house with them. He scrambles over to the bed and grabs one of his pillows to beat Gabriel with. He gets in one good swing before Gabriel realizes what he's up to, and then he's powering away with his wings. He snaps his fingers with an impish smile, hanging upside down as Sam gets covered in feathers. "You look like a chicken," he provides. "Get down here, angel-boy. I'll make you look like one too." "No thanks," Gabriel replies. He sticks out his tongue. Lucifer has taken the opportunity to fly up behind Gabriel and knock him to the ground. "Get him, Sam!" he yells as he pins his brother to the ground so he can't fly away. Sam grabs a pillow and wallops Gabriel with it. The dumb thing bursts after the second time, and they all laugh as Gabriel is covered in downy feathers. A few make it into his mouth, and he spits them out. Gabriel seems to suddenly remember he is supposed to be protesting this, so he bucks against Lucifer. His older brother is stronger and Gabriel stays where he is, which is convenient for Sam to grab another pillow and beat him with. Gabriel rolls so he is on top of Lucifer, then conjures up his own pillow. "Any last words?" he questions cheekily before hitting Lucifer. Lucifer flips them again as he takes a swing, so Gabriel somehow ends up on top of the pillow he was going to beat Lucifer with. "Never underestimate me, little brother," he play-snarls. Gabriel tries one last time to take control of the fight. He flops back against the floor as Lucifer catches him again. "Fine. Mercy," he says, and Lucifer lets him up. "Thought maybe I'd gotten stronger since the last time," he complains. "Guess not." "You'll never outrank or outfight me, little brother." Lucifer looks around for Sam, realizing they've lost him as they started wrestling together. He finds him quickly- in the library, just staring at the shelves. "Oh, sorry. I got a bit distracted." "You're such a nerd," Gabriel teases, messing up Sam's hair as he ruffles it. "Some people would be distracted by the wrestling, you're distracted by the idea of books." "Is there anything that doesn't turn sexual with you?" Sam gripes. Gabriel shrugs, unconcerned. "My pranks are often not of a sexual nature. Though I could definitely make an exception." "That's fine, you don't have to make an exception for me," Sam blurts, so quickly the words almost run together. He narrows his eyes as he thinks of something. "You haven't done many pranks lately." Gabriel shrugs again, not making eye contact. "Didn't think you'd appreciate it." Sam frowns. "It's a part of your personality." "Wouldn't be the first time someone didn't like a part of me." "But we're getting married. For all of eternity. Don't change that just for me. I- sometimes, I enjoy your pranks. Sometimes they are funny, and in my world we don't get excuses to laugh very often." "Yeah, alright," Gabriel mutters, kicking his feet as he still looks away. A pleased smile makes its way across his face, though he tries his best to hide it. Sam takes Gabriel's face in his hand and gently turns him so he's making eye contact, then plants a kiss on his lips. "If you two are done being mushy, I have to show you Gabriel's and my rooms yet." Sam jumps. "Sorry." "Stop apologizing." Lucifer leads them to another room. This room is the bright and garish spectacle Sam has come to expect from Gabriel. It's patterned in an ugly neon yellow shade, then splattered with other neon colors. The resulting eyesore leaves Sam squinting. The bed is opulent and overly-large, which Gabriel immediately jumps on. "It's perfect!" he decides, as he flies off the bed and hits the wall, laughing all the while. "I love it!" Lucifer is watching his brother with a fond smile on his lips. Without thinking about it, Sam takes his hand and links their fingers together. Lucifer raises their joined hands to his lips and kisses Sam's hand. Sam's entire face is on fire. It's flaming like the hellfire that is apparently now coursing through his veins. "Sam?" Lucifer questions. "Mmm?" "Take a breath," Lucifer reminds him. Sam gasps in a breath, and instantly feels a bit calmer. "Sorry," he mumbles. Lucifer smirks. "Don't be. It's flattering." "Flattering?" Sam echoes confusedly. "Not like I had many people to flirt with, in my Cage. So it's flattering to know I'm doing it right." Gabriel jumps off the bed and sprints over to them. "D**n it!" he exclaims. "Did I miss your first kiss?" "No, I only kissed the back of his hand." "Good! I was going to be really disappointed if I missed that. I wanted to watch you kiss him for the first time." "Remind me to hide in a closet when the time comes," Sam whispers to Lucifer. "That way we don't reward the voyeur." "I HEARD THAT!" Gabriel cries, sounding a bit affronted. Lucifer rolls his eyes. He grabs his brother and hauls him out of the room, and into yet another room. "This one is mine. Nothing spectacular, okay, we've seen everything up here there is to see." Sam barely gets a glimpse of light red before the door is being pulled shut. "There's a weapons room in the basement," he tells them, leading them down the first flight of stairs. In what Sam had thought was a closet in the kitchen is actually the stairs leading to the basement. The basement is painted white, offset by dark wood that Sam thinks might be mahogany. The wood cabinets have glass doors, and many weapons are stored within them- everything from angel blades to guns to hex bags. "The weapons are half of your own weapons collection, Sam. Dean split everything fifty-fifty. He kept the angel blade though, and your knife is over here. The rest of the weapons are a combination of Gabriel's and mine. We have two archangel blades over here that you could grab if you needed them for some reason. I took the liberty of making the demon knife warded so only you can grab it. The archangel blades can only be taken by the three of us as well, that way someone can't come into our house and grab one and kill us." Gabriel balances on one of the dark blue mats for a moment, in a section of the room Lucifer clearly designated for sparring. That half of the room is covered in dark blue mats, Sam assumes so he can be thrown around without getting seriously injured. He rocks back and forth for a moment before launching himself into a backward flip. "I'm starving," Lucifer whines. "Let's go eat." The three men troop back upstairs. Gabriel quickly takes charge in the kitchen, which is good because Sam has been known to char toast on occasion. (Occasion meaning every time he had cooked before.) Within half an hour even Sam's stomach is rumbling, but Gabriel has an amazing fruit platter prepared, on top of egg sandwiches with bacon, sausage, and ham available. He leads them out to the huge dining room and shrinks the table so it's smaller and closer.They eat their breakfast with their legs tangled under the table and their elbows bumping, but it's nice and domestic and Sam actually enjoys it. Lucifer glances at his watch as they finish and swears. "Michael will be looking for us. We need to go, now." Gabriel snaps his fingers so the dishes are clean and put away and sends them back to the hotel. "No, Michael, I'm not leaving until I know where Sam is," Dean's arguing ardently when they arrive back at Elysian Fields. "He could be kidnapped, he could be dead," "He could be standing right behind you," Sam interrupts. "Where the h**l were you? I've been looking for you!" "Lucifer took us to see our new house. We were having breakfast and lost track of time." Michael looks agitated as he says, "There, Dean, you see? Now can we go please?" "Fine," Dean growls, still looking mutinous. Michael throws them all to New York City via Angel Express. Sam staggers and falls to the ground for a second as he tries to get his stomach under control. Dean pukes all over the sidewalk. Cas cleans him with a snap and a disappointed look Michael's direction. "Sorry," Michael offers. "I was too eager to get here." They troop inside the nearest store. "Holy s**t!" Dean squawks. "Michael, what the f**k are we doing here?" "Shopping for wedding suits," Michael answers blandly, tone obviously implying 'duh.' "At Louis Vuitton??!!! Sam and I don't have that kind of money!" "We are to be married, what's mine is yours, and I have plenty of money. Sam's suit is to be covered by Gabriel. So if you're done complaining, please pick a suit to marry me in." Dean troops off dubiously, still looking close to passing out. The security guard eyes him suspiciously as he heads toward the racks. Dean looks at the first suit, then makes the mistake of looking at the price tag. "Michael??!!" he hisses across the store. "Come here!" "What?" "This blazer is $1,200!" "So it is." Michael slips the blazer off the rack and hands it to Dean. "Here, try this on." "I can't! It's expensive, man!" "The whole store is expensive. It's fine. Go pick yourself out something nice." Michael begins pulling various outfits off the racks, throwing them onto Dean's arms since Dean still hasn't even so much as glanced at the outfits. Within minutes Dean has a mound of clothes in his arms. "There. Try them. Do not look at the price. Pick one you like." Dean walks off still griping. "What do you think?" Cas asks, coming out of the dressing room. Sam blinks at him, how did Cas manage to find a whole outfit while he's just stood there and watched Dean gawk at the store? The suit Cas has on is nice. It looks good on him- objectively speaking, Sam doesn't want to throw himself into Cas' arms and declare undying love- and hugs his body nicely. Sam smirks. "Turn around?" Cas obliges him. "Mmm," Sam hums, "I don't know, Cas. It looks a little tight around your butt. You might be able to get away with it, though. I'd ask Dean what he thinks." Cas trots off with a "DEAN! HOW DOES THIS SUIT LOOK AT MY BUTT?" and Sam can just barely hear Dean stutter and stammer over a reply. Lucifer's body shakes with mirth. "He looked fine." "Yeah, he did," Sam admits. "Are you going to pick something, or are you going to be difficult like your brother?" Sam stalks away to the racks. He takes his time methodically going through them, picking some outfits that he thinks he might like. In the end he has about five different combinations, and he hopes that's enough. The first outfit he puts on is white. It's Sam's tongue-in-cheek way of mocking this whole idea, he's dressing himself up as a sacrifice. Or a virgin, which he is not. So, just a sacrifice. He looks pure and clean and completely innocent. Gabriel raps on the door. "C'mon, Sam, I want a show." Sam pulls the door open. "Yummy," Gabriel declares, but Sam is focused on Dean. His brother is dressed handsomely in classic black, but his face is nearly as white as Sam's suit. "No! Not that one, not that one. Anything but that. I hate it!" Sam looks down at himself skeptically. "Really? That bad?" "I like it," Gabriel counters. "I like it too," Lucifer adds. For some reason, Dean seems to take offense to Lucifer's disagreement. He steps closer, until it's clear he's ready to fight if Lucifer dares disagree again. "I said I don't like it." "It's the cut, isn't it?" Sam asks, staring at himself in the mirror. "It's too close to my chest and hugs my arms a hair too tight." Dean looks relieved, as though Sam has given him a legitimate reason to hate the suit. "Yep, that's it. Too close to the crotch and the thighs." Sam arches an eyebrow. His brother is acting really strange. "I said my chest and arms." "That too." Sam frowns at himself in the mirror once more before going back to the dressing room. The next four outfits don't look nice either, so soon he's back out in the waiting area. "What do you think?" Dean asks, arms spread wide. It's a black suit again, with a white shirt beneath. Dean's wearing a green tie that perfectly matches his eyes. "I look stupid, don't I?" "Wow," is the only thing Sam can say. Michael is gaping at Dean, unable to answer, and Cas decides to resolve the issue by climbing Dean like a tree and kissing him until Dean nearly falls. "Castiel," reprimands Michael, and Cas backs off. "I like this one," Dean decides. "Did you guys find anything?" Sam asks Lucifer and Gabriel quietly. "We've had ours," Gabriel says. "Oh. Then why are we here?" "So you could look for something." "I don't think this place is my style." Gabriel snorts. "It's not. It's Michael's, so thanks for playing nicely." Lucifer studies his watch for a moment. "We need to go," he decides, and without another word he is hauling Sam out of the store and onto the busy sidewalk. "Let go!" Sam protests, bothered by the fact that his arm is held like he's a prisoner or a disobedient child. Lucifer doesn't acknowledge him, and Sam tries to ignore the burst of fear that travels down his spine. "Lucifer, let go or I'll make a scene." "Let him go," Gabriel commands, and Lucifer drops Sam's arm instantly. Gabriel rolls whiskey-colored eyes. "You're freaking him out. You're going to ruin our date before it even starts." "Date?" Sam echoes. "Duh. Haven't you always wanted to go to the Big Apple? We're on our first date together, and we're about to miss our Broadway show, so come on!" He jumps out into traffic and hails a taxi. Sam crawls inside next to Gabriel, Lucifer crowding into him from the other side. His head is reeling, but he's excited about the date to come. He relaxes back against the seat and gives control over to the two archangels next to him.

Dedicated to Chris. Go be the best damn doctor you can be. ***** Chapter 1: I sighed, taking a sip of water from the glass on my desk. I picked up my pen once more, scanning the paper in front of me. I was currently going through club paperwork that Principal Finch forgot to give me before Winter Break. It was already near the end of January and we left for Winter Break in the middle of December. The resulting backlog was enough to make Ms. Casarano run away in fear. I felt the same way, to be honest. This was the most vexing thing I've done in a long time, and I've done some vexing things. I scribbled my signature on the bottom of the paper, approving a club's ability to buy t-shirts. Anything they wanted had to go through the administration, even if it came out of their own budget. I felt like it was unnecessary, but since Principal Finch required it, I had to follow her rules. She gave me a little leeway, but not that much leeway where I could shirk my duties. I squinted at the words on the next form, the blocky ink suddenly becoming very blurry. I rubbed my eyes, hoping that it'd clear it up. When it didn't, I gave a groan of frustration, hitting my head on my desk. "Ow." "Chris? You ok?" Stasi's voice came from my computer. I looked up at the screen, Stasi's face staring back at me. Her raven hair was undone, black ringlets framing her sculpted face. Through the computer screen, her soft blue eyes looked at me with concern. "Zaichik? Can you hear me?" She tapped her computer. "Is my mic working?" "Yes. It's working." I groaned. "I'm fine. This is just so..." "Tedious? Monotonous? Repetitive?" She suggested, a hint of a teasing smile on her lips. "Boring." I decided. "This is boring as all hell." "I'm sorry." "For what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "What would you be sorry for?" "Not sure. I'm still sorry. Do you want me to come over? I can help you out if you want... in more ways than one." Stasi said, an impish grin. "I'm fine." I answered, despite my entire being begging me to say otherwise. I wanted her with me. "My parents are home, so if you come over, we won't really be able to do anything... you know. I'll just complain about all this, then you'll end up finishing it for me, then I'll feel guilty, then yaddy-yada-yada, we won't to spend time to ourselves, blah blah blah." I picked my head up, clicking my pen and scribbling my name at the bottom of the paper without even reading it. I didn't care if I just signed my soul away. If I couldn't read it, I damn well was going to get it out of the way. "Awh, Chris." Stasi cooed in her adorable accent. "I don't mind helping you with your school paperwork. Really, I don't. I love you, it's certainly no pain to me to help the man I love. We don't even have to have to... you know..." I raised my eyebrows and she caught on, her smile splitting her face. "Here, we'll do your paperwork. Then we can play video games, study, or do homework. Anything, really, to help you decompress. You only have to say the words." "Stasi, I.." I argued, only halfheartedly. With the true intuition of a woman, she picked up on it, a grin spreading across her gorgeous features. "Say no more. I'm on my way!" She sang, much too fast for me to even give a cognizant reply. She stood up, picked up the jacket that was hanging on her computer chair and blew me a kiss. "See you in a little bit, Chris. Love you." She said, before shutting off her computer. As the video chat disconnected, I stared at the computer screen, a smile spreading across my face. With these things, she just knew that I wanted her with me and by my side. Or, maybe she just wanted me with her. I never really knew with this kind of stuff... except for one thing. "I love you." I said, to the smiling picture of Stasi that was my wallpaper. "Always have." I could've sworn I heard her whisper 'Always will' into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. ***** "This is so..." Stasi began, sifting through the paperwork, her eyes bugging out behind her thick glasses. "Tedious? Monotonous? Repetitive?" I asked, a smirk on my face despite the haggard look in my eyes. "Excessive." Stasi decided. "This is really excessive." "Right?" I agreed. "It seems so unnecessarily bureaucratic." "Oooh, that's a nice vocab word." She noted, kissing me on the cheek. "Good work, lyubov." She went back to examining the paper, sucking on her pen, her fangs just slightly accentuating her cute smile. They got bigger when it was time to feed, not so much now. "No, but seriously... this feels so unnecessarily 'bureaucratic'. Here, look at this." She held up the slip. "Two hundred dollars for a class trip to..." She looked at the paper, squinting at the tiny font. "Where are they going?" "The California Academy of Sciences." I said, recalling the name from my memory. "Holy mackerel! They're going there? How come I wasn't told of this?!" Stasi gaped. "How are they even going to get in?" She was a huge aficionado of science, specifically biology. When she was younger, she always secretly told me that her dream was to create the cure to vampirism, or at least their thirst for blood. She wanted to do that because growing up, she always hated herself because of what she was, of what she could do to me. Her thirst for blood growing up strained our relationship as best friends at first, but we got over it. Once we made the proverbial leap to lovers, I think with my help, she came to embrace that part of her, rather than try and suppress it. Now, I think she just wants to find the cure to cancer. "They got admission because our science department head talked to a few people. Besides, it's for the sophomore honors chemistry class." I said, plucking the slip out of her hand. Stasi pouted and I placated her with a soft kiss. "I'll take you there one of these weekends." "Promise?" She asked, bumping her hip into mine. "Promise." I answered. Stasi puckered her lips and I leaned in once more. As soon as I leaned in, she grabbed the back of my head and forced my lips onto hers, giving me a kiss that turned me into a puddle. When we broke it, we were both gasping. "Oh god... what were you saying?" I breathed, once she broke the kiss. "Huh?" Stasi asked, her pale vampiric cheeks tinged pink. She rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. "Oh. Right, I was saying that this seems so unnecessary. There should be a committee for this. They shouldn't just throw everything at the top of the chain of command." "It's the growing pains of a new school, unfortunately. We'll just have to manage. I don't mind it. It's like back at Jefferson when I was an office assistant for Mrs. Speers." I took the paper from Stasi and scribbled my signature at the bottom of the form, approving it. I set it on the nightstand on the growing stack of forms. "Yes, well, Viktor wasn't." "Wait... what? What does Viktor has to do about this?" "Viktor wasn't an office T.A. You know, he's thinking of running for student office next year. Do you think he'd win?" I blinked, a smile spreading across my face. Being a senior, Principal Finch notified me that I should start thinking of candidates to pass the torch of school president off to. Viktor would certainly be a great school president. Determined, idealistic, somewhat popular, and very kind. All good traits to have. "I think he'd have good chances." "Really?" "Really. Are you staying the night?" "Nyet." Stasi replied. I internally groaned in disappointment, but that promptly disappeared when I looked at Stasi, seeing her smiling back at me. "I only came here in my pajamas and brought my stuff in my backpack for no reason other than to lie here in bed with you, help you with your work, and drive back home when it's super late past curfew." Our security detail, much to our dismay, decided that it'd be beneficial to tighten our curfew. We couldn't be out and about past eight o'clock, when it was pitch black outside. We normally weren't out that late, but the thought that we were being restrained irked us. "They say that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." I noted. "I know, I'm sorry. That was mean." She replied, apologetically. "Of course I'm staying the night. I missed you." "I missed you, too." I said, sincerely. It physically and mentally hurt me when I was apart from her. Having lived a huge majority of my life with her by my side, we were inseparable. When she wasn't there, I felt empty, broken, and miserable. "Now, back to work?" "Let's." She agreed, turning back to the paper. "Why does this have two copies?" "Must be an error." I mused. "What should I do with it?" She asked. "Just throw it in the trash can." I said. She nodded, crumpling up the paper, cocking her arm back to toss it into my small trash can that was across the room. I snorted. "Good luck with that, Stasi. That shot's nearly impossible to..." The trash can made a small ding as the paper bounced off the rim and into the trash can. "Oh nice, you made it." We continued to work throughout the night, putting a substantial dent in the stack of papers that Principal Finch dropped in my lap. Just as I finished the last form, whooping in celebration, my mom knocked at the door. My parents had their own distinguished knocks. My dad was a 'boom boom', like a police officer conducting a search warrant. My mom was a 'tap tap', almost as if she was afraid of disturbing the paint. "Come in." I called out. The door opened, both my mom poking her head in. "What is with all that rack-... oh... hello, Anna. When did you get here?" She asked, warmly. Although Stasi was surprised, I wasn't. I knew from the mischievous glint in her brown eyes that she knew Stasi was here. She was giving us a quick grace period to save our dignity, just in case we were doing anything 'compromising'. "Hi, Susan." Stasi chirped, sitting up. She was taking a quick break, lying down in between my legs. We were watching Interstellar. "I got here around an hour ago. I just missed Chris and wanted to see him. Sorry for all the noise." "Oh, sweetie, it isn't a problem at all!" My mom beamed. "You should've seen Chris when you weren't here. He was moping and sulking all around the place. But, isn't it a school night?" "It's Friday, isn't it?" I asked, checking my phone. Sure enough, the screen relayed back to the three of us that it was indeed Friday. My mom slapped her forehead, making Stasi and I laugh. "Oh, I guess it is! Silly me." As silence overtook my room, she looked around. "May I come in?" "Sure." I replied, pausing the movie. My mom grinned, walking into my room. She pulled out my computer chair, sitting down on it. She looked at my desk, particularly the pictures I had taped to the wall. There were a bunch, no single one larger than the other or taking a better spot. They all had equal value to me. "You all grew up so fast... my babies are about to go off to college." She said, glassy eyed. "Did you two get your acceptance letters to UCLA, yet?" "No." Stasi answered, rubbing her arm. "They don't deliver those until March, I'm afraid." She looked at me, an anxious expression on her face. I knew what it meant... and so did my mom. "You take those thoughts right out of your head right now, Annie. You remember what Mr. Lee said during Thanksgiving? Just because of what you are doesn't mean he'll suddenly change his mind. He's a professor. I'm sure he has sizeable influence with the applications committee." "I'm still a bit worried." Stasi confessed. "These things happen. UCLA isn't exactly notorious for a mixed species student body. What if there's a mixup?" "There won't be." I declared, clutching onto her cold hand. "You're going to get in. They'd be stupid if they didn't accept you. Vampire or not." Stasi softly smiled at me. "Spasibo, lyubov." Her eyes flitted over to my mom. "Don't let me stop you from doing anything." My mom said, happily. Stasi smiled shyly and leaned in, giving me a quick chaste kiss on the cheek. She was always so sexually confident in what she did when we were alone. But as soon as her parents, my parents, or anyone else was in the room, she turned so demure and shy. It was endearing and even a bit sexy. We conversed with my mom for a few more minutes, but when Stasi saw me try to stifle a yawn out of the corner of her eye, she bundled me in blankets and ordered me to go to sleep. My mom was quite happy to agree and I was too. Or so I would've thought. ***** The cold wind snarled and swirled around me, biting at my face, snapping it's jaws at my exposed skin. I didn't care. I was too much in my own thoughts to care about anything at the moment. All I could hear was one thing. Screaming. Horrible, horrible screaming. I stood there, staring off to the distance as everyone ran around me, snow getting tossed up in the air. My heart thumped in my chest as I glanced into the abyss, simply watching. I was too frozen to do anything. My eyes trailed downwards to my stomach, a dark, irregular circle growing on the clingy fabric, hot and wet. I brought my hands to the spot, pressing down on the wound. I got to press as hard as I wanted. I didn't feel pain. I was numb. "Lyubov..?" A raspy voice whispered. Far, far away. Yet so close, as if it was in my ear. I turned my head, squinting through the wintery landscape. My eyes roved across the frozen tundra, taking everything in, until... No. No, god, please no. No, no, no, no, NO. "Chris...?" She rasped again, reaching for me, her broken body on the ground. "Chris..." My feet as heavy as lead bricks, I walked to her... no, not to her. To them. My feet crunched on the snow. I finally reached them, but one person struck out, my body stooping down low to look over her, to protect her, to love her. The one most important to me. Tears were in her eyes, horrible tears that left trails of blood in their wake. Her beautiful face was contorted in agony, her lip trembling. "Chris..." She repeated. Stasi. I tried to say. "Chris!" She rasped. Stasi! I tried to scream. "Chris!" Stas-... I opened my eyes, blinking to adjust to the sudden darkness in the room. I took in deep gasps of air, looking around in a panic. "Chris!" Stasi hissed on top of me, her weight pressing down on my stomach. "Lyubov!" She placed her hands on my jaw, looking deep into my eyes. When she saw I was awake, she heaved a sigh of relief, kissing me on the face, cheek, lips, neck. "Oh... Chris." She murmured, tearfully. "Stasi?" I choked out, tentatively reaching up and stroking her cheek. She grabbed ahold of my hand, keeping it in place on her cheek. "I'm here, zaichik. It was just a nightmare," She whispered, gently. "A horrible, horrible nightmare. You're ok, Chris. Do you want a hug?" "Yes, please." I mumbled. Just as I began to relax, she attacked me in a hug, wrapping her arms around my neck. I clung onto her, holding her willowy frame tight to me. I was afraid she was a phantom, that she wasn't real. But she was. There was no blood, no screaming. It was just us. I clung onto her, my breathing coming out in ragged heaves. Stasi ran her fingers through my hair, simply cradling my head in her arms. "Chris, what happened?" She murmured. "I don't know." I answered. Already, the details of it were starting to fade away, but the image of her broken body for the world to see was going to haunt me for a long time. I pressed my forehead into the crook of Stasi's cool neck, my breathing heavy. My eyes flickered around the room, subconsciously checking to make sure everything was there. My digital alarm clock, my posters, my pictures, and my strewn about laundry. Yes, it was my room. "Do you want to talk about it?" Stasi gently prodded. I shook my head no. "Ok, lyubov." She kissed me on the forehead. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I just want you to know that I love you and I'm still here." She pushed forward, propelling me backwards so I laid back down on the bed. "I'm still here." She cooed. "Stasi...?" I asked. "Hm...?" "I love you." Her eyes closed and when she opened them, her crystal blue irises were watery. "I love you too, Chris. Always have. Always will." She settled down next to me, eyeing the clock. "I'm here with you. Go back to sleep. I'll meet you there. Just sleep." I closed my eyes, clinging onto her like a vice. Stasi gently rocked me, croaking softly. I strained my ear to hear what she was saying, until I realized that she wasn't saying anything. She was singing. It was a quiet and comforting lullaby. Her own version of Coldplay's 'Fix You'. She wasn't Chris Martin but I liked to think she was better. The song struck a chord deep in my heart. It was a song that we both tried to master playing when she was younger, me on my dad's guitar and her on her old family piano. When she finally finished, she kissed me on the forehead, whispering that she loved me in my ear. Needless to say, that nightmare never reoccurred that night. However, it was, and forever would be ingrained in my mind; a wanton phantom of the worst of anything that could ever happen if I continued on my path. ***** It was nice being able to take it easy during the second semester. That meant that Stasi was allowed to come over and stay over more often, and vice versa. Her parents didn't mind so long as she was productive when she came over and her grades didn't slip up. They loved their daughter and were giving her independence. My parents were the same with me. So, come Sunday morning, when my eyes fluttered awake, I found I was the last to wake up. My eyes glanced around the darkened room, the sunlight of the morning unable to filter in through the heavy curtains. Stasi was already wide-awake, watching me. When my eyes found her, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Doboye utro." She murmured. "Good morning to you, too." I replied. "How long were you awake?" "A few hours." She admitted, stifling a yawn. "I didn't... well, before you get guilty, the correct word is couldn't. I couldn't fall back asleep after waking up. Maybe it was vampirism or maybe I was just concerned for you." She traced her nails on my chest, her cold fingertips causing gooseflesh to pop up. "You're not mad that I watched you sleep, are you?" "Of course I'm not... no matter how creepy that sounds. I can't be mad over something you have no control over. Good thing we don't have class today." "Yup. I hate it when I wake up in the middle of the night. I can never fall back asleep and I'm dead during the day, even with my medication. One of the drawbacks of being a vampire, I suppose." She sighed. "All I can say is I don't want to fall asleep in Mr. Coppergut's class again, no matter how much he loves us. He'll probably give me detention." "I'm sorry." I apologized. "For what?" "For waking you up." "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. You don't have to apologize." She said, propping herself up on her elbow and staring at me, with those icy blue eyes of hers. "We all get them. Nightmares, I mean." "It was about you." I blurted. We told each other everything, and the fact that I was withholding it from her hurt her. I saw it in her eyes. She wanted to know, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I bit my tongue. I regretted those words instantly when I saw the flurry of emotions in Stasi's pale, sculpted face. A flash of surprise, confusion, than sadness. "Really?" She asked, her voice cracking. "What was I doing? Did I hurt you?" "No. No, you didn't. You'd never hurt me, we both know that. You were the one that was hurt." I admitted. "Me? How?" "I don't know. You just... you were hurt. Badly. You and everyone else that I love were hurt. Jazz, Lucy, Ricky, Elena, Viktor, our parents. I couldn't do a thing about it. I'm so scared that one of these days, I'm going to come home and find that my nightmare turned into a reality." Stasi breathed a small sigh of relief, so small that I almost missed it, when I said the dream wasn't about her losing control. I knew why. "Chris, nothing's going to happen to me, to us." She declared. "When you were attacked and the judge threw the book at the stupid idiot that threw the brick, everyone knew that we were off-limits. But, really... is that your biggest fear?" "Yes. It's losing the people I love." I said. "You should hear mine." Stasi snorted. "What's yours?" "It's mirrors," She said, bluntly. "I hate mirrors." "What, really?" I asked, suspiciously. It had to have been a joke. A fear of mirrors? It was so stereotypically vampiric. "Yes, really." She confirmed. "I hate looking into mirrors." "How come you always use them to get ready, then?" I pointed out. "Because..." Stasi began, scrunching her nose in thought. "It's complicated, but long story short, you should fear nothing except fear itself." She cracked a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Ah, FDR, " I said. "What he should've said is that you have nothing to fear except fear itself... as well as crippling polio." I was going to hell for that one. Stasi's eyes widened and she burst out into laughter, my joke stimulating her somewhat dark side of humor. Laughter was always the best medicine, and when she laughed, I laughed too. It was therapeutic getting out the details of my nightmare. "Oh, lyubov. That was great." "Thank you, thank you. I try my best. Fear must've been paralyzing for people back then." I bowed my head when Stasi howled with even more laughter. "I like to think that it was as great as the time you fell asleep in Mr. Coppergut's class and snored in the middle of his lecture. It was adorable." That stopped her laughing. Her mouth dropped open and she suddenly looked horrified. "I snored?!" "You snored the last time." I laughed. "Why do you think I poked you so hard in the side. I was trying to save your dignity. "I did not!" She exclaimed, blushing profusely. Her own volume surprised her and she toned back. "I did not snore." She repeated, quieter, but not weaker "Yes, you did!" "I did not!" "Yes, you did!" "No, I didn't, lyubov." She growled in her accent. I was just about to point out that she did, but before the words could get out of my mouth, she bared her fangs, snarling. She tackled and attacked me. But rather than bite me, she did something that made me just as uncomfortable. Her hands roved under my shirt all across my abdomen and neck, tickling me to no end. It might not have been so bad if her hands were warm. But they were delightedly as cold as ice, so by the process of elimination, it was bad. Stasi wasn't particularly strong, but I let her do it, no matter how ticklish I was. I screamed and laughed, going along with everything, doing my best to block her merciless assault, but it was no use. She had the upper hand. Eventually she stopped, her face mere inches from my own, a giggle escaping her lips. She was so gorgeous. The epitome of my every fantasy I had growing up. My best friend. The best thing was, that fantasy was reality. She was here, right now with me, and she was mine. Stasi tucked a long strand of raven hair behind her ears. "Still think I snored?" She asked, her hands poised above my stomach. "No, no, you win!" I laughed. "Good. So I didn't snore?" "No... but hypothet-.." "Nyet!" She cried. "You already said no. No hypothetically. I either snored in AP Stats, or I didn't snore in AP Stats. Which one is it, lyubov?" "I'll just plead the fifth." I chuckled. Stasi rolled her eyes. "Not exactly the answer I would've liked, but I'll take it. Only because you just woke up." Stasi settled back down on my groin, slowly rocking her hips. There was no way she could've missed it. My erection was visible through even the thick fabric of my sweatpants. All because of her. Her tank top and boy shorts left little to the imagination. I wondered if she ever got cold during the night, but she always said I was her furnace and made her feel warm. Her smile changed from contentful to mischievous. "It also looks like someone else is waking up." "Stasi," I warned. "My parents..." "Left for work already. They checked in earlier this morning but saw that you were still asleep. They told me to tell you they loved you and that Sunday dinner is at my house tonight." "Oh, that explains why they didn't come in when I was screaming." I said. "Like a girl." Stasi noted. "Oi!" I exclaimed. "I don't scream like a girl." "Whatever you say, zaichik. We all know the truth." She scooted back and peeled back the waistband of my sweatpants. "Oh, hello." She grinned, wrapping her cold, long fingers around my erect cock and making my breath hitch. She looked up at my face. "I love it that I can make you do this." "I love it, too." I groaned, propping myself up on my elbows. "I know you do." She shifted onto her knees and bent down low, her mouth precariously close to the head of my cock. Her hand slid over the head, stroking it softly. With almost no warning at all, her hand dropped to the base and she engulfed the head of my cock, making me gasp in pleasure. A shudder passed through my body and I had no choice but to drop my head back on the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. If I watched her doing it, the show would be over before it even started. Her tongue flicked against the head as she sucked, slurping noises providing a lewd ambiance. I was on cloud nine, feeling her lips sliding up and down my length, her fangs softly scraping the skin. I opened my eyes, watching my beautiful girlfriend and best friend bob her head as she took me into her throat. Stasi was peering up at me with her crystal blue eyes wide open, smiling softly around my length. With a soft 'pop', she let go, wiping her mouth. "Having fun?" "Lots," I replied. "I feel like I'm going to have a whole lot more in a second, though." Stasi cocked her head, staring at me adorably. "How so, lyubov?" "I just.. I... I..." How do I say this without sounding like a teenage boy that just wants sex? When Stasi saw me struggle to answer, she laughed. "Relax, lyubov. I was only kidding. I know what we're going to do and nothing has me wetter." Slowly and fluidly, like a body of water, she pulled her tanktop off of her. My mouth dropped open when I saw her body. She was absolutely gorgeous. Every inch of her deliciously pale skin was cool to the touch. She was beautiful, from her lovely face, flat stomach, and curvaceous body. "You're beautiful." I said. "Thanks, you are too. I mean..." Stasi began, her eyes widening. I laughed. "Relax, Stasi. I know what you're trying to say." I sat up, pushing her forward softly, until she was on her back. Stasi made a small noise of surprise, propping herself up on her elbows, looking at me with half-lidded eyes. Without a word, I positioned my face between her legs. We had done this so many times, I knew what buttons to push... but it didn't hurt having a game plan. After I sketched out a rough plan in my head, I lowered my mouth to her pussy and did my thing. At first, I was kind of disappointed by the lack of moans and noises she was making, but when I opened my eyes and looked up, Stasi's eyes were screwed tightly shut; her mouth wide open in pleasure. It didn't take long for her to get vocal. "Oh, Chris!" She exclaimed. "Chris, don't stop!" I grinned and gave myself a mental fist bump. With Stasi's lewd noises propelling me, I used my tongue and lips to probe every inch of her pussy, inside and out, making sure to pay close attention to her clit, which was quite swollen. Before long, Stasi was running her hands through my hair, and panting like crazy. Finally, she pushed my head away, looking at me with wide eyes. Her skin was flushed and her breathing was labored. "Chris, that was... oh god.." "That was what?" I said, giving her a cheeky smile. Although I didn't like getting compliments alot, I loved getting compliments from her. "That was..." She panted. "That was alright." "Wait... what?" I asked. "Yep. That was..." She took another deep breath. "That was... alright, alright, alright." She giggled, a fang-accentuated grin on her face. I raised my eyebrow in confusion. "What?" "We watched Interstellar last night." She said. "Yeah, and?" "Matthew McConaughey is in that movie." She pointed out. "And?" I asked, dumbly. "Chris, don't you watch movies? His trademark is 'Alright, alright, alright'." "What?" "Great," She huffed in her adorable accent. "You just made me look dumb." "OH! Now, I get it. Haha, that's funny." "No, the damage is done." She said, crossing her arms and turning her nose at me. "I'm offended, really offended, now." "Oh, Stasi... I'm sorry." I said, grinning. "Here, how can I make it up to you?" "Do you really think you can make it up to me?" She asked, raising her eyebrow. "How are you so sure you can make it up to me?" "What do I have to do, Ms. Sokolov?" "Well, I'm super horny and I kind of really need to be fucked by my best friend who I love with all my heart. So," She pulled me up to her, so the cold skin of her tantalizing breasts were against my naked chest. "Maybe... just maybe, you can make it up to me by solving that problem." "Alright, alright, alright." I said, planting kisses on her face. "Good save." She noted. I was just about to reply, but she cut off my words by sealing my lips in a kiss, wrapping her arms around my back. She broke the kiss before turning around onto her belly, bracing herself on her hands and knees. Reaching blindly one with hand, I guided my cock into her pussy, sinking into her in one fluid motion that made the both of us groan. "Welcome home, lyubov." She gushed, affectionately. "Good to be home." I grunted. "I love you, Stasi." "We say those three words so often... but, I don't get tired of it. Do you?" "No. It makes my heart flutter every time you say it." "You took the words right out of my... oh!" She made a noise as I thrusted forward, her hips pushing back to meet mine. "Mouth. You took them out of my mouth." She said, blushing as I continued to plough into her. "God, you're so warm." Stasi moaned into my ear, panting as I pressed her face deeper into the bed with every thrust. "You're so cold... not that it's a bad thing!" I said. I was already teetering on the edge from our oral onslaught. Despite an orgasm bearing down on me like the grim reaper, I somehow managed to keep all my focus on Stasi. She looked as close as I was. She had turned her face back to look at me and sweat was dribbling down her scalp, plastering her raven hair to her forehead. But her eyes, it was her eyes that made my heart flutter. Her eyes were trained on me, simply staring at me with that affectionate smile and loving, dopey expression on her face. I knew she was close because she was squirming underneath me, her cold body presenting all different kinds of sensations against my hot skin. "Chris," Stasi panted, only a few minutes later. "Yeah?" I gasped. "Oh God, I'm getting so close." "I... I'm close too." She stammered, the accented words tumbling out of her mouth. Her fangs were more pronounced, her pupils dilated. "Oh! So... close!" I was on the clock ever since I woke up and after only a few more thrusts, I fell off the edge. "Stasi!" I cried, feeling my balls growing tight. I came inside her, the intensity of my climax nearly making me pass out. I continued to thrust inside her, making her whole body tremble and soon enough, she arched her back, and with a final cry, she came as well, screaming my name in one garbled mess into a pillow as her body went slack. Finally, I slowed my movements, collapsing on top of her back. "Oof!" She gasped. "You're heavy." "Sorry." "It's OK. Oh, that felt so good." Stasi purred. "Who knew that sex could be so amazing?" I wrapped my arms around her in an embrace and rolled to the side, hugging her furiously. She smelled like perspiration and strawberries, both smells suiting her very much. I probably smelled far worse. We laid there together, simply holding onto each other. It was a while before we said anything. We just wanted to enjoy each other's presence. That's how much we loved each other. We didn't even have to say anything to one another. We were content with being with each other. I, however, couldn't take the silence. "Did w-.." I began. "Sh..." Stasi shushed me, placing a finger on my lips. "I'm trying to listen.." "Listen to what?" "Your heartbeat. It's slowing down." She observed, her ear on my chest. "I just love listening to it. The 'Tha-Thump... tha-thump... tha-thump." Vampires had hearts that beat, but they just beat slowly. Very slowly, in fact. After a moment, Stasi sighed in contentment, looking up at me. "Ok, now you can speak." "Spasibo. Did we ever finish Interstellar?" I piped up. "No." Stasi replied. "You fell asleep, remember?" "Want to finish it now or eat breakfast?" "Porque no las dos?" She breathed, sitting up in bed. "Can you cook this time? I need a bit of a shower. We made a little bit of a mess... down there." "Alright, alright, alright." I laughed. Stasi gave me a look, reluctantly letting go of me so I could get downstairs. "Lyubov?" She asked breathlessly, just as I was sliding off the bed. "Yeah?" I asked, turning back to her as I shimmied into a pair of boxers. My breath was taken away with how beautiful she looked, her pale skin glowing and her chest rising up and down. Her eyes were half-lidded and her raven hair was a complete mess, but she was mine. "Please don't say that anymore." She giggled. "Alright, alright, alright." I said, making her roll her crystal blue eyes. "Never should have made that joke." She grumbled, turning her face into the pillow so I couldn't see her smiling. I knew she was smiling. "Yes, you shouldn't have," I observed. "Do you want the curtains opened or kept closed?" I didn't even know why I even bothered asking. The answer going to be the same. Although she could get burned easily in the Sun (vampires having super sensitive skin and all), it didn't really matter if she was inside. She just didn't like light... but then again, neither did Vik, Elena, Anton, or Yulia. "Closed!" She replied, her voice muffled because it was buried in the pillow. "Alright, alright, alri-... OW!" I cried, as the soft pillow that Stasi chucked as hard as she could hit me on the face. "Dork!" She giggled. Chapter 2: "Chris, this is a terrible idea." Valerian scowled. "I agree." DeAndre declared. "This is a shitty idea." I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. They were being so, so stupid! Is this where the stereotype of an asinine football player came from? I looked back up at all my former football teammates, my brothers, and looked at each and every one of them in the face. "Guys, I'm not sure if you're aware, but this was asked of us directly by the Coven. The least we could do for them is agree." "I'd agree," Mitch pointed out. "If there was actually something in it for me. What even makes you think that this shit will work? Play football with a bunch of kids for a day? Will that stop the police from badgering me in the street?" The entire weight room murmured in agreement. I was seeing Mitch's point. Racial tensions had left humans and monsters more divided than ever before. Something as trivial as this wasn't going to fix anything big. I had a sinking feeling that Anton and Vasili were in over their heads. "Look-" I began. "No, you look." Valerian argued. "This is a joke and they're taking the piss out of us. We're already busy as it is and the Coven wants us to take our time out of our lives to go play with human and monster kids? No thank you. That sounds like a complete waste of time. When they find out that Belcourt is the one doing the training, nobody is going to even go." "Some are, it's during school." Viktor said. "Don't forget. The Coven promised a lot of media there. It'd be good to have something good on the news for once. I'm tired of deliberately avoiding turning on CNN just to see another attack or demonstration. High School football players playing with kids sounds like a nice story." "Thank you, Vik." I said, a hint of a prideful smile adorning my lips. To everyone else, not so much. I took a deep breath, looking at everyone in the eye. "Who thinks humans are the enemy?" Seventy-five percent of the hands of the team rose. Viktor and Ricky didn't vote, but I saw Ricky's hand twitch just barely. "Why?" I asked. "Why what?" Valerian asked. He raised his hand. "Why do you think humans are the enemy?" "Because they oppress us." DeAndre pointed out. "They make us live our lives in fear. We should hate them." A murmur of agreement resounded all across the weight room. I took another breath, my eyes flashing. I was human, for crying out loud! "Nelson Mandela once spent 30 years in a prison cell in South Africa. After he was released, he was ready to forgive the people who put him in that godforsaken cell." "And?" DeAndre asked, dumbly. "He used rugby to unite his broken country. If he spent 30 years in a cell, I'm pretty sure you can spend 2 hours playing football in a park instead of being at school." I growled, growing impatient. "That goes to each and every one of you. To those who don't think that they can play the sport we all love for a couple of hours next week, you can leave. To those that can, shoot me a text tonight saying you can go. That's it." I watched my team take this in before acknowledging me and leaving. DeAndre bumped into me as he walked past me, no doubt on purpose. I simply waved him off. By the time the door closed, all that was left was Vik and Ricky. "I can count on you two to come, right?" I asked. "Sure can." Ricky said. "You coming, Vik?" "Why not? It'd be fun... as long as no D-Toss protesters show up. I don't want to get splattered in red paint again." ****** When the bus doors hissed open, I was the first one up and out of my seat. I stood on the aisle, facing my team. "Remember guys, cameras are on us at all times. Please, please, please for the love of god, don't do anything stupid." I said. I took the murmurs and half-nods as 'yes'. "Ready, Coach?" I asked, turning to Coach Freddy. "Ready." He replied, standing up and stretching. Although we were driving to another part of the city, it was still a fairly long drive. The traffic was brutal, the result of a reinstatement of new checkpoint systems for monsters. It took nearly half an hour for our bus to be fully inspected and cleared to go through. "Alright then... let's go." I said, walking off the bus. My shoes crunched on the gravel as I hopped off, sniffing the cool January air. We were certainly in 'that' part of the city, at a rundown old school that served human students. It was neglected by the local government and it showed with the dead grass, vandalized playground, and mobile classrooms. However, you'd hardly think it was a miserable area because of all the screaming kids running around. "I'm going to go speak with the Principal." Coach Freddy said. "You get the team settled." "You got it, coach." I replied. He nodded and walked off. I looked behind me to make sure my team was following. Sure enough, they were, dismounting the bus in their royal blue hoodies and sweats. All of them. No one backed out, which pleased me to no end and filled me up with pride. Stasi said it was because of my leadership. I think it is because the entire team would rather be playing football than learning at school. "THERE THEY ARE!" A hyperactive child screamed, pointing at us. I froze, my eyes widening as a mob of kids descended upon us, jumping around. You'd hardly think that they feared monsters. I watched, amused, at the expressions of my teammates. They ranged from the astonished, confused, and delighted. I didn't blame them. If you had seventy human elementary school students souped up on sugar mobbing you, you'd be pretty surprised too. Not at the kids, but at being accepted by humans. Taking care not to look at the news cameraman that was in my face, I held up a football. "Who wants to play some football?" I announced. "We do!" The kids cheered. "Ok!" I said, cheerfully. I loved kids and it showed. "Let's get each other split up by positions. Who wants to be on offense?" A flurry of hands shot up and we soon had the group of kids separated into two groups: offense and defense. Our defensive starters took charge of the defense and the offensive starters took charge of the offense, taking them to a secluded field. From there, we placed them into subblocks by position, with each individual player showing them the ropes. Naturally, I was showing them how to be quarterbacks. "Who knows how to play quarterback?" I asked the group of five kids. One hand was faster than the rest. "What's up?" "You throw the ball and hope it doesn't get intercepted!" He squeaked back, making me laugh. "You're half right. What's your name, kiddo?" "Ernie!" He squeaked. He was pudgy and short. Maybe he'd be better in the offensive line circuit, but hey, I was going to take anyone. "Ernie, well, being a quarterback isn't just about throwing the ball. You have to be able to be in charge and have your team trust you. Can all five of you do that?" "Yes, sir!" They chorused. "Please, just call me Chris." "Yes, sir!" It was clearly a lost cause. "Ok, so I'm going to show you how..." My eyes caught sight of someone watching us, a beautiful girl wearing a royal blue baseball cap and large aviator sunglasses. I didn't need binoculars to know that it was my best friend and that she was smiling a smile so large that her fangs were showing. My heart fluttered in my chest, that feeling of being whole once more. "I'm going to show you how to throw." I finished, handing the football off to Ernie. "Let's all get in line shoulder to shoulder. Now, the thing that matters the most if that you should always have a good stance..." Even though I was only to coach them for twenty minutes before we had them rejoin the offence, we lost track of time and went for thirty. It wasn't until Vik came over did that we stopped. "Chris, we're waiting for your quarterbacks." He noted. "Alright, we're on our way." I said. "Come on, guys." "Why's he wearing sunglasses?" Jamie asked. He was a lanky kid, with a throaty voice and glasses. "It's cloudy." "He's a vampire. Vampires don't like sun." I replied. "Oh..." Jamie muttered. "Is something wrong?" I asked. "No, it's just... my mom and dad said vampires are bad." He said, embarrassed. "Do I look bad to you?" Viktor asked. "No." "Then I'm not bad." He grinned, revealing his fangs. I swear, I saw Jamie shudder when he saw them. I wrapped my arm around him, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Jamie. Vampires aren't bad people, at all. They're just like the rest of us. We're all humans at heart." I turned to Vik. "Where's Stasi? I saw her here earlier." "Yeah, she decided to show up. Principal Finch let her leave school early. You two are so lucky that Principal Finch loves you two. She's waiting at the field. She stopped by to see how we were doing. Kind of irked that she didn't bring Abby." "Sweet. Can you take these five and get them set up?" I asked. "Sure. Come on, guys." He said, leading my five prodigies away. They were wary of him because of what he was and it showed. I crinkled my nose, resisting the urge to sigh. Vik was a good... no, not good. Great. He was a great kid. He didn't deserve to be judged because of his pale skin or fangs. I frowned, something that was pretty rare for me to do. Sometimes, you couldn't do anything but hope you left a good impression. With differences and intolerances seeming to have intensified, maybe this would change their opinion, maybe this wouldn't. Perhaps it'd be good PR, playing football with a bunch of disadvantaged kids. Nobody knew for sure with these kind of things. I walked off, crossing the field to where Stasi was standing. She was more beautiful up close. The way her raven hair was done and the way her body fit into her gray jacket and jeans. When she saw me, her face lit up behind her sunglasses. "Hey, you. Aren't you supposed to be coaching kids?" She asked, giving me a kiss and a crushing hug. "Had to see someone far more important to me first." I replied, happily. "You came." "Of course I came. I'm not sure why you're so surprised that I showed up. I haven't missed any of your games ever since we were kids. What makes you think I want to start now?" She retorted. "Even though this isn't really a game. More of an event." She grabbed a hold of my hand and together we walked to the field where everyone was getting set up for a game of pickup football. "How is this thing going? Papa wants to know your opinion." "I think that... this side of the city is more neutral to monsters." I said. "Why do I sense a 'but'?" Stasi asked. "Because there's one coming. I don't know why, but I have a gut feeling that things are going to go bad soon. We haven't had anything that's outright racist other than some kid mouthing off to one of our ogres. We've had some problems with prejudice and uncooperative kids, but they're warming up to us. I didn't have problems with mine, but maybe that's because I had a smaller group." I said. "Maybe it was because you were human?" Stasi suggested. "Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it's because I'm totally awesome." "And modest." Stasi quipped. "Touche. Why don't you give it a shot?" "Give what a shot?" "Playing with the kids." I said. Her mouth dropped open in an 'o' and I knew that her eyes bugged out behind her sunglasses. "Chris," She said. "I'm not good with kids, we both know that. You're way better at this stuff than I am." "Oh come on. There are a few girls here. They're always looking for a role model." "You think I can be a role model?" She asked, shyly. "I'm a vampire." "I think you can be a model and a role model." I declared, giving her a quick kiss. Her cheeks flushed when my lips made contact with them. "But it wouldn't hurt to talk to them. Vampire or not. I'm sure they'd love you, your cute accent, your wittiness, your intelligence, your kindness, and your beauty. The same way that I love you." She beamed at me. Her smile threatened to split her face, her fangs exposing themselves. "Alright, maybe I'll talk to them. If I derail this entire thing, you're taking the blame, lyubov." I decided that I wouldn't have it any other way. Chapter 3: "So, Christopher, you know what field of law you're doing for your project, correct?" Mr. Zasor asked, looking up at me from his desk. "Yeah, I'm doing Civil Rights law." I replied, packing up my bag. I was in a hurry to go see Stasi. We had a free period next, so that meant 45 minutes of doing nothing but messing around in the Cafeteria. "Excellent." He said, turning back to his paperwork. "You're free to go." Despite my love of my Law class, Mr. Zasor didn't rank too highly on my list of favorite teachers. He was curt and always a bit on the condescending side. He wasn't outright mean, but he didn't go out of his way to be nice. Despite all that, he was an excellent teacher. I threw my backpack onto my shoulders, walking out of the class after saying goodbye. I met up with Lucy outside, who was waiting for me. "What'd Mr. Zasor want?" She asked, as we began to navigate through the crowded hallways together to the Cafeteria. "Just wanted to check in with my project to see which field of law I'm doing." I replied. "Why do you always carry your books in your arms?" "No point in throwing it in my backpack if I'm going to take it out after I get to the cafeteria." She said. "That's like saying why make your bed if you're going to mess it up by sleeping in it." I countered. "That's a horrible analogy," She snorted. "Anyways, what field of law are you doing?" "Civil Rights." I said. "You?" "Criminal. Figures that you're doing Civil Rights. You know, when you said that, I think Mr. Zasor felt a little pride for you right then and there." "Oh come on. We all know that Mr. Zasor doesn't feel pride. He hates his students." I argued. "You're obviously his favorite." Lucy pointed out. "Ok, so that's like... one teacher. You and Stasi have a monopoly on being the favorite of every teacher in the school." I said, exiting out into the quad. "That's not true and you know it. I can name so many teachers that peg you as their favorite." Lucy insisted. "Yeah, well... oh, hey Elena!" "Hey, Chris. Hey, Lucy. Bye, Chris! Bye, Lucy!" Elena said, breathlessly running past us to get to class. Her arms were lugging an armload of textbooks and her other hand was holding down her baseball cap that was used to ward away the sun. "She's in a rush to get somewhere." Lucy giggled, glancing at Elena's retreating back. Her blonde ponytail was bobbing up and down as she literally sprinted to class. "She's on her last tardy. Her Pre-Calculus class is all the way across campus from her AP World History class so she has to run to beat the bell." I said. "At least she's getting exercise!" Lucy replied. "Always nice to go out for a run in the morning. I would've but... the sidewalk is a bit rough on my eight feet." Arachne could walk around on their regular feet just fine. Some of them even wore shoes. They especially needed shoes when they were running. Lucy probably would've done that had her family been in a better situation, financially. "I'm too lazy to do it every day anyways." "So true. I can't even get out of bed half the time." "It's probably worse when Annie's sleeping over." Lucy giggled. "How are you two doing, anyways? Perfect, I imagine?" "Absolu-... what the...?" I asked, confused, looking through the glass door into the cafeteria. Everyone inside was frozen in place and Ricky was walking about with a camera, filming everything, Jazz behind him playing something on her phone. I opened the door, walking in with Lucy skittering in behind me. When the door slammed shut behind us, everybody groaned and unfroze. "What's going on?" I asked, my eyes roving around the room at everyone. Ricky swore, putting his phone down. "Damnit. I told you we should've waited." He said. "Good thing he arrived. My neck was starting to hurt." Stasi said, rubbing her neck. She was pantomiming sleeping on a pillow made up of stacked textbooks. "Hi, lyubov." "Hey, Stasi." I replied, my face lighting up in a smile. "But, what were you guys doing?" "We were doing the Mannequin Challenge." Jazz piped up. "The mannequin what?" "The Mannequin Challenge!" She repeated. "You're supposed to stand still and we film everyone and post it on Twitter." "Why do you have to stand still?" Lucy asked. "Be-...because that's just how it is. Now, are you going to do it with us or not?" Jazz demanded. I would like to say that I acted responsibly and made everyone go study. The reality, however, was that in minutes, I was frozen in position pretending to draw on Stasi's sleeping face with a sharpie while Lucy was in the middle of an arm wrestling match with a freshman. All in all, the video actually came out pretty cool. I was impressed that Ricky managed to keep his phone so still, given that he was giggling behind the camera like a schoolgirl. Chapter 4: I steered my car up onto the street, shifting up a gear. It was only days after the Belcourt High School Minotaurs showed up to Travis Saunders Elementary School and we were still gauging public opinion. It was hard to advance the agenda of monsters while suppressing the fear of humans. In short, Travis Saunders Elementary School was on the fence with us. They didn't get a lot of attention from their local high school and when we showed up to play with them for one day, they loved it. However, there was something holding it all back and that was because of what we were. It was frustrating to no end, but the media attention on the event had given the Coven significant rapport in their attempts to shed light on the DTOSA and show the world that maybe we aren't as dangerous as portrayed in pop culture. There was just something attractive about playing football without the lights, the electronics, and the PA announcers. We just played football, the same way we did it when we were growing up. It was like we were all kids again. We had a great time. When we arrived, the entire team was trying to hide their scowls. When we left, everyone was sporting grins. Stasi's was quite possibly the widest of them all. The wide, fang filled grin I loved. When she met the girls, her cold and standoffish exterior made everybody cringe, but it took only minutes until it melted away into her gentle, kind, and friendly attitude that I knew so well. I may be a bit biased, but I think that Stasi was who every young girl should aspire to be. She was super smart, ambitious, and had dreams to do some good in a world ravaged by racism and discrimination. I parked my car behind Stasi's. Parking was never my strong suit. I had abysmal spacial awareness when I was behind the wheel. When all was said and done, I was 3 feet away from the curb. Deciding that I wasn't too away from the sidewalk to get dinged by a passing vehicle and that I couldn't be bothered to fix it anyway, I exited the vehicle, breathing in the cold, afternoon air. Spring could wait. I loved the winter. I glanced at Stasi's car. Her white Mercedes was the same as always, except the license plate was changed. She had to get new ones, ones that specifically identified her as a non-human. All monsters had to get it for their vehicles. Either that or pay a hefty fine. Before I closed the door to my car, I made sure to grab the bouquet of roses, holding it in one hand. Patting myself down and making sure I had everything, I shut the car door, locking it behind me with my free hand. As I walked up the steps to Stasi's front door, I made sure to wave at the parked SUV up the street. Even though the windows were tinted, I knew that they waved back. Stasi and I were becoming very comfortable with our security detail. Before, they watched us like a hawk. Now, they kept their distance, allowing us some much appreciated privacy. Once I got to her front door, I did one last inspection of myself, making sure that I looked half decent. I thought I cleaned up fairly well. I had on a nice pair of dark denim jeans, a black button up, and a elf-made jacket. Swallowing nervously, I leaned forward and rang the doorbell, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. "I got it, mama!" A voice called out from inside. The deadbolt shifted and the door opened a crack. Rather than coming face to face with my beautiful girlfriend, I instead found a bob of blonde hair. "Oh... hey, Chris!" "Hey, Elena." I greeted her, my face morphing into a grin. "Oooh... roses!" She exclaimed, smiling widely. Her fangs were smaller than Stasi's, but obvious nonetheless. "Are those for me?" "No, they're for someone else." I replied. "Figures that you get them for Annie and forget all about me." She snorted, stepping to the side. "Come on in, big bro. The Sun is making my eyes burn." "Thanks, little squirt." I said, stepping inside the cool house. "Whew, it's freezing out there and it's barely any better in here." "Yeah, I know. Hasn't Anna told you that we like our houses cold?" Elena giggled. She cupped her hands around her mouth, calling into the study. "Mama, Papa, Chris is here!" "One moment," A voice called back. Judging from the feminine tone, it was Yulia. Sure enough, Yulia poked her head out of the study. When she saw me, she smiled widely. "Hello, Christopher! Kak dela?" "I'm fine, thanks for asking." I replied. "How are you?" "I'm also fine. Thank you for asking." Yulia's eyes shimmered with mirth. "Oooh, roses! Yest' te, dlya menya?" "No, they're for someone else." Elena laughed, wrapping her arm around me. "Why are you so dressed up today, Chris?" "Well, I was..." I stammered. "I was hoping to surprise Stasi and take her out on a date." "A date?" Yulia asked. "Yes, a date." I blabbed. "I just thought that we haven't gone out in a really long time and I want to show her that I love her alot by taking her out to eat." "Oh, Christopher, how I wish I was younger! Have I told you how lucky Anna is to have someone like you in her life?" Yulia gushed in her accent. "Yes," Elena quipped. "Many times, in fact." "I'm the lucky one." I argued, making Yulia's eyes sparkle in happiness. She was planning the wedding behind those eyes. I just knew it. I kind of was, too. "That may be," She said. "But we all must agree that we're all lucky to have you in our lives. Is that not right, Elena?" "Right, mama." Elena said, squeezing me tighter into her. "Shall I go get Annie?" "Da." Yulia replied. Elena nodded, heading off upstairs, leaving me with Yulia. She simply watched me with those warm green eyes of her, before she advanced on me, her arms outstretched. "Come, Christopher. Let me relieve you of those flowers so I can find a vase for them. They'll look awfully nice on her desk." "Spasibo, Yulia." I said, handing them off to her. "Where's Anton?" "Business with the Coven in the study." She snapped her fingers. "Oh, before I forget! Did you enjoy your little assignment? I was just reviewing the news coverage just now." "Yes, I enjoyed it. The football team especially. We all thought it was a nice way to spend our day, playing football with disadvantaged human kids. Who would've thought that Princess Natasha could've come up with such a creative idea? I thought she didn't like sports." "Ah yes, Princess Natasha," Yulia crinkled her nose in annoyance. She must've shared the same sentiments about her as Stasi did. "I would've thought Josie would've come up with the idea, but then again, this is Princess Natasha's forte. If there's anything she's good at, it's using that major in Communications she earned in Saint Petersburg." I was lost on the second part because I heard footsteps upstairs. My ears perked up and I turned to face the stairs. A few short seconds later, Stasi came into my view, out of breath. When she saw me, her eyes lit up and her pale face, broke into a beautiful goofy smile. My breath hitched when I saw her in her pajamas (even if it was in the afternoon) and fuzzy slippers, the tight squeezing I felt in my heart disappearing. "Hey, zaichik," She greeted. "What are you doing here?" "Uh..." I said, digging my nails into my palm. "Here to see you. I missed you. Come on, let's go." "What? Go where?" She asked, confused. "Out." "Out where?" "Out on a date!" I exclaimed. "Out on a date?" She asked, still as confused as ever. Elena poked her head out from behind Stasi. "Yeah, a date. Not the fruit. A date. You know, when two people really like each other and they-..." "I know what a date is!" She blurted. "I'm just... why didn't you text me so I could get ready?" "I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to take you out because you deserve it." I answered. "Where are we even going?" "Somewhere. It's a secret. Now hurry up and get ready, please... even though you already look beautiful enough." ***** "I can't believe you sometimes." Stasi said, positively bouncing in her seat. "How come you always surprise me with something amazing when I'm feeling crappy?" "I guess I just have this weird telepathy thing with you." I replied, smiling. Weird telepathy thing. Although we did have some sort of weird telepathy thing going on sometimes, when I could know what she was thinking by glancing at the expression on her face, that wasn't it. Right now, it was all Elena. Elena was my informant when it came to stuff like this. Even though Stasi and I had been inseparable since we were little kids and the love of my life since the beginning of the school year, I was still discovering new things about her every day, like restaurants she wanted to try, food she always wanted to eat, cool stuff she learned on the internet. The works. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life." She said, putting her cold hand on my jaw and kissing me on the cheek. "God, I love you so, so much." "I love you, too." I sighed, looking at her once I stopped at a red light. "I'm not sure how I got so lucky to have you either. I'm loud and pushy and obnoxious sometimes. You're beautiful, smart, witty, and amazing. Why would you ever want someone like me?" "Chris," Stasi said, furiously. "Don't ever say that. You're perfect. You're perfect for me. You're generous, you're kind, you make everybody around you laugh. You give me your blood, you're everything I could ever ask for. You're perfect, you hear me?" "You're uh... you're perfect too." I said, tentatively, looking at her. Even though it normally took a really long time for her to get ready, she only took minutes now. She looked beautiful, with her done up raven hair, jeans, white blouse, sunglasses, cream colored scarf, and excessive sunscreen. "You look amazing." "You don't look so half bad yourself." She murmured. "But something is off." "What?" I asked, alarmed. "Something..." She leaned her head into my neck, her hot breath making me shiver. Thinking she was about to kiss me or suck on the skin, I tilted my head to the left ever so slightly. Imagine my surprise when she just sniffed my neck, making me gasp in surprise. She sniffed again and again, taking deep inhales. "Old Spice? You're using Old Spice?" "Yeah, I am. It smells good,doesn't it?" "Why are you using Old Spice?" She asked, raising her delicate eyebrow. "You said that Axe gave you headaches," I said, defensively. "Remember?" "Yes, I remember. But, you switched deodorants for me?" She asked, her face splitting into a fangy grin. "First of all, it's actually body wash and yes, I did switch for you. I'd do anything for you, you know that." I replied, my face burning. "I'd do anything for you, too." She breathed, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. I loved it when she blushed. It was easy for her to do that now that she fed and had her fill. Our last feed session last weekend went well. We experimented and instead of from the jugular, we tried the wrist. It took away the sense of helplessness that I had, being able to watch her in front of me. "Anything. Just say the word, and I'll do it." "Even if it was my homework?" I chuckled. "Yeaaaaaa-... no. That I would not do. You can do your own homework." She giggled, settling back in her seat as the car started moving. She hummed along to the radio, before turning back to me once I hopped on the freeway. "Papa wanted me to tell you that he's really proud of you, you know." "Huh?" "For what you did with the kids. He said it was the nicest thing he ever saw on TV in a while. Granted, it was only local. But it's a start. I'm proud of you, lyubov." "I'm proud of you, too." I replied, focusing on my driving. Saturday afternoon traffic in San Francisco was abysmal. It was a good thing I was driving and Stasi wasn't. She had some serious road rage that was prone to screaming and swearing in Russian whenever she was cut off or in some serious traffic. It was a while before we spoke, the both of us simply focusing on what was going on around us and sneaking adorable peeks at each other. However, when we got close to our destination, Stasi spoke first. A tentative, restrained voice bubbling with excitement. "Lyubov? Where are you taking us?" "What restaurant did you always want to have for dinner?" I asked. "No!" She gasped. "You're taking us there?" "Uh huh. We're going to Frances." I declared, wincing internally when I said Frances. Frances was one of the best restaurants in the city. It wasn't high-class. It was actually super compact and small, with some hard-to-get tables. It was expensive too, but it was all worth it, because it was for the woman I loved. Besides, I heard the food was good. "No way." Stasi squealed. "Yes way." I replied. She gave a cry and leaned over the center console, grabbing ahold of my head and giving me a kiss on the cheek, a pretty dangerous thing to do in a moving vehicle. But, since we were in bumper-to-bumper traffic... I'll let it slide. The reason Stasi and I were so excited is because we never went to five-star restaurants when we went on dates. Rather, we spent hours combing through the city, looking for the best hole-in-the-wall restaurants to eat at. We were firm believers that it was the 'ghetto' places that served the best food. But hey, we liked to spoil ourselves. Finally, after creeping forward for another mile, traffic began to lighten up and we were on our way. It only took us ten minutes to get to Frances and find parking. While that was happening, Stasi was absolutely beside herself, smiling widely and squeezing my hand tightly. God, I loved her so much. "Alright, we're here." I said, turning to Stasi. "Ready to go?" "Yeah, let me just... U vas yest' chto-to na vashikh gubakh." She replied, shyly. "I do?" I asked, reaching up to brush whatever I had on my lips. "I don't have anything on my lips." "Yep. You do." She leaned forward and took ahold of my hand with her cold one, pulling it away from my face. She ended up giving me a kiss that turned my brain into a puddle. When she finally broke it off, the both of us were tinged pink and breathing rather heavily. "There... I think I got it." "You sure?" I breathed. "Not really. I'll have to check in every once in awhile." "Wouldn't have it any other way. Shall we enter the restaurant, Ms. Anastasia Sokolov?" "We shall, Mr. Christopher Williams." She giggled, exposing her fangs. I let go of her freezing cold hand, regretfully. Maybe I was being a little too clingy... we were right next to each other and I was still feeling as if that wasn't close enough. I loved this girl with every fiber of my being so much that being away from her made me miserable. It made my heart wrench to have her away from m-... oh hey, we're holding hands again. It was like we were a normal couple out for dinner. A couple where me being human and Stasi being a vampire didn't matter. No DTOSA, no racial tensions. Just a normal couple in love with each other. We walked away from the car and onto the sidewalk, simply pressed against each other. There was no city quite like San Francisco, with it's unique architecture and location. I loved this city so much. Even with all the problems, it was my city. It was our city. I opened the door for her once we arrived at the restaurant, letting her enter in first and warm up. I followed in after her. The inside of Frances was extremely compact, providing a very intimate and cozy atmosphere, not unlike Scaletta's. But where Scaletta's had a nice cluttered charm to it, France's was neat and classy. "Hi!" The hostess chirped at the both of us. "Table for two, it looks like?" "Yes, ma'am." I said. I always talked with the host. I was the one to always initiate conversations. I did the talking, Stasi did the listening. We were a team that way. She wasn't a big people person. "I'm sorry, sir. It's going to be a two hour wait." She said, apologetically. "I have a reservation." I said, rather quickly. I crossed my fingers behind my back, praying that there wasn't some hiccup in the system. "Oh! Right on." The hostess said, checking the ledger. "Say, do I know you from somewhere?" "No, I'm not sure." I laughed. "When did you go to high school?" "Long time ago, I'm afraid." She replied. "I swear I've seen you before." Her smile wavered when she got to the bottom. "I have a table for two for... Christopher, it looks like?" "Yep, that's me." I said. "Come with me." She said, stiffly, picking up two menus. I followed her, slightly uneasy. The main reason I picked this place was because it was supposedly integrated, that means both humans and other species were allowed to dine here. "Chris?" Stasi asked, behind me. "It's fine." I murmured back. "Here we are." The hostess mumbled, arriving at our table. It was small, tucked away in the corner. Nice and private. She waited for us to take our seats, before handing us our menus. She gave me mine without a word, but when she handed one to Stasi, she whispered something that made the both of us freeze. "Leech." She hissed. My eyes widened. Calling a vampire a leech was an insult. It's derived from worms that suck blood out of you, but the word became an insult when it was associated with gangs of vampires who abducted humans and farmed them for blood. Strictly illegal, of course, but the word itself became known as an insult. "Excuse me?" I asked, looking at Stasi out of the corner of my eye. Her lip slowly quivered and she looked down at her plate in sorrow. "You heard me, traitor." She replied, stalking off. I watched her retreating back, before turning to Stasi. Not only did she look horrified, but she looked like she was about to cry. I'd move heaven and earth to take pain away from her. Just looking at her like this made my heart break. "Hey, hey." I said, soothingly, placing my hand over her cold one. "What's wrong?" "She called you a traitor." Stasi mumbled. "Didn't you hear her?" "I was kind of getting over the leech part. What kind of woman does she think she is?" I said, irritated. "I don't care about that, lyubov. I'm used to getting called that." She said, cracking a weak smile. She was putting up her walls again, her defenses that only I could penetrate. "It's fine, really. I just... I feel wretched." "Wretched." I gaped at her. "Why?" "Because you're stuck with me." She said, tearfully. "Stasi, I'm not stuck with you. God, I love you! Why would you ever think that?" "I don't... I don't know." She mumbled. Her eyes trailed to over my shoulder and I looked, turning my head. The hostess was furiously whispering to a male waiter, pointing in the direction of our table. "Do you think they're going to spit in our food?" She asked, cracking a shy smile. Ah, she was following the Christopher Method for Stressful Situations. Crack a joke when you feel stressed out. "I wouldn't put it past them." I chuckled, squeezing her hand. "Don't worry, it'll be fine. I'll light them up on Yelp otherwise." "No, it's just... we're supposed to have fun on a date, right?" "Yeah." "Chris," She said, looking at me in the eye with those beautiful crystal blue orbs of hers. "I don't think I'm going to have fun here. The food is probably going to be amazing, but it's going to be expensive and after what she called us, I'm not sure if this restaurant is going to be so friendly to us. Do you just want to go somewhere else and pig out there?" I breathed a subtle sigh of relief. I'm sure my wallet heaved an even bigger one. "Scaletta's?" "Scaletta's." She beamed, leaning forward and giving me a kiss. ****** When the bored Giovanni Scaletta saw us walk into his lonely restaurant for dinner, all dressed up for a date, he sprang into action, taking us to a very comfortable and plushy booth tucked in the 'Belcourt' corner of the restaurant. Since Giovanni's was a well-known hangout for Belcourt students at the Pacific Mall, the area reserved strictly for students at our high school. It even fit the decor, with the royal blue wallpaper and hanged up memorabilia. Of course, there wasn't a lot, considering it was only our first year, but it had a few pictures and a jersey signed by the entire basketball team up. Giovanni shipped out his food (delicious as always) and left us for the remainder of our date, leaving us in our own little love-filled world. I loved Giovanni's food. It was tasty and decadent, not greasy like some other places we ate at. Stasi and I were massive foodies. We liked our fast food, but we hated greasy stuff. We shouldn't have to put on a hazmat suit or contact the CDC for clearance to enjoy a piece of meat. "Oh, that was so good." Stasi moaned, setting her fork down and leaning on the wall, looking absolutely adorable. She closed her eyes wistfully. "Yeah, I know. I could practically smell the food emancipating from the kitchen." I replied. Stasi opened an eye, raising an eyebrow at me. "What?" "What?" I asked. "You said emancipate." She said. "Yeah? So?" "It's supposed to be 'emanate.'" She said. "What? No, it isn't." I asked, flabbergasted. "It's emancipate." "It's emanate." She insisted. "No, it is-..." "Zaichik, I promise you, with all my love. It's emanate." "Well," I began, my mind racing to find the definition of emancipate and emanate. It's supposed to be emancipate, right? Now that I think about it... "I'll look at a dictionary when I get home. But did you like the food?" "It's emanate, but I loved the food, as always! Way better than that place we were going to eat at earlier." "Frances?" I chuckled. "Yes, Frances. The restaurant with a racist hostess." She crinkled her nose. She closed her eyes, moaning. "Definitely going to go into a food coma." "I love you." I blurted. She opened an eye, the crystal blue breaking through the fringe of raven. "Where did that come from, lyubov?" She asked, smiling widely. "Nowhere. I just wanted to say it." I admitted. "I love you, too, Chris. Always have." "Always will." I declared. I picked up the dessert menu. "Want ice cream?" "Uh..." Stasi hummed, suddenly looking bashful. "I don't think so. I think that ever since volleyball season ended, I've started to get fat." I glanced at Stasi's figure, my eyes running over her delicious curves. She was still as slender as always. "No, you're definitely not getting fat." I laughed. "It seems like you're getting more beautiful every day. If you want, you can always come running with me in the morning." That made her blue eyes sparkle in happiness. "Well, in that case... I think I will get ice cream, then. Will you finally get some?" She asked, sticking out her bottom lip and pouting. "Uh..." I stammered. During sports season, I wasn't allowed to eat anything unhealthy, especially with our team so close to clinching the playoffs. It was recommended by my coaches and enforced by Stasi. She was the one who meticulously watched my diet and quite literally examined every crumb entering my body. If she was the one asking me to get it... maybe... just maybe... "Maybe a little." I decided. It wasn't a hard choice to make. I loved ice cream. Well, I only really liked soft serve and gelato. It was a good thing that was what Scaletta's served. Good old soft serve ice cream and gelato. Normal ice cream just never caught on with the both of us. "Glad to see you come over to the dark side." Stasi said, putting a hand on the dessert menu I had in my hands and setting it down. "Have you started on that report for Gov, yet?" "Not yet, no." I admitted. "I should really start it." "You should." Stasi agreed. "Why is it that I'm always worrying about you, zaichik?" "You have a bit too much free time on your hands, that's why." I laughed. "You're right." Stasi said. "I do have a bit too much free time on my hands. Maybe i'd have less free time on my hands if you stopped shouldering the entire burden of school president, being the best student you can be, and an athlete to boot." "You have your own job to do, Ms. Vice President Sokolov." I said, pointing my finger at her. She wasn't really the vice president. In the same way that I just hopped into the position instead of being voted in, Stasi just eased herself into the role with my gentle prodding. She and Lucy helped out so much that they were unofficially given official positions. "You're in charge of all the clubs now, remember?" "Yeah, I guess I am now." She thumbed the menu, absentmindedly. "We make a good team, don't we?" "We do." I said, leaning forward and giving her a quick kiss. "We make the perfect team." Stasi reached forward and held onto my hands and simply just stared at me with those half-lidded eyes and that beautiful goofy grin exposing her fangs. I probably had the same dopey expression on my face. We were just so in love and in our own little bubble. "Thank you, Chris..." She whispered in her heavy accent that I just loved. "For everything." "No, Stasi..." I replied, my voice taking on a husky pitch. "Thank you, for everything." "Sorry to interrupt," Emily said, sheepishly, destroying our little moment by showing up. "Do you guys want dessert? It's on us." "Yes, we do." Stasi said, quickly, backing her face away from me. She fumbled with the dessert menu, glancing inside of it. "We'll pay, though, don't worry." "Nope. The dessert is on us, Annie. It's standard for Belcourt students, not just for the golden boy and girl of Belcourt. You guys are in the clear. Besides, we always do free gelato this close to the full moon every month anyways. Do you two want another look at the menu?" "Well, in that case, I'll have the vanilla gelato." Stasi replied, blushing at the words 'golden boy and girl'. "I'll have a scoop of the cream flavored." I piped up, also tinged pink. "Great," Emily nodded, refilling our waters. "Anything else." "N-... oh! Can you make the vanilla gelato half-melted?" Stasi asked, slightly self consciously. She liked her ice cream that way. It was common for her to toss her bowl in the microwave for a quick zap before she ate it. I never found out why, but some things are just meant to be. "Okay..." Emily said, a mirthful smile adorning her face. "Is that it?" "Yep, I think that's it. Thanks Em." "No problem, Chris." She chirped. "Anything for my favorite couple." ****** Many people (specifically Monster Right Groups) say we're their favorite couple, a bridge between two different species. We get this from almost everyone at school, our families, our friends. The kicker was that despite all the mass racism, Stasi and I were far from being the only interspecies relationship out there. Vik and Abby, for example, weren't the same species, being a vampire and a mermaid respectively. I'm actually sure it wasn't as rare as people liked to think it was. It was just rare for it to be portrayed on the media so much. If we were human, would we still be the favorite couple of everybody? Or were we just their favorite because of how 'unorthodox' we were? Kind of leaves you guessing, doesn't it? "Huh?" Stasi asked, her eyes glued to the TV. "What?" "You said something." She said. She was sticking out her tongue in concentration, all her attentions focused on what was going on on my TV. It was actually super cute and very adorable. "I did?" I asked. "Did you think aloud, again?" She asked, looking at me with those beautiful crystal blue eyes of hers. "N-... did I? I did, didn't I?" "Yes." She giggled. "Ok, I probabl-... watch out." I said, nudging my head towards the TV. Stasi snapped her head towards the TV and gasped. "Shit!" She swore, but it was too late. Peyton Manning was sacked onscreen for a loss of eight yards. Stasi groaned, setting the XBox controller down. She covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes screwed tight in thought. "4th and 28." She mumbled, opening her eyes. "Should I go for it or punt?" "It's Madden." I chuckled. "Good point, zaichik." Stasi said, picking out the next play. "I'm going for it." Growing up, my dad exposed the both of us to the great sport of football. She didn't quite love it as much as I did, but we still loved it nonetheless. We loved a lot of things, whether it be food, videogames, each other... we never did really try anything growing up without the other. It just didn't work that way. I watched the play develop, Peyton Manning trying to find his target. "Gronkowski is open." "Ya znayu." Stasi replied, her eyes glued to the TV. "Gronkowski is open.." I repeated. "Ya znayu." Stasi replied. "He's... like really open." I said. "I know!" Stasi said, before passing the ball to Dez Bryant. The ball sailed through the air, flying towards the virtual receiver. He had his hands outstretched and the ball looked like a surefire catch until... "And... he drops it." Stasi complained, tossing the controller in frustration. "Gronkowski was open." I laughed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "It's the effort that counts though. At least you're still up." "Yeah, by a field goal." She grumbled. She would've looked irritated had a smile not been creeping at the corner of her mouth from where I kissed her, exposing her fangs. "I'm at my own twenty four. Why'd you make me go for it on fourth down?" She asked, pausing the game to look at me. "I didn't make you," I argued. "I just said 'It's Madden'. You went for it on fourth down all on your own." "Why'd you let me?" She countered. "You weren't going to listen to me, anyways." I said, rolling my eyes. "You're the most stubborn person I know." "Stubborn?!" She hissed, indignantly, baring her fangs. "Stubborn?!" "Yes, stubborn. You would've gone for it even if I begged you not to." "No I wouldn't." She insisted, rolling over me and straddling me, making my pants suddenly feel awfully tight. We hadn't bothered to change. We just wanted to hop right into bed to relax. I looked up at her, a huge smile on my face... a smile that mirrored hers. "I wouldn't have gone for it if you had told me." "Yes, you would've." I said. "No, I wouldn't have." She said, moving her face close to mine. "Yes, you would've." I mumbled, my eyes boring into hers. "No, I wouldn't have..." She whispered, inching her mouth ever closer to mi-... Avicii's 'Levels' blared throughout the room and Stasi jumped from me as if she was burned. She looked at my phone, startled, which was buzzing away on my nightstand. I groaned. Of course I get a call when things were about to get good. I simply stared at it before reaching for it, finding my hand just shy of my phone. "Too far." I said, deciding that Stasi 'pinning' me down was enough of an excuse for my laziness. "You should answer it," Stasi said. "It could be important." "I think I'll... I think I'll let it go to voicemail." I said. All my attentions were on Stasi tonight. We had a fantastic date and I wanted it to end with just us. I knew that if I answered the phone, something important was going to happen.The only times I ever received a call anymore was from Stasi or if it was serious.. And Stasi was right here... "Fine, I'll get it." Stasi grumbled. "Stubborn as always." "Hey!" I exclaimed. "I'm not stubborn." "Just lazy," She snatched up the phone, looking at the contact ID. From the way her expression changed, I knew I had been right. "It's the school..." "Huh?" I sat up straighter in bed, holding my hand out for the phone. "What does the school want at this hour?" "I don't know." Stasi replied, pressing answer and handing the phone off to me. I looked at it, before placing it on my ear. Chapter 5: The school was ten minutes away. I got us there in five. Before the car was even fully parked, our doors were open and we were hurrying into the school. I wrapped my arm around Stasi, holding her tight to me. Although she was bundled up in a jacket and scarf, she was still shivering. "You ok?" I asked, my teeth chattering. "Yeah, just a bit... cold." Stasi replied, resting her head on my shoulder. "Don't worry, you're keeping me warm, though." "Let's hurry up, then." I huffed, speeding up my walking. In no time at all, we were at the front door to the school. Rather than use traditional keys, the school ran on identification cards that they scanned on the doorknobs. It was pretty high tech stuff. Only the teachers had the ability to unlock doors, but thankfully, Principal Finch left it unlocked so we weren't left in the cold. I pulled the door open, being met with a wave of heated air. We both filed inside, gasping in relief. "Whew..." Stasi breathed. "She said her office, right?" "Yeah. Why do you think she wants us to be here this late on a Sunday?" Stasi shrugged. "No clue, but we're about to find out." We both navigated past Ms. Casarano's desk to the brain of the high school, the administration section. We knew where all the offices were and who occupied them by heart, so we just made a beeline for Principal Finch's office. She was inside, along with another person. Stasi knocked, a quiet 'tap tap', and waited. In no time at all, the door was opened, Ms. Euthixie greeting us, a grim look on her face. A far cry from her contagious and preppy nature. "Ms. Euthixie?" I asked. "Hullo, Chris." She replied. "Annie.." "Hi, Ms. Euthixie." Stasi said. "What are you doing here?" "That's a question that I'm sure Principal Finch would be happy to answer, right?" Ms. Euthixie said, turning around. "Correct." Principal Finch said. "Come in, you three." Stasi and I walked in. There were only two chairs in front of Principal Finch's desk. I stood at the back, letting Stasi and Ms. Euthixie sit down. Both mumbled their thanks. I simply nodded, focusing on Principal Finch. Although she was strict and to the point, she was something else today. Rather, she was haggard and... scared? "Hello, Christopher." "Hello, Mrs. Finch." I replied. "How are you?" "Adequate." She said, curtly. Not a good sign. "I'm sorry to hear that." I said. "It's not because of you. How are you, Annie?" "I'm great. Thanks for asking, Mrs. Finch." Stasi replied, clenching her hands on her lap. "You both look dressed up today. Was I interrupting something?" "We went out for dinner." Stasi admitted. "It was fun." "Oh really? Where did you two go?" "We went to Scaletta's. It's a restaurant over by the Pacific Mall. Emily's family owns it." "Ah yes, Scaletta's. I was always hoping to try it one of these days." Principal Finch said, drumming her fingers on the desk. "Do you know why I brought you two in tonight on a weekend?" We both shook our heads, making Principal Finch smile hollowly. "As I suspected. Teenagers don't check the news while you're out having fun." She turned to her keyboard, swiveling in her chair. She typed something into the browser. "This just happened this afternoon. It's breaking news all over the country." She turned the computer monitor towards us, playing the news article. We both watched intently, before Stasi's eyes widened. "No..." She gasped. Everything we did just went up in smoke. There was a video, but Principal Finch didn't even bother playing it. We didn't need a moving picture to know how serious this was. The main headline was in Los Angeles, where a young werewolf boy was gunned down by the police for running away. "There's already multiple Monster Rights Activist groups swearing revenge," Principal Finch said, solemnly. "There are so many groups in this city alone that are already suspected of indoctrinating students at this school. Chris, you're going to have to do something." "Like what?" I asked, my heart thudding in my chest. "I don't know." She admitted. Chapter 6: When we arrived at school the next day, things were tense to say the least. Everyone seemed to want to steer clear of me in the hallways. Even Mr. Coppergut, who proclaimed me as his favorite pupil, seemed distant and curt. When he was taking attendance, rather than say my name, Chris, he just said 'Christopher'. That might not seem like a big deal, but it was to me. All my friends called me Chris, strangers called me Christopher. It was like calling Stasi her full name. Whenever I did that, something was really wrong. At lunch when I walked into the cafeteria, it seemed that everything went into a standstill. Eyes bored at me from everywhere. Rather than acknowledge them, I just kept my head down, walking towards our table. To my right, I saw the Nguyen Pack engaged in a heated debate with Vincent and Brenda Nguyen. The respected Alpha and Betas, holding court. Wolf packs had a strange hierarchy. The larger ones were more complex, but the ones at our schools, which were simply friends who banded together, were simple. At the top was the Alpha, bold and dominant. The next rung in the ladder was the Beta, the second in command. Both Vincent and Brenda were siblings. They were normally nice and easygoing. Not today, though. I stared at the Nguyen Pack too long and Greg Huynh caught sight of me. His eyes flashed and his mouth broke into a sneer. Ever since I stopped him and his little trio from bullying the human boy, he's had it out for me. I wasn't too bothered by it.. I had a duty to keep an eye on every person at this school, him and his little gang included. We steered clear of each other, but that didn't stop the glares and balled fists from happening. I walked to my table, setting my stuff down next to Stasi. "Hey," I murmured, kissing her on the cheek. "Sorry I took so long. I had to talk with Ms. Euthixie again." "About the stuff that Mrs. Finch is going to say on the intercom?" Lucy piped up. I nodded, glumly, breaking open my tupperware of pasta. "Hey, Chris," Lucy said. "You ok?" "Yeah," I replied, stabbing a piece of alfredo. "I'm fine. Just a bit stressed out. Greg was giving me a few looks on the way here." "You should watch out for him, amigo." Ricky said, biting into his meal. "The last I heard of him, he and his little band of banditos were influenced by the Iron Front." "The Iron Front?" Jazz asked, puzzled. "It's a faction in the Coven." Stasi said, bitterly. "A not-so-good faction in the Coven." The Coven was just like a Congress, except rather than having the two main parties, Conservative and Liberal, they were made up of many smaller parties. These parties all made up the actual Coven. The actual Coven had little influence in 'actual' politics. The Coven was considered a third party in normal politics, but they solely represented the views of other species. The definitions were really loose and it hurt my mind to really decipher it. Anyway... the Iron Front was the second largest bloc in the Coven, only second by a sizeable amount of members to the Tarasenko Bloc (which was headed by Vasili Tarasenko and Anton). The Iron Front was headed by Nicholas McCarthy, a werewolf loved by some and hated by many. Depending on who you asked, you could say he was a courageous advocate for the rights of monsters or you could say he preached racism and violence. I liked to think of him as the latter. "Shit." I muttered. "That's why he looked a bit aggravated." "Aggravated?" Stasi asked. "He was arguing with Vince and Brenda about something. Maybe he's been paying a little too much attention to what the Iron Front has been preaching." "Chris, you should report this." Stasi said. "No..." I said, looking behind me at Greg. It looked like he had been shot down by Vincent and Brenda, as he was looking furious. "I'll trust Vincent and Brenda to keep him in line. He won't do anything without their say-so. Besides, even if I did the Nguyen Pack a few favors, I don't think they'd appreciate me taking things into my own hands." "If you say so," Stasi said, hesitantly. She clasped my hand, turning back to the table. "How are you guys taking the news?" "It's fucked up, what they did to the kid." Jazz said. "I hope they place those cops behind bars." "Well... it was dark," I began, making Jazz snap her head at me. "Are you actually going to defend the cop?" She asked, angrily. "No, I'm just saying... it's only been a day, we should wait for more det-.." "What kind of cop shoots a kid? In the back?" She argued. I held up my hand, feeling terrible. "Look, Jazz I don't want to argue. I'm sure there's going to be an investigation in court and we'll see what happens." "We all know the cops are going to be let off," Jazz snorted. "They all watch out for each other. They'll plant some evidence or something." "Jazz..." Ricky warned. "Don't 'Jazz' me, Ricky. You know I'm right." She retorted. "Can we talk about something else?" Lucy snapped, all eight of her eyes narrowed at Jazz. "This topic isn't boding well for my appetite." Jazz stopped, her mouth open as if she was about to say something. She examined me with her green slitted eyes, suddenly looking apologetic. "I'm sorry." She said. "It's ok." I replied, awkwardly. "Why aren't you wearing your hockey jersey, zaichik?" Stasi asked, squeezing my hand. "Don't you have a game tonight?" "I just... I must've forgotten. I was so caught up today that I think I left home without it." I turned to look at my beautiful girlfriend. She, of course, was wearing my Away jersey. She didn't forget. She never forget when it came to details about me. Just like how I never forgot about details when it came to her. We were so caught up with each other that we forgot to take care of ourselves, but sometimes... the other person picks up the slack. "I'll pick it up." Stasi said. "You sure? They said they were going to increase the checkpoints." "Yeah, I'll be fine. Ne volnuytes'." "I love you." I said, pulling her in for a swift kiss. "I love you, too." Just before we were about to kiss, Ricky piped up. "No love for me?" "Yes." I said. "No." Stasi said, flatly, at the same time, making the entire table laugh... a sound that seemed to be in short supply in the cafeteria. ***** Have you ever wanted something so bad, you could've practically tasted it, even if it had no particular taste? The thing I wanted so bad, so, so bad, was the chance to hoist a championship trophy. The chance to officially call ourselves the best of the best. I nearly had the chance my junior year, only to have it elude me at the last second. I certainly believed we, the Minotaurs, could get there now, but a string of defeats to the Belcourt High School Minotaurs Hockey Team was certainly getting in the way of that. We needed one win to get into the playoffs... and that one win was eluding us. With only three games left in the regular season, we needed this win if we wanted any hope of not being eliminated from the battle for the California State Championships. Maybe it was because of the way I played, but I sure as hell wasn't ready for my season to end next week. "You think anyone is going to come to the game tonight?" Viktor asked, breaking me out of my reverie. "After what happened and all?" "Sh..." I said, bringing my finger to my mouth. Viktor stopped talking, raising his eyebrow. But we both could hear it. The din of the crowd. The booming of the music. Our beloved supporters who wanted to see us go to the playoffs for the first time for our school were here. "They'll come." I said. "Hell, I think they're here." My eyes trailed over to the slime, Eric Watson, the backup goalkeeper and forward. He was tapping his foot anxiously, chewing on his mouthguard. Well, hardly chewing on it. I doubt he even needed a mouthguard. It was just sitting there in his translucent face. It actually looked kind of trippy. "You ok, Eric?" I asked. "You look like you're tap dancing." "Yeah, I'm...I'm fine." He stammered, a far cry from his cool and quiet persona. "Just a bit nervous, is all." "Don't be scared. You earned it." I declared. I was proud of him. He made the depth chart, being placed on the third line. It still might not have been optimal, but it was a vast improvement from no playing time at all. "You prepared for this. Now, execute." He nodded. "Got it. Thanks 'Cap." Cap. I swelled in pride when he called me that. To my team, even if I was still a human, I was their leader. I was the one that had to lead by example, the one they all looked to for guidance. I glanced around the locker room again. Everyone was here and they looked ready. I was ready. I was born ready for this. When I saw Coach Butler give me the nod, I stood up, giving a taxi cab whistle and catching everyone's attention. "Circle up." I said, waving everyone over. They all stood up from what they were doing, coming over to me and surrounding me. "Guys, tonight, we have Columbus. Like all the other schools we faced, they're all humans. They don't have to worry about what species or race they are. We do." I admitted, making everyone nod. "Let me tell you guys something though. Look at everyone in this room. Look at all the differences you have with the person next to you. Now look at him again. He's your brother. Nothing will tear you apart." I picked up my Easton Synergy, a stick that my best friends so lovingly got for me. "In Greek mythology, the Minotaur was a half man-half bull. Everyone that came into his house was eaten...this stadium, the Labyrinth, this is our house. Let's open a can of whoop ass on these invaders." With a cheer, everyone started to square away the rest of their gear. I glanced over at Coach Butler. "Theseus didn't get eaten." He observed. "These guys don't have to know that." I chuckled. "How are you holding up?" "Holding up?" He asked, puzzled. "About the Thomas Santos shooting." "I don't care about that." He said, gruffly. "I only care about hockey." Well, shit. Saying nothing further, I walked to the door that lead into the tunnel. I could already hear the noise of the crowd. I took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline coursing through my veins. This was going to be a win. I could feel it. "Don't let me d-o-own...." I mumbled. "What?" Vik asked. "Don't Let Me Down. That's the song they're playing." I pointed out. "It doesn't sound like it." He noted. "It's a remix, I think." "Oh. Cool." He said. "Is Abby going to be here?" I asked. "Yeah. She is." Vik replied. "That's nice." I said, awkwardly. "We've been dating a really long time, you know." "Really?" "Yeah." "Oh. Cool." I said. "I should really say the 'L' word to her." I flitted my eyes over to him, then flicked them back towards the door. "What 'L' word? Live? Lone? Lack? The word would be..." "I don't want to say it.." He stammered. "Why not?" I asked. "I don't like to say it." "Have you ever said it?" I asked. "No." "Try it." "I don-.." He began. "Try it!" I said. "Really? Serio-..." "We're not going to end this conversation until you say it." I said, a grin slapped on my face. "Why do I have to say it?" He asked. "Aw, come on." I said, throwing up my hand. "Just say it." "Uh," He stuttered. "I.. I mean... will you say it?" "No, hell no. It's not the same thing if I say it." I replied. "Well, why do you want me to say it?" "You know what, forget it." I said, exasperated. "Here comes coach." Coach Butler squeezed his way in front of us. He was starting to grow a beard, the coarse auburn hairs lining his mouth. He glanced back at the two of us. "Chris, you're going out as Captain. Sokolov, you're an alternate." Without another word, he turned to the door, pushing it open. We were met with a swarm of flashing lights from cameras as we marched forward, balancing on our skates. People screamed my name as I walked past them, walking through the cramped tunnel and into the rink. Right as the opening riff of 'Welcome to the Jungle' by Guns N' Roses started, we were already on the ice, getting warmed up. I looked around the rink.The whole school was here, and then some. I guess people just wanted a distraction from what was going on outside of good old sports. I turned to glance at the other team, who were starting to hop on the ice. Their purple and green uniforms didn't look too attractive and they were met with a chorus of boos. Once both teams got their warmups out of the way, Vik and I skated to the center rink, being met with three players from the opposing team. Their captain and two alternates. The referee was standing there as well as a gruff police officer. "That's a first." I mumbled, as we skated to a stop. "Blue captains, Purple captains." The referee gestured for us to approach. "Alright, you all know how to play hockey, right? Good. I want a nice, clean match. Any questions from the purple? Any questions from the blue? Alright, shake hands and get your line out on the ice." Vik and I stepped forward, outstretching our hands. The handshake was a long-standing proud hockey tradition; a symbol of mutual respect and sportsmanship. It looked like this team had none of that. We were met with stone-cold silence. Jeers from the crowd rang out and I felt anger bubbling in my stomach. "Ok, ok." The referee said, stepping in between us. "Let's get this game on the road." Vik and I skated back to the bench, then back out to the ice with Jordan and the Kelly brothers in two. I clambered into my position to the left of Vik, waiting nervously for the faceoff. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a great big Royal Blue poster with my face tacked right on the center. Sure enough, Ricky was holding it up for everyone to see. My heart skipped. I felt braver, more ready. I turned back to the winger in front of me, smiling. The referee squatted, making sure that Vik and the Columbus center across from him were set. He then dropped the puck and off we went. The game was solid back and forth, nobody scoring or making a big play until three minutes left in the first period. It was a tense game, with both sides riled up. I was on the ice, keeping the puck in front of me and skating as fast as I could towards the other goalie. Cocking my stick, I did a slapshot, firing the puck towards the goalie. "Shit!" I cried through my mouthguard as the goalie caught it. I slowed down. My world was suddenly turned upside down as the Columbus defenseman collided into me with his shoulder lowered, sending me flying. "OI!" Vik screamed at the ref as the crowd roared in outrage. "What the hell was that?" "Hey, hey!" The ref yelled, panicking as the two teams converged on us. "That's it, that's it." Dan Kelly helped me up, staring angrily at the defenseman who crashed into me. "Stupid asshole." He yelled, taking two steps forward and pushing him against the glass. "Danny, no!" I cried, following him and putting my hands around him. I was trying to keep him from throwing any punches. While Dan and the defenseman simply just pulled jerseys, all he needed to do was throw a punch and he'd get a penalty... or worse. "Watch the lawsuit, Dan. Watch the lawsuit." I panted, trying to yank him off. "Don't even worry, it was a close play." With some brief assistance from Vik and Dan's twin, Henry, we managed to get him off of the defenseman and he was replaced by Jones so he could cool off. Our team was fired up after that close encounter and it showed. Although Henry was struggling without his twin brother at his side, we were doing well. It only took two more minutes of play before we had something going on, rushing the puck forward with Brady in possession. "7/11!" He yelled, catching my attention. I nearly forgot my nickname. Brady was trying to make the nickname 7/11 stick with me. He said it was because I was always open. He passed the puck to me and I secured it, firing a wristshot from the blue line. The hardened piece of rubber sailed through the air, dinging against the crossbar and down into the net. "Woohoo!" I screamed, pumping my fist as the spectators erupted into deafening cheers, assisted by the alto of the goal horn. Despite that, it was an uphill battle. A miscommunication in the second period left us at tied at one to one and Columbus was not a school to be trifled with. But, neither were we. It was a hard battle and Vik and I were on fire... well, more Vik. I was doing decent, but decent wasn't good enough against Columbus. I was struggling with my shots. Shots I should have been able to make were going anywhere but the net. Vik was able to pick up the slack, making all the plays he could. He was the one keeping an eye on me when I should've been the one keeping an eye on him! I had no idea what was making him do so good, but I was liking it. Maybe it was because the mermaid he may or may not have loved was in the stands watching him. We managed to keep the game tied until the end of regulation and went into overtime. The entire first line was supposed to be off for the first minute to get some rest. We didn't need it. Vik had somehow managed to get the puck passed to him across the blue line. Surprised that he even got the puck, he froze, looking at the piece of rubber in horror. Swearing, I jumped to my feet, cupping my hands around my mouth. "SHOOT, VIK! SHOOT!" I screamed. With a defenseman flying towards him, Vik smacked the puck as hard as he could with his stick, bracing himself for the impending hit. With a thud, he was slammed by the defenseman, the groan of the crowd sounding all around the stadium. The crowd's shock, however, wasn't to be absorbed too easily. We watched with bated breath as the puck sailed past the goalie and into the net. What was pure bated silence became pandemonium as the stadium erupted, Belcourt clinching its first playoff game in it's history as a school. I jumped off the bench, skating over to Vik and flapping my arms, my team not so far behind me. As I reached Vik and slapped his shoulders, yelling in his face, I saw him trying to blink tears out of his eyes, because for once, hard work did get to pay off. When the clock ran out and we went back to the locker room, we were elated to say the least. I was shaking everyone's hand, congratulating everyone on clinching the playoffs, until Coach Butler walked in. "Alright men, congratulations. We're in the playoffs, that's pretty impressive." He said, when the noise died down. "You earned it, alright? But we're in the playoffs, so we're back at zero wins and zero losses. But hey, we just gotta' keep grinding it out like we have all year, just keep grinding and uh... handle the playoffs like we handled everything all year and just working, keep grinding, getting better, and be ready to play our best football come playoffs. Got it?" "Yes, Coach." We chorused. "Alright, bring it in, guys. Gimme a hug." He said. With a cheer, we all crowded around him, swarming him in a smelly, testosterone-fueled hug. Chapter 7: The video that was accompanied with the Thomas Santo Shooting shooting had a sensitizing effect. The shooting itself raised eyebrows, but the video stirred deep resentment in Los Angeles, as well as other major cities in the United States and even Canada. The fact that the DTOSA somehow protected the officers from being charged also must've had an effect. San Francisco was one of those cities, with mass demonstrations taking place at the Pacific Mall. Over 20,000 protestors united at the well-known hangout place for nonhumans to protest the injustice of the DTOSA. Stasi and I would've gone had Anton not told us that the San Francisco Police Department set aside over one million dollars in overtime. I don't know about the next person, but with Belcourt now in the playoffs, I wasn't really into getting my head smashed in by an overzealous riot police officer's baton. Instead, I did what any good friend would do. I sent out a mass text and invited everyone to my house for dinner, to simply enjoy the night and find some way to ignore my beloved city tearing itself apart. Rather than brave the bitter cold waving a poster, I was instead lounging on the loveseat with the love of my life and a shared bowl of rosolje between us, surrounded by our close friends and family. Ricky, Lucy, and Jazz were able to get dropped off by their parents, despite their concerns. "It seems that everything has gone to waste, has it not, Christopher?" Anton asked, watching a protester yelling into the camera. "What thing, Mr. Sokolov?" Lucy piped up. "The football thing. Where we played football with a bunch of kids." I replied. "But no, Anton. I don't think it all went to waste." "You know, Christopher... ya tozhe tak dumayu." He looked around the living room. "Is someone missing?" "Huh?" Stasi asked. "I feel as if someone's missing." Anton said. "Yes, papa. Jaz-... Jasmine isn't here. She didn't answer her phone." Stasi said. "She must be at home watching the news. Every Belcourt student is. I wouldn't be surprised if people don't go to school on Monday and go to the Pacific Mall instead." "I wouldn't be surprised. It kinda looks like fun." I chuckled. Even though it was clear that something was going to happen with the massive amount of people, it still looked a bit of fun. It almost looked like a festival, with the music and dancing in the center of the protest. Everyone was just standing around, singing, and dancing. From what I could see through the TV, reporters were going around and interviewing different people and there were smiles to be seen. Of course, when night fell, everything changed. ***** Deciding to leave the living room to the adults, we had all migrated to my room. Fitting six people inside of my room wasn't a tough task. Elena had the computer chair, but was out making hot chocolate for everyone. Stasi and I had the bed. Ricky had 'Ricky's Spot', Lucy had her own spot to fit her massive carapace, and Viktor was relegated to the closet. We were watching the proceedings on our TV. It was clear from the beginning that the police were preparing for something. They were creeping in around the Pacific Mall, creating a wall of shields. Slowly, they advanced and when they were within breathing room of protestors, they began to swung their batons and throw tear gas into the crowds. "Jesus!" I exclaimed as I watched a college lamia get beaten over the head with a baton. There was a lot of screaming and wailing as the cameraman fled to a safer spot, the live footage extremely shaky. But, just when the action started, it ended. The live stream was cut off and it was back to the news anchor. "Did you see that? It looked like the police had enough." "Yeah, I'm going to be checking Twitter now. Tam, navernoye, nekotoryye khoroshiye veshchi tam." "Good idea." I said. "You ok, Ricky?" Ricky was staring at the TV, his mouth open. He looked at me, closing it and swallowing. "Chris?" "'Sup?" "She's there." "Who?" "Jazz." "What about her?" "She went." "We-... what?!" I asked, my heart plummeting. "She went. She begged me not to tell you guys." "Ricky, what the fu-... WHAT?!" I pointed to the TV. "Did you not see what's happening?" "I know, I know!" He said, panicking. "But she begged me not to tell you." "Shit," I groaned, walking over to my closet to go grab a jacket. "Lyubov," Stasi asked. "What are you doing?" "I'm getting a jacket. I'm driving to the Pacific Mall and I'm going to drag her home kicking and screaming if I have to." I said, sliding on my black North Face jacket. "Chris, no, you're not going anywhere." Stasi said, scrambling off the bed and getting in my way. "Your parents aren't going to let you. I'm not going to let you." "Stasi, move." I said. She raised her eyebrow, giving me a look. "Please." I loved my friends and I was protective with all of them. If Jazz was there, I was going to go there and bring her back safely. If she got hurt... No, I won't think like that. Stasi had a furious expression on her face. "If you're going, then I'm going!" My eyes widened. "No you're not! You're staying right here where it's safe and warm. I'm going by myself." "No, you're not." Viktor insisted, standing up. "Take me with you. I'll watch your back, Chris." That actually... wasn't a bad idea. "Ok, Vik." I said. "Get into something warm." "What?!" Stasi snarled, her pupils dilating and fangs elongating. She grabbed me by the shirt, putting her face inches from mine. "No. NYET! I'm not going to just sit here and wait for you. I'm coming with you or you're not going at all." She hissed. I simply stared at her, my mouth slightly ajar. Why didn't I want to take her? She did martial arts with me. She was fit. I trusted her to have my back all my life. Why wasn't I trusting her now? We both knew the answer. The dream. It seemed so far away, but the thought of it was still there. It cut scars in my mind that would never heal. If I took everyone I loved with me, it was going to happen. I know it. I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut. Stasi knew what that meant. She knew what was going on in my head. She knew everything about me. She loved me with all her being and I, her. "Chris," She whispered, quietly, planting a soft kiss on my lips, her previous furiousness gone. "It's not going to happen. I promise. Let me help you. Where you go, I go. Let me have your back, like you have mine. Don't even argue with me, it's going to do you no good." I opened my eyes. Her fangs were back to how they normally were. A simple accentuation of her beautiful smile. Her eyes were back to their crystal blue. Those wide eyes that I wanted to just dive into. "Ok." I breathed. "Ok. Stasi, let's go. Ricky, you come too. You'll be able to see over everybody." "And be a bigger target for the police." Ricky grumbled. "How do we sneak out?" "The window," Stasi said. "We'll go to the window. Our security detail isn't out tonight. Anton thought they deserved the night to be with their families." "Aright, vamonos." Ricky said. "Wait," Lucy asked. "What about me?" "Lucy, you stay." I said. "What?!" She exclaimed. "If your parents come in, my web is dusted!" "Lucy," I said. "I don't have enough space in my car and I don't want you to get hurt. Can you just... can you just try and keep a low profile for an hour or two? We'll just grab her and run, I promise. You won't get in trouble, I bet my life on it." Lucy bit her lip, trying to think of ways to protest. I knew she didn't want to go. She just wanted to be there for Jazz, but I was like her sometimes. Scared of people and shy. We both hated confrontation. "Ok." She said. "Be back soon, you four." We got the window open and just as Viktor and Ricky slid out, my door opened. My heart sank, thinking that we were made, but standing at the door was Elena. She stared back at us, holding onto a tray with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. "Where are you guys going?" "Ricky's house." I lied. "Liar." Elena said. I was a terrible liar and Elena saw right through it. Her eyes widened when she put two and two together. "You're going to the Pacific Mall, aren't you?" "Elena..." I began. "Nyet!" She cried, setting the tray down. "Take me with you, please! I want to be there!" "No, Elena." Stasi said, rushing forward. She grabbed her little sister by the shoulders, staring down at her. "You're staying here." "But, Anna!" She began. "No, Elena! You're staying here. I don't want you to get hurt." "But, I want to be there for my people." Elena said, tearfully. Little drops of blood began leaking from her tear ducts and down her cheeks. "Chris, make her say yes!" "I'm sorry." I said, my heart breaking. Stasi turned to me. "Lyubov, I'll meet you outside. Ya poluchil eto." "Alright." I replied, leaving my room and going out the window. Instead of jumping down onto the pavement like the other two, I sat on the windowsill, watching what was going on inside. I had to turn away after fifteen seconds, the sight of a tearful Stasi embracing a crying Elena too much for me to handle. ****** The dark night was brightly lit by a multitude of colors. The harsh glow from the line of ambulances waiting for clearance to drive into the mall and the warm light emanating from the store that was burning down the street. We had found our way to get into the Pacific Mall past the police barrier. They had left one of the roads unblocked for emergency vehicles. We parked our car one mile away and jogged the rest of the way. Evidently, what was earlier a protest was quickly becoming a full blown riot and from the last Stasi checked, this wasn't the only place where it was happening. There were minor public disturbances happening nearby in Oakland to all the way in New York City. People, from doctors, to police chiefs, to janitors, the entire country were coming out and saying that this had to stop. Why? Why did this have to happen? Couldn't we all just get along? As we ran around protestors and police officers alike, looking for any sign of Jazz, a man on the back of a pickup truck with a megaphone was preaching to a crowd of protesters, reading from a piece of paper. "The Declaration of Independence," Stasi panted. "How fitting." "Yeah, especially the 'All Men are Created Equal' part." I gasped. "Ricky, where did you say she was, again?" "Up ahead by like... another 100 yards." He said, checking his phone. iPhones were useful. They were able to track each other. Stasi and I had Androids so we had that least bit of privacy. "Wait... wait... she's at a store up ahead! I know this store. Vamonos!" With Ricky leading the way and us three in tow, we sprinted after him. "Jesus, it's like Normandy here." Viktor gasped, stepping around rubble and people. "Saving Private Jazz, yeah?" I laughed, darkly. Finally, we made it, pushing past loads of people. Ricky converged on a large mass of makeshift tents and people. "Jazz!" We called out among the camp. Wounded people were scattered around and I instantly knew that this was a makeshift field hospital. My mind went to the worst, thinking Jazz was hurt. "Jazz! Jazz! Jazz, where are you?!" After fifteen minutes, when our voices grew hoarse and our hopes of finding her among the swathes of people grew dim, Stasi and Viktor heard her. With their vampire hearing, they were good to have around. After only a few more seconds, I heard her too. "Here!" She called back. "Here, I'm over here!" We ran over to where her voice came from, which was a small tent. I pulled the tarp aside, expecting to find Jazz on some kind of gurney. Imagine my surprise when I found her tending to a wounded old lady. Blood was running down from a gash on her forehead and Jazz was wiping it away, applying gauze to the wound with gloved hands. She looked up at us, her eyes widening. "Chris... Ricky... what are you guys doing here?" "We're here to take you home, Jazz." Ricky said. "No, I can't." Jazz said, going back to her work. "I'm not going." "Fuck that, you're coming with us." Ricky said, lumbering over to her. "Jazz, let's go." Jazz didn't reply, paying close attention to her work, but her lips trembled. Ricky went up into her face. "Jazz! LET'S GO." "Yes, miss." The old lady said, smiling softly. "You've done your duty. Clear on out." "No, Debra. Besides, I'm almost done." After she finished tying off the gauze, she gave one last inspection. Satisfied of her handiwork, she let Debra out of the tent and into the cool night. We watched her leave, then turned to Jazz. "Jazz, come on..." Ricky insisted. "No." Jazz replied, turning away to her tray where scarce medical supplies lay. She set about organizing it with trembling, bloodied hands. "Fuck this." He grunted, lumbering forward, his arms outstretched. When Ricky went to grab her, she spun around and pushed him away, her eyes blazing. "I said no, Ricky! I'm staying!" She snarled. "Bu-... but why?" He asked. When she saw our forlorn faces, her furious expression softened. "Ricky, all my life I've waited for the chance to get to be able to help people. To heal them, to make them feel better. Don't you see?" She asked, gesturing around. "This is my chance. This is what I was born to do. Out there, I can't make a difference because of what I am. But in here, I can. I know what to do. I've been ready for this my whole life. These people need my help and I know how to help them." "You're crazy." Ricky said, an expression of agony on his face. "I know. You are too for coming all this way to get me." Jazz said, tears in her eyes. "Now go. Go home, you guys. Before the police come. The last thing that Debra said was that they're getting closer. They'll probably raid the place, soon." "I... I..." Ricky began. "Go. Go home." Jazz said. "This is what I was born to do." "No." Ricky said. "What?" "No, I'm not going. If you're staying, then I'm staying." "Ricky," Stasi began. "Annie, no. If she wants to stay, then I'll keep an eye on her and make sure that nothing bad happens. Don't even argue with me, I'm not budging." "Ricky.." I argued. "I'm staying." He affirmed. "Annie, Vik, take care of him, please. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Without me there, there's a big chance of that happening." "You got it, Ricky... although I think the chances of something stupid happening are smaller without you there." Viktor said. ****** We managed to find our way out of the pandemonium, retracing our steps back up the street. Unfortunately, the police had begun to block out the exit when they discovered it was being abused. Our only way out was through a back alleyway. We had to climb a fence, though. As we came to the alley, I doubled over, breathing heavily. We were sprinting non-stop to beat the protestors. "You first, Vik." I said. "Thanks." He replied, climbing the eight foot tall fence with ease and dropping onto the other side. "You're next, Stasi." "N-.." "I'm not arguing. I'm done arguing with anybody. Please just... go." She gave me a look, before kissing me on the cheek. Without another word, she started to climb the fence and in no time at all, she dropped onto the other side with a grunt. While she was doing that, I turned around, watching the riot. It was in full fold on this street. It was surreal. All I could do was stare... until something caught my attention. "No..." I gasped, watching three werewolves do whatever they could to smash a car windshield with a rock, the occupants screaming inside. It wasn't what they were doing that shocked me, but it was who they were. They were the three members of the Nguyen Pack. Belcourt High School students Greg Huynh, Michael Tran, and Trent Phan. I simply watched as they repeatedly smashed the rock on the glass, the straining material cracking like a spider web. "Chris...?" Stasi asked, catching my attention through the fence. "What's wrong? It's your turn." I looked at her, then back at the car, then back at her. She followed my line of sight, her eyes squinting to see, then widening. "I'm sorry." I said. Before she could say anything, I took off, sprinting down the street and weaving past rioters. "Chris, no!" She screamed behind me as I scurried off, hellbent on stopping the three from doing something I knew they were going to regret later. Hell, this was something I probably was going to regret later! Within seconds, I was directly behind Greg. I grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away from the car and turning him around. I slammed his back against the car, an angry expression plastered on my face. "What the fuck are you doing here? Go home!" I demanded. "Fuck you." He shot back. I pulled him away from the car and pushed him towards the sidewalk. He tripped over the curb, but got back to his feet in an instant. "Go home." I repeated. "I'm not going to let you hurt anybody tonight." "Oh yeah?" He challenged. "Yeah. If you're going to get to them, you're going to have to go through me." I growled, balling my fists. Trent and Michael stopped what they were doing, watching me. Greg looked left and right at the mayhem going on around him and his smile turned malicious. He licked his lips, lips dry and cracked from the heat of the flames of the burning stores. "Gladly." He snarled. Shit. Why couldn't we just be friends? If there was one thing I realized, it was that Greg was fast. One moment, he was standing in front of me, the next I was under him, holding onto my cheek in pain. Greg stood over me, shaking out his fist, grinning. "You picked a wrong fight now, Williams." He snarled, picking me up by the straps of my jacket. "Wait," I panted. "Let's talk about this!" With a roar, Greg threw me into the car, my head cracking off the glass. Dazed, I looked up at him as he prowled towards me, balling his fists. "I've waited a long time to do that." He said. "I'm going to make sure that your little vampire bitch doesn't even recognize your body when I'm done with you." When he saw Michael edge closer, Greg snapped his head to him. "Don't take one step closer, he's mine!" He roared. He spun back to me, his smile growing wider, revealing terrible, terribly long canine teeth. My body wasn't ready for him, but my mind was. I was ready for him. I was ready for anything. I was even ready for death. "You call yourself the poster boy of our people, but you pick this family over us?!" He asked, pointing to the car. "You're weak. You don't have what it takes. You don't know what it's like." He grabbed me by my jacket and lifted me up, pinning me against the car. "You pick this family over us?" I said nothing. "HUMANS OVER US?!" He screamed. There was a time and place for words. Here and now was not optimal. I struggled against him, but it was no use. "Pathetic." Greg sneered, tightening his grip. His canines descended, his maw opening outrageously wide. "Completely and utterly pathetic." This is it. The dream wasn't about Stasi, Lucy, Jazz, Viktor, Ricky, mom, dad, Anton, or Yulia... That dream was about me. These are the last moments of my life. I was about to meet my end. Or so my melodramatic teenage mind thought. "Chris!" Stasi screamed. I turned my head to the right, watching her streaking towards us like a bat out of hell. Even from here, I saw her crystal blue eyes had changed completely, being replaced by a dark black. She sprinted and ran full speed towards Greg. Before he could turn to look at her, she had already turned into a blur, diving into a tackle and slamming into him with the force of a pickup truck. I watched in awe as the two landed on the sidewalk in a heap, with Stasi on top and raining blows with her fists. "Don't you fucking touch him, you stupid mudak!" She screeched, protectively. Without even taking the time to admire Stasi beating Greg, I was on my feet, slightly woozy from getting hit on the head. I turned around to face Michael and Trent. Trent was paralyzed by surprise at the arrival of Stasi, but Michael sprang into action. Screaming, he dove over the bonnet of the car and tackled me. Already off balance, I went to the ground, and my hands immediately went over his, which were around my neck. He squeezed as hard as he could, choking me. "C'mere, you!" Vik snarled, grabbing him around the head and pulling him off of me with one quick yank. Like his sister, his eyes were also black and his fangs were elongated. I gasped in relief, coughing as I massaged my neck, rolling onto my belly. While I was being attacked by Michael, it seemed that Viktor took the time to show up. A police officer wearing black riot gear was currently toe-to-toe with Trent, who had shredded and ripped his clothes as he transformed into his wolf form. With sickening cracks, his bones knit and he stood on all fours, snarling and yipping like a wolf. With one final crunch, he completed his transformation, howling at the sky. He immediately went on the offensive, snapping at the officer, who danced out of his reach, trying not to get bitten. I moved to help him, but I realized that I had to help Stasi first. Greg had managed to get out out from under her and had her pinned against the wall. She wailed in pain as Greg slammed his fist into her stomach, her face screwed tight as she squirmed, trying to get free. I immediately saw red. "NO!" I roared, jumping to my feet and running towards the two. I grabbed Greg by the back of his shirt, pulling him off Stasi so hard that I heard him gasp for air. While I was taller than Greg by a few inches, he was stockier. I was more scrawny and it showed. I wrestled with him, the both of us trying to use our weight to put the other on his back. Stasi recovered from his blows and grabbed Greg around the waist, heaving him off of me with a grunt of exertion. Suddenly finding my arms and hands free, I wiped everything out of my mind in blind fury. I cocked my arm back and sent it forward, my knuckles aimed at Greg's jaw. With a thud, it made contact, the both of us howling in pain. Blind fury wiped straight out of my mind, I staggered backwards, shaking out my throbbing hand. "Chris, don't stop!" Stasi cried. "I know, I know!" I gasped, holding onto my fist. You'd think that punching someone would hurt them a lot more than it hurt yourself! "Chris!" Stasi yelled, struggling to hold onto Greg. "Right!" I said, psyching myself up and attracting a few looks from nearby rioters. I didn't care. Fury was taking hold once more, hurt hand be damned. He had touched the love of my life and I wanted him dead. With a primal roar, I slammed my fist into his temple and he went slack. Shaking out my fist once again, I looked at Stasi. "Nice work. Are you ok?" I asked, tentatively touching her cheek. Stasi massaged her stomach with a grimace. "Yep. I'm fine. I'm a bit more out of shape than I'd like to be, but I'm fine.. Are you OK, lyubov?" She asked, examining me with a critical eye for injuries, specifically my neck and hand. "I'm fine." I reassured her. "I love you." "I love you, too." She said, leaning in for a kiss. "CHRIS, ANNIE," Vik panted. "PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HELP!" Oh right. There was still a riot and a brawl going on. Viktor was wrestling around with Michael on the floor. Michael was a skinny little kid, but then again, so was Viktor. Stasi immediately went to help him, pulling Michael off of him. "Don't you touch him." She snarled in his face, before socking him so hard that he saw stars. As Michael tried to figure out what just happened to him, she helped Viktor to a sitting position, patting him down for injuries. "Vik, Vik, are you alright?" She asked, alarmed. "I'm fine." Vik breathed, jittery from the adrenaline. He rubbed the back of his head. "That was fun. I felt like I was in an action movie." "No that was most definitely not fun." Stasi bawled, holding onto him. "Oh, when did you grow up?" "Sometime between getting Abby's number and getting in my first fight." Viktor muttered. I was inclined to agree. As the officer finished off Trent by smacking him on the nose with his baton, I went to check on the family. I opened the passenger door, looking inside. "Are you guys alrigh-..." My voice trailed off, as I got a good look at them. They were wearing 'Support the DTOSA' in blood-red ink. I grimaced. Maybe the three werewolves were justified... in a sense. The family did nothing wrong, but they weren't doing anything to make things any better. "Are you guys alright?" I repeated. They were too scared to reply, the two kids in the back clutching onto each other. I sighed, about to close the door. "Why?" The dad asked. "Why what?" I replied. "Why did you help us?" "Did you not want us to help you?" "I thought m-monsters h-hated us." The dad whimpered. "What?" I asked. "I th-thought monsters hated hu-humans. That's what you guys are, n-no?" He stammered. "How could we hate you when we don't even know you?" I asked, shutting the door. I didn't even want an answer from him. I turned to my friends, who all looked at me. It looked like the riot was spreading to the next few streets. It's fury was dying down on this street. I sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "Thanks, officer." I muttered. "Go home." The officer ordered, running off to rejoin the rest of his team. He probably had more important things to do than arrest a few teenagers out rioting. I looked at Stasi, a non-verbal question etched on my face. It said 'what about these three?' "Leave them." Stasi said, harshly. "If they're lucky enough to not get picked up by the police, let them consider it a warning to stay home the next time this happens." Everyone was all too happy to agree. We walked off, heading back to the store to find a way out of the Pacific Mall. While we were walking, our feet navigating around detritus, Stasi's hand found mine and we intertwined our fingers. I breathed a sigh of contentment. Perfect fit. "I don't regret anything, you know." She said as we came to the fence. Viktor hopped on with a grunt, climbing over the top. "Huh?" I asked, massaging my knuckles. "This. Us. I don't regret a single thing. Do you?" She asked, a hint of vulnerability in her crystal blue eyes, the dark and deadly black all but gone. I looked around the broken street, filled with sporadic destruction. Stasi was asking whether or not I regretted being with her, because this is what it entailed. I could've been warm and cozy in my own bed, watching this on the news, like every other normal teenager. But I was here, fighting for the lives of me and my friends. Did I regret any of this? Was I completely over my head? I took one look at my best friend, the one who always has my back, the one who I trusted with everything and anything, the one who I could lean on to help pick me up when I needed it. The one I loved. "No," I stated, firmly. "I don't regret a single thing. I love you and I always have and always will. With zero regrets." With a cry, Stasi flung her arms around me, sealing my lips in a kiss that I felt all the way in my toes. I responded with such enthusiasm that I lifted her off her feet and swayed with her. "Uh... guys? Is now the proper time?" Viktor said, weakly. We didn't even acknowledge him, being too caught up in our own world. "OI!" He screamed, catching our attention. Stasi jumped away from me as if burned, a pink tinge to her face. "There's a goddamn war going on! Can you... can you both just hold it in until we get home?" To be continued. ****** I love to talk to you guys, so if you feel like it shoot me a PM! Your feedback is what drives this story, motivates me to write, and improve my writing! I want to hear any ideas you guys may have or where you want me to take this story and our lovable characters. I'm also looking for an editor now that Christopher is hanging up his cleats/skates. If you think you have what it takes, please send me a PM!

Chapter 1: Iciness. Cold, desolate iciness. I was covered in blood, the red fluid splattered all over my body. There was nothing here. I stood at the middle of the field, looking around. It was all empty, devoid of life. A hateful land of wonderful winter. Yet, despite the flurry snow blowing past me and caressing me as if it were some kind of lover, I felt warm. I felt more warm than I ever have. I could've been only wearing shorts and a t-shirt and I wouldn't have been uncomfortable at all. It was nice. It was so nice. I was a banner. A beacon of warmth. "And... here we are, amigo." Ricky announced, slowing his car to a crawl and waking me up. He parked on the curb, looking at me over his shoulder. "You awake?" "Yeah. That was a good nap. Gracias, Ricky." I replied, opening the car door. "Need help bringing your stuff inside, Chris?" Lucy asked in concern. "Nah, I'll be fine." I said, gingerly stepping out of Ricky's car. I hobbled onto the sidewalk, balancing on my crutches. I wasn't a stranger to the pair of medical device, but that didn't make it any less awkward. I wish I could've just done away with them, but in truth, I needed them. Badly. The knee injury I sustained over the weekend wasn't as bad as initially thought, but it was still bad. I was to take one week off from practice to recover. Then, I was to only do light skating and no-contact drills for another few days before upping the intensity... just in time for States. "Will you need a ride home, bro?" Ricky asked, leaning over Jazz to look out the window at me. "No, I'm ok." I said. "I'll probably call my parents and ask for a ride." "Call your parents for a ride? What are you, in the eighth grade?" Jazz asked, cracking up. "That's a bit ironic that you're saying that, considering that Ricky gives us rides everywhere." Lucy observed. "I know right? I feel like an Uber service except I don't get paid." Ricky complained. "I got you McDonald's that one time, didn't I?" Jazz argued. "Yeah, like back in November!" Ricky exclaimed. "Bye, guys." I said, waving and closing the door. "Tell Annie I said get better!" Lucy commanded, waving at me. Ricky honked his horn and went back to his playful bickering with Jazz as he drove away, leaving me alone on the sidewalk. I sighed in contentment. I loved my friends... especially her. I turned and faced the opulent house, hobbling up the steps to the front door. When I arrived at the door, I leaned forward and rang the doorbell. Within seconds, I heard the door unlock and it swung open, revealing a very dark interior. "Hello, Christopher!" Yulia greeted, giving me a warm smile. She stepped up to me and gave me a hug before stepping to the side, gesturing for me to get out of the cold. "Come in, come in!" "Hi, Yulia." I chirped, hobbling into the familiar darkened house that was my second home. "How's Stasi feeling?" "She's feeling better than she did this morning, although the fever hasn't broken yet." Yulia replied. "I took her off her medication so she could sleep. The last time I checked on her, she was still asleep. As a matter of fact, she's been napping all day. The flu must be really bad this time around. Did you have a good day at school?" "Yeah, as good as it could be without Stasi there." I admitted. I felt guilty knowing that the reason she wasn't at school was partly my fault. "I made some photocopies of today's notes so Stasi doesn't have to copy anything down. Do you want me to give them to you?" "Such a good boy. But nyet," Yulia said. "You'll give them to her yourself, eh? God knows how much she wanted to see you all day. You are staying the whole day, correct?" "Da." I replied. "Otlichno!" Yulia exclaimed, her pale face brightening. "Anastasia will be happy to see you. She was crestfallen this morning when she thought she wasn't going to see you today. Golodnyy?" "Da," I answered. "Nemnogo." "Good!" Yulia said, guiding me to the kitchen. "You came right on time. Come, I made Anastasia some borscht so she can get over her flu. I don't think she's eaten anything all day, poor thing. I'm just waiting for her to wake up now. Khochesh' li ty nemnogo?" "Da, pozhaluysta." I said, smiling. I always had space in my stomach for Yulia's excellent Russian food. When we got to the kitchen, Yulia made me sit down on a chair and take off my backpack. She tutted when she confiscated my crutches, looking at them disapprovingly and tutting. "What?" I asked, defensively. "The doctor said I have to use them for a week. It's not like I wanted them." "I know you didn't." Yulia said, leaning the crutches up against the wall. She turned to the massive stove, taking the lid off of a large metal pot. "I just don't like to see you hurt. None of us like to see you hurt. Bol'shoy ili malen'kiy shar?" "Small is fine." I replied. "Small it is." Yulia stood on her tiptoes to reach for the small bowls at the top of the rack. She retrieved it and bustled around her workspace, humming a classic Russian tune I swore that I heard before. Using a ladel, she scooped some borscht into the china bowl before setting it in front of me. I spooned some in my mouth, savoring the delightful taste of Yulia's cooking. Although it was amazing, a part of me was wondering why the soup tasted slightly metallic... unless... Oh god. "This is really good." I said, praying that Yulia didn't augment her soup with an SBP. I saw no reason why she'd do it. The Sokolov Family always took in their synthetic blood packs straight out of the bag. Well, except for Stasi. Stasi fed off of me, drinking real blood. Yulia knew the consequences that would occur if Stasi had a synthetic blood pack. Even if she'd had only a miniscule amount, she'd throw up. Her body was accustomed to drinking blood, my blood, and anything else simply wouldn't do for her. "Oh, stop it, Christopher. Save your compliments for Anna. She will need the pick me up when she arises from the dead." Yulia beamed, giving me a fangy grin. She laughed when she saw my face turn red. "You've been dating for almost six months, been luchshiye druz'ya ever since your first day of kindergarten, yet you still turn red whenever we talk about you two together. You're practically attached at the hip, always finishing each other's sentences and having those wordless conversations. Why are you still so embarrassed?" I shrugged shyly. My face was probably as red as the borscht! "I can't help it." I admitted. "I guess it had to do with all those years of you, Anton, and my parents teasing us that we would get together." "We weren't teasing," Yulia said, propping herself on the kitchen island. "We were predicting the future! You two were practically inseparable. Attached at the hip! It's no wonder you're in love." "Like that." I noted. "That teasing is what exactly makes me turn red." Yulia laughed lyrically. "Oh, Christopher. When you spend years hoping for your eldest to get together with their closest friend, the only one who is able to make the other happy when they are feeling their worst, for the longest time, you earn the right to be able to make a few jests out of it." "I guess you're right." I conceded, spooning some more soup into my mouth. "I know I am." Yulia replied, giving me a sparkling grin. "How's Anton?" I asked, after a moment. "Oh, he's doing marvelous." Yulia said. "He's getting a promotion at work. He's going to take over Tarasenko's job." "Really?" I asked. "Da. Vasili is relocating to Washington D.C. under the orders of the Royal Family. After what happened in San Francisco last month, the family decided that they need him closer to Capitol Hill than the Golden Gate Bridge." "That's great. Will I still have my internship with Anton?" "Certainly." Yulia said, smiling brightly. "Anton loves having you around the office. He says you lighten up the drab atmosphere." "I try my best." I replied modestly, spooning some more soup into my mouth. "Did you hear back from UCLA, yet?" Yulia asked. "Not yet, no. Decisions don't come out until early March." I mumbled. "The wait is killing us." Yulia watched me, a soft expression on her face. She always treated me like her second son and I always treated her like my second mother. "You'll get in for sure. You and Anna both. There's no question of it. You're both brilliant students who'll get their dues. But, there is something I do want to ask. Elena tells me that you still get headaches." Yulia observed, concerned. "How does Elena know that?" I asked, not that least bit surprised. She was as smart as a whip, furiously loyal, just like her older sister. But Elena knew all the gossip at Belcourt. She always had a knack for knowing what was up with who. Stasi and I, not being ones to pick up a lot of gossip, would always find out about stuff last. It was infuriating. So, naturally, it was up to Elena to be our informant when it came to news at the school and we found ourselves perpetually pumping her for information. "Come now, Christopher," Yulia chortled. "It's Elena we're talking about." "You're right." I conceded. "So, do you still get headaches?" Yulia asked, tilting her head. "A little. They never stopped after I got hit in the head back in November." I admitted. There was no use lying to her. "It's not that bad though. I only get them with bright lights and loud noises." "Bednyaga." Yulia whimpered, sympathetically. "Do you want me to turn down the lights?" "No, it's fine. I didn't even notice they were on." We talked until I finished my bowl of soup. When I finished debating whether or not I wanted any more, I stood up and went to hobble to the sink to wash it, but Yulia pried it from my grasp with her cold fingers and tutted. "No, no, no. I will clean it up, Christopher. Anna might be awake. Go check on her." "Are you sure?" I asked. "I can just rinse it off." "Yes," Yulia assured me. "I'm absolutely sure. Go do me a favor and check on Anna for me. She needs you. I'm not sure what to tell you, but today, I missed the perpetual dreamy smile that she has and her happiness. Here, bring up this glass of water for her." I wanted to argue, but the thought of seeing the love of my life won out. After thanking Yulia, I picked up my crutches and a glass of iced water, slid my backpack on, and left the kitchen, heading upstairs to Stasi's room. I realized that I've been here so often, I could've probably navigated through the entire structure blindfolded. I knew where everything was and every minute detail that came with that. The spot where Elena slipped and fell down the stairs. That spot on the carpet where Stasi accidently spilled a glass of Baikail, Russian Pepsi, and Viktor, Stasi, and I spent the evening furiously scrubbing at it so we wouldn't get killed by her parents. That door that lead me to the room to the love of my life. The piece of wood that always made my heart hammer in my chest every time I stood outside of it. I knocked softly and listened for any noise. When I heard nothing except for the dull thumping of quiet, muffled techno blasting from Elena's room, I quietly opened the door, peeking in. Her room was pitch black, the curtains drawn to keep out the irritating rays of the afternoon sun. On her bed, tucked away in the corner, was Stasi. She was wearing sweatpants and a gray hoodie that looked suspiciously the same to the one I lost a few weeks ago. She looked warm, excessively so, being bundled up in all kinds of blankets. Her face was turned towards me, a thin line of drool sliding out of her mouth and onto her pillow. The only sounds I could hear was a faint and adorable snoring emanating from her open mouth, her large fangs as pronounced as ever. I sighed in happiness, hobbling towards her bed. She must not have been asleep long. Notebooks were scattered all around her bed. Her laptop was still open and running on her comforter. I sat down on her mattress, set the glass of water on her nightstand, and leaned over her willowy body, wiggling my finger on the trackpad. The screen lit up, revealing that she was playing some video games before she fell asleep. Kerbal Space Program to be a bit more specific. I resisted the urge to laugh. We were addicted to that game. In the game, you were the head of a space program, designing spaceships to launch them into outer space (duh). We used to compete with each other to see who could make the better spacecraft. Hers were always insanely complex craft that got too complicated for their own good (often blowing up on the tarmac) while mine were just a hodgepodge of mismatched parts, slapped together in a futile attempt to reach the stratosphere. I closed the laptop, setting it to the side. Stasi was still frozen in her position, her raven hair clinging to her delicate face. I reached down and tentatively touched her cold and clammy skin, brushing some tendrils of raven hair out of her face. Her fever wasn't that bad but she must've been miserable all day. Whenever she got sick, she got really sick. You wouldn't have known that now, though. She looked so peaceful sleeping. Over summer break, I learned that vampires not on medication naturally slept unnaturally still, almost lifeless in a way. It was only when Stasi was on medication did she fidget in bed. Just like a human. Yet, completely like a vampire. My brown eyes clouded in thought as I caressed her luscious athletic and well-proportioned body through the sheets. "Hey Stasi, it's me, the Baba Yaga." I murmured softly. "You kind of left me alone at school today and made me completely miserable, but I forgive you. It's actually you that should be forgiving me since the whole reason you're sick was because we went jogging last night even though it was only a few degrees above freezing. I even have something to say to you. Maybe you're not awake to hear this, but I don't think you need to be. You already know this, but, Anastasia Sokolov, you are the most important person in my life." "I don't care what species you are or how dangerous you think you are, you're the one for me. You're so smart, amazing, adorably clumsy, and you're so much fun to be around. You're beautiful and the epitome of perfection. You've been by my side all my life and I wouldn't have anyone else there next to me. Knowing UCLA in a couple of weeks, they'll be damned happy to have you." I took a deep breath, continuing. "I'm so glad that it was you who decided to play legos with me on that fateful day in kindergarten and I thank my lucky stars every single day that it was you who became my best friend and the love of my life. I love you. I always have and I always will." I bent down low to give her a soft kiss on the lips, but as my lips came close, Stasi's eyes opened in alarm. She quickly turned her blushing face, so instead of my lips making contact with her deliciously ones, I got her cool and supple cheek. When I pulled away, her face was lit up in joy and her crystal blue eyes were boring into my brown ones with an infectious glimmer. She was absolutely beautiful. "Stasi?" I sputtered. "You sneak! You were awake this whole time!" "I was." She rasped with a fangy grin. "I faked being asleep, in case you didn't realize." The way her voice came out surprised me. It wasn't the silky voice accentuated by the soft Russian accent. It was a voice that sounded like she her throat was rubbed raw with sandpaper. She reached for her glasses but I stopped her. "I got it." I told her, picking up the thick plastic glasses that made her look so cute and pretty. I gently placed it over her eyes. "Better?" Stasi blinked and nodded. "Did you hear every word?" I asked. Stasi nodded, raising a cold hand and caressing my cheek. "Every amazing word that came out of your mouth." She croaked, wincing in pain when the words left her mouth. "Hurt to talk?" Stasi nodded, pointing to her throat. "I'm sorry. Don't talk if it hurts that bad. Anything I can get you to make you feel better?" I questioned. Stasi dumped her face back into her pillow so I couldn't see her blushing cheeks. She mumbled something that I couldn't quite hear. "I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked. Stasi popped her head up, looking up at me with one crystal blue eye. "Your attention." She mumbled, embarrassed. "And some water." "Then attention and water, I will give." I laughed, patting her on her shapely rear. I turned to my right, picking up the glass of water. Stasi sat up in bed, her hands outstretched. I placed the glass in her hand and she greedily took a large gulp. She handed the glass back to me and dove back under the covers. "I'm sorry your throat hurts." I said, apologetically. Sore throats were serious business. One time, when I was younger, I had a pretty bad case of strep throat. Every time I tried to swallow, talk, or breath, it felt like someone was going ham on the inside of my throat with an axe. Stasi poked her head out of the thick cocoon of blankets and shrugged, making a 'what can you do' gesture before her eyes widened in delight. She tapped me on the arm, catching my attention. "What?" I asked, my eyes trailing to where she was furiously pointing: the drawer of her nightstand. "You want me to open it?" Stasi nodded, pouting. "You don't have to give me those eyes," I laughed. "I was going to do it for you anyways. But, you look so beautiful and adorable I don't think I can take it." I leaned over, pulling open the drawer. The interior of the drawer was organized, the contents all sorted. I didn't need Stasi's pointing to know what she wanted. What she wanted was the small pile of brightly covered pieces of paper that stuck to one another. "Sticky notes?" I asked. "What do you want with stic... ohhhh." I pulled out a pack of the extra large ones and a blue sharpie, closing the drawer. I handed the sticky notes to Stasi, who gave me a kiss on the cheek in thanks. She snuggled her cool body next to mine, which did wonders for my erection. I hated being a teenager sometimes. Simply being next to Stasi's soft body was cause to give me a hard-on! With her nimble fingers, she uncapped the sharpie and scribbled something onto the sticky note, peeling it off of the pack and slapping it onto my thigh. "I love you. I love you I love you. I love you. I'm so sorry I left you at school today. I missed you so much today. I loved what you said and I wanted to say that I loved you too. With all my heart. Except, I can't say anything without my vocal chords imploding." I read aloud, happily. "Sad face. I like how the sad face has two fangs, by the way. Interesting touch, Stasi." We communicated like that, me talking and her writing. We talked about anything and everything, just like how we normally did. How was your day? (Brutal for me, because I missed Stasi and had to plan for the Athletic's Shrimp Feed without her. Brutal for her, because she was stuck in bed sick.) How's the knee? (Very sore.) What was the dumbest thing that Ricky did today? (Flick a spitball at Jazz during lunch but getting a poor sophomore on the face.) We went like that back and forth, until my thigh literally became plastered in a myriad of sticky notes. We usually tried to be environmentally friendly, but Stasi went all out when it came to her sticky notes! At first, it was awkward with me being a complete chatterbox and her writing everything out on paper; it was like a one-sided Skype call, where someone types and one person talks. But, I loved it nonetheless. It was new, creative, and refreshing. "No, you didn't miss a lot at school." I replied, after reading her latest note. "We did another Writer's Workshop in Literature, worked on our lab in Biology, and did some practice on significance tests in Stats. I used my uber-awesome seductive powers with Ms. Casarano in the front office to commandeer the printer and get you a copy of our notes." Stasi gave me a pointed look. "Ok, don't give me that. I totally used my seductive powers. I asked to use the printer and she let me." I bragged. Stasi peeled off another note and wrote on it. Rather than stick it on my thigh again, she stuck it on a more sensitive part of my body. My crotch. I jumped about 10 feet in the air when her soft hand made contact with my groin, making her giggle softly. When I finally got my heart to slow, I had to pluck off the note and read it. That's because you're the TA. :P But thanks for the notes, lyubov! X "No problem. I'd do anything for you, you know that. Besides, you'd kill me if I let you get behind in class." I joked. Stasi smiled softly, nodding vigorously. She uncapped her Sharpie, writing another note and sticking it to my forehead. I unstuck it off my forehead, reading her loopy handwriting. Did anyone at school miss me? X I looked at her, confounded. Where had that come from? "Of course people at school missed you. I missed you. I always miss you when you're not next to me. I love you so much that it hurts. Lucy missed you, Jazz missed you, your teachers missed you. Everybody did." Stasi didn't seem satisfied with that answer. With an unreadable expression on her delicate face, she scribbled down another sticky note and tacked it to my chest. No, I mean, did anyone outside of our friend group miss me? X "Of course." I said, flabbergasted. "What makes you think otherwise?" Stasi's hand wavered when she wrote the next one, but she wrote it anyways, slapping it on my arm. Please don't lie for my sake. Did anyone outright say that they missed me or acknowledge that I wasn't there? X "Well, I mean... no. They didn't. But, it's not like that's not normal." I lied. Stasi gave me a look. She knew when I lied. I never wanted to play Poker with her, ever. "Ok, maybe Juliet in our Stats class may or may not have muttered something unpleasant when Mr. Coppergut wondered where you were, but she was probably having a bad day. Stasi blinked, her lip quivering. She scribbled on her sticky note, before handing it to me, wiping at her eyes. I took it from her, my eyes running over the paper. Stasi's crystal blue eyes gazed into mine, tendrils of soft raven hair falling in front of her crystal blue eyes. Zaichik, do you think I'm mean? Not to you, but to everyone else? X "Mean? To everyone else? Like everyone outside of our friend group?" I asked. Stasi nodded mutely and I sat there in thought. Stasi wasn't mean. She was just introverted, stoic, quiet, and bad with people. People always took her brevity, adorable awkwardness, and curtness as being extremely rude, cool, and haughty when it wasn't. She just had a lot of defenses that you had to get through to get her out of her shell. You had to break past the 'ice queen' persona. Stasi and I were are close as two people could possibly be and I always grew up with the impression that Stasi didn't care about people's opinions of her. She always tried to convey that she was nihilistic about that kind of stuff, but maybe all she wanted was approval from her peers. For being what she was and for her personality. "No. I don't think you're mean to anybody." I said, comfortingly. "Some people think you are, but we all know you're just a quiet person. I know you're the kindest person in our little gang of people... well, you're kind of tied for Lucy, but I mean... come on, it's Lucy." I bumped her with my shoulder. "Trust me. You're not mean. Far from it. You could do with being a little more outgoing, but you're definitely not mean." "Thanks, Chris." Stasi replied, her scratchy voice nearly making me wince. "You always know what to say to make me feel better. I love you." "I love you, too. Glad I could make you feel better when you feel so crappy." I replied, moving to kiss her. Stasi moved her head out of the way, denying me to her cheek once more. "What? Is something wrong with me?" "No kissing. Don't want to get you sick." Stasi explained. "Fair enough." I decided. Even though I wanted to kiss her luscious lips badly, I had to settle for her forehead. I laid in bed, cuddling with her curvaceous body and indulging in soft caresses. I was her caretaker for the rest of the evening, keeping her company. We did what we normally did together: watch a movie, play video games, put a dent in the exorbitant amount of homework we got until she fell asleep again, snoring softly and listening to my heartbeat as if it were her own lullaby. I wasn't sure what happened to me that night. I think I might've fallen asleep too, with my arms and legs tangled with Stasi's, but I didn't care. I was with my best friend. Chapter 2: When we woke up the next morning, Stasi was feeling much better and she decided she was good enough to go to school. Even though I knew she was feeling better but not 100%, I knew it was better to simply get out of her way and let her do what she wanted to. Stasi was stubborn and especially so when it came to the following topics: me, feeding, and school. If she wanted to go to school, she was going to go to school. Her stubbornness was infuriatingly adorable. "Here we are." I announced, deftly maneuvering Stasi's car into the fairly tight parking spot. We were having some trouble finding parking in the packed Monster's section because we were running late. "Oh goody, we're back at school. I love school. School is amazing and I can't wait to learn stuff!" Elena quipped from the backseat. "Blink twice if you have a gun to your head, Elena." I said, looking into the rearview mirror at the preppy young vampire in the backseat. Through the fringe of her blonde hair, a pair of mischievous green eyes made contact with me and blinked twice. "You know," Elena began. "You could've parked us just a tweensy bit closer to priso-... er, I mean school." "Those are the human-only spots. You know we can't park there." Viktor pointed out, pulling out his earbuds, the white cord trailing from his ears to his phone. "Thanks for the ride, Chris." "Even if we are a little late." Elena sniffed. "I hate the checkpoints." "I hear that they're going to start lightening up on those in the future. They just want precautions after what happened in the city, you know? Don't even stress out over anything. Mrs. Casarano will write you a pass if you get held up by the school attack dog." I said. By attack dog, I was referencing the school Monster-Student Resource Officer. Like most schools, we had a police officer on campus that 'protected' us called a Student Resource Officer. M-SRO's were a special kind of police officer, specifically trained to deal with the multiple species on campus. They resembled the Waffen SS more than police officers. Stasi and I even got written up for a detention recently for simply holding hands. It took us a while to explain that one to Principal Finch. The Sokolov siblings both grunted in appreciation, grabbing their backpacks and leaving the car. I took the key out of the ignition, handing it to Stasi. "You're sure you want to go to school?" "You asked me that already." Stasi replied, exasperated. "Sorry." I said. Stasi's look softened. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, lyubov." Stasi caressed my cheek with her gloved hand. I decided that I liked the feeling of her cold skin better. "You keep on asking if I'm alright. I'm not made of stakan, you know." "You're right." I apologized. "I'm sorry. It's just... after what happened in the city and all..." My voice trailed off. Stasi gave me a soft fangy smile. "Zaichik, nothing's going to happen to me. You of all people know that. We don't have to fear anything if we're together." "Yeah, I know." I blabbed. "It's just... I've been thinking and-.." Stasi placed a finger on my lips, cutting me off. "Shush. You think too much." Stasi murmured in that velvety accent of her's. "That's supposed to be my job." "Oh yeah?" I breathed. "Oh yeah. Paralysis-..." "By analysis." I finished. "Finishing my sentences, are you? Well finish this," She said, huskily. "I-..." "-Love.." I guessed. Honestly, there were a lot of sentences that could start with the letter "I", but I just went with my gut. Judging from the way Stasi's face brightened, my gut was right on the first try. "You." She finished, her crystal blue eyes sparkling. "I can never get tired of those words." I confessed, feeling the familiar flutter in my chest. "Neither can I." She moved her hand so it was caressing my neck before pulling me over the center console. "Neither can I.." She repeated, capturing my lips in a soft and sensual kiss that made my brain turn to absolute mush. Strawberries. I didn't even care if I was going to get sick or not. I was already sick off of lo-.. Viktor tapped on the windshield, making us jump apart as if burned. "Are you going to write us a pass?" He asked, loudly. "Bell's about to ring!" "O moy bog." Stasi moaned, burying her face in her gloved hands. "I'm going to kill him. Eto tak nelovko." I laughed, holding up a finger to Viktor. No, not the middle finger. A finger, as if to say, one minute. I turned back to Stasi. Her pale face was pink and reddened. Hell, I was probably even more red. "Ready to check in to prison?" I asked, grinning widely. Stasi sighed, peeling her hands away from her face. She shot Viktor a death glare, snarling and baring her fangs threateningly. Viktor backed away from the car, his face split in a wide smile. Stasi took a deep breath before turning back to me. "Let's." She sighed, opening her car door and putting on her baseball cap. She went to the trunk, retrieving my crutches and came to the driver's door. "Thanks," I said gratefully, opening the car door and taking the crutches. "No problem, lyubov." Stasi replied. I followed her out of the car and we intertwined our fingers, walking through the misty and cold San Francisco morning. Well, Stasi and Viktor walked. I hobbled on my crutches. "You didn't have to wait around, you know." I told Viktor. "How else was I going to invade Anna's privacy?" Viktor asked. "The next time Abby comes over, your baby pictures are being left out for the world to see." Stasi fumed savagely, in her accent. Viktor blanched. "Oh yeah?" He asked, nervously. "I'll just show Chris your baby pictures!" "Good luck with that." I laughed. "Stasi and I were best friends since we were five. I'm in like ninety percent of the embarrassing ones." The three of us playfully argued back and forth, crossing the parking lot to the Administration Building. As soon as we crossed the threshold, Viktor peeled off to his first period class, leaving Stasi and I in the somewhat populated lobby. "Didn't Viktor say the bell was about to ring?" I asked. "He probably just got bored of waiting around for us." Stasi replied. She reached over and grabbed my left hand, craning her head to look at the chunky watch strapped to my wrist. "We still have a few more minutes until the bell rings." "Alright. I'm going to go check in with Mrs. Casarano." I said. "Coming?" "You know I am." Stasi replied. I resisted the urge to grin widely. I loved it when we were together and hated it when we parted, even if it was going to be for a few minutes. I was super clingy when it came to Stasi. Anytime she was away from me, I physically felt broken. I knew she felt the same way about it too. It was as if ever since we became a couple, we couldn't stay too far away from each other without going crazy with anxiety. "What's got you smiling, Chris?" Mrs. Casarano asked, looking up from her computer. She was following the School Spirit Friday's trend, a royal blue t-shirt with the Belcourt Minotaur emblazoned on the front. "I can't go see my favorite receptionist without her asking why I'm smiling?" I asked, defensively. "I'm the only receptionist at this school." Mrs. Casarano remarked, her cat ears flopping. She smiled at Stasi. "Hello, Anna." "Good morning, Mrs. Casarano." Stasi said, startled. It was like she didn't expect Mrs. Casarano to even acknowledge her, much less speak to her. "Have you been keeping our school president in check?" Mrs. Casarano asked, mischievously. "Uh... da. I mean, yes. He's been behaving." Stasi replied, awkwardly. "Good," Mrs. Casarano said. "But, you never answered my question." "What question?" I asked, dumbly. "What in the world has you smiling and in such a good mood?" Mrs. Casarano asked, raising her eyebrow. "Well, it is Friday." I pointed out. "And I kind of have my amazing and super awesome girlfriend next to me as well as my totally infallible receptionist." "Ok, I'll bite." Mrs. Casarano clicked something on her computer before leaning back in her chair. Her fluffy tail stood up behind her, poking through her modified spinny chair. "What do you two need?" "Finally we get to the important stuff," I chirped up. "I need to know if you have anything for me?" "Ah, and the real Christopher shows his true colors. I don't know why you put up with him, Anna." "Neither do I at times." Stasi said sardonically. "Hey!" I argued. "I'm not that bad." "Of course you aren't," Stasi giggled, giving me a kiss on the cheek to placate me. "That's why I said 'at times'." "Never ever change you two." Mrs. Casarano laughed. "You know Chris, maybe if you checked your school e-mail like you're supposed to, Principal Finch wouldn't have to have me playing personal secretary." She opened her drawer, pulling out a filled manilla folder. "This is all the information about the Shrimp Feed happening next week. Please don't lose it. You also have a meeting with Ms. Euthixie at lunch in one of the conference rooms." I plucked it from her grasp, smiling widely. "Thanks, Mrs. Casarano." "You're welcome." Mrs. Casarano grunted. "Now get to class or your teacher will mark you tardy. I'm not writing any passes for you today." "Right on. Let's go, Stasi." "Bye, Mrs. Casarano." Stasi said, waving. "Good bye, Anna." With our fingers intertwined, we exited out into the morning air of the Belcourt High School Quad, walking across the campus to our first class of the day, AP Stats. "You have a meeting at lunch?" Stasi asked, breaking the silence. "Yup." I replied, popping the 'p'. "I'm talking with Ms. Euthixie about the Shrimp thing happening next week and a couple of other stuff." "Want me to be there?" She asked. "At the meeting, I mean. I'm already going to the Shrimp Feed for volleyball." "It's fine." I said, quickly. The meetings I had as school president were mind numbingly boring. There was no way I was putting Stasi through that. "It wasn't a question." Stasi giggled. She stopped us in the middle of the quad, made sure no one was around, and swooped me in for a swift and passionate kiss that left the both of us breathless. "I'm showing up for the meeting." "You're showing up for the meeting." I affirmed. "Good boy." Stasi said, her pale cheeks pink. ****** If you ever looked at a picture of Viktor and I in our football pads with a trained eye, you'd know that we were wearing ZeroImpact Football Helmets. You could probably buy one for four hundred dollars. They were very reliable helmets, designed to reduce impact by 'crumpling' like a car bumper. I mean, not like crumple-crumple. They simply conformed to the impact, supposedly slowing the violent motion our heads took whenever we got tackled, preventing us from getting major brain damage. Anyways, I digress. What do you know about high school sports? Here's what my friends would think. If you asked Lucy, she'd probably say something about getting out and getting active. If you asked Jazz, she'd probably say something about watching dudes with a combined IQ of three run into each other at full speed for entertainment. A lot of people might say that high school sports were all about bringing pride to your school or species, or whatever. But, in the end, here was what high school sports were all about... or what the administration wanted high school sports to be about. To them, it was supposed to be all about making money selling tickets and advertisements. Bringing pride to our species was just a bonus. Do you know what I see when I look at that picture of Viktor and I? I see a four hundred dollar helmet, two hundred dollar jersey, eighty dollar gloves, a hundred dollar game pants, forty dollar socks, and one hundred and forty dollar cleats. It costs nine hundred and seventy dollars to outfit a Belcourt High School Varsity Football Player for one season, and that's not counting any extra stuff, like special species accommodation or bus transportation fees. That was just one person for one sport. Who could blame the school for trying to fundraise a little? "Alright Chris," Ms. Euthixie began. "So it's confirmed that you and Annie going to be there, right?" "Yep, I already talked with her about it and she said for sure that we're going." I replied. "That's like the fifth time you asked that. Why is it so important that we're there?" "Because, it's on Valentine's Day," She replied. "I know how busy you can get, with State Championships coming along. This is an important event to the school and you're both kind of... oh, stop blushing. I'm going to compliment you whether you like it or not. As I was saying, you're both kind of a big deal. A lot of people want to see you two, you know. You guys are the only interspecies couple that the news seem to love to report on... probably because you guys are just so cute and perfect together. Although, it does seem that you did start a bit of a trend here at school with interspecies dating." "I don't feel like a big deal." I mumbled. "Well, you are. I'm sure if there was ever such a thing called the Belcourt High School Hall of Fame, you'd be a first-ballot. Not because you're human either... although that probably has a big part of it. Being a human at an all-monster school." Ms. Euthixie declared. "Look at your list of accolades: school president, captain of the football team and hockey team, and looked up to by half the freshman class. A lot of people, and not just people that are related to the school mind you, are going to be at the event and want to meet you. People with deep pockets if you're picking up what I'm putting down." Everyone who grew up in San Francisco, or the Bay Area in general, had a wild affinity for seafood. Seafood was everywhere. For that very reason, Belcourt High School was hosting an all-you-can-eat seafood feed. Why a bunch of adults would come to Belcourt on Valentine's Day, I didn't know. Maybe it was for the food or the dancing. But, I liked to think it was for the food. Supposedly, a few popular nonhuman chefs would be helping out, volunteering their services for free. Ms. Euthixie ran the menu by me and it actually sounded quite good. I'd probably have bought a few tickets for Stasi and I had the tickets not been forty bucks a pop! "Do we know how many people are going to be there?" I asked. "Alot." Ms. Euthixie enthused. "We sold a lot of tickets. We actually might have to ask the custodians if we can borrow a few more tables for the multi-purpose room." "That's great." I said with as much faux enthusiasm that I could muster. Even though I was going to show up for sure, being the school president and all, becoming a waiter with my girlfriend was not how I wanted to spend my Valentine's Day. "Oh, you're such a sport! You and Annie are going to do great." Ms. Euthixie beamed. She packed away the documents into the manilla folder. "Right, that should be every-.." "What about security?" I interrupted. "What about it?" Ms. Euthixie asked. "Well, you know... every event this school has ever hosted hasn't exactly gone unnoticed by human supremacists." I said awkwardly. "The Fall Carnival, every one of our home games. Every away game. Protestors always showed up and ruined all the fun, you know?" Ms. Euthixie's green face hardened. "Good point. I'll make sure to call the local police department and ask if they can lend a few officers. If anything, we can get Officer Adkins to handle security. All the protesting idiots need to see is a badge and they'll slink away." "Good idea." I mumbled. In truth, I didn't think it was a good idea at all. I was actually quite indifferent to her idea. Officer Adkins, our M-SRO, was more likely to harass the people attending the seafood feed rather than keeping protesters at bay. "Anything else you wanted to bring up?" Ms. Euthixie asked, her hand on the door. "Didn't Principal Finch say something about reprimanding some of the packs?" I questioned. "Reprimanding a pack." She corrected. "She only wants to punish the Belichick Pack. They were going a bit too crazy at the local park and made a bunch of noise. This is their fifth infraction too." A small smile lit up her face. "Do you know what their excuse was?" "What?" I was actually quite curious. "They said they were chasing a bunch of falcons and got excited." She giggled. "Can you believe that?" "Maybe they were chasing a bunch of falcons." I said diplomatically. "Wait, are falcons even native to California?" "Only a few," Ms. Euthixie said. She was big on the environment and nature... given her dryad heritage. "Principal Finch is thinking of taking away their right to the Belichick Pack's first few picks." "That's a bit steep." I observed. Belcourt students could only transform at will in the safety of their property. It was the law. If they wanted to do it in public places, like the large open-air parks of San Francisco, they had to sign up for certain days on a sheet that was overseen by the school and local police department. Unauthorized public transformations incurred severe penalties. Anyways, each Pack was allocated a few picks for the whole month and the picks were used to pick certain days of the week. Most of the first round picks were used to reserve weekends since they could stay out late. If their picks for the month were taken, that'd pretty much guarantee no weekend outings for the whole pack. "Maybe you could have a talk with the Pack leader. I'm sure they'll listen to you." Ms. Euthixie suggested. "I guess I will." I decided. "Hey, can I borrow the conference room for the remainder of lunch?" "Sure. Staff doesn't need it." Ms. Euthixie said. "Need some place quiet to do homework?" "Something like that." I replied. "I don't want to do a lot of walking around because my knee will start acting up. I'd rather sit in one place, if you don't mind." "Alrighty, just don't." Ms. Euthixie opened the door and stepped outside, bumping right into Stasi. "Oh, hello Annie." Her eyes widened in recognition and she looked from me to Stasi, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. "Don't get up to anything I wouldn't get up to, kiddos." She finally said, with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We won't." I replied, my face as red as a tomato. "You don't have to worry about a single thing." "Right.." Ms. Euthixie said, drawing out the word. "How are you, Annie?" "I'm fine, Ms. Euthixie." She said, politely in her accent. Her pale, delicate face was as red as mine! "How are you?" "I'm as triumphant as a tree, thank you. Say, where did you get that cardigan?" Stasi looked down at herself in alarm. "This one?" She asked, nervously. "Yes! It looks great on you!" Ms. Euthixie enthused. I leaned forward to look around Ms. Euthixie to get a good look at Stasi's outfit and I wholeheartedly agreed. The burgundy cardigan hugged and accentuated her sensuous curves, providing a sharp contrast to her dark jeans and white shirt. "Oh, wow. Thank you. I think I got it... at uh... Kirby's. That store in the Pacific Mall." "Kirby's? Isn't all his clothing custom made?" Ms. Euthixie asked. "He has some stuff that come off the rack." Stasi explained. "I got this on clearance for like thirty rubles... I mean, dollars!" "I'll have to shop there more often." Ms. Euthixie declared, looking at Stasi's outfit with an appraising eye. "Alright, well, I shouldn't take up too much of your lunch. In you get." Ms. Euthixie stepped aside so Stasi could enter. After muttering a quick thank you, Stasi shyly ducked in, setting the plastic bag down on the large wooden conference table. My face lit up as soon as she walked in and her face lit up as soon as she laid eyes on me. Like I said earlier, when we were apart, I didn't feel whole. But when we were together, I felt like I could run to the moon and back. "Have fun, kiddos." Ms. Euthixie said. With one last look and a sigh of contentment, Ms. Euthixie closed the door to the conference room, leaving the both of us alone. "Hey, Stasi." I said, warmly. "Hi." She replied, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a kiss. "I missed you. Sorry I couldn't come to the meeting. I was grabbing us food." "No worries." I said, leaning forward to look over her shoulder and into the bag with anticipation. "What'd you get?" "Only what you said you were craving for a whole week." Stasi murmured into my neck, hugging me tightly before letting go and pulling out two tupperware salad bowls from the plastic bag. "Beet and potato salad?" I gasped. "Really?" "You guessed it." Stasi said, grinning widely. I could never get over how much her large fangs accentuated her smile. "Mama had some leftover beets from the borscht. While you were hogging the shower, I went and asked if she could prepare this and drop it off for us." "You're amazing, you know that?" I enthused. "Thanks," Stasi replied, flipping her raven hair. "I'd like to say that I try... but I really don't." Laughing, we set up for our lunch. Each of us had a moderately sized bowl (even though mine did appear to have a little more helpings of salad packed into it) and soon enough, we dug in, ravenous from a day at school. We were pretty conscious not to completely pig out, though. We didn't want to leave a mess for the janitor. That'd be a one-way ticket to being banned from using the conference rooms for ourselves ever again. "Are you free after school?" Stasi asked, taking a sip of tea from her steel growler. Interestingly, it had a sticker of my blood type on the side. "Probably. We don't have hockey practice after school. Why?" I asked. "Everyone wants to get together at the Pacific Mall." Stasi said. "Isn't it supposed to rain?" I questioned. "Da, no ona vse ravno budet interesno vozit'sya." Stasi said, pointing her fork at me. "I guess you're right," I admitted. "I have to go look around for your birthday present, anyways." "My birthday present?" Stasi asked, an inquisitive look on her face. "Yes, your birthday present," I said. "You know, the present you usually get for your birthday?" "Chris, I love you and all, but really, you don't have to get me a birthday present." Stasi mumbled shyly, her face turning as red as the beet salad. "Yes, I do have to get you a birthday present. You're my best friend and I'm going to spoil you. Trust me, it's going to be amazing... although, I don't think it'll be able to top the coupon book and photo frame that you got me." I admitted. "Those were the best gifts I ever got, hands down." My vampiric best friend swelled up in pride when I said her gifts were the best. They really were. "You don't think it'll be able to top the coupon book, huh?" Stasi giggled, the tension in the room vanishing. "I'm not sure why you think that present was so amazing if you still haven't cashed in any of the fun coupons, yet." "I'm saving them for a rainy day." I shot back. "Rainy like today?" Stasi asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. "Yup. Rainy like today." I affirmed, leaning forward. "I think we'll have to stop by your house before we go out to the Pacific Mall, then." Stasi said, her breathing becoming noticeably heavier. "Do we?" I asked, feeling that familiar straining in my groin. "We definitely do." Stasi murmured sultrily in her accent, before sealing my lips in a passionate kiss that made my toes curl. Chapter 3: It was surreal how normal everything looked at the Pacific Mall. It was almost as if it wasn't the epicenter of one of the most traumatic incidents the city had ever gone through. The damage had been shoveled away, the burned out stores repaired, the blood wiped clean... the bodies zipped and carried to their final resting points. The wounds had healed and turned into nothing but scar tissue, displaying subtle indications of the violence that occurred. Some of the boutiques that had taken severe damage were closed down, darkened husks holding nothing but empty shelves. Like I said, scar tissue. Rather than stop by my house, we went straight to the mall. Everybody met together as planned. Lucy, Jazz, Ricky, Viktor, Elena, Abby, and a few schoolmates that were invited. We ate, talked, and walked. But, as we were walking, slowly but surely, everyone else began to peel off and the size of our group dwindled until it was finally just Stasi and I. Rather than try and find everyone else, we decided to just do what we really wanted to do: enjoy the presence of each other. With no real plan in mind, we ended up just walking and talking, our hands intertwined. Just how I liked it. That's why I liked being at the Pacific Mall. It was a place just for us, where we didn't having to worry about the DTOSA. We could just be what we were: best friends who were in deep and passionate love with each other (and tried to keep their PDA to a minimum). We kept walking. The Pacific Mall had an interesting layout. It was designed in a circle, with a center being the hub of all the activity. Stasi and I walked until we got to the center, where we were caught by surprise. Hung smack down in the middle for everyone to see was a banner of a muscular Belcourt Minotaur on skates. Below the Minotaur was our team motto and a list of the jersey numbers of our team. "The Pacific Mall is certainly getting into the Minotaur pride," Stasi observed happily. "They even have the team motto!" Our team motto, Rise Up was first tweeted by a group of students who came to one of our basketball games. It soon caught on with Belcourt Athletics and it didn't take long for it to take off with the rest of the school. It could be interpreted in so many different ways that it resonated with everyone. It could mean becoming a better version of yourself or rising up and taking that championship. To me, I interpreted my team motto a bit different. I defined it as rising up and not letting someone's opinion of you becoming your reality. "Did I ever tell you that Rise Up is catchy?" Stasi asked, resting her head on my shoulder and gazing up at me with those crystal blue eyes of hers. Her face was shiny with the flecks of rain that lightly drizzled over us. "Yes. Countless times." I replied, kissing her on the forehead. "Well, the phrase Rise Up is catchy." Stasi declared. We admired the banner a little longer before we mutually decided to keep on walking around. Even with my knee, I wasn't complaining. I was with my best friend. With her around, I could never complain about anything. Stasi however, soon grew weary of walking even if she didn't explicitly tell me or complain. She didn't have to say anything. As her best friend, I just knew. That minute drag of her feet, the way she longingly looked through the windows of some of the stores. I knew what she wanted. As soon as we passed by one of her favorite stores, I decided to stop in my tracks and drag her in. I knew how much the Sokolov women loved shopping. In fact, I was pretty sure Stasi wanted to spend today shopping until she dropped. Even though she was effortlessly beautiful, Stasi was huge on fashion, rivaled only by Elena. She just didn't want to burden me because I was on a pair of crutches. "Where are you going, zaichik?" Stasi asked when I began to veer into the store. "Shopping." I told her. "No we're not. I really don't need any new clothes." Stasi argued halfheartedly. "Well, I do." I insisted, pulling her into the store. "This is for me." The store was empty, save for a few sales associates who greeted us as we walked in. "This is a clothing store for females." She pointed out, giggling. "Don't judge me." I laughed. "Then don't judge me for buying out the entire store." Stasi replied, giving me a dazzling fangy grin before pecking me on the lips and letting go of my hand regretfully to browse the racks. While I debated how I was going to carry her bags, a college aged harpy approached me, looking at me quizzically. "Can I help you?" She asked. "Uh..." I began. "No, I'm just here with my girlfriend. She's around here somewhere." "I'm here!" Stasi said, sifting through the jeans. "There she is." I laughed. "Ah, playing the dutiful boyfriend, yes?" The harpy giggled. "Something like that." I said, my voice trailing off. The harpy was looking at me kind of funny, squinting and taking me in as if I were some kind of alien from Area 51. "Is there... is there something wrong?" "No, no... it's just... do I know you from somewhere?" "Do you go to Belcourt?" "No, but... yes!" The harpy exclaimed, flapping her wings and making the other saleslady look at our direction. "That's where you're from! You're Chris Williams, aren't you?" "Um..." I began. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Stasi peeking over the racks, looking at me with a mixed expression on her face. On one hand, she loved it when I got put under the microscope. She always said I looked like a deer in the headlights. On the other, she probably didn't like this harpy being all up in my grill. "I mean..." "You are Chris Williams! I have to have a picture! You look so much better in person than you do in the photos!" The harpy screeched, making the back of my head throb. "Oh, to have Chris Williams in our store. I knew I shouldn't have called in sick today! I read about the game in Monsters Illustrated. Do you think you're going to take home the title? Oh my god, I'd love to show those humans that we're better!" "I'm human." I noted. That hardly seemed to diminish the harpy's excitement. "Yeah, well, I know you are but I mean, you go to Belcourt! You're practically one of-..." "Excuse me," Stasi asked, politely. She had a pair of stylish skinny jeans folded on her arm. "Do you think I could have this in my size so I could try it on?" The harpy finally stopped, looking down at the jeans on Stasi's arm. "Oh... sure. I'll meet you in the back." She took Stasi's jeans, hopping off into the storage room to find her size. I breathed a sigh of relief, looking at Stasi lovingly. Always coming to my rescue. "Spasibo." I said, gratefully. "Pozhaluysta. The way the bint was acting was bothering me." Stasi muttered in her accent. "Hey," I caressed her cold cheeks softly. "Don't worry about her. Don't even think about her." "I'm not," Stasi huffed, defensively. "It's just-... mmf!" I cut her off, grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a soft kiss on the lips. I pulled back and took Stasi in. She was breathing rather heavily, her elongated fangs accentuating her soft smile. "You're thinking too much." I gently scolded. Stasi looked at the ground in embarrassment before looking back at me brightly. She made a fist and softly punched me on the arm."Ty prav." She admitted. "I am thinking too much." She grabbed my hand with her cold one, leading me to the changing rooms. "Come on, I want to model for you." "Sounds perfect." I replied, happily following her. I slowly felt my cock hardening in my pants, aroused by the prospect of seeing Stasi's perfect body on display for me to see in a pair of curve-hugging skinny jeans. This is what made shopping fun! We went to the back and Stasi collected the pair of jeans from the harpy. Although she was all smiles, my best friend was rather close to me, her side pressing up against mine. Thankfully, the harpy took the hint, stiffly handing over the pair and leaving us to find a changing room. The rooms provided for us were actual rooms arranged in a row, complete with a chair and full-length mirror. Stasi chose the one farthest one down the hall. When I made to sit down outside on one of the plushy sofas, I found a cold hand tugging on my arm. "What?" I asked. "In." Stasi said, looking at me wickedly. "What? What do you mean-..." "Yes. In!" She commanded, a wide fangy grin splitting her delicate face. I hobbled in and sat down on the chair inside, leaning my crutches against the wall. Stasi closed the door behind us, the lock automatically activated. It was actually quite spacious inside of the changing room. Stasi hanged up the jeans and her cardigan, wound her arms around my neck, and gave me a deep, passionate kiss, rubbing her breasts tantalizingly against my chest. Then, she withdrew and looked down at me, her big blue eyes making me melt. "Am I in Vegas?" I asked. "Are you in... what?" Stasi asked, a perplexed expression forming on her face. "It was... oh come on. It was a stripper joke." I said, cheekily. Have you ever wanted a guardian angel? When I was younger, I really wanted one. Not to protect me from getting hit by a car on the way to school, or to guard me from the people that bullied Stasi, Lucy, and I, but one that would strictly tell me to shut up whenever I was about to say something stupid. Normally, that was Stasi's job... but I'd kill for a Guardian Angel that would do it without the consequences involved. Consequences like having an angry Russian vampire on your hands. "A stripper joke?" Stasi spluttered sharply in her accent. "A stripper joke?! I dare you, make another one and you're waiting outside while I get changed!" "Ok, ok, ok!" I said, holding up my hands. "I'm sorry! It was a bad joke." Stasi made a face and then sighed, cupping my cheeks with her hands, her cold touch doing absolute wonders for my erection. We could never go long keeping our hands off each other. I needed her touch to function, just like how much she needed mine. "You're lucky I love you so much, dummy." She said, giving me one last swift kiss before stepping back. "Otherwise, I'd have kicked your butt to Siberia a long time ago." Her hands moved to her dark jeans, unbuttoning them, all the while keeping eye contact with me. I watched, mesmerized, as she wiggled herself out of them, revealing inch after inch of deliciously alabaster skin. "You're so perfect." I moaned. "Thanks," Stasi replied, blushing. I was surprised she could still blush, considering that it was getting quite close to that time of the month. Feeding. "You're not so bad yourself... well, I mean, you're more than 'not bad', you're actually quite-... nevermind. I'm thinking too hard. I'm going to stop before I completely ruin the mood." "That'd be a good idea." I advised. Stasi narrowed her eyes and pulled off the remainder of her jeans, quickly throwing them at me and getting me in the face. "Dork." She mumbled. Laughing, I pulled them off of me. When my eyes came across the love of my life, my breath was taken away. Stasi stood proud, refusing the urge to wither under my gaze and cover herself with her arms. She had her hands on her hips, wearing nothing but her white blouse and a pair of purple panties. Even though she wasn't completely naked, I felt this was more attractive. I could just make out the parts of her body that I knew so intimately. I knew every inch of her body. From her long, smooth legs to her curvy waist to the gentle swellings of her supple breasts... not a thing marred her beauty. "Like what you see?" She asked, her fangs accentuating her alluring smile. "Very much." I said sincerely, my breathing becoming noticeably heavy. My eyes locked onto hers. "I love what I see. It's perfect. You're perfect. Everything about you is perfect." "You're being biased. Any more of that and my head won't be able to fit inside of this room." Stasi noted, her cheeks burning. "Too bad I'm going to be covering up in a pair of jeans, eh?" She tore her eyes away from me, turning to the pair of skinny jeans. Slowly but surely, she took them off of the rack and unfolded them. They were a dark denim and I was absolutely sure they'd look good on her. Stasi unbuttoned them and stepped into them, pulling them up to her waist. Her movements were slow and sensuous. She wanted to give me a show that we'd both enjoy, but there was just one problem. The jeans never got past her thighs. I raised my eyebrow, watching as Stasi did the usual things to try and get into a pair of skinny jeans. She jumped, sucked in her breath, wriggled, squirmed, swore in English, swore in Spanish, swore in Russian- that kind of stuff. I've seen her wear skinny jeans before (and they looked phenomenal and sexy on her), but this particular pair looked way too tight. "Stasi, are you ok?" I asked, concerned. "I'm fine!" She replied loudly, her face as red as a tomato. She tugged at the jeans again, "Just when I try to feel sexy, bog udaryayet menya vniz." "You look sexy without even trying." I said sincerely. "But, do you need help?" "No," She replied quickly, before giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the offer, Chris, but I got it." It looked like anything but. She struggled for a few more minutes but she had her limits when it came to patience. When she finally gave up, she was looking away from me, her eyes glued to the floor. All I could see was her back and the jeans that were halfway up her shapely butt. Her shoulders were sagged and she was shaking. Whether it was from her being angry or flooded with despair, I didn't know. "Chris?" My best friend asked weakly, making my heart break. "Yeah?" "Help." She whispered. "Please." "Alright, give me a second." I stood up shakily on one leg, hopping over to her. "What's wrong?" "I ca-... can't..." She struggled to say the next words, holding her hand to her mouth. "I can't get these off." "Huh?" I stared at her. "I'm... I'm stuck." She mumbled. I came up behind her. The jeans looked practically painted on. Too painted on, in fact. They looked so tight that it was really uncomfortable. "Alright, here... let me just..." I hooked my fingers through the belt loops of the jeans. "I'm going to count to three, ok?" "Ok." Stasi said, her voice cracking. "One..." I began. "Two... Three!" Trying to make a miracle happen, I began to yank Stasi out of her jeans. I was stronger than her, but it was still difficult as hell. Every time I yanked, I jarred Stasi's body. It wasn't until she started sniffling that I stopped. "Stasi?" I asked, spinning her around. My heart wrenched when I saw her face. "Are you... are you crying?" She was so strong and independent... or at least she tried her best to be. It made my heart break when I heard her cry. "You said I wasn't getting fat!" She bawled in her thick Russian accent, wiping fiercely at her eyes. "I am getting fat! This is so humiliating! I gained so much weight that I can't even fit into my own size anymore. I'll have to give all my clothes to Elena!" "Stasi, listen to me. You're not giving anything to anyone unless you want to. You're freaking gorgeous. I'd still love you with whatever body type you have. I don't know what you're talking about when you say you're getting fat." I replied. Her words didn't make any sense at all. Even though Stasi and I were massive food lovers (especially of Yulia's fattening food), she was the same as ever. "You're still the same weight! You didn't change at all." "I did! I gained so much weight that I can't fit." She sniffled, wiping furiously at her cheeks. Parts of her hand was stained red from the tears of blood. "Check the tag!" I pulled the back of the jans, checking the tag. I had to crane my neck to look at them. The number that looked back at me made me raise an eyebrow. Stasi always stored clothes in my closet, just like how I stored some of my clothes in hers, and the number I saw didn't quite add up. "Stasi...?" I began. "What size did you ask for?" "I asked for a five." She hiccuped. "Great, because the harpy gave you a two." I said. "I... I..." Stasi stammered. "What?" "The harpy." I repeated. "Gave you a two. It says two right here." "Are you sure?" Stasi asked. "I'm sure!" "I don't... I... why?" Stasi stammered, her brain trying to piece together sentences from a bunch of words flying through her head. "Here, just... shush. Stop thinking so hard, you're hurting my brain." I reassured her. "I'm going to get you out of these, then you can take a look at them and see for yourself that you're the same Anastasia Sokolov that I love. The same best friend that I fell in hopeless love with. Now do me a favor. I need you to turn around then I'm going to count to three. When I say three, I want you to suck in the biggest breath you can and tighten your milo bomzh. Can you do that?" Stasi nodded mutely, turning around so her back was facing me. "Alright, ready? One... two..." "Chris?" Stasi interrupted meekly. "Thr-... Yes?" "You're my best friend and I appreciate you." She whispered. "So much. I'm so lucky to have you. You keep me sane and I love you for it." "You keep me sane too." I replied, leaning forward and kissing her on the neck. "Alright, here we go. One, two... three!" It took a lot of pulling, yanking, grunting, swearing, and exertion. It was a wonder that we didn't alert the salesladies to our plight because we were loud. At least, I think we were loud. Finally, I managed to pry Stasi out of her skinny jeans, making a satisfied grunt when they finally came away. Good thing they came off when they did too. I wasn't sure if I was out of shape or not. When they finally came off, it felt like I ran a five minute mile! Stasi didn't fare much better. We both looked as if we just had mind blowing sex. "Spasibo." Stasi gasped, turning around and wrapping me in a tight hug, crushing her wonderful and supple breasts against my chest. "Whew! Don't mention it." I breathed, holding the bunched up goddamn-I-hate-you skinny jeans in my hand, wrapping my arms around her. "Want to take a look at the tag?" "Yes, please." She replied, letting go and instantly making me miss her presence, even if she was next to me. She plucked the jeans out of my hands, her cold fingers brushing against mine.. There were some bloody tear tracks on her cheeks, but they did nothing to mar her beauty. Somehow, they actually accentuated her beauty... in a bizarre way. When her blue eyes finally glanced at the number two, she let off a deep sigh of relief, dropping the jeans on the floor. She immediately attacked me in another hug, squeezing her cold body tightly against me. "Thanks, Chris." She breathed. "Ugh, I look awful right now, don't I?" "No, you look amazing as always and you're welcome. If you don't mind me asking though, why'd you get so bent out of shape over something so trivial? You know I don't care about that kind of stuff." In short, why'd you cry over something that you knew I never cared about? "I don't know." Stasi mumbled after a moment, her smile fragile. "Ever since we got together, I just had trouble with my emotions when it comes to you, we both know that. Maybe I was just in agony that I'd have to throw away all my clothes or maybe it's because I just want to be as beautiful as I can be for you, because you of all people deserve it." "No, you look perfect! I don't even deserve you!" I exclaimed. "Look at you! You're perfect and I'm just... I'm just a skinny guy that needs a haircut." "Do you mean that?" She asked, self consciously. "Not the skinny guy and haircut thing. That's blatantly false. But I mean, do you really mean what you said? "Yes!" I said, exasperated. "Of course I do! I said it once, I said it a million times! You're smart, funny, down-to-earth and just... so many more adjectives that I can't seem to fit into this one sentence that I know for sure is going to be a goddamn run o-.... mmph!" Before I even realized what was happening, a pair of lips, so foreign yet so familiar to me, met my own. The taste of strawberries exploded in my mouth, being sweet and absolutely addictive. Tentatively, I could feel her dainty tongue begging for entrance and I allowed it, letting her explore my mouth. My best friend was kissing me as passionately as she could, running her hands around the back of my head. Even though we did stuff that was far more... extreme, I couldn't stop the familiar feeling of giddiness from spreading across my entire being. You had to have something taken away from you to really know how much it mattered and when Stasi and I were seperated after what happened at the Pacific Mall a month ago.... Never again was I going to take our intimate moments like these for granted. What felt like glorious years was actually just seconds. We needed air and I came up first, being the human and all. As a vampire, Stasi could just hold her breath longer. "Woah." I breathed. "You're being way too hard on yourself. Your hair is perfect, zaichik." Stasi gasped, her crystal blue eyes slowly giving away to black and shining with happiness. She brought her hands up, running them through my brown hair and ruffling it up. I actually quite liked growing it out of a buzz cut. I kept the sides short, mere millimeters from my ears and grew out the top. Her cold hand traveled down my face, making my breath hitch. "Everything..." "About you..." Her hand slithered into my jacket, settling over my beating heart. Her touch was sending electricity coursing through my veins, my overclocked heart pumping rapidly. "Is just..." The hand slid slowly down my stomach, gooseflesh popping up beneath her touch, even if it was through my clothes. "Perfect. From your height, to your handsome face, and your muscles." She finished, her hand settling on my groin and giving me a soft squeeze. I was hard and Stasi noticed, her face lighting up in a smile. "Especially this muscle. Someone's ready for me." "I was ready for you since we met Kindergarten." I said before my eyes bugged out. Remember what I said about having a Guardian Angel watch me specifically for saying stupid shit like this? I felt like I could've fried an egg on my face."Wait just... that... that came out super wrong! I wasn't like that in Kindergarten! I didn't mean like... you know!" Stasi was looking at me wide-eyed and I wondered if I just earned a ticket out of the changing room and into the seats outside. I mean, I kind of told her that I was ready to have sex with her ever since kindergarten (even though I completely and honestly wasn't. Who was ready for sex at age five?!) I'd be lying if I didn't think she wasn't cool in Kindergarten. That was the age where all boys thought girls were repulsive, right? It wasn't until I started the third grade that I really began to see her as cute, then age 13 as pretty, and finally age 18 as beautiful. Like I said, I was expecting her to go off the rails but she all she did was surprise me. She burst into laughter. A lot of laughter in fact. Like so much laughter that I had to hold her in place to keep her from sliding to the floor. "It wasn't that funny," I complained, despite the corners of my mouth twitching. It was adorable how gleefully she was laughing. Her laughter was enough to make any day, no matter how bad it was, considerably brighten. "Ok, maybe it was a bit funny..." "No, it was just really funny." She choked out, trying to hold in her laughter. "You should've seen your face!" I knew trying to get her stop was futile, so I simply watched her go through the motions of trying to stop laughing but only laughing harder until finally, the bouts of cackling was reduced to mere giggles. By the time she calmed down, her raven hair was slightly disheveled, but she was no less beautiful. "Whew," Stasi began. "Alright, now that we got your hormonal five year old self out of the way, where were w-.." Her eyes widened and her soft giggling immediately ceased. I went to ask her what was wrong before she clamped her hand over my mouth, shutting me up instantly. Her ears were perked up and I struggled to hear what she was listening out for. Finally, I heard it. The ruffle of feathers. The 'sh' sound of feet... or talons rather, on carpet. Then, a loud knocking. Four quick raps. "Miss, are you alright in there?" A voice asked from beyond the door. The wood was thick enough that her voice was almost too quiet for me to hear. "Do you need any help? You've been taking an awful amount of time." "I'm fine!" Stasi replied, her voice a few octaves higher than it should have been. She must've not wanted the harpy to come in. Hell, I didn't want her to come in! Imagine if she saw Stasi in her panties and the both of us breathing rather heavily. That wouldn't look very good to the average stranger. "Alright, then. Do you know where your boyfriend Chris is? He doesn't appear to be out here." Stasi narrowed her eyes angrily. I knew what that meant. She was either going to snarl something unpleasant in Russian and have the harpy scratching her head in confusion or say something in English that was going to offend her and get us kicked out of the store. I grabbed her arm before she could open her mouth and spew out an exorbitant amount of harsh accented vitriol. "Bathroom." I mouthed. "I'm in the bathroom." "He went to the bathroom!" Stasi said loudly. "Oh... alright. Well, if you see him can you-..." "Yes, yes!" Stasi barked. "I'll tell him!" "Thank you!" The harpy said brightly, turning around and walking off... or hopping... or flying... however harpies moved these days. We waited until Stasi was satisfied that the harpy was out of earshot before we both breathed a sigh of relief. "Possessive, are we?" I teased. Stasi stuck her tongue out at me, making me chuckle. "Nobody talks to my lyubov without my permission." "I wouldn't have it any other way. We're always getting interrupted when the going gets good, huh?" I sighed, disappointed and frustrated. "Want me to get out so you can get changed and we can leave?" "What? Why?" Stasi asked, confused. "Well, I mean... we're in a public place." I pointed out. "So? That didn't stop you earlier." Stasi challenged. "Are you becoming a chicken?" "I'm not a chicken." "Bawk-bawk! Bawk-bawk!" Stasi taunted, waving her arms as if she was a giant Russian chicken. I decided right there and then that only Stasi could pantomime a giant chicken and still make it look incredibly sexy. "You're really... you're really going to do this right now?" I asked, exasperated. "Bawk-bawk!" She cried. I wasn't surprised at her goading. She always tried to provoke me, especially when it came to certain situations in video games. For example, she always tried prodding me to go for it on fourth and long in Madden just so she could get the ball at my own five yard line. I was more surprised at what she was goading me about. Stasi was always so demure in public. Yet, here she was encouraging me to have sex with her in a changing room. She was so sexually confident that I couldn't help but love it. "Fine!" I began, unbuckling my belt. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to have sex with her. I always wanted to have sex with her. In truth, I needed her. I always needed her, emotionally, mentally, and physically, ever since I was a kid. Except right now, I needed her intimately. We were insatiable when it came to each other. Her body was like a drug and I was completely addicted. But, to be completely honest, the possibility of getting caught having sex in a changing room just scared and excited the hell out of me. Stasi would be able to hear if anyone was coming so we weren't in any real danger of getting caught.. Right? As I began to unzip my jeans and try to yank them off, Stasi decided to save us some time. She tore her smoldering eyes away from me and began to pull off her panties. They weren't anything special. None of the black lace sexy underwear that she always saved for special occasions with me. She was wearing her plain cotton ones. At this moment, I decided I liked them more. Alot more. I was quick with my jeans, kicking them aside along with my boxers into the corner of the room where they were followed by Stasi's panties. I didn't even wait for her to get settled. I scooped her up, holding her in my arms. Stasi wrapped her long, shapely legs around me and her arms tightly around my neck, pressing her sopping wet slit against my hard cock. "Stasi..." I began. "Yes, lyubov?" She asked, gazing at me with her hooded eyes lovingly. Her pupils were fully dilated now, her fangs as pronounced as ever. "Can you... can you help?" I asked, my cheeks flushing. "Can I what? Help you do what?" Stasi pressed, concerned. "Help with... I don't have any hands free and I don't want to drop you on accident and kill the mood." "Oh!" Stasi's right hand went out from around my neck, snaking down to my cock. Her sudden cold touch was enough to nearly make me drop her. "Woah!" She yelped. "Watch it Mr. Hockey Captain. I thought you were supposed to be strong." "Sorry!" I gasped. "It's just..." "Just what?" Stasi asked, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Am I too heavy for you?" "Net," I gasped. "Ty sovershenna. Vse o vas ideal'no." Stasi's face froze, her expression that of surprise. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach, suddenly wondering if I accidentally called her a fat cow instead of perfect. From having grown up with the her, I liked to think that my Russian skills were great but people always slipped up, right? "Your accent," She breathed. "What about it?" She fixed her smoldering cloudy and inky eyes on me. "Eto bylo ideal'no." She squealed. "Chris, I need you. Now." My face lit up in a smile when I realized she just complimented me on my accent. Stasi always said I needed to work on it and she just called it perfect! Unless Stasi just called my accent a fat cow. That'd be pretty awkward, I guess. Without further delay, Stasi guided the head of my cock to the slit of her pussy and sank down, the both of us gasping when I penetrated her up to the hilt. She was so warm and wet. "Welcome home, lyubov." She gurgled, kissing me on the cheek. I was slow at first, letting Stasi decide the pace by rocking up and down on my cock. I was getting ready, building up. Then, I really got into it, drawing myself out and thrusting into her, again and again in desperate movements. My best friend moaned and panted, then threw her head back, letting me attack the hollow of her throat, kissing, nibbling, and sucking at her sensitive area. After a moment, I pulled back to look at her. Drool was running down the side of her face, spilling onto her shirt. Her dark eyes were mesmerizing me, like they were staring deep into my soul. Her fangs were large, as large as they were when it was time to feed. Sweat was covering her red face in a fine sheen. Her long raven hair, like the flowing black night, was disheveled. She looked like a complete mess and she still looked like a goddess. Yet, it was my favorite feature of all that got the most attention. Her loving, affectionate, warm, fangy smile that I adored so much. I wasn't going to last long. With her, I never did. I always tried to hold off but it was always impossible. It felt like my body was on fire and her cold skin was only fanning the flames. "Please tell me you're close," I pleaded. "I'm not going to be able to last for another ten seconds." "Neither am I, lyubov... neither am I. I'm so close." She gasped. She tightened her arms around me, burying her face in my neck. "God, you're so warm." Somehow, I kept myself from exploding into her right then and there, although she was certainly doing her best to drive me off the cliff. My senses were wholly dominated by her. The intoxicating smell of the perfume in her hair, the sounds of her grunts, gasps, sighs, and soft moans, the way her soft and lithe body felt in my arms. I lowered my face into Stasi again, sealing her lips in a sloppy and messy, yet passionate kiss. We had no real regard for composure. All that mattered was just us. No stupid harpy, no stupid DTOSA, no looming State Championships, no friends that were probably talking to Mall Security asking if they found us. All that mattered was my best friend who was right in front of me, and whom I loved with all my heart. "Chris," Stasi gasped. "Yeah?" I groaned in reply. "I need you." She begged, withdrawing a hand from around my neck to caress my cheek. "Fill me with your love." Her touch was what did me in. Holding off from the impending orgasm was now impossible and I tightened my hold on her hips. With a few more thrusts, I felt my balls tighten and I came, my brain getting completely torn out from my head. I was absolutely overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through my veins until moments later when Stasi joined me. With a hand clamped over her mouth, she gave a muffled shriek of my name, her back arching in my arms. Whether it be the shocks of an intense orgasm, sheer bloodlust, or a mixture of both, Stasi's eyes turned wholly black, like they were peepholes into the dark abyss, and I saw the light glint off her sharp fangs before she sent her head forward with a loud hiss, aimed directly at my jugular vein. I didn't try to stop her. We both knew she needed to feed and Stasi knew (no matter how uncomfortable she was about feeding) that she was always free to feed off of me when she wanted. I just couldn't stop her from getting what she needed because I loved her so much. I let out a little gasp when she bit down on the skin, followed shortly by the same familiar foreign feeling of Stasi feeding off me. She moaned quietly after every mouthful, gently stroking the back of my head with her hands. I closed my eyes, starting to feel the familiar pounding at the back of my head. She was in complete control. I just knew she was. Right when I started to feel the effects of prolonged feeding: dizziness and lightheadedness, I began to fear that I'd drop my best friend on accident. But, it was as if she knew she was on the verge of taking too much. Stasi stopped, making one last muffled moan. She detached her razor sharp fangs from my neck, licking the wound to seal it. With a quiet sigh of contentment, she unwrapped her legs from around me and I gently set her down, slumping sideways until my shoulder hit the wall. I slid down to the floor until I was completely lying down, still feeling the after effects of my orgasm and Stasi's feed session. "Holy shit." I mumbled. Stasi looked at me and blinked, her crystal blue eyes roving all across me. Her face morphed into an expression of concern. "Chris?" She asked. "Lyubov, are you ok?" "I'm fine." I murmured tiredly, a blissful smile etched on my face. "That was great. We should do it again sometime. Sometime really soon." "Oh, Chris! I didn't mean to hurt you." Stasi moaned in her thick accent, covering me with her soft cold body protectively and giving me a tight hug, raining kisses down on my face. She was trembling from both the fear of having hurt me and our mind-blowing sex. "Did I take too much? I'm so sorry, lyubov. Please, forgive me." She pleaded. "Sorry?" I slurred. "What are you sorry for?" "I keep on taking your blood without even asking. I hate it. Oh God, if only I could live without being a vamp-.." "No.. no no no." I replied, my eyes drooping. "Don't you finish that sentence. You don't need to apologize or ask. You never have to." Stasi looked at me, her expressive crystal blue eyes shiny with unshed tears. They weren't tears of blood, though. They were real tears. Human tears. Human tears of love and happiness. Hot tears dripped off her sculpted, pale cheeks and onto my body. "Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you." She whispered, raising her cold hand tentatively and stroking my cheek. She looked so vulnerable that she couldn't help but pluck at my heartstrings. "I love you." "I love you, too. Hey, I have something to ask, though." I croaked. "What is it, lyubov?" Stasi asked, resting her head on my chest. "Can we go shopping more often?" Stasi's eyes widened and I wondered if I just earned myself a ticket out of the changing room until she shot me a dazzling grin. "You know, when I was younger, I dreamed that I'd hear those words come out of your mouth. Of course, I dreamed that you'd tell me you loved me when I fell in love with you but I always thought I'd hear you ask to go shopping more first before you told me you loved me." "You didn't answer my question." Stasi gently punched me on the arm, her face splitting in an even larger fangy grin. She looked so much more beautiful and healthy. "Of course we can go shopping more often, dummy. Who else do you think is going to hold all the bags?" She asked. "I guess I will." I decided. Stasi didn't reply, caressing my cheek and giving me another soft kiss on the forehead. I was content to lay there on the floor of the changing room and I swore I almost fell asleep before Stasi stood up and held out her hand to me. "What?" I asked. "I don't want to rush you but are you ready to leave? I think we outstayed our welcome." Her smile grew shy. "And we made a bit of a mess." "Well, I don't think I want to spend the rest of my life inside of a changing room so..." I said, teasingly. Stasi stuck her tongue out at me, but had her hand still outstretched. "There are so many ways I could reply to that," She said. "But I'm not going to. I love you too much right now to verbally destroy you. As a matter of fact, all I want to do right now is spoil you. Starting with giving you the best damn blowjob you ever got until you pass out." "Oh yeah?" I asked, an involuntarily shiver wracking my body. "Oh yeah. Just you wait until you get better and your body regenerates from my feeding." Stasi said softly, before shaking her hand in front of my face. "Are you going to take my hand now?" I took it and Stasi slowly helped me up, making sure to take it slow and gentle. She saw the look of pain on my face and knew I had a headache. The pounding at the back of my head had reduced to a dull throb. I was used to the headaches by now. They were nothing but a huge inconvenience for me. A huge painful inconvenience. The doctor said they'd disappear in time and I couldn't wait to finally wake up without feeling like someone was running around in my skull swinging a sledgehammer. "Thanks." I said, gratefully. "Don't mention it." Stasi replied. "Head still hurting?" "No." "Chris," She began threateningly. I couldn't lie to her. She always saw right through it. One of the side effects of growing up together, I guess. "Well, I mean... it hurts a little. It's fine. Don't worry." "We'll go home then." Stasi decided. "Then we'll put you to sleep. You need to rest." "Sounds good to me." I said, tiredly. We helped each other get dressed, shooting smiles at each other and made sure we were presentable. After fawning over me and making sure that I had my crutches and I was feeling alright, Stasi departed first, making sure the coast was clear before giving me the signal (a very loud "Bawk-bawk!"). Together, we left the store as casually as we could, awkwardly thanking the salesladies. I wasn't sure how Stasi felt, scurrying past them with a mixture of our sexual fluids running down her leg, but it must not have been great. We left with every intent to come back to buy the pair of skinny jeans that Stasi wanted once the harpy left. Chapter 4: Ding! I breathed a sigh of relief when the bell rang. My eyes nervously began to flit across my paper, trying to catch any mistakes I may have made. Grammar, content, spelling, anything. "That's the bell. Pencils up, please. No finishing up last thoughts." Mr. Zasor announced. "Yes, that includes you, Lucy." "Damn." Lucy mumbled, banging her forehead on the counter. I didn't blame her. The test was exceedingly difficult. I only managed to finish minutes before the bell rang. I struggled immensely. The letters and words seemed to always float in and out of focus, clear as day one moment, and blurry as ever the next. My vision perpetually blurred and I always seemed to lose focus on homework and tests ever since my incident with the brick, but it always occurred without fail days after Stasi fed off on me. It was confusing. I stood up, pushing in my chair and sliding on my backpack. I picked up my test, carrying it to the front of the room towards Mr. Zasor's desk. He looked up at me as I approached, holding out his paw for my test. "How was the exam, Christopher?" He asked. "Was it mentally stimulating enough for you?" "Yes, Mr. Zasor." I replied, placing the paper down on the growing table. "Nothing I couldn't handle." "I'd assume so." Mr. Zasor drawled. "That'd be quite the riot if you failed one of my tests for once." I blinked when he used the word 'riot'. Principal Finch, Mr. Zasor, and Ms. Euthixie were the only adults that knew that Stasi, Ricky, Viktor, and I snuck out during the San Francisco Riots to go bring Jazz home... at least, I hoped they were the only adults that knew. Why Mr. Zasor didn't report this to my parents or the authorities, I didn't know. "I try not too, sir." I said stiffly. "That's right." Mr. Zasor said. An awkward silence fell between us. "Well, you're free to go, Christopher." "I'm waiting for Lucy." I replied. "I'm here." Lucy said breathlessly, skittering over to the both of us. She set the test down at the top of the pile. "Thank you, Lucy." Mr. Zasor said. "Was the test difficult?" "Yes." Lucy said bluntly. I swore Mr. Zasor gave her a ghost of a frown, but instead, he smiled. "Good, then I did my job. You two are dismissed." Without a word, Lucy turned and left the class and I followed after her, saying my goodbyes to Mr. Zasor. When I caught up to her, her face was morphed into a sour expression. "I should report him to the police," She grumbled. "It's like he takes pride in torturing us. That test was so difficult. Dang flabbit, if my grade goes down..." "I'm sure you did fine." I said. "I should've stapled a dollar to my test." Lucy muttered. We both left the building, walking out into the quad and covering our heads with our binders. For five years, California was parched and begging for water. Now, we were being battered in it. Flooding was rampant up and down the state as storms became exceedingly common. On the bright side, the rain deterred a lot of the supporters of the fanatic DTOSA from coming out into public areas and spreading their agenda. It was almost as if everything was normal. In a way, the storm clouds that settled over our city was like a beacon of light, light that breached through the dark clouds of hate and racism, showing us that a world beyond the DTOSA existed. But then, the clouds covered up the light and we started again, anew. "Holy hell, it's pouring." Lucy yelped, skittering as fast as she could. I tried to keep up, but I didn't want to slip. I guess that's where she had the advantage. With eight legs, she didn't have to worry about one of her feet slipping. She had seven to make up for it. "No, really?!" I asked. "I think the weather is just fine and dan-... hey, Elena!" "Hey, Chris!" Elena cried, zipping past me. Like Stasi, she forgot to pack an umbrella and was taking her chances booking it through the rain. Her blonde ponytail was soaked and tendrils of hair was plastered to her forehead. "Bye, Elena!" "Bye, Chris!" "She's in a hurry." Lucy noted. "Well, she has to run from across campus to make it to class and not be tardy," I explained. "Besides, it's raining. I doubt she wants to get sick." "Speaking of sick," Lucy replied. "Are you feeling any better?" "Yeah, a bit. I still have a bit of a cold, though. You probably heard me sniffling throughout the entire test." "I did." Lucy admitted. "I was so close to throwing my pencil at you and ordering you to go get a tissue." Stasi, unfortunately, was still sick when we went out on Friday. Whatever she had, she passed it on to me. Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as she had it, manifesting in the symptoms of the common cold rather than the flu. I only hoped it would resolve itself by the time State Championships rolled around on Friday. State Championships and my last chance at getting a state title loomed ever closer. Hockey practices became more intense and less fun. Although Coach Butler tried to keep hockey practice as entertaining as he possibly could, the excitement of winning a state title and the nervousness of coming home empty handed was in every player's head, especially mine. Lucy and I trudged into the cafeteria, absolutely drenched from the rain. I brushed droplets of water off my gray jacket, the waterproof material keeping me dry from the neck down. The same couldn't be said for my head and hair. I stamped my feet on the matt at the door. The last thing I wanted to do was track in water and have someone slip on accident. That was a lawsuit waiting to happen. "Hola, amigos." Jazz greeted, looking up from her home. "Did you two just take a shower?" "What'd you call us?" Lucy asked, stealing a stool from another table. "Amigos. You know, like friends. In Spanish." Jazz explained. "You've been spending way too much time with Ricky." I replied, pulling off my backpack and plopping it down on the table. I pulled out my chair, taking a seat next to Stasi. "Hey, Stasi." "Hi, Chris." She replied, looking up from her science fiction novel and brushing her damp raven hair out of her eyes. The way she looked at me with her crystal blue irises made my heart melt. I felt happiness bubbling in my stomach, revelling in the fact that I grew up with this girl and despite every obstacle that faced us, we hurdled it, hand in hand. "Chris?" She asked, breaking me out of my reverie. "Lyubov, are you alright?" "Yes. Everything's alright." I whispered, before giving her a quick kiss on her soft, moist lips. "Save it for Valentine's Day, lovebirds." Jazz said, crinkling her nose. "Tishe." Stasi scolded, still looking dazed. "What?" Jazz asked, confused. "I don't speak Russian." "Ya znayu, chto vy ne delayete. No my delayem." I said, caressing Stasi's cold cheek. "What?" Jazz repeated. "Ona ne poluchayet vas, kak ya, lyubov." Stasi giggled, giving me a dazzling fangy grin and another soft kiss. Ever since I had her taken from me for a week, I always did my best to express my love for her. Whether it be sweeping her in for soft kisses on random occasions, letting her feed off of me, or letting her pick what game to play on the XBox first. I never wanted my best friend out of my sight. "Well, I'm jealous." Lucy admired. "You two are so cute together. I can't believe I waited this long for you two to start dating. You two are attached at the hip." "Thanks," Stasi replied, the both of our faces turning pink. "What are you doing for Valentine's Day, Lucy?" "School then I'm going home." She answered. "Next question." "Aw, come on." Jazz said. "You're telling me you don't have one person you don't want to get a Valentine's from?" "Why don't you go first, then?" Lucy shot back. "What? Me?" Jazz asked. "Yes, you. Who do you want to spend Valentine's Day with?" "I already have a Valentine, thank you very much." Jazz answered, inspecting the end of her tail. "Urgh... it's almost time for me to shed again." "What?! Don't change the subject!" Lucy sputtered. "You're supposed to tell me everything. Who are you spending Valentine's Day with?" "I'm not spending Valentine's Day with anybody. Valentine's Day is a day invented by Hallmark, so I invented my own holiday. It's called Anti-Valentine's Day. It's a day where I get Ricky and spend the day doing the least romantic stuff we can think of before going to volunteer at the Shrimp Feed. Now your turn, who are you spending Valentine's Day with." "Well, I mean... uh..." Lucy replied, blushing furiously. I turned to look at Stasi, holding her close to me. I didn't need to hear Lucy's answer. Over the past few weeks, I've been badgered by questions about Lucy from a certain defenseman on the Belcourt High School Hockey Team. "So, Valentine's Day, huh?" "Don't even start with that." Stasi replied. "You know how much I hate this holiday." "Liar," I teased. "All those sticky notes you left me on Valentine's Day growing up say otherwise." Stasi flicked me on the forehead and stuck out her tongue at me. "How's hockey?" She asked, changing the subject. "Oh, you know. It's been the same. We're going to start toning back, starting tonight. Coach Butler thinks that it'd do more harm than good to go nuts at practice. I feel like my knee's fully healed, though, so that's good. But then again, Zach got his house vandalized by DTOSA Supporters, so that's pretty bad." "I heard about that. Is he still going to play?" Stasi asked softly. "I'm not sure," I admitted. "We had a talk with him, Coach Butler and I, and his parents seriously don't want him to play this Friday even though he wants to." While some may call it simple vandalism, others would call it an act of terror. Zachary Brady, the second line lizardman winger who consistently came through for the team when we needed him, was sent a threatening message. His home was at the end of a cul-de-sac and had a large tree on the front yard. Someone took the time to hang a dummy on one of the branches. While the X's on the eyes and the rope around the dummy's neck might not have been super frightening, the number eighty-three, Zack's number, spray-painted in blood red on the dummy's chest was. I decided a change of the subject was needed. "Is Josie going to be at the game?" I asked. "Possibly. She video chatted me yesterday and said she was going to her best to make it, but no promises. Did you know what my papa told me? He said that Governor Lawson was going to be at the game." Stasi said, sourly. "Governor Lawson? Really?" I scowled. "Really." She confirmed. "For once, he's going to show up." Belcourt games attracted a lot of people, and not just people from the school. A lot of Pro-Monster politicians and Anti-DTOSA supporters wound up at our games, screaming alongside the students and teachers. Governor Brian Lawson was not one of them. He was one of the staunchest supporters of the DTOSA, calling for more stringent rules to be placed on nonhumans in California, especially after what happened in regards to the civil disturbances that ignited over the entire state. It was no wonder he was going to show up at the State Championship. After all, he was the one that was going to have to hand over the trophy to the winning team. "That's good to hear. I hope we win just for the chance to get him to hand over the trophy to us. He's a despicable guy. Did you hear what he said at his latest rally about our people?" "You're going to win, lyubov... but..." She looked at me curiously. "Our people?" "What?" "You said our people." "Yeah, our people." "You're human." She pointed out. "No. I'm Christopherian." "Christopher what?" "Chris-... nevermind." She gave me a fragile smile, before kissing me on the cheek and leaning her head on my shoulder. "I think I understand, zaichik. Oh! I forgot to tell you something." "What?" "You know how you were occupied with fetching papers from the printer during first period?" Stasi asked. "Yeah." I said. The school printer could only be accessed with a code. Each member of the faculty was provided with a single code. The code was used to see who used the printer for what. Since ink and paper were not cheap materials, each code was allocated a certain amount of 'free' copies before there would be some deductions to their paychecks. As an office assistant, I had my own code assigned to me and since I wasn't paid by the school, I could go as nuts on the printer as I wanted. It wasn't unheard of for some cheap teacher who couldn't cough up a few cents to ask me to run to the copy room to go make some copies for them. "I talked to Juliet." "Really?" I asked. Juliet Reagan was a junior in our AP Stats class, a tall vulpine. I didn't know what caused it, but Juliet and Stasi had some bad blood between them. The way Stasi constantly stuffed away her emotions while in public by herself, becoming brusque, aloof, and having a frosty demeanor drove some people to automatically dislike her. Like Juliet. Juliet didn't like Stasi because she thought she was rude and insulting and Stasi didn't like Juliet because she thought she was ill-mannered. "Yeah, we talked." Stasi replied. "She's actually a pretty nice person. She almost seemed surprised that I seeked her out to talk to her. I think we might actually become friends one day." "I'm proud of you, you know." I said, kissing her on the forehead. I didn't fault her for how she acted in public. I'd probably have acted that way if I was labeled as 'deadly', 'dangerous to the public', and deserving of being put in a prison (according to Governor Lawson). But sometimes, I just wanted everyone to see how I saw my vampire best friend under all that ice. The kindest, most loving, and most caring person in the whole universe. "Thanks, lyubov." Stasi replied. Chapter 5: Love was in the air at Belcourt High School the next day. As a matter of fact, it was everywhere. The school had been decorated with pink posters, courtesy of the BHS Cheerleading Team and Leadership class. Everyone seemed to be eager for Valentine's Day and the State Championship on Friday. As a result, everyone's concentration became more and more non-existent as they all basked in the short reprieve. The short reprieve from school and the short reprieve from living under the constant terror of being persecuted any day now. You would've thought that the riots would've enacted change, but all they did was make things worse. With police consistently cracking down on Monster Rights Advocacy Groups, the possibility of being harmed, or killed, for being what you were was suddenly becoming frighteningly real. You wouldn't have known it today, though. Throughout the day, I watched as boys in the hallways mustered up the courage to ask girls out to be their Valentine's, sometimes in extravagant displays of affection. I thought back to my own cringe-worthy experiences with Stasi, where I asked her to be my Friend Valentine eleven years in a row, always stumbling over my words like a buffoon and always shoving a card into her hands. Even though she loved it then, I was glad that now that we were passionately in love, I wouldn't have to go through those experiences again. However, that didn't stop me from getting the drop on her with my own display of affection in AP Biology. It took me days to beg and cajole Mr. Carson into letting me do it, until he finally gave me a deal. If I was to loan him my printer code so he could print out 30 copies of a twenty page lab report, he'd let me have the first ten minutes of class to do whatever I wanted. I only needed five. I waited until the bell rang, signifying that class was started before I finally left the office, hustling across campus to Biology. Once I got to Mr. Carson's class, I peeked in the window. Stasi was sitting at our shared table at the back of the room, typing something on her phone before finishing her text and putting it away. Despite the way she was anxiously gnawing on her pen (actually, it was my pen that she was borrowing but it looks like it was hers now), I couldn't help but sigh happily when I saw her. She had gone early to school today to decorate my locker in a lavish display of affection, covering the entire interior of it in sticky notes, with every one containing a full-fledged lovenote of the things I did that she loved immensely. Half of them, I never even realized I did. It just went to show how much attention she paid to me, and I her. Right as she placed her phone back into her bag, the phone in my pocket buzzed. I fished it out, looking at the screen. It was a text from Stasi. Lyubov, where are you? Are you feeling sick? Class started. X I tapped out a quick reply, pressing send. I know. Give me a second. X "Why are you looking at your phone?" Elena asked, adjusting her camera. "Are we doing this or what? Are you chickening out? Don't chicken out!" Elena, who was becoming increasingly interested in photography, was getting an excuse from the office to miss the first few minutes of Fifth period to go photograph and document the event for the school yearbook. "I'm not chickening out." I said, smiling at her. "I just needed to start the song." With a guitar in my hands and a bouquet of roses tied to it, making a makeshift capo, I opened up my phone once more, pressing play on the song. The bluetooth speakers in my backpack burst into a loud song, albeit a bit muffled because the speaker was inside my backpack. I placed my phone back into my pocket, opened the door and walked in. "Cause you're a sky, 'cause you're a sky full of stars. I'm gonna give you my heart. 'Cause you're a sky, 'cause you're a sky full of stars. 'Cause you light up the path." I sang, playing the guitar along to the lyrics. I was an abysmal singer and an 'ok' guitar player. That was why I had the speaker system in my backpack, to cover up the majority of my flaws. Stasi looked as if she was sucking on a lemon, her face immediately turning beet red. She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment as the class cheered along with Mr. Carson. "I don't care, go on and tear me apart," I cried, wincing as my voice cracked. Hopefully, Chris Martin was able to pick up the slack for Chris Williams. "I don't care if you do, ooh-ooooh. 'Cause in a sky, 'cause in a sky full of stars. I think I saw yooooooooou." But soon though, I started to really get into the song. I went to one knee beside Stasi, singing to her (very badly) as if I didn't have a care in the world. Eventually, she pried her hands away from her face, looking at me with a mixture of embarrassment, love, and happiness. I knew she loved the song. Coldplay was one of her favorite bands and she loved the song. She always told me it made her want to dance, but I could see why she didn't want to do that now. Even though I saw Jazz recording on her phone in my peripheral vision, I didn't care. The way I saw it, the only important thing in the room right now was right in front of me. I'd do anything for this girl. Even if it meant embarrassing the hell out of her in her favorite class to show her I loved her. When I finally finished the song, I set the guitar down, pulling off the bouquet of roses attached to the guitar and handing it to her. Stasi elegantly took them into her cold hands, smelling them. "Happy Valentine's Day, Stasi." I said. "Happy Valentine's Day, Chris." She replied, bringing her cold hands to my cheek. "You're such a dork." "I'm your dork." "Yes you are." She agreed happily, giving me a radiant fang filled grin. "Want your dork to sing another song?" I teased. "I have like six more minutes before we have to start doing actual learning." "No!" Stasi exclaimed in her accent. "Don't you dare." "No, really. I have like a million songs on my phone. What singer do you want? I have Coldplay, John Legend, Adele..." "Chris, no." Stasi said sharply, baring her fangs and cupping my cheeks, making me look straight into her eyes. She was trying to look serious, but it was seriously belayed by the smile on her face. "Nyet, non, nee, não, nein-.." "How do you know how to say no in so many different languages?" "-.. Nahi, voch, lo," Stasi continued, scrunching up her nose a in thought. "How do you say no in Vietnamese again?" "Oh come on!" Elena cried. "Who cares. Just kiss him already!" Stasi blinked before her cheeks flushed and she pulled me closer, her lips only a few inches from mine. "Stasi?" I asked. "Yes, lyubov?" "It's không, by the way." I replied. Stasi broke into laughter and pulled me the rest of the way, sealing my lips in a chaste kiss and pulling me in for a tight hug as the class burst into applause. ****** By the time the day ended, I knew I put every guy in the school to shame when it came to embarrassing their girlfriends. I was already pretty well-known on campus (I had no clue why), but Jazz, being social media savvy, spread a video of what I did in Mr. Carson's class and it circulated around school faster than wildfire and by the time school was done for the day, I was now known as the Human Guitar Guy Who Sang Coldplay To His Vampire Girlfriend In Fifth Period. I was waiting to get a call and be signed by the lead guitarist of Coldplay any day now. Coldplay was a band that I always liked and not because of their equality views too. Their music was catchy. "I still can't believe you did that." Stasi said over the phone. "Yeah well, you deserve it." "I deserved to get embarrassed by your awful singing?" She giggled. "Hey!" I said, defensively. "I wasn't that bad." "Uh-huh." Stasi said. "Stasi..." I said warningly, placing my phone in between my ear and shoulder as I perused through my closet for my black tie. Staff was supposed to wear slacks, white shirts, and ties for the Seafood buffet. "Ok, ok! Fine! It was amazing," She gushed. "When did you get so good at guitar?" "I wasn't that good." I replied shyly. "You totally were." She effused. "Even if you only played four chords." "Well, I mean, I... hang on a second. My parents are in the room." I said, as my parents came into my room. I took the phone off of my ear, placing it on speaker and setting it down on the nightstand. "Stasi, you're on speaker." I said. "Hello Robert! Hello Susan!" Stasi chirped. "Hello, Annie." My mom replied, brightly. My mom was always happy to speak to Stasi. She said there was too much testosterone in the house and Stasi's presence as a daughter was an equalizer. "Hey mom. Hey dad." I greeted. "Why are you two all dressed up?" "We're off to the Sokolovs to get ready for our Valentine's Double Date." My mom said. She was wearing a red dress with a scarf and my dad was in a suit. They really did look like they were ready for a night out. "Neat. Where are you four going?" I asked. "Belcourt High School." "What?" I asked, confused. "Why are you going to Belcourt High School?" "We're going to the Athletic Seafood Feed, silly." My mom chided. "When we heard that the Giovanni from Scaletta's and the one chef from that seafood restaurant we love were going to volunteer their services for the school, we knew we just had to attend. It'd be way better than going to any other restaurant in the city, I'll tell you that." "How come you didn't tell me?" I asked, irked. I wasn't mad that they were showing up. I was actually quite pleased that they were showing support for my school. I was just irritated that I was the last to find out about these things. "We did tell you. You were playing video games with Annie. I said we were planning to go to the seafood feed and you nodded and went uh-huh, uh-huh, yeah mom, uh-huh." She looked at my dad sharply. "Obviously, he gets that from someone." "Sorry, Susan." Stasi apologized. "You have nothing to apologize for, Annie." My mom said firmly. "It's not your fault that my son has a one-track mind that he so obviously inherited from his dad." "Hey!" My dad said, defensively. "So you two are going to Annie's house?" I asked over the sound of Stasi's giggling. "Yes, will Annie be coming over?" My mom asked. "Yes. All staff need white button ups and Stasi left her only pair in my closet." I said. My mom gave me a mischievous look and I immediately turned red. "She's just coming to pick up her clothes and we're going to hang out, mom." "I didn't ask you what you were going to do, why are you getting so defensive?" My mom teased. "Come on, honey." My dad said, tugging on my mom's arm. "Let's go leave our dear son alone before Annie arrives. I think we're embarrassing him." "You're right, darling. Bye sweetie," My mom said, blowing me a quick kiss. "You two be good!" "We will." Stasi and I both said. ****** "It's kind of a bit of bad luck that we're spending our first Valentine's Day as a couple working, isn't it?" Stasi asked, looking into the mirror and putting her raven hair into an austere ponytail. "Not really." I admitted. "How can I say it's bad luck when you're with me?" "You're right." Stasi conceded, applying a tiny bit of lip gloss to her moist and delicate lips. A minimal amount of makeup was applied to her face and although it certainly accentuated her beauty, she didn't need it. She never did. "Chris?" She asked, interrupting my reverie. "Hm?" "You're staring." She pointed out, giving me a shy fang-filled smile. "Wha-... oh, sorry." I apologized. "Don't apologize." Stasi said, quickly. "I like it when you stare. A lot, as a matter of fact." "I'm glad you like it so much." I replied. I looked in the mirror, running my hand through my brown hair. It was getting a bit unkempt and I had mixed feelings about it. It wasn't as unruly as Ricky's locks, but it wasn't the normal disciplined 'high and tight' that I sported for all of high school. "What should I do about my hair?" "You could style it," Stasi suggested. "Using that hair product I got you." "You got me hair product?" I asked, confused. I scanned my bathroom counter. "Where?" She pointed at a black container that I had seen countless times but never opened. "There." "That's hair product?" "Yes, that's hair product." Stasi confirmed. "Here, kneel. I'll style your hair for you." Not one to disobey my best friend, I went to my knees, kneeling on the tile floor. I was just tall enough to be able to to clearly see what Stasi was doing. Humming softly, Stasi unscrewed the cap off the container, dipping her fingers inside and scraping off a dollop of what looked like generic play-doh. "That's hair product?" I asked again. "Yes. It's molding clay. Now shush lyubov, I'm trying to work." Stasi replied, pulling me so my upper back was flush against hers. My breath hitched at the intimate contact, but I relished it nonetheless. Stasi worked the molding clay into her fingers and then she began rubbing it into my scalp, mussing up my hair. "Is my hair supposed to point in different directions?" I asked. "Shush, lyubov." Stasi scolded playfully. "I'm not done yet." Still humming, she continued to run her hands through my hair, fiddling around and experimenting. It took me a while to realize that she was singing Coldplay. Finally, after a few more minutes and several different hairstyles, she announced that she was finished, washing her hands and smiling at me with satisfaction. "There, doesn't that look better, lyubov?" I looked at my reflection. "It's interesting." Stasi arched a delicate eyebrow. "Interesting?" "It looks great. Thanks, Stasi." Stasi gave me a wide smile, placing her cold hands on my shoulders and softly rubbing on the taut skin. "No problem, zaichik. Glad to know that you think it looks great." She tutted, focusing her eyes on my shoulders. "Wow, you're really wound up and tense. What have you been doing at hockey practice, Chris?" I meant to say something witty or sarcastic like "practicing hockey", but the way Stasi's touch felt on my skin was divine. Rather than saying something smart, the word that came out of my mouth resembled a slurry of half-assed explanations. She continued to massage my shoulders, nearly making me moan in ecstasy. "Don't hurt your brain, zaichik." She giggled in her soft accent. "You know, we're not going to work at the feed for another hour or two. Why don't we hop on the bed, then I can pamper you and drain away all that tension so you don't accidently get clumsy like me and spill food over someone. Deal?" "Deal." I whispered. Stasi made a noise of delight, helping me to my feet. She guided me into the bedroom and sat me on the edge of my bed. The mattress squeaked as she climbed up on the bed, moving around me so she was pressing her cold body against my back. I began to feel my groin slowly stirring when I realized that Stasi's breasts were pressing into my back. "Shirt." Stasi said, her breathing slightly heavy. "Huh?" I asked. "You should take your shirt off." Stasi said. "Oh, right." I replied, pulling off my white undershirt. Stasi plucked it from my grasp, folded it neatly, and set it down to the side. She began to deftly massage at my neck and shoulders. It felt good. Really good. Within moments, it felt as if my shoulders were being released of a burden that I didn't know I was carrying. "How does that feel?" Stasi asked softly. "Great," I hissed. "Did I hurt you?" She asked worriedly. "No, I think I just have a knot right there." "Here?" Stasi asked, pressing down on the spot. "Yes, there." I groaned. Stasi began working out the knot deftly with her fingers. It felt wonderful. Her undivided attention and the way she was solely focused on making me feel good had left me feeling warm and fuzzy. I was turning into putty in her arms. I sank back into her, basking in the feeling of her skin on mine. Deciding that my shoulders and back had enough attention, she brought her hands forward and began to caress my face. Her fingers kneaded the muscles of my jaw, gently steering my head from side to side to work my tense neck muscles. My eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head in pleasure as she began to massage the back of my neck. It was just the way her cold hands felt on my skin that enhanced the massage to unbelievable levels. "Are you relaxed yet?" Stasi asked, wrapping her arm around my torso. "Yes, thank you. That felt so amazing." I replied. I made to stand up, but Stasi tightened her grip on me, resting her chin on my shoulder. "I'm not done." "What?" "I said, I'm not done." She said, giving me a soft kiss on the neck, her fangs nipping at my jugular vein and making my breath hitch. "You're not?" I hissed. "I'm not." She confirmed. I could only watch as Stasi unwrapped herself regretfully around me, making me lay back down on my bed so I was comfortable. Moving slowly and sensually, she climbed off the bed and kneeled on the floor, pushing my legs apart and fitting herself into the space between them. She stared up at me with her beautiful crystal blue eyes, smiling widely as she began to unbuckle my belt. "Stasi?" I questioned. "Remember what I said on Friday?" She asked. "Not really, no." I admitted. All I remember was the mind blowing sex in the changing room, but everything after that was a complete blur. I knew that Stasi brought me home and tucked me into bed with her, lulling me into a dreamless sleep with a Russian lullaby. Everything else was a complete haze. "Well, since you don't remember, I'll give you the SparkNotes version. Are you ready? Ok, here we go. Since we don't have a lot of time before we have to go back to school and because you spoil me all the time, with your blood, your love, your affection, and your terrible singing ability, I feel like it's right that I spoil you in return." Stasi replied, moving a few tendrils of wispy raven hair out of her eyes. "Stasi," I said softly, reaching down to caress her cheek. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to or if you feel like you're obligated." Her eyes widened. "Oh. Nyet. Nyet, no, no, no, no, no. You take those words right out of your head right now, mister. I want to do this, more than anything." She focused her attention back to my belt, whooping in happiness when the belt finally came away. "More than anything." She pulled down my pants, moving on to my underwear. With slow, teasing movements, she pulled away my briefs until finally, my erection springing free. I could only watch as she reached out, grasping the shaft of my cock. Her hand was cool to the touch and it nearly made me jump five feet into the air. "Having fun?" She giggled, studying me. "Very much so." I breathed. "Good. Now let's get you unwound." She replied, giving me a dazzling fangy grin. She stroked her hand up and down my shaft several times, making me sigh softly. She looked up, gazing at me bashfully with those beautiful crystal blue eyes. "Chris?" My best friend asked. "Yes?" "Ya lyublyu tebya." I meant to reply that I loved her back, so much that it hurt, but before I could say anything, she parted her lips and engulfed the head of my cock, taking me into her mouth. I threw my head back on the bed, moaning loudly. It should've been a crime to feel this good. Her tongue swirled around the tip, her fangs lightly scraping against the skin, and her hand continued to stroke up and down my cock. I was in heaven. I sighed, watching her as her head bobbed up and down on my lap, all her attentions focused on taking more of me into her mouth every time. The way the interior of her mouth felt was exquisite. I had a complete death grip on my sheets and I felt like I was going to tear the fabric until I felt a numbness begin to spread across the back of my hands. It only took seconds to realize that the numbness was just Stasi placing her cold hands on top of mine, holding onto them. Slowly, I released the sheets, simply clutching onto her fingers. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I whispered. With a pop, Stasi released me from her mouth, but her cold and long fingers were still wrapped around my shaft. "Mhm." She purred in her delicious accent. "I love this. I love you. I love making you feel good and this is fun. Ochen' veselo na samom dele." "Vy udivitel'no, vy znayete, chto?" I asked. "I try." She smirked lazily. She continued her oral onslaught, forcing her head back down on my cock and drawing a gasp from me. Her throat quivered and gripped me like a vice as she fought to stay relaxed. Her blue eyes met mine as I gently wove my fingers through her raven hair, panting her name. I trained my eyes on the ceiling. I was on cloud nine, delirious with pleasure. The only thing breaking the trance was the sound of Stasi's lewd slurping as she continued to bob her head up and down. Soon though, I realized that the end was fast approaching. The sensations that she was giving me was just too much. When she took me once more deep into her throat and her crystal blue eyes met mine seductively, I knew that I was going to explode. "Stasi, I'm going to cum." I warned. "Mhm." She moaned, making a noise of delight. Her eyes widened in happiness and I couldn't believe how much she loved pleasuring me. She redoubled her efforts, sucking harder on the head of my cock, her hand stroking my shaft so fast, it was a blur. It was too much to bear. My eyes rolled up and I grunted involuntarily as a monstrous orgasm crashed through my body. I jerked my hips forward as my cock exploded into her waiting mouth. I laid there in orgasmic bliss as Stasi swallowed me down. I keep spurting into her and it felt like I was emptying my entire escence down her gulping throat. Finally, my orgasm subsided and I laid on the bed, gasping for air. Stasi gave my cock one last suck and cleaned it off before she pulled away, kissing the head softly. By the time she was done, there was a huge smile on both of our faces. "Delicious." She said brightly. "Thank you, Chris." "Holy shit." I mumbled. "How did that feel, lyubov?" Stasi smirked, resting her chin on my thigh. "Are you still wound up?" "You know damn well that I'm not wound up anymore." I complained. "I want to hear you say how it was." She replied. "I need the boost to my ego." "It was amazing. The most mindblowing thing I ever got." I said, sincerely. "This is the best Valentine's Day ever." Her face split in a goofy smile that made my heart melt. The smile that Stasi gave me was unique only on this day of the year and it made me feel like I was twelve again. It was the same goofy smile that Stasi always gave me when I blushingly stuttered out words, trying to get her to accept my 'Best Friend Valentine's Day' card back when were growing up. It's scary knowing how quickly time flies. The fact that it felt like I was running around on the playground with a ten year old Stasi just yesterday made me want to curl up into a ball and beg for time to just slow down and let me enjoy everything. The mattress squeaked again as Stasi climbed onto the bed, laying next to me, and placing her head on my chest, her arms wrapped all around me. She clung onto me and I held onto her, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. Except for the fact that when Stasi and I were together, there was nothing for me to fear. Because I had everything I ever wanted. Right here. Chapter 6: We laid in bed together, indulging in post-coital caresses until the clock finally reached five. Regretfully, we tore ourselves away from my bed, making the drive to the school. Even though the ride to Belcourt was relatively uneventful, save for the odd getting stopped at a checkpoint routine, what we found at our destination was particularly alarming. "Eto.... eto ochen' mnogo lyudey." Stasi observed, driving her Mercedes into the school parking lot. "It is. It is a lot of people." I replied. A large group of Pro-DTOSA Protesters were setting up shop right outside our school. They weren't on the property, per se. Rather, they were posted directly outside of it. They were all bundled up for the cold too, so you know these were the fanatical ones. I felt like I was punched in the gut when I saw a poster of of an arachnid being trampled under a boot, the caption reading 'END THE MONSTER MENACE.' Couldn't we all just accept each other? "My god." I mumbled. It didn't take a whole lot of creativity on my part to imagine that arachne being Lucy. "Hey," Stasi comforted, reaching over the center console and taking hold of my hand. "Don't worry. The police are going to keep them out. Let's just focus on working." "Alright." I replied. Stasi gave my hand a squeeze, before putting both of her hands back on the steering wheel. She was always paranoid about driving one-handed. With expert precision, Stasi parked her car in the designated spot for workers. We both exited the car, shivering in the cold air of San Francisco. With our arms locked together, we walked to the multi-use room, our breath curling in front of our faces. We were greeted by Ms. Euthixie once we got to the front door. She was bundled up from head to toe, her royal blue jacket zipped up to her green nose. "Hey, kiddos. Happy Valentine's Day. Glad to see that you two made it." "Wouldn't have missed it for the world." I replied. "Good to hear." Ms. Euthixie shivered, burying her gloved hands inside her jacket. "Cold, isn't it?" "A bit," I admitted. "But hey, this is how our city is." "Indeed." Ms. Euthixie sniffed. "How are you, Annie?" "Cold." Stasi said. "You two can head inside if you want. I'm just waiting for a few more volunteers. They might need help in the kitchen, though." Ms. Euthixie said. "There's hot chocolate and coffee if you want some." "You got it." I said. "Come on, Stasi." "Oh wait, you two," Ms. Euthixie said, stopping us just as we were about to head inside. "May I talk to you both for a second? In private." "Sure," I replied, turning around. "What's up?" "Six." Ms. Euthixie announced. "Pardon me?" "Six. Six as in six police officers. That's all the local precinct was willing to send to help us. Well, six plus our M-SRO." "That's... that's not a lot." Stasi observed. Tell me about it. The police were here to keep them out and although I trusted them, they didn't look like they were up for the job. They looked as if they wanted to be anywhere except here and I wouldn't have counted on them to completely secure the event. "Tell me about it." Ms. Euthixie muttered. "I just wanted your opinion. You both saw the amount of protestors that are gathering outside the school. Do you think we should call off the event?" I always appreciated the school administration for the very reason that they always took the opinions of their students into account before they did anything major, even if they didn't ask the whole student body. As president, I liked to think that I represented everyone, no matter what gender, species, or race. Everyone was taken into account. I thought for a minute on what Ms. Euthixie asked. It'd certainly be the safer option but it wouldn't be the best option. No, if we cancelled, we'd be showing everyone that we can get pushed over by a few people with posters. But if things hit the fan and the people I loved got hurt... I'd never forgive myself. At a loss for words, I looked at Stasi, studying her face. We were a perfect team, cultivated from years of experience and growing up together. As a result, we had this unique gift. It was called telepathy. No, it wasn't actual telepathy (although I wish it was). We just had the uncanny ability to have conversations simply by looking at each other. Although, I didn't need to look at Stasi's face to know what she was thinking right now, even though I did. Stasi: Rise Up? Me: Rise Up. "Let's keep the event going for now," I decided. "I trust San Francisco's finest to keep everybody out. Besides, I don't think anyone is stupid enough to get caught trespassing on government property." "Hear, hear." Stasi quipped in her adorable accent. "Everything's already set up. We might as well as go through with it. Besides, how else are we going to pay for Chris's expensive habit of throwing pucks into the crowds at kids?" "Hey!" I argued. "The kids love it." "I know they do." Stasi replied, wrapping her arm around me. "I love it too, but pucks aren't cheap." "Why didn't I expect a different answer?" Ms. Euthixie asked, her eyes sparkling. Between our parents, Ms. Euthixie was one of the staunchest supporters of our public opinion defying relationship. "Alright then, that's all I needed to hear. You two go ahead and get inside. Remember, if you see anything suspicious, report it. Don't go chasing after it." "We won't." We both chirped. ****** The thing about volunteering was, sometimes, it was absolute chaos. But sometimes, you got one event that was organized chaos. There was a difference between the two. Giovanni Scaletta and the other chef, whose name I found to be Owen Bates, ran the kitchen like a leaking ship. Chef "Please, call me Owen!" Bates, was an scylla, a multi-tasking machine with the bottom half of an octopus. He specialized in all kinds of seafood (duh). While the kitchen was organized chaos, you wouldn't have known it if you were eating out in the multi-use room. Ms. Euthixie really did go all out with the decorations. Rather than looking like the main hangout spot of Belcourt High School, the multi-use room resembled a banquet hall ripped from a high class hotel. It was absolutely and completely decked out, with the majority of the light being provided by candles at the centerpiece of every table. Decorations in the colors of Belcourt High School were proudly displayed and at the center of the room, a dance area had been cleared. Numerous tables were scattered around the edges of the room, while long refreshment tables lay against each of the walls. Every cloth-covered table had a centerpiece with various decorations, such as a few wine bottles and a pamphlet thanking the guests for attending, as well as small biographies of the athletes and other notable students that were going to be waiting on their section for the night. "And here we are," I announced, placing the tray of food down at the center of the table. "Scallop tartare with lettuce. Enjoy!" "Thank you," An elderly goblin hissed, pushing his glasses further up his nose with a claw. "About time the food showed up." "Oh dear, please be kind," His equally as old wife chastised. She looked at me apologetically. "Sorry, my husband gets a bit angsty around many people on an intimate holiday like Valentine's. You're doing a marvelous job." "It's no problem at all." I said cheerfully. I looked over my shoulder, seeing the familiar long raven hair of the love of my life. "My girlfriend has the same exact problem." I teased playfully. "Heard that." Stasi shot back, placing the tray of food down at the center of the next table. Both tables laughed loudly, attracting looks and smiles from surrounding diners. Hell, even the rude goblin cracked a smile. Stasi and I were doing that all night, light banter that showed how much we adored each other with high-spirited playfulness. Even if Stasi didn't say much other than what was needed to the guests, I don't think anyone else would've made a better partner for me. We were there for each other and had each other's backs, making the perfect team. I kept conversation going between our two tables when Stasi clammed up and when I ran out of generic stuff to say, she came to the rescue, steering stuff to familiar territory, like sports and... sports and... sports. She also made sure that I didn't trip over my two feet and pour a platter of seafood over some poor diner. "You two are so cute together." The wife squealed. "But, I do have a question for you, Christopher. You've been at this school for nearly half a year now. I firmly believe you have the knowledge to make this decision. Who's better? Humans or us?" Conversation at the surrounding tables ended and almost thirty sets of eyes were on me. Even Stasi's crystal blue eyes were on me. I didn't need to turn around to know. I could practically feel her eyes boring into the back of my head. "Uh..." I began. "Who's better?" "Mhm," The wife nodded her head. "Nobody's better." I said cordially. "We're all equal. We all live in the same place, breath the same air, and eat the same food." "It's heartwarming that there are humans out there that share your view. A lot of them, in fact. But it's heartbreaking to know that a lot do not." The wife's eyes glimmered, revealing a certain wiseness behind them that I had never seen this entire night. "You speak like a true leader of our people." "I'm not a leader." I replied. "I'm just a dude that switched schools to be with his girlfriend." "Buttering me up isn't going to make me go easier on you," Stasi laughed. Her laugh was amazing. It had the potential to make everyone's day, especially mine, brighter. And that's what it did, generating a buzz of merriment all around us. "Not even a little bit?" I asked. "Not even a little bit." She teased, grabbing ahold of my arm. "Come on lyubov, we still have a few more main courses to deliver." After we said our goodbyes and made sure everything was good, we departed, heading back to the kitchen. I looked around at all the other tables. Stasi and I were just responsible for our little section in the corner, while the other athletes (Yes, Lucy and Jazz were considered athletes even though they were in Speech and Debate) were spread out among the other tables. To name a few, Viktor was doing his best to cope with the dietary restrictions of a tree elf, while Elena was entertaining an entire section with her energetic preppiness and stories of being the greatest prankster in Belcourt High School history. So far, the entire feed was a rousing success. I even saw my parents. They were sitting next to the Sokolovs, holding court at a table at the center of the room. My parents and I were the only humans in the room and everyone had an intense fascination in us. I even got a very loud round of applause when they announced my name out of the many names of the student staff members working at the event, and I'm sure it didn't have to do with my athletics but moreso my species. But, while I was relaxed and cheerful the entire night, my parents were not... at least, at first. This was the first time they were around so many different species of nonhumans and although they were reserved and slightly intimidated at the beginning of the dinner, they were now treating everyone as if they knew them their whole lives. I think it had something to do with the fact that Anton snuck in a flask full of vodka, but I wasn't sure. "That was a very nice thing you said, you know." Stasi commented as we trudged towards the kitchen. "About the switching schools part?" "Nyet, although that was very trogatel'nyy that you said you switched schools because of me," Stasi said, pecking me on the cheek. "I was talking about the everyone being equal part." "Well, I mean... we're never going to be truly equal. Everyone's going to be different in some way, but that's what's amazing, right? Think of it like our group projects that we always do. We all bring something to the table and take away something. Like you! You have your adorable paralysis by analysis problem-.." "And you have your cute tendency to rush into things without thinking," Stasi quipped, pinching me on the cheek. "No matter how difficult things may be." "Yes. I do have that problem." I laughed. "But, everyone's strength makes up for each other's flaws. What would I do without having my best friend restrain me and make me think every now and then?" "And what would I do without having my best friend make sure that I actually do something instead of spending vsyu zhizn' thinking up a million ways to solve a problem?" Stasi asked, leaning into me. "I love you, Christopher Williams." "I know. I love you too, Anastasia Sokolov." ****** The staff break room next to the kitchen was the designated hangout spot for everyone working at the feed. It wasn't huge and spacious. It was a cozy room designed to fit thirty people at most at the tables. It hardly mattered though. With everyone shuttling in and out of the kitchen delivering food, there were enough seats for everyone that was working hard to get some down time. And no one seemed to be working harder than Ricky. The giant wasn't allowed to work as a waiter, much to his dismay. He was relegated to working in the kitchen alongside the chefs and a few student assistants, using his strength to heft huge pots full of steaming food along the industrial sized stoves. "I'm going to be so sore tomorrow." He moaned, gingerly touching his bicep. "Oh, you poor, big guy." Jazz replied sympathetically. She was sitting on her tail again, the snakeskin curled around her and making a makeshift seat. "Here," She said. "I'll give you a good old lamia rub." The end of her uncurled from the pile and snaked up Ricky's chair, softly coiling itself around Ricky's arm and squeezing. "How's that?" She asked, her cheeks tinted pink. "A bit too tight." Ricky admitted, turning his face so Jazz wouldn't see his burning face. "Can't feel the tips of my fingers." "Sorry." Jazz apologized, loosening the pressure around his arm. "That better?" "Yeah that... that actually feels kind of nice. Gracias, amigo." Ricky said, settling into the massage. I turned to Stasi. "Why do I have a feeling we're third-wheeling?" "Not sure, but I have the feeling that we're third wheeling, too." She remarked, her crystal blue eyes sparkling. "You're not third wheeling!" Jazz said loudly, her cheeks as red as a tomato. Her tail was still coiled around Ricky's arm and the end was even beginning to stroke his chin. "Yeah, you're not." Ricky insisted, although he did look dejected at her words. "No, I feel like we are." Stasi teased. She turned to me, brushing a few tendrils of raven hair out of her face. "Why don't we stop our third wheeling, do some work, and leave these two to do their two-wheeling?" "Two wheeling isn't even a word." I observed. "It is now." Stasi smirked, sticking her tongue out at me. I resisted the urge to lean forward and wipe the smirk off her face by sealing her lips in a searing kiss. Ricky turned to Jazz. "Why do I have a feeling we're third wheeling?" He asked. "I'm not sure, but I have the feeling we're third wheeling too. Perhaps we should..." Jazz began, her slit eyes shining with mirth. "Nope," I laughed. "You unoriginal bastards can't use our words against us. It just doesn't quite work. You two stay here and relax. Stasi and I will check with the chefs to see if they want us to do anything. I think they'll be cleaning off some of the tables soon for the dancing part of the feed. Coming, Stasi?" "Right behind you, zaichik." She replied. "Have fun you two." "Bye, Chris. Bye, Annie." "Adios, amigos." We interlocked our fingers, heading into the kitchen to check with the chefs. When we found that they already dispatched staff members to begin cleaning up over twenty minutes ago, we hurriedly walked to the multi purpose room, hoping that we could at least pull our weight. But, it wasn't to be. "Damn." I muttered. "Yes, damn indeed." Stasi agreed. The tables were immaculate, platters, plates, and cutlery collected to be washed and stored away for next year's banquet. All that awaited now was the dance and judging from the way the band was setting up, it looked as if that was going to come very soon. The lighting was no longer provided by candles alone, but rather, from the large mirror ball that shrouded the room in an swirl of color. All of a sudden, every single light in the multi purpose room switched off, eliciting a gasp from everyone in the room. I grasped Stasi's cold hand tightly, immediately going on edge. My thoughts and suspicions immediately went to the power, believing that maybe a fuse box exploded or maybe... No, bad thoughts. Everyone's fine. Everyone's fine. No one's hu-.. "Belcourt High School, let's get this show on the road!" A voice boomed, before the mirror ball exploded into a whirlwind of light. To raucous applause, the band launched into an up-tempo song that was as catchy as a wide receiver. "Were you worried?" Stasi asked. "A bit." I confessed. "When the lights went out, I thought you were kidnapped because your hair was the same color as the darkness." She bared her fangs at me threateningly. We continued to stand at the side of the room, watching as the adults strode out onto the floor and began to dance the night away. Even though the dance floor was lively and everyone seemed to be into the music, it was kind of cringey watching my parents get down on the dance floor. "I have one question, lyubova." I asked Stasi. "Hm?" Stasi looked at me. "Why are we over here when we can be over there?" I asked, pointing over at the dance floor. "Because we're supposed to be working, durak." She giggled, pecking me on the cheek. "But I know how much you love music. Come on, let's go see if the kitchen needs anything of us. If we're free for the night, we can go boogie." "Just like at the Coven Ball." I observed. "Just like the Coven Ball." Stasi repeated, caressing me on the cheek. "I'll never forget that night." "Neither will I." She agreed. "Ya budu berech' yeye do togo dnya, kogda ya umru." We both walked to the kitchen, intent on getting checked off and being allowed to spend the rest of the night recreating one of the most memorable moments of our shared lives together with our family and friends. However, as our rotten luck would have it, we weren't going to be able to boogie away on the dance floor for a while. There were heaping bags of trash that needed to get tossed out and it looked like no one was going to take the job. Taking matters into my own hands, I insisted that Stasi not do anything and go spend time enjoying herself doing a less menial and nasty task, but all she did was roll her eyes, roll up her sleeves, and lift up two heavy bags of trash as if they weighed nothing. Together, we made trips out into the cold night air to throw the trash bags into the dumpster. Once we got there, I heaved the bags into the metal receptacle, wiping my hands on my slacks and wincing right afterwards. Bad move. "I hate taking out the trash." I mumbled. "But you do it all the time at my house when you come over and stay for dinner and every night at your house." Stasi pointed out. "Doesn't mean I have to like it." I argued. "Urgh, I think one of the bags leaked out onto my hands." "I was going to hold your hand on the way back, but you can keep them to yourself now." Stasi giggled, interlocking her arm with mine. "I guess I'll have to settle for this." "You sure you don't want to hold my hand?" I asked, sticking out my hand in her face. Stasi let go of my arm, jumping away from me with a yelp. Her face was contorted with playful indignation. "Chris, stop!" She squealed, staying an arm's reach away from me. "Seriously, stop." "Oh come on," I laughed. "Hold my hand." "No, I said stop! Oi, quit it!" She laughed, jogging away from me. "Stop, or you're sleeping on the couch for the rest of the week." "We all know you'd just join me." I teased. "I would, but if you really love me, you wouldn't want me on an uncomfortable couch." She shot back. Well, when she puts it like that. "Ok fine, I'll sto-..," I began. My voice trailed off when her expression froze in confusion. She blinked and turned her head, her crystal blue eyes squinting and roving all across the parking lot. "Is something wrong?" "Nyet," Stasi said after a few seconds. "I just thought I heard something." "What'd you hear?" I didn't hear anything, but Stasi's vampiric hearing was perfect. Actually, it was above perfect. She was able to hear things that even a human with perfect hearing would miss. I guess she had to make up for her abysmal eyesight somehow. I was the one that usually did the seeing for her. I was her eyes. She was my ears. "It sounded like..." Stasi scrunched her nose in thought as she tried to decipher what she heard. "Voices? I'm not sure." "Voices?" I turned and squinted all across the parking lot. There was nothing there. As a matter of fact, it appeared that most of the protestors, unwilling to stay now that the Sun was down and the moon was up, had gone home. The majority of the police followed suit, leaving behind only two officers that manned the warmed and heated checkpoint booth and police cruiser. "Want to check it out?" "I mean, we can..." Stasi began, her eyes clouded with indecision. Paralysis by analysis. "We'll check it out." I said, deciding for her. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Ladno." She muttered gratefully, before grabbing by hand with her cold one. She immediately winced when her fingers curled around mine. "Don't even say anything." She warned. "You didn't even see me open my mouth." I chuckled. "Yeah, but you were thinking it." She grumbled. She had me there because my best friend had me there. We walked into the parking lot, looking around the expensive cars for any signs of people. We didn't find anything at first, but Stasi swore that she heard something, so we kept looking around. It wasn't long before Stasi's eyes flashed and she warned me that she heard the voices again, two males, pointing in the direction she heard it. It was an isolated part of the lot, with little lights. The police checkpoint didn't have a good view of the area, either. Tentatively, we walked over to where Stasi heard the voice, until I began to hear them too. "An artist, aren't I?" Someone drawled gleefully. "Yep," His friend replied. "A proper picasso." There was a loud clatter, followed by a soft "Shit!". "You tit." The first voice moaned. "You went and spilled the whole can. That shit's expensive. Do you know how much they are at Home Depot?" "This is what we have the spare for." The second voice shot back. "Come on, help me spread this around." "OI!" I screamed. "Who's there?!" "Shit! Run!" The first voice screamed. Through the windows of cars, I saw two young teenage boys begin to peel off, running across the parking lot toward the fences. One was tall and lanky, while the other was short and pudgy, holding onto what looked like a paint can. It didn't take a genius to know what they were doing. They were vandalizing the opulent and expensive cars in the parking lot, writing derogatory messages in blood red paint on the doors, windshield, and hood. "Chris, wait!" Stasi cried. "Stasi, come on!" I yelled back, taking off in a hot pursuit. It'd take me a while to realize it, but I think that might've been a bad idea. I was always going off on my gut feelings and rash decisions, rather than thinking it through. I was endangering Stasi. "Wait, no!" I shouted. "I changed my mind, go get help!" "Konechno net." She spat back furiously, right on my heels. Even in the dim lighting of the parking lot, I could see that her fangs were elongated and her eyes were turning black. "I'm not going to let you do something stupid." We immediately took off in pursuit of the two kids across the parking lot. Although they had a decent head start, Stasi and I were much faster. Much like a cheetah chasing down it's prey, we began to close the distance. The tall and lanky teenager looked behind him, seeing that we were almost twenty yards away. "Fuck!" He screamed. "Jules, get rid of the can, you dumbass!" I didn't know what he meant until it was nearly too late. Jules, the fat kid, immediately slowed down and hurled something into the air with all his might. I stared, open mouthed, as I watched something sail into the air towards the both of us. It was the full can of paint. "Watch out!" Stasi screeched. Instinctively, I jumped in front of her, covering my face with my hands. Fortunately, the fat kid didn't possess the arm strength of a Belcourt starting quarterback and the can fell short, clattering and bouncing away harmlessly a few feet in front of us. Unfortunately, the can was open and the contents had a different idea. "Ew!" Stasi cried. "Chris, are you ok?" "Oh, christ! It's in my mouth." I spluttered, trying not to throw up from the taste of the droplets of paint that managed to work their way into my mouth. I remembered one time when I was around ten and accidently sprayed deodorant into my mouth. I'd take that a hundred times than one time of this! Stasi managed to get away with only a few drops of blood red paint on her pale skin and white shirt because I was shielding her. That meant I was practically bathed in it. I wasn't sure how I looked, but it must've been similar to how a main character ripped straight out of those gory slasher film that Stasi despised, covered in sticky, red blood. "Are you hurt? Did anything hit you?" Stasi asked hysterically, checking me for injuries. Her pale cold hands roved all across my wet face and body, caressing me and smearing blood... no, not blood. Paint. It was just paint. We weren't hurt. We were fine. "No, I'm... I'm..." I turned my head, looking at the two teenagers. They were trying to hop over the fence. The tall kid already made it over, but the fat kid that threw the can was struggling to make the climb. He was only about thirty yards away. If we ran and tried to get him, we'd be too late. Acting on sheer instinct, I stormed away from Stasi and over to the empty can of paint, picking it up and cocking my arm backwards. Remember what I said about how the fat kid didn't have the arm strength of a Belcourt starting quarterback? Well, neither did I. What I did have, however, was a good, accurate eye. That's what was valued more in a quarterback in my opinion. It was always better to throw a short ball and advance it for six yards, then throw it really hard and really far, but nowhere near my recievers. Accuracy is the remedy to a stingy defense, not arm strength. Accuracy was the most important trait for today's quarterback. Accuracy was what was going to get this fat kid that threw this can crashing to the dust. Set. Hut. Even though it was a cold, wintery night, there was not a gust of wind in sight. I threw the can as if I was hitting a receiver in stride. The lightened metal sailed through the air, tumbling and tumbling and tumbling until... BONK! Chapter 7: By the time Friday rolled around, the story got skewed so much that depending on who you asked, I was locked in a duel with a two hundred pound werebear and got mauled, or, I was doing some vicarious love making and experimenting at the Belcourt High School parking lot and things with Stasi's fangs went awry. It all went so fast that I don't even think I can say what happened. One thing that was certain though. The two teenage boys who were vandalizing vehicles in the parking lot were going to get punished. The entire ordeal was not quiet and the police officers at the checkpoint heard the loud racket that we were making. Shortly after I threw the empty can of paint that sent the fat kid crashing to the ground, the two police officers showed up. Imagine the looks on their faces when they saw me in what appeared to be an extremely bloodied white button up, with smears of paint all over my face. Now multiply that by ten. That's my parents and Stasi's parents faces when they were privately pulled out of the dance and saw Stasi, a fat kid, and I in handcuffs. Although we were questioned intensely by the police, Stasi and I were let go relatively quickly. I think we would've been forced to stay longer had my parents and I not been able to prove that I was human. Once the police officers recognized that fact that we were, they immediately relaxed and let us go home. I shudder to think how Stasi might've been treated had I not been there. The fat kid was charged with trespassing and vandalism. Although his accomplice got away, I wasn't certain that he was going to stay that way. The kid was bawling his eyes out as he was lead into the back of a police cruiser and it wasn't because he was hurting from the can of paint. I hoped they both got the book thrown at them. What did they expect vandalizing cars to do? Our country was split on racism. We needed to heal, to learn to work together, to learn that we were equal. They needed to know that nonhumans and humans can peacefully co-exist. Hell, look at Stasi and I. We were hopelessly in love with each other. What was spreading hate going to do other than cause people to get hurt? Absolutely nothing else, I'll tell you that. "And you," Coach Butler read, sitting on the stool. All of us were sitting around him, relaxing. "My father, there on the sad height, curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." He set the poem down on the floor, looking at all of us. We looked right back at him. We were at the SAP Center, an indoor hockey rink located in San Jose. We were there because the California State Hockey Championship had to be done on a neutral field. It seated about 17,000 and was home to the San Jose Sharks, a pro hockey team based in... you guessed it, San Jose. It was nice that we were going here. The California State Hockey Championship was always two different conferences facing off against each other. The Northern Conference, and the Southern Conference. As the Northern Conference, we were facing off against Liberty High School, a school from Los Angeles. The South was coming up to fight the North. Anyways, back to the poem. "Men," Coach Butler said, leaning forward. "I'm not asking you to answer anything for me, but I want all of you to think on something. I want you to think on the poem we just read while you all get set up." "Yes, Coach." We chorused. He smiled softly and nodded, standing up from his stool. The team broke off into small groups as they separated to get their gear ready. I already knew what the poem meant. Coach Butler had been taking a leaf out of Coach Freddy's book. The poem was a strong invocation to live boldly and to keep on fighting. Never to go gentle into the good night, but to fight against it. Live life to the fullest and to never surrender. To always Rise Up. It's been a long journey. Some might call it destiny, that all the days before this moment led up to this moment. It was never easy, the road often twisted and fraught with danger. It bent but with Stasi by my side, it never broke. The road was never about revenge. It was never about proving who was better. Sorry DTOSA, it was about making history. The kind that never, ever repeats itself. The kind that people years from now will read and say "I was there when it all happened." I looked around the locker room, watching everyone get set up. I realized that this was it. This was the last high school hockey game I was ever going to play. The last time I was going to skate or run out of the tunnel. The last time I was going to go out for a pre game meal with my team. The last time I was going to step on the ice. "You ok, Chris?" Viktor asked, looking at me curiously from his locker. "Yeah." I muttered, blinking the tear out of my eye. "I'm fine." "Alright then," Viktor replied, going back to sending last minute texts to Abby. I didn't have to look at his phone to know. Just the way he softly smiled that dopey fang-filled smile was enough of a sign to know who he was texting. My eyes flitted to the picture of Stasi that I taped to the back of my rented locker. It was Stasi, her face frozen in a delightful smile, her crystal blue eyes conveying delight and her long wavy raven hair in a braid. It's only been a few hours, but I missed her already. How could I not? She's been by my side for all my life. She's been on my team all my life. She's been my best friend all my life. She had helped me prepare for this, making me adhere to my strict diet and workout routine. She made sure I wasn't too stressed out or nervous. She made sure I studied, that I planned, that I led, that I inspired. She was my coach. She was my cheerleader. She was my rock, my best friend, and my love. She's been there for me all my life. And now, I think I needed her more than ever. "How did I ever get so lucky?" I whispered, tapping the picture. I swore the Stasi in the picture shrugged. ****** It wasn't long before we heard it. It was a whisper at first, a tiny ringing. Now it was a drone. The footsteps and voices of thousands of people all above us, taking their seats and milling about the arena. The crowd was attracted to the hype, the media calling it one of the most controversial games in all of American High School sports. A team of nonhumans engaged in a battle against a team of humans, locked in a duel for superiority over the other. When Coach Butler finally re-entered the locker room, we knew it was time to leave. I reapplied my velcro straps to my knee brace, stretching my leg and testing the waters. The knee brace was to... well... brace my knee and protect it after the injury I sustained last game. It was a light, breathable cloth that was wrapped around my knee with velcro straps. It had hinges on the side made of tough plastic. "Gentlemen," He said, looking around at each and every one of us. "Before we go out there, remember this. Great moments are born from great opportunity, and that's what you have here tonight, boys. Right in front of you, you have a golden opportunity to put your hand in a fist, and punch everyone in the mouth. Everyone that ever doubted us, everyone that ever spat on your race, you have the opportunity to show them we're not inferior. That they're not better. Let's have a great moment out there." "Yes, Coach." We chorused. "Play this game well today, because the chances of a lot of you seniors playing at the next level is slim. This game may very well be the last game of hockey you will ever play." He looked at all of us, nodding. "I'm immensely proud of every one of you. Now come on, let's go." Balancing on our skates, we left the locker room and followed Coach Butler, jittery from the long wait. As we neared the tunnel, we began to hear the din of the crowd. Loud music was blaring through the darkened stadium, music that nearly had my head throbbing. Through the darkness, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A gloved fist was suspended in the air. I turned my head, looking at the person the fist was attached to. "We're in this together now, Chris." He said. "We've been in this together since August, Vik." I replied, giving him a fist bump. Finally, we stopped our walk, waiting. Liberty High School was already on the ice and now, it was just us to skate out of the tunnel. Coach Butler turned around and looked at us. He made to say something, but I didn't hear it. The crowd was too loud. Was this what playing hockey professionally was like? "Ladies and gentlemen," The announcer roared. "Your Northern Conference Champions, the Belcourt High School Minotaurs!" When I heard the guitar riff start for Guns N' Roses, I sucked in a breath of air, energy coursing through my veins like liquid fire. I had prepared for this. No, not just me. Stasi and I had prepared for this. This was my last game, I was ready to have some fun. When Axel Rose began to scream, that was when I began to skate forward, snatching up my trusty stick from my rack. It was no longer in pristine condition. It was battered, weathered, scratched, and carried scars from rough games. I refused to get it replaced. It had sentimental value to me. It was a gift from my friends and family and I was never going to be rid of it. With that, I skated out onto the ice to the piercing screams of the royal blue crowd and to the chorus of boos from the gray Liberty High School crowd. "Let's go!" I screamed into the air, absolutely fired up. Even though the field was supposed to be 'neutral', I realized that it probably didn't seem that way. The SAP Center was one hour, two hours max from San Francisco. It was a six hour drive from Los Angeles. You wouldn't have known that from the amount of supporters Liberty High School had, though. Still, they were outnumbered by the wave of royal blue. Stories of nonhumans coming from all over the state to watch were all I heard for the past week. I skated around the ice, collecting a puck for my warm up skating, waving at some of the kids. I was actually looking for an excuse to rove around the stadium to look for Stasi. She was always sitting near or on the front row. After a few laps, I still hadn't found her and I was getting desperate. My heart was starting to ache, knowing she was so close, yet so far. Then, I saw her. I was whole again. She was sitting near the Belcourt High School bench. She was surrounded by the both of our families, Abby, Ricky, Lucy, and Jazz. My dad and Anton had royal blue face paint smeared all over their faces, while Yulia and my mom simply opted for headbands. Stasi was looking straight at me, waving. It must've been frustrating for her, trying to catch my attention, while my blind ass ran laps around the rink like a headless chicken. I skated over to them, scooping up the puck with the blade of my stick. It was a tradition that Stasi and I had shared ever since I started hockey. At the first and last game of the season, I'd give her a puck. Now that it was the last game of the season... and quite possibly my entire career (despite what the scouts said), it was time to make good of my tradition. When I came within four yards of the glass, I flicked the puck with the blade of my stick. The hardened rubber sailed through the air into the crowd before Stasi clapped her hands over it, catching it before it could hit anyone on the head. Now, there's a reason that Stasi doesn't have a huge pile of pucks laying around her room somewhere. She actually only had one. She always gave them away to the youngest kid she could find in the vicinity. The only time she didn't do that was the first time I ever gave her a puck in my first ever hockey game. She told me that the only other time she was going to keep the puck again was the last game of my high school career. She slipped the puck into her bag delicately. As the crowd around our family and friends cheered, I gazed at Stasi, a dopey grin on my face. She looked so gorgeous, wearing my jersey as well as having the exact same grin on her face. That same beautiful grin that exposed all of her teeth and fangs and told me that everything was going to be ok. "I love you," She mouthed. "So much." I suddenly felt much braver. "I love you too!" I replied. She blew me a kiss and finally satisfied, I skated back to the bench to get ready for the Captain's meeting. I took a seat next to Eric, looking at him. He was craning his neck over the bench, waving at Elena . She was waving back just as furiously, standing on her seat and embarrassing the entire Sokolov family. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Saying hi." He said, leaning. "Focus on the game." I ordered. "Oh come on," He complained. "You can say hi to your girlfriend but I can't say hi to..." His voice trailed off and he suddenly looked very shy. "To...?" I asked. "To my girl... friend. She's a friend." He finished, his cheeks turning dark. "Nice save." I replied, clapping him on the helmet and making his entire head wobble. "Make sure you make some more tonight so you can impress your girl- friend, who's a girl and a friend." When I saw the black-and-white shirted referee skate to the center of the ice, I hopped off the bench, catching Viktor's attention. Together, we skated to the center of the ice, slowing down to a stop. The referee nodded at the both of us, turning on his headset. "Gentlemen, congratulations on making it to the California High School Hockey State Championship. You have done your school a great service and have made them really proud." He said, his voice magnified by a hundred and echoing all throughout the arena. "Let's have a great game of hockey. Let's be safe and let's have some fun. Captains, shake hands." Viktor and I clasped the hands of the captain and alternate captain of Liberty High School. Their captain was easily the smallest person on their team, a few inches shorter than Viktor. The rest of the Liberty Minutemen were enormous. "Good luck, buddy." I said cordially. "Thank you." He replied curtly. After we concluded our handshakes, Vik and I skated back to the bench, then back out to the ice with Jordan and the Kelly brothers in tow to get ready for the national anthem. We lined up, facing the American flag and placed our hands over our hearts. Even if it was a country that hated us, it was still our country. We loved it. After the singer concluded, a young man in a United States Marine Corps dress uniform, we took our spots on the ice. The ref skated in front of Viktor and the opposing center, clutching onto the hockey puck. He looked at Viktor, then at the opposing center. Then, he stuck his hand out, dropped the puck, and off we went. The sound of the hockey blades scraping on the ice was lost in the roar of the crowd as ten skaters rushed into action. I felt the nerves escape my body in the thrill of the fast-paced action. Viktor had practiced immensely on faceoffs alone, and he skillfully outmaneuvered the opposing center, winning the puck and flicking it to Jesse Jordan on the right. Jesse skated forward, trying to gain some ground, before realizing that the defenseman bearing down on him was a really big guy. "Oh shit," He cried. "Vik! HELP!" Jesse passed the puck back to Vik just as the defenseman in the grey gave him a wallop that sent him tumbling into the boards. Vik managed to secure the puck with his stick, keeping it under control. The two of us beared down on the last defenseman, outnumbering him two-to-one. "Get him, baby!" I heard Abby scream. The defenseman, impatient at waiting for Viktor to make a move, skated forward to get in his path, trying to disrupt him from making a play. Although he was bigger than Viktor, Viktor had more heart and more hustle. He yelled something expletive in Russian before lowering his shoulder, colliding with the other defenseman and stopping him dead in his tracks. I could only watch as Viktor barrelled the Liberty Minuteman over, securing the puck again with his stick. From the attacking zone, he fired off a slapshot and watched it sail through the air before-... "Holy shit." I muttered, thinking this might've been the fastest goal Viktor ever scored in my career. The referee's whistle was drowned out as the arena exploded, the volume of the deafening audience and goal horn making my head hurt. Even though I preferred the Labyrinth to the SAP Center, this was much louder. Way more louder. I skated towards Viktor, intent on giving him a testosterone laced chest bump when WHAM! The defenseman that hit Jesse earlier slammed into my side and sent my flying to the ground. Luckily, it wasn't that hard of a hit, but I was still winded all the same as I landed flat on my back on the ice. I heard the referee's shrill whistle and an uproar in the stands as a blend of angry yells, jeering, and catcalls. "Are you alright? Chris, buddy!" Dan... or Henry... no, I think it was Dan asked. "Are you..." "Hurt?" Henry finished, skating over. "'M fine." I replied grimly, taking his hand and letting him pull me to my feet. "Thanks guys." I looked around for the defenseman, before I saw him pleading with the ref. The ref vehemently shook his head, giving him a two-minute penalty for a personal foul. Seething, the defenseman stormed to the penalty box, but not before giving me a dirty look. With Liberty High School now shorthanded due to the penalty, we moved on to a power play. Despite Liberty being shorthanded, we knew we were in for a fight. Liberty weren't the Southern California Conference Champions for a reason. But, they didn't have our fervor, or will to rise up. We made play after play and hit after hit. The game was back and forth for almost the entire first period there was another score. With a minute left, Liberty High School was moving the puck around in their defensive zone, hoping to buy time to get set up to make another offensive run. Seeing an opportunity, I rushed forward just as the puck was being passed to a Liberty defender. I swooped in and stole it, toe-dragging past him. With nothing between the me and the Liberty goalie, I fired off a wrist shot. The puck sailed past the goalie and when the light turned on, I screamed in jubilation. "M-V-P! M-V-P! M-V-P! M-V-P!" The crowd cheered, screaming their approval. I made to skate back to the bench, but I was intercepted by the defenseman I stole the puck from. I only knew his last name from his jersey, Jones. White-faced with fury, Jones was still managing to have an ugly sneer plastered onto his face. "Think you're good aren't you, huh monster lover?" He seethed. "Fuck your shit." I didn't answer. Even though my insides were boiling at his earlier hit, I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of getting the better of me. I made to skate back to the bench, but the defenseman stepped in front of me. "Running away?" Jones taunted. "Back off." Viktor snarled, skating up next to me. "Lest you want to get your ass handed to you. Come on, Chris." Viktor draped an arm behind me and we skated past him heading back to our bench. "How does it feel to be a bloodsucker you fucking leech?" Jones called. Viktor immediately stiffened, slowing down and looking back at him over his shoulder. "Leave it!" I said at once, taking Viktor by the arm. "Let him yell. He's pissed because he's terrible at this sport." "I heard you like leeches number fourteen!" He continued, skating up behind us. "I heard you're even dating one. How can you be with a killer? A person who can end your life with a single snap? How can you not see that?" "You, you shut the fuck up!" I snarled, anger boiling in my stomach like lava. I normally played with an almost gentlemanly conduct, but this little shit was completely asking for it. I looked around desperately for the ref, but he was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Great. When we actually needed a ref, they were suddenly gone with the wind. "Vik, move your ass back to the bench! NOW!" Here's something that I always think about whenever I'm in a jam. 'What would Stasi do?' What would she do? She'd probably try to be mature and level-headed and would drag Viktor back to the bench kicking and screaming. Except, that wasn't what I wanted. What I wanted was to punch Jones in the mouth as hard as I could. So I thought, "What would Elena do?" Elena would probably say something like "Screw it, last game of the season. I'm throwing some haymakers." "Leeches don't even deserve to live." Jones uttered, sneering. I don't remember what happened next except for a few things. I remember freezing and I remember my grip going slack on Viktor. I wasn't even aware that I released him on accident. All I knew was that a second later, Viktor was skating like hell towards Jones, intent on causing as much pain to him as possible and I was skating like hell towards Viktor, intent on preventing him from causing as much pain to him as possible. "Viktor! VIKTOR NO!" I shouted. With the crowd bellowing from the stands, Viktor launched himself like a projectile, tackling Jones to the ground and sinking his fist into his chest and pummeling him as hard as he could with his fists, all the while swearing loudly and snarling like a crazed animal. I wrapped my arm around him, yanking him off of a curled up and bloodied Jones. "Idiot!" I screamed. "Chto vy dumayete, chto vy delayete?!" "He said Annie and Elena didn't deserve to live!" He howled. His fangs were elongated and his eyes were completely black. Angry tears of blood were threatening to run down his cheeks. "I know buddy, I know." I sucked in a breath of air. If this had been anywhere else, I would've thrown punches. But, in truth, I hated fighting. I didn't blame Viktor though. The Sokolovs, and vampires in general were terribly protective over the people they loved. Stasi was a huge example of that. I winced as the referee blew his whistle, ordering Viktor and I to return to the bench. I wrapped my arm around the sniffling kid who I considered my own brother, escorting him back to the bench. Rather than take a seat there, Viktor tugged himself free, shuffling into the penalty box. "How do you like the game now, big fella?!" I heard Ricky bellow over the din of the crowd at Jones, who was getting helped off the ice. The referee skated over to Coach Butler and I, an indignant expression on his face. As captain and coach, we were the ones who he relayed all the penalties to. "Ok, here's what we got," He announced furiously. "That's going to be two minutes each for the both of blue for fighting-.." "Both of them?!" Coach Butler sputtered. "He was breaking up the fight!" "That's my job to handle, Coach." The referee retorted. "Not your captain." "Nice job you did. Did you not hear what he said?" I spat. "Can the attitude." The referee ordered. "Or I'll penalize you again for unsportsmanlike. Now get in the box." "I hope you're happy, ref!" Coach Butler snapped as the referee skated to the opposing bench amidst a chorus of boos. I stomped into the penalty box in disgust, opening the door and slamming it shut behind me. Viktor looked up in surprise when he saw me enter. "He penalized me too." I growled, unbuckling my helmet and throwing it on the floor. I tried to ignore the kid making funny faces at me through the glass, because I knew if I looked at him, I was going to smile, and I was supposed to be angry right now. I plopped myself down on the chair, glaring at Viktor. "Was it worth it?" I asked. "Yes." He replied instantly. "Every second of it." I took a deep breath of air, looking at him. What Jones said about Viktor's family, which was my family as well, had left me seething. "Next time," I told him. "Go for the nose." ****** Fighting in hockey was an established tradition of the sport. The fight that took out Liberty High School's best defenseman had left them rattled and intimidated. In return, it had given us so much momentum, that the scales had tipped in our favor. Even though we were short-handed two players, brilliant play by the Kelly twins kept them from scoring on us. By the time the third period came around, we were in the lead 5-1 and absolutely cruising through the game. The only focal point in this third period was in the final minute, when Coach Butler played all of the seniors plus Viktor. We merely kept dumping the puck and making Liberty chase after it, playing no real meaningful hockey and just wanting the clock to run out. Liberty High School had already given up all hopes of staging a comeback like our last game, and when the clock finally winded down, the stadium exploded. Quite literally. Royal blue confetti was raining down all around us. "Ladies and gentlemen," The announcer screamed. "Your Belcourt Minotaurs are State Champions!" The entire Belcourt bench lost their minds, pouring out of the player's area and onto the ice. Viktor and Jesse sped towards me. I didn't see them until crushed me in a hug because I was half-blinded by tears. Jesse seized me around the neck, screaming and sobbing into my shoulder. Dan and Henry joined our group hug, then Eric, then Coach Butler, then finally the rest of our bench. Tangled in a hug, we cheered in unison, raining hands down on each other's backs. I broke out the hug, intent on skating to the glass so I could see Stasi, but I was met with a wave of cameras and flashing lights as reporters and media personnel poured onto the ice. I wafted my hand, begging for them to get out of the way. All I wanted right now was to see the love of my life, gorge myself on junk food and ice cream, and maybe eat one of my mom's grilled cheese sandwiches. Then, it finally dawned on me. In a decade of playing sports, I had won my first state championship. By the time I had managed to get away from all the cameras, Stasi was already on the ice, sprinting towards me. There was confetti in her hair and she looked exhausted, but I don't think she ever looked more beautiful. She threw herself into my arms in a hug, planting a passionate kiss on my lips that made my brain turn into a puddle. I didn't care that the cameras all around us were taking our picture, and that we'd probably find ourselves on the front page of every newspaper in the city, because I was with her. We kissed until we needed air and then Stasi finally pried her swollen lips away from mine. "Lyubov!" She screamed, cupping my cheeks with her cold hands. Her voice was hoarse and gone from having screamed and cheered the whole day. "You won! We won! We won!" "We did." I breathed, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I love you so much." "I love you too!" She cried, burying herself in another hug. "Ech! You're all smelly and sweaty!" "Sorry!" I laughed. "I never said it was a bad thing." She whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Christopher, Christopher!" A female reporter cried, interrupting our reverie. "Piper Wright, San Francisco Public Occurrences! What would you attribute to your win here? Was it your excellent playing skills? Was it your insistence on revenge for the DTOSA? Was it your intent to prove that nonhumans were better?" "Nope." I replied, breaking the hug regretfully but holding Stasi at my side. "It was this girl right here whom I love with all my heart. It was everyone out there in the crowd. It was everyone on the team. It was the coach. It was everybody. We all did our job and that's what wins games." "Come on, Chris!" Stasi sang, tugging me on the arm and rescuing me from answering any more questions. "Let's go congratulate everybody!" "Duty calls." I told the reporters, giving them a two-finger salute. We barely got ten steps away before we were crushed in a hug, my parents wrapping their arms around Stasi and I. "Proud of you, son." My dad said, looking at me. "What a game." "Yes!" My mom added. "You played tremendous. The scouts that were here are going to be super impressed!" "Scouts?" I questioned. "Yes! College and NHL scouts were here!" "Was UCLA one of them?" I asked, hopefully. "Maybe." My mom said hopefully. "I didn't see them, but dear, don't get hung up on that! You should be celebrating with Anna! You won! You won the State Championship!" "Yeah," I said. "I guess we did." I tightened my hold on Stasi, pressing her cold, delicious body against mine. "Can we have grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner?" "Of course!" My mom laughed, kissing me on the cheek. "Anything for my little boy!" While Stasi talked to my parents, I looked around at the ice. It was cramped and crowded with so many different species of nonhumans, but smiles were on everyone's faces. Except Viktor. He wasn't smiling because he was being chewed out by Yulia and Anton, while Elena and Jazz were doing their best to give him thumbs ups behind her back. "Lyubov," Stasi asked. "Huh?" I looked at her. "I said, want to go say hi to my parents, or do you want to just walk around?" She repeated, brushing some tendrils of raven hair out of her face. "Or we can go home if you want. I know you're tired. This is your night." Going home actually sounded like a great idea. I was tired. No, I wasn't just tired. I was freaking exhausted. My teeth were still chattering from the adrenaline of the game and I wanted nothing more than to go home and dive with Stasi under the sheets and crash. But, I'd be missing out. When was there going to be something like this ever again? "It's our night." I corrected, tapping her on the nose and making her smile bashfully. "But, let's not leave before they do the trophy presentation. Let's go say hi to your parents. They should be over there." I replied, pointing at Yulia and Anton. Hand in hand, we skated/walked through the crowd, our parents following us. Everyone was partying. The Kelly twins were starting a dance party with Ricky, Ms. Euthixie, and Principal Finch and I swear I saw Jesse Jordan, Zach Brady, and Mr. Coppergut making snow angels in the confetti. There were even newspapers being distributed, with the title: "Belcourt High School are California Hockey Champions!" "Good game, Christopher!" A man said, jumping in my path and surprising the both of us. He was dragging along with him his wife, son, and daughter. He clasped onto my free hand, shaking it up and down. Although he was sporting Belcourt colors, he was a human. "Damn good game!" "Thank you." I said gratefully. The man was short and thin. A completely normal dude. His face wasn't really remarkable. He reminded me of the generic characters in the video games that Stasi and I played. You always see them but you can never make out the finer details. Except this man... I knew him from somewhere. "Do I know you?" I asked. "You don't recognize me?" The man asked, raising his eyebrow. "Honestly, I do." I chuckled. "I know you from somewhere, but my brain is completely shutting down right now. I couldn't remember my street address if you asked me." "I'm sorry to hear that. But, you'll find out who I am in the future. We owe you a massive debt and are intent on repaying it." The man laughed. "Here, why don't you meet my wife, Stephanie? These are my two children, Charlie and Nancy. They're your biggest hockey fans!" My smile brightened as the two shy kids stepped out from behind Stephanie's legs. While Nancy was enraptured with Stasi and her fangs, Charlie looked at me as if I was some god. I unstrapped the velcro on my gloves, gesturing for him to come closer. Tentatively, they both approached us, and I handed Charlie my left glove and Nancy my right one. Even though they cost a fortune, I didn't think I needed them anymore. "Thanks for coming." I said. "Thank you, Mr. Williams." Charlie mumbled, holding the glove to his chest. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a black sharpie. "Can you sign it?" "Sure can!" I uncapped the pen and signed the glove in my loopy handwriting: 'To Charlie, my biggest hockey fan. - Chris.' I handed the glove back to him and he thanked me before going back behind his mother. "Thank you," Stephanie said. "We're in your debt." "Don't mention it. Really." I replied. "It's just a glove." "Not just the glove." Stephanie insisted. "We wouldn't know what we would do without you two." "Oh come now, darling. He'll remember us in time. As a matter of fact, perhaps he'll see us in the future!" The man said enigmatically, wrapping his arm around his wife. "Come on now, Nancy, let's leave these two to go celebrate." "Ok, daddy." Nancy said, unprying herself from Stasi's legs. The sight of them had absolutely melted my heart. Nancy was completely taken with Stasi. She almost had a sense of wonder in her eyes, as if she was asking: "How could someone so dangerous be this friendly?" "Thank you once again, you two." The man said. "Enjoy your victory!" "Thank you?" I awkwardly replied as they waved and departed. I turned to Stasi. "That was weird. Why does it feel like I know them from somewhere?" "I have that same feeling too, lyubov." Stasi scrunched up her nose in thought. "But I can't for the life of me remember. This is going to gnaw at me for the rest of the weekend." "We'll figure it out." I said, wrapping my arm around her. "Come on, let's go see your parents." We both walked off to general direction of Stasi's parents. Thankfully, we weren't interrupted by anyone. "Hi Anton, Hi Yulia!" I chirped, saving Viktor from getting lectured anymore. Yulia turned on me and her look immediately softened. "Oh, Christopher! What a game, eh!? I'm so proud of you." She effused, crushing me in a tight hug. She looked pointedly at Viktor. "The both of you. I'm so proud of both of you. My own sons. Although, you still shouldn't have started the fight, Viktor." "I don't blame Viktor in the slightest. You should've heard what the other guy said." I remarked. "What did he say?" Stasi asked curiously. "I'll tell you later." I replied, letting go of Yulia to shake hands with Anton. "No fair," Elena complained. "You tell her but not me?" "I'll tell you later too, little squirt." I laughed. "But, I don't think you'll like it. It was actually pretty offensive." "Nothing my virgin ears can't handle." Elena replied brightly. "Any idea where Eric is?" "I saw him talking to a reporter over there." Stasi said, pointing in the general direction of our star goalie. "Thanks, Annie! Bye, mama! Bye, papa!" Elena waved before scampering off. "Be back here in a few, Elena. Good game, Christopher." Anton rumbled, pulling me in for a hug. "Thanks, Anton." I mumbled. We broke the hug and we all conversed with each other, the both of our families simply basking in the celebration. We got plenty of praise and requests for pictures from spectators and players (both from Belcourt and Liberty alike), and our friends. I was simply going through the motions until somebody tapped my shoulder pads. Anton stopped talking with my dad in mid-sentence, raising his eyebrows. I turned around, looking at a slight man. He was shorter than me, but wiry. An obvious football player in his youth, he had a bulky build and a strong body, but he looked anything not so strong now. As a matter of fact, he looked agitated and scared. "Governor Lawson," Anton nodded. "Sokolov." Governor Lawson replied tersely. "I just came here to congratulate Mr. Williams on an excellent game he played." He stuck out his hand for me. "Great hockey game, young man." Tentatively, I took his hand. The warmness surprised me. I guess it was because I was just so accustomed to holding hands and touching Stasi. "Thank you, but it was a team effort. I couldn't have done it without everyone on my team and at my school. I most certainly couldn't have done it without my brother behind me." Viktor waved at Governor Lawson. The fact that the Governor congratulated me, and only me, was not lost on anybody. Governor Lawson nodded silently and tried to let go of the handshake to walk away, but I held firm. He was trying to make a hasty retreat, but I wasn't going to let him. "Can I introduce you to my family?" I asked politely. Governor Lawson looked around at us, a fearful expression lacing his eyes. "Alright." He said quietly. "Good." I replied, letting go of his hand. I gestured to my parents. "These are my parents, Robert and Susan. These are my other parents, Yulia and Anton. This is my teammate, center Viktor, and this is my best friend, Anastasia." "Yes, I know about her. Your relationship is well-known. A human and a vampire. Together." Governor Lawson said with disdain. "May I call you Annie?" "I prefer Anastasia." She sniffed curtly. "Anastasia it is then." Governor Lawson replied awkwardly. "How goes the bill on getting weres tagged, Governor?" Anton asked. The Were Tracker Bill was going to be an extension of the state interpretation of the DTOSA. It was going to be a clause requiring all weres to be implanted with a GPS tracker. Supposedly to the government, having the location of a were in case they ever decide to take off on a 'rampage' was extremely important to keeping the whole country safe. It was a massive infringement on privacy rights and the Coven was doing all they could to make sure it was blocked. "It's going swell." Governor Lawson replied, fiddling with his suit. "No thanks to your office." "Good." Anton replied, giving the governor a fang-filled grin. "I'll be seeing you in Sacramento, then. I might just bring my intern if he decides he wants to go." Anton clapped me on the shoulder so hard, he nearly sent Stasi and I reeling to the ground. "I hear there's a lot of people in your office thinking he's the next best thing since sliced jugulars." "The proper term is sliced bread, dear." Yulia corrected gently. Even though he was a politician, he wasn't exactly known for his tact. "Right, sorry, my love." Anton said, putting his foot in his mouth. Yulia and my mom were looking at Stasi out of the corner of her eye. I knew why. When Anton said sliced jugulars, Stasi immediately stiffened, rubbing her arm meekly and suddenly looking downcast. No matter how much we loved each other and how much we trusted each other, I knew Stasi was always going to be worried about feeding, worried about hurting me, about taking something that I needed in order to live. The one thing she never seemed to get though, was that she never needed to be anxious about that. She was my best friend and the love of my life and I was going to give her what she needed to survive with a big smile on my face. I squeezed her cold hand and smiled softly at her, having one of those wordless conversations that we always had. "It's ok." I told her without even opening my mouth. "Don't be sad. I love you." I gave her a peck on the cheek for good measure, making her blush immediately. Stasi immediately relaxed, giving me a dazzling, loving smile and holding tightly onto my hand. She wasn't the only one uncomfortable about what Anton said, though. When Governor Lawson caught sight of Anton's fangs, he immediately shivered. "I would expect nothing less, Sokolov." He replied. "Now then, I guess I'll be taking my leave. I'll be delivering the trophy to you soon, Chris." "Great. I'll see you on the stage." I replied, watching Lawson beat back a hasty retreat. I turned and looked strangely back at Anton. "I'm going to Sacramento with you? When did that happen?" "Can you?" Anton asked anxiously. "You're popular around the Coven office up there, da. You and Anna both. The people seeing you two after you win a game like this, it will be a good morale boos-.." "I'll do it." I confirmed. I had resigned myself to the fate of being the mascot of the Anti DTOSA movement a long time ago. "Only if Stasi "I prefer Anastasia" Sokolov comes." She punched me softly on the arm, giving me a fangy grin. "You didn't even have to ask me, lyubov. Of course I'm going to be there. I'm going to be there when there's the victory parade, I'm going to be there when e're in college, and I'm sure as heck going to be next to you until you get tired of me." "Which is never." I murmured. "I'll be there until you get tired of me too." "Which is never." Stasi confirmed happily. Her crystal blue eyes were filled with delight. She brought a cold hand up to my face, ruffled my hair, then down to my cheek and pulled me in for a kiss as our parents aww'd and took our photos. ****** It was so surreal seeing such festivities all around me. How did I even get here? Just one year ago, I was just a normal high school junior at a normal high school. Now, I was the captain of a team of supposed misfits and the president of a school that was supposed to be full of dangerous nonhumans. It's crazy how things like this happen. This was going to be one of the happiest moments of my life. I was on the stage overlooking the crowds of people. It took only a few minutes to get set up, the SAP Center staff working tirelessly on rolling out small platforms and interlocking them together like legos. In a moment, they'd be presenting the trophy. "How do you feel, Coach?" I asked, looking to my left. "I don't... I can't answer that question right now," Coach Butler began, stroking his beard. "Why don't you go first, Annie?" "Me?" Stasi asked. "Why me? I'm not even on the team. Chris should go first." I had convinced her that this wasn't my win. It was our win and she should bask in the glory too. It wasn't just because I missed her presence either. She was with me all my life. She was with me on the ice. By default, she deserved credit for the win too. "What?" I gaped. "Why?" "Because you're the player. Now go, or I'll make you run laps." Aside from the fact that I wasn't on the team anymore, I decided to speak. "I mean... this is, this is cool, you know? I'm probably never going to feel this experience again in a long time. Maybe in my entire life." "You'll feel this feeling again, Chris. You too, Anna." "You think so?" We both asked at the same time. "I know so. I got a message say-.." Coach Butler said, before he was cut off by the sound of music playing through the arena. The crowd cheered as the trophy was carried out by a man in a wheelchair. My eyes widened when I realized who it was. "Ni za chto!" Stasi gasped. No way indeed! Goren Virven, the first nonhuman of the National Football League who was paralyzed from the waist down, was carrying our trophy out to us. Like the Red Sea, everyone parted so he was let through. He wheeled himself methodically and slowly, letting the players next to him touch the trophy and plant kisses on it. Even though it was covered in fingerprints, I knew I was going to give it the biggest kiss I could. Finally, he reached the base of the stairs, passing off the trophy to Governor Lawson. Governor Lawson hustled up the steps, walking to the front of the stage. Amidst the deafening boos, he began to speak. "What a wonderful hockey game tonight! That's what high school hockey is all about, ladies and gentlemen!" I didn't know how he was managing to stay so composed. The Liberty crowd had all but left the arena, and that left only Belcourt supporters. The jeers and boos from the royal blue crowd were so loud and they were making Coach Butler and I crack up. That promptly stopped when I received a sharp elbow to the stomach from my beautiful vampire best friend next to me. "Principal Finch," Governor Lawson said into the microphone, turning to her. She was right next to him, doing her best not to smile. "Under your leadership, you have assembled a team that will go down in history. What an unbelievable achievement for your school, your team, your fans, and your community. Take this trophy home to Belcourt and enjoy it. Congratulations." As Governor Lawson beat a hasty retreat, I watched as Principal Finch held up the trophy, using the microphone to say a few words. Like the rest of the audience, her voice was hoarse from cheering and applauding, but the crowd ate it all up. As a matter of fact, the crowd roared it's approval, it's blight on the celebration now gone. Governor Lawson passed me on the way down the steps, making eye contact with me. Right then and there, I could see that he fruitlessly held on to the notion that humans were somehow better than monsters (DTOSA advocate to the end), but we had proved that we were most certainly equal. I prayed that he'd rage against the dying of the light to prove we were not equal. Because we sure as hell were going to. We were going to fight for our equality. And I knew that when Stasi and I were together, nothing was impossible. "Hey, Chris?" Stasi asked. "Yeah?" I turned to her. "I love you." She said dreamily. "I know. I love you too, more than you know." "I think I know, Chris." Stasi murmured happily in that delightful accent of hers. "You think so?" I breathed. "I know so." I wrapped my arms around her lithe frame, pulling her tight to me and gave her soft, cold lips a kiss as we basked in the afterglow of a game of a lifetime. To be continued? ****** Stay awesome, Holt

To everyone else: Whew! Here it is. Sorry it took so long! Enjoy! ***** Chapter 1: You know what feeling I hate the most? Helplessness. If you really knew me, you'd know why. I prided myself on being the man, the one who never cracked under pressure. I always wanted to feel in control of how things were and when I was helpless... let's just say I do what I can to not feel that way. It's an ugly feeling. Except, that was what I felt at the moment. That feeling that things were totally out of control and you could no nothing except hold your breath and stare. There was no pain greater than to be helpless in the face of someone's suffering. I was absolutely paralyzed with fear. It was like a devastating car-wreck unfolding before your eyes. You want to do something to prevent it, but you can't. You can only watch. All I could do was gaze in horror as the brightly colored projectile sailed through the air and hit a poor lamia boy in the forehead. "Durak!" Stasi gasped, looking at Viktor. "What've you done?!" Although I couldn't tell her full facial expression because her eyes were hidden behind her large sunglasses and I was behind her, I knew the crystal blue orbs I loved were wide eyed in panic and alarm. "Watch where you're throwing those! Ubedites', chto oni na samom dele obrashchayut vnimaniye!" Viktor was one step ahead of her. He was already leaning off the side of the railing, cupping his hands around his mouth. In true vampire apparel, he was wearing a royal blue baseball cap and large sunglasses, copious amounts of sunscreen applied to his face (although, not as much as Stasi. She had the more sensitive skin). "Sorry dude!" He cried, apologizing profusely at the lamia over the din of the crowd and the rock music thumping from the bus's speakers. "You ok?" If the kid heard Viktor, we wouldn't have known. In fact, the kid couldn't have been more happier at the opportunity to get free candy. "Thanks for the jolly rancher!" He yelled back, before getting swallowed up by a tidal wave of royal blue Belcourt supporters. The win that had brought the California High School Hockey State Championship trophy to Belcourt had everybody celebrating. As a matter of fact, even the weather appeared to be celebrating. Instead of the gloomy and cold cloud cover that usually blanketed the city, the March Sun had decided to make an appearance, shining it's warm rays on the city of San Francisco. We were on the top of an open-top double decker bus, able to enjoy the weather and the flying confetti to the fullest. Why were we on a bus, you ask? Well, it was tradition that after a high school team brings home a state championship, the city throws a victory parade for the school. It wasn't just any victory parade, though. It was a parade that many nonhumans had been looking forward to for a long time. A momentous celebration where it wasn't just a first-year school that won, but a school full of people that humans had deemed inferior. The turnout was huge. People from all over the state had come to the beautiful city of San Francisco to witness the historical occasion. The massive amount of people that were here weren't just Belcourt supporters. They were Civil Rights advocates that severely outnumbered any pro-DTOSA supporters that tried to show up. To most, this was the birth of the "Nonhuman" Civil Rights Movement, a fire of hope born through the ashes of hate and destruction. What a time to be alive. The entire school was participating in the parade. However, since the hockey team was the one that brought the trophy home, we took the prime spot. The entire team was split up among the first five buses. The rest of the athletic teams and academic clubs were relegated to the remaining few buses. Viktor, Stasi, and I, along with a few other players were on the first bus, as well as a few guests and students. Everyone loved us. Why wouldn't they? To these people, we were heroes. The bearer of the few good news that nonhumans have been begging for for years. To these people, we could do no wrong. We brought home glory, pride, and honor to a nonhuman-only school. As 'inferiors', we had proven ourselves champions. It wasn't just limited to the hockey players. Anyone from Belcourt High School was treated with pride and reverence. Because to them, Belcourt wasn't just a school. Belcourt was much more than that. It was a home. It was a home to us. We were a symbol, a symbol of hope, a possibility of being something greater than the label that was put on us. So as heroes and champions, rather than stand, smile, and wave for the entire two mile route, we did the next best thing. Viktor and I tore open the bags of candies that were provided for us and started to take potshots at any kid we could see that was exposed through the metal barricades and bodies of fluorescent-jacketed policemen. Stasi tried to be the mature and level-headed one, ordering the both of us to have the driver stop the bus so we could exit and walk alongside, passing out the candies in an orderly fashion. But, as soon as she saw how much fun we were having, she joined in, showing off her impressive arm strength and accurate eye. The kids ate up the candies like hungry werewolves. Once in awhile though, one of us threw a piece at a kid, only to have them not even pay any attention to us and get bonked on the head by a piece of hardened sugar. "The next time you hit a kid with a piece of candy, I'm taking the bag away." Stasi grumbled irritably. "You obviously can't stremit'sya k der'me." "I said I was sorry!" Viktor said defensively. "Jeez! No need to say I can't aim." "Just watch where you're throwing before you actually hurt someone." Stasi huffed angrily, unwrapping a Hershey's Kiss, popping into her mouth, and chewing away furiously. She crumpled up the foil and angrily shoved it into the pocket of her jeans. Even though we both possessed massive sweet tooths, she only ate chocolate and candy that vigorously when she was stressed out, angry, or when something was really bothering her. Something had her wound up and on edge. I didn't need to be her best friend to know what the problem was. I tentatively reached for her soft, cold hand, wrapping my fingers around it. Stasi immediately relaxed, looking at me with her big, crystal blue eyes through the fringe of her long raven hair. "You ok?" I asked. "Yes, I'm fine." She snapped. When she saw me wince, her look immediately softened. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, lyubov." She whispered in her soft accent. "I don't know why, but I just feel so cranky right now." "It's ok. We all have those movements. Hell, I have those moments all the time." I joked. "No, you don't." She observed. "You never get mad at me." "You never get mad at me, either. Not for long, anyways. You just get annoyed when I'm annoying." I pointed out. "What's wrong though? Do you know why you're feeling so moody?" "Not really. I feel so... bleh right now." She admitted, squeezing my hand with her cold one. "It's just... I don't know what's wrong. We're having fun, we're celebrating, the weather's nice... I don't... It's just..." She struggled to explain further, trying to find a way to explain why she was feeling the way she was feeling without raining on my parade. I knew what was wrong the moment she started talking. In fact, I knew it was going to be a problem as soon as we parked ourselves on the open-air deck of the bus. The weather was certainly nice and even though it was in the cool 70s, there was not a single cloud in the sky. To me, this was perfect. To Stasi, it was too perfect. Vampires were nocturnal and with their sensitive skin, many vampires abhorred the Sun and the outdoors, preferring the reclusive life in the safety of darkness. The Sokolovs were the exception to hating going outdoors, but they still had the ultra-sensitive skin. The Sun was causing problems for Stasi and her royal blue bobble hat was doing little to ward away it's rays. Her vampirism was preventing her from fully enjoying herself. I knew she was trying to stick it out for me and I loved her for it. But everything she did simply spoke wonders of what she really wanted to do. Her growing irritation, the way she constantly kept rubbing in more sunscreen, the longing looks at the stairs down to the lower decks... "We should go downstairs." I blurted, cutting off her diatribe and holding onto both of her hands. "I want to sit down." I winced. I hadn't made for it to sound so whiny when I said it, but at this point, I didn't really mind as long as it made Stasi more comfortable. "I-... what?" Stasi asked. "Downstairs. We should go downstairs. Me and you." I said. "I don't want to throw candy at kids anymore." "What? No." Stasi argued half-heartedly. "You're the captain and the president of the sch-.." "GET IN MY VAN, KIDS!" Viktor screamed, throwing a handful of brightly colored candies at a screaming pack of future Belcourt students. He was pumping his fist with one hand and holding his phone with the other, putting everything he thought notable on Snapchat. Stasi and I both looked over her shoulder at him, breaking into laughter. "Still want to stay up here?" I asked, cracking a smile. Stasi scrunched up her nose in thought. "Well, not really. The Sun is making me feel exhausted. My face is itching and burning at the same time." She admitted, sighing. "You know me too well, lyubov. Let's just head down to the shade and when we near the end of the parade, we'll go right back up. Deal?" "Deal." I confirmed. "Do you think my dear little brother will be ok by himself?" Stasi asked, peering at Viktor. "Da. On budet v poryadke." I replied. He looked absolutely ecstatic, his face frozen in a fangy grin. He was locked in a state of euphoria, pumping the crowd up. Despite his outgoing persona right now, he was still the old Viktor, a shy kid at school. A few things changed though, he was confident in what he did and knew how to have fun with others. I knew Abby had a huge hand in that. I made a mental note to notify Principal Finch that I was designating him as my successor for Belcourt School President. "Alright then, let's go." Stasi said, intertwining her fingers with mine and leading us down the revolving stairs to the lower decks. It wasn't as packed as I thought it'd be. In fact, this was the first time I even saw the lower levels of the bus with people in it. We made our way to an empty pair of seats at the back near the stairs, sitting down on the comfy cushions. As soon as I relaxed, I tried to subtly stifle a yawn but I ended up failing miserably. "Sleepy?" Stasi asked, smiling softly at me. I opened my eyes, looking at her. I swear, every time I looked at her, my breath hitched. She was so beautiful, with her long, flowing raven hair and her big, bright crystal blue eyes. A smile grew on my face. Why wouldn't I smile? If I ever laid eyes upon her, it meant that I was with her. My best friend and the love of my life. "A little." I admitted, adjusting my position. "No guess why." Stasi observed, leaning back against the window. "We've been up since... what time?" "Five in the morning." I grumbled. "You could've slept in, you know. You didn't have to come." "And leave you here moping and miserable all by yourself?" Stasi asked, flicking me on the forehead. "Not a chance, lyubov. I love you too much to put you through that." As the head of Belcourt leadership, I was 'volunteered' by the school to arrive at the parade route really early this morning to help out and do a final review of the route. The problem was that Stasi was sleeping over at my house. Not only was it going to be hard to extract my arms from around her, but the thought of her waking up alone in my bed looking around for me broke my heart. Still, I had a job to do and I wasn't going to fail the school. Against my better judgement, I began to plot my half-hearted escape. I thought I was being quiet and stealthy, but as soon as I slipped out of bed, my wrist was grabbed by an ice cold hand. The narrowed icy blue eyes told me that I was either going to hop back in bed with her so we could sleep in or she was going to come with me, no matter how much cajoling I did. I begged her to go back to sleep, but she was adamant that she come along. I was actually glad she came with me this morning. Of course, I wasn't going to tell her that. If I did, she'd give me a triumphant, beautiful fangy grin on her gorgeous face and would tell me "I told you so". But in truth, I think she knew that I was happy she was here. I was always happy when she was with me. No, not just happy. I was ecstatic she was here. We hated being separated from each other on our own accord. "Aren't you tired? You're the vampire and all. You're supposed to be asleep during the day." I joked. "Only when I'm not on medication, lyubov. You know that." Stasi laughed lyrically, patting my cheek. "But, I can never be tired when I'm with you." "Neither can I." I said, my cheeks turning pink. We conversed for a few more moments before playing a people watching game. We were pointing and looking out the window, laughing at some of the rowdy Belcourt supporters. We must've been making quite a racket, because as soon as I gestured and loudly announced how awesome a person's Minotaur costume was, a head popped up over the first row of seats, looking back at us. "Chris? Annie?" Principal Finch called. "Is that you?" All the heads on the bus turned and looked at us. When they realized that it was indeed Stasi and I, excited murmuring immediately broke out among all the occupants. I even saw some elderly woman take out an antique phone to snap a quick photo of us. "Yeah, it's us." Stasi replied, straining to look over the seats. Principal Finch stood up in the aisle of the moving bus, walking towards us. "You two were on our bus?" She asked. "How come I didn't see you two when Coach Butler and I were greeting everybody who boarded?" "Well, that's because-..." I stammered, falling apart under all the attention I was getting from everyone. My hands gestured wildly as I tried to form something that resembled a sentence. I liked being praised as much as the next person (especially if it came from my best friend), but I drew the line at getting gawked at by astonished looks. I felt like I was one of the specimens that Stasi and I examined under a microscope in biology. "That's because-..." I repeated. "That's because Chris and I were already on board. We were on the top deck." Stasi said smoothly, coming to my rescue. She set her hand on top of mine, rubbing her thumb on the back of my hand and making me relax. This is one of the many reasons why we were so close. When I was faltering, she picked up the slack. "We were there since before the parade started." "Oh, that's right. I knew you'd volunteer with Chris. You both make the perfect duo." Principal Finch praised. She turned to everyone else on the bus. "Ladies and gentlemen, these are the two wonderful people that I told you about: Chris Williams and Anna Sokolov. They're the president and vice president of Belcourt High School. In fact, Christopher is the captain of the hockey team! Don't you think they make such a cute couple?" Smatterings of applause, cheers, and agreements broke out among the people on board. Principal Finch nodded proudly before turning back to us. "Why don't you two stand up and introduce yourselves to everyone?" Now, it was Stasi's turn to draw the line. I made to stand up but when I found myself having to tug on her hand, I looked at her, confused. "What's up?" "You go ahead and introduce yourself to everybody." She said quickly. "I'll just stay here. I'm not that important." "Like hell you aren't," I snickered. "You're the vice president and you're coming with me, dear. It's me and you against the world, hand-in-hand." She yelped as I pulled her up to her feet. "Dork." She grumbled in her accent. "Your dork." I corrected. "My dork." She affirmed. We made our way to the front of the bus and began to work our way backwards, introducing ourselves to the various people and having conversations with the people in the seats. They were all important. Locally important. Local politicians, businessmen, sponsors of the school, and they were all pleasant people, if not a little bizarre. When we finally got to the middle, we came across an elderly lady. The old woman was sitting alone, the seat next to her empty other save for a few of her belongings. An ornate box and a big backpack. She was a grizzled and ancient old lady of what looked like Native American heritage. Despite the shortcomings of her body, it was her yellow eyes that caught my attention. They showed the wisdom of ten lifetimes lived. All the struggling, all the pleasures, all the hardships. They were all there for Stasi and I to see. "Hello, I'm Chris." I said, making to shake her hand. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am." She grasped my hand but pulled me in as if I was a grandson, planting a kiss on both of my cheeks. She did the same to a scandalized Stasi, who looked as if her brain was malfunctioning from the sudden display of affection. Finally, she placed her rough hands on top of ours and looked at us proudly. She didn't say anything except take us in, almost like we were her own grandchildren. For a second, I thought that she had Alzheimer's or dementia and actually did mistake us for her own grandchildren until she finally spoke. "I've waited years to see something like this," She said, her voice noted with fatigue. "To meet someone like the two of you." "Excuse me?" I asked, confused. "Yes." She continued, cryptically. "I knew it'd happen in my life. My father would always tell me stories of great wolves who would descend from the sky and challenge the idea of hating someone because of their race." She patted our hands with her weathered and leathery ones. Lavish rings adorned her hands. I was wary that some were made of silver, but judging from Stasi's expression, they weren't. "You are those people." "You both will be remembered for a long, long time. If only my mate and our pack could meet you. They'd probably say that you two remind them of him and I." Her smile grew sad and forlorn. "Oh, how I miss him." "How did he..?" Stasi asked, taking the tactless words right out of my mouth. She winced, avoiding looking at the woman's imposing eyes. "I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me." "Oh, no. It's quite fine, dear." The woman said, patting her hand. "I've come to terms with his death long ago. He and my pack were euthanized in a police raid a long time ago. They're off on the next great adventure now," She smiled at me. "Imagine, child, how glad I am that I was allowed to wait to witness this occasion." She let us go after that, letting us continue to introduce ourselves to everyone else on the bus. I couldn't help but think on her words though. All those meaningless conversations I had with everyone else on the bus were fading away but, I'd always remember that old lady sitting off by herself. ****** After another fifteen minutes, Viktor finally came down from the upper deck, sporting a wide grin. His voice was raspy and hoarse from all his screaming and he winced when he spoke, but he still looked as if he was still having the time of his life. "We're almost at the Pacific Mall." He said. "Just thought you guys should know." "Great." I replied, standing up. I turned back to Stasi, holding out a hand for her. "Spasibo." She said, letting me help her into the aisle and pecking me on the lips. "Thanks for telling us, Vik." "No problem," He replied, preparing to head back upstairs before stopping. "Hey Chris, do you remember what bus the swim team was on? I completely forgot." "I have the list on my phone," I said. "I think it was Bus Ten. It's the one decorated with water stuff." "Thanks." Viktor replied. "Why did you need to know what bus the swim team was on?" Stasi asked. "Huh? Oh. Abby's going to need help getting off the bus with her wheelchair. I think she's the only one that trusts me enough to help her with the chair. She gets super embarrassed when it's anybody else." Viktor explained. "How nice of you," I said. "She's lucky to have you." "I'm lucky to have her." Viktor admitted, heading back to the top deck. I smiled at his words before turning to Stasi. She was already looking at me, her crystal blue eyes boring into mine. "That's a recurring theme," I mused. "What's a recurring theme?" Stasi questioned. "Luckiness. More specifically, how lucky I am to have you." "I'm the lucky one." She said, smiling softly at me. "No, I am." I argued. "Nyet. It's me. If I didn't have you in my life, I'd probably be wallowing my own self-pity." She shot back. I made to reply, but my voice faltered. What would happen if we didn't have each other in our lives? I was so dependent on her to hold me up and be my other half that I never once thought of where I'd be without her. I'd probably be finishing up my senior year at Jefferson, for starters. It was closer to home than Belcourt. But, that was superficial thinking. Would I still be the same Chris as I was now? Instead of donning the royal blue, would I instead be wearing the blood red for the DTOSA Advocate Group? (DAG) What about Stasi? What would she be doing? I was her only friends growing up (as she was mine, which showed how close we were.) If I never came into her life, what would she be doing now? Would she still be the same kind-hearted, beautiful, intelligent woman that she was now? Or would she be wasting away inside her room, trapped and isolated from the world? There were so many ways that my life could've turned out, some better, some way worse. I'm glad these were the cards that were dealt to me. I liked them. I liked them alot. "Lyubov?" Stasi sing-songed. "Are you spacing out on me again?" "What? Oh, no. I was just thinking." "Thinking?" She asked. "Yeah, thinking. By the way, let's settle it at we're both lucky because I'd be wallowing in my own self-pity right now if you weren't in my life either." "Spravedlivost." She giggled. "I love you, Chris." "I love you too, Stasi. Always have..." I said hopefully, brushing a few tendrils of raven hair away from her eyes. "Always will." She finished. I drew my head down to her, giving her soft lips a quick and chaste kiss and tasting strawberries. It was all we could do in public. Some people in the bus were already looking back at us. It was still enough to take the both of our breaths away. "What did Principal Finch say she wanted us to do again?" Stasi asked. "She said to see her when we're near the end of the route." I told her. "Ugh..." Stasi groaned. "Let me re-apply some sunscreen." The whole reason Principal Finch wanted us to see her when we were near the end was so she could authorize the bus driver to let us disembark and walk the rest of the route, hand-in-hand. The large crowds attending the celebration rally were going to be able to see us. It was a pre-planned show of unity between nonhumans and humans. Even though a small part of me never wanted the parade to end and to bask in the feeling of euphoria forever, a big part of me was happy that we were close to finishing. I was tired, sleepy, and wanted nothing more than to go home, gorge on my mom's food, have a big bowl of ice cream, and to cuddle in bed with my best friend and pass out from a food coma. Preferably after making love, but given my current state, that was optional. Just her presence was enough to make me content and happy. We walked to the front and I tapped on Principal Finch's shoulder. She was holding court near the front of the bus, entertaining some of the more 'important' guests. When she saw us approaching, she interrupted the slime to talk to us. Even though the slime woman must've been irked, when she saw who we were, that irritation went away in an instant. "Are we near the end already?" Principal Finch asked. "Yep. Viktor just told us." I replied. "Do you want us to disembark?" "Disembark?" The slime woman simpered. "Elmyra, are they going to walk the rest of the way?" "Yes, they are Molly." Principal Finch replied, standing up. As an elf, she towered over us with the height and elegance of a very tall runway model. "Are you two ready?" We both nodded our heads. Principal Finch smiled softly. "Good," She declared, clasping us on the shoulder. "I'll tell the bus driver to stop. You two enjoy yourselves when you get out on the street. Remember, these moments are your life. Be proud of what you have accomplished and what you are to accomplish later. We are all proud of the both of you." She gestured to Stasi. "Some more than others." "Hey," I complained, making Stasi giggle. "I'm only jesting, Chris." Principal Finch said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You make us all proud as well. Only slightly though." She turned her head to the bus driver, a goblin, and nodded her head. "These two will be disembarking." She said stiffly. Her distaste for the goblin driver wasn't lost on me. "Aye," The driver grumbled, slowing the bus to a halt. He pressed a button and the door opened with a hiss of air. "The bus will move with you two so try not to walk slow. We're late enough as it is. If you feel the need to get pampered or your feet get tired, just hop back on." Stasi started sputtering angrily at the goblin's rudeness, but I simply interposed and cut her off. I never had good experiences with goblins. To me, they were all rude little midgets. Of course, that'd be racist if I thought of them all that way, but it wasn't like goblins were doing anything crazy to try and change my opinion. "Thank you." I said cordially. "We really appreciate this." "Off." The goblin commanded, before turning back to looking at the road so we wouldn't see his crooked grin. "So I can tell the other drivers that I had Chris Williams and his girlfriend on my bus." We disembarked from the bus, stepping off onto the street to a huge ovation. The people nearest to us gasped, then cheered, screaming their approval that echoed on both sides of the street. With our free hands, we waved and acknowledged the crowd before we intertwined our fingers and began the walk to the end of the parade route, showing everyone that humans and nonhumans could co-exist peacefully (and in our case, lovingly) Even though I was looking forward to a moment like this in all my years of playing sports, it was bittersweet. Not only were the circumstances of the win capable of leaving a bad taste in my mouth, I hadn't received any offers from college or the next level... much less Stasi and I's shared dream of UCLA. I wouldn't even know where I was going to college until the very end of March. I could've possibly played my last few minutes of hockey and football this year and the chances were very real that I was never, ever going to play another down or period of the sports I grew up playing ever again. "Are you alright, lyubov?" She asked, peering at me curiously. It was kind of cool how much we were in tune with one another. She knew something was wrong with subtle body language... kind of like how I know if something's wrong with her body language. "Yeah, don't worry." I replied, forcing a horrible, crooked smile. Stasi squeezed my hand with her cold one. "You're going to play again, lyubov." She declared, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek that was cheered on by numerous onlookers. "Ya znayu, chto vy budete." ****** It wasn't a far walk to the end so Stasi and I got there in about fifteen minutes. We were smiling so much that our cheeks hurt. In fact, we weren't just smiling for the flashing cameras. We were smiling because we were together. I was with my girlfriend. My vampire. Once we arrived at the Pacific Mall, we were quite surprised to see it decked out in Belcourt colors. Who could blame them? The Pacific Mall was the only sanctuary for "non-humans" to congregate, truly relax and be themselves. It was a no-brainer that they'd want to take pride in their local school's achievements. But, if we wanted to be true to ourselves, we weren't just a school. We were a symbol and banner for our people. Our people... Why would I say our people if I was human? I ask that question to myself all the time. Actually, a lot of questions were getting asked of me at the moment. So many in fact, that I was beginning to feel a tension migraine. As a politically and socially upheaving event, human and nonhuman reporters were hounding as many students, players, teachers, and passerbys as they could before the trophy presentation. Stasi and I tried our best to slip away into the Mall so we could hide and enjoy our time together in the place where we grew up running amok in, but it was to no avail. Once they caught sight of us, they were like harpies. They sank their talons in and didn't let go. "Mr. Williams," A reporter screeched, holding out an audio recorder to me. "Congratulations on your win. Do you have anything to say about the team not being invited to the Governor's Office, as is tradition?" "Uh, you know..." I replied, wincing as a camera flash went off right in front of me. Not only did I probably have a stupid face, but the sudden flash of light was enough to make my head pound. "Governor Lawson is entitled to have whomever he likes in his office." "Would you have attended if the team had been invited?" The reporter pressed. No, I wouldn't have. As a matter of fact, I'm sure the majority of our team would've boycotted the visit. Governor Lawson's policies against nonhumans in the state of California were racist and borderline vile. "That's a good question," I replied bluntly. "Next." Stasi laughed melodiously next to me, making the corner of my lips turn up in a smile. I was channeling my inner Anton Sokolov. As an intern in his office, he always warned me of Stasi and I's impending popularity as symbols of the Nonhuman Civil Rights Movement and showed us a few tricks to answering questions without really answering them. I tried them on my parents with positive results. When I tried them on Stasi however, I just ended up having a beautiful, angry Russian vampire on my hands. "Christopher," Another reporter shouted, catching my attention. "In the championship game, a fight broke out between Viktor Sokolov and Garrett Jones. Do you have any comment on such a tarnish on an otherwise great hockey game?" "Things got a little heated," I explained. "One thing led to another and it got a little physical." "Was it race incited? Did it have anything to do with Viktor's species? Are vampires becoming too violent and out of control?" Another reporter asked. "No, no, and definitely no." I retorted, squeezing Stasi's hand. "To anyone who assumes that, they obviously know nothing about how passionate people can get about sports. It's a hockey game. It's supposed to be physical. It wasn't race incited nor did it have anything to do with species." "I have a questio-.." A reporter began, shoving a microphone in front of my face before Stasi finally snapped. She saw how I was getting more irate and ratty under the combined factors of being under microscope and having a migraine build up and her protective instincts kicked in. "I think that's enough," She said cordially, tightening her hold on my arm. She was wearing her bright, fangy smile. "We have to get good seats for the trophy presentation." "You're right." I said, withholding the fact that our spots on the stage were already reserved. "Thank you all for your questions." I let Stasi steer us away from the reporters in the general direction of where the stage was being set up, sifting through the growing crowd. The Mall was filling up with a bunch of people, all of them migrating from the parade route. We got a lot of looks as we walked past, no doubt because of our jerseys. In fact, I was shocked to find that there was a constant stream of little kids coming up to us, holding out balls, hockey pucks, and scraps of paper, asking for them to be signed. Somehow, by a miracle, Stasi was carrying a pair of colored Sharpies in her bag. Even though our feet were aching and we were tired and we didn't even think we were that important, we couldn't stop ourselves from happily signing and personalizing anything the kids wanted us to sign. It was something that required little effort on our part, but could potentially make an everlasting memory for the kid. Why not do it? Finally, the flood of kids slowed into a steady trickle and when Stasi saw me grimace in pain from my migraine, she looked at me concerned. "Is your head hurting?" She questioned. "Ny-..." I began, but she cut me off with a death glare, baring her fangs. "A little," I admitted. There was no use lying to her about it. She'd see right through it in an instant. "A little or alot?" Stasi asked, raising a delicate eyebrow at me. She stopped walking and turned to me. I was still captivated by her beauty. Her pale, porcelain skin was shiny with the sheen of rubbed-in sunscreen. Her long raven hair, as black as midnight, had small bits of paper confetti in them and her expressive and bright blue eyes conveyed happiness. Her smile was accentuated by her large fangs. She was the epitome of perfection. And she was right under my nose disguised as my best friend for fourteen amazing years. "Chris," She sing-songed. "You're staring." "I know." I admitted. "I just can't help that you're so beautiful." "Oh, what am I going to do with you, you dork." She replied, punching me gently on the arm. "You're so sweet, you're giving my fangs cavities. Now, answer the question." "What question?" "How much is your head hurting? A little or alot?" "A lo-..ittle." I said. "Lo-ittle?" She giggled. "A lot... yet a little. It alternates." I confessed. Stasi nodded, caressing my cheek affectionately. "After the presentation, I don't care what we're supposed to do, I'm taking you straight home, zaichik." "I won't fight that. I won't fight that at all." I said, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her towards me for another soft kiss that had the both of us reeling. I didn't even care if we were in the middle of crowds of people or being distantly followed by a shadowy Coven bodyguard. All that mattered was her. When we finally broke it, we were both breathing rather heavily. "I love you, Chris." She whispered happily, resting her head underneath my chin and wrapping her arms tightly around me. Even though we said those words often, I never got tired of them. In fact, hearing them was enough to make any gloomy day instantly brighter. "I love you too, Stasi." I murmured softly, holding her tight to me and reveling in the feel of her ample bust crushed against my chest. We were in our own little world, simply happy and content, no, not content, something better than content, with each other. It was something common that happened with Stasi and I, where everything faded away except each other when we were this close. Who would've known that I would've been fallen in hopeless love with someone that wasn't even my own species? "Awww! Look at the happy couple!" Elena exclaimed, skipping over to us and attracting a few looks from parade goers looking to get good spots for the trophy presentation. Despite her shattering of our little moment, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy to see Elena. Just seeing the spunky little ball of gleeful vampiric energy was enough to make anybody happy. "I knew you two couldn't have kept your hands off each other!" "Damn it," Stasi grumbled, reluctantly letting go of me and turning to her little sister with a peevish look on her face. "Shouldn't you be somewhere? Like getting good spots for the presentation with mama and papa?" "Nope!" Elena replied. "Belcourt students and families get their own roped off section. All the other plebs have to stand around us." "That's not polite to call them plebs." Stasi chastised. "Sorry," Elena said, even though she probably didn't mean it. "I just can't believe that they're going to be mixing nonhumans and humans in the seating. You would think that they'd seperate us to avoid having fights break out." She shrugged. "Anyways, what have you two been up to?" "We've been hanging out," I said. "Doing stuff, you know." "Right," She bobbed her head furiously. "Stuff. Was kissing each other a part of doing stuff?" When she saw us both blush madly, she laughed evilly. "Oh you two, never ever change." I was about to reply and try and change the subject, but Stasi beat me to the punch. "What did you do to the back of your jersey?" She tutted, swiping away at the dirt that was accumulating on the royal blue fabric. "It's gryaznyy." "Huh?" Elena asked, looking over her shoulder. Now, it was her turn to blush. "Oh.. I was uh... making confetti angels on the street... with Eric." "Confetti angels?" I asked. I didn't really care who she was doing it with. I was just wondering what the hell was a confetti angel? Were they like snow angels, except out of the confetti on the ground? "Don't judge me." She scowled, blowing her blonde hair out of her face. "It was a perfectly good idea. It just had bad execution." "I wasn't judging." I said. "Confetti angels aside, how'd you even find us?" "Easy! I followed." "You followed us?" "Nup!" Elena shook her head, her blonde ponytail flying in both directions. "I just followed your bodyguard over there. He's really discrete. No, but actually, I just came to get you guys. The trophy presentation is going to start soon and Principal Finch is going to honor you two, remember?" "Oh, that's right," I smacked my forehead. "Come on, let's head back, Stasi." "Right behind you, lyubov." The hockey team was given their own little private area to hang out in as they waited for the trophy presentation. Each player was going to be individually called up to the stage as a way of honoring them individually. Making our way back to the hockey area, it was clear that all the attendees were migrating to the stage for the trophy presentation. The crowd was noticeably less dense and it made it easier to walk. As a result, we got to the area in minutes. It was a large multi-room tent, holding the entire team. However, just as I was about to walk through the unroped area, Stasi dug her heels in. "What's up?" I asked. She gestured to the sign. I looked at it. It said: 'Hockey Players Only'. "So?" I asked. "I'm not a Khokkeist." She giggled, exposing her smile-accentuating fangs. "You heard Coach Butler the other day," I retorted, walking around behind her. I placed my hands on my vampire best friend's back, pushing her forwards. "You're as much of a hockey player as I am!" "Chris, no, no, no! Stop! I'm not a people person," She yelped. "STOP!" I only pushed harder. In truth, she completely was as much of a hockey player as I was, if not more. She was the sole reason I found myself motivated to play, giving me a kick in the butt or a kiss on the cheek when I needed it. She was my doctor, my best teammate, my trainer, my nutritionist, my number one fan, my best friend, my lifelong companion, and the love of my life. Everything I ever did on the ice and on the football field was because of her and for her. My very own vampire girlfriend. With one last shove, Stasi was sent stumbling forward into the hockey area, with me straight on her heels. As a matter of fact, I nearly shoved her right into Coach Butler. As a satyr sticking to his strict diet, he had a plate of salad in his hands and was watching us with an eyebrow raised. "Act your age, Williams." He scolded. "Not your shoe size." "Sorry, Coach Butler." I said. "His fault," Stasi pointed at me. "I know it was his fault," Coach Butler said. "Well, it wasn't technically my fault, since you were the one that du-..." "It was your fault," Stasi said pointedly, gazing at me with those crystal blue eyes of hers. "-... It was my fault," I conceded. "While we play the blame game," Coach Butler said, placing his salad down on a folding table. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about, Chris." "Oh yeah? What's up, Coach?" "Coach Freddy wants to set up a meeting with you. He said he has some good news about a college." "Did he say which one?" I asked eagerly. UCLA was Stasi and I's dream. It was one of the hardest colleges to get into in California. Coach Butler shook his head. "No, but he sounded pretty excited. Here, we'll do a joint meeting sometime the week after this one. How about that?" "Sounds good," I said. "I'll see you then. E-mail me the details." "You got it, Chris." Stasi and I walked away. When we finally out of earshot, she excitedly punched me on the arm. "Ow!" "Sorry," Stasi said, not the least bit sorry. "But lyubov, Coach Freddy wants to talk to you about college. College! Playing in college!" "I'm not going where you're not going," I said bluntly. "No, you're going," She said. "You're not going to throw away your future for me." "Stasi," I stopped walking, turning to look at her. I placed my hands on her curvaceous hips, holding her. "You're my future. I'm not throwing you away. If we have to go to community together, we'll go together. I'm not going where you're not going. You're stuck with me until the end of days." Stasi's lips quivered and I immediately knew why. It was one of her biggest fears next to her hurting me with her vampiric ways: me leaving her. No matter how much she pushed for me to chase my 'dreams', there was always that spot in her heart that begged me to stay. I'd never leave her though. Never in a million years. She was my lifelong companion, the one I trusted the most, the one I loved, even though she wasn't even my species. She was my dream and I was going to chase her until I died. "Promise?" She whispered. "Promise," I replied, kissing her. ***** It took a while before we were called out. It was unlike how we had to wait for our games to start. We had more than a few members on our team and while some jogged quickly to the stage, some, like Viktor, took their time, hyping the crowd up or doing something funny for the cameras. But, rather than stewing in nervous excitement, Stasi and I relaxed and lounged on one of the shared couches. Finally, we heard the bated breath of anticipation from the crowd since we were the last ones in the tent. "Ladies and gentlemen, number fourteen, at the left wing, Chriissssss Willliiiaaaaaaams!" The announcer boomed. Stasi and I, hand in hand, left the tunnel to raucous applause, with smiles on our faces and interlocked hands raised to the crowds of people as we made our way to the stage, where the shiny silver trophy lay on it's display. It was probably covered in fingerprints and dirtied, but I was planning to kiss it anyways. We were finally revealing ourselves to the people. Not an idea of us spurned by a news report or a regaling tale of courage. The real us. Two normal high schoolers who were coincidentally deep and hopelessly in love, doing their best to live in an ugly, brutal, and racist world. Everyone was all happy to see us, to finally see the real us. Except one person. A teenager with a very scraggly looking beard. Well, at least he looked like a teenager. Even though I was abysmal at guessing the ages of people, I knew that he couldn't have been older than me by that much. That's not what drew my eyes, though. He stood out amongst the crowd because of his species, being one of the few humans that we've seen so far. He was different from everyone else in almost any other way, though. For starters, he was the only one that didn't have a speck of royal blue on him, wearing an expensive gray jacket that was left unzipped, revealing a black button up underneath. They matched fairly well with his jeans. The most damning feature of all was the piercing look of his dark eyes, eyes that conveyed hate, uncertainty... fear? I found myself mesmerized and unable to look away. Time slowed down, leaving just the two of us. The man stared at me and I stared at him. He faltered, almost as if surprised that I was giving him any attention. Seconds passed between us, minutes, hours, days, years. "Lyubov," Stasi asked, looking at me with her big, crystal blue eyes. "What's wrong?" I tried to look at her and lie, to tell her that I thought that nothing was wrong, but I found myself unable to. Maybe unwilling was the right term. I didn't want to take my eyes off of him. All I could do was watch him. Then, over the din of the cheering crowd, the man opened his mouth, screaming a single, ugly word that I heard countless times over the years. A word that was spat behind my back for my close friendship with Stasi, a word that was attributed to me on multiple news sources, blogs, and what have you. A single word that became my moniker in the eyes of my own species simply for believing in what I believed in. "TRAITOR!" He screeched. Activity around him stopped immediately, many rounding on him in shock. What did he say? Why did he say it? Who is this guy? What is he doing here? He looked left then right wildly, before finally focusing on me again. Like before, I saw the hate and contempt in his eyes, and I almost thought it impossible, but it was worse this time. Inflated by stupid adrenaline, by the prospect of being heard and seen by countless amount of people watching. He plunged his hand into his jacket. My eyes immediately widened. Weapon. Gun. He was carrying a gun. I always thought that Anton and the entire Coven were being overbearing and overprotective, assigning us Coven security. Now, I really saw why. Stasi and I were banners, symbols for the Anti DTOSA movement. Even though we were just kids, we carried a message that resonated through the entire country. That humans and nonhumans could co-exist and love each other with passion and intensity. Except, not to this man. He wanted us ripped down. We were so close that if he reached forward and I reached forward, we would be able to comfortably shake hands. He was so close to me that if he did have a gun, he wouldn't miss. Everything happened in slow motion, milliseconds stretching to hours, and hours stretching to years. I don't remember everything I did. All I remember was stepping in front of Stasi and bringing up my arm in stupid belief that it could protect Stasi and I from bullets, that my skin was impervious to damage. A thousand thoughts flashed through my mind. Instead of getting the chance to marry the girl I loved, the girl who had my back since I was five, instead of getting to create a family with her and love her, and cherish her to the end of my days, I was going to die here. I wasn't going to be able to teach my kids how to throw a football, how to play hockey, how to speak flawless Russian without a bad accent, how to be kind to one another. I wasn't going to be able to witness Stasi being the perfect mom or ever find out if the DTOSA was ever truly going to be repealed. I wasn't going to know whether or not we were just going to be stuck in this whirlpool of hate and despair forever or if there'd actually be some change. All my hopes and dreams, everything I ever wanted or will want, wasn't going to matter anymore. It was all going to come to an end, right here. Gunned down on the steps of the Pacific Mall, a torn down banner for all the world to see. A bad and ugly ending to a wonderful life. And I was helpless to stop it. The man pulled out something metallic, the sunlight glinting off the the shiny material. This is it. I was happy in a twisted and demented way, though. Out of all the ways I wanted to die, none of them ever had me alone. I was with my best friend. All those years we shared together, no matter how many more I wanted, gave me a great life. "GUN!" A woman screamed, her centaur hooves clomping as she reared back, nearly kicking someone in the head. "Oh god! He's carrying a GUN!" No matter how unfair it was, Christopher Williams and Anastasia Sokolov were at the end of the line. Chapter 2: Here is the land. It is cold and white. It has snow. It is very pretty. Here is the people. Mother, Father, Chris, and Stasi live in the snow. They are happy. They are not sad. See Stasi. She has big fangs. She wants to play. Who will play with Stasi? See the human. The human has lots of blood water. The human will play with Stasi. They will play a good long game. Play, Chris, play. Fall in love, Chris. Love, Chris, Love. Lose your blood water, Chris. Lose, Chris, Lose. Lose your life Chris. Lose, Chris, Lose. Wake now, Chris. Wake, Chris, Wake. Here is the land it is cold and white it has snow it is very pretty here is the people mother father chris and stasi live in the snow they are happy they are not sad see stasi she has big fangs she wants to play who will play with stasi see the human the human has lots of blood water the human will play with stasi they will play a good long game play chris play fall in love chris love chris love lose your blood water chris lose chris lose lose your life chris lose chris lose wake now chris wake chris wake. Hereisthelanditiscoldandwhiteithassnowitisveryprettyhereisthepeoplemotherfatherchrisandstasiliveinthesnowtheyarehappyhteyarenotsadseestasishehasbigfangsshewantstoplaywhowillplaywithstasiseethehumanthehumanhaslotsofbloodwaterthehumanwillplaywithstasitheywillplayagoodlonggameplaychrisplayfallinlovechrislovechrisloveloseyourbloodwaterchrislosechrisloseyourlifechrislosechrislosewakenowchriswakechriswake. Time to wake up. ***** "Don't you dare touch that pudding," I warned, raising a finger and wagging it towards Stasi. She pouted and reluctantly let go of the container, placing it back on my desk. "That's my last pudding," I continued. "You literally ate all the other puddings a week ago. You don't get to eat this pudding. I earned that pudding." "Darn. Okay," She replied quietly, smiling a weak fangy smile. She stood up and walked over to me. When she got to the side of my bed, she looked at our parents as if to ask for permission. Our moms simply nodded happily. Stasi grinned widely, before bending low and giving me a soft, cold kiss on the forehead, brow, cheek, and lips before moving her mouth to my ear. "I love you, Chris." She whispered tearfully in her accent, sending tingles down my spine. "I know I said that a million times already and asked you this a million times too, but please don't ever do this to me ever again. My heart won't be able to take it." "I love you too, Stasi." I replied, getting choked up. "I promise I won't." She made to pull away, but I had latched onto her hand and wouldn't let her cold hand go. "Wait," I murmured. "I have something to tell you." "What is it?" Stasi asked. Our parents and Elena, ever the nosy loved ones of mine, instinctively leaned in to hear my quiet growl-like voice, husky from all the screaming at the parade. "Stasi," I whispered. "Yes, zaichik?" She asked, her face millimeters from mine. Her mouth was so close to mine that her fangs could just nip at my skin. "You can have the pudding," I told her. "I know how much you like the vanilla ones." Our mothers and Elena all collectively 'awwed'. Stasi's face immediately broke out into a dazzling and goofy fangy grin of delight. She giggled and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "We'll share it," She declared. "It's not fair that I get to eat all the pudding in your house and you don't even get a single dollop." She went back to the table to collect the pudding. But, she couldn't pull away. I was still holding tightly onto her hand. I was unwilling and unable to let her go and get the vanilla-flavored custard for us. She looked at me confused, before she instantly relaxed. "I'm not going anywhere, zaichik. I don't want to let go either." She said quietly, coming back and giving me another kiss on the cheek to placate me. "Ya obeshchayu, ya seychas vernus'." Even though my parents didn't speak a word of Russian, I don't think they needed to to understand what Stasi said. I nodded mutely, letting go of my best friend's hand. As soon as the feeling of her cold skin left mine, I instantly missed it. Even though she was only a few feet away, my heart yearned for her to come back to me. What had happened today made me realize how fast I could lose everything in an instant. "Are you feeling OK, Christopher?" Yulia asked warmly, standing up and walking to the side of my bed. "I'm fine," I replied, sitting up in bed to meet her and wincing when pain flashed through my rib cage. It hurt. As a matter of fact, everything hurt. My head hurt, my chest hurt, my arms and legs hurt. It felt like I was hit with a ten ton truck or a werebear on some serious steroids and bullshark testosterone. Now that I think about it, those could be used interchangeably for units of pain. "No you're not, you little soldier." My mom tutted, stepping up to my bed and fluffing my pillows. "Lay back and don't move." "Yes, mom." I replied dutifully. Although I repeatedly said I was fine, they still went and got extra pillows and plushes from the guest room and closet, enough to make me a rather comfortable nest of fluff. I was quite content to lay here, resting my sore and aching body. "How are you actually feeling?" She asked, touching my cheek tentatively, almost as if afraid that I was a mirage and her real son was dead. Well, that wouldn't do. "Like Ii've been shot." I quipped, making my dad, Anton, and Elena break out into spatterings of laughter. I somewhat regretted making them laugh. If they laughed, it made me want to laugh and for now, laughing hurt. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stasi immediately stiffen. She rounded on me, glaring daggers at me and baring her fangs. I had a feeling that I just talked my way out of a spoonful of vanilla pudding. "That's not funny!" My mom growled, looking at my dad with an icy look in her eyes. "Damn you, Robert. You know that's not funny!" "Da, eto ne tak." Yulia added, rounding on Anton and Elena with a cold look on her face. My dad and Anton stopped laughing right away. Elena probably would've, had I not winked at her behind Yulia's back and flashed her a thumbs up. She smiled weakly at me, before looking back down at her lap in mild guilt. "Oh, come on, dear," My dad said soothingly, rubbing my mom's hand with his own. "It's nice to hear him be himself." "It's also nice to know that your son's sense of humor is alright," Anton added. "You know how Christopher is, zayka." "Yes, but I saw my baby boy nearly get killed because he was getting stomped on by crowds of people." My mom argued fiercely, making my dad and Anton place their feet in their mouths. "How can you say that's funny?" Funnily enough, did you know that in the event of mass panic or disaster, in some cases, the most dangerous thing to the people wasn't the actual disaster, it was actually the people? In a nutshell, all it takes is a wave of pandemonium to rush through a crowd for a terrifying stampede to occur. It doesn't matter where you are. Dangerous human stampedes can occur anywhere where mass groups of people congregate. And that's exactly what happened... Except, it wasn't as bad as it could've been. The young man who pulled the gun was immediately buried under a pile of parade goers and beaten to a complete pulp. Elena even managed to get a couple of kicks in, from what I heard. Stasi and I were wrenched away from him by our Coven security. She managed to stay on her feet but I fell to the floor. In the ensuing chaos of closely packed bystanders running, I was trampled and stepped on by a few people. It was like I had dived for a fumble in football and created a pile-up, but it was under a pile of raging centaurs and werebears. Worst of all, Stasi's hand was ripped from me, leaving me grasping and clawing at nothing but air. Elena told me that as soon as Stasi realized that I wasn't next to her anymore, her vampiric protectiveness kicked in. Her eyes turned to an oily black, and her fangs were elongated. She was snarling and hissing, cursing in Russian and trying to get to me with tears of blood running down her cheeks. She had gone mad with anguish. In moments though, I managed to get pulled to my feet by a few good Samaritans in the end, but the damage was done. I suffered a few cracked ribs and my body was covered in shoe-shaped bruises. I tried to hide the harsh injuries from my parents and Stasi, but they just knew I wasn't ok. As soon as they figured out that it hurt to breath, they took me right to the hospital where I was promptly checked out for any lasting injuries. Coincidentally, we went to the only few hospitals in the city that treated both humans and nonhumans. It was also where I was treated for the Brick Incident. When Doctor Shukla was satisfied that I was okay and that I didn't have a collapsed lung or a severe break, he cleaned the cuts that lined my face and arms and let me go home with the promise not to come back ever. All I supposedly needed to treat my ribs was time. So that was where I was now. After an exhausting morning and a hectic afternoon, I was going to be spending my evening recuperating on my bed, surrounded by my family. Lucy, Jazz, and Ricky were going to show up later, having already texted me and promising to bring a pizza for dinner, on the house from the Scaletta family. An excellent end to a celebratory day, if I do say so myself. "I'm sorry," I said, apologizing to Stasi for the not-so-witty remark I made earlier as she came back with the container of pudding clenched in her fist. I moved to the side to make space for her on my bed, hissing softly in pain. Her anger and irritation vaporized in an instant. "It's ok. I can't help it if you're a dummy." She replied softly, plopping down on the bed next to me so her cold body was snug against mine and fiddling with the plastic container of pudding. Unable to pry the foil cover away with her hands, she tutted in frustration and just brought the container to her mouth, using her fangs to poke a hole in the cover. Then, she jammed her finger into the hole, ripping away the foil. Satisfied that it was big enough to spoon pudding out of, Stasi inserted the utensil, spooning out a generous helping of vanilla confectionary. She held out the spoon to me. "Open." She told me. I shook my head, even though my empty stomach was protesting. I hadn't eaten anything since this morning. "You can have the fir-.." "Otkryto," She ordered forcefully, baring her fangs. I opened my mouth. Without taking her loving eyes off of me, she inserted the spoon into my mouth and fed me the delicious vanilla flavored pudding. I hadn't had anything sweet since hockey season started (save for a few cheat meals) and it tasted divine. "How is that?" She asked. "Great." I replied. "Good," She replied, spooning a smaller dollop of pudding into her own mouth. "I wonder what the news is saying," My mom piped up. She stared blankly at the TV that remained off. We kept it off for a reason. "They'll probably say he survived an assassination attempt." Elena said. "Say, do you have any more pudding?" "By law, they can say anything they want about him," Anton said. "Chris is a student and even though he's technically not a minor, I believe that the Coven is doing their best to keep things under wraps. Various videos of the attempt is still circulating, though." "It wasn't an assassination attempt," Stasi said softly, turning her head to look at the damaged photo frame on my bedside table. I turned my head to look at it as well. Only my parents and I could touch it. It was an ornate, silver photo frame. The glass was cracked and the silver was scratched, marred with dents and the smudges of dirt. Oh yeah. It wasn't a gun the young man pulled out. It was a photo frame. A photo frame with a family in it. Two sisters, the young man and his two parents. When the man was buried under a pile of parade-goers and security, he dropped the frame on the pathway. I was on my feet by then, wheezing and confused. The frame just caught my eye and I staggered towards it, picking it up and holding it in my hands as I was helped away from the crowd. It took Elena to accidently touch it at the hospital and burn the tips of her fingers for us to really realize that I took it. Vampires were naturally allergic to silver. Even incidental contact was enough to burn skin, or in Stasi's case, itch uncontrollably. So, the vampires in my room regarded the picture frame with something that was akin to trepidation and fear. "We're still going to find out who the man is so we can return it," Anton said gruffly in his boisterous accent. "We don't have a name, but he was beaten into a coma. Won't be hard to find him. Mark my words, Christopher, you won't have to look at it for long." The whole reason he wasn't dead was because of police. The San Francisco Police Department immediately cracked down at the chaos at the parade, launching tear gas canisters and pepper spray to disperse the crowd. "I don't mind looking at it. It's kind of humbling," I wheezed. "But yes, please find a way to return it." The entire room waltzed into a fine silence before Yulia spoke up. "Christopher? I think it's time to put the salve on." She stood up, digging into her clutch for the small, glass jar filled with an ointment that suspiciously looked like apple sauce. "You don't mind do you, Susan?" "Not at all," My mom said. "If it'll help him heal." "It will," Yulia replied. "Chris, your rubashka." "Right," I replied, reaching for the hem of my shirt and gingerly pulling it up. Inch after inch of skin was revealed. I managed to bring the shirt up to my sternum, unable to bring it any further. I was paralyzed with pain. The women in the room gasped at what they saw, tears welling in their eyes. One pair had clear tears, the rest, had blood. "Oh, lyubov..." Stasi breathed, gingerly caressing my cheek, as if afraid that itself would hurt me. "What has been done to you?" The skin of my abdomen was black and blue, battered into its state by a fairly large crowd. I gasped, my chest rising and falling as I tried my best to shrug. "Doesn't hurt," I wheezed. My best friend made a noise, her crystal blue eyes flitting back down to my chest. A shadow loomed over me and I looked up to see Yulia. She had the jar in her hand, the lid popped off. "I'm sorry, Christopher," She murmured, her green eyes contorted in pain. "I'll try to make this as gentle as I can." "I can handle it." I said. I didn't I could. I had that salve applied to injuries when I was younger and in youth football. Bad injuries, like the ones that made Stasi cry for what I thought back then was for no reason. The salve absolutely hurt to put on. The few minutes in excruciating hell was to add up to a few hours of peace, enough to let me breath painlessly and move around. Good old Russian medicine. Gently, Yulia scooped out two fingerfuls of salve, applying them softly to my chest. I nearly screamed with pain, my hand squeezing Stasi's hand so hard I knew it hurt her. It felt like I was about to pass out. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and nearly bit my tongue off trying to stay silent. "Mama!" Stasi cried. "You're hurting him!" "Skoro vse zakonchitsya." Yulia said. "Nyet!" Stasi hissed. "I'll do it myself!" She quickly snatched the salve out of Yulia's hand. Stasi's raven hair was in disarray, her fangs elongated, and crystal blue eyes giving way to an oily black. Terrifyingly beautiful. Yulia looked surprised. Her face immediately hardened, no doubt to scold or admonish her eldest daughter, then she laid eyes on me. She saw my pleading eyes and she faltered, simply bowing her head and letting my best friend take care of me. Maybe after everything that happened today, that was all I needed. Stasi immediately put to work, deftly dabbing on scoops on salve with shaking and trembling fingers. I don't know what she was doing that was different than Yulia... but it just felt... it felt better. It hurt, but the way she tentatively and gently slathered salve on my bruised and broken body simply felt reinvigorating and... in a way... painless. She'd never hurt me intentionally, so I guess that's what made it not hurt as much. Trust. I trusted her with my life. Just like how she trusted me with hers. ****** Finally, when the day turned to dusk and the Sun began to set, Yulia announced that they were going to go home before the police checkpoints got too crowded with the evening rush. As my dad and Anton set about cleaning up the chairs, Yulia walked to the side of my bed. No, our bed. Stasi owned just as much of the bed as I did. She looked at Stasi with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I suspect from the way you haven't let go of Chris the entire day that you'll be staying the night, Anastasia?" Stasi looked up at Yulia, nodding and brushing her raven hair out of her eyes. "Can I?" She croaked, her voice becoming heavily accented as it filled with emotion when faced with the prospect of leaving. Ever since we left the hospital, she hadn't taken her eyes off of me. "I don't want to leave, mama. I can't. I won't. I love him too much to do that." Her words made my heart flutter. I heard it often, but I never tired of it. "Vy mozhete. I don't know why I even ask anymore." Yulia said, shaking her head happily. My heart thudded in happiness when she said that Stasi could say. She turned to me, patting me on the arm before bending low to give me a kiss on the brow before bringing her mouth to my ear and whispering, "Get better, Christopher. Even though it's the weekend, make sure you get some sleep. I know how much time you can spend talking with Anna and I want you to sleep. I don't want to have to come back here to drag her home kicking and screaming because you're not resting, da?" "I will," I whispered. "Thank you, mama." Stasi said. "You're welcome, Anna. Come on, Elena. Say your goodb-... oh, don't tell me you want to stay too." She complained, seeing Elena pouting and stamping her feet. "Viktor can stay. How come I can't?" Elena demanded furiously. "Because Chris needs to rest," Yulia said, placing her hands on her hips. Her fangs were bared. "I my znayem, chto yesli vy tam, on ne poluchit ni odnogo." "His friends are coming over later." Elena whined. "Please, mama. He's my brother, too." Yulia made to reply, but faltered. Something flashed in her green eyes, the same eyes that Elena had. Maybe it was happiness, uncertainty, contentment? Pride? She blew out air. "So be it. You can stay." "Ya-.." Elena cheered. "But, do your homework!" Yulia ordered. "Go and get your backpack out of the car." "Thanks, mama." Elena said, skipping out of my room to go get her backpack. Yulia turned on us again. "It seems that I have lost all my children to a human," She joked. "First, my eldest daughter falling in passionate love, then my only son looking up to him like a hero, and now, my youngest daughter following in her older siblings footsteps." "Sorry," I replied, not that least bit sorry. I loved it when the Sokolovs spent time with me. They were my own siblings. My very own little brother and sister that I loved and cherished. Except Stasi. I loved and cherished her in a different way. After all, she was my best friend and love of my life. "No need, just make sure... if she has trouble with homework, you two will be able to help her, won't you?" Yulia asked anxiously. "I can ju-.." "It's fine, mama." Stasi interjected. "Really. Chris can help her with Istoriya and Ii'll help her with everything else." "I know more subjects than just history, you know." I complained. "I know you do, lyubov. I'm just better." Stasi teased. I gave her a disgruntled look, which promptly disappeared as she gave me a kiss on the cheek. "You two are so milyye," Yulia replied, ruffling my hair. "By the way, Christopher... do you have an extra synthetic blood pack in the refrigerator? It might be time for Elena or Viktor to feed." I nodded. "I do. Stasi's spare should still be ok. They have a long shelf life." "Good," She replied brightly, giving me a fangy smile. "Speaking of feed, when was the last time you fed, Anastasia?" "Two weeks ago," Stasi answered, averting her eyes slightly in embarrassment. I squeezed her hand. She was always a bit shy and secretly ashamed about her own vampiric nature. For that reason, we liked to keep what we did together private. In a way, our feeding sessions were unique to us. It was a symbol of our mutual trust and immense love for one another. No one else had that except Stasi and I. "Interesting, the feeding must've been especially potent," Yulia said, scrunching her nose in thought. "You still have the glow. V lyubom sluchaye, I'll see you two tomorrow, I hope. Get well, Christopher. Once you do, we can focus on getting Anastasia pried off of you!" "Mama!" Stasi complained. "I'm only jesting, Anna." Yulia said, winking at our blushing faces and smiling her teasing, motherly, fangy grin. "But I swear, you two share a soul. Take care of him, Anna." "I will, mama." She left the room after giving Stasi and I a hug. Well, she tried to give me a hug, but as soon as I tried to sit up, my chest flared up in pain. I settled for another kiss on the forehead. As soon as she left, Anton came back in. He walked to the side of our bed, holding out his hand for a manly handshake. "Get well, Christopher." He boomed. "Thank you, Anton. I will." I said, mustering up a smile and shaking his cold hand. "When can I resume my internship at the Coven? Better yet, when are we going up to Sacramento for that trip?" Anton shifted his feet uncomfortably. "About that, Chris... maybe we should hold off on you coming back to work so soon after your injury." "Why?" "Well, after what happened today..." Anton placed his hand on my shoulder. "Chris, I know you want to do right by everybody, but you shouldn't be worrying about this. You should be worried about school, about grades, about colleges." My heart wrenched when he said colleges. My future, our future, would be decided in the coming weeks. Decision dates were looming on us like the Grim Reaper. "Anton, I don't want this to be normal." I said, gesturing to myself. "I don't want this to be normal for anybody. This is wrong. This shouldn't happen. Things need to change. If no one does anything, nothing changes." My voice faltered, wilting under Anton's steely gaze. "Stasi... please." I looked at her pleadingly. It was underhanded, but I didn't care. She was always going to be a papina dochka. Anton was always going to see Stasi as his little girl. If there was one person that could move the mountain that was Anton Sokolov, it was his oldest daughter, Stasi. "Let us help, papa." She begged, giving her dad the big puppy dog eyes. "You said we'd be a big morale booster at the office. Let us do our part." I looked at Stasi quizzically. Something was wrong. Having grown up with her at my side, I knew her like the back of my hand, even better than herself sometimes. There was something in her voice, a flash of something that I couldn't quite identify. Anton sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "I never could fight against the double team," He mused. "Alright, Ii'll find a date for you two to carpool with me up to Sacramento." "Thank you, papa." Stasi said gratefully, snuggling back into my warm body. She was gentle enough not to jar me too hard, or touch any part that was sensitive. "It's alright, Anastasia," Anton said proudly. "Have a good night you two." He left soon after, leaving Stasi and I in the room. I just realized that we were alone for the first time the entire day. I turned to look at her, before leaning forward and capturing her lips in a smiley soft and sensual kiss that quickly turned passionate. I finally broke it, pulling backwards, leaving the both of us panting for air. "Thanks for convincing him, Stasi. I love you." "It's no problem. Us against the world hand in hand, right?" She replied, caressing my cheek. "God, I want you so bad right now." I murmured, touching her cold forehead with mine. Tendrils of her raven hair were tickling my face, but I didn't care. "With a few cracked ribs?" She asked, cracking a fangy smile and running her cold hand along my neck. "Are you sure?" "Yes. More than anything." "Later," Stasi replied, giving me a kiss to placate me. Her ears were perked up, no doubt from hearing Elena stomping up the steps. "Later tonight, I promise. I'll personally rock your world." "Sounds like a plan," I laughed. We both settled comfortably back into the bed before Stasi swore. "Shit." She whispered. "What?" "You made me ruin these pair of panties, too." She complained. ****** We settled into a comfy routine. Stasi and I were playing video games, while Elena was chugging through her Pre Calculus homework at my desk. We were burying ourselves in normal activities to forget about what happened today. That is, until I heard the doorbell ring. My parents greeted whoever was at the door and finally, I heard it. The huge, booming footsteps of the giant, Ricky Ortega. "Heyo, love den!" He greeted, stooping low and poking his head in through the door. His unruly black hair was covered by an extra large Belcourt High School Hockey State Champions hat. He held out a huge box of pizza. Two in fact, stacked on top of each other. "Pizza's here!" He was followed shortly after by Jazz, who slithered in. "Oh, I knew it." She said triumphantly. "Those videos of you getting stepped on circulating Twitter don't do it justice. You're alive and well!" "He is!" Ricky agreed, setting the pizza boxes down on top of my desk and walking over to the side of my bed. "How you doin', C-man?" He thumped me on the chest with his basketball-sized hand. Hard. "Uhhh!" I grunted in pain, resisting the urge to scream like a little child at the fire that was engulfing my chest. Stasi gasped next to me, rounding on Ricky. "Idiot! He has cracked ribs!" She snarled in her accent, her fangs elongated and pupils dilating. "Did you not see the text we sent you!" She turned to me, holding onto my face softly. "Lyubov, are you ok? Does it hurt?" "Fine." I wheezed, resisting the urge to clutch at my ribs. That'd only make the pain worse. They were still tender to the touch. "I'm fine." "Sorry." Ricky said bashfully. "It's ok." I winced, touching at the tender flesh. "Where's Lucy and Viktor?" "Here! We're here! Hey Chris," Lucy said, skittering into my room with Viktor on her tail and making it suddenly seem more compact, now that I had all my friends inside. Their proportions weren't exactly my shape and my room was as small enough as it is. Lucy walked on all eight legs to the side of my bed, looking down at me. She must've just gotten off work. She was still wearing her barista outfit. "How are you feeling?" She asked, smiling warmly at me. "Great," I chirped. "I feel like Ii've just been shot." Ricky and Elena immediately burst into laughter. I tried my hardest not to look at Stasi, but I could just feel it. I felt her crystal blue eyes that I loved so much boring a hole into the side of my head. I turned my head to Stasi and indeed, she was glaring at me. "Sorry." I said cheekily, giving her a quick kiss on the lips to placate her. It did. "That's not funny," Stasi complained, although the corners of her mouth were twitching. "It really isn't. Nobody's laughing with you. They're laughing at you." "I'm laughing with him," Ricky pointed out. "So am I." Elena added. "Same here." Jazz said. "Quiet, you three are ruining the joke." Stasi hissed. "Jokes aside," I said. "How was the ceremony after what happened?" "They cancelled it and got everyone off the stage. We actually didn't know what happened until way after since we were a bit away from you guys," Lucy explained. "All we heard was some screaming and a lot of people running. When Annie texted us that you guys were at the hospital and sent that long text explaining everything, that's when we really found out." "Sorry," I said. "What could you possibly be sorry for?" Lucy asked. "For... you know." My voice trailed off. "I don't think you actually know what you're sorry for, zaichik." Stasi murmured, wrapping her arm around my stomach and pulling me tight to her. Even though my entire front was aching, tender, and covered in bruises, the feeling of her arm on mine, gently holding onto me, simply made the pain go away. It made the emptiness of my heart disappear too. With her, I was complete. "Ruining the ceremony, probably." Ricky said. He broke open a box of steaming pizza, pulling out a slice. Strings of melted cheese connected the pizza to the container. "Don't be sorry. It was boring anyways. Anybody hungry?" Plates and drinks were passed around and we dined. Our impromptu dinner was uneventful. The only thing that really was of note was Stasi's adorable indecisiveness on what kind of pizza to get. I made her get both, since I knew she was going to eat them both anyways. "So," I said, biting into my pizza. "Anyone hear back from any colleges yet?" "Nope," Jazz said through a mouthful of pie. She swallowed, before coiling her tail to make a makeshift table to place her plate on. That was pretty neat. "All I've gotten so far were rejections and waitlists. It seems East Coast schools aren't too kind to... my kind." "You got that right J," Ricky retorted. "I'll be lucky to get into any State schools. Hell, I might even have to go to community college." "What's wrong with community college?" Lucy asked weakly. My heart broke into a million pieces. Lucy and her mom weren't the most financially secure family out there. They lived in the bad part of San Francisco, the ghettos that were strictly for nonhumans only. Lucy had a job at a coffee place to try and help her mom make ends meet, but they were still struggling. Unless Lucy got a full on scholarship (which, given her species and about average grades, was an nearly no chance), she was going to the local community college. Financial aid wasn't really a thing for nonhumans. It said so in the DTOSA Educational Decrees. "Well, nothing's wrong with community, it's just-.." Ricky began. "So, how about that prom?" I interjected loudly. Lucy shot me a grateful look. "Anyone got any plans?" "I'm taking Abby," Viktor said brightly. "Of course you are. That's a given. It's as much a given as Chris and Annie going together, if not more." Elena replied. She had a sour look on her face. "I can't believe that I won't be able to go." "Upperclassmen only." Stasi boasted, tightening her grip on me. "Unless of course, you get an upperclassman to ask you." "Fat chance of that happening," Elena said glumly. "What about you, Jazz? Are you going?" Viktor asked. "Yeah, with this big guy right here," She answered, coiling the end of her tail around Ricky's leg. His face reddened and he looked away. "We're going as friends. I thought that it'd be the most fun with him. At least, we will be going once he asks me. You'll ask me right, won't you dear?" "Of course I will," Ricky stammered, running his large hand through his curly hair. "Why wouldn't I?" "Good!" Jazz said brightly. While they went off on their own little side conversation, I turned to Lucy. She was watching and listening to Ricky and Jazz talk with a far-away look in all of her eight eyes. "You're going to prom, right Lucy?" I asked, interrupting her reverie. "Huh?" She looked at Stasi and I. "Oh... no. I probably won't." "Why not?" Stasi gasped. "It's senior year. You have to go." "Yeah," I added. "One last party until we all leave!" "Well, it's just..." She wringed her hands and tapped her four back feet. "Proms so expensive and I can't... I can't afford it." She croaked tremulously. I could already see the tears burning behind Lucy's eyes. Suddenly, I felt like the world's biggest idiot for even bringing it up. "Oh, Lucy..." Stasi said apologetically. "I'm sorry." "Don't be. It's fine. Besides, can you imagine me in a dress?" She laughed pitifully, trying to inject some humor to hide her hurt. "I'd have to get it custom made and I don't even know any tailors. You know how expensive those can get. I can't even dance, anyways." "You taught me how to dance," I told her. "I did?" "You did," I confirmed. "Remember? For the Coven Ball?" "Oh well, I guess I did." She conceded, shrugging as if nothing was wrong. "But, I don't want to put my mom through that. She works hard enough as it is." She wiped furiously at her eyes before smiling a horribly forced smile at me. "Anyways, did you finish with Anna's birthday present yet? Ricky's been talking about it all week." "My present?" Stasi asked, looking at me with a small smile growing on her face. "Yes, your present." I told her, squeezing her hand, turning to her, and looking into her eyes. Right then and there, we had another wordless conversation using just our eyes, body language, and our love for each other. Instead of us sharing a secret or an inside joke, we schemed and plotted. We were going to find a way to drag Lucy to prom by all eight legs if we had too. ***** When everyone finally departed and left my house to go home, I was left staring up at the ceiling. My thoughts kept going back to Lucy. No matter how shitty I thought I had it, there was always going to be someone out there that was worse off than me. I should never take things for granted. I sniffled, looking up at the darkened ceiling, tears beginning to burn behind my eyelids and a lump beginning to form in my throat. All of a sudden, things were rushing to the surface. Repressed emotions, feelings, just everything. I was exhausted from the day. Most importantly, I was tired of life. I was tired of my life. I was a kid. That was all I was. I was just a kid in high school. I was a kid given a man's job. Me. Us. We were supposed to pick up the pieces, fight for our people, and take on the whole fucking DTOSA. Was I even ready for that kind of responsibility? Were we both even ready for that kind of responsibility? Stasi. The door to the bathroom opened as Stasi finished taking out her contacts and wiping off her lightly applied makeup. She inspected herself one last time in the mirror before flicking off the light, navigating to my bed through the darkness. She had changed into her comfy clothes, her comfy sweatpants and comfy sweatshirt and adorable glasses. The mattress squeaked as she laid down next to me, sighing in contentment. We were silent, but neither of us were sleeping. We were just two best friends basking in the presence of each other. That is, until... "You're so warm," Stasi whispered, burying her cold face into my shoulder. "Thanks, you're pretty hot too." "Kak ty delayesh' eto?" Stasi murmured. "How do I do what?" "This," She said, looking at me with those piercing blue eyes of hers. Her heavily accented voice was choked with emotion. "Everything. I almost lost you today and you're still so calm and composed. How? How do you do it, lyubov?" Because I was conditioned never to crack under pressure, or at least demonstrate that I couldn't. It was a trait that was forged through the rigors of nail-biting games, both football, basketball and hockey. Cooler heads won games and sometimes, I got so non-plussed en route to clinching game winning drives that I didn't think it was possible to be so laid back. I was cool, I was composed. Except, I wasn't. I crammed those nerves and emotions away when it was time to get serious and when I was alone or with the woman I loved, they all came rushing back to the surface. I spent the nights after games staring at the ceiling, simply decompressing and debriefing what happened hours ago. And now, everything was finally registering. "I'm not," I admitted, my voice hitching. "I'm not. I'm not calm and composed." "Chris?" She asked, her voice ripe with trepidation as she looked up at me. "Are you... are you alright, lyubov?" "I'm just... I'm-..." I sniffled, wiping my nose. "I'm just tired." "I know," She whispered. "It's been a long and emotional day, hasn't it?" We both faltered into silence before I decided to speak up. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "We should've left the parade as soon as it ended. We should've just gone home. I'm sorry for making you stay." "Chris, Chris, oh Chris," She whispered, shifting her body so she was cradling my head in the crook of her neck. "Don't you dare apologize, lyubov. Don't you apologize for someone else's mistake." Despite the pain in my ribs, I held onto her tightly, simply breaking down and letting everything out. I was lost in a maelstrom of emotion: pain, confusion, sorrow, despair. "It was my fault," I mumbled. "I wanted us to stay. I wanted everyone to see you, to see us. To see us together. I can't help but think, what if he actually had a gun? What if he actually hurt you? I never would've forgiven myself. I don't know what I'd do without you. I just.. I-.." "Sh..." Stasi shushed me, holding onto me as if I was a life preserver in the middle of the ocean. The only thing keeping her afloat. Her voice was soft and I just knew. I knew she was crying too. "It wasn't your fault. I'm still here lyubov. I'm never going to leave you. I will never regret doing anything with you as long as I'm with you." "You're stuck with me, remember?" She continued, her hand absentmindedly caressing the back of my head with her cold, splayed fingers. "You're the only person I trust more than I trust myself. Lyubimyy chelovek. I will never leave your side. Ever." "Promise?" I whispered. "Obeshchayu," She confirmed, kissing me softly. "I love you, Stasi." "I love you too, Chris." She murmured, kissing me again and holding me tight to her curvy, soft, and cold body. "Now, it's been a long day. It's time to sleep, lyubov." "I can't," I confessed. "Being here with you is better than being in my dreams." "There'll be plenty of time tomorrow to spend time," She cooed in her accent. "I just want you to sleep, my little blood bag." "Blood bag?" "Shush. Sleep." She softly ordered, smiling at her little joke. So thus, in her arms, and her soft accented voice humming an old lullaby to me, I fell asleep. But not before whispering my undying love for her. My best friend. The one I couldn't do without. The one who I loved despite her species. I never wanted her to leave me. Chapter 3: When Sunday came around, it was early. Extra early, in fact. So early that it looked like it was dark out. Stasi and I had already planned to spend time together throughout the weekend, never leaving each other's side. The night before, Anton texted us that he found the identity and hospital room of the man who threw the picture frame at me, and he agreed to let me visit early in the morning, where there were no cameras or media to hawk us so we could return it. So thus, with sleep deprivation flooding our bodies, we packed ourselves into my car and Stasi drove us to the hospital, not trusting me to drive in my currently condition. Even though she was a bit sleepy, she was still a better driver than I could ever be wide awake. The clock had barely struck six when we pulled up in the parking lot of Mercy General Hospital. Stasi parked the car at a free spot... which was pretty much anywhere. The parking lot was deserted. She turned off the ignition, looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face. "I'll stay here," She said quietly. "You're coming," I told her. She was about to reply, but I simply tilted my head. She was coming and nothing was going to change my mind. "Okay," She whispered, before sighing. "When I lay eyes on him, I'm going to beat him back into a coma." "Technically, he wasn't the one th-.." "He was," She said sharply, looking at me fiercely, with her elongated fangs and dark eyes. "He was the one that hurt you and made you like this!" I took a deep breath and placed my hand on her col-... no, not cold. Gloved hands. Not only was it really cold out at this time of the morning, given the city we were in, but I was taking no precautions. Stasi was not going to accidently touch the silver frame on my watch. I was not going to have her itch uncontrollably at school today. "It was a harmless gesture that got out of hand... but I don't want to fight with you, Stasi. Let's just go," I muttered, not willing to argue with her. In a way, she was right. Despite the harmless gesture, he was at fault. He set the crowd off. It was all his fault that he turned a happy day, a day that can't be repeated, where we were going to be recognized for our outstanding achievements, into a sad and tumultuous affair. I was always the peacemaker, talking everything out first and resorting to fights last. But, a small ugly part of me wanted to put my hands around his throat and squeeze as hard as I could for his insolence and stupidity. Stasi's face softened. "I'm sorry, lyubov. I didn't mean to fight." "It's ok," I leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "Let's just go." "Okay." I opened the car door, sliding out of my car, wheezing and gasping. Stasi hurriedly left the driver's side, rushing around so she could help me. She laid her crystal blue eyes on me, whispering encouragement and helping me along to the front doors of the hospital. I patted the pocket of my gray waterproof jacket, feeling the familiar heavy weight of the picture frame. A nurse looked up when we walked in. Her look of worry at seeing my painful gait was quickly replaced by fear, then disgust when she recognized us. "This hospital is for humans only," She said, her voice having a nasal pitch. "Go to San Francisco General if you want treatment." "We're not patients," Stasi replied. "We're visitors." "You need a special waiver for monst-.." "Here," Stasi replied, pulling the crumpled waiver form from her purse and handing it to the receptionist. I knew, just knew, from the way her hand tightened on me that she wanted nothing more than to yell at this woman, to scream at her, but she couldn't. Not here, not now. I squeezed her hand soothingly. The receptionist scanned the document with her beady eyes. "Can we go?" I yawned. She glared at me, before stamping the waiver and putting it on a rack. "Room 308." She muttered. "Traitor." "Much obliged," I said cheerfully, steering Stasi away before she could say anything else. "Suka," Stasi spat as we walked away out of earshot. "Watch your mouth," I teased. "Why does she think it's ok to say that?" Stasi asked in her accent, throwing up her arms. "I don't know, but don't worry. We'll be out of here soon. We'll just drop off the photo frame and leave." We navigated through the endless corridors, all the while consulting the multiple directories. We weren't bothered by anybody, considering that the hospital was empty save for a few workers, who barely gave us any notice. Finally, we found Room 308. The curtains were drawn, but the light was on inside the room. I tested the door, finding it unlocked. "Do you want to stay outside?" I asked, looking at Stasi. Her lip quivered and her face hardened. "Nyet," She decided. "I want to see him." I raised my hand to her cheek and pulled her in for a quick, passionate kiss that made the both of our toes curl. I pulled away, kissing her again on the nose. "In and out. I promise. Then, we can actually go get In-N-Out for breakfast." She smiled. Her face was tinged pink from the kiss and her sour mood was gone in the face of my presence. "Hamburgers and french fries for breakfast. We are truly American. I want a milkshake after this." "Of course you do," I laughed. "Your sweet tooth is out of control." She stuck out her tongue "You love it." "I do," I admitted, turning towards the wooden door, knocking on it softly before opening it. My eyes widened at what I saw. The young man was on the bed, wrapped head to toe in bandages, and his left arm and right leg in a sling. It looked like every bone had been broken or bruised. He was truly beaten to a complete pulp by the crowd of nonhumans. There were no charges or arrests made yet, as the majority had scattered once police came. It didn't hurt that no one was talking eith-... oh, sorry. That no one saw anything. He was connected to a variety of machines. An EKG monitor and IV line. I recognized both of them from my own stay at the hospital.The room, however, was chockful with the aroma of flowers and filled with gifts from what looked like DTOSA supporters. He looked up at me when we walked in, his eyes turning cold. Then, he turned back to the TV. "Hello," I said awkwardly, waving. He didn't reply. "I.. uh.." I continued, digging in my pocket. "I have your photo frame." He still remained silent. He was giving Stasi a run for her money when it came to awkwardness and stilted silences. Except, when Stasi did it, it was absolutely adorable and lovely. When this guy did it, he just made everything cold. I walked to his bedside. He still refused to look at me, watching the cartoons on the TV. I recognized it from the sounds. It was a rerun of a cartoon that I used to watch when I was a kid. Well, Stasi and I. Memories of us waking up extra early on Saturday mornings to go watch cartoons flooded through me. Time really has flown. Time is really flying this year. "Here it is," I said, placing the photo frame on his bedside table. His eyes flitted to it, then back to the TV. "Um..." I continued. "Was that, was that your family? Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners. I'm Chris. Chris Williams. That's Anna Sokolov, but you can call her-..." "Anastasia," She said stiffly. "Anastasia," I muttered. "Right, well... I mean, if that's all, I gue-.." "Put that down," He snapped, turning his eyes to Stasi. The EKG monitor immediately sped up, becoming rapid. Stasi dropped the card she was reading, startled. She had started to look through the many gifts that had accumulated. "You don't get to tell me what to do, suka!" She hissed angrily, before picking the card up and holding it up so everyone could see. The words were in children's handwriting, a blue sharpie. I HOP YOU KILL THE TRAITOR NEXT TIME!! - Johnny from Stockton He raised his hand towards the call nurse button on the side of his bed and I immediately held out my hands. "Woah, woah, woah. No need for that. Let's all calm down," I said quickly, before turning to look at Stasi. We had those many wordless conversations, a skill cultivated and learned through the bonds of our close friendship and love. It went something like this: Me: Please, I love you so, so, much. So much it hurts, but please, please, relax. Stasi: (Indecipherable Russian) Me: Please? Stasi: Fine! She huffed, putting her long wavy raven hair into a ponytail and folding her arms, turning away from the gifts to go look at the TV. Breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn't pressed the call nurse button yet, I set my hands on the bed frame. "What's your name?" He stared at me for a moment before speaking. "Dylan." "Dylan," I nodded. "I'm sorry this happened to you." He made a noise, turning away from me. "Is that your family in the picture?" I asked. "Was," Dylan said. Was? Oh. "I'm sorry," Stasi said briskly. "No," Dylan muttered. "No, you're not." "We are," I replied sympathetically as Stasi sniffed and turned back to the TV. "If there's anything that we can do, all you need to do is ask it." "You two can leave is what you can do," He snarled. Irritation and anger bubbled in the pit of my stomach... but, if that's he wanted."Alright then, we'll go." I said. "I hope you recover." "I hope you don't," He spat. I ignored the barb, turning on my heel and heading towards the door. "Let's go, Stasi." I said. "We'll grab something to eat before we go home." "Coming lyubov," Stasi replied. She crossed the room and grabbed hold of my hand, interlocking her fingers with mine and walking out with me. However, before she crossed the threshold, she stopped and turned around to face Dylan. "I have a question for you," She said angrily, her emotionally charged accent taking over. "I wonder what will happen to people like us when all this hate goes away. Will we be remembered in the eyes of our proud family or will we become irrelevant?" Dylan didn't answer. "Figures," She scoffed. "Where I'm from, when we're about to leave, we say 'do svidanya'. I would say it here, but since what it actually means is 'until we meet again' and because I never wish to meet you again, I simply say goodbye. Come on, Chris." Together, we walked out. Then, I held her in the car in the parking lot as she cried into my shoulder, distraught over what she read and saw. But you know, I think I saw Dylan crying too as we were leaving because Stasi's words rang true. When the chains of the DTOSA finally break away, who was going to be relevant and who was going to be irrelevant? I didn't know where we'd end up but I had a feeling that Dylan realized where he'd end up when the dust settled. Chapter 4: I loved Belcourt almost as much as I loved Stasi. I'd do anything for the school. There was nothing quite like it. The flames and cruelty of racism that have broken each and every one of the faculty and staff in their own way put something in common with everybody. Everyone was affected and it brought the students and staff together in a close bond, almost like family. Everyone knew each other and everyone watched out for each other. It was what oppressed people do. Yet, I had a love-hate relationship with the Belcourt rumor mill. On one half, there was some funny and interesting stuff, like who got with who and who broke up with who. Then, there was rumors that concerned me. That, I didn't like. Kind of funny how these double standards worked, huh? Elena gave me the rundown on Sunday. Half the rumors had me getting blasted to kingdom come with a twelve-gauge shotgun and the other half had me valiantly saving an entire preschool of nonhuman kids attending the parade from a would be assassin. I didn't have the heart to explain to anyone that I just got stepped on a few times. Ok, maybe not a few times. Maybe a lot of times. But still. "Hey, Chris. Hey, Annie. How are you both doing?" Ms. Casarano asked as I half staggered and half walked up to the front desk, helped by Stasi. Ms. Casarano's cat ears were raised in concern. She only seemed focused on me, not the abnormally large amount of students milling about trying to eavesdrop on us. "Great," Stasi chirped. "Hold on a sec, are you actually worried about me?" I asked cheekily. "No-... oh, hang on a second," Ms. Casarano said irritated. She stood up, gesturing to the double glass doors to the quad and shouting to all the students milling about in the lobby. "If you're not here for business or to buy prom tickets, I need everyone to leave and stop crowding the place. Thank you!" Grumbling, all of the students filed out, giving Stasi and I strange looks on their way to the double doors. They weren't even being subtle about it. They were actively gawking, pointing, and whispering. When they were all finally out and headed to class, Stasi and I sighed in relief. The lobby suddenly felt much more easier to breath in. "Well, now that that's out of the way," Ms. Casarano began, sitting down and looking up at us. "No, as a matter of fact, I wasn't actually worried about you. I was worried about how much work I'd have to be doing if you didn't come to school because you were resting. We're partners up here in the front desk, remember? You have to put in your half of the work." I grinned when I heard Stasi snort next to me. "That's more like it," I said. If Ms. Casarano didn't have any snippy remarks for me, it just wouldn't feel right at all. I was used to her witty sarcasm and sharp tongue. Ms. Casarano smiled softly at us, before resting her chin on her hand. "How are you two actually feeling?" She asked concerned. "Sore," I replied. "That's a given." Ms. Casarano noted. "And a bit nervous about college." Stasi added. "Decisions come out later this month." "That's another given. Hey, I'm sure you'll be fine," Ms. Casarano said warmly. She turned her eyes on me, her cat ears flopping. "You'll both be. I know it. My aunt was a fortune teller. She gave me the sixth sense. What college was it? UC Irvine?" "LA," Stasi said. The corners of her lips turned up in a knowing feline smile. "You're both in for a big surprise then," She said, before directing her attention to me. "Now, there actually was something that I did want to bring up with you. I cc'd an e-mail to you about that meeting in front of the school board. Principal Finch wants to meet with you about it." "Sure," I said. "What's the meeting about?" Her smile faded. "Principal Finch got word that a school board member brought up something at the most recent board meeting. He wants to limit Belcourt High School werewolves transforming because of public safety," She said. "You might have to talk at the monthly Superintendent board meeting on behalf of the school." The corners of my lips tightened. Another stupid rule implemented by the DTOSA. Whoever wanted this to happen was a complete idiot. Werewolves needed to transform. They needed to let their inner animal out and roam free every now and then. It was as necessary as Stasi's feeding. To not let them be themselves would have catastrophic effects. Well, one catastrophic effect. 'UTs', unauthorized transformations. Unauthorized transformations were spontaneous transformations into animal form. They were dangerous because in an unauthorized transformation state, they wouldn't be able to control themselves. They would become completely feral. I'm pretty sure that's how the DTOSA came about, really. A few mistakes from a few individuals screwed it up for the vast majority. "I got it," I replied. "I'll make sure to work on it as soon as I can. Is there anything else?" "Yes, a few clubs want to meet with you regarding ASB Funding." "I can handle that," Stasi said quickly. "No, we can handle it." I corrected. "No, I can," Stasi insisted. She locked her icy blue eyes on me in a glare. I knew what they meant. They told me to take it easy... or else. "One of you just handle it. The dryads at the Environmental Club are getting antsy over their tree thing for the fourth quarter. But, in regards to Principal Finch's email... do not tell anybody about this," Ms. Casarano warned. "You two and only some of the administration are the only ones who know about this. Do not let anyone else know or else we'll have a huge problem on our hands." "We won't." I promised. "Anything else you need, Ms. Casarano?" "No, that's about it. Don't tell anybody." "Right, let's go, Stasi." "Coming. Bye, Ms. Casarano!" Stasi waved. We both walked out towards the quad. We were already out and the door had nearly closed when I heard Ms. Casarano reply, her voice vibrating through the empty lobby. "Goodbye, you two." We walked out hand-in-hand through the empty quad. Many of the students had already begun walking to class, intent on beating the bell. Stasi and I were among them, walking at a fast pace. We didn't really have to. We were on such good terms with Mr. Coppergut, that even if we slid into his class halfway through one of his energetic lectures, he wouldn't mark us tardy. It was one of the benefits of being the coveted "printing-pass holder". "You're going to be there, right?" I asked out of the blue. "Be where?" "At the Board Meeting. As the Vice President." "Of course, dummy!" She said, squeezing my hand. "I have your back, no matter what. We can go over the contentions you want to bring up and write the first drafts. My v etom vmeste." "Oh, kak ya lyublyu tebya.." "I love you too, Chris." Stasi replied, a pink hue rising on her pale cheeks. She leaned in and pecked me on the lips. "Now come on. We'll be late for class." We both hurried through the quad towards Mr. Coppergut's AP Statistics class. Even though we were technically his 'favorites', we didn't want to be late. Thankfully, we managed to slip in just as the bell rang, making our way to our seats with our heads lowered. "Christopher, Anastasia!" Mr. Coppergut called from his desk. He looked like a small child in such a big and plush chair. I was actually kind of jealous at the way he was swinging his legs like a care-free toddler. "It's good to see you two." "Thank you, Mr. Coppergut," Stasi said in her smooth accent. "It's good to see you too." "You both had an exciting weekend. Christopher, still kicking, I see?" "Yes, sir." I replied amidst the chuckling. "Excellent." Mr. Coppergut looked at me proudly, before hopping off the chair to walk to his podium. His beard was getting a bit long, just long enough to stroke it. "Now, class, as you know, the year is winding down. There is very little for me to teach. From this point on, we'll begin our studying for the AP-.." The entire class groaned. "-Test. Yes, the AP Test. Don't let prom distract you from the fact that we have an AP Test!" While Mr. Coppergut began his lecture, I felt a cold hand slip into mind, squeezing my fingers. I turned to look at Stasi, her crystal blue eyes enraptured with Mr. Coppergut. She wasn't even paying any attention to me, although her lips were turned up in a soft smile. It was almost as if everything was the same. Everything was still the same. Well, after AP Statistics ended and our day continued, I realized that nothing was at all the same. ****** The bell rang, announcing that lunch had commenced. I finished up the last few remarks on my essay before I stowed it away, beginning to pack up. I had already decided that I wasn't completely mentally here and was going to finish it at home or at lunch. I was already anticipating seeing Stasi and wondering what we were going to do for lunch until Mr. Zasor said something that made my heart leap into my throat. "Alright everybody, please place your case briefings on my desk on the way out," He said, drumming his pawed fingers on his desk. I swore silently, causing Lucy to look at me in confusion. Slowly, recognition dawned on all eight on her eyes and she looked at me sympathetically. I had started the case briefing with plans to do it on the weekend, but I hadn't touched any of my homework because I was recuperating. That and Stasi wouldn't let me get out of bed. "What do I do?" I mouthed at her. Lucy shrugged, taking the pristine case folder out of her backpack. Envy bubbled in my stomach as I watched her skitter up to Mr. Zasor's desk and place it on the growing pile, all the while having Mr. Zasor looking at her with something that was akin to pride. Lucy looked back at me apologetically, gesturing that she'd wait outside before walking out with the rest of the class. And leaving me trapped in Law and Society with the Monster. "Christopher," Mr. Zasor asked, peering at me from the brim of his glasses. "What are you doing still in my classroom?" "I... I... I uh..." I stuttered. I had never missed an assignment in a long time. I went through hell and high water to make sure my grades were great or at least better than Stasi's so I could get bragging rights. But, since Stasi always managed to get the better of me, I just settled for being great. "I don't have it, sir." I muttered, defeated. "Pardon?" Mr. Zasor asked smugly. "I don't think I heard you." "I don't have it, sir." I said louder, knowing damn well that he heard me the first time. Irritation was building up inside me, assisted by anger at my own stupidity for doing nothing all weekend. "Have what, Christopher?" "My case briefing," I mumbled, looking at the floor in defeat. "Your case briefing," Mr. Zasor said. "You do know that projects are worth sixty percent of your grade, don't you?" "Yes, sir." I said. "Were you... perhaps... sick, this weekend?" Mr. Zasor asked. "No, sir." I said. "Did you have a family emergency?" "No, sir." "Do you have an excuse at all?" "No, sir." Mr. Zasor stared at me, his eyes boring into the depths of my soul. His clawed paw continued to drum at his desk, the sound of his nails tapping the wood sounding like a herd of thundering horses. In seconds though, his steely gaze softened. "You have one more day," He told me. "I'm-... I'm sorry?" "You have one more day," He repeated. "To turn it in?" I asked dumbly. "To turn it in," He confirmed. "But... but..." "Don't ask why, Christopher. Just know that you of all people deserve a break," He said. "You're an excellent student with a great work ethic. I know in any other situation that case briefing would be on my desk. After this tumultuous weekend, you deserve to have some good stuff happen to you. But, if it's anything short of A-material, I'm going to give it a zero." "Oh, thank you! Thank you, sir!" "Don't thank me," Mr. Zasor held up his paw. "Go to lunch before I change my mind." "Yes, sir." I said, picking up my backpack and doing my best not to dance my way out of his class. "Feel better, Chris," Mr. Zasor said softly as I left the classroom, closing the door behind me and exiting out into the hallway. It was empty, save for Lucy. She was tapping her feet nervously, waiting for me. Everyone must've gone to the quad to bask in the March weather. "How'd it go?" She asked. "Did he rip you a new one?" "Surprisingly," I grinned triumphantly. "No, he didn't." "He didn't?!" Lucy gasped. "What?" "Yeah, he let me have an extension. Well, he let me stew in my own self-pity and despair for about a minute before he really let me go." "Oh my god," Lucy said, holding her binder to her chest. "You are so lucky." "It balances out," I muttered. "Come on, let's head to the quad. Stasi's waiting." We both began to walk towards the exit, intent on squeezing as much free time out of lunch as we could. I was in a hurry. My heart was literally longing to see Stasi. "You know," Lucy piped up. "I'm not surprised that he gave you an extension." "You aren't?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. "It's Mr. Zasor." "Yeah, I know it's Mr. Zasor. I'm just not surprised that you're getting an extension." "Why? We all know he's the hardest teacher at Belcourt." I held open the door for Lucy. "Thanks," She skittered out into the quad. "Right, as I was saying. I'm not surprised he gave you an extension. He was probably happy to see yo-.. Quiet. Don't say anything!" She warned, holding up a finger. "Everyone here is happy to see you today. It's a morale booster." "It's not a morale booster," I retorted. "I'm just going to school." "Well, maybe not a real morale booster, but everyone's glad to see you at school. You're the face of Belcourt and everyone here loves you." "No, they do-.." "Hey, Chris!" A sophomore greeted, waving madly. "Yo, Ian!" I called back. Ian the sophomore practically swelled up in excitement when I called him by his name in front of his friends. Truth be told, I was terrible at remembering names. Even though I made the effort to really know people's names, I sucked at it without Stasi. She had an extremely good memory. "See?" Lucy asked triumphantly. "What?" I argued, absolutely baffled. "I'm just saying hi." She rolled her eyes, all eight of them. "Whatever," She said, throwing up her arms in frustration. We both walked over to our table out in the quad. The weather was nice. There was a fair amount of overcast, but I had decided long ago that I loved it that way. When I finally caught sight of raven hair pulled back in an austere ponytail, I felt my heart do a flip in joy. "Hey, Stasi." I greeted. She turned to me, her face brightening like the sun and taking my breath away. "Hi, zaichik." She replied, her beautiful, melodious, accented voice being music to my ears. Everybody at the table cheered. "About time you showed up," Jazz snorted. "She was completely out of it ever since lunch started. Every time I tried to talk to her, she'd just nod her head absent-mindedly and look around for you." "Sorry," I apologized, not sure to whom. I swooped down low and gave Stasi a peck on the lips, absolving myself of whatever sins I had accumulated. "Mr. Zasor was holding me up." "Ne bespokoysya." Stasi said, waving off my apology and patting my cheek affectionately. "I just missed you, is all." "I missed you, too. I love you." "I love yo-.." Stasi began happily. "Oh, that reminds me!" Lucy interjected. "Annie, I have something to ask you." "-too." Stasi finished. She turned to Lucy, slightly irked. "Yes, Lucy?" "Do you think that everyone at school loves Chris?" "Of course," Stasi replied instantly. "Maybe not as much as I love him but the whole school loves him, for sure." "Oh come on," I complained. "Are you really going to keep on asking this?" "Yes," Lucy laughed. "Until you get it." "Why? What happened?" Stasi asked, curling her fingers around my hand and squeezing. "Well, Mr. Zasor here, gave Chris an extension for his Case Briefing, even though I busted my web working on it this weekend." Stasi gasped dramatically. "He didn't." "He did," Lucy cried. Suddenly, not for the first time this year, I felt like the odd man out. Of course, I was with my best friends and the woman I loved, but I felt as if I was infringing on them. Jazz and Ricky were talking to each other, along with the subtle touching that lasted a fraction of a second too long and Lucy and Stasi chatter amongst each other. On a whim, I let go of Stasi's hand, standing up. She broke off in mid conversation, looking at me strangely. "Where are you going?" She asked. "I need to take care of something," I explained. "I won't be long, I promise." "Are you sure? I can come with you if you want," "No," I replied. "Enjoy your lunch. I'll be right back." Conflict raged in her crystal blue eyes, which I quickly washed away with a quick kiss. The corner of her mouth turned up in a soft smile. "Hurry back." She told me. "I will," I replied, giving her a second kiss on the forehead. "Love you." "Love you, too." She said, turning back to talk to Lucy. I could tell she was distracted that I was leaving her and in truth, I was distracted too. I never ever wanted to be away from her ever. It was only when I was with her that I was truly happy. As I stood up and started walking back in the direction of the classrooms, it felt like someone was twisting a knife in my heart. I immediately wanted to turn around and sprint back into her embrace. But I continued to walk. Aimlessly, in fact. I nodded at classmates, waved at teachers, smiled at people, but just kept walking, not stopping for conversations. It was as if the classrooms was a magnet and I was a piece of metal. I was just drawn to it. I strolled into the classroom building, getting hit by a blast of recirculated and conditioned air; a heavy contrast to the sharp and crisp Bay Area atmosphere. I continued to walk to nowhere in particular, my footsteps sounding off the hard floor. My eyes darted from right to left, looking into the windows of the classrooms. Most of them were emptied and dark, their teachers and occupants all heading out to lunch. I was just about to head back out to lunch myself, but one classroom caught my eye. It was the photography lab. Normally, it was blocked off from any light so it wouldn't damage the film, but the light was still on inside and there was a single student inside. She was perched at the front of the class on a stool, browsing her phone. It was Elena. I peered into the lab. It wasn't uncommon for a cool teacher to let their favorite students hang out in their classroom during lunch. Although it was frowned upon by administration, there was an unspoken agreement between the students and faculty. As long as the students did not deliberately mess anything up, they saw no reason to infringe on their rights. It was still bizarre that Elena was the only one in the lab. I tapped on the window rapidly. Elena looked up at me, her glum face brightening as soon as she laid her eyes on me. She pulled out her white earbuds and hopped off the stool, practically skipping to the door and pulling it open. "Hey, Chris." She said breathlessly. "Hey, Elena." I greeted. I peered over her. "What are you up to?" "Studying," She replied, turning around and heading back to her seat. "Come on in." "Thanks," I said, taking her invitation into the lab. "Nice place." "Thanks," She said, plopping herself back down on her stool. "What are you doing in the classroom building?" "Walking around," I answered. "Oh, interesting." Elena said awkwardly. "Hey, have you gotten Annie's birthday present yet?" "Of course," I said. "I had it ready since February. The guy that worked on it said it was so bad that he needed a crapton of time to work on it." "I'm surprised she hasn't noticed it was missing from the basement yet," Elena giggled. "Yeah," My voice trailed off as I looked around the lab. "Where is everybody?" I asked. "What do you mean?" "Well, I mean... are you in here alone?" She nodded her head, her austere, blonde ponytail bobbing up and down behind her. "Yup," She said morosely. My eyes widened in surprise and bewilderment. To my knowledge, Elena Sokolov was a social butterfly. She could make friends with anybody. In fact, she was the anomaly in her family. Whereas both Stasi and Viktor were more quiet, introverted, and level-headed, Elena was the most outgoing person I knew by a mile (and I was friends with Ricky!) Why she wasn't hosting a party in here was absolutely beyond me. "Why?" I asked. "Do you want the lie or the honest answer?" She mumbled sadly. "Of course I want the honest answer." I retorted. "I had nowhere to sit," She explained, her shoulders sagging. "What?" "I had nowhere to sit," She repeated. "Nobody likes me." "What are you talking about?" I asked, my confusion being replaced with slight anger. "Everyone loves you." She shook her head again sadly. "Not even close. Everyone thinks Ii'm annoying." She said, then quickly adding, "I overheard my friends talking about me behind my back a few weeks ago. I used to eat in the hallways during lunch but Dr. Akula let me use her lab." My nostrils flared. "You realize your friends are going to die, right?" A soft smile spread across her face, revealing her fangs for the first time. "I don't think Annie wants you to be sent to Alcatraz Island." I sighed dramatically, looking at the floor. "I guess Ii'll have to hold off, then." I looked up back at her. "Elena...?" "Yeah, Chris?" When I made contact with her green eyes, my heart broke. If you take eyes those away, turn them into a crystal blue and change her blonde hair to a raven, she resembled Stasi. Very much in fact. It was uncanny. Not only did she resemble her in appearance, but in predicament as well. Growing up with only one friend was a daunting task, but Stasi and I did that together. Growing up without any friends at all... to me, that was unbearable. "You're loved, y'know. By everyone. I love you, your sister loves you. Your brother, my friends, our family. Everyone loves you. You're awesome." Her soft smile grew wider. "Thanks, Chris. It means alot to me." Silence overtook us before I decided to speak. "So, is it entertaining in the lab?" Elena shrugged. "A bit. I help out Dr. Akula. Since it's Belcourt's first year, she doesn't have a lab tech, so I kinda fit into that role. I get to help develop the film and sometimes she lets me borrow the cameras. It's fun. Photography is fun." "You can always eat lunch with us!" I exclaimed. "With you guys?" Elena asked shocked. "Yeah, with us. Me, Stasi, Ricky, Lucy, Jazz, and sometimes Viktor and Abby." "I'm fine. I'm the underclassmen. I'm not cool enough to eat lunch with all the seniors and juniors. I'd just cramp your style." Elena said sadly. "My style?" I asked. "Did you not see my closet? You're the reason I even have any style." "I'm sure Annie had a part." She giggled. "You had a bigger one. Come on, you can eat lunch with us. Once your 'friends' see you eating lunch with us, they'll be begging you to take them back. Then, you can give them the finger." She gave me a watery smile. "You sure I can eat lunch with you? Annie won't mind and everything?" "Absolutely not," I declared. "Alright then," She said, brightening considerably. "You're the best big brother from another mother ever." "Yeah, I know," I chuckled. "Come here and give me a hug, little squirt." She hopped off her chair with a cry and ran to me, nearly tackling me in a hug. Even though my chest flared up in a huge amount of pain, I didn't care. I wrapped my arms around her cold, lithe body and hugged her tightly to me. "Chris?" She asked, her voice muffled against my chest. "Yeah, Elena?" "I'm glad it was you who Annie chose to play legos with on that day." "Yeah," I whispered back. "I'm glad it was her too, because it gave me you. My very own vampire little sister. " She made a noise, shuddering out a cry and hugged me tighter. We stayed there for another minute before we finally broke the hug so Elena could pack her things and together, we headed back out into the quad to my lunch table. No, not my lunch table. It was our lunch table now. ****** "So, let me get this straight," Stasi said. We were walking through the empty halls, hand-in-hand with each other. "She was eating lunch in Dr. Akula' lab this entire time? Vse v odinochku?" "All by herself," I confirmed. "Poor thing," Stasi sighed, before giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, lyubov. It was nice of you to tell her she could always eat lunch with us. I know it means alot to her. Even though I think she's an occasional nepriyatnost sometimes, she's a joy to be around." "Yeah, well... you know, she kind of reminded me of us and how we used to hide in one of those unused classrooms during recess and lunch in middle school because everyone hated us back then." "Those were the days," Stasi replied, before looking at me with a wide fangy smile. "Look how far we've gone now." "I know. It's been a long ride, hasn't it?" I said, stopping at our pair of lockers and pulling her close to me for a soft kiss on her cold lips. "I love you, you know." "I know. I love you too," She said brightly before turning to her locker to work on her combination. "It's definitely been one bezumnyy ride. I wouldn't change a single thing, though." "Neither would I," I muttered, concentrating on my lock. Since Belcourt was a refurbished and disused school, there were some flaws deep beneath the excellent architecture. For one, the lockers were complete ass. The lockers were prone to stick and completely throw you off. I managed to somehow luck out and get the only functioning locker in the entire school. "Are we still on for this Saturday?" "Of course, zaichik." Stasi grunted back. "We're bringing Lucy to prom whether she likes it or-... BLYAT!" "What?" I asked, peering at her from around my locker door. She rounded on me, her pale, beautiful face reddened in frustration and fire raging in her crystal blue eyes. "My locker," She sputtered angrily. "It... Chris, it no work!" "It doesn't work," I corrected, trying not to laugh at her adorable-ness. That'd only make her more mad. "Here, let me." Stasi huffed angrily, stepping aside so I could work on her lock. I didn't blame her for her frustration. It was always acting up like a badly parented child. It got so bad, as a matter of fact, that Stasi often stuffed her most important textbooks in my locker so she wasn't late to class. After a few delicate twists, the lock clicked, popping free. "How..?" Stasi cried. "Sometimes, a little finesse is all you need instead of brute force," I said. "That sounds an awful lot like us in bed," She giggled, before pecking me on the lips, leaving the both of us blushing. "Spasibo, lyubov. I hate my locker so much sometimes." "No worries," I replied, looking back into my locker. It was still as cluttered as ever. Of course, under Stasi's insistence, I always tried to clean it every once in awhile, but it only managed to get unorganized again. I began sifting through the organized mess, taking my books for my next class until something came fluttering out. A folded sticky note. Chapter 5: "So, how does this work?" I asked. "Fairly simple," Kirby replied, stowing away boxes of expensive-looking fabrics underneath display tables. I looked at Stasi, she looked at me. "How..." She asked. "How simple?" "Very simple, in fact. You both remember how simple it was when I kitted you two out for the Coven Ball." Kirby closed the glass display case, the lock clicking. He turned to us, smoothing down his cashmere shirt before holding his hands out in front of him. "Alright, now that that is out of the way, we can begin. Who's up first?" "Uh, well.." I stammered. "It's not for us." Stasi explained in her accent. "It's for someone else." "Ah, someone else," Kirby nodded his head. "Ms. Elena, perhaps? Is she here at the Mall now? Poor thing, must've lost her mind cooped up in here." "No, it's for a friend," I said. "She's unable to..." I couldn't finish. "Afford," Stasi suggested sheepishly. "Afford," I said. "She's unable to afford prom, but we know that she wants to attend, so we're helping her along the way." "Commendable," Kirby praised. "So, I assume you two will be financing the dress?" We both nodded furiously. Kirby's smile, if possible, got wider. "Excellent! Although, I will have you know, Belcourt High School students get a considerable discount here at Kirby's for social events. Nevertheless, we will make this a dress that will outshine every dress at Prom... except yours, Ms. Sokolov. I will make sure that you and Mr. Williams are the most best dressed. Now, I will require her dimensions. I assume she is close to your height and weight, Ms. Sokolov?" "Uh, no." Stasi gestured to me. "She's-.." "She's closer to my height," I said. "She's actually taller." Kirby looked up at me. He was already kind of short so I towered over him. The smiler on his face grew wider, revealing just the tiny hint of fangs. "A tall and large girl! Yes, we will have some fun, indeed! I believe I have a few mannequins in the bac-.." "She's not going to be like the mannequins," I interrupted quickly. "At least the mannequins you have... I think." "Oh?" Kirby asked. "Try me, Mr. Williams." "She's an arachne," Stasi said cordially. "An arache, you say?" Kirby's mouth dropped open before it morphed again into a huge smile. I knew that smile. It was plastered on my face every time I saw a challenge. A challenge I wanted nothing more than to beat. "Then why didn't you say so, Anastasia? You know my establishment caters to men and women of all species and body types." "I actually didn't know that," Stasi confessed. "Well, you do now," Kirby said with a flourish. He disappeared to the back of his chic fashion store, his black chukkas clacking off the marble floor. Soon enough, he came back, wheeling a mannequin. Except, it wasn't any normal mannequin. It was a wooden, adjustable, naked mannequin, fashioned with a giant plastic carapace in the back and eight legs. It was an adjustable mannequin of an arachne. I was absolutely bewildered. "Close your mouth," Stasi giggled, gently punching me on the arm. "You'll catch bugs." "It's actually flies, but I'm just-..." "Surprised?" Kirby asked. "Fashion is not just limited to those with two legs. Fashion is art and anything can be the canvas. Any man, woman, or species can be the canvas. You of all people must know that, Anna. But, I must say, in all my years, I have never been able to paint my art on an arachne. A quiet and unassuming bunch, they are, never having the time to run into my little boutique. Yes, your friend will be the first arache I have worked with." The mannequin was wheeled to a stop and Kirby looked at me with a sharp eye, before bustling around the display, adjusting it, yanking at straps, and clicking at locks. Stasi and I could only watch, bewildered, as Kirby began to create a replica of Lucy with little consultation from us. All he got from us were mute nods and shakes of the head. Finally, when all was said and done, he stepped back from the mannequin, holding out his hands. "And..." He began dramatically. "Voila!" "Where's the dress?" I asked dumbly before Stasi elbowed me in the stomach. "Ow!" "Zatknis." She scolded. "The dress," Kirby said, slightly irked that I interrupted him. "Comes later. As you know, all my clothing here at Kirby's is tailored and custom made to the correct... proportions. As we currently do not have Ms.-..." His voice trailed off. "Lucy, Lucy Bohannan" "Lucy, yes. As we do not have Ms. Lucy here, we have to estimate the measurements first before we actually do anything. Ms. Sokolov, will you be doing the designing?" Stasi shook her head. "I'll give you the artistic license for that," "Excellent!" Kirby replied, his face lighting up. "What about funding?" I asked. Kirby looked up at the mannequin, a faraway look in his eyes. Then, he turned to me. "No funding. The dress will be complimentary." Stasi and I both started spluttering a reply, but Kirby simply held up a hand. "As you both know, I thrive off of repeat business. This small shop simply can't hold up to the daily flow of customers that flock to the more established human retailers. But, unlike them, I have something they do not. Pride. I take pride in my work, delivering clothes to the ones that everyone deems inferior. He patted the mannequin on its large, bulbous carapace. "In all my years, I have never been able to make a dress for an arachne," He continued. "That will be your payment to me. Allowing me to make something that will generate memories to last a lifetime; for her and for me. When is the prom?" "One month," Stasi said. "April twenty eighth." "And seeing that today is March fifteenth... it'll be ready in three weeks time," Kirby said. "Great," Stasi said. "Will that be all?" "Ah, yes, I believe so. However, will the two of you be stopping by in the future to try out your own prom dress and tuxedo?" "I... er..." I looked at Stasi. We actually hadn't talked about it. We were just so busy between school, anticipating college decision letters, and life, that we never discussed prom. Hell, I didn't even know if we were even going. "We'll see in the coming days," Stasi said. She politely bowed her head. "Thank you, Kirby." "And you, Ms. Sokolov, Mr. Williams. Thank you for giving me the pleasure and joy of making such an amazing fashion piece for this young arachne." We said our goodbyes and departed from his shop, heading back to the parking garage hand-in-hand. We didn't say much, simply enjoying the presence of each other. I liked it when it was like that. It was just pure loving contentment. Her being next to me was all I really needed. "Make sure you get sleep tonight," Stasi said, looking at me. "Oh, that's right. Sacramento tomorrow." I groaned. "Yes, Sacramento," Stasi said absentmindedly. She twirled and played with a few strands of her raven hair. "You know, if you want, we don't have to go." "I do want to go," I said. "Don't you?" "Well, I mean..." Stasi sighed. "Nevermind Forget it." "No, tell me." I insisted, slowing down until we came to a stop. "It's nothing," Stasi lied. "No, it's not. Come on, we tell each other everything, remember? We're best friends." "You're right," Stasi sighed, looking around to make sure no one was in earshot. We were at the edge of the Mall and it was already as dead as ever. Satisfied that there were no eavesdroppers, she turned back to me, her crystal blue eyes taking on a hue of vulnerability. "I'm just scared that all this involvement with the Coven is going to get you hurt. Ili khuzhe." "Hurt?" I asked confused. "Zaichik, you know I'm right. I don't know why you have to do this and not anybody else. Just seeing you in that hospital bed. Not once, but twice." She took a deep breath, before looking up with a sudden passion. "You don't have to do this, Chris. Why can't you let someone else do all this? Why can't you be selfish for once?" "What do you want to do?" I smiled weakly. "Run off into the sunset with you on the back of a centaur?" We actually couldn't do that. Riding on the back of a centaur was considered an affront to the species. It was an insult to them. I learned that at Belcourt when I asked a sophomore centaur if I could ride on his back onto the football field. He nearly kicked me in anger. "Why not? We can just drop everything. Go home, live our lives, maybe go to a different country when we graduate. We don't even have to go to college! Your Russian is really good. We'd fit right in Russia where nobody would ever bother us." "Stasi," I interjected, softly placing my hands on her shoulders. "I just don't want to see you hurt," She said, her eyes brimming with tears. "I want to live a private life with you. I want to be normal with you. I want to be-..." Human. With me. Humans lived such a carefree life, didn't they? Except, they didn't. Their lives are as endlessly complex as anyone else. No one was different. Everyone was the same. "I won't be hurt," I replied. "No more." "How can you be so sure?" She asked, placing her cold hands on my cheek. "Kak vy mozhete byt' uvereny? "Because I have you by my side," I replied. "I ty vsegda budesh' sledit' za moyey spinoy." Stasi's shoulders immediately sagged, all inkling of passion and fight escaping from her body with my words. I was right though. Everything I did was because of her. No matter her age and species, she constantly demonstrated a strength and loyalty that belied her age and made me want to follow. I did what I did because I had her to lean on and watch my back. From this Coven business, to putting on my pads for the first time, to getting over my fear of heights... She had my back this whole time. "Okay," She whispered. "Okay. We'll go to Sacramento with papa tomorrow and see where it takes us." "Alright," I replied, before kissing her on the nose. "Hey," "Hmm?" "I love you, you know." "I know, zaichik. I love you too. Always have-..." "Always will," I replied, my heart soaring when I saw her smiling again. "Now come on, I can't promise you a ride on the back of a centaur, but you can ride on the back of your very own zaichik." "I'm too old for piggy ba-.. CHRIS!" She yelped, as I picked her up over my shoulder and started carrying her to the parking lot like a fireman. "Christopher Robert Williams, you put me down right thi-... oh my gosh, I'm so tall. I can see everything!" ****** "Is it supposed to be this empty?" I whispered into Anton's ear. Anton looked at me before scanning around the chambers. The chamber was opulent and massive. The walls were made of dark stone, lit by the chandelier from above. Desks surrounded a high table in a U-shape. The only thing missing were the people. Only half the desks were occupied by shadowy figures, talking in low voices. Anton shook his head. "Nyet. But it'll fill up. The Iron Front Bloc always shows up late." He nearly spat out the word Iron Front. I scanned my memories, suddenly remembering that the Iron Front Bloc was one of the parties in the Coven. Stasi drilled everything into me the night before. All the important names, factions, and terms. The Coven was just like a Congress, except rather than having the two main parties, Conservative and Liberal, they were made up of many smaller parties. These parties all made up the actual Coven, much like a European Parliament. The actual Coven had little influence in 'actual' politics. The Coven was actually a party. It was considered a third party in American politics, similar to the Green or Libertarian Parties. Except, it was one of the largest third parties, solely dedicated to representing nonhumans. The definitions were really loose and it hurt my mind to really decipher it. Back to my main point. The Iron Front was the second largest bloc in the Coven, only seconded by a sizeable amount of members to the Tarasenko Bloc. It was headed by the much respected/much hated werewolf Nicholas McCarthy. Depending on who you asked, you could say he was a courageous advocate for the rights of nonhumans or you could say he preached racism and violence. Regardless, history was going to remember him for a long time. Both Anton and I looked up as someone sat down at the desk next to me, brushing their hair back. "Sorry Ii'm late, papa, zaichik. I got caught up." Stasi apologized. "It's fine." Anton replied, proudly. "I'm glad that you are both here." "Spasibo, papa. Lyubov." Stasi said, giving me a quick kiss and grinning at me, her fangs accentuating her smile. She undid her scarf, setting it down on her desk. Well... her temporary desk. Anton was somehow able to persuade two members of the Tarasenko Bloc to give up their seats for us. I don't know how. I was pretty territorial myself when it came to my seats. Whenever someone tried to take my seat next to Stasi in class, I usually saw red. "Hey, Stasi." I replied. She looked beautiful in her suit, commissioned by Kirby. A black business suit jacket, white blouse, and black skirt. "You look amazing." Her cheeks tinged pink and I felt Anton look at me from the corner of his eye. "Thanks, lyubov." Her eyes roved all around the chambers. "Where is everybody?" "They show up late, apparently." Just as soon as the words left my mouth, the doors to the chambers opened. "I stand corrected." As the Iron Front Bloc entered the chambers as a single unit, everyone else caused a ruckus, jeering and screaming as they took their seats. Stasi and I raised our eyebrows, looking at each other confused. "This is normal." Anton said, a small smile lighting up his features. He patted me on the arm. "Very normal." "Really?" I asked. "I would've thought politics were more..." "Formal? Polite?" Stasi suggested, smiling at me. "Quiet." I finished. As soon as the Iron Front took to their seats, the doors to the massive chambers closed and Vasili, who was sitting at the head of the chambers, stood up. I was surprised to see him. The last I remembered, he was sent to Washington D.C. by orders of the Royal Family. He looked at the portly woman to his left, nodding. "Now that all are present," He said, disdain creeping into his voice. "Let us begin. Is the Coven Clerk ready?" "Yes, sir." My eyes flicked across the Chambers to a young man, not much older than myself. He looked to be some kind of intern, an ancient computer in front of him. It wasn't like Stasi's fast laptop. It was a box that looked like it was ripped straight out of 2005. I jumped in my chair as I felt a cool hand shocking mines, relaxing when I realized it was just Stasi clutching onto my hand. "I love you." She whispered. "I love you, too." I whispered back. "Very well," Vasili said. "The two thousandth, three hundred, and eighty eighth meeting of the Coven of this city of San Francisco, is called to order. The political agenda of this meeting, to discuss and put forth a plan to improve the relations between other species and the human race and dissuade Governor Brian Lawson to pass the Werewolf Tracking Act." He banged the gavel. "May I remind the Coven in attendance that we have two guests, approved by the Royal Family, in attendance. One Christopher Will-..." The Coven exploded into applause, jumping to their feet and screaming. I wanted to melt into the floor, but Stasi's hand kept me grounded to reality. "-iams and one Anastasia Sokolov." Vasili finished, smiling and nodding at the both of us from his spot. "Let it be known by the Clerk that they are endorsed by the Tarasenko Bloc." "It is so known." The Clerk replied, under a chorus of boo's from the Iron Front. "Stooge!" A man cried loudly. "Shut it, Vernon." A woman retorted from one of the smaller parties. "I believe we have a speaker who wishes to put forward a plan?" Vasili asked, flipping through his memorandum. Anton's chair squeaked next to me as he stood up, a perfectly calm expression on his face. Intimidation crackled from him like electricity. "Indeed, Elder Tarasenko." Anton boomed, in his accent. "The Coven recognizes Anton Sokolov, from the Tarasenko Bloc." "Let it so be recognized." The Clerk replied. Anton was a popular figure in the Coven and it showed when everyone turned around to look at him. Well, they looked at him for a moment, then looked at Stasi and I. I could understand why they looked at Stasi. She was beautiful. I don't know why they looked at me. I kept my eyes trained on Anton, trying to look as unassuming as I possibly could. "The culmination of our Civil Rights movement is at hand. It is in full swing. In this day and age," Anton began, smoothly. "Young adults are as effective as guns and soldiers. Rather than bring forth death and destruction, they bring forth knowledge and awareness. Ladies and gentlemen, what we have here," He placed his hand on my shoulder, making me jump. A chorus of murmurs and chuckling echoed through the chambers. There goes my attempt to be unassuming. "Is an asset. An avid athlete and an academic. An extremely positive role model." "What we propose here is for these two young and intelligent young adults to meet with Governor Law-..." Anton said, before getting cut off. "How?!" A voice interjected. "Governor Lawson's Office refuses to meet with members of the Coven. Do you not remember, Anton?" "If you will please allow me to explain!" Anton said loudly, silencing another outbreak of muttering from the rest of the Coven. "Governor Lawson refuses to meet with members of the Coven, yes. These two are not members of the Coven at all! In fact, it is Christopher here who has already met the Governor." "Any disagreements?" Vasili asked. "Aye!" A voice from the far side of the room rang. "The Coven recognizes Nicholas McCarthy of the Iron Front Bloc." "Let it so be recognized." The Clerk replied. He probably found this mind numbingly boring. Nicholas stood up and I finally got a look as to who he was. He was young and square-jawed. Not as tall and imposing as Anton, but still radiating power and influence. "Anton," He began. "While your efforts to make this as rosy as possible is commendable, what makes you think the Governor Lawson will even agree to this? Meeting with children to discuss politics? That sounds asinine on both parts, the dreamer and the enactor!" "Well," Anton began. "It is simply a proposal-" "Exactly that!" Nicholas interrupted. "A proposal. Why should we even propose to acquiesce to humans? To try and show that they're equal with us? We already know that it's the humans that are the black, oppressive, stain on this world." Stasi squeezed my hand, ending my anger before it began. "Anton, you are a stooge, a chump of the human establishment. You attempt to appease them, to show that we mean no harm. Well, if they think of us as dangerous, I think that the Iron Front should give them dangerous!" A loud cheer came from their side of the room, while the boos and jeers from our side of the room tried to drown them out. Now I knew why that Stasi and Anton explained the Iron Front to me with disdain. Nicholas McCarthy was a hate monger, a monster supremacist, a complete fool. More of a fool than the people listening to his drivel. "Mr. McCarthy, are you proposing an event similar to the Christmas Bombings in South Africa?" Anton asked. Nicholas's face seemed to slacken, as if it was a balloon and the air was released from it. It was blown right back up in an instant. "You can only push someone so hard until they push back!" He cried, the Iron Front cheering once more. "The oppressive regime of the Apartheid pushed those two martyrs to die for what they believe in, and let it be known that their death has not been in vain!" "Because killing innocent people makes you a martyr!" I said loudly over the cheers. I wasn't sure if there was a hidden microphone in front of me or maybe I was louder than I thought I was, but my voice carried across the room, ending the cheering from the Iron Front in an instance. Immediately, uproar rose from the other half of the room. "Chris..." Stasi mumbled, worriedly, looking around. "Does the floor wish to recognize the guest of the Coven?" Vasili asked. "AYE!" The Tarasenko Bloc cried as well as all the other parties. I winced as Anton screamed in my ear. "Any opposed?" "Nay!" The slightly quieter Iron Front relayed. "The ayes have it. The Coven recognizes Christopher Williams!" "Let it so be recognized!" The Clerk announced, typing furiously at his computer. He looked excited now. "Uh..." I began. "Stand up." Stasi hissed. I jumped to my feet, brushing down the front of my suit. Under all the eyes around me, I suddenly found myself balking. Stasi squeezed my hand once more with her cold one and I realized she was still holding onto it. I looked back down at her and she stared back at me with her crystal blue eyes, conveying love, encouragement, and pride. That was all the encouragement I needed. I took a deep breath and spoke, the words forming in front of me as I went along. "I uh... I... I love this country. It has been my home, our home. It has been mine for nineteen years. Our tradition of welcoming everyone from all walks of life, whether they are human or not, has shaped our character as a people with limitless possibilities. Not as a people trapped by our past, but able to make ourselves as we choose. But, this DTOSA... is broken. We all know it is." I took another deep breath. "Our Civil Rights system is broken. It has been this way for decades. And for decades, no one has done much about it other than to aggravate the situation. Despite the violence, despite the tensions, the way isn't to commit to aggravating the situation, it isn't to cause more fear, more damage, more death. I stand before you today, to plead to you to know that an eye for an eye doesn't fix the world. It makes it blind. I stand before you to reveal these unexpected realities that not all humans are out to make your life a misery, that not all humans deserve to be put in the same boat as human supremacists, because humans are people, too." An explosion of cheers nearly launched me off my feet. I got a standing ovation from the Tarasenko Bloc, Stasi giving me a kiss as I sat down and Anton clapping me on the back. It was all worth it to see Nicholas McCarthy, closing and opening his mouth like a fish out of water. ****** "Marvelous!" Anton cried. "Absolutely marvelous, Chris!" He was giddy and radiating with excitement, rubbing his hands together as he sat down behind his desk. "I knew public service was right for you, Chris!" He continued. "Seeing you make that imbecile shut up for once was the best thing this Coven has ever seen. Grace under pressure. It is nice to hear that your Quarterback skills properly translate into politics!" "Thank you, but who was he?" I asked. "That was Nicholas McCarthy," Anton replied. "He's the current head of the Iron Front. His Iron Front are one of the more... unconventional blocs. They believe in the racial superiority of the nonhumans. It's all something that goes back to the teachings of the Bible, supposedly. Their fervor was only ignited when Belcourt brought home the Championship, even though they were led by you." "It's all glupyy," Stasi piped up. She was lounging on the couch and looked absolutely divine, the way her legs were crossed under her. I was content to agree with her. It all really did sound stupid. No one was better than the other because of something they had no control over. We were all equal in that aspect. "Yes, it is, Anastasia. I don't personally agree with what McCarthy spouts, but the Iron Front has an abnormally large amount of supporters." Anton scowled. "However infuriating it may be, we respect their opinion." "Each to their own, I guess," I replied. "Exactly, Christopher." "Was what you said true, though, papa? Do you think that Governor Lawson will want to meet with me to discuss the Werewolf Bill?" Stasi asked. "Not just you, Chris. The both of you," Anton corrected. "But yes, he will. He has already requested a meeting, believe it or not. His office refuses to meet with anyone at the Coven so it is rather difficult for us to speak, but nothing is said about an independent lobbyist." "Lobbyists?" I asked warily. "We're only high schoolers. We're not lobbyists." Despite my apprehension, I was actually kind of digging these politics. I loved AP Government, it was my favorite class. Now, I was really living it and breathing it. Take that, Ms. Olsen! "No, what you both are, you and Anastasia both, are activist-.. Even if you don't personally believe it," He said hastily upon seeing Stasi and I both about to argue. "Whether you like it or not, that's how this city, how this state, and how this country looks at you. You are both activists and symbols of our Civil Rights Movement." "What do you want us to do?" "Well," Anton said, tapping his chin thoughtfully and scrunching his nose. It was so like Stasi that it was eery. "Whether he likes it or not," He continued. "Governor Lawson refuses to listen to nonhumans but he will listen to you. We suspect that all his controversial acts that he puts out is a front to simply get re-elected. He, quite simply, does whatever it takes to stay in office. He is the kind of man who is always out to get more. It'd be a great deal to our people if you could go to his office and talk to him about this." "But what about me, papa?" Stasi asked. She self-consciously rubbed at her arms. "I'm... not human." "Devochka moya," Anton said. "You are whatever you want to be. But, it doesn't matter either way. If you go with Christopher and you both remain at each other's sides, he will listen to to the both of you, I am sure of it. Together, you both commend a lot of respect. Governor Lawson has the power to veto every bill within a specific number of days. Show him that a veto would be beneficial. Will you do it?" I looked at Stasi. All the trepidation that was on her face had washed away, leaving determination. She was going to follow me to the ends of the Earth, just like how I'd follow her. If we were just having a conversation to help our people, what could go wrong? "We'll do it," We said at the same time. "Bol'shoy! I am so very proud of the both of you. I'll have my secretary set up an appointment for the meeting later this month. You two can stay around and explore the building or you can walk around the city if you like." "We'll stick around," Stasi replied quickly. "I saw an awful lot of nonhumans getting stopped and searched by the police when we were driving in." "Yes, that'd be wise," Anton murmured, before looking up at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Vash podarok byl vozvrashchen v iskhodnoye mestopolozheniye." "Spasibo, Anton." I replied, grinning. "My gift? Put back into it's original location?" Stasi asked, perplexed. "What did you mean, papa?" "Nothing, moya zayka." He said. "It's just your birthday gift, is all." "My birthday gift?!" She nearly screamed. "Papa, what's he getting me?" "I plead the fourth." He replied. "It's the fifth," I corrected. "That was a test," He chuckled, before looking up at me. "You passed, Chris." "Papa!" Stasi begged. "You'll find out on your birthday this weekend," He said, before flipping through his after action report. "Unless you ask Chris, of course. Now have fun exploring the building, you two." We departed from his office and as soon as we walked into the hallway, Stasi turned to me and I took a sharp intake of breath. Please don't give me the eyes. Please don't give me the eyes. Please don't give me the eyes... "Lyubooooov," She pleaded, giving me the eyes. "Will you tell me what my gift is, pleeeeaaaaasse?" Goddamnit. If I was Superman, her pleading tone was my kryptonite. Her accented voice was like honey, beckoning to me. It was hypnotizing and mesmerizing. When you broke out those underhanded tactics, I was like a dead tree, withering under the onslaught of the elements. I closed my eyes, steeling my resolve. "Pozhaluysta?" She repeated. "Nyet," I replied, my heart feeling as if it was being squeezed. "You'll find out on your birthday." Stasi's shoulders sagged and she looked deflated. "Am I losing my touch?" "No, definitely not. You nearly had me." I answered. "I just don't want to tell you what it is before your birthday. It'll ruin the surprise." "Okay," She sighed dramatically, before rubbing her face with her hand. When she peeled them away, her lips were upturned, her fangs accentuating her smile. "I guess I'll have to stew in anticipation." "I'm sorry," I apologized, smiling. "I forgive you, lyubov." Chapter 6: She didn't have to stew in anticipation for long. We celebrated her birthday the Friday that week. It was a small, intimate affair, with only our closest friends, family, and each other. Even though most vampires were rather social people, we liked the small gatherings even more. Those huge parties looked like fun, for sure, but to us, they were meaningless and far less powerful than the small ones. "Chris?" Yulia asked, interrupting Stasi and I's conversation. "Da?" I asked, looking at her. "Can you help me carry all these leftovers to the fridge in the garage? I'm afraid it's awfully heavy." "I can get it, mama." Viktor said, moving to stand up. "Nyet," Yulia shook her head. "You finish the food on your plate first. Come along, Chris." "You got it," I replied. I gave Stasi a quick kiss on the cheek. "Be back soon." "Hurry back," She told me before turning back to Lucy, noticeably more sullen that I was no longer next to her. I hurried over to Yulia, picking up tray after tray of food and stacking it on top of each other. Grunting with exertion, I lifted the whole thing, carrying it over to the spare freezer in the garage. One thing about Yulia Sokolov was that she loved to cook. So much, in fact, that she always cooked extra meals, freezing them and storing them in the garage. It wasn't unheard of for me to stroll up to Stasi's house with the intention to meet and spend time with her only to come back home with a tray of frozen stewed potatoes. Given how perpetually hungry I was, those trays never lasted long before they were dropped back off at Stasi's house, clean as a whistle. We were fortunate, really fortunate to be able to have such good and healthy food. Anton had contacts to get us the good quality stuff. Other people weren't so lucky. The stores and supermarkets that nonhuman were forced to use because of the DTOSA were stocked with the human throwaways: stale bread, spoiled milk, and rotting meat. It was disgusting. "Spasibo, Christopher." Yulia said, opening the door to the freezer. "No problem," I gasped, setting the trays of food down onto the lowest rack and closing the heavy freezer door. I decided right then and there that I needed to start hitting the weight room again. "You know," Yulia began, watching me. "I took your gift for a-..." She clicked her tongue. "Oh, how do they say it in America? A twist?" "A spin?" I asked. "Yes! That's the word. A spin! How fun it was," She said. "It brought back memories that I long thought were forgotten. Well done, Christopher. I'm sure Anna will love it." "Hopefully," I said, wiping down my hands on my pants. "No, not hopefully. She will," Yulia corrected. "Anything you give her she will love, even if it's something as menial and simple as your attention and blood. There's a reason she calls you her lyubov and not her zaichik, you know. We, Russian women don't throw that term around loosely, especially us Russian vampire women." She leaned forward and opened the refrigerator. The contents didn't faze me. I already knew what was inside. Rather than stockpiled with food and beverages, the fridge was stockpiled with synthetic blood packs, all hanging from racks. Yulia reached up and pulled out two of the packs, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. "You don't mind, do you, Christopher?" She asked. "About what?" "This." She held up the blood packs. "Of course not," I retorted. "Why would I mind you guys feeding on fake blood?" "Look closer," She encouraged. I inspected the bag. It looked like one of the blood bags that you see on TV. It even had a white label, with sharpie written on it. The words were in Russian. My reading comprehension wasn't as good as my speaking, far from it, but I could still make it out. Анастасия Соколова "Anastasia Sokolov," I read aloud. "She went back to her synthetics? I thought they were bad for her." "Nyet, she didn't. They're still bad for her, at least, from what I remembered. Back in September, she tried to get back into the blood pack because she thought she was hurting you, but it only made her sick. The poor thing. She must've been throwing up for hours," Yulia said, inspecting the pack. "No, we simply donate her unused packs or I find a way to put them in recipes." She looked back up at me. "So, Chris, you don't mind, do you?" "Her blood pack being donated? Of course not," I replied. "Not if it makes her sick. I'd willingly give her every drop of my blood if she ever wanted or needed it." "You're very brave, you know." Yulia said, cocking her head. "Not many people are very fond of our species, considering that we're forever stigmatized as the ones who drink and gorge on the very thing that keep humans alive." "Brave? I'm not brave," I admitted. "I just love Stasi so much that it hurts. Why would I deny giving her what she needs? My blood will always regenerate. She won't." "You value her over your well-being?" Yulia asked. "Of course." "Why?" "Because she values mine over hers," I said. "It balances out." Yulia gave me a pointed look. "That was a joke," I added. Yulia simply watched me. "Nyet," She said after a while. "It's not a joke. She does value your well being over her own. She gives way to pick up your slack, but then again, you give way to pick up her slack. It's a relationship dynamic that is truly heartwarming," She closed the door to the refrigerator. "Have you heard back from UCLA yet?" "No." I replied, leaving it at that. I didn't want to talk about colleges and Yulia knew it. Stasi and I made the mutual decision to just bury ourselves in other activities. Video games, books, each other's sexual parts, and just avoid having to think about the inevitable-ness of everything. Moreover, to avoid having to think of the possibility of being separated. "I'm sorry for bringing it up," Yulia said, patting me on the arm. "Do you know what else Ii'm sorry for, Christopher?" "What's thatup?" "I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you." She said, looking up at me. "I'm sorry that you grew up in a hateful world. I'm sorry that you're living a life no normal person should ever have to live. I'm so proud of you, me, Anton, your parents, we are so proud of you and Anna. Life is too short to be vengeful and malicious and you both embody that by showing that two very different people can love each other dearly. I only ask one thing." "What's that?" I choked out. "Take care of Anna for us. She acts so sil'nyye I zhestkiye, but yet, she is still so fragile. Being alone and without you is her greatest fear, but I think you already know that and refuse to let that fear become a reality. Wherever you two go, go together and go with all your heart. Please promise me that." "I will," I promised. It was a promise I never intend to break. Stasi, ever since we first admitted that we were in love with each other, her heart was handcuffed to me. I was never going to let her go. ****** "What took you so long?" Stasi asked as I sat back down at the table. I turned to look at her, nearly finding my breath snatched from me. Not only was she stunningly beautiful, but her outfit was really cute on her. It was a black halter top that contrasted heavily against her pale skin and jeans that looked painted on her shapely behind. Her spring wear. I felt a slight twinge of sorrow, knowing that Winter was long gone. "We had a chat," I replied. "About what?" Elena asked nosily. "It was about a person," Stasi scowled. "Her first name was Nunya and her last name was Business." "Feisty," Jazz snickered, nestling on her coiled tail. "If this is you now, I wonder how you're going to treat Chris in the bedroom later." Thankfully, none of the parents heard that. Only Elena and Lucy did. However, that didn't stop Stasi and I from sputtering and having our faces turn as red as tomatoes. "Have you no shame?" Lucy asked, looking scandalized. Jazz stuck out her forked tongue playfully, her green slitted eyes narrowed. Meanwhile, I turned to Stasi, wrapping my arm around her cold, lithe body and pulling her tight to me in a side hug. She sighed in contentment, resting her head on my shoulder and closing her eyes. Even though she was next to me, it was almost as if that wasn't enough. It wasn't physically close to being enough. We were so touchy feely with each other, always expressing our emotions and love with physical contact. We always had this dynamic in our relationship ever since we were kids. I was her plyushevyy medved and she was my personal teddy bear. If that teddy bear was cold, beautiful, lithe, willowy, and had delicious curves that is. "Happy birthday, Stasi." I whispered. "You said that already," She reminded me. "Many times today." "It's kind of my day to celebrate too." "Oh?" "Yeah. I get to celebrate one more year to the time that I've known you." She pulled a face, rolling her eyes. "Smooth as velcro, Chris. Real'naya gladkaya." "You love it," I teased. "I do love it," She admitted, before tilting her face up to me, leaning in close. "But, I think I love you more." "Oh, you do?" I asked. "A tiny, tiny bit more. Deystvitel'no malen'kiy. Like a small speck of velcro." She giggled, revealing her fangs. "I'll take it," I chuckled, before giving her lips a soft, sensual kiss. When we broke it, Stasi had her nose scrunched up in thought as she raised her hand. Tentatively, her fingers brushed against my cheek, chin, and mouth. "What?" "It felt like I was kissing velcro," She laughed loudly, the goofy belly Russian laugh that I loved. I kissed her again on the forehead, before pulling back. I loved it when I was with her. Even though she was a vampire, she was my best friend and my closest companion. All my inhibitions could just be dropped. I didn't have to pretend to be someone I wasn't. I looked around the kitchen. "Where's Viktor and Ricky?" "Ricky's probably on the XBox. Viktor is..." Her crystal blue eyes grew clouded. "He's out and about." I cocked my head. "Is there something you're not telling me?" "Nyet," She shook her head. I knew she was lying. I could detect it. But, I didn't push it. We conversed for a few more minutes after that, talking about anything and everything, before I told her that I needed to use the restroom. My chair scraped on the floor as I stood up, stretching. I gave Stasi a peck on the top of her head before walking off towards the bathroom. I waved at Ricky in the living room. He was the only one on the XBox while Jazz and Lucy, who had migrated from the kitchen, were watching. My brow furrowed in thought. Where was Viktor? Was he really going to miss Stasi's birthday? I walked up the stairs and into the bathroom, flicking on the light. It smelled like lavender, no doubt from the purple candle that was slowly burning away at the corner of the table. I quickly did my business and washed my hands before turning off the light and walking out. But, rather than walk back downstairs into the kitchen. I did something else. I walked towards Viktor's room, knocking on the door. "Viktor? You in there buddy?" I asked. "Viktoooooor. Tricky Vik. Vik my tick." I tested the doorknob and found it unlocked, before I simply opened the door and walked in, gasping immediately at what I saw. Viktor was inside, on an antique chair at the center of the room. Zipties kept his writhing hands attached to the chair and he was gasping and wheezing in pain. When he looked up at me enter his room, his eyes widened, horrible pitch-black eyes like cesspools of ink. Then, they narrowed. "Blood," He breathed. His writhing hands turned into fists and he strained against them, ripping the plastic as if it were nothing more than tape. With his hands free, he tore out the feeding tube that was attached to his nose; dark, red fluid spurting out and splattering on the floor. Whether it was his or from the SBP that was under the chair, I didn't know. I couldn't even think, or move as a matter of fact. My feet felt like they had cinder blocks attached to them. I could only watch as Viktor stood up and gave a primal roar, charging at me and tackling me, knocking the wind right out of my lungs. The both of us went tumbling straight to the ground and Viktor grabbed my head, slamming it repeatedly into the wooden floor in an intent to kil-... "Ouch!" I cried, as the fragile wine glass filled with water broke in my tight grasp. I looked around in confusion. I was back in the dining room. Stasi and Elena immediately snapped their heads towards me, their eyes widening in alarm. "Der'mo!" Stasi swore, before clamping a hand over her mouth. "Sozhaleyu, mama." "Watch your mouth, Anastasia," Yulia said sharply. "Here Chris, let me get you a rag. Are you ok?" "Ye-.. yeah, Ii'm fine. Where's Viktor?" I stammered, breathing erratically. "I told you," Stasi replied, trying to stem the torrent of water with her napkin. "He's playing the XBox with Ricky and Jazz. Lyubov, are you ok? Did you get cut?" I looked at her confused. She said that? She said Viktor was playing the Xbox? Yulia came over with a rag, setting it down on the puddle and letting it absorb the water. "Sorry," I said bashfully. "It's ok," She gestured to my hand. "Let me see your hand. Did you cut yourself?" "A little," I looked at my hand. Sure enough, I was bleeding from a small cut at the center of my hand from the glass. "Do you want a band-aid?" My mom asked from the kitchen counter. "No, Ii'll be fine." I answered. "I don't need it. Here." I held out my hand towards Stasi. She placed her hands under it, holding it in her cold grasp. She looked at Yulia, and sure enough, Yulia was watching Stasi intently. Without another word, Stasi raised my bleeding hand towards her mouth and placed it over the wound. She sucked on it for a few seconds before licking it with her dainty tongue, sealing the wound and let go of my hand with a slight look of ecstasy on her face. I looked at my palm. "Good as new," I noted, before giving her a hug. "Thank you," She whispered into my ear, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "You're brave for doing that in front of everybody," I murmured back before letting go and helping Yulia get the mess cleaned up. After we threw away the glass and I had my profuse apologies waved away by Yulia and my mom, we transferred ourselves to Stasi's room for some much-needed privacy. ***** "Okay," Stasi said sharply as soon as she closed her door. "What happened down in the kitchen?" "What do you mean?" I asked. "Don't 'what do you mean' me, Christopher Robert Williams!" She said, her razor sharp fangs elongated as she punctuated every word with a poke in the chest. "Something isn't right." I sat down on her bed, rubbing my face. I was still rattled over what I thought in the kitchen. Viktor would never do anything like that... would he? I shoved those thought straight out of my head. Of course not. He's still the kid that I knew and loved like a little brother. Stasi's angry expression immediately shifted into a worried one. She immediately kneeled in front of me, spreading my legs apart so she could rest in between them. She looked up at me with her large, crystal blue eyes and cupped my face with her cold hands. "Did I speak too loud, lyubov? Is your head hurting?" "A little. My head, not your voice. Your voice is perfect," I backtracked hastily upon seeing a look of hurt flash across her face. "You're perfect. My head is just hurting. I'm ok." And my ears are acting up. I'm hearing stuff and my vision is blurry. I was the epitome of health. "You're not ok," Stasi observed, resting her head on my thigh. With her face so precariously close to my growing erection, it must've felt it or seen it. Her small smile, though, that small, possessive, fang-filled smile, told me she did. "Please be honest with me, lyubov. I act like it's easy to see through your lying and it is most of the time. It just requires too much effort." I snorted, running my fingers through her long raven hair. "I don't know what happened in the kitchen. I completely spaced out and squeezed the glass too hard. I think with all this, school, life, the business with the Coven, I think i'm completely falling apart. I don't want you to think i'm weak or anything." "You're not weak," Stasi replied immediately. "You're strong, stronger than anyone I know. I know how it feels, lyubov. Sometimes, I feel like i'm falling apart too. But, there's one thing that keeps me together. One thing I can't do without." "What?" I asked, having an inkling of what she was going to say. "It's you," She said passionately. "You're the one that keeps me sane. Ya lyublyu tebya tak sil'no. You're the whole reason I find a way to keep on living my life. You're the reason I smile, the reason I work to kick your butt in school, and the reason why I-... well, everything." My heart soared. Every word rang true with me, because they applied to her as well. Stasi was my best friend and she was the reason I woke up in the morning, why I always looked forward to the next day. It was because of her. "Thanks, Stasi. You're the reason for everything I do." "I know, Chris, I know." She cooed softly in your accent. "You're not falling apart. You're just stressed under all this pressure. We both are. I know your body as well as my ow-... well, maybe I know this part more," She giggled, placing her palm on my erection and making me jump. The fact that she didn't take her hand away grounded me to reality. "Everybody's just downstairs," I noted. "I know," Stasi dropped her hand regretfully, before standing up and plopping down on the bed. "I want you, Chris." "I know," I replied. "I want you too. Really bad." I looked down at her body, positioned demurely on top of her covers. Her delicate pale face that was framed by her raven hair. . Her expressive blue eyes. Her willowy, lithe body. Her full breasts. The generous curves. Everything about her screamed beauty and perfection. "Later tonight." "Promise?" She asked, holding out her pinkie. "Promise," I replied, interlocking my pinkie with hers. She dropped her hand and I slid down the bed towards her feet. She looked at me strangely, before I picked up her dainty feet and rotated around, placing them on my lap. I then began to rob the taut, cold flesh. Judging from the way Stasi purred, I was doing a bang up job. "Good?" "Gre-EEAT!" She yelped when I tickled her foot. She glared at me "Don't do that!" "Sorry," I replied, going back to massage them, but Stasi kept them out of my reach. I thought she was about to kick me, but all she did was gesture for me to come up the bed. "You've lost foot rub privileges," She told me. "I did?" "Mhm," She grinned, her fangs accentuating her smile. "What if I do your back?" "Maybe you'll get them back," She said coquettishly before rolling onto her front. I scooted up the bed and began to massage her back, just like she used to do for me after a rough football practice, and I, her, after a rough volleyball practice. She let me use the oil she had found earlier that month cleaning up her room. She had it ever since sophomore year of high school, when she wanted to try and use it to give me a massage. But, since it was labeled as a 'Couple's Only' massage, she grew too chicken. I got a kick out of that one, but it was a great oil. She was putty in my arms as I rubbed and kneaded out the knots in her back. But once I had her back on her back, everything changed. "Wha-.. what are you doing?" She asked breathlessly as I began to unbutton her jeans. "Giving you your first birthday present," I replied. "Chris, our parents..." She moaned, her face flushed. "Stasi.." "Da, lyubov?" "What is everyone doing right now?" Stasi's ears perked up. "Viktor, Ricky, Elena, and Jazz are still on the XBox playing some fighting game. Our parents are talking and laughing about some story in the kitchen." Stasi said. "Ok, I didn't even hear that. You can. If we try to be quiet, you can just hear if anybody's coming up the steps." "Why didn't I think of that?" Stasi asked, as I restarted on pulling her pants and black, lace panties away. "Because you think too much." I chuckled, before taking a sharp intake of breath when I pulled off her jeans undergarments so they were bunched around her knees. Just like every other aspect of my best friends luscious and perfect body, her pussy was absolutely exquisite. I could already tell that she was wet and ready for me. I looked up at her. Her mouth was open as she sucked in air, her chest heaving and breasts rising up and down. I really liked what I was seeing. I loved what I was seeing in fact. "I love you," I whispered. I knew for a long time now, but I knew that she was it. She was the one. My soul mate, my other half. I said those three words countless times, but it was never going to be enough. I owed it to her after all these years of being silent, of being the best friend I could be. "I know," She whispered back, reaching down and stroking my cheek affectionately. "I love you too." I moved down on her body, laying kisses over any pale, cold skin that was exposed: her public mound, her soft belly, her thighs. Her eyes were closed and she was panting, her chest rising and falling. Finally, I arrived at her pussy. "Oy, chto chuvstvuyet sebya tak khorosho." Stasi groaned. "Wait until you feel this," I laughed. I poked my tongue out and licked the outside, going all the way around and deliberately making sure to miss her clit, making butterfly kisses. Stasi squirmed in response so I placed my hands on her cold thighs to stop her from moving before continuing my oral onslaught. I made sure to torment, tease her, do my best to drive her bonkers. "Chris," She gasped. "Davay! Pozhaluysta!" "What?" I teased. "Are you trying to make me beg?" "That's... that's actually not a bad idea," I said cheekily. She pouted, giving me the 'eyes'. "On my birthday?" I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I sighed. I gave her slit a long lick, then a pressed my hand against her lips, opening her up. I didn't waste any time, starting to suck on her clit like a lollipop. Stasi immediately threw her head back on the pillow, gasping as I pressed two fingers against her lips and slid them right into her tight, wet pussy. "Oh Chris," She moaned, clasping her hand over her mouth. She began groaning in pleasure, squirming around on the bed, all the while running her hand underneath her halter top as I continued to eat her out. With her free hand, she brought it down to my head, running it through my close cropped hair, then down to my face, sliding her cold fingertips against my skin, caressing me. "Lyubov," She groaned out gutturally again, writhing and gasping. She was making all sorts of lewd noises and I loved them. I loved them because I was the cause of all of it. I kept pistoning my fingers in and out of her, all the while sucking, never wanting to let up. "Chris, don't stop. Don't stop," She chanted. "I'm almost... i'm almost.." She quickly snatched up a pillow, pressing it over her face as she shrieked into it, grinding her pussy against my face. Her body went taut and she began to tremble uncontrollably as she went through a mindblowing orgasm. Soon, her grinding slowed to a gentle rocking, then she stopped. She pulled the pillow away, dropping it on the floor. She was sighing, breathing heavily, and swallowing fast. "Zaichik," She moaned, looking down at me. "Yeah?" I asked, looking up at her. Her face was flushed and her raven hair was askew and in disarray. She was glowing and she was beautiful. My best friend. "That was awesome," She laughed shakily, showing her elongated fangs. "Great," I replied. "What is everybody doing now?" "Still on the XBox," Stasi cocked her head, narrowing her crystal blue eyes playfully. "Am I not entertaining enough for you, comrade?" "Da vy," I replied, smiling at her adorable accent. "I just wanted to know where they were is all." She nodded and laid her head back down on her pillow as she began to pull her jeans back up. "I don't..." She panted. "I don't know how you manage to be this good to me." "Sometimes," I replied. "I ask the same thing myself." "Sometimes?" She raised a delicate eyebrow. "All the time," I laughed, scooting up the bed to give her a kiss. We laid there and endulged in post-coital cuddling and caresses before we finally decided to turn on a movie. Pretty soon, everyone from downstairs came up to check on us and together we all watched a movie on Stasi's TV. That is, until Yulia came up and told us it was time to open presents. ****** "So what'd you get me?" Stasi asked, as we were getting set up in the living room. "Not telling," I told her. "We got you a Belcourt High School Parking Pass," Jazz piped up. "You spent that much money on me?" Stasi gasped. "Really?" "No, but according to Loudy McLoudmouth here," Jazz nudged Ricky with her tail. "Chris spent alot of money." Stasi shot a glare at me and looked ready to throw something for spending so much money on her. I shot a glare at Ricky and looked ready to throw something for throwing me under the bus. "You told her?" "She was going to strangle me with her tail," Ricky said defensively. "There was nothing I could do!" He sat up on Jazz's tail, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. I thought it was surprising that Jazz always let Ricky lay or sit on her coiled tail. Normally, if someone so much as accidently stepped on it, she got pissed and started screaming. She trusted Ricky alot to let him sit on her tail. I never tried, but from the frequent times Ricky did it, it must've been comfortable. "I am never going to let you help me ever again," I scowled. "Fine, since you won't tell me. I'll take about something else," Stasi crossed her legs indian-style, facing me. "Did you tell Viktor that he's going to be your Designated Survivor?" "Successor," I corrected, looking over her shoulder. Viktor was in the bathroom. "And no, not yet. I was waiting because I wanted to see if he can handle the role. I should tell him so he can find a suitable vice president in time." Seeing as Belcourt was in it's first year, rather than have a democratic vote, the school and administration were bestowing the honor upon me to pick the next president to succeed me. At a normal school, what would've happened was that there was going to be a democratic vote with the student body, and all I could do was endorse who I wanted. I liked the former option better. I enjoyed being a dictator. I was my very own Kim Jong Il, only I didn't massacre or genocide nonhumans. "Who do you think he'll pick?" Stasi asked. "Abby told me she's interested in being the first Secretary or Treasurer of Belcourt, so it's not her." I shrugged. "Maybe he'll pick Elena." "Nepotism at it's best," Stasi noted. When the parents finally came in, we began to open the presents. Stasi got a decent haul, with plenty of money, makeup, gift cards, and clothing. She even got a box of homemade fudge from my parents, something that Stasi declared was going to be the best gift of her life. However, when it was time for Stasi to open her parents' present, we were met with a big surprise. "Mama, Papa, what's this?" Stasi asked, holding up the cylindrical container. It looked light and made of cardboard. Not the cheap kind, the expensive kind... if that made any sense. "Well, do you remember the Coven Ball, Anastasia? When Christopher recieved his watch?" Anton asked. "Da." "Well," Yulia said. "We wanted to do the same. We wanted to start the tradition with you, that whenever you become an adult, not by age, but by the way you conduct yourself, you will earn the watch." Stasi looked at her open mouthed, then at the cylinder container before she went to work opening it. When she pulled away the cover, she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Inside the container was a Tag Heuer stainless steel watch. Sleek, fashionable, rugged, and feminine. Just like Stasi. The watch was totally Stasi. Stasi attached it to her wrist and looked at it gingerly and affectionately before standing up and hugging both of her parents. "Spasibo!" She cried, hugging them both tightly. "When do I get mine?" Elena asked. "At the rate you're going, thirty years down the road." Viktor quipped. "Hey!" "Can it you two," I laughed. "Oh yes, can it! Because I believe it's time for Chris's present!" Yulia announced, shooting me a knowing glance. Stasi's head shot up, looking at me in adorable anticipation. I could only guess how badly she wanted to know what I got her. "Yeah, bro. It's time for us to see it," Viktor chirped. "How come you didn't go first?" "Well, I mean... I couldn't exactly wrap it." I said apologetically. "It's hidden in the basement. Come on, guys." The sound of chairs scraping echoing around the room made my headache, but I was still smiling nonetheless. Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach and I was eagerly looking forward to seeing Stasi's face when she saw her present. But still, I couldn't help but think that it was going to be a dud. I mean, she hadn't touched it in years. Why would she still want to now? "Chris? Are you coming?" Stasi asked, peering at me with those big, crystal blue eyes of hers. I looked around the living room to realize that Stasi and I were the only ones in the kitchen. Everyone else was in the basement. "Are you alright?" "Yeah," I replied. "Yeah, i'm fine. Nice watch. Elena has a good eye." She crossed her arms, pouting at me. "Thank you, but really? You're going to lie to me? On my den' rozhdeniya?" "How'd you know I was lying?" She cracked a fangy smile. "I know all your tricks, lyubov. I've known and loved you for thirte-... no, fourteen years! Look at this face. You can't lie to me." "Ok, fine. You win," I laughed, conceding. "I'm just paranoid that you'll be disappointed at my present." "Oh, oh, lyubov," She groaned in her accent, outstretching her arms and crushing me in a hug, rubbing her tantalizing breasts against my chest. "You could've gotten me nothing and I still would've been happy with it. You're all I ever wished for and all I ever wanted." "Thanks," I said, my heart soaring at her words. "I love you," "No, I love you." She replied cheekily, giving me a cold kiss on the jaw. "Now come on, everyone's waiting." Together, we walked hand in hand down into the basement. The basement was used as a hangout place during parties, but it was also a place where Stasi and I could relax and exercise. It was large and the folding tumbler mat at the center of the room usually meant that we could spar and practice our eroding martial arts skills. The usually darkened inner sanctum of the Sokolov household was brightly lit with lights and everyone was seated on the plush couches and floor, looking at me expectantly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my gift. Sitting in plain sight. I stopped in the center of the room and Stasi turned to look at me expectantly, cocking her head. Everyone's eyes were on me and I coughed awkwardly. "I.. uh... I wish I had a grand gesture for you to show you your present. But, I don't. Sorry." "It's ok, I love you anyways," Stasi replied. 'Awwwhs' echoed around us. "Well, just..." I gestured fruitlessly to her gift. "There it is!" "Where?" Stasi asked, walking over to it and looking around my gift for a gift. "There!" I said. "Your hands are on it." Stasi looked down at her hands then back up at me in confusion. "The piano?" "Yes, the piano." I said. We, as a people, have a natural tendency to disregard things, even people, that seem old and way past their prime. But most of the time, it is those who don't look interesting on the outside that were most interesting on the inside. The Sokolov Piano was no exception to that. It was tall and heavy, made of mahogany, and older than my parents. With it's faded brown finish, it wasn't a whole lot to look at and there wasn't a whole lot to actually hear. A lot of the keys and strings were broken, making certain notes unplayable. It was dirty on the interior and badly needed a tuning. However, it held a lot of sentimental (and monetary) value. It was the piano that Yulia inherited from her family and was shipped directly from Russia during the eighties. It was made in 1890 and saw more years and action than I would have ever hoped. It was also the piano that Stasi learned to play the piano on. She put up with the broken keys, the abysmal sound, and the overall terrible quality for years, trying in vain to master her craft. I say in vain because eventually, right when she got good at it, Stasi simply gave up. She had to settle for me trying fruitlessly to play her favorite songs on my guitar. The piano was relegated to a corner of the basement and covered with a tarp, used from them on only as a way to look back on memories and as decoration for when guests came over. "Open it," I encouraged. With a confused look on her face, Stasi lifted the fall, the part that covered the keys, and gasped right as Yulia took a picture. Staring back at her, rather than the yellowed and chipped keys that normally would've stared back at her, shiny ivory and black was all she saw. Well, that and the extra large black sticky note that doubled as a birthday card. I actually got black on accident. I sent Ricky to go buy some sticky notes for me and he got black. Have you ever tried writing on a black sticky note with a black Sharpie? It doesn't work. So rather than use Sharpie and having Stasi strain her eyes trying to read different shades of black, I used a White-Out pen that I dug out of Anton's study. Stasi plucked the sticky note off the keys, reading it silently, her mouth mutely moving along to the words. I already knew what it said and nobody else did. Like the trend of Stasi always leaving me love notes with her sticky notes, it was just something that we were going to share with each other and only each other. 'Loved you yesterday, loved you today, will love you even more tomorrow. Always have, always will. Happy burfday - Chris' "You didn't," She breathed, her voice filled with emotion. "I did," I said, nodding my head proudly. "Well, kind of I... it's a gift from my entire family since it got kinda pricy." "But it was Chris's idea and he planned the whole thing," My mom interjected. "Don't sell yourself short, sweetheart. I mean, you'll probably be in debt for the rest of your life." "But who cares?" My dad laughed. With shaking and splayed fingers, she pressed down on a few keys at once, then individually, playing a tune. The piano sounded back perfectly in a plinky-plink fashion and when she was done, she looked up at me, tears of blood in her eyes. The smile she gave me nearly split her face in two and her fangs slipped out for all of us to see. Music had such a profound impact on our relationship. We both loved music. Listening to it or trying to play it. But in truth, music was so much more than a common pleasure. Music is an art which can touch anyone. It has so much power because people can relate with it. It brings people together, it makes them feel emotion. If it was going to be anything that would end the DTOSA, it was going to be music. She walked over to me, wiping her eyes and I immediately opened up my arms, crushing her in a hug to the cheers of everyone. "Happy birthday, Stasi." "Thank you, Chris." She sobbed, burying her face into my chest. "I love you. I love you. I love you. This is the best birthday present ever." "I love you, too." I replied, resting my head on her raven hair. It was moments like these where I cherished her. Moments where we forgot everything. Forgot racism, forgot the DTOSA, forgot discrimination. Moments where we forgot everything but each other. ****** ****** It took a while for Stasi to be pulled away from the piano. I wasn't the one that pulled her away, either. Watching her play was fascinating. Her entire love for the art was reborn and in no time at all, she had shaken the rust from her long and elegant fingers, playing along to songs that we both loved growing up. Of course, it didn't help that I was playing along as best as I could using Viktor's old guitar. It shouldn't even be his. He quit in around two months. "Anastasia," Yulia chimed, leaning her head down into the basement. "We're leaving." "What?" Stasi asked, turning away from the piano. "We're going over to Chris's house for coffee," Yulia replied, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her. "We might even be forced to stay the night in the guest room, given how late your papa and Robert can stay up talking about dreadful sports." That was smart. Even though Stasi and I lived pretty close, it wasn't safe for a car with nonhuman plates to be out at this time, given the current tensions regarding werewolves. "Is everyone not going to be home?" Stasi asked. Everyone else, Lucy, Jazz, Ricky, and my parents were long gone, having already decided to leave before it got too dark. Elena was spending the night with Lucy and Jazz, and Viktor was doing... well, I actually think that Viktor said he was going to go to Abby's house to hang out before going to sleep over at Ricky's. "Huh?" Yulia looked around the basement in mock astonishment before placing her hand over her heart. "Oh my, ty prav! It does seem you two will be the only ones home. Will you two be alright by yourselves?" "Da, mama." Stasi said quickly. "My budem v poryadke." "Are you su-.." Yulia pressed, smiling wider. "Da, mama!" Stasi repeated louder. "We'll be fine!" "I'm sure you will. You both have been fine together, for fourteen years now." She gave us one last mischievous glance, before bowing her head. "Don't stay up late you two. I don't want to have to come back home. Chris, make sure Anna goes to bed on time so she isn't tired tomorrow." "Yes, Yulia." I said. "I'll make sure." "Anna, make sure Chris goes to bed on ti-.." "Da, mama!" Stasi said loudly. "You can go now!" Yulia gave her a pointed look and Stasi withered, sagging her shoulders. "Chto ya vsegda govoryu, Anastasia?" She asked sharply. There was a dull thump as Stasi banged her head on the piano. "Impatience causes wise people to do foolish things." She mumbled. "Spasibo," Yulia said. "But, I think I can tell why you're so impatient. Why, I was once your age my-.." "Mama!" Stasi cried, clamping her hands over her ears. I did the same. Yulia burst out laughing, a genuine belly laugh that made me want to laugh. "Oh, never change you two! Right, well, i've taken up enough of your time. Enjoy your birthday, Anastasia." She blew her a kiss. "Thank you. Love you, mama." "I love you too, Anna. You as well, Chris. Have a good night! Stay safe, I don't want to be a grandmother just ye-.." "MAMA!" Stasi cried, her face as red as a tomato. "I'm only jesting, Anna." She laughed. "Have a good night." She waved at us and stepped out of the basement, back to the kitchen to collect her things with Anton, and together they left, leaving us alone for the first time today. Alone. My smile grew slightly giddy. For the first time today, we were finally alone. For the whole night it seemed. It was going to be just us, as it was for nearly all our lives. Just two best friends that were coincidentally in deep and hopeless love. My eyes turned to Stasi, my dark brown meeting her crystal blue. It seemed she had come to the same conclusion, given her growing fangy smile. "We're finally alone, lyubov." "I know," I replied, strumming my guitar one last time and setting it down. "What do you want to do? It's your birthday after all." Stasi scrunched her nose in thought. "We could do... we could watch a movie. We could do our homework. We can eat ice cream. We can do each other.." She shrugged coquettishly, before givng me a coy smile that gave me no doubt of what she really wanted to do. I knew her just like the back of my hand. "You can pick." "Bedroom?" I suggested. "Bedroom," She confirmed, giving me a wide fangy grin. ****** We managed to get into her bedroom without losing our minds, but we couldn't keep our hands off each other. We were practically giddy and giggling with excitement, our bodies locked together. "I thought you said impatience causes wise people to do foolish things," I teased, as I opened the door to her room behind her back. "Oh, so you're saying you're patient?" Stasi asked, sticking her tongue out at me. "More than you!" I shot back. Stasi shrugged. "Guilty. I just can't wait to spend some time with my best friend." She said playfully, before wrapping her arms and my neck and pulling me in for a searing kiss. Not only did it feel like my head was melting when she did that, but the way she brought her cold arms around my neck made me shiver. She pulled back, looking at me self-conciously. "Am I too cold, lyubov?" "No, just perfect. Am I too warm?" I asked sardonically, making her give me a dazzling fangy grin. "No, just perfect." She replied, before removing her hands to reach for the hem of her halter top. Inch after inch of pale, creamy skin was revealed as she pulled it up over her head, tossing it to the side of her room. I made a noise of appreciation as I admired the way her black, lacy bra contrasted against her skin. "Like what you see?" "Very much, so." I breathed. Her body was a work of art, with the curves in the right places. I looked down, my hands moving to unbutton my light blue shirt. Stasi's hands stopped me and I looked at her confused, only to find her staring at me with a mischievous twinkle in her big eyes. "Let me," She told me before beginning to unbutton my shirt slowly. "It's like unwrapping a birthday present." "Oh, I'm just a birthday present am I?" I teased. "No, no lyubov," She replied passionately, looking up at me, her eyes like blue sunlight. "You're much more than that." She silently finished undressing me, pulling my shirt off of me and setting it on the floor. Then, she worked on my pants and boxers. When she had me completely naked, she gave me a kiss on the cheek before dropping to her knees. Holding onto my hands, she carefully and softly kissed the head of my throbbing member. I let out a low guttural moan, letting go of her hands to run mine through her raven hair. She worked her tongue from the base of my cock to the tip and as I looked down at my best friend, the one who had my heart now and forever, I found her peering up back at me. Slowly, she enveloped the head of my cock into her mouth and took me in completely. "Ohhhh," I moaned. It was an overwhelming of sensation as she bobbed her head up and down, working me in and out of her throat. I gently ran my hands down her face, cupping her jaw. She had really worked on her technique and knew what I loved and didn't love and she commited to entire being to do the former. Suddenly, she pulled off, wiping spittle away with the back of her hand as she smiled up at me. "Feel good?" She asked, brushing tresses of her long raven hair out of her eyes. "You know damn well that feels amazing," I laughed. "I want to hear you say it," She pouted in her accent, stroking my cock softly. "It feels amazing, absolutely amazing. It feels even better knowing that you're doing it." I told her. "Any more of that and my head will be huge," She giggled, kissing the head of my erection again and gracefully standing up. She reached back behind her and undid her bra strap, the lacy material that I liked falling away onto the floor. Her nipples were like little pebbles, hard as a rock. She reached for her jeans, pulling them down and off of her. Then, we were both fully naked. Stasi gently caressed my face, leaning over and taking my lips in a quick, cold kiss. It wasn't a kiss like any other that we had. Not the quick one we had before seperating for different classes, or the passionate and sensual ones when we reunite. No, it was a kiss we reserved solely for moments like these, when we totally surrendered our heart, body, and soul to our other halves. I reached down behind her cold back, squeezing her butt and causing her to hum softly in my mouth. She ran her hands through my close-cropped brown hair as she pulled my tongue deeper into her mouth, if that was possible. Her breathing quickened and she pulled away. I saw her fangs were elongated, more prominent than ever, and her eyes were dilated, taking on that animalistic quality to them. Predatorial. "Chris," She whispered into my ear. "I need you. I need my best friend inside me. Not one to disappoint her, I pushed her gently onto her back as I climbed over her and she gripped me with her legs, wrapping them around me. "Voz'mi menya." She panted, giving me a dazzling smile. "Terpeniye, Stasi." I said huskily as I bent over, gently nuzzling her breasts. I suckled and licked, making sure I circled each nipple with my tongue. Stasi whimpered and squirmed, but she loved it regardless. They were the key to her libido. Unable to take it anymore, seeing as my erection was kind of starting to hurt, I turned her over so she was on her belly. Then, I guided my throbbing cock into her entrance. She lifted her hips to give me better access and with a long drawn out moan from the both of us, I slid completely into her in one, slow stroke. She was so tight and warm and it felt amazing. Stasi's body quivered as she looked around and up at me with those big blue eyes of hers. We were together again. A respite away from the horrors of the DTOSA. We weren't a human and a nonhuman, or a human and a vampire. Just two normal teenagers celebrating a momentous occasion. Slowly but surely as to not accidentally prematurely go off, I began to pump into her. Stasi's eyes closed and then squeezed tight as she groaned, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets. I was maintaining a rhythm and tempo that I knew I could maintain for a while. Stasi was going absolutely insane, throwing everything into it and I was totally lost in des-... "Ow!" Stasi yelped into the pillow. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!" Wait... ow?! "Stasi?" I asked, immediately stopped and pulling out of her. I reached for her shoulder, pulling her onto her back. I propped myself up over her, examining her with panic and worry etched on my face. She had her eyes screwed shut and a hand clamped over her mouth, shaking uncontrollably. In a whirlpool of emotion, I brought my hand to her cheek, cupping it softly. "Stasi! Stasi, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" It took me a second to realize she wasn't shaking because something was wrong. She was shaking because she was laughing. "...Stasi?" I asked, confused beyond measure. She removed her hand away from her mouth and opened her eyes. The pair of deep crystal blue were watery with tears of pain. Clear tears, not blood. "I bith my tonguth." She moaned out adorably. "Your tongue?" I raised my eyebrows. "You bit your tongue?" She nodded her head before sticking out her dainty tongue. Sure enough, the slippery muscle that I loved so much and knew intimately had an angry red tooth mark on the end. It must've been from her front teeth. I wasn't sure what the outcome would've been if she had accidentally bit her tongue with her razor sharp fangs, but the outcome would probably be dire. I gave her a sympathetic sigh before I leaned my head down, giving her a kiss on the nose before continuing on towards her soft, cold, and full lips and taking them. Her lips tasted sweet, like strawberries, and I was absolutely addicted. What was sensual quickly became passionate, our tongues fighting for dominance. It was almost as if her pain went away. When we finally broke it because of lack of air, Stasi's face was pink. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me down to her and burying her face in my neck. "Prosti," She said sheepishly. "Oh, what could you possibly be sorry for? Biting your own tongue?" "For killing the mood," She cracked a soft smile. "Oh dear," I replied, turning my head slightly to kiss her on the temple. "Nyet. Nyet, nyet, nyet, nyet. If I had hurt you, that'd kill the mood." "You'd never hurt me," She whispered. "Not like how I hurt you." "You never hurt me either," I corrected her, tapping her on the nose. "You never do, so stop assuming you actually do hurt me. I told you, it feels amazing, knowing that i'm giving you what you need to live. It's almost like i'm a supervillain and have you totally under my control." "A superzlodey, huh?" She giggled. "Yep," I kissed her on her cold lips. "A supervillain." "Well, you may be a supervillain in your own eyes but you're my superhero." She said. My. Heart. Melted. "You can be my sidekick, then." I laughed once again, kissing her on the forehead before I guided my member back into her. Stasi gasped and then threw her head back, baring her throat to me. I quickly pounced, bringing my mouth down and sucking on the hollow of her throat as I began to quick the pace, causing my thrusts to become more and more violent. I loved the way her cold body felt away, the way her breasts felt against my chest and the way her soft belly felt pressing against me. Stasi's gasps quickly turned into grunts and she threw her arms around me, holding onto me like an octopus. "Chris," She whimpered. "I'm... need... feed?" "You don't need to ask," I grunted, laughing at her adorable awkwardness and feeling myself racing towards the brink. I didn't know why she needed to ask. I loved it when she fed. It made her feel good and it kind of made me feel good as well. Simply giving Stasi what she needed to survive... that was what made me feel good. I found myself gasping and grunting as I pounded into her, unable to hold myself back anymore. "Stasi I... I love you. I love you!" I cried, as I exploded into her. Stasi screamed unintelligibly, sounding as if she loved me back, as she reached her own orgasm and continued to grind into me before she looked up at me, her eyes completely and utterly black. Like cesspools of ink. Then, I saw a flash of her fangs and her mouth moved, aimed at my neck. "Oh!" I gasped as her fangs punctured my skin. My brain was ripped straight out of my head in a whirlpool of feeling, orgasm, pain, love. I didn't know which one to pick. The initial pain, like a needle, didn't last long, being replaced by the indescribable feeling of her feeding off of me. She wrapped her body around me and clung so tightly, I thought I was in bed with a lamia. Stasi moaned with every mouthful of blood, swallowing as much as she could. Even if she had no real control over her instincts, I knew she was in control now. She was always in control. She'd never hurt me. She loved me too much to do that. Yet, she always managed to somehow toe the borderline on too much when it came to my blood. She always said it was because it was potent, delicious, and she couldn't get enough. "A little too much there," I slurred when I began to feel lightheaded. I wanted to go for another round after all, but I didn't think I'd be able to now without a break or a quick nap. Stasi flinched. Then, she let go, her fangs not as pronounced as before. She gave a sigh of contentment before moving her mouth to mine, kissing me long and hard. She pulled away. We stared into each other's eyes, taking in the features of the other. Her irises were like the clearest blue ocean I ever saw, eyes that I just wanted to dive into and explore. I brought my hand up to her cold forehead, wiping away droplets of sweat and matted raven hair that framed her face. Her skin was flushed and she had more color, taking on that post-feeding glow that I knew would last weeks. "Beautiful," I whispered. "Spasibo, lyubov." She murmured back, equally as quiet as she wrapped her arms around me in a hug. "Oh, I love you." We wrapped the blankets around us in a cocoon of warmth. Without another word, she tilted her head forward, taking my lips in a soft kiss. I don't know why, but everytime she kissed me, my brain just melted. It stopped functioning. It was when her lips were on mine that I tended to say stupid stuff. Like now. "Stasi?" I asked. "Yes, my love?" She tilted her head. "Will you got to prom with me?" She was silent for a moment, her eyes widening and glistening. The corners of her mouth began to upturn in a smile before it faded. Her eyes hardened, turning terribly beautiful and she bared her fangs, her long, razor sharp fangs. "This is how you ask me?" She spat. "A lazy half-arsed request to go to prom with you? I can't believe you!" "Stasi..?" I asked, reaching for her. "Don't even try to take it back." She snarled, rolling over so I was facing the pale, sweaty skin of her back. I reached for her shoulder, but right before contact was made, almost as if she knew I was going to touch her, she scooted farther away from me. "Don't touch me!" A smile broke out on my face. So, the thing is, I've known Stasi ever since I was five. That meant I knew everything about her, from her bad (and adorable) habits, her (lovable) tells, just everything about her. I was still discovering things about the woman I loved to this day, but for the most part, I think I knew everything about my best friend and right now, I knew she was joking. She always wanted me to touch her. Physical contact was our forte. Without taking her words to heart, I grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face me. I was met with the most gorgeous and goofy fangy smile I ever saw. Her shoulders were shaking from the spatters of giggles that were escaping her mouth. "Knew it," I chuckled. "Took you long enough to figure out I was shuchu." She replied. "Yes, it only took me a matter of seconds," I gave her a kiss on the nose. "I know all your tricks, woman." "I know you do, but that's just one thing I love about you." She giggled. "So, are we-..?" My voice trailed off. "Prom?" She asked. "Together?" I nodded my head. "Lyubov," She cried with delight, placing her hands on my face and cupping my cheeks. "Of course, of course we're going together! Why would I ever say no? First the piano and now this? This is the best birthday ever! But, Chris, please do me one thing." "What's that?" I asked, relieved. "When you ask me to marry you, can you put a tweensy bit more effort into that?" She giggled. I promised to do just that. My vampire best friend/girlfriend was going to get the works. Chapter 7: That time, however, wouldn't last. We were so busy celebrating her birthday, commiting to school, preparing for graduation, prom, and the Governor's and School Board Meeting that we forgot one crucial event. The decision date for UCLA was coming and it was going to come soon. More specifically, it came on the next day. Once I discovered the letter checking my mailbox, I immediately called Stasi, ordering her to check her mailbox. When she confirmed that she had a letter through a tearful and hyperventilating voice, I immediately drove over to her house with the intent of opening the letters together. We owed it to each other. So there we were. We sat, back to back. We were sitting so close that I could feel every contour of her muscled back, the strap of her bra, every time she breathed, I felt it. I leaned my head back, resting it against hers. "I don't want to open it," I admitted. "Neither do I." She said, close to crying. "Mine's kind of thin. Chris, do you think it's thin?" We spun around and compared the thickness of our envelopes. University of California, Office of Admissions stared back at us. Crisp, black business letters. This couldn't be good. Wouldn't an acceptance letter be bright and happy? "They're about the same," I determined. "Aren't they? What do you think?" "I... I agree with that," She whispered hoarsely. We held the letters in our trembling hands. "I don't think I can wait anymore. The anticipation is eating me from the inside." "Agreed. Let's do open them," Stasi murmured, glad that I made the decision for her. "On three..." "Ok... one," I began. "Two..." She continued. "Thr-.." "Lyubov, wait!" Stasi whimpered, making me stop in an instant. "Please, please don't make fun of me if I don't get in. Please promise me that you won't." "Stasi," I cried. "Are you dumb? I won't ever make fun of you for something like this. Of course, I won't! I promise!" "Okay," She whispered, looking back down at the envelope. "On three... ready?" "Okay," I repeated. "One-..." "Two..." "Thr-..." I began. "Wai-.." Stasi began, but I was already tearing open the envelope in a decisive jerk. All thoughts of indecisiveness now gone, Stasi immediately followed me, the sound of ripping paper echoing around the room. With trembling hands, we picked up the letters inside, unfolding them. The bright blue UCLA logo stared back at me and my eyes roved down to the first few words: "Dear Mr. Christopher Williams Congratulations-..." Congratulations. Congratulations. CONGRATULATIONS! A smile of delight spread across my face as I realized that I got in. I dropped the letter and thrust my arms into the air, but my smile disappeared immediately upon seeing Stasi's heartbroken face. Oh no. No, no, no. God, please no! "Chris?" She whispered. "Yeah?" I choked out. She flipped her letter over so I could read it. The bright blue UCLA logo stared back at me and my eyes roved down to the first few words. "Dear Ms. Anastasia Sokolov, Congratulations-..." She dropped the letter, giving me the biggest and most brightest smile I ever saw. It was enough to split her face in two, a smile of delight that was so beautiful that it nearly made my heart melt. Her delicate face was bright and joyful tears of blood were threatening to escape. "We're going to UCLA!" She bawled, crushing me in a hug. Footsteps sounded up the stairs, loud stomping noises. Elena. My door immediately opened and Elena popped her head into the room. When she saw Stasi crying, she gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. "I'm so sorry," She whispered. "Is everything ok?" Stasi revealed her face that was buried in my chest. "We got in," She cried back. "We're going to UCLA together." Elena screamed in joy, loud enough to nearly make my ear drums rupture, and sprinted to the bed, diving onto us. All three of us tumbled onto our sides, lying in each other's arms in a massive group hug. I realized that all those workout sessions, community service hours, all nighters, studying and cram sessions, mountains of homework, shitty teachers, amazing teachers, they all culminated into this. This was going to be something that I was never going to forget for a long time. To be continued. ***** I write for you guys so you guys can enjoy my stories! Leave a comment, shoot some feedback! Send an email to my profile. I love it when you guys talk to me! It can be about my story, sports, or life! Don't be shy, send a reply... if that makes any sense. It's been a crazy school year, hasn't it? One more chapter, then I think Chris and Stasi are going to ride off into the sunset. :( Stay awesome, Holt!

     Bucky was… confused, to say the least. Steve had shown up at his apartment, he ran, got caught, there was a gap in his memory but that wasn’t a new thing, and suddenly he was being pardoned. He was no longer a criminal. They acknowledged the fact that he was forced to follow their commands, and had no control over anything that happened.        So here he was now, walking into the Avengers Compound with Steve, meeting new people and being shown around. Now, he was waiting in a conference room to meet the person that would be housing him.        As he waited anxiously, fingers tapping against his thigh, Steve watched with curiosity. Tony Stark came strutting through the door a few minutes later, mask in place. Turning towards him, Bucky mentally staggered.        He knew that face.        He knew, that face.        As he openly stared at the man, Steve turned towards him. “Bucky, this is Tony Stark. Tony, this is Bucky.”        Bucky blinked.        “I know you.”        Tony’s mask shifted, a gleam of… something… in his eyes before quickly fixing it. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t. My face is everywhere. I am THE Tony Stark, after all.”        Steve looked warily between the two. “So you know about…?” He asked, trailing off, not wanting to voice the rest of the delicate question.        Understanding what he meant, Tony nodded. “I do, and I also understand the circumstances it happened under.”        Bucky blinked again.        “I know you.”        Looking slightly perturbed Tony said, “Yes, you said that.” As Bucky dove into his missing memories, one came up that he was genuinely surprised he forgot. Right before Bucky opened his mouth to voice his thoughts, Tony subtly motioned his hand in their sign for ‘don’t say anything.’ He immediately closed his mouth and nodded minutely.        Turning towards Steve, Tony clapped his hands loudly. “Now! If I was correct, you, Capsicle, have a mission to do in what, an hour? So shoo!” And upon realizing the time, the blond rushed out of the room.        Once Steve closed the door and he was sure the man was out of earshot, Bucky voiced his earlier thoughts.        “Assistant.” Tony turned towards him, eyes betraying no emotion just like they were trained to do and replied,        “Asset.”        “I don’t go by that anymore.”        “Neither do I.”   ——————————————————————————————————————————        Over the next few weeks, the only time he ever saw Assistant- sorry, Tony- was fleeting, such as passing him in the hall. Although, it’s not like Bucky explored a lot, HYDRA and all that jazz.        So that’s why he was surprised when the ceiling lady told him that Tony needed him in the lab.        Arriving at the frosted glass doors of the lab, he hesitated before gently knocking. He heard a soft, “Come in,” before the doors slid open and he stepped inside. Eyes wide, he looked in each and ever direction, trying to take in all the impressive technology. There were holograms floating in the air, displaying different information, unfinished projects on tables, and he could see multiple suits in the far side of the room.        “So,” a voice brought out of his observing, “what do you think?” Tony said, sat on a stool, spreading his arms. Compared to when he saw him last, he was in a white tank top and grey sweats, covered in grease.        “It’s… amazing!” Bucky said, gesturing with his flesh arm. “Do we still not have flying cars?”        Tony chuffed a laugh. “No, we don’t. Dear old dad was too busy trying to find our resident fossil to do anything such as flying cars.”        Bucky only felt slight disappointment. “So, why did you call me down here?”        Leaning forward, Tony put his elbows on his knees and started, “Well first off,” he looked at Bucky with eyes shining with so much emotion he couldn’t comprehend it, “it’s good to see you, Yasha.”        Hearing that nickname brought back memories of stolen moments, ones of safety and love. “I’ve missed that name, Antoshka.”        Smiling, Tony stood and stepped to the side, revealing a hologram of Bucky’s metal arm. “So, if it’s alright with you, I’ve been working on a new arm for you. It’s causing you pain, if I remember correctly, can’t be too sure because of HYDRA, so I scanned it, and I was correct. When they connected your nerves, several of the metal plated are pinching them, and the metal connecting your arm has continuously grated against your skin, causing an impressive amount of scar tissue.” He said, motioning to various spots of the hologram.        “You… want to make me a new arm?” Bucky asked, throat thick with emotion.        “If it’s alright with you.” Tony stated nervously, fiddling with his hands, “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, I just don’t like seeing you in pain and-“ Bucky cut him off by putting either hand on his cheeks.        “You’re rambling again, Antoshka. And yes, I would love a new arm, but only if you make it. I trust you.” He stated, looking Tony directly in the eyes to get the message across. Leaning forward, he placed their foreheads together like they used to do after a particularly hard mission. “I’ve always trusted you.”        A moment passed before Tony broke the silence, laughing softly. “Well, I think that’s enough heart to heart for about ever.” Bucky huffed, pulling back pressing a kiss to Tony’s forehead reflexively before pulling fully away.        “Now, how about we get started on that arm?”   ——————————————————————————————————————————        After that day, Bucky would spend most of his time in Tony’s lab, watching as the man darted around, building a new arm. Whenever one passed the other, a hand would brush their back, or hip bump the other’s hip. They would sit closer to the other than necessary, shoulders usually touching. They would exchange glances that spoke words, and generally be with the other whenever they could.        Bucky was currently in the shared kitchen, sitting hunched over a StarkPad sifting through the news and sipping coffee, while Steve was at the stove making omelets. As Bucky took a sip of his cooling coffee, Tony stumbled in, blearily searching for something.        Clicking his tongue, he got the attention of the sleep deprived genius and held out a freshly brewed cup of coffee, which was immediately grabbed and chugged. Finishing the first cup, Tony poured another and stumbled off to what was most likely his lab.        Bucky turned his attention back to his StarkPad, when in the corner of his eyes, he saw Steve looking at him with a bewildered expression. Turning towards him, he raised an eyebrow and asked,        “What?”        Steve stumbled over his words for a moment and finally got out what he was trying to say. “He lets you hand him things.”        Pulling a confused face Bucky said in a questioning tone, “Yeah…? He always has? What’s so weird about that?”        “The only people that can hand him things are Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy.”        Bucky hummed. Breathing in, he smelled something burning and looked behind Steve at the source. “Steve, your food’s burning.” Yelping, said blonde quickly turned around to try and save the omelets, but by the time he turned back around, Bucky was nowhere to be found.        He was in the elevator on the way to the lab. Exiting, he walked through the door to the lab to see Tony hunched over his new arm. Walking over, Bucky placed his chin on Tony’s shoulder, causing the latter to laugh.        “Hey, Yasha.”        “I have a question.” Tony hummed. “Why don’t you let anyone hand you things?” Tony stiffened slightly, setting down his tools and straightened, Bucky letting out a whine of protest.        “Well,” Tony started, sitting on a nearby stool, “when I was still the Assistant, HYDRA would hand me my assignment, I would carry it out, and it would be used to kill hundreds of people, many of them innocent. It reminds me of HYDRA, I suppose.”        Not surprised, Bucky hummed to himself. “So what d’you do if someone tries to hand you something?”        “You take it first and then give it to me.”        Bobbing his head, Bucky thought for a moment, reflecting. “I do, do that, don’t I?”        Tony smiled softly. “You do. It’s very sweet.” He said, looking down. Bucky walked forward and tried to place a kiss on the top of his head, but instead of hair, his lips met other lips. He pulled back in shock and Tony immediately apologized.        “I-i’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were there I-“ and was cut off by a pair of lips on his own. He immediately returned it, eyes closing. Bucky pulled back, slightly out of breath and said,        “I also remember doing that.”        They turned back to the arm, small smiles on both of their faces. If they occasionally kissed, well, that was no-ones business.   ——————————————————————————————————————————        Two weeks went by before there was an incident.        The team, Bucky included, were all sitting in the common room when Tony subtly stiffened at a word Natasha said in Russian. They were chatting amongst each other about random subjects, when Sam asked what a word in Russian was, and Natasha replied,        “тоскующий.” (Yearning.)        Upon hearing it and seeing Tony stiffen, Bucky immediately stood, grabbed the genius, and walked out, ignoring the other’s questions and curious eyes. Stepping into the elevator, he began mumbling in Russian to the younger man.        “Не волнуйся, нас там больше нет.” (Don’t worry, we aren’t there anymore.) As he continued mumbling comforts, he led Tony into the lab and sat him down on a random stool, a’so sitting.        “С кем я разговариваю?” (Who am I talking to?)        Looking up at Bucky, Tony replied in a thick Russian/Brooklyn accent, false American one falling, “Актив?” (Asset?)        Cursing under his breath, Bucky realized he was talking to Assistant. In the back of his mind, Winter came forward for the first time in a while, gently nudging at Bucky, wanting to talk to his friend. Hesitating, his mind immediately went to death and destruction, which Winter replied with feelings of guilt. He was practically a child, and was only doing what he was told. Bucky thought for a moment, and let Winter take over, feeling that he would be best for Assistant at the moment.        Blinking as he took over, Winter looked at his distressed friend that he had not seen in a long, long time.        “Ассистент? Что не так, ты в порядке? Кто тебя обидел?” (Assistant? What’s wrong, are you alright? Who hurt you?”)        Looking up at him, Assistant had wide eyes. “Зима,” (Winter) he breathed out, putting his head against the other man’s chest. “Я скучал по тебе.” (I’ve missed you.)        Smiling, Winter put his nose in the other man’s hair, breathing in his scent. “Я тоже скучал по тебе.” (I’ve missed you too.) He put his cheek on the top of his head. “Но действительно, кто тебя обидел?” (But really, who hurt you?) He asked again, wanting to know who cause his Assistant distress.        “Вы не можете причинить им боль. Они не хотели.” (You can’t hurt them. They didn’t mean to.) He mumbled against Winter’s chest.        Pulling Assistants head back he said in a stern voice, “Это не то, что я спросил.” (That’s not what I asked.)        Sighing, he mumbled, “Наталья сказала одно из моих триггерных слов.” (Natalia said one of my trigger words.) Winter frowned. Natalia would never intentionally harm or distress Assistant in any way, unless it was absolutely necessary.        “Зачем ей это делать?” (Why would she do that?)         “Не знает.” (Doesn’t know.)        Winter hummed. “Что вы помощник, или ваши слова запуска?” (That you’re Assistant, or your trigger words?)        “Оба.” (Both.)        Sighing, Winter enveloped Assistant in a hug, placing his chin on his head. “Ты должен сказать ей.” (You should tell her.)        Assistant shook his head. “Я еще не готов.” (I’m not ready yet.)        Winter nodded. “Хорошо. Будем ждать.” (Okay. We’ll wait.)   ——————————————————————————————————————————        More time went by, and both Winter and Assistant began making more appearances, the rest of the team still in the dark.        Currently, Natasha was sitting in the Avengers living room, Clint to her left, Bruce curled up on a loveseat next to Scott to her right, Steve, Sam, and Rhodey on the couch to her left, Wanda in Vision’s lap directly across her in a chair. Thor was currently off-world doing whatever he does, and Spider-Man, who they still didn’t know his identity, was somewhere in New York.        They were watching a movie, occasionally chatting, when they heard two pairs of footsteps from the hallway.        “Ты никогда не побьешь меня!!” (You’ll never beat me!) A thick Russian/Brooklyn accent yelled, them recognizing it as Tony.        “Это то, что ты думаешь!” (That’s what you think!) Bucky’s voice responded, a thick Brooklyn accent with a slight Russian tilt to it.        The team paused the movie, and looked towards the doorway as Tony ran in, closely followed by Bucky.        “Вернуться сюда!” (Come back here!) Bucky shouted at Tony, as the latter ran into the kitchen, around the island.        “Вы должны поймать меня первым!” (You’ll have to catch me first!)        Bucky darted around the island, attempting to grab Tony, when the younger man grabbed a knife out of nowhere and stabbed his metal arm.        Surprised, Bucky ripped the knife out, and as he was distracted, Tony opened the freezer and snatched a tub of ice cream.        “Haha!” He crowed, holding his prize close. The knife whizzed past his face embedding itself in the wall, and he yelped, darting back down the hall, one Bucky Barnes following.        They listened as they heard a thump, a shriek, and more footsteps before the sounds faded away.         A minute passed as they sat in shocked silence, having no idea what just happened.        “What just happened?” Sam asked, still staring at the doorway the two disappeared into.        “I have no idea, man.” Clint said, trying to process the information.        “What just happened,” Natasha said dryly, “is Stark and Barnes aren’t telling us something.”        The rest of the team looked at her and Steve asked, “You really think so?” She simply raised a brow and he nodded. “You’re right. But what does he have to hide?”        “What, do you think he’s ex-HYDRA?” Scott said jokingly. When no-one responded, his eyebrows shot up and he continued, “Wait, really? That’s a possibility?”        Bruce nodded slowly. “Well… he did, disappear when he was two… and he came back when he was twenty-one…”        Steve looked at the doctor. “You really think he’s ex-HYDRA?”        “It’s a possibility.”        “So,” Sam started, “Rhodey? Do you know anything?”        Said person thought for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “No, but he used to disappear for a few days at a time, and no, he wasn’t in his lab. Now that I think about it, it is kind of suspicious.”        “So what now?” Scott asked, speaking to the team as a whole.        “Now,” Steve started, “we observe Tony. I suggest we subtly see what he can do.”        “How about a mandatory team training?” Clint said, throwing the idea out there.        The others nodded, liking the idea.        “Well, let’s get to it.”   ——————————————————————————————————————————        Over the course of two weeks, they would randomly drop or knock over objects near or close to Tony, and he never failed to catch the object. Once, Natasha even chucked a knife at his head, and he simply ducked and continued walking. (Bucky wasn’t very happy about that when he found out, but Tony refused to let him kill her slowly.)        Finally, the day had come. Mandatory team training.        Tony was complaining the whole way down to the training room, saying he had things to invent that just could not wait. Bucky looked indifferent, but internally, he was suspicious, as this was the first ever mandatory training according to Tony, but kept quiet.        They arrived at the gym, and Steve dragged Bucky over to spar, much to the assassin’s annoyance. Rhodey and Sam were at the punching bags, Clint was shooting targets with his bow, while Scott and Vision were throwing objects at Wanda for her to dodge and or throw back. Bruce was on the sidelines, as they didn’t want to risk the other guy making an appearance. Thor was off-world still, and Spider-Man was… somewhere. Tony was about to leave, when Natasha approached him.        “Spar with me.”        Her blunt question surprised Tony and he blinked thinking he heard her wrong.        “What?”        “You heard me,” she said, annoyed, “spar with me.”        Hesitantly, even though he knew it was a bad idea, nodded. “You’re just doing this to have an excuse to hurt me, aren’t you?” He asked as they walked over to a sparring mat.        “No, I’m just seeing what you can do.” She replied as she turned towards him and got into a ready position.        Huffing, Tony copied her, purposefully putting too much weight on his back foot, and leaving his left side exposed.        Watching each other, Tony decided to strike first. Lunging forward, he threw a wide punch at her head, which she easily deflected, returning a jab of her own. He feigned a kick to the left, and threw another punch to the right, which was easily dodged and he let Natasha’s incoming kick come in contact with his side.        “You aren’t even trying!” She snapped as she deflected another blow. “Come on, hit me!”        Tony grunted in annoyance, throwing another half-hearted punch that was yet again deflected, and was jabbed in the side.        “Move your arm up!” Jab. “Your whole left side is open!” Kick. As the onslaught of remarks and blows continued, the others stopped what they were doing as watched worriedly.        “Natasha, that’s enough,” Steve called in an attempt to get her to stop, but was ignored.        “I know you can hit me,” block, “so hit me!” And as her fist flew forward to hit Tony in the face, something inside him snapped.        He grabbed her hand before it came in contact with skin, twisted her wrist, breaking it, sweeping a leg under her all at once. As she fell, Tony jabbed her nerves and put one hand on the top and bottom of her head, ready to break it.        Right before he jerked his hands to snap her neck, a force barreled into his side, knocking him off. Reacting instinctually, he threw a punch at the person, hitting their stomach and the two began exchanging blows. Kicking the person off of him, he shot up and lunged, only to be deflected. As the two were engaged in a deadly dance, he vaguely recognized long brown hair and a metal arm, but pushed it away, focusing on his target.        As he jabbed at their throat, a voice began to break through his haze.        “Ассистент! Вам нужно остановиться сейчас же!” (Assistant! You need to stop now!) faltering slightly, he threw a slightly sloppy punch. “Освободись от этого Антошка! Вернись ко мне!” (Fight it Antoshka! Come back to me!)        As his vision cleared, he recognized Yasha in front of him, and staggered, falling to the ground exhausted.        “Прости, прости, прости,” (I’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,) he said almost like a chant. “Я не хотел! Пожалуйста, не сдавай меня на перекалибровку, я не хочу забывать, не заставляй меня забывать!” (I didn't mean to! Please don't turn me in for recalibration, I don't want to forget, don't make me forget!)        Bucky dropped in front of the distressed Tony and pulled him close, petting his hair. “Shh, все в порядке, все в порядке. Это была не твоя вина, она толкнула тебя, а ты отреагировал. Мы не с HYDRA, хорошо? Я никогда не заставлю тебя забыть.” (Shh, it's alright, it's okay. It wasn't your fault, she pushed you and you reacted. We aren't with HYDRA, alright? I'll never make you forget.) He whispered into the man’s ear, desperately trying to calm him down.        As he whispered reassurances, the others watched, struck silent. A few minutes passed before Tony spoke up again.        “Зима?” (Winter?) he asked, and Bucky hummed, immediately letting Winter take over.        “Да?” (Yes?)        “Мне жаль.” (I’m sorry.)        Winter clucked his tongue and replied, “Не твоя вина Это была Наталья.” (Wasn’t your fault. It was Natalia.)        Assistant hummed, pulling back and looking around. He caught sight of Natasha’s wrist and gasped. “Это я сделал? Я так виноват! Разрешение на помощь?” (Did I do that? I’m so sorry! Permission to help?”        Confused, Natasha could only nod and watch as Assistant stood and skittered over, kneeling. Gently grabbing her wrist, he turned it around and gently prodded it, causing her to hiss. “Закрытый перелом. Необходимо сделать ставку и поставить скобку.” (Closed fracture. Needs to be set and a brace put on.” He inspected her wrist a bit more and tugged her to her feet. “Давай, Вдова. Мы должны установить это, чтобы вы могли продолжить свои миссии.” (Come, Widow. We must set it so you can continue your missions.) He brought her over to the first aid they kept in the gym, and warned her before setting it and swiftly placing her wrist in a brace.        Satisfied with his work, he walked back over to Winter and said, “Поехали. У нас есть мороженое и вещи для постройки.” (Let's go. We have ice cream to be eaten, and things to be built.) And with that, the two exited the gym, leaving shocked and confused teammates in their wake.       “What the fuck?”

“Deku!!” Eri ran towards Deku, her smile wide. “I missed you!” She yelled as she jumped at him, knowing full well he’d catch her.    And being her hero, he did just that. “Hey Eri-chan.” Deku smiled at her with a smile that rivaled her Papa’s. “I’m going to be watching you today.” He poked her cheek, and she giggled. “If that’s okay with you.”    Her eyes widened at that, and she found herself nodding excitedly. “Yeah, that’s okay! I’ve been wanting to hang out with you!”    His smile made her feel safe. “Me too, Eri.” He told her, and she believed him.    ~    “Last time we hung out, you said you’ve never painted before.” She watched Deku pinch his chin in thought.    She did it too.    “Would you like to paint?” He turned to her, and his face turned red at her posture. “E-Eri-chan?”    She threw her hand away from her face and the force of her panic caused her to tip back in her chair. But before she could hit the ground, Deku caught her.    “H-Hey, you okay there Eri-chan?” She opened her eyes and found green ones staring down at her. His eyes looked like papa’s when Eri would cry or not talk for a while. And she faintly thought how they reminded her of Dad’s too, but in a different way.    “Y-Yeah, s-s-sorry Deku!” She pulled at her fingers as he set her down on her feet and he took a few steps back. She hadn’t realized how closed in she felt until he gave her space. She found herself staring at him, how was he such the perfect hero ?    “Hey,” Deku squatted down, he was shorter than her now. “No need to apologize. I freak out all the time too, and I’m always messing up.” His cheeks turned pink and she found herself nodding along.    He made her feel safe, and like she was okay to mess up. Usually Papa and Mirio would ask her what’s wrong or would probably still be holding her right now. But Deku was like Dad, he seemed to know what to say and what to do.    “I can go get you some hot cocoa while you think about it if you wanna paint?” He tilted his head to the door, an eyebrow raised.    She nodded. She wanted to ask for it the way Deku drinks it but in her unicorn cup, but she already felt like she had made him do too much today.    As soon as he left the room, she felt tears well up in her eyes. She didn’t know why she felt like this, she had just been fine. But now she could feel that spot in her chest that made her feel like she wasn’t actually there.    She still found herself glad that Deku let her be by herself. She trusted Deku full heartedly, but she didn’t want him around as she did the grounding exercises that her therapist taught her.    She picked up her tiny plastic chair she had been sitting in, and pushed it against the wall. She walked towards Deku’s things and there were some drawings on the floor beside his, what Deku called, Eri bag.    Deku knocked on her door, a rhythm they had decided upon when she freaked out the first time he knocked. “Eri? Can I come in, or do you want some more time.”    She wiped her tears away with her sleeves and took one last breath before opening the door. “I-It’s fine. I-I’m sorry, Deku.” She frowned at the floor.    “It’s okay.” He flashed her a bright smile. That was another thing, he didn’t always tell her to stop apologizing. “The hot cocoa is done, it’s in the dining room.” She nodded, and followed him out to the table.    “M-My unicorn cup?” She looked from the two cups of hot cocoa to Deku. Both cups had been topped with whipped cream and had cinnamon sprinkled on top. “Y-You made me the same one?” Her voice felt small, and she saw Deku pull at his fingers and bite his lips.    “A-Ah not exactly.” He grinned at her. “I added some coffee to mine, I don’t think Aizawa or Yamada-sensei would like me giving you coffee.”    “Why do you need coffee?” She sat down in front of her cup, her cheeks warm as she sipped at the drink. Deku was perfect .    “I have lots of homework to do once I’m done watching you.” He licked some of the whipped cream and she did the same.    “Why don’t you work on it here?” She thought back to Mirio-san and his friends who would come and watch movies with her while they did their homework.    “I like hanging out with you and introducing you to new things.” He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “But remember,  Eri-chan, it’s okay if you don’t want to do something.” She nodded at his serious look; which, of course, she copied.    They sat there drinking their cocoa and listening to Papa’s radio show, which she hadn’t even realized was playing from Deku’s phone, until they finished their cups. Deku washed and put them away before turning to her with a wide grin.    “So?” He leaned over the counter, and she smiled back at him. “Do you wanna try painting?” She nodded vigorously, her long hair covering her eyes. She pushed it back behind her ears and Deku nodded. “Okay, you should change into an old short sleeved shirt and a pair of old pants.”    Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. The scars on her arms hurt at the idea of having them out on display.    “Eri?” Deku swung around the counter and kneeled in front of her; concern in his eyes. “Is it okay if I touch you?” She nodded and he smiled before placing a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”    “I-I my arms.” Deku frowned and nodded. “I-I have scars.” She whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “T-T-they are ugly.” She knew what was coming next, Deku would sit her down like Papa and Dad did. They would explain how her scars weren’t ugly, they were signs that showed all she had survived.    But    But it didn’t feel right, that explanation didn’t feel right.    “Sometimes they can be.” Her eyes snapped up to Deku, he was standing up now and smiling down at her. Not with his hero smile, but his smile. “Sometimes they can feel like curses and they can make you feel like you’re sick or broken.” She nodded at his words and when he reached for her hand, she took it.   They walked into the living room, and Deku sat down on the couch before patting a spot next to him. She didn’t even remember sitting down. Deku was now sitting crisscross-applesauce on the couch, facing her. “Ho-How do you know, Deku?”    He smiled at her, his eyes looking a lot like Dad’s. It made her sad. “I have scars too.”    “From your quirk, right?” She stared at his covered arm, only a faint, fuzzy memory of seeing his scars.    “Yeah,” He nodded. “But not all of them are from my quirk.” He lifted a brow when her eyes widened. “Do you wanna see them?”    She nodded, doing her best to not cry. She hated that she cried so much, but she felt so happy. She wasn’t alone.    “Okay, but hey.” She looked back to him and he tilted his head to the side. “It’s okay to cry, don’t hold back your tears for me. I cry all the time, Eri-chan.”    She still didn’t understand how Deku knew just what to say, but he did. She nodded and sniffled a little. No tears came, but she wasn’t fighting it anymore.    “Okay, good.” He smiled and took off his school blazer, and then his tie and then his shirt. She couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped her lips as she watched Deku take off the tight black half sleeve on the top part of his arm. It had been covering a dark purple scar.    “W-What…..” She bit her bottom lip and shook her head quickly.    “You can ask questions, Eri-chan. I don’t mind.” He reassured her, his voice so kind it made her want to cry.    “How did you get that one?” She pointed to the purple one she had been staring at.    He looked to his arm, a pained smile coming to his lips. “This one was from my quirk,” He shrugged. “Before I met you, my class had a field trip. A bunch of villains came and attacked our training camp and-”    “Training camp?” She furrowed her brows. “Like the one with Kota-kun?”    Deku nodded.  “Yeah, that’s the one. It was before he liked me. I knew where he was when all the villains attacked and I went to save him.” He smiled, shyly and blushed. “Though, I barely managed to get him out. The villain was really strong and I still didn’t understand my quirk too well, so I had to use my full power to save him.” His hand hovered over the scar, his eyes looking distant. “I broke my arms over and over till he was unconscious.”    “Was he harder than him?” She thought back to the man who had her before Deku and Mirio-kun saved her.    Deku, understanding who she was talking about, shook his head. “No, he was a whole lot harder than Muscular. That was the villain’s name.”    “Then do you have any scars from that fight?” She bit her lip, scared to see how hurt he got because of her.    “Nope!” He smiled and bopped her nose. “You kept me safe. You were my hero there.” Her eyes widened at his words but he continued on. “Your quirk allowed me to keep using my quirk at full power without breaking my arms.” He gave her a head pat. “You are my hero, Eri.”    Her eyes widened with tears and she quickly wiped them all away and looked back at him. Scars and all. Without speaking, she pointed to his hand.    He smiled at that one, not like the purple one, but like it brought back happy memories. “I got this from my quirk too,” He ran a finger over the jagged scars on his hand. “It was the sports festival, and it was before Todoroki-kun and I were friends.”    “Really?” She looked from his scar back to his eyes. He nodded.    “Yeah, we had a disagreement and I have a hard time letting people deal with their own problems.” He smiled at her. “He kept sending ice at me, and I kept flicking it away.”    “Whoa!” She knew how powerful Deku was, so he took him down. But she didn’t realize how much he could do with a single flick.    “Yeah,” He chuckled and shrugged. “It actually wasn’t that cool. This was before I met Kota, so I had even less control of my quirk. I kept breaking my fingers, and then rebroke them just to keep going.”    She scrunched her face up at the thought.    “A lot of people felt like that,” He sounded like he found the idea funny. “But I don’t regret it, Sho-kun and I are friends now. And I managed to help him, just a little though.”    She nodded, it made sense. At least it made sense for Deku. Her eyes caught sight of a firework shaped scar on his shoulder, and she nervously pointed to it.    “Oh,” Deku placed a hand over the scar, and his eyes got that distant look in them again. It reminded her of when she would get stuck thinking back to him as if she never made it out, and how she couldn’t leave it herself.    She poked his cheek, and he jumped slightly before blinking down at her. She was right, he had been stuck wherever he had gotten that scar.    “I-I have a few like these.” He pointed to some on his sides and a few littered along each arm (though those were a lot lighter and harder to see). “Before I came to UA, a lot of people didn’t like me.” “Why not?” She couldn’t see people not liking Deku, he was amazing! He was funny, kind, paid attention, knew what to say, a really good cook, and he was really smart. He was also strong. But that didn’t mean much past fighting bad guys, and saving people like Todoroki-san, Kota-kun, and herself.    “Well,” Deku pulled at his fingers. “I-I was usele- um, I wasn’t important to anyone. I wasn’t strong, and I was different. ” He bit his lip and Eri knew whatever he was talking about must have been hard. He looked like she felt when she was with him.    His fingers dug into his scared shoulder, and she looked to the other ones he pointed out from before. There were some deep scratch scars and some that looked like hers.    “People liked to hurt me, and I couldn’t stop them.” Deku started to stare at his hands. “I also stopped them from hurting other people and they didn’t like that. And I wanted to be a hero, no one liked that.”    She furrowed her brows. “Why not?”    He looked back to her and sighed. “I-I don’t know.” He chuckled softly, but it didn’t seem funny to her. It seemed sad. “Sometimes people just don’t like something or are scared of something new, or change and they retaliate.” She blinked. “They attack it.” He explained.    “What about these?” She pointed to the scratches.    “A-Ah,” He frowned. “Eri, a lot of these are from people from back then.”    She frowned as well, not liking that answer. “These too?” She pointed to white lines along the inside of his arms.    Deku froze, his eyes wide. “U-um, yeah.” He cleared his throat and looked away from her as he nodded. “Yeah, these were.” He ran his thumb up and down the white lines. “These were from someone back then too.”    Eri looked down at her lap, she never knew Deku was like her.    “Do you know why I told you about these?” His voice was thick, it sounded like he was about to cry.    “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t.”    “You said your scars are ugly. Mine are too.” Her eyes widened.    “N-No! Yours aren’t ugly!” She grabbed his hand and he just smiled down at her.    “Not all the time,” He somewhat agreed. “Just like yours aren’t always ugly.” He placed a hand on either shoulder. “Everyone says they tell your story of how you survived, but that’s not all.”    “It’s not?” She stared up at him and he shook his head.    “Think about the stories you read. They aren’t just about the hero winning, you also have to read about when their family gets taken or when the hero gets hurt.” He poked her cheek gently with a smile. “Right?”    She nodded. “Scars are the same way.” He traced the bottom edges of the purple scar. “They sometimes can show how far we’ve come, but for us they also show how broken or hurt we feel. Sometimes they are ugly. ” He looked up at her and smiled. “Sometimes, but not always.”   Eri cried at that.    Maybe she asked him to look at her scars and tell her they weren’t always ugly, and cried harder when he told her they weren’t always ugly.    And maybe she asked if they could cut the sleeves off of a few of her long sleeved shirts.    And even though she knew what they talked about was important, she didn’t know it was a secret.    She didn’t know the kind of trouble and pain her hero, her brother Deku, was still in. So when Dad asked about the scars. She told him what Deku told her. She told him what he showed and how her scars were ugly sometimes. Sometimes but not always.

Toms watched uncertainly as Tommy scribbled in his notes furiously.    "Tommy," Toms said slowly. Tommy was easily startled. "You should eat something. I don't think I've seen you touch food in... well, days."   Tommy spun around from his chair, eyes flashing. "I'm not hungry Toms," he said tightly. "Anyways can't you see I'm busy?"   Toms backed up slowly, his hands raised defensively. "Hey, hey, chill out, I was just worried for you. You can eat later..."   Tommy sighed and turned back to his work, his quill scratching against the paper. Toms knew he'd been working on a plan to find Dream and Theo as soon as possible. Toms wasn't sure, but he thought he'd seen something that looked like notes to revive Tubbo. He didn't know how to feel about that.   Tommy had been lashing out even more lately, snapping and refusing to eat. But no matter how much Toms tried to help, nothing worked. Sometimes he'd hear Tommy screaming from nightmares in the middle of the night from his bedroom down the hall.   After the first time he'd checked on him and Tommy had yelled at him to get out, he'd stayed away most nights. But as much as he tried to stay useful and do as much as he could, he didn't know if it was enough. He knew he was leaving Tommy alone more and more, but he didn't know what to do.   Recently he had grown used to spending his time studying the maps in the war room to learn his way around. It was close enough to the library so that he could hear if something happened to Tommy, and he could learn more about the places on the Greater Dream Smp.   It had almost been a week now since Tubbo's death now, and only two people had come to the mansion. First had been a woman called Captain Puffy who Toms was overjoyed to see, because she looked just like his father's captain of the guard from his dimension. Tommy told him to stay away though, which made sense he guessed. It was bad enough that George and Sapnap knew about him. They had been lucky Phil was too preoccupied to notice him earlier as well.   He'd watched her try and console Tommy most likely about Tubbo's death, but Tommy had told her to leave. Thinking back to it, he really wished she'd stayed. He could tell Tommy respected her in the way he didn't scream at her to leave, only quietly telling her to go.   The other visit had been a bit more... chaotic. It had been from the guy they had seen right after they first arrived at Snowchester. Tommy had not had a quiet conversation with him.    "What are you doing here Jack Manifold," Tommy said with annoyance.    "I can go where I like, thank you!" He yelled back. Tommy just glared at him. "I came to collect my things," he continued after an intense staring match. "Now that Tubbo doesn't need me for his research I'm moving back into the Big-Manifold hotel."   Fire seemed to light Tommy's eyes in a way Toms hadn't seen in a while. "That's my hotel, it is!!" He yelled furiously. "You can't just claim it!"   "You died!!" Jack cried. "The place was totally up for grabs. And anyway, you took this mansion after Tubbo's death. How is that any different!?"   Tommy's eyes darkened and he straitened up walking over to Jack furiously. "You and I both know that this is a totally different circumstance." He leaned over to Jack so there noses almost touched. "And don't speak of Tubbo’s… accident, so lightly."   Jacks eyes widened and he shoved Tommy away from him roughly. "Get away from me!!" He yelled angrily, a hint of fear lacing his tone. "I just want to get my stuff and go back to the hotel, man!"   Tommy stared at him, his eyes narrowing at the mention of the hotel again. Then he unhooked his sword from his waist and gripped it at his side. "Just get out of here," he spat.   "You can't make me!" Jack yelled, backing up slightly as he retrieved his own sword. "I know my rights! And anyway, isn't this place technically Ranboo's now that Tubbo's dead?   "I SAID TO GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE!" Tommy roared, his eyes blazing. "And don't you EVER mention Ranboo again!!"   Jacks eyes widened saying, "You're a maniac you are!! And don't think you'll get back my hotel so easily." Then he slammed the spruce doors behind him making the lanterns on the wall swing back and forth. Tommy let out a heavy breath before turning to see Toms behind him.    "What are you looking at?" He snapped. Toms jerked back in surprise as Tommy brushed past.   "Hey!" Toms yelled after him. Just because he was upset about Tubbo didn't mean he got to completely shut him out. "At least try to acknowledge me! I want to help and all you do is shut me out!"   Tommy turned around. His dull eyes softened slightly. "I'm sorry Toms. I just want to keep you safe."   "You don't have too!" Toms exclaimed. "I've been through a massive war, one way bigger than yours. I'm not a child."   "Are you saying the wars I went through weren't hard?!" Tommy spat, his eyes widening angrily. "You never no idea what I've been through."   Toms inwardly cursed. "I didn't mean it like that!" He yelled. "I'm just saying you treat me like I'm some fragile piece of glass that needs to be protected!! Well guess what!? There's nothing left to protect me from! My mum is dead, my dad abandoned me, I fought a massive war and lost, and then I DIED!!" Toms was breathing fast. "WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAVE ME FROM!?!?"   Tommy's eyes widened and then his gaze drifted over to a window that faced the ocean. "There's much worse Toms," he whispered. "So much worse."   Toms didn't see Tommy for the rest of the day.   ......   Later that week Toms found himself roaming through the empty halls of the wooden mansion, thinking about flashes of his old life. He used to do this all the time, when Techno was on a mission and Wil was doing his king duties. Perhaps that was why loneliness didn't bother him that much. But at least there had been the guards then.    Toms sighed thinking about his and Tommy's argument. He understood Tommy, really! He knew he'd been through a lot, but he couldn't help but feel that as the elder was trying to keep him safe, he was pushing him away.   Toms walked slowly into the library where he was sure Tommy would be. He hardly ever left. But did he really want to talk to Tommy right now? He sighed. He didn't like staying upset with him.   "Hey, Tommy?" He called out, his voice echoing off the walls. This could be a very bad decision.   He found Tommy slumped against a shelf, half asleep. He jerked awake and stared at Toms with those dull eyes.   "What?" He asked tiredly.   "Tommy, I- I wanted to-" he hesitated. Was this really a good idea? He could probably still back out now. Tommy looked tired.   He never looks in a good mood anymore.   Tommy pushed the piece of white hair out of his eyes and continued to stare at Toms. He was about to open his mouth when Tommy interrupted him.    "Listen Toms, I'm sorry for getting upset with you. You're right. You've gone through so much and I didn't mean to make you feel useless."   Toms opened his mouth to say something again, but Tommy held up a hand and continued. "But, there are some things I need to do on my own. I know you've gone through a lot, and I just want to make sure that you're safe now. When I kill Dream, and get Tubbo back, you can be happy here. We both can!"   Toms stared at Tommy, frowning slightly. Something about the way he said it didn't sit well with him.    "Tommy, is bringing back Tubbo really the best option? Maybe it's better to let him rest. And what do it goes wrong? I mean, there's other people who probably care too, like Techno or Phil-"   Tommy's eyes darkened in anger and he stood up abruptly.    "Phil. Doesn't. Care about me, Toms," Tommy spat. "It was a lie, it's all a lie."   Toms glared at him. "You don't know that! Maybe you should give them another shot!"   Tommy walked over to Toms, hovering over him slightly. Toms hated the way he felt a glimmer of fear trickle down his spine.   "We can't trust anyone, ok? Look what happened with Ranboo!! Even Sam betrayed me when he let Dream kill me!" He let out a strained laugh. "They all betray me! Every single time!" Then he turned his gaze back on Toms. "Tubbo's our only shot."   "Your not LISTENING to me!!" Toms yelled, letting his anger cloud his gaze. "I thought you of all people would understand."   Tommy glared at him about to speak but Toms pushed on, letting out an angry huff. "It's always, 'Toms, it's not safe," or "Toms go away your too annoying," and "oh you're too young and too YOUNG AND STUPID!!' What if you’re wrong about Tubbo, huh?! He's been dead for like, a whole week!! That's six months!! What if he changed!? What if he wanted to stay dead!? The others on the train told me what exile was like, you don't want him like that again-"   “SHUT UP!!”   Pain flared across Toms cheek and his head whipped to the side. Toms eyes widened as he slowly raised a hand to his stinging face.   “T-Tommy?” Toms whispered, fear and shock filling his tone.   Tommy’s eyes flashed dangerously with a light he hadn’t seen before. This was not the Tommy he knew.   “Don’t speak about Tubbo like that,” Tommy said slowly, his voice low and dangerous, tightly gripping Toms and pinning him to a bookshelf.   “Y-You hit me,” Toms said softly, still in shock. Tommy was too close, too close, getawaygetaway-   Something flashed in Tommy’s dull eyes, and he pulled back slightly. “Don’t bring up any of them again,” he said darkly. “Okay?”   Toms was shaking uncontrollably. “I-I won’t,” he answered, his whole frame quivering.   What the hell-    Tommy stared searchingly at him for a few more second before letting go and shoving him towards to door.    “Just get out,” he muttered, before walking back over to his desk slowly to pour over his plans once again. Toms took that as his safe cue to finally leave and quickly walked out of the library.   His heart hammered in his chest. What had just happened!? As soon as he was out the door completely he ran as hard as he could before sinking down to the floor in an empty hallway.    Tears slipped down his cheek as he felt the red mark where Tommy had slapped him. His breaths came in quick gasps as he tried to calm himself. Memories of Wilbur leaning over him with glass shards and far away eyes flashed through his mind.   A choked gasp slipped from him and he squeezed his eyes shut. Tommy was like Wilbur. In more ways than one.   “Toms your so annoying”   He held a glass shard and whispered, “They say it’s your destiny,”   “It’ll be ok Toms, your safe,”   “We’re like brothers,”   “Just go away, can’t you see I’m busy right now?”   Tommy and Wilbur’s voices blurred together in his mind, memories shuffling together like cards. Tommy was slipping, worse than Wilbur. Toms touched his stinging cheek again. He took another shuddering breath.   Snow fell outside the window as the sun slipped past the western windows making shadows crawl towards him. A chill went up his spine and he pushed himself shakily to his feet, as fresh realization hit him.   I can't do this.

She had been warned: the infirmary was a place of suffering. Sure, it tended to be that most days of the week, particularly on Taco Tuesdays, but the bowel destruction that occurred at Camp Jupiter weekly couldn't hold a candle to the oppressive atmosphere of the hospital hallways and rooms. Upon exiting her own, Percie was immediatly faced with jostling healers, moving at controlled paces, despite the urgency of their situations. They couldn't go any faster; it wouldn't do them any good. Dozens upon dozens of legionnaires and centurions were laid up, all undergoing similar straits to Nico: their eyes were fully rolled up, and their skin had shifted into a ghastly shade of green. The eyelids trembled, and whatever they were seeing, Percie did not want to know. She got a few cautious looks as she stumbled through the crowded halls; just about every bed was accosted by at least one other person, whispering something to the afflicted demigod. Reyna's idea; as gut-wrenching as it had to be for those still conscious to keep speaking to their loved ones as if they could hear them, Percie hoped it worked. At the very least, it could provide support to the ones who still had a chance. So many... Percie had to stop counting as she made her way towards the lobby. To know how many faces would be missing when she returned to her own world... that was too much. "But you're still holding the assurances that you will return in the first place," Erebos' voice spoke up in her head. Wonderful; how long had he been there? "What else can I do?" she thought back. "Drown myself in self-pity? As... hard as this is, I still have faith in Percy, and my own friends. Even if I fail, I have a safety net under me." "But wouldn't a failure on your end leave a hole in the universe regardless? This is not your world; Percie. If you died here, this Underworld would claim you. If such a thing occurred, and Percy managed to return, we'd still have quite the problem on our hands. You'd both occupy the realm. Have you so quickly forgotten my advice to you that night? Just as there cannot be two suns in the sky, there cannot be two sovereigns over the same field. Two Percys, in the same world, would cause even more destruction than we're seeing now, with the Romans." Percie gritted her teeth. "Has anyone ever told you you're a massive killjoy?" "No one has told me anything in millennia; few have ever found me out. You are but one of a very select minority." "But others have?" A pause. "Yes... I was not always so... discreet, as I am now." The demigod mulled this over as she entered the lobby, stopping by the desk. "Is Percy okay? Are my friends okay?" "As well as can be expected, Percie," Erebos sighed in her head. "As we speak, they move to fix the situation plaguing Nicola and her equal. The idea to undo her state was an... interesting one. I wait, and watch, with anticipation." "Can... it be reversed for the others, as well? Not just Nicola?" "That... I do not know. In all my exploring of the worlds, I have seen nothing like this. We are on uncharted ground, as it were. Proceed with caution; in the absence of light, shadows thrive." More fortune cookie speak. If Erebos wasn't so enamored with his current profession as a dimension-hopping primordial, he could have made a killing in the self-help market. Percie could envision it even now: "How to Sound Smart Without Really Trying. By Purveyor of Darkness, Erebos." He'd be really big with emo teenagers, newscasters, and people with too many Ph.Ds. "I'll try to keep that in mind," she shot back, trying to shake the image of the pillar of shadow appearing on an episode of Maury, until she thought of something that gave her pause. "Um... you're strictly an observer, right?" she asked him. Like before, she got a pause. But this one lasted several seconds longer. "Yes," he finally answered. "Why do you ask?" "At the beginning of our conversation, when you were being all fire and brimstone with how Percy and I could never exist in the same world without causing some catastrophic apocalypse... you said we had a problem on our hands if that came true." "Yes, I did. And it is true. What of it?" She bit the inside of her cheek. "You said 'we' and 'our'... including yourself. I thought you didn't involve yourself in the actions of the worlds." Erebos went silent, and Percie let at least a full minute go by before she spoke again. "Uh... you still there?" she questioned. "Dude? Friend?" Nothing. "Erebos?" she risked, using his real name to his... face? Ears? Whatever he had. Still nothing. He'd left, instead of answer her question. "Always fun chatting with you, Broody Boy," she fussed, kicking herself into gear and heading for the door. The lobby was relatively quiet compared to the rest of the infirmary; probably because only one member of the Legions had been set up in there. The comatose patient was a girl; Percie guessed her to be about fifteen or so. Like the rest of the affected demigods, she was getting the same uncanny treatment with the eyes. Tangled mats of gray hair, speckled with lime green highlights, gave her a very polarizing aesthetic. Much like the other teen leaning against her side, trying her best to follow Reyna's instructions without breaking down into a mess of whimpers. The demigod-on-standby was also female, rocking some very gauche pink hair, and a pendant around her neck. From the angle she was at, Percie could make out half a Star of David. The pink-haired girl, too caught up in her emotions to continue speaking to her fallen friend, turned away, one hand unconsciously going to the religious symbol around her neck and stroking it. Doing so gave her an unobstructed view of Percie, just as the child of the sea was reaching the door. "It's you," she breathed, her exhale labored. Percie winced. "In all my helpless glory," she quipped, relaxing her hold on the door handle. "I'm... sorry. Sorry that I can't do more." "Do more... aren't we all?" her companion dejected, rising to her feet on unsteady legs. As she shot up to her full height, Percie was reminded of how baby giraffes tried to reconcile their long necks and limbs with the rest of their bodies. "Lavinia; Lavinia Asimov," she introduced, seeming to be confused about whether she should offer Percie her hand, or bow. She ended up trying to do both at the same time, which only resulted in Lavinia smacking herself in the forehead with her own outstretched palm. Percie pretended not to notice, which was hard, since she openly flinched at it, and recoiled in awkwardness when the other girl looked back up at her. "Percie Jackson," she returned, holding back a more overt reaction when she noticed the red welt appearing on Lavinia's forehead. "Are you a full-on demigod, or a legacy of a god, or-" "Demigod. My mom is Terpsichore, Muse of Dance." "Dance. Sounds... exciting." The pink-haired girl pouted. "Yeah, right up until you get to tell your dad your dream is tap, not ballet. You know, he actually walked over to the sink, filled up a cup with water from it, brought it back to me, and said to enjoy the tap after I told him that? Even when he was frustrated, he found the time for a dad joke." Percie wasn't quite sure how to respond to that; outside of keeping up with the last season of "Dancing With the Olympians," she knew next to nothing about dancing, or Terpsichore, or the Asimov family legacy of ballet. She did know that the Argentine Tango was really spicy; just about every couple ended up getting next to no points because they couldn't get through their choreography without locking lips and grinding hips. (Apollo's phrasing; not hers.) Lavinia must have caught on to Percie's ignorance, because she mercifully moved the conversation along, before Percie could imagine any more images of Ares trying to canoodle with Hygeia to an acoustic version of "I'm Sexy and I Know It." "I knew life in the Legion could be hard," she lamented, sitting back down next to the unresponsive girl, "but this? Saying good-bye is one thing; having to act like it isn't a good-bye, when it feels like one, is a whole lot worse." Percie spotted another tear going down Lavinia's face. "Someone... precious to you?" "I wish," she moaned. "Esther Belman; daughter of Melpomene, the Muse of Tragedy. We're friends but... I don't think she's into girls." "Ah. I see." The child of dance shrugged. "It happens more often than it doesn't; still... I can't shake my own feelings. Melpomene was attracted to her mortal mother for a reason; she had literally no one. Now, here lies Tragedy's daughter, with no one in camp who can spare extra time for her... aside from me." Percie's heart leapt into her throat. "That's... horrible." "Kinda Melpomene's whole thing, though. Tragedy is a part of life, as Esther likes to say. To deny it... is to deny life itself." The ominous, yet somehow slightly inspiring, line brought Lavinia's attention back to her comatose crush. "I should get back to it," she mumbled, settling down next to Esther's head. "Yeah, no problem," Percie said, twisting the doorknob in her hand. "Percie?" She stopped. "Yes?" "If you can somehow do the impossible again, and bring her back to me... I'd be in your debt." "I'll do my best... on one condition." "Name it." Percie looked the other girl in the eyes. "No debts. Doing the right thing should never come with strings attached. I'll bring her back... and everyone else. I don't know how... but if any of them do die, it won't be like this." Lavinia let that declaration simmer, before nodding. Satisfied with that, Percie stepped out into the orange glow of the California dusk. Her epic power nap, which involved an unexpected trip to Olympus, must have sucked even more hours out of her day than she had been anticipating. In fact, she'd spent nearly all of the daylight hours unconscious. If she wanted to act on what she'd learned from Artemis, she needed to track down someone who'd been in the Temple of Pluto when she first collapsed. Her choices were many, but the clarity she'd been hoping for didn't drop in as easily as she'd hoped. Hunting down Demosthenes would require manpower, but she didn't want to drag every single member of the Seven, plus Reyna and Thalia, off to the other side of the country. Atlanta was quite the journey; she needed speed. Of course, the speed she needed was not of the variety that came plowing into her as she rounded a corner of the Downtown district, right next to a tailor's shop that boasted of its ability to make a tunic that would make even Nona jealous. A little too close to pulling an Arachne there, with directly taunting a member of the Roman Fates. However, her inner-criticism of the lackluster survival skills of Camp Jupiter's unnamed tailor would have to wait. "Leo," she grumbled, staring up at the young man currently occupying her personal space on top of her. "Percie!" He broke into a wide grin, a bronze suitcase in his right hand. "Fancy seeing you here; did you come to sample some of the Forum's delightful cupcake stands? I've only had a few myself, but whatever you do, stay away from the ones with the yellow cream and white sprinkles. Those things have some kind of spice on them that'll rip your intestines a new one." "I'll keep that in mind; now, would you mind getting off of me, or do I need to call for one of the intestinal-destroying cupcakes and force it down your throat?" She said it with a smile, but put just enough force behind her voice to let the boy know she was only half-joking. Leo got the message; he scrambled to his feet, muttering various apologies, and offered her a hand back up, which was nice. She accepted, brushing off the grime he'd passed onto her shirt in their collision. "Thank you. Now, where are you going at such high speeds, you couldn't be bothered to check for beautiful daughters of Poseidon before crashing into them?" she asked. The son of Hephaestus gave her a sheepish grin. "I wanted to see if there was any unused metal being stored at the Field of Mars; I've got some really fun ideas for the war games, plus a few more just for me." That was just what the traumatized camp needed; an unstable war machine going on a rampage. Nice to know Lea hadn't lost any of her complete insanity when the swap happened. Crazy could be good... in small doses. But Lea didn't believe in small anything. "Looks like you got Festus back," Percie noted, gesturing at the briefcase Leo was holding to. "Yep. Right where Jason said to look. He didn't give you guys too much trouble on the way, did he?" "Festus? No; he was an angel. Showed a great in-flight movie... kept the turbulence to a minimum... got involved with an aerial dogfight with a cursed bird of omens. Five stars; ten out of ten. Would recommend to a friend." Leo narrowed his eyes at her. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not. That's surprising; I can usually read Percy's snark like a book." "I have a feeling the only book you've ever read is sitting on your bed somewhere, forgotten and abandoned, with a bookmark on the first page, still waiting to even get started." He chuckled. "That obvious?" "Only to me, Valdez. Only to me." As fun as lightening the mood with witty banter was, Percie knew she was only keeping the conversation going so she could put off her hunt for a very specific member of the Seven. Leo's arrival meant he, Calypso, and Piper had arrived after concluding their drive to San Francisco from the Grand Canyon. Since Percie was out for the count, she'd missed their reunion with the others. With Festus in his hand, Leo had unknowingly given Percie her preferred method of reaching Atlanta. Zeus might now be aware of her presence, but surely the King of the Gods would put aside his grievances with Poseidon and Percy for long enough so she could stop the world from falling apart? Right? She hoped she was; otherwise, Erebos' warning of Percy undoing the swap, only to end up leaving both of them in this world, just might come true. "I know you guys probably aren't feeling very well-rested, making a drive like that, but..." she exhaled at her own forwardness, "... I think we're going to need Festus again. Soon." Leo's face fell. "Let me guess; more spelunking around, fighting angry constellations and vengeful snake women?" "No." "No?" "No; this time, we'll be fighting long-dead generals, and irritable Georgia residents." "Oh. That's so much better," Leo deadpanned. "Whose bright idea was this, exactly?" Percie caught him up on her dream, and the conditions of everyone in the camp. Leo looked sick as she finished, but ended up hugging Festus to his chest with a defeated expression in his gaze. "Yeah, I'd say that warrants action," he admitted. "And you're right; Festus could get you, and three other people, to Atlanta safely without taking up too much time. I just hope all this constantly flying around doesn't wear him out too much." He looked so despondent, Percie couldn't stop herself from blabbing out her next few words: "You can come, if you want." Leo's eyes flashed. "I... can? You're actually picking me... first? That's never happened before." Ouch. He probably didn't intend for that to sound so depressing, but still. "Yeah," she reaffirmed, hoping she wasn't condemning herself to hours of charcoal scrubbing later. "You and me, plus two more. I want a numbers advantage against Demosthenes, but we can't drag everyone away from the situation here. Festus, being limited in his carrying capacity, means we won't have to." The son of the forge blinked, clearly coming to his own conclusions. "So... we still need to pick two more. Did you have any ideas, or can I make some sugge-" "Fine; we'll take Calypso," Percie interrupted. Leo blushed, and grinned even wider. "Thank you," he gushed, wrapping both his arms around briefcase-Festus. That left her... with one. A part of her screamed that it should be Annabeth; she'd only just reunited with the daughter of Athena today, and had already managed to sour it between them with her comments about Luke. A dangerous trip to Atlanta could be just the sort of emotional outlet where they could sort out their argument positively. Another voice screeched for her to pick Reyna; the praetor could kick some serious ass if she needed to, if seeing Rey fight was any indication, and her ability to share her power with groups made her an even more attractive choice. But she couldn't go with either of them. Reyna had looked completely spent the last time she'd talked to Percie; the daughter of Poseidon throwing her own regrets back in her face had not helped matters. Both she, and Annabeth, needed some time away from Percie. Looping them into this mission to Atlanta might prove more disastrous than not. With them out of the running, there was one viable option left; while plenty of the demigods gathered in Camp Jupiter were capable in more than one way, she needed someone who could provide with her some sort of emotional buffer. Both Leo and Calypso had some rather... heated history, with the child of the sea. The Titaness had delivered a curse via aria back in Tartarus, after all. Even with Leo, she could still be harboring some unpleasant grudges. And as for Leo himself... as much as she loved him, and his wackiness, she knew how tense things had gotten between her and Lea after the latter returned from Oggyia. The daughter of Hephaestus had made it clear that she wasn't holding any ill will towards Percie, especially after she'd apologized for forgetting about Calypso, but Percie found it hard to just accept that. She'd seen the moments; the instances where Lea got surprised by someone, and flinched. Her treatment at Gabe's hands had made her a lot more aware of other abuse survivors; if she ever gathered the courage to bring it up to Lea, she'd need the right people by her side. Leo stared at her, still waiting for her to decide on their fourth adventurer, and Percie realized she'd been glaring at a spot past his head for the last several seconds. "Follow me," she mumbled, weaving around him and trudging through the streets. "I think I know where he'll be right now." She found Frank Zhang exactly where she thought she would; right outside Nico's room at the temple. Annabeth had told her the praetor had installed a rotation of food and supplies to be delivered to Will at regular intervals; Percie knew Frank, and Faith, well enough to know that both children of Mars would be overseeing it themselves. She wasn't surprised to find Hazel clinging to his side, either. The surprise, though, was finding Reyna waiting with them as well. The daughter of Bellona stiffened at seeing Percie, but didn't otherwise react. A mercy, really. "Percie. Leo," Frank acknowledged, his sturdy frame noticeably frazzled. "Glad to see you up and walking again," he directed at Percie. "No thanks to Leo here," she joked, giving the smaller man a slap on the back. "Nearly trampled me out in the city; something about evil cupcakes, from what I could gather." "Two words I never thought I'd hear used in conjunction, but here we are," Frank returned, letting a small smile play across his face. "Leo, I hope you're not expecting warm welcomes from the rest of us; unless I'm mistaken, there's an entire queue of people looking to punch you for dying and disappearing like that." "And I'm first on the list," Hazel added, making a fist and pounding it into her palm with a determined smack. Leo leaned backwards, clearly not excited by the prospect. "A shame, then. See, I don't think I'll be sticking around long enough for that queue to get ramped up." Reyna arched an eyebrow at that. "Oh? And where are you headed off to so soon?" The child of the forge looked to Percie for the explanation; at this point, she just needed to assume all necessary exposition was going to come from her lips. This had to be the twentieth time, at least! Sure, most of that was because all the exciting things were happening to her, but that didn't make it any less annoying. Maybe she should make a brochure; fill it with all the relevant things people would need to know on meeting her for the first time, and add in some pages whenever new info got leaked. That way, her new friends could fill themselves in at their leisure, and she could focus on more important things; like her mom's cookies, or not going a single semester without getting magically abducted. Nevertheless, she played her role of recounter of background information once again. She got a number of concerned looks when she revealed that the Olympians knew about the swap with her and Percy now, but no one said anything out of turn, so she could finish without interruption. Once she did, Reyna jumped right in. "Atlanta? To track down our Demosthenes?" The child of Bellona frowned. "I'm not saying it's a bad idea; I just want to know why you're wanting Frank to go with you." "Well, I can't take Will, due to Nico's condition," Percie argued. "I don't want to separate Jason from Thalia right now, Piper is exhausted from driving straight here from the Grand Canyon, Annabeth's mad at me... and so on," she concluded, hoping the praetor didn't ask her why she wasn't up for consideration. Reyna didn't, but Percie could tell she wasn't sitting right with it. "Percie... as much as I know Frank can help, New Rome is in a very tight place right now. I'm reluctant to spare my co-praetor at a time like this." Frank chewed on his top lip. "Well, we can't exactly convene a Senate meeting right now to discuss it; half of the Senators got hit by the same thing affecting Nico. The others are tending to them. Jason is technically the augur, but I doubt he'd be happy making a call like that himself. Especially if we're divided on it." "Frank... are you saying you want to go?" She got a nod. "I know it's poor timing, but consider our options. With most of the Legion completely exposed, we need as much muscle as we can spare here at camp. However, we can't whiff out on our selection for the trip to Atlanta, either. Demosthenes is no joke; Sulla and Marius will be serious obstacles, as well. Their petty feud launched Rome into its very first civil war. Heck, Sulla revived the dictatorship over the republic once he declared victory. What's going to stop him from attempting something similar with New Rome, if we don't put an end to him now?" Hazel grimaced at her boyfriend's speech. "Long dead Roman rulers coming back to life and trying to reform the Empire... sounds like a sequel that could only end with tragedy of all kinds." She took Frank's hand. "If you want to go... I won't try to stop you. If anything, a praetor of New Rome putting an end to a revived Roman consul seems oddly fitting." They shared a quick kiss, before turning back to Reyna. "If you still aren't convinced, we could always try to find someone else," Hazel continued. "Though I don't know who you'd suggest." Percie had a unique choice come to her head. "If she agrees, I could suggest Lavinia. Who knows; maybe she'll prove herself in a big way, and end up as a centurion?" Reyna shivered. "The day Lavinia Asimov becomes a centurion is the day I renounce my title as praetor and commit myself to a life of chasing foxes." The praetor tossed wary glances at everyone, before looking back to Frank and Hazel. "Very well. Frank, you won't see any objections from me." Leo buzzed with excitement. "Perfect; I'll go give Calypso the update. Though Festus will probably need a few minutes of tinkering; I'd hate for him to fall apart mid-flight because I didn't loosen something in time." He dashed out of the temple, leaving Percie longing for the days of riding in the skies with just Annabeth and Blackjack. It had only happened a few days ago, but already felt so far away. "Can I ask why all three of you are here, gathered outside Nico's room?" she asked the Romans once Leo had gone. "I know there's a rotation up, but three seems... excessive, especially when both praetors are here." She got three regretful looks. "Percie... remember how you volunteered Plu- Hades, I mean, to have a look at Katoptris?" Hazel reminded her. Oh. "Is he here?" Frank gave her a slow nod. "Yep. Terminus gave us the heads-up; he's been in there, with Will, for at least twenty minutes now. There's been no worrying sounds coming through, but I'm still uneasy about it." "Who knows what he might hear from his other self?" Hazel disdained. "My father isn't always the most... extenuating of gods. Since he technically can't do anything on his end, either, odds are good he won't be in a decent mood for a while." Percie absorbed this, not liking some of the implications. "So... guess that means we'll have to do without Katoptris on this trip, then." "Exactly," Reyna put forward. "I don't think Pluto will try to keep it for himself, but he'll probably stay in there and speak to his other self for hours. We won't be seeing the Mirror for some time soon. I only hope Will doesn't end up getting himself into trouble in there on top of it." Strangely, Percie did not share in her worries. Will actually seemed to get along with Hades for the most part; he did invite the two boys to dinner more than once. Whether that was because he got lonely during the spring and summer months, or he just really approved of Nico's relationship with the son of Apollo, she couldn't say. Regardless, Will was probably at the bottom of the god's list of demigods likely to get caught up in his rage at an inappropriate time. Percie herself, though, was probably hovering around the top five on that list; right after Houdini, and before Thomas Lynch. And at least she had her team; with Frank agreeing to meet them out on the Field of Mars in thirty minutes, Percie left the trio to their posts, hoping that the conversation Pluto was having with himself proved at least helpful to the god. Actually... if her Pluto was in his Greek form when the deity made the connection... what were the odds of the two opposing sides bickering with each other before they were able to discuss anything? Assuming nothing got blown up in the conversation, she might have just put Hades in an even sourer mood than he'd already been in, thanks to Nico's situation. "Please... please let Pluto get Pluto," she begged to no one in particular. "We have enough problems as is." She got no sign that someone had heard her, which wasn't very comforting. As Percie trekked towards the Field of Mars, trying not to get bogged down by the very empty city, she felt a nagging sensation spring up in the back of her head. Like... some annoying little fly was buzzing around her ears. She brought up a hand to smack it away, but felt nothing. Thinking nothing of it, she tossed it from her mind, refocusing her attention on her destination, and the task at hand. Perhaps if she hadn't been so dismissive, she might have caught it; a very small white bump popped up along her scalp line. It was nothing... to her, anyway. But for Percy? That one little bump... was only the start of a confrontation he'd never forget.

Lexa entered the school gates. She wasn’t nervous, or self conscious. She was accepting of the stares a new student received on their first day. She didn’t feel out of place in her two sizes too big shirt or in her shorts which required her to tie the drawstring tightly enough that the short band didn’t sit smoothly on her waist. Nor did she feel uncomfortable with her messy loose ponytail. She could tell without making eye contact with her fellow students that she was already the odd one out. But her care factor in regards to fitting in and looking to make friends was zero. Such is the life of a foster kid. She found a seat to park in and pulled out a book to read Terry Goodkind - The Wizards First Rule. It was one of her favourites, and she most definitely agreed with the book’s philosophy “ People are stupid; given the proper motivation, almost anyone will believe almost anything. Because people are stupid, they will believe a lie because they want it to believe it’s true, or because they are afraid it might be true.”   Having learned the quote the hard way through experience. She sighed, only having read a couple of pages, putting away the book as the school bell rang signalling the start of the next six and a half hours of boredom. She mentally berated herself for stupidly choosing to read a book, as she wandered the halls lost as she searched for her classroom. She was late and while she knew she would always be the odd one out, that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to stand out from the crowd or attract attention. In fact, if Lexa had her way she would live in her own corner of the world by herself where she didn’t have to deal with people and the nuances that came with it. She was safe in her solitary. When Lexa eventually found her classroom, she knocked on the door before letting herself in. Her eyes landed on the teacher whose desk was the first thing one saw as they entered the room. She was dressed in light blue and white sneakers, dark blue khaki pants that seemed more practical rather than fashionable, and a white collared polo shirt. If she hadn’t been sitting at the teachers desk Lexa might have believed this woman was an older student for how casually dressed she was. Sky blue eyes framed by just above the shoulder locks of blonde hair met her own.  “You must be Lexa Woods.” Her husky voice asserted. It was not a question. Lexa nodded regardless. The teacher gestured to the students and desks in front of her. “Welcome, you can call me Clarke. Please take a seat, anywhere is fine.” Lexa turned to look at what was available, her eyes zooming immediately towards the back row. The far back right corner desk was the only one free. She made a beeline for it. She pulled out a blank notebook and looked ahead as Clarke stood up and began speaking. Tuning the content of the teacher's words out, Lexa scrutinised this woman. Usually Lexa wouldn’t give another person let alone a teacher a second thought. However, within less than two minutes of meeting her new teacher, she was off center by how casual and familiar she appeared from her choice in clothing to introducing herself by her first name. Lexa could tell right off the bat that this class would not be so monotone and boring as she’s used to. She slowly took in the classroom. Taking it in for the first time. Her assumption about this not being a standard class being confirmed as she took in a couple of tall large cabinets on the left side of the wall, covering the windows to the outside world. She noticed the space between the cabinets and the desks was quite large, and that the teacher’s desk was pushed up against the left wall at the front of the room with the whiteboard off center more towards the teachers desk on the wall. What seemed the most strange thing Lexa observed was that no other student had a textbook out, only their notebooks. Isn’t this supposed to be an English class? Lexa had been so lost in her own thoughts and confusion that when the low sound of  heavy rock music starting to play, made her jump slightly and look for the source of the sound. The offending noise was playing from a portable bluetooth speaker on the teachers desk. The students were silent. Lexa wished she had paid attention to what Clarke had said since now she was clueless to what was going on. The vocals to the song were growled but coherent. The harsh sound of guitar rifts and heavy percussion oddly soothed her. When the song finished playing. Clarke reached over to her phone. Straightening up, the teacher addressed the class again. “English, the primary language that this country uses to speak and write. What is your definition of English?” The blonde paused, waiting for a volunteer to express their opinion. It came in the form of a dark brunette who wore a red jacket over a pair of jeans. “Too hard to know the two differences between geese and goose or your monkeys and you’re a monkey.” The class snickered. Lexa mentally nicknamed her Sassy Brunette. She expected Clarke to gently reprimand the girl for her cheek. Instead the woman smirked mischievously as her eyes roamed across all the students, before she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a banana and tossing it at the girl saying “A banana for our resident monkey.” who without missing a beat began to peel and eat it. The blonde paused for a second or two before continuing “As Ms Raven Reyes has so cleverly pointed out, English can be grammar, vocabulary and syntax.” Clarke had Lexa’s undivided attention now. Her style of teaching was relaxed, unconventional  and yet engaging. So different from the usual ‘ Please turn to page blah blah blah and review it. ’ A student wearing goggles on his head raised his hand, and Clarke nodded her head at him. “Clarke, can you play music again. You have good taste!” His hand forming the features of the heavy metal symbol. The blonde let out a hearty laugh. “Mr Jasper Jordan. Believe it or not I didn’t play music to drown out the teenage angst that stifles this classroom.” The class chuckled at her. “English like any and all languages is nothing but a form of communication with it’s own grammar vocabulary and…?” The class as a whole finished the rest of the sentence “Syntax.” Clarke had a playful tilt on her lips. “Does anyone know what communication is?” A different student answered, and the blonde woman responded “Mhmm, a message that is sent from the sender to the message that is received to the receiver. Which to point out the obvious is the reason for language.” The woman looked at her watch on her right hand. Lexa made a note Clarke was left handed. “Your assignment due at the end of the week is the different forms of communication and the variables that affect the intended message in relation to the interpreted message that is received.” Lexa wrote down her assignment as the bell signalling the end of the class rang out.  As Lexa left the class room and walked down the hall, she thought to herself ‘ Well, that was certainly different. ‘ A girl's laughter rang through her ears and an amused voice replied “She certainly is different.” Lexa hadn’t meant to voice her thought aloud, but it was something she did frequently. She turned to find a curly light haired brunette smiling at her and Lexa shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. “Don’t worry, everyone loves Clarke. It’s nice to be treated like a person instead of just another statistic. I’m Costia by the way.” She took an offered hand, shaking it and simply said, “Lexa.”  After such an unexpected and lively class, Lexa’s next class was downright sleep inducing if it weren’t for the quiet sniggering from other students. With her being the hot topic of course. Look at what she’s wearing. She looks so ratty. Or Steer clear of this one, she looks like she has issues. She felt something hit the back of her head. She internally groaned but gave no outward response. That’s what they wanted - a reaction. Dude, what did you do that for? I bet she could kick your ass! Lexa could not describe the relief she felt when the lunch bell rang. It’s not that she cared about the things the other students had said or the attempts at taunting her. She just wanted to escape the world even if it were for a brief period of time. She wandered around the school grounds looking for a secluded area preferably outside. She had no such luck and found herself in the school library. She asked the librarian for the direction of the study rooms and thanked her before heading off to where they were pointed at. Opening the only study room door that didn’t have the sign occupied showing, Lexa arched a brow at the sight of Clarke spread out on her back on a bean bag apparently taking a nap. Just what sort of teacher was this woman? Was that even allowed? She exhaled a long breath. It was irrelevant she supposed. She was not going to find her solace in any of the study rooms and chose the closest table to the door. After all, she’s wasted enough of her lunch hour. She had a book she wanted to read. Putting in her ear buds, she pulled out her phone and turned on the music, and opened her book. Finally, her escape. Her relief transformed to startlement when a hand was placed on her shoulder unexpectedly. She spun her head around to look at the offending person who almost made her crap her pants. Lexa was met with Costia’s timid smile. Behind her stood Sassy Brunette, and another girl with dark blonde hair she hasn’t had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting yet. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” Costia started, “This is Raven and Anya.” Raven flashed a charming smile, while Anya gave a small wave accompanied by a scowl that sent mixed signals to Lexa. “Hi.” Was all she said in response. She didn’t know why they were here or why they were even talking to her. She waited patiently to find out. Raven grinned slapping Costia on the back. “Wow Cos, you really weren’t kidding when you said amazing green eyes here wasn’t a big talker’”  Costia flushed a brilliant shade of red, and Anya with the same scowl on her face, obviously wanting to save the other girl from further mortification said “What big mouth here means, is that Costia wanted to see if you wanted to sit with us?” Lexa didn’t know which to be astounded by more. The fact that Anya could be so nice, while holding a ‘piss off or i’ll punch you’ expression or the fact the trio wanted to invite her to their group. In her contemplation, Costia shifted from foot to foot nervously drawing Lexa’s attention to her. She decided to put the girl out of her misery and plastered on what hopefully looked like a genuine smile and nodded “Sure.” She said, and the trio plopped into the seats surrounding her table. Turning her phone off and putting her earbuds and book away a loud breath was heard, causing Lexa to turn to its source. Clarke was now stretching showing some of the smooth skin of her waist before rolling onto her side. Lexa looked at the three girls in front of her. “Is she always like that?” “Clarke is freaking awesome dude.” Raven said and then lowered her voice to almost a whisper “You’ll be hard pressed to find a student who doesn’t love her, or her…” She gestured to her breasts. Anya punched her arm in response but didn’t say anything and Costia giggled at Raven’s antics. “She let you call her and everyone else in the class a monkey.” Lexa said blandly still not believing the balls this girl had, or the blonde leniency for it. Costia’s jaw opened, and Anya’s scowl morphed into a slight smirk. The red jacket girl laughed “Yeah, that was awesome too. She believes kids will respond better if she engages them on their level. So unless we do something to intentionally offend or upset someone she goes with the flow. Besides, I got a free banana out of it.” Maybe Lexa’s eyes were deceiving her, but she swore Anya’s eyes softened slightly as the dark blonde retorted “You are a banana.” Raven just batted her eyes at Anya. “So did you change schools or did you move here?” Costia asked her. Lexa shifted uncomfortably, she didn’t feel comfortable talking about herself or the fact she was in foster care, but she didn’t want to lie or be rude. She settled with “I changed schools. Transportation is easier.” Lexa translation: The walk a much shorter distance. “How are you liking it so far?” Costia fired the next question. How was she liking it so far? Lexa didn’t know. Very rarely did she ever feel happy or enthusiastic about anything. The concept of liking something was foriegn to her. Lexa was accepting . Accepting was very, very different from liking.  “It’s too soon to tell. It’s only my first day.” She pointed out, deflecting from having to analyse her emotions. Raven rolled her eyes and said probably more loudly than she intended “Girl! You need to loosen up. Getting you to talk is like pulling teeth!” “Girls,” an amused husky voice interrupted the trio. “I hope you’re not scaring the new student away.” Lexa looked to see the twinkling blue eyes of Clarke looking into her own. The blonde continued, shifting her gaze to fondly look at the other girls. “Lexa, don’t let the trio of terror scare you.  “We would never!” Raven exclaimed indignantly. Clarke chuckled, “Just like you would never call me a monkey right?” Costia laughed, inserting “Recording or it never happened!” “Clarke!” A new voice called out coming from a woman with dark hair and green eyes. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Please don’t tell me you decided to take a nap again.” The blonde flashed the unknown woman a brilliant smile and mimicked Raven’s words. “O, I would never!”  Costia leaned closer to Lexa and whispered “That’s Clarke’s best friend, Ms Blake. She teaches PE, and Mr Blake is her brother, he teaches history.” The woman now known as Ms Blake, was undoubtedly familiar with Clarke’s antics as she rolled her eyes snapping “We’re late!” and grabbed the blonde’s upper arm dragging her off with Clarke calling out a quick “Bye girls! Be good!” Lexa sat stunned. What the hell just happened. Anya with her scowl firmly back in place shrugged it off saying “You’ll get used to it. They’re always like that. What classes do you have next?” Lexa pulled out her timetable. “Double free period. I think I’ll just go home.” Going ‘home’ sounded very desirable. There was way too much excitement and energy around for her. She was tired already. They said their goodbyes with Costia adding quietly “Don’t be a stranger.” Lexa stopped by the office to sign herself out after the admin confirmed she did in fact have a double study period before heading home. She tightened the drawstrings of her oversized shorts before putting in her ear buds to listen to some music for the walk home. When she got home, her foster mother Indra was sipping on a cup of tea reading the paper. She looked up and asked “How was school?” Lexa took her shoes off as she said “It was fine.” “Just fine?” Indra prompted.  “Yes. The kids seemed nice. The teachers are nice.” Nice was such a polite word. Nice meant that there was nothing occurring to upset someone. It didn’t necessarily reflect whether or not one liked the subject. “I have an assignment due at the end of the week.” she said as she made her way to her bedroom. She heard Indra sigh as she closed her door. As a foster kid Lexa had been rather lucky. She knows there’s a stereo type of ‘foster kids are abused all the time’. She supposed there were reasons for that belief. Though none she had experienced herself. The worst thing she’s experienced was the number of inconsistent placements she had. Indra is supposed to be her carer until she’s of legal adult age. But Lexa didn’t expect to last that long here. She never has before so why would this be any different? She pulled out the assignment Clarke had given, and it only just occurred to her how much depth and insight this assignment actually required. So different from the lady who designated it, who came across as rather unorthodox, carefree and playful for a teacher. She better get to work. The sooner she finished it. The sooner she could look forward to more reading and music time. Keeping her eyes closed, Lexa rolled over and turned off the offending noise that was her alarm clock and rolled over onto her back. It was time to get up for school. That meant she first had to get dressed and face Indra for breakfast. Mentally sighing, she got out of bed and began to get dressed. Throwing on a sports bra over a loose fitting tank top and a another pair of shorts that were again too big for her. Lexa left the sanctuary of her bedroom. Indra was in her usual spot, and as habitual raised her eyes from what she was reading and greeted “Good morning Lexa.” Indra appeared to be nice. There was that polite word again. Nice. She was a darker woman with short black extremely curly hair and had a permanent shrewdness that showed through in her dark eyes. She worked night shifts as a security guard, but always made sure to stay up to see Lexa eat breakfast before tucking in to bed. Indra had tried to convince Lexa to go clothes shopping with her, but Lexa stubbornly refused, she hadn’t explained that she didn’t want to feel indebted to the woman. Especially if this were only going to be a temporary arrangement. “Good morning.” She greeted back. Indra’s eyes roamed over Lexa’s form. Her eyes softened for a second before she gestured to the bowl of fruit salad on the table. “Eat.” She commanded gently. Lexa moved to do as she was asked when Indra cleared her throat, “Do you want a ride to school before I go to bed?” Lexa kept her eyes on her fruit bowl. “No, thank you.” “Would it be easier for you if we got you a bike?” The darker woman asked. Lexa lifted her eyes to meet Indra’s. There was an expression in them she couldn’t decipher. “No, I’m fine. Thanks though.” She said.  Indra nodded, moving to stand she took her coffee cup to the kitchen sink. “I hope you have a good day at school.” Lexa didn’t think she would have a good or bad day at school. It would be whatever it would be. She had no expectations. She finished her breakfast and headed out the door. Lexa Woods did not like to repeat her mistakes. So this time she located where her history class was. It turned out to be on the opposite side of Clarke’s class. She saw through the window in the door that the blonde was leaning over her desk, writing some notes on paper.  A dark shaggy haired man broke her line of sight and opened said door. “Bell! Learn to knock would you?!” The blondes raspy voice exclaimed. The man gave a soft laugh, “Sorry Princess. I thought I would show my self preservation skills by delivering you coffee.” As he moved towards her, Clarke spotted Lexa and called “Come in!” Lexa didn’t want to come in. Lexa certainly didn’t want to be the center of attention. She didn’t like the energy of large crowds. But being in a larger crowd, the less likely she was to be called out like this. She went in anyway. The man’s dark eyes looked at her and a welcoming smile was on his lips. Clarke had a bright smile that made the man's own one seem non-existent in comparison. Today, Clarke was wearing a tie dyed shirt, a black unbuttoned cardigan, long flowing reddish brown pants and some sandals that almost made her look like a hippy. “Good morning! Ms Lexa Woods, this is Mr Blake, our history geek.” Causing him to scoff. “Ms Woods is a new student here and has already made friends with the T.T.T.” She informed him.  The confusion and awkwardness Lexa felt must have shone through because Mr Blake placed a hand on her shoulder in what she guessed was supposed to be a comforting manner, saying “Costia, Anya and Raven. The Terrible Trio of Terror. Not sure why you classify Costia as a terror? I swear Clarke, you need to learn some professionalism.”  Lexa didn’t reply, instead opting to shift her weight, causing the man to remove his hand and the blonde refused to acknowledge the question with a response, choosing to give him a light push towards the door saying “Don’t you have a class starting in like ten minutes that you need to prepare for? Thanks for the coffee!”  When the man left, Lexa averted her eyes to the floor, as she was overcome with a sense of being constricted. “How did you find yesterday?” Clarke asked her. Lexa’s anxiety heightened the longer she was left alone with this woman's undivided attention. She was getting frustrated. Lexa didn’t know why she was feeling overwhelmed. She shivered in response, and felt warmth envelope her as Clarke obviously mistook her shivering for being cold, and had removed her cardigan and placing it over her shoulders. “Hey there Green-Eyes,” The teacher's husky voice said to her. “Are you alright?” She needed to leave. “Costia and her friends are nice.” She answered, so she didn’t appear to be rude. Nice. She supposed they were nice. If they were nice, then what did that make Clarke? “I should go, I have Mr Blake and I need to get my history book.” and without waiting for a reply or looking to see a reply she left the classroom. She made it back just in time for the bell to ring, and immediately felt comforted by being in a crowd again. Sure, she stood out because of her demeanor, and clothes. But again, the chances of being called out were significantly reduced. Mr Blake’s classroom was set up very differently from Clarke’s. Rather than desks, there were tables. His classroom plainly encouraged either group work or group discussions.  Her discomfort returned.  Lexa preferred to work in isolation. It’s not that Lexa had social anxiety, or had issues with speaking up when required. She just preferred to remain isolated. Isolation and solitude were much better words. It was a choice to remain separated from other people. The word alone implied an emotional absence of others, and Lexa never felt alone. It seemed that seats weren’t assigned in this class either, and she chose an empty table hoping no matter how unlikely no one would pick her table to sit at. Her hopes were dashed as someone slid into the seat next to her. It was Costia and only Costia. Costia didn’t seem so bad. She offered the other brunette a small smile in greeting. “Raven hates this class, and this is Anya’s free period. Personally I think it’s because they’d rather spend the morning making out with each other.” Costia shared. Lexa was very rarely surprised to this extent. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from widening or her mouth from dropping. Sassy Brunette and Miss Badass? She couldn’t picture it. Costia gazed at her intently “That doesn’t bother you does it? That they’re together?”  Lexa shook her head, and quickly tried to clarify “No, I was just surprised that they were together. Not that they’re gay or bi.” Relief was evident on Costia’s face, and she bit her lip. “What about you?” “What about me?” Lexa asked. “Are you bi, or lesbian?” She asked. Lexa wasn’t entirely sure. She’s never dated. She didn’t feel uncomfortable thinking about it. Lexa simply disliked the fact she hadn’t spent time being certain about that part of herself.  She never really thought of the male physique as being attractive. But she’s definitely looked and appreciated the feminine traits more. “I like girls.” She said simply as Mr Blake began speaking. Turning to face him, she was ignorant to the shy smile curling on Costia’s face. Mr Blake’s class was boring. She had no interest in watching Brad Pitt’s movie Troy. Why was such a movie even allowed to be part of the syllabus? It was based upon true events. Meaning three quarters of it was dramatised crap and one quarter might actually be true if you were lucky. The rest of the school day was a blur of complete boredom. At lunch she had managed to steal a study room for some much needed solitude that she spent reading in. It was only when Lexa Lexa was about half way home did she feel unusually hot. She realised she still had Clarke’s cardigan on. A pit formed in her stomach at the thought of having to face the woman alone again. The thought of returning it in front of other people though, was less preferable. She turned around. When she reached Clarke’s classroom she found the woman leaning back on her chair, balancing on it’s two back legs with her feet on the desk. She was twirling a pencil in her hand, her head tilted back and her eyes on the ceiling with an uncharacteristic frown on her face. She knocked on the door and opened it, startling the blonde so much she lost her balance and fell flat on her ass. Lexa stared at her as Clarke got up and smoothed out her shirt, apparently not embarrassed by her fall and faced her. “Welcome back Green-Eyes, what can I do for you this fine afternoon?” Lexa continued to stare. How the hell was this woman a teacher? “Ms Lexa Woods?”  Lexa held out the blonde’s cardigan to her, and impulsively blurted out “Why do you call us Ms or Mr but make us call you Clarke? What’s your surname?” The blonde grinned and gestured to one of the desks. “Sit, please. My surname is Griffin. Why do you think I insist on those things?” Lexa looked at her bewildered. If she had any idea she wouldn’t be asking? With the lack of an answer the blonde hummed, “Welcome to after school lessons on Communication 101.” Lexa had no idea how to react to this woman. The teacher had a way of completely keeping her off balance. “Ms Lexa Woods,” Her mischievous smirk was back. “How do I make you feel?” Wait. What?! “I uh, I don’t know. You’re different?” Lexa said. Blue eyes shined with unrestrained amusement, “Are you asking me or telling me?” The teacher didn’t wait for an answer, she dismissed her own question with a click of her tongue “It doesn’t matter. By addressing you as Ms Lexa Woods, and having you address me as Clarke, what message do you think I’m working on to convey?” That you’re unprofessional? Lexa thought. Well thought that she thought until the blonde tilted her head back in unrestrained laughter. “Yes, I guess you’re right. I’m unprofessional. Why do you think I let it be known that I call you Green-Eyes or Costia, Anya and Raven T.T.T?” Lexa found herself growing frustrated. She had asked a question to get an answer. Not to be asked more questions and this woman was treating it like a game! She gritted her teeth, and just as suddenly she was left breathless as amused blue eyes turned serious. Clarke pulled out a piece of paper from her drawer and began writing, her raspy voice was filled with something Lexa was unable to identify, as she asked, “Lexa, did you not enjoy my class yesterday? Are there any suggestions or feedback you would like to give?” Lexa shook her head and answered honestly “No.” The sound of the pencil scratched the paper. It occurred to her in that moment, it wasn’t that she really wanted an answer to the use of, or lack of use of titles when they addressed each other, but that she wanted to figure the other woman out. After some time, Clarke let out a sigh and folded her paper in half and held it out for her to take. “After school class Communication 101 is over.” Lexa pocketed the paper and just as she was walking through the door, Clarke’s voice called to her, “Think about the message Lexa!” The door closed behind her and Lexa took off in a run. She arrived home out of breath and headed directly to her room without acknowledging Indra who was laying on the couch. Lexa apparently had some sort of one on one lesson that left her more confused than from when she walked into the classroom. She pulled out the paper from her pocket. Lexa had been wrong. Clarke hadn’t been writing. She had been drawing. She had drawn the upper portion of Lexa’s own face. Her expression guarded and watchful. Communication 101. What message did she want to convey? How did she make her feel? Think about the message. It hit her like a Mac Truck, and a flare of anger burst inside her that Lexa had no option but to laugh out loud. When she finally calmed down. She pulled out her English notebook tearing out yesterday's assignment and restarted it with a vengeance. The teacher had given her the answer to her assignment. If she were isolation. Then Clarke Griffin was invitation. Clarke Griffin was twenty three years old and absolutely detested mornings. How envious she was of other people who possessed the ability to get out of bed and not require at least two cups of coffee and an hour before the world was coherent. It was her first year of teaching. Clarke loved her job. She loved the students, and she loved Arkadia Highschool. She just didn’t love having to be here at 7:30 every morning.  She stood up from her classroom desk and flipped the white board to the right, so it showed the blackboard on the other side, and drew a vertical line in the middle. On the left half she began drawing a toy clown and colouring it in with the various colours available to her in chalk. On the right side she began drawing a small depiction of a stream with trees and flowers along the bank. She glanced at her watch. Bellamy should be here any minute with his morning coffee delivery. He was sweet, even if he was a history nerd. Clarke was aware of the small crush he had on her, but she ignored it. She had no feelings for him, and even if she did he was off limits with being Octavia’s big brother. As she was finishing the final touches to her illustrations she had the feeling of being watched, and looked towards the door. It was Lexa woods. She was standing next to Bellamy’s class room door that provided a perfect line of sight into this classroom. She dressed drabby as always, in a too big dark green shirt and some oversized jeans that must have been held in place with a belt that couldn’t be seen under the shirt. Lexa Woods, she knew was a foster child. The school and all of her teachers had been made aware of her situation, so that the school was able to adapt to her if the girl had any adjustment needs the school needed to meet for her.  Clarke was glad that the T.T.T seems to have zeroed in on her. Costia was a sweet, compassionate kid, and you couldn’t find a better friend than Raven for all her wit and cheekiness. If Lexa earned Anya’s respect and trust. Clarke knew that Anya would stay loyal to her until the end. She wondered if Lexa would let them in. She hoped so. Lexa did not avert her eyes. She didn’t seem embarrassed or shy to be caught staring. Clarke tilted her lips in a small smile and arched an eyebrow at her. The girl’s jaw clenched in response, and her eyes hardened. Clarke had no idea how to interpret Lexa Woods. There was an intelligence, self awareness and a maturity to the girl that few others her age had. Clarke assumed this was a result of being in the system. But she was so innocent and naive on the same hand. The blonde’s smile widened as she recalled how the teen had become so flustered after school and seemed to react almost impulsively and without thought when she was caught off guard. Clarke’s final saving grace arrived at last as Bellamy blocked her sight of the girl when he came in with coffee. His eyes took in her illustrations on the blackboard. “Princess, I thought this was an English class, not an art class”  She took the coffee from him and teasingly said “Bell, a good teacher uses all materials at their disposal. Otherwise I would have the same problem you do and have the kids snores fill the classroom.” O’s brother scoffed and indignantly said “They don’t fall asleep!”  Clarke laughed, “Mr Blake, I’ve considered changing my entire teaching method to make it non-verbal teaching so the students and I can wear earbuds to drown out the noise!” A snort of amusement from the hallway was heard. Apparently Green-Eyes agreed with her. Bellamy gave her a friendly push. “This is my thanks for getting you coffee every morning?”  “Yep, now go away. I need to finish prepping for class, and you need to start.” She said.  Bellamy gave her an affectionate smile. “Clarke, sometimes I can’t tell if you’re an absolute genius or an adorable idiot.” She gave him a winning smile, “I’m an adorable idiot of course. Now go! I need to finish.” Clarke turned to her desk, and set up the portable bluetooth speaker. She really tried to go out of her way to make class interesting for the kids. She believed that engagement was the key to education. If a teacher could not relate or interact with their students then why would they be interested enough to pay attention and retain more information? Other than to apply for colleges that is?  She dropped down into her chair and sipped on her coffee, a mocha. Clarke didn’t have long until the school bell rang. Right, time to get started. The students filed in and Clarke purposely waited for speculation surrounding the drawings to take place. Her eyes fell to Lexa whose eyes were already on her. Clarke also noted the brunette was sitting next to Raven. Clapping her hands together in mock excitement to gather the students attention, Clarke addressed the room. “The English Language and Communication. That’s what we’ll be continuing with today.” Clarke saw a hand raise already. She raised a brow to the person it belonged to. “Why are you wearing a Slipknot shirt? I didn’t think you knew who Slipknot was!”  She beamed a smile towards him and winked, “Mr Jasper Jordan, that was a very good, but obvious observation.” and she referenced her question to Lexa at him “Why do you think I’m wearing a Slipknot shirt?” The boy shrugged. Intentionally she gave the appearance of dismissing the topic. “Right, English and Communication -” She was interrupted by a soft yet determined voice “- Because it’s the opposite of what’s expected of you. It draws our attention, and makes you appear less of an authority figure to subconsciously make us feel more comfortable around you. It’s the same reason we call you Clarke but you call us by a title or a nickname.” Clarkes eyes immediately snapped to Lexa’s and she gave the girl the first genuine smile of the day. She knew the girl was sharp. “Absolutely correct Green-Eyes. Communication isn’t just wording. It’s a message sent and the message received through a number of ways.” She said summarising part of last lesson. She raised her hand towards the picture of the clown she had drawn earlier. “How does this make you feel?”  “Bored!” Informed Nia. “Well Ms Nia Queen, and what about this?” She pointed to the river scene. “Still bored,” The student answered. Clarke hummed, and then asked “Does that feeling change, if I do this?” She reached over to her phone to play the first minute of Slipknot’s - Prosthetics.  Raven called out “Now it feels like that clown from the IT movie!”  The blonde furrowed her brows, and set her mouth in a thin line. She folded her arms across her chest and snapped “You forgot to put your hand up Raven Reyes!” The class was so taken aback that complete silence overtook the room, everyone’s eyes she noted, but Lexa’s were wide and big. Clarke chuckled, “Tone, and body language. They are also barriers to accurate interpretation of a message intended. Please pull out your books and start working on your assignment. There’s only two days left until it’s due. Remember. The different forms of communication and their barriers.” After 15minutes Clarke circled around the desks, scanning what the students have done so far. She was pleased with herself and them to find that most of the students were well and truly on top of the assignment. The blonde glowed with pride when she reached Raven and Lexa. The green eyed brunette had discreetly given her papers to her indicating the completion of the assignment already. Clarke let out an internal groan of relief when the double period was over. Sometimes expressing the energy and enthusiasm that she does can be exhausting. She found her usual study room empty and laid down on the bean bag and closed her eyes. She was on the verge of falling asleep when the sound of the door made her snap her eyes open. She looked at the cause of her interruption and sat up. “Ms Green-Eyes. Looking to do some studying?” The teen was adorably awkward. Clarke’s amusement at the girl returned when Lexa refused to meet her eyes and clutched her book in both hands. “No, I just wanted to find a quiet place to read.” away from everyone didn’t need to be said. Clarke moved to stand. “I’ll leave. I’m not sure I’m even allowed to nap in here. Enjoy your reading!” and she tossed a good natured wink. “Wait,” Lexa said. Her green forest eyes were fixed on the desk and chair. “You can stay here? If you want..? We can share?” Clarke felt her lips curl into a grin again as she repeated yesterday's question. “Are you telling me or asking me?” The teens mouth opened and closed several times before she stuttered, “I just thought sleeping and reading were quiet activities, I won’t wake you.. Again. And you won’t disturb me.” Clarke chuckled. She really was adorable. The blonde could tell even the act of asking her had caused the brunette’s nerves to fray. She took pity on the girl, and lowered herself back onto the bag. “Thank you Lexa.” She closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep for the sake of the girls comfort. Lexa left the room before she opened her eyes. Clarke got up, she had an EAP (Educational Adjustment Plan) meeting with Nia Queen’s parents and the principal, Marcus Kane. The girl was severely behind in her class. The meeting turned out to be as she expected. She spent the next hour listening to the girls parents insist that it was her teaching that caused Nia to be so far behind. This was despite Marcus showing the statistics that Arkadia High’s average grades for her class have actually increased since Clarke’s employment. Clarke took it with a grain of salt. She knew some people’s minds were already made up before they even walked through the doors, and that nothing would convince them otherwise. When school was over, Clarke had no desire to hang around. Yes, she loved being a teacher. But she didn’t think anyone but teachers themselves were actually aware of the hours required to be in the profession. She spent 6.5hours teaching, and in most afternoons she had faculty meetings, and that’s not including the time she spent at home designing lesson plans and grading the students or maintaining regular communication with the more engaging parents. She may only teach one class, but she taught different grades of that class. It wasn’t unusual for Clarke to pull off a minimum of 12hours work related in a day. Walking out the school's front gates to her car, she saw that Octavia was already waiting for her and she smiled at her friend. They were off for some beers, and dinner. Just a small break from the usual routine. Even though the bar they chose was a noisy environment and after spending the day around noisy teens, Octavia and Clarke didn’t need to talk. They appreciated each other's silent company without the need for words. They spent their time quietly sipping their beers and watching the other patrons.  When they parted ways and Clarke made it home. She thought about her parents for the first time in a long time. She hasn’t spoken to her mother since her father passed away, and even before that their relationship was strained due to Clarke’s determination to be a teacher and not a doctor of some sort. The blonde tried not to think of her mother or her father because she couldn’t think of one without associating them with the other. But sometimes she wanted more than anything to pick up the phone and call Abby. She wondered briefly if a child’s need for their parents comfort ever disappeared. Maybe one day her pride would allow her to interact with her mother again one day. Part of her hoped not. Part of her wanted it more than anything. The first thing Lexa noticed when she rolled out of bed was a shiny new mountain bike propped up on its stand in front of her closet it also had a helmet hanging from the handle bars. She inspected it closer, it was mostly black with the occasional red or yellow streak across its body. It was 18 speed, with a bike lock already installed underneath the seat with the key hanging out of it. Lexa felt her gut twist, almost like butterflies. She moved the bike so she could access her clothes.  The butterflies in her stomach increased when she observed all of her clothes had been removed and in their place were new ones. Lexa appreciated that Indra had gone out of her way to not choose any bright or stand out colours. Instead opting for darker colours. Nor were the style of clothes considered to be girly or fashionable. They seemed to be chosen for their comfort and practicality. Almost like Indra had instinctively known what Lexa would have chosen for herself. Lexa chose some athletic shorts and a dark red shirt. She noticed she had a new pair of running shoes too at the bottom of the closet. Lexa made her way to the dining room. Indra wasn’t in her usual spot. Lexa found her on the couch sleeping. The woman must have been tired with work and her night time shopping spree. Lexa’s gut twisted again. She didn’t want to wake the woman. But she felt like she had to acknowledge the effort Indra had gone through. But what could she do that Indra couldn’t already do for herself? She thought about it as she spread some cream cheese on a bagel and nibbled on it for breakfast. Perhaps it wasn’t about providing something for Indra. Maybe she could just do something for her. Lexa looked in the fridge and found some beef. She had an idea. Locating the slow cooker, she set it up next to the electric tea kettle. That way Indra couldn’t miss it. She diced an onion, some carrots and potatoes, and then the beef. Lexa threw them all into the slow cooker followed with some green beans and peas. She added some mixed herbs, with rosemary and garlic with some water mixed with cornstarch and set the cooker on high. Lexa cleaned up the mess she made, and walked her bike out the door, locking the door behind her.  Lexa was late for school, but this time she didn’t mind. She didn’t feel put on the spot, like all eyes were on her when she made her way to the gym. Ms Blake had her hair in a sleek high ponytail, wearing a tank top and leggings. Lexa briefly wondered how the woman and Clarke could be friends. She had an intense look to her and lacked any of the playfulness or friendliness that Clarke possessed. “Come on Woods!” The teacher hollered, “Class isn’t going to last all day!” No, Ms Blake was like the school drill sergeant Lexa decided as she jogged over to the class. She saw Costia, Anya and Raven doing some warm up stretches next to each other. “Damn girl, you’re not hiding anymore! You’re hot!” Raven exclaimed. Anya glared at Raven. Costia nodded in agreement and blushed. Lexa blushed too, but didn’t acknowledge the brunette’s statement, opting to say a simple “Good morning.” and began to mimic the stretches before Ms Blake called her out again. Gym class consisted of jogging five laps around the gym and a game of indoor soccer. If Lexa had ever thought she might have liked something. She would have named this sport. It gave her a rush of exhilaration she’s never experienced before. A rush she wanted to experience more of. When the class was in the middle of their wind down stretches Ms Blake called her name loudly causing Lexa to snap her head towards the woman. Ms Blake curled her finger in a “come here” motion. Lexa obeyed. “Woods,” The teacher said. Lexa tensed. Ms Blake could be intimidating. “Have you ever played competitive soccer before?” Lexa shook her head. “Would you like to?” Ms Blake questioned. Lexa raised her eyes. Green met green. “I don’t know.” The teacher continued “You appear to have a natural talent. The soccer season has already started, but you can still sign up and start training if you’re interested. The sign up and information sheet is outside of my office.” and with that Ms Blake turned and left the gym.  If Lexa were isolation, and Clarke were invitation, then Ms Blake was definitely dictation. Dazed by Ms Blake’s words she waved goodbye to the T.T.T and headed to the library for lunch. Did she want to play soccer? She think she enjoyed it. But that meant drawing attention to herself. No. She wouldn’t sign up. Maybe there was a sport she could sign up for that wasn’t school based. Yes, that was a more comforting option to consider. She entered the study room, and it occurred to her she had thought of Anya, Raven and Costia as T.T.T. She sighed. That woman! A very familiar chuckle was heard, “What woman?” Lexa looked down at Clarke on the beanbag and bluntly said “You.” The blonde arched a brow. “Me?” She gritted her teeth. “Yes, you. I was thinking about Costia, Raven and Anya and I immediately thought T.T.T! That’s just rude.” Clarke stared at her in bafflement before uncontrollable laughter erupted from her. Tears formed in her blue eyes as she delightfully got out “That’s brilliant!” Lexa watched her not knowing how to react before she blurted out “I can’t tell if you’re really smart or an absolute idiot. How did you manage to become a teacher? You’re like a little big kid.” The blonde apparently found this even more hilarious. “Green-Eyes!” She gasped, “Please, show me mercy!” She took a deep breath trying to settle herself. Lexa sighed, and sat in the chair pulling out her book. She decided the woman was an idiot. She was nearing the end of her chapter, when she heard the ruffle of the beanbag and Clarke’s voice said softly. “There’s more to life than what someone achieves at the end of it. More than just getting out of bed each morning. More than grades, college, and money, or work. When I die, I hope I can look back on my life and know I made the most of it. For myself and anyone I’ve shared it with. To know that I meant something to them and know they meant something to me. To make such a positive and long lasting difference in at least one life would be my ultimate achievement. It doesn’t matter who it is. A student, a partner, a family member or a friend. That would be my legacy. Appreciation of life.” The sound of the door closed quietly. A thick lump formed in her throat and she felt a newfound respect for the woman. The bell rang. She had free period. She wandered around the school in a daze mulling over the teacher's words. She couldn’t understand why the words made her feel vulnerable and almost sad .  She thought about Indra and Costia and their quiet attempts to interact with her. She thought about Clarke and Raven and their boisterous behaviours that everyone seemed to like. She even thought about grouchy but steady Anya and Ms Blake who appeared to be such a teddy bears underneath their prickly exteriors. They had something that she couldn’t figure out. Something she was missing. Something Clarke’s words made her want almost desperately.  For the first time in her life Lexa Woods felt lonely . Lexa fiddled with her spoon at the table. She knew that Indra’s eyes were on her. She could feel them. The woman cleared her throat to get her attention. Lexa obeyed the call, lifting her eyes to meet hers. She couldn’t make out what the gleam in Indra’s eyes represented.  “Dinner was really good. I haven’t had someone cook for me in years. Thank you Lexa” Her carer said. Lexa shifted in her seat and looked down at the spoon she was fiddling with again. She typically didn’t like any sort of acknowledgement, it meant that the interactions were more directed to her. Not at her. She didn’t know how to respond to such interactions. “Thank you for the clothes and the bike.” The teen deflected. Indra's voice was naturally gruff. But her tone was patient as she said slowly, “You’re welcome Lexa. Do you like them?” The truth be told, Lexa longed for the freedom her bike had the potential to provide to her. Instead of retreating to her room every day the brunette could picture herself riding with no destination in mind immersing herself in the world of an audiobook as she did so. Lexa though, was not ready to acknowledge anything that personal. The olive branch she offered instead still required a lot of effort. “I love them.. Am I allowed to ride it? Outside of school? I mean.” Both of Indra’s brows shot up, as if she were surprised. “Of course, this is not a prison Lexa. As long as you let me know when you’ll be back and answer your phone when you call you can always leave the house if you want.” The teen stood up, this was already too intimate for her. “It’s time for school.” she bit her lip at the look in Indra’s eyes. Somehow Indra was smiling with her eyes and not with the placement of her lips or brows. “Thank you for talking to me this morning Lexa. Have a good day.” Indra bidded her. Lexa’s awkwardness returned, “You’re welcome. You have a good day? Sleep? Too?” Lexa made her way to Clarke’s classroom, Raven was already there with a few of the other students. She took the empty seat next to her. “Mornin’, Lex. Assignment’s due today. Have you finished it?” “Yes.” Lexa swallowed. “I mean yes, I already handed it in. I’m glad it’s Friday.”  Raven flashed her a charming smile. “Wow, I think that’s the most you ever said to me. I almost thought you didn’t like us!” The green eyed brunette considered how she was going to reply. Again, the concept of liking something still seemed foriegn to her. “You guys are nice.” and she tried for some humour for the first time “I’m socially awkward.” She cringed. That was socially awkward. The other brunette cocked a brow, and with a tilt of her lips in a manner that was so similar to Clarke’s she said, “You don’t say?” Lexa opted to shrug, not knowing how to verbally react. Speaking of Clarke, “Clarke’s late.” She deflected. If Raven replied, Lexa wasn’t listening. She was nervous. The blonde’s words the day before had awoken something in her, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face the person who had spoken them. She felt something poke her arm, and her eyes shot up to meet Ravens. “Yes?” She asked. Raven seemed to be analysing her. “Costia likes you, you know?” “Costia doesn’t know me.” She replied immediately. Brown eyes hardened. “You don’t need to be an ass about it. If you don’t like her just say it nicely.” It took a moment for Lexa to realise what Raven meant. She tried to clarify. “I’m sorry. I’m not good with dealing with feelings. I didn’t mean it as a dismissal. I meant that I didn’t know why she likes me. Because we only just met?” “Oh boy,” Raven said with a roll of her eyes, “Cos has a lot of work with you.” The green eyed teen frowned. Raven’s tone had been light. But her words indicated criticism. This was why Lexa preferred books and music over people. She chose not to reply. The door opened and Clarke strode into the room and began talking. But Lexa didn’t hear any of her words. Lexa’s complete attention was on studying the woman in a new light, and for the first time Lexa took her in. Really took her in. Despite the wide smile, and energy she was presenting the class with, and despite the bright colours she wore. For the first time Lexa didn’t see a little big kid. She didn’t see someone who was unscathed by life’s experiences, or who thought everything was a joke or fun and games. She suddenly recognised the same shrewd gleam in the blonde’s eyes that Indra’s possessed. What Lexa had mistaken for as an immaturity and a carefree demeanor she now conceded was precision planning and purposeful. Literally speaking, manipulative . Manipulative - To describe the characteristic of influencing a viewpoint or emotion or behaviour, with the use of words, behaviour or actions. Lexa disagreed with the word’s association with negative intentions.  Even though Lexa had only known everyone in this school for a single week. The T.T.T seemed genuine, it was for that reason she didn’t mind their company. And even though she knew that teacher’s were different in school than they were outside of school. She thought she had seen enough of Clarke to know her. She had observed Clarke so intently she had convinced herself of who the woman really was.  It was like a smack in the face to realise only after she had dismissed the blonde as an idiot and had decided she was only going to tolerate the woman, that she had seen the only true glimpse of who Clarke was as a person after her speech in the library. She realised that it wasn’t Clarke who was childish, it was that she had already set a bar of expectation before she even walked into this classroom. But what the blonde had presented with was so very different from those expectations. Lexa felt as if she had failed her English assignment. Not on paper. She was confident she aced that. Clarke had all but shoved the content of the assignment down her throat. But as a practical skill, there was no question of her failure. It was with these thoughts that Lexa realised that she was feeling guilt. “Hey? Hello? Green-Eyes? Lexa?” The world came back into focus. She found the subject of her thoughts kneeling down on the other side of her desk so they were eye level with each other. Lexa had another first time moment, Clarke was actually quite beautiful. She was having a lot of first times with the blonde that she was actually becoming annoyed with herself. “I’m sorry, yes?” the teen acknowledged. Lips tilted with that familiar playfulness that Lexa was now sure was part of a facade. “Class is over. Did you have a good daydream?” She twisted her mouth to mimic what she hoped was that playful same tilt. “Yes, actually I did.” The blonde laughed, “Green-Eyes. You have jokes!” “Are you going for your nap?” Lexa asked in all seriousness, and she resisted the urge to fidget when Clarke’s blue eyes seemed to be calculating her question. “No Lexa. I have other arrangements today.” The change in the tone the teacher used caused a stir inside of her. Impulsively she asked, “What arrangements?” “I have a much needed date with my mother.” It was strange the way Clarke had said it. Almost distractedly. It was just as strange the blonde used the term ‘mother’ over the word ‘mum’. Lexa stood up. “Good luck” She swore she heard Clarke whisper “I’ll need it.” as she exited the classroom.  The teen was a creature of habit. It was lunch, therefore she was going to the library. But as she passed the cafeteria she spotted the T.T.T. She changed her course of direction. “Costia, Anya, Raven.” She acknowledged each of them as she sat down next to Costia. Anya’s usual scowl was on her face, but she shoved a chocolate milk in her direction. “I don’t like it, and they already had theirs. Here.” Lexa cocked a brow, “Thank you.” “You’re unusually social today. Did aliens abduct you?” Raven asked and a second later she winced. Costia gave one of her shy smiles. “Raven means that it’s nice that you want to join us.” She forced herself to return the smile. If she didn’t want to join them she wouldn’t have. The act of smiling was not a natural behaviour for her. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I didn’t like you guys.” She acknowledged. “Don’t apologise.” Anya said gruffly, “You’re awkward. We get it. We don’t care. It makes us like you more. You’re real unlike everyone else. Literally.” Lexa's conclusion that Anya was a teddy bear underneath a prickly exterior was confirmed. Clarke and Anya were very similar. In that they hid themselves behind their demeanor. She wondered if Costia and Raven did the same. She looked at Raven as she busied herself building some sort of tower out of her salad and carrot sticks. Lexa was actually quite impressed at the creativity. Costia’s face turned red as she handed her a piece of paper. “It’s my number. We’re hanging out on Sunday, it’s nothing special, they’re just coming over to my place. If you want to come, let me know.” Lexa took it, “I’ll have to ask my-” She shifted and restarted her sentence, “I’ll have to ask Indra.” “Indra?” Costia looked interested. Too interested for Lexa’s comfort. She averted her gaze and observed the process of Raven’s construction before she answered, “The person I live with.”  There were no follow up questions. It was Sunday morning, and Lexa was restless. She spent Saturday determined to finish her book and had only left the room for bathroom breaks and dinner. She had already finished her homework for the week. She looked at her bike. She had no audiobooks but she did have the music on her phone, and Indra did say she could go out if she wanted. She better double check just in case. That would be the considerate thing to do. She found Indra folding the laundry. Lexa didn’t say anything in greeting but instead picked up a shirt and silently helped the woman with the task.  Lexa was on the fourth article of clothing or eyes focused on the clothes, when she opened her mouth and forced herself to start a conversation with her. “School is good. I made friends.” The woman didn’t pause in the motions of her task. “Friends?” Lexa wasn’t sure how to interpret the lilt in the word. She assumed that it meant the woman wanted her to elaborate. “Yes, I guess they’re friends. Costia Green, she’s shy. Anya Foresterr she’s a bit grouchy, but nice and Raven Reyes she think she’s funny.” The teen felt Indra’s eyes on her as the woman asked, “Do you like them?” Lexa shifted, she called them friends didn’t she? She chose to sit with them and not because they asked. She did it of her own accord. They didn’t ignore her, or speak down to her. “Yes, I like them.” She decided, and this time she didn’t feel as if it were a question. It was a certainty. She did like them. She picked up a pair of shorts to fold, and blurted out “Raven called our English teacher a monkey. I called her an idiot.” “What?” Indra asked in obvious surprise. “Your friend, Raven called the teacher a monkey and you called Raven an idiot for that?” Lexa tried to clarify. “No, Raven called the teacher and the whole class a monkey, and I also called the teacher an idiot.” The teen winced as Indra’s voice increased slightly in volume as she admonished “Lexa! I hope you and your friend had a good reason for that?” Lexa shifted, she was beginning to regret opening her mouth. “Raven was giving examples of some of the rules of English. She said ‘the difference between geese and goose and your monkeys and you’re a monkey’. She didn’t get in trouble.” Discomfort enveloped Lexa as Indra didn’t reply. Before she could think of a reason to give to leave, Indra finally asked “So it was in an educational context. Did you think it was funny or rude?” The teen thought about it. “It was rude at the time. I think it’s funny now?” “And this is the same teacher you called an idiot?” Indra’s follow up question was. “Yes.” Lexa informed her. “Do you think this teacher is an idiot?” The woman enquired. Lexa thought about it. Her thoughts surrounding Clarke had been constantly changing from one end of the spectrum to the other all week. “I did then. At the time I mean. I don’t think so now.” “Mmm.” Was the acknowledgement she received. “She’s loud and jokes all the time. I didn’t think she was teaching us anything. But she did. I called her an idiot because I used her slang. She’s smart I think.” Lexa lamely finished her explanation. “Does this teacher have a name Lexa? You told me your friends' names.” Indra questioned further. Lexa didn’t hesitate, “Clarke Griffin.” She picked up the empty laundry basket to put it away. When she returned Indra was on the sofa chair, her dark eyes following the teens movement. “Lexa,” Indra said. It was a command that Lexa obeyed by looking at her. “You’re smart too. Taking the time to know what’s going on around you and also trying to understand it too, is very smart. You just need to decide what to do with all that information you’re taking in.” The woman’s words sent a cold chill down her back. Lexa felt bare, she almost felt understood. She didn’t want to talk anymore. “Can I go for a bike ride?”  Her carer nodded, and having been given permission Lexa picked up her pile of folded clothes and put them away in her wardrobe. She placed her ear buds in and pressed play on the media app on her phone. As she pushed her bike through the living room she nodded towards Indra. Indra acknowledged it with a nod on her own. If Lexa had imagined the potential enjoyment that riding her bike without a destination could provide, then the reality of doing it was beyond her ability to articulate. She felt peaceful with the wind in her face and music playing in her ears. She appreciated the smell of freshly cut grass or the scent of the flowers she rode by. Her eyes took in the vibrant colours of the world outside of the school walls and her bedroom. It caused her thoughts to quieten down. The brunette didn’t even have to spend the time to reason out how she felt about this. Lexa found something she loved unquestionably. The brunette really had no idea how long she spent cruising around on her bike, nor did she actually know where she was but she could see it was late afternoon by the position of the sun. But she spotted a park and went to have a drink at its water fountain and to splash some water on her face. It was a good spot to rest. There was a pleasant breeze and it was mostly quiet. There were only a few pedestrians that appeared here and there walking their dogs and cars driving past seemed to be infrequent. Lexa wished she had brought a book. Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention over at an empty construction site across the road. She waited to see what it was. A figure appeared in long heavy duty clothes, with protective full fingered sports gloves and was wearing what looked to be a motorbike helmet, was riding a street bike over a concrete block that had fallen almost like it was a jump. Lexa, grabbed her bike and walked closer to get a look. She was wrong. There were three people all dressed like that. The only differences were the colours each of the individuals wore. One was just sitting there on their bike watching the other two.  Another was riding in a continuous circle doing a wheelie while occasionally spinning the bike's handlebars in a 360 rotation. She noticed this rider wore something similar to ski goggles over their helmet.  The third was riding towards the block again and when they used it as a jump the person angled their bike horizontally in the air before straightening up and landing with a soft thud. The stationary rider seemed to have spotted her. Because they waved to the other two riders, and called out. “We have a visitor.” Due to the helmet, the voice was muffled, it was familiar and it was male. The rider who had been using the concrete as a block came over. The other continued what they were doing. The riders in front of her both took off their helmets.  “It’s Woods.” Ms Blake said as a greeting. Her face was red and sweaty, and her hair was in a low ponytail. Lexa was taken by surprise, not only by the fact it was Ms Woods but also because she had never seen the woman not look so stern before. Her brother rolled his eyes, “I didn’t notice that Captain Obvious.” “Mr and Ms Blake,” She acknowledged. Ms Blake snorted, “We’re outside of school. Just call me O.” “O, what about professionalism?” Mr Blake reminded her. “Bell, shut up. We’re not in a professional setting and it’s not like we’re doing or saying anything that’s wrong or inappropriate. She can call me Ms at school and outside of school she can call me O. Besides, everyone calls Princess, Clarke.” Ms Blake said, dismissing her brother. “Yeah, but that’s Clarke.” Mr Blake whined. His sister chose to ignore him. Lexa really couldn’t understand what the big deal was about what she called them. Their arguing must be a sibling thing. “Doing a bit of bike riding of your own huh? It’s a perfect day for it.” O said to her. Lexa agreed. She felt that today was a good day. She saw Mr Blakes eyes watch the unknown rider. She followed his eyes to watch the rider too and replied. “Yes. I was just getting out of the house. What are you doing here?” “As I said, perfect day for a bike ride.” O answered, it was almost surreal to hear the grumpy teacher sound… Well, not so grumpy. “We’re practicing. It’s our hobby.” It seemed Mr Blake disagreed with this opinion, “You, mean it’s both of your hobbies. It’s not mine. You two just drag me here.” He snarked. The rider lowered their front wheel to the ground and rode out behind the partially built building out of Lexa’s sight. The woman huffed, “If you didn’t want to be here you wouldn’t be.” Lexa decided this most definitely must be a sibling thing as Mr Blake insisted “I don’t!” The rider came back into view and rode towards them slowly. “Please, you only come because she asks you too.” O stated to her brother. About a meter away the rider stopped. Lexa felt stupid. The conversation was over her head. She didn’t know what was being discussed or even understand why this was worth arguing about. The teen agreed with Ms Blake. If Mr Blake didn’t want to be here he wouldn’t be. He’s a grown man who can make his own choices. That didn’t stop her from interrupting the two of them to ask “Who?” The rider had removed their goggles, and was unbuckling their helmet. Lexa already knew who it was the moment she could see their eyes. “Clarke.” The smile Clarke gave to her was different than the normal ones. Less exaggerated, and the typical playful look in her eyes was replaced by a more toned down genuine one. “Green-Eyes.” She greeted. She watched the blonde eyes take her in and then take in her new bike she was still holding.  “What are you doing here?” Lexa repeated her earlier question. She believed that Clarke would give a more informative answer than Ms Blake did. The English teacher gestured to Ms Blake and herself and explained “We’re just goofing off. But we do BMX racing competitively to blow off steam. What we’re doing here is BMX freestyle.” The teen really wasn’t sure how to handle this information. Not that she cared about their chosen hobby. It was just something she wouldn’t have imagined from the blonde. Ms Blake perhaps, but not Clarke. There was also the change in the blonde teachers entire demeanor that Lexa didn’t know how to react to. She understood the reasoning in that this wasn’t ‘Teacher Clarke’ but that didn’t make it any more comforting in terms how Lexa should be around her.  She noted Clarke’s BMX bike had the number plate 319 on the handlebars attached by a couple of zipties. Ms Blake’s number plate was 167. BMX Racing? “Yep,” Clarke responded, popping the ‘p’ sound and elaborated, “BMX racing. There are different clubs. Each club has their own track that their members train and race on, and every two months the town has a series, kind of like a competition and all the racers race on each of the different clubs tracks.” She continued to explain. “Interesting.” Lexa replied. It was true. This really was interesting. The younger brunette saw Clarke look at her and bite her lip. Like she was trying to think of something. “Hey Princess, it’s starting to get late. We should get going.” Mr Blake said. Without removing her eyes, Clarke dismissed him sounding distracted. “Go on without me. I’ll see you at school.” “Don’t forget, we need to be there early. We have that meeting before school starts, remember?” Ms Blake’s tone was back to being familiarly stern. Lexa was actually comforted by it. The blonde waved her hand carelessly. They rode off. Clarke still hadn’t removed her blue eyes from her. Lexa shifted her weight from foot to foot. The motion seemed to snap the blonde out of her reverie and she looked to the sky. “The Arkadia BMX club trains on Wednesday nights beginning at 6. We race on Saturday nights if you’re interested in checking it out. But those idiots are right. It’ll be nightfall in about half hour.” She said. Lexa felt a buzz but said nothing. She waited for the blonde to indicate the next move. “Where do you live Lexa?” She asked. The teen gave her the address. Clarke hummed. “Put on your helmet. Let’s go.” The brunette didn’t move and Clarke said, “That’s about a half hour ride. I’d rather get there before it gets too dark.” Oh, the blonde had intended to ride home with her. She put on her helmet and watched Clarke manipulate the strap on her own helmet and then place her goggles so it sat over the viser. “Lead the way.” the teacher instructed. When they approached Indra’s house Clarke was several meters behind her. Lexa rode into the gravel driveway, and stopped when there was no sound of a second pair of tyres on the gravel, as she turned to see where Clarke was, the blonde rode past her with a wave. Lexa found the door unlocked, Indra was finishing her dinner. It looked like she had just gotten out of the shower and was dressed in her work uniform. The teen pushed her bike into her room and sat down to join her carer. “Any later and I would have called to see where you were.” Indra said. Lexa’s first thought was that she didn’t want her new found bike riding freedom to be revoked and asked quickly “Am I too late?” “No, but any much later and you would have been. How was your outing?” Indra asked. For another time this day the teen found herself answering with certainty as she said “It was good.” Her carer stood up and took her plate to the sink rinsing it off. When she returned to the room there was a gentleness to her as she said “It must have been. You’re smiling. I have to go to work. There’s dinner in the microwave for you. I’ll see you in the morning.” Lexa waved, and when Indra had shut the door behind her the brunette raised her hand to her face. Indra was right. She was smiling. The days blurred together for Clarke. So far the week had been incredibly busy for her. On Monday before Lexa’s and Raven’s double English period, she had a faculty meeting that she would have fallen asleep in, if it weren’t for Octavia digging the blunt end of a pencil into her side several times. There was one moment the blonde had actually felt the wetness on the side of her lip that was a sure sign she had been about to drool. She had been the epitome of the saying ‘ The lights are on, but no one’s home’ . She knew O didn’t have a teaching period. Her friend walked with her on the way to the classroom. Lexa was in her usual spot leaning next to Bellamy’s door, and the teacher near about tripped over her own feet if it hadn’t been for her reaching out for O to steady herself, when the teen gave a strained smile followed by a simple “Good morning Clarke, Ms Blake.” Her friend had obviously believed her clumsiness had been a part of her usual antics because the PE teacher had just rolled her eyes and muttered “Fool.” and Clarke didn’t bother to correct the assumption. For Clarke, going into her teacher persona was a habit. There was no conscious thought to the wide smile and the teasing “Green-Eyes!” she gave the brunette teen after she had straightened up. It was a smooth transition as she gave her best exaggerated pout when she begged for her friend to do a coffee run for her. The blonde had been pleased to note that Lexa had evolved from not only just sitting awkwardly next to Raven, but the two had spent a few minutes talking to each other before Clarke addressed the classroom.  Her lunch hour had been spent guiding the soon-to-be-primary-school-graduates around the school. She really appreciated that Arkcadia High and Arkcadia Primary School worked together to develop a program to assist in the transition from Primary to Secondary Education. She recalled how anxious her first day of High School had been. The change from a single classroom and a single teacher to multiples had been a bit confronting for her, and she had spent her non-teaching afternoon starting to mark the assignments that she had been putting off. Tuesday had been much of the same. But she struggled to get into her usual groove for school. She had no reason for it. She had just woken up feeling out of sorts. Her unusual mood had been reflected in the tone of the classroom. The students had been restless and the atmosphere had been unusually subdued. Clarke had mentally kicked herself for it. Her mood was no fault of theirs, but she had continued to try despite not having any success. But right now, Clarke thrummed with excitement. She had way too much excess energy that she needed to burn and the dirt track of the club was the best thing to do it. Her arms already gleamed from sweating lightly already. She was wearing her long BMX protective pants with steel cap sneakers and a grey athletics singlet. She saw no reason to wear her BMX protective shirt yet in this heat and had a duffle bag with her full helmet, goggles and said shirt slung over her shoulder as she leaned against her SUV with her bike next to her waiting for Octavia’s arrival. It wasn’t Octavia though who captured her attention first. It was Lexa. The teen really did look better in the new clothes Indra had gotten her. Clarke observed that the brunette’s posture wasn’t as awkward or uncertain as it usually was, and her usually impassive expression showed a curiosity as she had gotten out of a car as she was dropped off in. The blonde waved her over and called “You made it!” Lexa’s brilliant green eyes scrutinised her. Clarke didn’t think those green eyes missed much. For all of Lexa’s social inadequacies the blonde had a feeling that the teen was hyper aware of her surroundings. No, that’s wrong. The teen is hyper aware of her surroundings. Her Communications paper had definitely indicated that. “Clarke.” Lexa said in her usual greeting. The blonde smiled at her, “I was waiting for Octavia. But we can go in, she can find us inside.” “Octavia? That’s Ms Blake? O?” The brunette frowned at her own wording. Clarke gripped the handlebars of her bike and began to lead them through the gates. “Yeah, sorry O is just her nickname. Sometimes I forget Octavia is her name.” She laughed. “You been friends for long?” Lexa enquired. Clarke hummed in confirmation “Since Primary School. She pushed a boy over who called me a baby. We’ve been friends ever since.” The girl apparently had no response to that bit of sharing as Clarke stopped at one of the bleachers and placed her duffle bag down. The blonde unzipped it and pulled out her BMX shirt, when it was half way over her head Lexa asked “What are they doing?” Pulling the shirt down properly Clarke looked at where the teen was gazing. There were several people with hoses sprinkling the track with water and she explained “They’re watering down the track so when we ride on it, it doesn’t turn into a dust storm.” “Princess!” Octavia’s voice called her. She with the exception of her helmet the older brunette was fully decked out in her protective wear. “Hi O, look who’s joining us today.” She greeted her friend back and gestured to Lexa. Lexa though, didn’t seem to shrink back as she usually would. “Ms Blake.” Octavia rolled her eyes, “I told you outside of school to call me O.” and then to Clarke she asked, “What’s the bet this weekend?” Clarke laughed and smirked. They always bet who would win on the Saturday night race. “If I win, you gotta come into my class and tell me how awesome I am on the mornings you don’t have a teaching period.” Her friend glared. “You’re on!” She agreed. “But If I win then I get to have your bike pegs.” “What happened to your pegs?!” The blonde argued. Octavia shrugged. “Ask Bell, he borrowed mine and I haven’t seen them since.” “Ok, I win you grovel in front of the class this week to me. If you win, you keep my pegs.” Clarke summarised. Octavia smirked and put on her helmet followed by her bike gloves. “I’ll be enjoying those pegs!” She called out riding out to the starting gate since the race track prep had finished. “She’s not grouchy. She’s arrogant.” Lexa voiced. Clarke turned to the teen and grinned. “She can be. She would argue that she’s serious and confident though.” By Lexa’s reaction the blonde guessed that she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Can you see her?” She asked the brunette. “Yes.” came the simple answer. “The jump with two humps is called a Doubles, the jump without any hump is called a Table Top. Three humps is called a Triples, The part where it has lots of little smaller humps is called a Rhythms section. Then that jump over there where the take off point is lower than the landing height are called Step Ups, and lastly the jump over there where the take off point is higher than the landing point is called a Step Down.” Clarke explained to her, indicating with her hand in the direction of the different aspects of the track. She watched as green eyes observed Octavia go around the track with rapt attention. She longed to join her friend on the track. “I’ll be back. I’m just going to do a couple of laps. You’ll be alright here?” She asked her. Lexa’s lips twitched, but she nodded and offered no verbal response. Clarke put her helmet on, feeling the thick pads press against the top of her head and the sides of her face firmly and did the straps up before putting on her gloves, she rode slowly to the top of the starting gate and decided to tease the teen a bit by looking over in her direction and tossing her a wave. Lexa rotated her wrist in the most minute and lazy wave Clarke had ever seen from anyone. She snorted to herself in amusement before pushing off and going down the starting gate. That just seemed to be such a Lexa thing to do. Already she felt exhilarated.  Pedalling hard a couple of times to build up speed she felt her body automatically reposition itself over her bike as she jumped over the Doubles. She allowed herself a second or two before pedalling again and just rode over the Table Top, and peddled faster so she could glide a Berm. God Clarke loved doing this. The rest of the world ceased to exist in these moments.  She jumped the Step Up and adjusted her balance heading towards the The Triples, pedaling harder. She jumped, landing on the second hump and rolled over the third. The second berm was approaching. The blonde pedalled as fast as she could, stopping the action to smoothly turn. She turned her head to the side to be aware of other riders. She looked ahead and saw she hadn’t been aware she had auto-rode that last straight and was approaching the last one. A Step Down and a set of Rhythms. She rolled over the first hump of the rhythms before scootering (the act of wheeling over jumps) over two of them and jumping the last hump before she reached the end of the track. She rode over to where Lexa was, and took her helmet off. The girl was absolutely entranced by the riders on the track. “You want to try?” She asked the teen. Lexa’s eyes flew to hers, her disappointment apparent. “I don’t have a bike.” “Who cares, I need to catch my breath. You can borrow my bike. I have some spare long clothes in the car that you can change into if you want, if you don’t mind my sweaty helmet.” Clarke encouraged her. The brunette clearly wanted to try. She nodded. Clarke reached into her duffle bag and pulled out her keys holding them out to her. “They’re in a grey backpack in the backseat.” Lexa just stared at the keys. “Lexa, if there was anything you wanted to steal in my car. Then you obviously need it more than I do.” The blonde tried to distract her with a joke. Wordlessly Green-Eyes took her keys and awkwardly made her way towards the car park. Clarke turned her attention back to the track and located O who decided she wanted to mix in a bit of Free Style as she did this circuit. When Lexa returned, Clarke hid a smile at how small she appeared to be. The brunette wasn’t as curvy as she was, so her clothes looked huge on her. Not as huge as the clothes the blonde had first seen her in though. Clarke took off her gloves, and held them and her helmet out to her. After Lexa had put them on, she got off her bike holding it for the teen to take. “Have fun. Trust your instincts. Your body knows what it’s doing.”  Lexa took the bike headed towards the starting gate, with a muffled “Thank you.” Clarke took off her protective shirt, and found a spot on the ground to lie on and used her BMX shirt as a pillow and closed her eyes. The blonde was awoken rudely by one of O’s shoes to her thigh and a “Get up slack ass. Everyone’s gone and they want to lock up.” Clarke opened her eyes. Sure enough, everyone had left except O, her and Lexa. Wow. Lexa really did an attractive pair of eyes. But what really caught Clarke’s attention was the life and the excitement that was shining through them. When she sat up, O said her goodbyes with a gruff “I’m going home. Later.” Then there were two. “Is Indra coming to pick you up?” the blonde asked. The teen shook her head. “She’s at work. She gave me cab money.” They walked to the SUV, and Clarke mounted her bike on it’s rack. She unlocked the vehicle and said “Get in.” Lexa slid into the passenger seat. The drive home was quiet. Neither had anything to say to each other. But Green-Eyes seemed alive. Any sign of her usual awkwardness was gone for the moment, there was no jaw clenching or fidgeting. It was quite a difference from school. They pulled up to Lexa’s house, and the teen looked down at Clarke’s clothes she was still wearing. “Keep them. Who knows. Maybe you’ll need them again.” Clarke said. Lexa got out of the car and shut the door. The brunette hadn’t verbally said anything. She hadn't needed to. Her entire demeanor said everything. Clarke went home. For the umpteenth time Lexa’s eyes darted to her carer as her knee continued to bounce up and down, she looked away. The teen had been repeating this motion sequence for a few minutes now. So far Indra has said nothing of it, but she was most certainly aware considering her own eyes would flick over to Lexa’s bobbing knee and then to Lexa’s face before moving back to her paper. Lexa has learned enough of the woman now to know that the older woman was waiting until she was ready to share. Indra would not press Lexa’s comfort levels. Still, she was nervous. She’s never asked for anything this big before. The teen broke the repetition to look at the clock on the wall. Time was running out if she wanted to be on time for school. “I want to race.” She finally vomited out. Indra’s expression didn’t change for a moment before one of her brows slowly began to arch. “I’m sorry?” It was only after Lexa blurted out, “Why are you sorry? You haven’t done anything.” she realised how stupid that sounded, even to herself. She had reacted to the literal words again. Indra’s tone meant that she didn’t understand. Indra didn’t say anything, her face was calm while she waited. The teen took a breath to steady herself. “BMX racing. Where you dropped me off on Wednesday night. Can I join the club? Train and race? Please?” An indescribable look crossed the woman's expression as she sighed, “Lexa.. I can’t. I just finished buying you new clothes and a mountain bike. I don’t have the money.” Lexa felt overwhelmed, as if she were about to explode. BMX racing was not a request. It was a need . She needed this. She knew Indra’s answer was fair and reasonable. But the answer made her feel an intense rawness that was beyond logic. Nor did the teen understand the level of intensity of what she was feeling. “I have the clothes! Clarke gave them to me when she let me try!” Lexa was so unreasonably desperate. Indra continued to study her, in that calm way of hers. So completely opposite to the intensity that was bubbling up inside of her. It almost made her angry at the woman to see just how calm she was in the face of her own desperation. “Clarke?” Was all the woman said. Lexa rushed to explain, “Yes. Clarke Griffin. -” “- Clarke Griffin. Isn’t that the English teacher you said was an idiot?” Indra asked, interrupting in the same leveled voice. “Yes. Well no, I don’t think she’s an idiot anymore. But yes, she’s that teacher.” she gritted out. Indra looked at the clock before looking at Lexa again and she instructed, “Come. Get in the car, I’m taking you to school.” And just like that, she was exhausted and she deflated. Defeated, Lexa stood up and did as her carer asked with Indra following behind her steady as always. The short drive to the school was silent and she stared out the window. The teen really did understand where Indra was coming from. Her feelings were not directed to the woman. Her feelings were directed at the situation. But still the feelings were there nonetheless. Lexa was surprised when the older woman got out of the car and walked with her through the school’s gates. “Follow me.” Her carer led them to the front office and said to the administration worker “I would like to speak to Clarke Griffin.” and a few seconds later  “Clarke Griffin please come to the Front Office. I repeat, Clarke Griffin.” squawked over the PA system. The teen felt a hot curl in her stomach. It wasn’t the same curl when she saw her bike or clothes. No, this curl was an unpleasant feeling.  After a few minutes, through the glass panels of the office, she saw Clarke approaching with her bright smile, she was talking animatedly with who Lexa thought was Jasper Jordan from class. Clarke playfully snatched his goggles off of his head, laughing and giving them to the boy before opening the door with the smile never leaving her face. “Oh hey Green-Eyes!” the blonde greeted her as soon as she saw her. Indra moved to stand in front of Clarke. “Clarke Griffin?” The blonde teacher took a moment to take her carer, and morphed more into the Clarke, Lexa saw at the track as a more reserved smile took over her features. “Yes. Good morning. I’m Clarke Griffin.” Lexa watched Indra scrutinise Clarke in much the same manner that she had on her first day. “Can we talk somewhere more private?” “I’ll see what I can do, can you give me a few minutes please?” Her teacher answered. With Indra’s nod, Clarke went behind the admin desk and down a short hall leading to the staff area. Lexa was resigned. She didn’t know what she was resigned to. Whatever would happen she guessed. She realised that the curl she was feeling earlier was dread, and the longer Clarke took, the more intense it felt. Eventually Clarke reappeared with Mr Blake, they were talking quietly to each other but the teen had managed to catch a phrase here and there like “-Yes, page 78” and “-don’t just have them copy.” Obviously Clarke had managed to arrange him to substitute her class. When Mr Blake left, Clarke ushered them into a meeting room and gestured for them to sit down. Indra sat down, Lexa remained standing. “Would either of you like a coffee or a glass of water before we begin?” Both of them declined the offer. “Lexa,” Indra said, and the teen looked at her. “You should go to class.” No, Lexa didn’t want to go. She doesn’t know why she looked to Clarke, but she did. But the blonde said nothing. In fact, she wasn’t even looking in their direction. She had her head turned and was looking out the window. Clarke would not help her. “Can I stay? Please?” She asked quietly. Her carer studied her silently. This time Lexa did not shift her weight or fidget. She kept their eyes locked. “Ok.” Her carer agreed. With the permission given. The teen watched as the blonde turned back to both of them, and enquired “What can I do for you both this morning?” The teens leg started to bounce again and she saw a red pen on the table that she reached over to grab and began to fiddle with it. Indra’s voice filled the room, “Lexa said you gave her some clothes to race in the other night at a BMX track?” “Mhmm, yes. That’s right. We were at the track together on Wednesday night. It looked like she really wanted to try it out. But it’s track policy to wear protective clothing.” The blonde confirmed. “You provided the means for her to ride on the track?” The darker woman paraphrased her question. Clarke met her carer’s steady look with an unflinching one of her own, and reconfirmed “Yes.” Indra’s response was a single word. “Why?” Blue eyes darted to her for the first time since they entered the room. Then back to Indra. Clarke bit her lip. She was obviously trying to buy time. Whatever the answer was, Clarke didn’t seem to think it was appropriate to say in front of her.  Indra seemed to catch on to this too. “You can say it in front of Lexa. Answer honestly.” “Because I thought it would be good for her. At school, I haven’t seen any signs of interest in any activities besides reading in a room by herself. Ms Blake acknowledged her talent for soccer and encouraged her to sign up for the team. She decided not to. While Lexa is beginning to form bonds with a couple of people, it’s something she struggles with and is uncomfortable doing even when she tries. She has the will. I was trying to provide her with the tools of her choice. I wanted to give her an opportunity to try something out that could potentially assist her with her confidence, her social and emotional interactions and extend her comfort levels with something that she was interested in. And she showed a lot of interest in BMX racing.” Clarke explained after some initial hesitation. Lexa froze. She felt a mix of anger at the explanation but also that same nakedness that Indra made her feel. The room was silent as Indra considered the words. Lexa looked at the pen she was fidgeting with. She decided it was a very nice red colour. “Thank you for trying to help her, but I can’t afford it.” Indra repeated her earlier answer and she stood up, and continued “Thank you for your time Clarke Griffin.” Lexa stood up too. She felt empty. She didn’t know what she expected. “Wait!” Clarke called, Indra turned to her. “Please, sit back down.” Both brunettes did as she asked and politely waited to see what the teacher wanted. “If I can clear this with the higher ups.. Would you be opposed to Lexa working for it?” Clarke suggested. Lexa’s heart started to beat rapidly as she looked at Indra, mentally begging her. Indra said nothing, waiting for the teacher to elaborate. “I have spare bike parts, enough so that she can build a decent bike of her own. It’s something she could learn to do. She can pay it off by helping maintain the track, or volunteer helping coach the younger kids. She could volunteer to commentate the mock races, we’re always looking for commentators. There’s no shortage of things she could do” Clarke insisted. Indra’s expression didn’t change but her eyes went to Lexa. The teen knew she was contemplating the exchange. “Ok.” The woman finally said. “But, I want this written up and I want a copy of it. What each hour is worth, what the bike is worth, and a schedule of when she should be doing her hours, times and dates etcetera. Also, if she’s going to do this, you’re responsible for her transport too. I’ll have to give it to Child Services for record. She won’t start until I have that.” Clarke nodded her agreement and before Lexa even knew what she was doing she was hugging her carer. “Thank you!” Indra placed a hand on her arm and squeezed it gently. When the teen let go, she saw Clarke writing down some notes. She assumed it was the aspects of the document that Indra listed. She wanted to say something to the blonde too. But she didn’t know what. “Go to class Lexa. Have a good day.” Indra said to her. “You too.” She replied as she went to do as she was told. Lexa left the older two women there in the room. She didn’t even have enough time to make it to class before the lunch bell rang. She rediverted from her intended course, and headed to the cafeteria. The T.T.T was already there waiting for her. “Hi Sexy!” Raven greeted, and received her usual punch in the arm from Anya who also seemed to be a creature of habit, because she thrust her chocolate milk to Lexa with a terse “Here.” “Hi Lexa,” Costia acknowledged her. “Hey guys.” Lexa greeted back. Costia gave that small smile to her as she asked “We missed you in P.E today.” Raven snorted, “Don’t worry about missing anything. Ms Blake was fired up today. It was like being in boot camp.” Ms Blake was an interesting one. How can a person go from being so well, grumpy to being… Sarcastic? Dry? What is the adjective that she’s looking for? “Wakey wakey,” Raven said, poking her with a celery stick a couple of times. “No vegetable construction today so you have to antatognise me?” the green eyed teen attempted to quip. The quip was an awkward fail, but not completely if the sly smirk from Anya meant anything. Raven grumbled Clarke’s own words back to her “She’s got jokes now.” “You just like to pick on her because if Anya’s not kissing you she’s punching you.” Costia said in Lexa’s defense. “What’s this? A double date now?” Was Anya’s input that caused Raven to kiss her and cause both Costia and the awkward teen to blush. It was Saturday. Lexa still hadn’t gotten out of bed. Not because she had just woken up. She had been awake for hours. It was probably afternoon. Instead of going out there and getting breakfast the brunette had chosen to pull out and began to read Terry Goodkind’s - Stone of Tears. She knew she could only avoid exiting her room for so long. But still.. Rereading a book she’s already read was much more preferable than dealing with the unknown that was waiting out there. She sighed to herself. The time counted down as the choice to stay in her room had dwindled because her bladder was beginning to lose its patience with her. She forced herself to get up. Indra’s eyes were already watching her as she poked her head out of the bedroom. They followed her as she slipped into the bathroom. When she had finished her business and washed her hands, Lexa sat at her place at the table and peeled a banana for breakfast. The teen swore that her carer must have strategised her timing because Indra said the most curious thing to her when she had taken a bite. “For someone you thought was an idiot, that teacher of yours likes you.” With a mouth full of banana, the most the teen could do was quirk her brow in what she hoped was an appropriate response. This was not how Lexa expected today’s conversation to start. Wordlessly the woman handed her phone to her to look at. When Lexa looked at the screen she saw it was an email, with a document attached called L.W Contract.doc. Swallowing her mouthful, Lexa stated the obvious. “That’s fast.” Indra nodded, and continued. “Look at the time it was sent.” 3:45am. That means Clarke must have been up all night working on this.  Lexa opened the document, and the brunette was amazed by the detail that was put in. Every part, nut, bolt, reflectors, bike cables and even the tools like the shifter and pliers were listed and broken down and priced. Clarke had made sure to dot every i and to dash every t. Lexa was required to come in an hour early before training on Wednesdays and an hour early on Saturdays before races to assist in maintenance / watering down the track. She was also to go in on Mondays at 4:30pm to help teach early childhood kids to learn how to ride a bike or service the bikes at the track that needed it. Finally she was also required to maintain a minimum of a C+ for her grades. In return Clarke would provide transport, supervision and guidance in Lexa’s assigned tasks, assisting her in homework if required, and assist in the process of building the bike, provide protective gear and meals for those periods of time if Lexa required it and this would be on-going until the end of the semester. Lexa really had no idea how to react to this. If she were honest with herself she found it difficult to believe that Clarke could manage something so detailed. On the other, this wasn’t something just the teen was committed too. It was something the blonde teacher had committed herself as well. These were a lot for anyone to commit too. But she would do it, and with that. Lexa came to the conclusion that what she was feeling was determination . She scrolled down to the bottom to see that Clarke had already signed her signature, and so had Indra using her phone stylus pen. It was only her signature remaining. Lexa looked up at Indra, “You’re not mad at me?” The woman’s mouth curved upwards in the smallest yet physical smile that teen had ever seen from her as Indra answered “No. I’m proud of you.” Lexa couldn’t put into words the amount of confusion that caused in her. Indra was proud, but what did she do that was ‘good’? Indra continued, “In your own way you fought for what you wanted. I didn’t say ‘no’ because I wanted to, and while it was partial luck and not done all by yourself. You achieved your goal. Three weeks ago you never even would have asked me.” Her carer handed Lexa the stylus pen and she instructed her “Sign it.” The teen said nothing, she didn’t know what to say. The words ‘thank you’ felt too weak for what she wanted. Anything more seemed too intimate. Was it too intimate though? She had hugged the woman the day before. What the teen settled on instead was getting up and making Indra a cup of tea, and when she brought the tea to Indra she put a hand on her shoulder for a moment and signed the digital document. “Now that you’ve signed it, go get ready. Clarke will be here to pick you up in 45minutes. She’s picking you up an hour early so you both can discuss expectations.” Indra informed her. Lexa took a shower and changed into the long clothes that Clarke had given her. She wasn’t really sure what to think of her right now. Clarke had spoken about her to Indra as if she were a problem or a puzzle she needed to put together. The blonde had been factual and calculating in her verbal analysis to her. The teen felt angry at her. But Clarke helped her. When Lexa had resigned herself, Clarke had fought for her and came up with a solution that worked for their household. The teen couldn’t see what the blonde could be getting out of this. Yet, she had done it anyway.  She heard the sound of gravel shifting indicating the arrival of Clarke’s SUV. Lexa nodded at Indra on her way by. The woman nodded back. The car drive for Lexa felt uncomfortable. She hadn’t greeted the blonde back when Clarke had said hello and she pointedly looked out the window for the ride. It was as they were driving, Lexa’s anger turned to appreciation. Lexa was full of questions when they pulled up at a beach rather than the track. But she remained silent as she followed the blonde's lead and got out of the car when she did and waited when Clarke reached into the backseat pulling out two sandwiches and two water bottles. When the teacher had made sure Lexa was paying attention to her, she tossed one of each to the teen. Then walked over to the wooden fence line and resting against it and unwrapping her own sandwich and taking a mouthful. Lexa looked out to the sea, and enjoyed the ocean breeze in her face. She wasn’t hungry and she didn’t know how she felt. She didn’t know what to think and she had many questions. The teen turned to look at Clarke as the blonde ate. Clarke looked tired, she had bags under her eyes, and there were no signs of any sort of cheer on her face. Lexa remembered this feeling. Guilt . “Why?” She asked. Clarke’s blue eyes looked at her seriously, and she swallowed her food. “Why what?” “Why are you doing this?” Lexa elaborated. The blonde's serious blue eyes were beginning to unnerve her. She had not experienced a serious Clarke before until the meeting with Indra, and even then, that was directed to Indra. Clarke turned her gaze to the sea, and her simple answer made the teen freeze. “Because it made you happy.” The brunette tried to make sense of this as she blurted out, “That’s not what you told Indra.” “What I said to Indra was true. But they were secondary reasons. It doesn’t make them any less true.” She said Lexa didn’t reply. She had nothing to reply with. Facing the sea, she closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of the sea breeze on her face. She remembered how she once thought Clarke was manipulative and calculating. Now there was no question in her mind. But she was ok with that. No. The blonde wasn’t manipulating. She was caring. “In that movie Shrek, it said that people are like onions, they’re layered.” Lexa recalled. Clarke hummed in acknowledgement. The teen continued with her thought. “It was wrong. People are like diamonds, and show different sides when the light shines on them.”  When Clarke placed her hand on her shoulder. Lexa didn’t feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t hyper aware of the touch. She liked it. The blonde said gently “You’re a good person Lexa. Your problem isn’t confidence. It’s motivation, and all of your sides shine brightly.” She felt those butterflies again. “What’s your motivation?” She couldn’t help but ask.  Her teacher was silent for a while, before she started to stretch. She broke the moment by saying “We should go, the races will start soon and I need to show you around. You need to eat that sandwich on the way.” Clarke never answered her question. Clarke had never not answered a question before. When they arrived at the track, and the blonde had given her a tour of things like the store room, utility shed, the tuck shop area, they set up at one of the bleachers. “There won’t be any work for you this evening. Tonight your job is to listen to the commentator and learn the terminology.” Instructed the blonde. Lexa didn’t care what her job was. She felt a thrill. This was all absolutely fascinating. “I have to get changed, and warm up before the races begin. I’ll never hear the end of O’s ego if I let her beat me” Clarke smirked. Lexa nodded, while she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the riders who were already on the track. She was comforted by the return of Clarke’s playfulness she had become used to by now. The teen marveled at the racers as they stood on the pedals of their bikes at the starting gate. There were no signs of being unbalanced as they resumed their starting positions, their bikes on a downward angle. There appeared to be almost like a mini gate that their front wheels rested on to prevent them from rolling forward. Lexa had jumped in surprise as the gate slammed down flat on the ramp with a loud crashing sound as the racers took off. It had been intimidating for Lexa when she had gone on the track on Wednesday, she had been clumsy. The teen hadn’t fallen off at any point, so she did consider that to be a positive thing. She hoped one day she would be good enough to fly over the jumps or have the balance to scooter over the rhythms that appeared so effortlessly to them. Freedom was what came to mind as she tried to imagine herself doing those things. Ms Blake did in fact beat Clarke. When the blonde sat down next to her breathing heavily she shrugged saying that races were 3 or 5 races depending on how they were going for time and their placement points would be added up at the end of the night so there was still time to redeem herself from this loss. “Is it hard? Up there on the starting gate?” Lexa asked. Clarke seemed to understand what she meant. “No, tomorrow I’ll pick you up at 10am and we’ll start to build your bike. But balancing for the gate will be the first thing we can practice once your bike is done.” The P.A called for the next race, and the blonde put on her helmet and gloves. Her eyes went out of sight as the goggles were placed over them.  “Good luck.” Lexa said quietly. The blonde gave her a thumbs up and rode to the starting gate. The teen kept her eyes on the blonde as the teacher stood up on her pedals, getting into the starting position. The gate slammed down and they were off.  Lexa made mental notes that there appeared to be different techniques involved. There were some jumps that the blonde got a lot of air in like the Step Ups, or the Step downs, then there were other jumps that it appeared as if Clarke barely made it over them like the Doubles or Triples. It was apparent to her that this was done intentionally. But when they entered the Rhythms section on the last straight,  Clarke was on the inside of the track, close to the edge with Ms Blake right next to her. They both scootered over the same humps, and went to do one of those low jumps at the same time. There was a feeling in Lexa’s stomach that was very unpleasant and gave her an urge to go to her, when their bike bumped into each other in mid air, Ms Blake landed, but Clarke crashed to the ground. She watched as Clarke didn’t attempt to stand up, but maneuvered her bike off the track as quickly as she could. She seemed to be avoiding movement of her lower body. Lexa was even more surprised as Ms Blake kept riding on and passed the finish line. Lexa wasn’t aware of herself as she began to jump the gate, but Ms Blake ran in front of her and ushered her back over the fence back to the bleachers before the brunette teacher herself went to the blonde who hadn't picked herself up off the ground. Lexa felt angry at Ms Blake, even she could see when they were racing that Clarke had no room to move to put space between them. Ms Blake should have moved over. The brunette teacher wrapped one of Clarke’s arms around her shoulder and  wrapped her own arm around the blonde’s waist. The spectators began to applaud when Clarke was standing vertical. Clarke was also avoiding putting any weight on her left leg. Ms Blake helped the blonde hobble off the track.  Lexa jumped the fence again, and grabbed Clarke’s bike pushing it around and to the bleachers she had been sitting at, and the teen waited. Her leg began to bounce, and she couldn’t remove her eyes from the tiny office room Clarke had gone into. Concern . She was concerned about Clarke. Ms Blake was approaching her. “Clarke asked if I could take you home.” “I don’t want to go. Is she ok?” The teen demanded to know. “Clarke will be fine. It seems to be a sprain, She has an icepack on it now. But she’ll be here a while.” The woman explained. Lexa wanted to see for herself. “Can I see her?” A nod of the head was all the permission she needed. Inside the small office, she saw Clarke sitting on a couch with her left leg propped on a bag of ice that was on an office chair. “Green-Eyes.” Clarke greeted. It was the same tone she used at school. Bright and cheerful. Lexa stared at the propped up foot, and shifted her weight. “I was worried about you.” “You should be more worried about me if you stay too long here and Indra finds out.” The blonde teased. Lexa did not appreciate the implication or the joke itself. “You’ll be ok?” “Of course, Ms Blake will take you home. Indra has given me your number. I’ll call you tomorrow about building your bike.” She said. Lexa looked her in the eyes. “Not if you’re still hurt.” “Go home Lexa.” The words were simple, but there was a soft feeling in them. “Be careful?” Lexa had meant for it to be a statement. It came out as a question. The woman gave a thumbs up and Lexa went outside and found Ms Blake at the Bleachers waiting for her “Let’s go.” On the way home, she thought about the moment at the beach. Her thought from then repeated. Clarke never had answered her question. Lexa knew pragmatically that she shouldn’t expect to see or hear from Clarke today, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a thrum at the thought of beginning to build her bike. She experienced this feeling the night she first went to the track. Excitement . Nothing she did, seemed to distract her from wanting it now.  She looked at the clock. 10:10am. Her gut felt heavy. She wasn’t surprised Clarke didn’t come. But she had hoped. She laid on her back in bed, with her earbuds in blaring Thousand Foot Krutch - Phenomenon as she stared at her ceiling. She didn’t want to get up. Ms Blake suddenly blocked her interesting view of her ceiling, and Lexa scrambled to take her earbuds out. “I hope you’re ready. Let’s go. Clarke’s waiting.” The older brunette ushered her. Lexa sprang out of bed, got into Ms Blake’s car. Just like the night before the older woman didn’t say anything or attempt to make conversation, but every now and then out of the corner of her eyes she would see Ms Blake glance at her, before her eyes returned to the road. They arrived in front of a small looking house. There were a couple of trees in the yard but nothing else. Lexa wasn’t sure what Ms Blake meant when the woman said in a low voice “I hope it’s worth it. Good luck.” When the teen went to question it the teacher yelled out “She’s here blondie! I’m going now! Later!” Lexa got out of the car, and went up to the house and found the front door propped open. From the doorway she could make out a picture of a younger Ms Blake, Mr Blake and Clarke with another dark man all smiling widely at the camera. Lexa was surprised at the long beautiful length of her hair back then. At least she knew she was in the right house. She went in. Clarke was a bit of a slob. One half of her table was covered in folders, and stacks of papers with a few pens scattered and a laptop on the other half. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink, dishes in the drain rack that hadn’t been put away and the cardigan Lexa had once worn that had been half haphazardly thrown onto the sofa. Her walls were covered in various photos of people, most of them she didn’t recognise. It occurred to her that she knew nothing about the life of Clarke Griffin. Clarke Griffin knew everything about her life, currently. She saw a back door propped open like the front door had been and poked her head out. There was Clarke sitting at an outdoor table setting facing the door, a pair of crutches leaning against the chair she was sitting next to, and the same grey backpack from her SUV was on top of the table. Clarke looked even more tired today if that were possible. But tiredness apparently didn’t affect Clarke’s energy levels as the blonde smiled at her. “Lexa. You made it!” Lexa said nothing. Clarke’s left leg was strapped. “Let me know how you really feel Green-Eyes. Don’t be too excited about being here.” The blonde used the same tone Raven usually did. Sarcasm. The teen frowned. “You said you’d cancel today if you were hurt.” The blonde’s mouth tilted into that mischievous smirk that used to make Lexa feel so uncomfortable as she replied playfully “I believe what I said was to ‘go home’.” Lexa felt her brows furrow. She didn’t like that. “I was going to say go into the shed over there, and on the back wall is your bike frame. But if you’d rather sit around bored and wait until O comes back we can do that too.”  Clarke teased. Lexa rolled her eyes and entered the shed. She couldn’t believe the frame she saw. It looked like someone had gone out of their way to ruin the paintwork. The colours were faded, and scratched Sure, she hadn’t expected a nice shiny brand new frame. But this?  It doesn’t matter. She’ll still get to ride right? She picked up the frame. It was surprisingly light for how heavy it looked. She returned to the blonde silently. Clarke stood up leaning on the table. “Lay the frame on the table. This is an aluminium frame. Lightweight, a good material for a beginner. This is kind of an unfinished project of mine. Your first task is to remove as much of the paint as you can without scratching the alloy. If you look closely you can see different thicknesses of paint. I never got around to doing these spots here and here. In these spots you should use the metal brush, and when it’s the same thickness as everywhere else, switch to the sandpaper.” She indicated to different areas with her hand.  Lexa opened the bag and found the metal brush Clarke was referring to. She was about to make her first stroke when the blonde reiterated “Remember, be gentle, try to avoid scratching the aluminium itself.” She made her first stroke experimentally. Then another and another. Lexa kept her eyes on what she was doing, and her mind quietened down with the methodical motion of her task. Occasionally the teen would brush a thumb over the frame to feel the depth and thickness of the paint. It needed to be even after all. Well Clark never said. But it seemed logical that it should be done evenly right? “Green-Eyes!” The blonde called loudly startling her. She put down the brush. Lexa didn’t know what possessed her to mimic Ms Blake earlier but she acknowledged, “Blondie?” Clarke snorted. “Let’s go inside. It’s time for lunch, and I don’t know about you but I’m hot.” Now that Lexa had been brought to attention to it. She was hot. She felt beads of sweat running down her face, and the front and back of her shirt was damp with it. She shook her head. “I want to finish this.” “Lexa.” Clarke said seriously as she stood up positioning her crutches under her arms. “This won’t be finished today. Let’s go inside and have a rest. Have a drink and eat. This isn’t going anywhere. It’ll be here when we get back.” Once inside, Lexa pulled out a chair for Clarke to sit in. But Clarked ignored it heading into the kitchen. The teen grabbed her arm, and said “Let me? Sit down. Please?” She expected the blonde to resist. But it didn’t happen. In fact it was a miracle at all when the teacher did as she asked and without any sort of quip. Only informatively said “There’s sandwich stuff and fruit in the fridge. If you want to have something a little more heavier there’s different cooked meals in the freezer already portioned out. Fried rice, coconut curry. I think I have some left over spaghetti too.” Instead of choosing, the teen asked the woman “What do you feel like?” Clarke waved her hand “Whatever you want. If it’s from the freezer, 7 minutes in the microwave will warm it.” It was a waste of time to argue over who chose what they ate.  Lexa pulled out some cheese, tomato, ham and lettuce and made two ham and salad sandwiches, then reached into the fridge to grab two bananas and a bunch of grapes and served the food onto two plates and then poured two glasses of water. There wasn’t a lot of room on the paper filled table but she made it work as she set the plates and cups down. When Lexa had finished eating, she cleared the table of the dishes ignoring Clarke’s protests. It was a good feeling to help the blonde. It wasn’t the same as returning the favour to Indra. It just made her feel good. They both went back outside, the teen grabbed the sandpaper and began rubbing the frame with it, falling into the same methodic rhythm that she had before lunch. This time she found her mind didn’t become white noise. “Clarke?” She asked as she continued her task. “Did you always want to be a teacher?” “No.” Said the blonde. Lexa waited to see if Clarke would add anything more. If there was one thing Indra had taught Lexa, it was to be patient when conversing with others. “I wanted to be everything.” The teacher shared. “I wanted to be a police officer, a doctor. It didn’t matter if I was going to flip burgers or perform a heart operation. I just wanted to make a difference. In hindsight I guess I wanted a connection with what I did.” “You keep busy with lots of friends?” the brunette questioned. “Your pictures on the wall.” “Had.” The blonde said succinctly. “I had lots of friends.” “What do you do in your spare time? You know? Not including racing?” The teen asked. She never took her eyes off the frame she continued to sand. “My, my.” It was Clarke’s teasing voice. “Aren’t you the inquisitive social butterfly today?” Lexa paused her task, for a brief moment of time but didn’t look at Clarke.  She didn’t reply. And Clarke never volunteered an answer. In the blondes own way. She never answered any of Lexa’s questions. She repositioned her feet before starting to rub the frame down again. She worked in silence. Falling back into the comfort of the motions again.  It was when Lexa thought that she was finished that she realised the sun was beginning to set. O had returned to take her back home. Clarke ran her fingers over different parts of the frame and seemed to be satisfied. “I have a faculty meeting Tuesday after school, but if you want to hang around until I finish we can start painting this if you want. So you have some time to think about your colours. This was the longest part of building the bike. You did good work Green-Eyes. Take one of the meals from the freezer for dinner. Remember 7 minutes in the microwave.” Lexa nodded, and looked into her blue eyes. “Goodnight Clarke. Stay off your leg.” “Well hello good lookin’.” Raven greeted her as she took her seat next to Lexa. Lexa pondered how at first she had been uncomfortable when the other brunette had said these things. Now though, Lexa’s reaction was to roll her eyes. The act of rolling her eyes was one of her favourites and most used methods she used to practice to respond to the girl. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it. I can see you smiling. Well smiling for you that is.” Raven continued to rib her. “Raven. How was your weekend?” She asked, ignoring her words. “It’s good, me and Anya Netlix’d and chilled.” the other brunette winked. Lexa had no idea what ‘Netflix and chill’ was, but by the other girls' intonation she guessed that it didn’t mean that they sat lounging around watching Netflix. She responded with another eyeroll. The act of rolling one's eyes can be really versatile. “Well?” Raven prompted. “Well, what?” The green eyed teen asked. This time it was Raven who rolled her eyes. “What was your weekend like?” “Oh. It was eventful. I started reading a new book. I sanded off all the paint of a bike. I’m going to build one” She answered. Sassy Brunette looked at her for a while, before the girl finally confessed. “I don’t know whether to be sad for you, that you thought that was eventful or proud of you for talking about yourself without sounding like you’re constipated.” Another eye roll. Lexa really was fond of this motion of non-verbal communication. Lexa wasn’t sure what to expect when Clarke hobbled into the room after Mr Blake opened and held the door open for her. As the teacher took off her back pack at her own desk and began to take out its contents there were several questions fired. “What happened?”, “Are you alright?” Clarke sat down in her chair, leaning her crutches against the wall behind her. She smiled that brilliant smile of hers, and answered loudly over the number of voices “I saw the most beautiful person in the world, and I fell for them.” The kids hooted and hollered shouting out questions like, “Was it a woman or a man?”, “What did they look like?”. There were even encouragements  such as “You go girl!” The blonde winked.  “Did you really fall for someone?” Jasper asked. The blonde smirked. “Yep.” “Really?” Another student asked. Clarke rolled her eyes and deadpanned “I fell off my bike.” “No way!” Someone called out. The kids didn’t seem to know which explanation to believe. Clarke raised her voice smiling widely again. “Ok, ok. Settle down. Pair up with the person next to you please, come get one of these worksheets and work on them together please.” Lexa was grateful to find that when she lifted her eyes to meet Ravens. The other girl's eyes were already on her. Lexa stood up and went to get the paper off the blonde. She didn’t know what to expect, but she hadn’t expected that Clarke would hand her the worksheet just like she was any other student. After all, hadn’t Lexa been there when she injured herself? Didn’t Lexa visit her house and make the woman lunch? Didn’t she watch and talk with Lexa all day yesterday? Lexa didn’t want or expect special treatment, but the blonde’s lack of acknowledgement to their friendship made her chest tighten. Were they friends though ? Returning to Raven, she found the girl had pushed their desks together. “Raven?” Lexa sat down. “Sup, Lexa?” The other girl asked. Lexa bit her lip before asking, “What do you know about Clarke?” “Other than she’s like everyone’s best friend?” Raven’s brows furrowed in thought. “Mr Blake is obviously in love with her. Anyone can see that. Ms Blake is her best friend. Not sure how that works but whatever.” That was not the answer Lexa was looking for. That was about the Blake teachers. Not Clarke. “I mean, what do you know about her .” Lexa repeated the question with emphasis on the blonde. Raven frowned, “I don’t know, now that you made me think about it. Why?” “Nothing. I was just thinking. Everyone likes her but no one knows anything about her.” Lexa shared. The Red-Jacket brunette gave her a strange look she didn’t know how to interpret. “We better get started.” Lexa muttered looking at their worksheet. When lunch came. She joined her usual table with the T.T.T. Some things just don’t change. Another shove of the chocolate milk from Anya with the normal gruff "Here.", Raven making a flirty joke resulting in a punch from Anya. Costia’s shy but sweet smiles. “Hey Lexa, the rest of us are going to go to that burger joint after school, would you like to come?” Costia asked her quietly, her skin a soft hue of pink. “What time after school?” Lexa asked conscious of her commitment to teaching toddlers how to ride their bike. “Right after school. It’s that place across the road.” Anya filled in. It would be a tight fit, but she could make it work if she allocated 30minutes. She agreed. “I can’t stay for long. I have something else I need to do this afternoon.”  “Yeah? What?” Anya asked in her typical way. Lexa didn’t want to answer. It’s not that she cared if they knew. It was more she just didn’t like to talk about herself. She shifted her weight in her chair. It was Costia who saved her from answering. “Leave her alone. It’ll be nice to hang out after school, right Raven?” Raven grinned and tossed a grape hitting the shy girl in the forehead causing her to laugh and throw it back at her. “Bitch!” This was nice. They were nice. Nice . She didn’t think of it as a polite word this time. It was a synonym for like . After school they met up at the front of the school gates and walked to the cafe together. It was an unusual sight to see Raven wrap an arm around Anya’s waist. It was even more unusual that Anya hadn’t punched her. There was a shine in the grumpy girls eyes that didn’t feel grumpy at all. The T.T.T ordered. Lexa didn’t order and pulled out her water bottle. She didn’t know about this outing so she hadn’t asked Indra for any money. It didn’t seem to matter to the others though. They each took a small handful of fries and placed them on a napkin and shoved it in her direction while they spoke about things like the latest movie they watched or complaining about assigned homework. There seemed to be no words said between the three as they did this. Could an agreement be unspoken?  Lexa guessed she had seen the proof then and there. She was grateful they hadn’t made a big deal about it. The act itself was something that made her both shift uncomfortably but also reinforced to her that they were nice people. Not polite. Likeable and good people, and Lexa had fun . But when Lexa said her goodbyes and Costia walked with her back to the school so she could pick her bike up she was beginning to feel anxious. Little kids were so fragile. What if they fell and hurt themselves? Lexa came to the conclusion she must have been crazy to agree to this. She had agreed to be responsible for rugrats that barely even knew how to run. It was different when Costia bid her goodbye with a closed lipped smile and a “We should do that again.” It wasn’t the words that were different. It was the inflection that left Lexa feeling like she didn’t understand something. When Clarke and Ms Blake picked her up, the blonde showed little signs of her teacher persona. Lexa’s eyes widened in surprise as Ms Blake started singing the lyrics to Halestorm - Daughters of Darkness loudly. Lexa didn’t think she would ever figure the brunette teacher out. It turned out that it wasn’t all that scary when they got to the track. The children were older than she had expected, being 4 years or older. And they certainly didn’t need to be bubble wrapped. They were quite hardy beings with fragile egos and little patience. The children seemed to cry more from the surprise of the fall than they did from actually being hurt. Lexa found herself starting out awkwardly holding the back seat of a bike as a child of cuteness got on, and she would jog along with them as they pedaled. Once they built up some speed she let go. Lexa found herself running and checking them over, awkwardly hugging them if they were crying and praising them as they got up to have another try. Scary? This wasn’t scary. She felt pride . She wanted to do this again. On the way home Clarke leaned her chair back and was asleep by the time they arrived at Indra’s. After Lexa exited the car and shut the door. Ms Blake rolled down the window, and called out “Lexa!” Lexa stopped to indicate she had heard. But she didn’t turn around to face the woman. “Clarke was right about you. You’re a good one. Keep it up.” followed by the sound of the car pulling out. Good one? A good one what? “You barely have any time for yourself anymore Clarke. What happened to your self-care philosophy? You look like crap every time I see you.” Octavia asked as she set two cups of coffee on the table and sat down next to her brother who nodded in agreement. It had been a long day, and she was tired. The faculty meeting was over and everyone had left but them. Clarke sighed. She knew her friends meant well, and while what they were saying was true to a certain extent. The blonde believed in this, and she was already seeing big results. “It’s good for her.” She said to both of them, and took a sip of the coffee. “When Lexa first walked into my classroom she reminded me somewhat of a cautious dog. Now look at her.” Bellamy snorted, “Really Clarke? You’re comparing the girl to a cautious dog?” “Yes Bell, really. She never really hid herself, but if you got too close she backed away. Kind of like a cautious dog would do. But look at her now.” The blonde repeated. “She has friends. She willingly talks and makes conversation. I heard her trying to make jokes! She asks questions and shows eagerness-” “-She does Clarke, but you didn’t do all that.” O cut in. The blonde was getting irritated with her friends. “I’m not naive enough to think that it’s all because of me.” She snapped. Bellamy let out a breath and ran his hand through his hair and looked at her in earnest “Don’t be so defensive Princess. We both think what you’re doing with her is noble and good for her. We’re just worried about you. What O should be saying is that every time we see you lately you look exhausted. We used to hang out every couple of days, but when we’ve asked the last couple of times, you’re scratching around trying to catch up with marking, or lesson plans or you’re needing to make sure things are organised and prepared for her. We’re worried that maybe you’ve put too much on your plate. You can’t save the world.” “Lexa wants more and she doesn’t shy away from putting in the effort. She’s worth it. The changes in her already have been worth it.” Clarke said bluntly. She didn’t want to talk about this anymore. She understood where her friends were coming from. In a small way she felt the same. She did miss goofing off with them. But it’s barely been two weeks. Hell, it hasn’t even been a week and they’re acting like she’s abandoned them. If it hasn’t even been a week then Clarke didn’t want to consider the speech they would try to give her throughout the rest of the semester. O cleared her throat. “You’re right. She’s showing a lot of positive changes, and I think that it’s good for her. But that’s about Lexa. We’re talking about you. I’ll still help you with her Clarke. We just wanted to make sure that you remembered there’s a world outside of the students. You’re their teacher. Not their mother or their friend. Please remember to take care of yourself too.” The blonde stood up, and kept her weight on her right foot as she slung her backpack on, and picked up her crutches. Despite what her friends were implying, Clarke in fact has never once forgotten she was Lexa’s teacher. Nor has she broken any professional boundaries that exist. But rather than insist on that, she offered her friends an olive branch. “I know, thanks for caring guys. I’ll try and slow it down some. Why don’t we have dinner on Thursday night? Thursdays can be our new hangout evening? I promise, once her bike’s built there’ll be more time.” That was as much as they were getting from her. Bellamy picked up their dirty cups and washed them and O held the door open for her. They found Lexa sitting on the steps next to Costia talking quietly. They looked up when they noticed her and O. Clarke smiled playfully at Costia. “You know, if you let Green-Eyes here join your group, i’m going to have to come up with a new name. T.T.T just won’t do it if there’s four of you, and i’m not sure T.Q.T will work.  Costia giggled, “You’ll think of something.” Lexa looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Clarke, is it ok if Costia comes with us?” “I don’t think that’s a good idea Lexa. I need permission from the principal and her parents.” Clarke answered gently. Marcus hadn’t been too keen on granting it for Lexa to begin with. The blonde doubted he would give his support for another student who was doing just fine. Lexa stood up and helped Costia to her feet saying “Thanks for waiting with me.” Clarke noted with amusement that Costia’s cheeks heated up in a nice shade of pink. Someone has a crush. The blushing girl smiled “Anytime. See you tomorrow.” When they arrived at Clarke’s house, O asked “How long will you be? Do you need me to wait?” Clarke smiled at her friend. O could be a little bit rough around the edges and lacked the tact that her brother had, but they were both good friends. “You know you’re welcome here. It’s up to you.” “I’m going to jet Princess, call me when you’re ready.” Her brunette friend said with a wave before she was out the door. “Right, Green-Eyes?” Clarke said with a grin. “Did you think about the colours you wanted so we can start painting?” The teen’s eyes smiled, and she answered simply with a “Yes.” “Ok, go get your frame and handle bars from the shed, and we’ll talk about what you want.” The blonde instructed and hobbled to the outdoor table as Lexa did as she was told. When the teen returned, Clarke began to explain “The amount of colours we use will determine how many layers of paint we’ll need to do so we can keep it even. When we get the colours that you want we’ll finish it off with two layers of clear for a bit of protection.” Lexa seemed hesitant when she placed both pieces on the table. She swallowed uncertainly. “I think I want the handlebars black, but a bright blue on a dark red.” Clarke gave one of her bright smiles to the girl for encouragement. “Sounds like a plan. If you go back into the shed, in the yellow tool box you’ll find some string, non-latex gloves, a face mask and a rag. If you look in the metal shelves, you’ll find cans of spray paint. Grab the colours you want. When you come back, See that tree over there? With the branch that’s parallel to the ground? Tie your frame and handlebars here and here to it, make sure they’re not right next to each other either on the branch.” She said, indicating on the metal with her hand. As the blonde watched the teen do what she instructed, Clarke was impressed with her dedication. Lexa wanted this. Clarke couldn’t imagine spending an entire day sanding paint off anything and not once complaining about it. But Lexa did, and the teacher would dare say she enjoyed it if Lexa’s focus on the task was anything to go by. Clarke hobbled over to the branch to inspect the knots. “Ok, that rag you got. Go rinse it out, and wring it out. We want the cloth to be more damp than wet, and come wipe these down. It’ll probably take a couple of times. We want to get all the paint chips and dust off these before we start painting. Put on the mask and the gloves. Now you said, a blue against red? These paint cans are good for close use. When you spray, a long steady stroke across.” The blonde was really impressed with how meticulous and careful Lexa was in her work. It really was a treat for Clarke to watch the focus and care the teen used in any of her tasks. Whether it was things to do with her bike. Or her leaning over her desk and completing her classroom task. Lexa started out with doing the handlebars first with the black.  Clarke guided her “Now the blue you chose for the base of the frame.” Lexa’s brows furrowed. “But I want the red to be the base colour.” “I promise it will be.” Clarke chuckled. “Trust me. Start with the blue.” The teen gave her a perplexed look, “I do. I do trust you Clarke.” She confessed, and began spraying the blue paint. “Looks good Lexa.” Clarke praised when she finished. “Not much else we can do now until it dries. It’ll take about 6 hours. So we can do our next coat another day. Let’s go inside. Is there any homework you need help with?” Lexa shook her head.  “Do you want to head home?” Another shake of the teens head. They both sat down on the sofa. “Clarke?” Lexa started. “Green-Eyes?” She acknowledged. The teen shifted. She was uncomfortable. “Can you tell me about you?” The blonde gazed at Lexa as she contemplated her answer. Clarke understood that Lexa was one of those people who had to get a much deeper grasp of the people around her, that hadn’t been hard to tell when Lexa arrived into her classroom. How much information was too much? Clarke liked the teen, and she cared about her. But they weren’t friends and she had boundaries to keep. She decided to deflect with humour and a partial truth. “I’m as boring as they come Green-Eyes. If I’m not teaching, i’m riding. Sometimes O and Bell literally drag me out. But I don’t have much outside of that. I’m going to grow up and be one of those old cat ladies the kids will laugh at and make fun of.” “No one knows anything about you.” The teen blurted out. Clarke grinned widely and asked, “Doesn’t everyone know everything they need to about me?” Lexa frowned. It was clear to the blonde that the teen wasn’t satisfied with her answers. The teen bit her lip and replied. “I guess so.” “Don’t I try to help everyone? Try to do the right thing? Make class interesting for them? Talk when they want someone to talk to? Be someone that they can trust?” Clarke asked her. “Yes..” Lexa answered reluctantly. The blonde used Lexa’s lack of social confidence against her, and put an end to the topic. Smiling with gentleness she asked “Then that’s all anyone has to know right?” The teens green eyes held an acceptance to them when she nodded. “Clarke?” Lexa asked again. She arched a brow “Green-Eyes.”  “That food in the freezer. That’s already cooked. Did you cook them?” The brunette asked. Clarke nodded. She supposed there was no harm in answering this. “It was easier for me to do an all day cook session for the week and just nukulate them when I was hungry. I keep myself pretty busy. Why?” “Well Indra works night shifts. I was wondering if you could teach me so she didn’t have to cook when she came home.” Lexa explained.  It actually explained a lot. Why Indra insisted on Clarke providing transport, and meals for Lexa. Besides, cooking was a good skill to learn. “Sure. Would you like to learn something now?” The teens eyes shot up to hers. Obviously she hadn’t expected to cook today even if Clarke had agreed. “There’s some mince in the fridge. I was planning on making some shepherd's pie. It will take about an hour to cook.” She explained. Lexa stood up, and Clarke picked up her crutches to follow the teen to the kitchen. “There’s a peeler in the top drawer. I expect you know how to make mashed potatoes?” She asked. The brunette nodded, and found the chopping board, peeler, a knife and the potatoes setting them up on the counter. Once the potatoes were on the stove.  Clarke directed her to get the fry pan, the minced garlic, minced ginger and to dice an onion. “Add in one of the little spoons of ginger, two little spoons of garlic and the onion with the mince into the pan and mix it together. Lightly brown it on the stove. Also, preheat the oven to 180C. The mince will cook before the potatoes are ready to mash.” The blonde liked watching how Lexa worked. The amount of attention and patience she showed her task really said something about the teen’s character. Lexa never rushed, and always seemed to check what she did. Lexa always did the task right. It was a quality Clarke really admired about her. Sure enough the mince was browned first. Clarke pointed to a cupboard and Lexa got a large square roasting pan out and emptied the meat into it. “Ok, in the fridge are pre sliced mushrooms in a container, in the freezer are a mixed bag of veggies. Corn, carrot and peas. Put all the mushrooms and about a quarter of the bag of veggies on top of the mince.” “These are a lot of mushrooms.” Lexa commented quietly. Clarke chuckled. “Never cooked mushrooms before? They’ll shrink as they cook. Now go make some gravy. You don’t need to make a lot of gravy. Just a little bit. But make it really thick. Almost globby. When the vegetables cook in the oven it will thin the gravy out quite a bit. The potatoes should be ready shortly after that.” Lexa poured the gravy over the meat and vegetable mixture, and Clarke handed her a serving spoon. “Mix it well then even it out in the pan. After that. Mash the potatoes and layer the potatoes evenly on top. If you want to sprinkle some cheese on top you can. Then put it in the oven and in about half an hour it’ll be ready to eat.” When the pan was in the oven. Clarke was grateful for her small kitchen. It meant moving things around was not a difficult task with her leg. She began to wash the things Lexa had used to cook with. “Clarke?” The teen called. “Yes, Green-eyed one?” She answered. “Thank you.” It was said simply and factually. But the blonde knew it was layered. Lexa didn’t need to say that she was thanking her for more than just showing her how to cook. Clarke grinned and playfully winked at her. “I wouldn’t want you poisoning yourself. Or Indra for that matter.” Lexa rolled her eyes and huffed. “In that cupboard there’s a bunch of reusable food containers. When it’s done cooking you can serve them into those and take some home with you, I’m stealing two of them though.” She informed the teen. When O had come to take the teen home, Lexa had stared at her impassively through the window as they drove off. Clarke smiled to herself. Lexa really was amazing in her own right. One day O and Bell would see that. The blonde had no doubt in her mind, that investing into Lexa would be worth it. The next few days came and went like a whirlwind for Lexa. She was always so busy now. She always woke up and had her morning talks with Indra before she went to school. Indra had come home on Tuesday night / early Wednesday morning and praised Lexa for the Shepard’s Pie that she had left in the fridge for her carer. For Lexa’s part, she still wasn’t comfortable with appreciation being directed towards her, but she hadn’t fidgeted, and forced herself to acknowledge Indra’s ‘thank you’ with a ‘you’re welcome’ of her own.  Every morning before class she still stood opposite of Clarke’s door and greeted her good morning. Mr Blake’s class were just as boring as ever. If he taught the class with even half of the demeanor he showed the day they were on their bikes, Lexa doubted he’d have a class of half asleep drooling students. Ms Blake was still ever the drill sergeant in P.E but she seemed to ease up on calling her out as much. She also seemed as if she were watching Lexa more closely as if trying to figure something out. But like Clarke, she never brought up seeing or speaking to each other outside of school. That was the only thing that frustrated her about the blonde teacher. She never acknowledged their interactions outside of the classroom. Her classes were still engaging, and switched between classroom discussions, to group work to working solo. Still with the jokes, and quips and the positive energy the teen looked forward to whenever she had English.  But still, Clarke never gave her one of the woman’s personal more reserved smiles in the class. She never made even an inside joke with her that referenced something that occurred outside of the class. Lexa didn’t know why this bothered her, and she hasn’t had the time to really sit down and think about it to work it out in her own head. Lexa was also growing closer to the T.T.T. Lexa felt like she related to Anya the best out of the three who never said more than she needed to. Lexa appreciated her candor and bluntness. She had good days and bad days with Raven.  Raven was one of those people she could only spend small amounts of time with due to her out there attitude. She honestly liked the girl. Just sometimes she could be a bit much. There was never any mistaking when Raven Reyes entered the room. Lastly there was sweet considerate Costia, who always went out of her way to spend extra time with her.  Costia had taken to waiting after school with her, waiting for Clarke to finish up the things she needed to. Costia never once asked Lexa why she waited for, and left with the blonde. Lexa never offered the information. But the best thing about the T.T.T was she could just be herself. There was never any pressure for anything more. On Wednesday after school, Clarke and Ms Blake had taken the teen back to the blondes house, and asked about the design pattern she wanted, they had wiped the frame down then placed masking tape where Lexa had explained she wanted the blue to show, and Clarke had said to spray paint with the red she had chosen. Lexa had also done another coat of black on the handlebars. At the track, her nerves returned. Clarke had assigned her to help water the track down explaining that they wanted the track ‘damp’ not wet and definitely not to make any puddles. After that she was assigned customer service duty (being the cashier for the tuckshop). Lexa felt confident with her social skills. Sort of. Only with people she interacted with on a regular basis.  These were not people she interacted with on a regular basis. And when she fidgeted and shifted her eyes around, Clarke appeared to have no sympathy for her as she said “You’re teaching their kids to ride bikes and you’re learning how to ensure the track is safe for others to ride on. It’s only fair they get to know you at least a little.” before she hobbled off to sit at one of the bleachers. To the teens' surprise, it wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated. Customers were patient with her as she fumbled around learning where the different sale items were, or when she was struggling with figuring out the till. Nor were the customers as frequent. That meant that she had a lot of time to watch the racers fly over the track. Lexa tried to take note how they positioned their bodies over the bikes, or how they leaned and pushed or pulled their bikes. Lexa was entranced. She will be as good as them one day. On Thursday, Clarke had managed to ambush Lexa before she met up with the T.T.T at lunch period. O had driven them back to Clarke’s house and Lexa had peeled off the masking tape. Even though the blue had been the first layer, and the red the second layer, it was as Clarke had promised. Blue on red.  She wiped the frame down again and did a coat of clear spray for a layer of protection the blonde explained. They ate lunch quickly before applying a final coat of clear. Clarke had explained they had to wait a minimum of 6hours before Lexa could put masking tape over the coat. But they could wait 15minutes between different layers.  Lexa was excited, this meant that they were at the stage they could begin to assemble the bike. But her excitement had disappeared quickly as a deep disappointment took over her. The blonde had told her they couldn’t start building after school. “I have other commitments this afternoon, and I need to do some marking tomorrow after school. So we’ll start putting together your bike Saturday morning huh Green-Eyes?” Clarke explained with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. Lexa nodded and swallowed down her disappointment. “It’s ok.” She wasn’t disappointed or upset with Clarke. She just itched to be on the track and ride. The teen supposed she could turn this into an opportunity though. She hasn’t had anytime to do some reading lately. Or she could hang out with the T.T.T. It was with that thought, that led her to inviting Costia over after school. She hoped Indra wouldn’t mind. She never thought to ever ask her carer about if she could have friends over. Costia had nodded as shyly as ever, her face beet red and Lexa walked her bike alongside her friend back to her place.  Indra was on the couch laying down and when Lexa opened the door the woman sat up. Looking between both girls. Lexa shifted her weight. “Costia, this is my carer Indra. Indra, this is Costia.. She’s a friend from school.” “Costia Green, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Indra greeted. Costia gave her a small smile, “Hello Indra” “Uh, we’re going to my room if you need me.” Lexa said. This was highly uncomfortable, and she wanted out right now. Indra nodded, and Lexa led the other brunette to her room, and indicated for her to sit at the chair in front of her homework desk. Lexa sat on her bed. “Indra’s my carer.. My foster mother.” She told Costia as she stared at her wardrobe. “Mmm, we all figured something was up.” Costia said gently. “Not that you talk about yourself at all.. You would always go stiff when we’d talk about home and things.” “I’ve been with Indra for a while I guess, just over a month. She’s nice.” Lexa was now picking at a loose thread of her blanket. The other brunette was reading the book titles on her bookshelf, when said “Like Anya said, we don’t care.” Lexa raised her eyes to meet Costia’s. The girl was biting her lip. “Lexa?” “Yes?” She replied. “You don’t have to answer this.. But have you ever had someone hug you?” Costia seemed nervous. The green eyed teen thought about it. She knew what a hug was. But she wasn’t naturally inclined to have physical contact willingly. Clarke sometimes did it, and she was ok with it, and there was that time she hugged Indra. But is her hugging Indra the same as being hugged? “Does giving a hug count?” She asked. Costia looked sad at the answer. Why was Costia sad? The shy brunette stood up, and held out her hand to her. Lexa took it and stood up. Costia kept her eyes on her own green ones as she took a step forward. She seemed to be looking for something. Lexa gasped when she felt Costia’s around wrap around her waist gently and she rested her head on her shoulder. They didn’t move. Lexa was uncomfortable and stiff. Costia didn’t move. She just stayed still, and slowly Lexa felt herself beginning to relax. Her own arms came around the girl too. This is nice. Hugging is nice.  Costia wasn’t nice like Raven or Anya.  She was the same sort of nice that Indra and Clarke were. Lexa was proud of herself. She had been already looking forward to Saturday when she was nicely surprised by Clarke picking her up, her leg unstrapped and no crutches in sight. The blonde had been right in saying that removing the paint and repainting the frame was the longest part. She and Clarke had assembled her bike, it had taken most of the day.  The blonde made Lexa put together the parts, explaining what each piece was called, and guiding her through the process. But Clarke did the fine tuning herself, like using the pliers to adjust the tension of her break cable, or the tension of her chain. It had been amazing to watch Clarke make the proper adjustments after explaining what she was doing. Lexa didn’t know what had her attention more. The expression of complete concentration of the blonde who bit her lip slightly when she was finding something difficult, or watching the task itself. It was a beautiful bike. They were covered in sweat and dirt, and their hands were covered in black bike grease as they admired the finished product.  “Go wash your hands really well and try it out Green-Eyes, and hey. Don’t hold back that smile of yours. You have every reason to be proud of what you’ve done. You did this. No one did it for you. Now wash your hands and reap your reward.” Clarke said. Clarke was right. Lexa did this. She didn’t know how when she started, and the blonde helped her. But she did it. She did the work, she put in the time and she chose this. She came back outside after washing her hands, and lifted the bike. It wasn’t as light as Clarke’s but it was much, much lighter than her mountain bike. Lexa put it down and sat on it. Her bike seat wasn’t the most comfortable. She didn’t suppose it needed to be. She would be spending most of her time standing on her pedals. She tightened her hold on the handlebar grips -  Her analysis was broken by Clarke. “-Green-Eyes. I need you to take it for a spin and check both your back pedal brake and your handlebar brake. You’re not racing on that thing until we know it’s done properly.” Lexa started to pedal and did a lap of the yard. Her brakes worked well. “Does this mean I can race tonight?” “You can if you want. But I wouldn’t advise it just yet. Racing is a bit different than doing a circuit around the track Lexa.” Clarke replied. The brunette thought about it. Clarke wasn’t telling her no. But didn’t think she should. Once again the blonde was giving her a choice, and would respect the choice. There was an instinctive knowledge that no matter what happened Clarke would never let anything bad happen. And if something happened Clarke would be there. Lexa also acknowledged that this was also how she felt about Indra. This feeling was security . Lexa shifted her weight and Clarke arched a brow at her. “What’s wrong Lexa?” “Do you think we can take a couple of those freezer meals back to Indra’s and have dinner there before we go to the track..?” She asked. The teen really wanted to show Indra her bike. She’s never woken Indra up before work, she hoped her carer wouldn’t mind. She didn’t think Indra would mind.  Clarke smiled a bright smile. It wasn’t the same wide smile she used at school. No, this one caused the corner of her eyes to crinkle and her eyes to shine brighter and bluer. “Sure. Go pick out dinner and I’ll load the bikes up.” Indra shot up off the couch at the sound of their entrance into the house. “You’re back early.” “We haven't been to the track yet. I want to show you something. I brought dinner?” Lexa said. Indra’s eyes shot up behind her, and Lexa watched something that she thought was amazing. She had read about silent conversations occurring in her books, signals sent through minute changes in a person's facial expression. There were no words to describe it as her eyes darted back and forth between the two women. Indra’s brow rose slightly and in response Clarke’s lip curled and she gave a slight nod. Whatever it was they said to each other. It caused Lexa to wonder briefly if miracles did in fact occur with what happened next. “Lexa, you don’t have to bribe me with dinner to spend time with you.” Indra deadpanned. The teen was confused. Was she bribing Indra with dinner just so she could look at her bike? She bit her lip and shuffled awkwardly. “I didn't mean it like that. I’m sorry..” The sound of Clarke’s laughter filled the room loudly. Lexa shot her eyes up at Clarke to see Clarke was looking between her and Indra as she continued to laugh. What was so funny? Lexa turned to Indra, and to her surprise Indra’s face held a smile. She wasn’t laughing but it was one of the biggest smiles the brunette had seen from the woman. When Clarke managed to stop laughing, she bent and pressed her lips against Lexa’s ear and whispered. “She’s teasing you Green-Eyes.”  Indra told a joke. Straightening up, Clarke asked Indra. “You mind if I use your microwave while Lexa occupies you?” Indra nodded, and then followed Lexa’s lead outside. The blonde had been considerate enough to load Lexa’s bike last on the rack so it had full visibility. “We put it together today.” Lexa explained as she touched the handle of her bike to indicate to Indra which was hers. Indra stepped closer to the bike and ran her hand along the frame and the handlebars before spinning one of the tyres. “You did this?” She asked. “Yes.” The teen answered. Indra asked again, with a tone that Lexa couldn’t identify. “You did this? By yourself?” “Yes, I even painted it.” Lexa was bragging. She read about bragging in books. But she was so proud, and happy. Not just happy with a circumstance, or an item or an event. But happy with herself. She had never been happy with herself before. Now she wondered how she lived without the feeling of at least being satisfied with herself. “It looks brand new, like it was bought out of a store.” Her carer praised. Indra turned to the brunette, with a smile and her eyes shone brightly with pride. “Thank you, for coming and showing me this. But please don’t kill yourself on it.” Lexa awkwardly took a step towards her, her arms were shaking as they rose. She hugged the woman stiffly. Clarke's voice was heard through the door breaking the moment. “Dinner’s ready!” Throughout dinner Clarke kept quiet but still held her smile. Her eyes darting to the speaker of the moment. Indra asked Lexa questions about the processes she went through to build the bike, the teen explained in length how they did it from removing the paint, to applying different layers of paint and the use of the masking tape, to assembling the pieces and how to adjust loosen the tension of the bike cables and whatever else Indra asked about. It would only occur to Lexa much later that these two people eating dinner with her, were so, so important to her. She couldn’t picture her life not involving either of them. When they left Indra’s Lexa was gazing out the window when she realised something. “We’re not going to the track?” “No.” The blonde answered. “Where are we going then?” She questioned. “You’ll see.” Lexa could hear the smile in her voice. The teens' eyes lit up as she saw the construction site she first saw the Blake teachers and Clarke at come into view. They got out of the SUV and Clarke unloaded the bikes and tossed Lexa her helmet and gloves. “You worked hard today. Now let’s play hard.” “What do you want me to do?” Lexa was uncertain now. Clarke looked at her. Her eyes still seemed bluer than usual. “What do you want to do?” “What am I supposed to do?” She asked again without a second thought. The blonde laughed softly. “Green-Eyes, there is no wrong way or right way. It’s what you want to do and what works for you. If you want to ride around and use different things as jumps, then do that. If you want to see how long you can wheelie, then do that instead. No matter what you choose to do you’ll become familiar with your bike. Just trust your instincts.” Trust your instincts. Right.  “Clarke? Can you show me how to balance on the gate?” She asked. Clarke nodded, “It’s not as fun as actually riding your bike, but we can start with that if you want. Follow me to that wall over there, then get off your bike.” Lexa did what she was told. She stood next to her bike when Clarke came up behind her bike and pushed it forward so the front wheel was pressed against the wall. “Pedals should be parallel to the ground. Everytime. This will be the easiest way to hold and shift your balance as you need. Now get on your bike and don’t pedal at all. Just balance as long as you can.” The blonde advised. The teen placed her feet on the pedals and stood up, and a few seconds later lost her balance and a foot shot out to prevent her fall. “Try again, this time I’ll hold the bike to start with.” Clarke said. Lexa did it again, She didn’t have as much room to move her body around her bike. Clarke’s hands gripped the bottom of her seat and the brunette could feel body heat of the blondes front against her lower back. She stood up the best she could, trying to concentrate on balancing. She felt colder when Clarke stepped back and took her body heat with her. And definitely felt when Clarke let go of the seat. The teens foot shot out again before she could fall. The blonde chuckled. “It’s a lot harder to do on flat ground. Because you’re at an angle on the starting gate, it’s so much easier. Go ride now and show me what you can do. You can practice this at home any time.” Lexa didn’t use the jumps that Clarke and the others built, instead she tested her speed and balance, riding as fast as she could on the flat ground and occasionally she tried to do wheelies. She couldn’t do them even a fraction of the time she had seen Clarke do that one day. But she felt weightless, focused and free. Lexa could learn to live with this feeling.  She was determined to make this feeling a way of life for herself. “So I met someone.” Octavia shared.  Clarke arched a brow at her friend and asked, “Oh yeah? What’s he like?” before taking a bite from her burger. Her, Octavia and Bellamy had decided to grab a bite to eat after staying at school an hour after teaching hours had finished. “Hot, and ripped.” Her brunette friend said as she popped a fry into her mouth. “I don’t want to know about this. As far as I’m concerned O’s still a virgin.” Bellamy complained. The blonde chuckled, “Well, you’re in for a nasty reality check then Bell.” “Lincoln, looks badass but he’s a gentle giant. A real gentleman. We’ve been getting to know each other while you were working on your pet project.” Octavia continued. “Pet project?” Clarke asked with a warning tone. A warning tone that both her friends seemed oblivious too as Bellamy answered “Lexa.” “She’s not my pet project, and I haven’t seen her outside of class since Saturday when we finished her bike.” She defended. Octavia flung a fry at her, “Which isn’t saying much since it’s only Monday afternoon, which means you’ll be leaving here shortly to take her to the track.” Clarke rolled her eyes, she wished her friends understood. She wished they didn’t take her explanations as defensiveness. “That girl is almost unrecognisable. She walked into the classroom almost glowing today.” Bellamy eyed her for a moment before he took a breath, “Princess, are you sure you’re not crossing any lines?” Clarke looked at Octavia and found her looking at her intently too. The blonde didn’t appreciate the two duoing up against her. “She’s our student.” Clarke stood up, and put a twenty on the table. “I don’t think of her as anything else.” and she walked out of the place and got into her car. Clarke didn’t go directly to Lexa’s. She drove around for a bit aimlessly. She was angry at the implications her friends had made. They have known each other since third grade. They should know her better than this. She would never take advantage of a student. There was a trust there that she would never breach.  Maybe one day they could be friends under different circumstances. If there were a day the blonde might not think of Lexa as a student and if Lexa in return didn’t view her as an authoritative figure of some sort. Her phone dinged, alerting her of a text message. Clarke headed towards Indra’s and pulled into the driveway where Lexa was already waiting. The blonde looked at her phone as the teen got into the car. Octavia Blake (16:05): You think of her as a student. Does she still think of you as a teacher? Clarke was an idiot. She had misinterpreted them. They weren’t concerned she was crossing any boundaries, they were concerned that Lexa’s perception of what their boundaries were now, may be crossing the line. The blonde looked at the teen as she got into the car next to her and forced a smile, “Hi Green-Eyes. Ready to teach some kiddies?” “It’ll be the same as last week?” Lexa asked. Clarke nodded. “Yes, you were great with them last week. Don’t be afraid to talk to them and get to know them, kids love attention, it makes them feel that they matter.” The teens voice was soft when she answered “They do.” There was something to be said about the way Lexa bent down to the child she was working with as they spoke. A free showing kindness that the teen didn’t show anywhere else as she tickled them hello and helped them strap on their helmets. The way she sat on the ground without any concern for cleanliness or hygiene when a child fell over and she took them into her lap and brushed their tears away with a gentle thumb and a few soft words. There was something in the way the blondes stomach lurched uncomfortably as Octavia’s text message echoed in her mind whenever Lexa met her eyes, silently asking for approval, or giving a smile of her own to her.  Perhaps it would be a good thing Clarke had plans at the end of the end of the semester. Lexa has taken the first steps she needed to, she’ll be able to flourish on her accord, on her terms. Maybe with the friendship of the T.T.T, Lexa will show peers her age the same Lexa she’s letting these children see. Thinking of her arrangements, the blonde was overcome with a sense of loss. She wouldn’t be here to see those possible changes in Lexa. But she would return, and when she did Clarke had no doubt that Lexa will be magnificent. When the hour was up, Clarke was filled with pride for the girl when the children mobbed her legs, and she sat down carefully letting each of them hug her wherever they could reach her. She was filled with happiness as Lexa laughed freely and joyfully to them as she tried to hug them all at the same time, her arms wrapping around as many of the kids as she could. It was easy to see the kids already loved her, and in return she loved them back. Lexa has come such a long way in such a short amount of time. But she wants it. She’ll go further yet. “Wanna grab a bite to eat before I drop you home?” The blonde asked. She wasn’t hungry herself but she knew Lexa probably would be. The teen nodded, “Can we cook something again? I liked doing that.” That wasn’t what Clarke had in mind, she wasn’t prepared for it. “I don’t have anything pulled out tonight to cook. Why don’t we do that on Wednesday after training?” “Ok.” Lexa replied. “Anything in particular you’re in the mood for now?” Clarke asked. “Pizza?” Was the answer. The blonde chuckled, she should have known. “What is it about kids and pizza?” It was obviously the wrong thing to say. Clarke hadn’t been thinking about it when she voiced her amusement. Because Lexa started to fidget and shuffle in the passenger seat. “I haven’t eaten it much. Just a couple of times.” The brunette explained awkwardly. Clarke felt like such an ass. She hadn’t meant to make fun of the teen. She had only meant to make fun of teens as a whole. They did like their pizzas. “Well, let’s get you some pizza then Green-eyes.” She pulled up to Mia’s Pizzeria. If Lexa has only had pizza a few times then the Blonde is going to take her to the best pizza joint in town. The brunette ordered a small supreme. “Want some garlic bread too?” Clarke asked. Lexa shook her head. Clarke ordered her garlic bread anyway. You can’t have pizza without garlic bread. They sat at a table waiting for their food. Clarke asked her “How’s your homework and grades? I’ve been meaning to ask you about them over the last couple of weeks but kept forgetting.” “You grade me, and don’t Mr and Ms Blake tell you?” Lexa answered with her own question. The girl had a point, and the blonde explained. “We don’t specifically talk about your grades Lexa. Bell will tell me if you did well or not, but he won’t let me know your score on a paper or a quiz. O and I don’t really talk about grades and things, and yes. I do grade you. I was asking to see how you felt you were doing.” “I’m doing ok I think?” The teen answered. Clarke grinned, and went back to their old joke. “Are you asking me? Or telling me?” Lexa flushed. Jeez, she is just so predictable. The blonde took a moment to take her in. She was covered in dust from the kids and the track. Her hair was in her usual loose ponytail, showing off her jawline. She sat straight and taller than she used to. Her eyes seemed to be greener and sparkle with her recently found confidence and happiness. It won’t be long until Lexa Woods becomes a heartbreaker. Clarke doubted Lexa would ever do it on purpose. But unintentionally through her naivety and awkwardness with her social skills. Speaking of heartbreakers.  Their waitress who came to serve them was none other than one of Clarke’s old booty calls from college. “Hey gorgeous, I haven’t seen you around in a while.” “Oh, hey Niylah. Sorry I guess I fell off the map after college. Lexa, do you want anything to drink?” Clarke replied.  This was uncomfortable. Lexa looked just as uncomfortable. “Just water please.” “And a water for me too please.” Clarke said to Niylah. “Anytime. Don’t be shy if you ever want to reappear on the map again.” The waitress said with a smile. When Niylah was out of sight, the brunette blurted out. “You like girls?” “I like both.” Clarked said. She didn’t think this was appropriate to discuss. But there was no point pretending the last two minutes didn’t occur.  Lexa was socially oblivious. Not stupid. When Niylah came with their water and Lexa’s pizza she threw a wink at Clarke and sauntered off. Clarke observed Lexa again as she began eating. The blonde suspected if Raven and Costia had their way the teen’s lacking social skills will have a drastic boost. The blondes' sense of loss returned. There wasn’t much time left before the end of the semester was here. Clarke didn’t want to be here right now, but she smiled at the brunette as she finished eating. When they were in the car she turned to Lexa, “Do you mind if we go for a drive?” The brunette shrugged, “Where are we going?” “No where. Anywhere.” Clarke answered. She saw from the corner of her eye the teen give her a puzzled look. Clarke didn’t acknowledge it. Clarke really didn’t want to acknowledge anything. “Clarke?” Lexa asked after a few minutes of driving. The blonde answered, not removing her eyes from the road. “Lexa?” Lexa’s voice came out hesitant and unsure, “Are you ok?” Clarke felt her lips curl into a small smile. Nothing got past her. The teen was too observant for her own good. “Everything’s fine Green-Eyes.” She better take the brunette home, before this turned awkward and Lexa asked more questions. When she pulled up to Indra’s driveway. In her soft way that only Lexa could manage she said “Goodnight Clarke.” Clarke forced herself to smile and replied “Goodnight Ms Lexa Woods.” She saw the teen frown as she shut the door and stood there, as the blonde drove off. When she got home she knew she was in for a restless night of sleeping and she buried herself in her lesson plans. Lexa was in the same place as she was every morning, leaning against the wall next to the door of Mr Blake’s classroom when Costia came over and gave her a small hug. The friend had given her a few small hugs the day before and on Monday too. Almost as if to make a statement to her regarding hugs. She never forced Lexa, and she never hugged her in front of Anya or Raven. It was always done slowly to give the green eyed teen a chance to back away, and she also never seemed to be offended if Lexa didn’t hug her back. Right now though, Lexa did not hug her back. Nor did she give Costia a hello. She hadn’t given Clarke a hello either when the blonde entered her classroom. “How was coaching yesterday?” Costia asked. Lexa had told Costia on Thursday when she came over about her home life with Indra and everything the blonde teacher had been doing for her. Lexa gave a small tilt of her lips. She truly enjoyed the children. They were adorable, innocent and full of life and excitement. She replied. “It was good. I think I want to work with younger kids. What did you do?” “I went over to Anya’s with Raven. It was disgusting. Raven is under the impression that because they’ve slept with each other, that I want advice in the department.” Costia shared wrinkling her nose. For Lexa, kissing and sex was not something she’d ever thought about. Even thinking about it now she had neutral feelings towards them. She understood from books that they were ways to show romantic affection and they made participants feel good. But it had never occurred to her to want it or think about it. Lexa certainly didn’t want the mental picture that Costia was surely given of Anya and Raven having sex. Lexa agreed. That did sound disgusting. “Gross.” The green eyed teen looked up to watch Clarke through the door window. The blonde looked different today. In a bad way. She was moving from her desk to the whiteboard and shuffling her papers quickly. Not in her usual laid back manner. She looked tired, and never once did her frown leave her face. Not even when Mr Blake had arrived with her morning coffee. They had spoken lowly so Lexa couldn’t hear them.  Lexa knew something was wrong on Monday, everything Clarke had done seemed forced, like it had been work for her to pay attention to what was happening then. Then before she had driven off, she called Lexa, Ms Lexa Woods. Something she had ever called her in the classroom. The teen didn’t know what was wrong. She just knew that Clarke was behaving differently than normal. Lexa turned her attention back to Costia. “Do you think you could come to the Arkadia BMX Club today? I have my first training session.” The teen marvelled at Costia’s physical ability to turn bright red. She knew from reading this was blushing, and she watched Costia do it a lot, but she couldn’t fathom why she blushed. “Of course. But please don’t break your leg like Clarke.” Costia answered. Lexa grinned. “Clarke didn’t break her leg. She sprained it.” Costia locked eyes with her. “Same difference. Just don’t hurt yourself please?” “I’ll try not to.” She promised. Whatever Costia had been about to say was cut off by the bell, Costia went on her way and Lexa waited for Raven before entering Clarke’s class.  “What’s up Commander?” Raven greeted as they took their seats in the back of the class. Lexa frowned as she raised her eyes to watch Clarke while replying to her eccentric friend. “Commander?” The blonde had that wide smile on her face. It was wrong. There was tension rolling off of her. This was very wrong. She began addressing the class. Raven replied with a roll of her eyes that Lexa caught from the corner of her vision, “Yeah. Commander. You’re always so serious and stiff and secretive. You need to learn to let loose girl. I wouldn’t want to see you pissed off at anything.”  Huh, when Raven put it that way, perhaps the nickname isn’t so bad. Lexa felt herself smirk. She liked it. She turned to look at Raven. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing.” Her friend’s eyes widened before she let out a hiss. “Lexa, you’re not supposed to like that!” Lexa didn’t know why, or how. But she found herself laughing at Raven’s response. But something about Raven’s indignation at her liking her reasoning was really funny. “Ms Lexa Woods, and Ms Raven Reyes. While it’s true that The Diary of Anne Frank is really interesting and is definitely a topic for discussion, can we try and hold back your enthusiasm. Unless you both would like to share your ideas with us.” Clarke called out interrupting them. Her tone was light, and her smile was in place. But both were forced. Lexa wondered briefly if she was the only one who noticed something was off with Clarke. Lexa flushed. She guessed that this is what is called embarrassment. If Lexa were embarrassed though, Raven was anything but, as she quipped to the blonde teacher. “Nope! We’re good thanks.” Causing the class to giggle at her and Clarke to roll her eyes. Raven and Lexa both decided they better pay attention for the rest of the class duration. When lunchtime arrived, the T.T.T and herself sat down. The usual sequence of events occurred. Costia gave her shy smile as a greeting, Raven made a sexual quip to Anya who punched her arm and then turned to Lexa to shove her chocolate milk at her with her normal grunt of “Here.” What was not so usual was that Lexa gave Costia a natural small smile of her own. A wink at Raven and she pulled out a strawberry milk from her bag that she had pulled out of the freezer this morning, so it was still cold with some ice chips, and thrust it towards Anya with a “Here, I don’t like it.” of her own to the girl. These acts had Anya’s scowl morph into a smirk, and she quipped, “I like you even more now.” These words from Anya weren't the same as Raven bantering with her. They meant more to Lexa than anything Raven did or said to her, but they also meant less to her than the way Costia treated her. Was it wrong that in order from most to least she liked, Costia, Anya and Raven? She supposed there was nothing wrong with the way she felt. The way she felt, ‘just is’. But still, the factual conclusion itself seemed wrong. “Hey, Commander, what are you doing after school?” Raven asked. Both of Lexa’s brows rose. Usually it was Costia who asked questions like this. “Volunteering. Then I got some training.” “Training? What for?” Anya asked. Lexa still wasn’t very comfortable talking about herself. But she supposed that the only way to get over her discomfort was to get used to doing it. She answered, “I’m learning how to do BMX racing. I volunteer at the track. Wednesday nights are training nights.” “Oh, like on a motorbike?” Raven asked, suddenly interested. The green eyed brunette shook her head. “No that’s, motocross racing. We ride on something similar to street bikes.” Raven shook her head, “Too bad, I was going to see if you wanted to hang out.” “What’s with Commander?” Came Costia’s question. Lexa smirked and let Raven explain the name. When Clarke and her arrived at the track, the blonde's demeanor was the same. Lexa could see she was trying to be cheerful, and nonchalant. But the teen knew better. Maybe only she could tell because she spent more time around Clarke.  Clarke took her around the track and pointed out some dips. The blonde showed her how to fill them in with some dirt and how to compact the dirt afterwards. Then Lexa helped watering down the track to prepare for training.  When she went to get her bike, she saw Costia and went over to her. “You’re here.” She said. Lexa didn’t know why, but she was glad her friend was here. “This place is a dustball.” Costia replied wrinkling her nose. The brunette laughed, “It’s not that bad.” “Ms Costia Green. How are you doing this fine evening?” Clarke interrupted. “Good. Lexa asked me to come.” Costia said shyly. The blondes lips curled as if she knew something Lexa didn’t. “Did she now? Well, sit back and enjoy.” Looking over at Lexa, Clarke continued. “Do a lap or two. Use your upper body to control the bike. Pull the handle bars up when you go over each jump, and allow gravity to do it’s work as you go down so you don’t overcompensate. When you’re comfortable going over the jumps. Take a break. Then do three consecutive circuits, don’t stop. This will help boost your stamina.” Lexa put on her helmet, and her gloves, and headed over to the starting gate. She looked over to Costia and Clarke whose eyes were on her. Lexa gave a small wave by lifting her fingers. She saw the blonde lean over and say something to Costia who laughed, and they both gave proper waves of their own. She pushed off and went down the starting gate, keeping Clarke’s words in mind. Pull her handlebars going up and let gravity do it’s work going down. She was a lot less clumsy this time around. She did a second circuit. She could feel her movements already becoming smoother. She wondered if she was ready to try and do a circuit as fast as she could. She started her third circuit, pedaling hard and heavy. When she came across her first jump, she went up smoothly, but she instinctively pushed her bike down and leaned forward to go down the jump. She lost her balance and fell crashing into the ground, her air expelling with the force of it. She wasn’t hurt. Just surprised. Now she understood what Clarke meant by letting gravity do its work and overcompensating. She would learn from this. She got up and got on the bike again finishing the circuit slightly slower than she had started it. She went up the starting gate again, and sat there catching her breath when Clarke pulled up beside her on her own bike. “Together?” The blonde asked. Lexa nodded. “When you’re ready Green-Eyes.” Clarke said. Lexa pushed off and Clarke followed her down and then sped up so she was slightly ahead of her by a few meters. The teen guessed this was so she could see how the blonde moved over the jumps, since the blonde didn’t jump or scooter any of them either. The brunette was a little frustrated that at the end of the circuit when Clarke removed her helmet she appeared fine. Lexa on the other hand was out of breath and her legs were sore. It occurred to her. Ms Blake wasn’t here. Last time Ms Blake had been flashy and noticeable as she flew over the track with her fancy tricks. Lexa also knew it was useless to ask the blonde. If Lexa didn’t need to know then Clarke wouldn’t tell her. “Hey, Green-Eyes.” Clarke said, getting her attention. “You did well, you’re a real natural. I’d give it 6 months max and you’ll be racing against Arkadia’s best.” The blonde praised. “You were great!” Costia also chimed in. Lexa felt her heart thump at their praises.  When had Clarke’s and the T.T.T’s approval become meaningful to her?  “It’s time to head home.” The blonde informed, and Lexa nodded in acknowledgement. Clarke turned and bit her lip looking at Costia. “Do you have a way home?” Costia nodded. “I was going to take the bus.” The blonde frowned. “Look i’m not supposed to do this, but i’ll drop you home. I’d rather make sure you got home safely than catch a bus this late.” With that being said, Clarke loaded up the bikes. If the blonde had any thoughts about Lexa sitting in the back with Costia, she said nothing of it. Nor was there any indication of her being aware when Costia gave Lexa one of her small hugs. Clarke didn’t really say anything at all except to bid them both goodnight as she dropped each of them off. Lexa was currently trying out a quiche recipe that Clarke had emailed her when Indra had gotten out of the shower after coming home from work. Lexa in the kitchen was becoming a common sight for the woman. “Good morning Lexa.” “Good morning.” The teen replied as she whisked the eggs, milk and self raising flour. “Quiche?” “Please. You’re becoming quite the cook.” her carer responded. “Anything I can help you with?” The teen shook her head. It wasn’t that there was nothing the older woman couldn’t do to help. It was more cooking food for Indra to save her from having to cook before she went to work was one of the few things Lexa could do for Indra. One of the few things that she felt was actually helpful to the woman. Indra took her place at the table, and Lexa could hear the warmth in her voice when she acknowledged, “And even a cup of tea waiting for me. Thank you.” Lexa smiled but didn’t reply. She appreciated the way Indra treated her as an equal, there didn’t seem to be an invisible line of what the teen could or could not cross with her, that wasn’t already standard for every interaction. Courtesy, respect, consideration. It was something that really frustrated her about Clarke. The blonde was always friendly, and supportive but there was a barrier between them that Clarke wouldn’t remove. Clarke had made it clear without specifically saying it. They were not equals.  It seemed to Lexa as if the woman was putting down more barriers lately. She never shooed the teen away, and she still always smiled and called her ‘Ms Lexa Woods’ and ‘Green-Eyes’ at school. But there was a tension in the way Clarke interacted with her. The blonde didn’t talk to her as if she had all the time in the world like she used to. She didn’t randomly stop to tease her if they bumped into each other out of the class, and when they did speak it seemed shorter than normal. Not that Lexa was skilled in the art of conversation so she guessed she had to take some of the blame there too. The teen threw her mixture into the ceramic pan that she had already previously greased and placed it in the oven before setting the timer on the stove for 40 minutes. She felt Indra’s eyes on her as she took her own place at the table. Lexa shifted her weight. Indra won’t press her, but nothing gets past her. “The quiche will be done when the timer goes off.” She said. Indra nodded, “Few things beat a good quiche.” “Do you mind if I visit my friends after school?” Lexa asked. She already knew the answer, but still it was polite to inform her. “They sound like they’re becoming good friends.” Her carer prompted. The teen nodded. They were her only friends. But Lexa didn’t think she needed any more friends if she had Costia, Anya and Raven. So the teen was more than ok with that conclusion. Why did she need any more friends when Raven was the humour and life of the group? When Costia was the maternal responsible one? And Anya was the more quiet but loyal and rock steady personality?  Were there anymore qualities from people that Lexa needed in her social group? She didn’t believe so. “They are.” She admitted. Indra gave Lexa her closed lipped smile, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a $20 note for her. The teen gazed at it but didn’t move to take it. “Go on,” Indra urged her. “I’m sure you and your friends don’t sit at the library all day.” Lexa took it with one hand, and with her other she clasped the woman’s outstretched arm gave it a gentle squeeze in silent appreciation. Indra was not part of her social group. Indra was her family. They took care of each other in their own ways. With a nod of her head goodbye, Lexa went into her room and walked her BMX bike out the door. She often found herself doing wheelies and finding some things to jump to and from school. She loved it. It was similar to reading a book. She was lost in the action that the world around her faded into the background. Unlike reading a book, when she got off her bike she was filled with pride and confidence. She walked down the halls passing Anya and Raven who were kissing. Lexa still found it difficult to believe that Sassy Brunette and Grumpy Blonde were together. But they seemed happy and while Anya teasingly punched Raven often, there were never any indications of any sort of dysfunction between them. Lexa gave a small smirk as she passed them and went to her usual spot, finding Costia there waiting for her. “Morning Costia.” “Hi. You look good this morning. That shirt suits you.” Costia replied accompanied by her blush. The shirt suits her? It’s just a shirt. She humoured her friend anyway, “Thank you.” “What was on the menu for Indra?” Her friend asked. “New recipe. Quiche. Indra said we could hang out after school if you want?” Lexa asked. Lexa could only watch in wonder just how many shades of red Costia was managing, and a flash of blonde appeared with a “Good morning!” and a wink, and just as quickly Clarke was in her classroom with the door shut. Lexa stared at her through the door window briefly then turned her attention back to Costia. “She’s weird. Did you want to do something after school?” “I’d like that.” The other teen answered quietly.  The green eyed teen didn’t really know what to say to continue the conversation. She didn’t feel awkward. She was content that Costia had agreed. She knew that there should be some sort of follow up conversation but she wasn’t good at making small talk. She settled for giving her friend a small smile.  Not that the contentment lasted long when Raven boisterously announced her arrival to the duo with a “Today is going to be a good day! Don’t you agree?!” filing her arms over them both. Lexa swallowed thickly. She knew Sassy Brunette meant no harm. But she wasn’t sure she liked this. It didn’t matter though as Costia laughed stepping in front of Lexa so that Raven was forced to let go. “Every day you’re kissing Anya is a good day for you.” The girl teased. Raven winked, “You know it! One day you both will get kissed too!” Costia started to flush red again. “Go away.” Lexa said nothing, if Raven’s attention was on Costia then maybe she wouldn’t notice Lexa’s face had heated up too. Sometimes the best way to go unnoticed was to not engage, and Raven was a very engaging person. Well, perhaps one can be both engaging and observant. Because after the bell had rung, Raven lagged behind after Costia left to find Anya. Raven had cheekily whispered “Perhaps she’s not the only one who wants to be kissed.” Raven was wrong. Lexa didn’t care if she wasn’t kissed. It was more she was embarrassed by the implication she could or would get that type of attention. It had nothing to do with want.  Lexa took a leaf out of Anya’s book and gave her a soft punch in the arm and a roll of her eyes, and headed towards the gym.  There was an assembly today. They didn’t happen often, once every couple of weeks. It didn’t matter to Lexa. She was glad. Anything was more entertaining than Mr Blake’s class. She found the T.T.T and situated herself with them. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. Mr Kane greeted everyone, and relayed the school sports teams scores. There were some recognition and achievement awards handed out. What wasn’t ordinary though was when Mr Kane cleared his throat and announced at the end of the semester they would be saying goodbye to a couple of staff members. As Mr Kane named each of the staff, the person in question stood and waved to the students. What Lexa did not expect was Clarke Griffin’s name to be called. So many things in the past week or so about Clarke Griffin’s behaviour made sense to her now. Lexa stared as Clarke stood up. The blonde’s serious expression seemed so foreign in the school setting, her blue eyes weren’t twinkling as she looked over everyone, and she gave her own wave to everyone. It was only when those blue eyes found hers and didn’t move on, that Lexa gritted her teeth. Why didn’t Clarke say anything? Yes, Lexa wasn’t her equal. But she needed her. Clarke helped her and taught her and was there for her.  Lexa liked Clarke’s teasing, and the sparkle in her eyes as she did it. Lexa liked the blondes playful winks and jokes in the classroom. Lexa had felt privileged to see a side of her outside of the classroom with her more reserved smiles and quieter conversations and seeing the blondes brows furrow in concentration when she was focusing on finding something challenging. Most of all Lexa liked how the blonde made her a better person just by being her. It was like going back in time when Indra had said that Lexa couldn’t race and had remained calm despite the teen’s emotional chaos. That desperation and anger threatened to overtake her. Lexa turned around and left the gym doors. She needed to get out of here. She needed one thing right now.  She reached her bike and rode as fast as her legs would take her to the construction site. She didn’t know how long she punished the terrain or her bike. But she had never before been able to jump as far or as high as she was. She had never had this kind of stamina before.  Lexa had never felt this sense of loss or anger before. She had been indifferent before, desensitized to those feelings because loss and change had been normal for her. There had been no attachment. “Woods.” A voice called. Ms Blake. Lexa ignored her. “Woods!” This time it was louder, firmer. The teen stopped. She was out of breath anyway. The sound of something hitting the dirt caused her to look around. It was Clarke’s helmet, and in it were her gloves. Lexa looked up, behind Ms Blake was Clarke’s SUV but there was no sign of the blonde. Lexa gently kicked the helmet away from her. Ms Blake walked steadily to her and bent down slightly and firmly grabbed the bottom of Lexa’s bike seat and straightened up so the back wheel was no longer on the ground. “You’re not riding here, on this bike without a helmet, Woods.” The older brunette asserted. “You knew.” Was all Lexa said. Ms Blake nodded, “Of course I did. There’s nothing we hide from each other.” The teen swallowed. “I knew I wasn’t her friend. But she was my friend.” The teacher lowered the backend of the bike. “Let’s go somewhere to talk yeah?” Lexa shrugged. Whatever fight she had felt when she left the gym was gone. She followed like a lemming to the car. Ms Blake took them to a cafe and had ordered them both tropical juice. “She cares about you, more than she should.” The older brunette said finally. Lexa huffed. “She didn’t say anything.” The rebuke she got hit hard and fast. “She didn’t have to. Clarke’s had this planned since highschool. She’s your teacher and she was already stretching the limits of those boundaries Lexa. There were reasons she never talked about herself to you. You were her student.” She was finding breathing steadily difficult. She couldn’t unclench her fists. Lexa gritted her teeth so hard her jaw began to ache. Limits of what boundaries? Do boundaries exist when people care about each other? Rely on each other? Lexa supposed her indignation showed because Ms Blake shared. “This has been upsetting her too. I’ve never seen her treat another student the way she’s treated you. She does care about you, as a friend. But no matter how she feels, you’re still her student and she’s never forgotten that fact or that line.” The knowledge that Clarke cared about her more than a student did comfort her. But it did little to soothe the ache that that knowing Clarke was leaving caused. “She’s going back to do two more years of college, she’s going to come back when she’s done.” Ms Blake continued. The teen’s head shot up, “She’ll be back?” Ms Blake nodded, “Two years.” Lexa stared at the texture of her juice through the glass as she tried to sort out what was going on in her head. She knew she was angry. She didn’t know if she felt hurt and betrayed. Wasn’t betrayal a byproduct of being hurt? Did she need Clarke now? Maybe she needed her at the start. Did she need her now though? She had Indra, Costia, Anya and even Raven right? Even those four people were more in her life than she had ever had before coming into Indra’s care. Lexa did not need Clarke Griffin, and in two years when the blonde returned Lexa would prove that to her. Resolutely, Lexa looked Ms Blake in the eyes and calmly she said “Ok.” Clarke grunted as she slammed the shovel flat against the dirt to compact it. Before retrieving another shovel full of dirt from the wheelbarrow and filling in another dip and slamming the shovel down again. She had been doing odds and ends maintenance around the track all day. It was obvious that Lexa didn't want to speak with her. When she left the gym the day before she had discreetly given O her car keys. Everything else didn’t need to be said. O and the teen never returned to school. Apparently her friend had called Kane and cited a personal emergency. Clarke pushed the wheelbarrow and emptied the excess dirt on the the pile and went over to the utility shed and retrieved a packet of small zip ties, a hole punch and a pair of pliers and started reattaching loose parts of the privacy tarp to the wire grill of the border fence. Clarke had messaged Lexa to confirm her normal pick up, one hour before the races started this afternoon. The teen hadn’t responded. The blonde didn’t chase her up. Clarke could care less about Lexa working off the bike parts and time. The parts were collecting dust in her shed at home, and while Lexa had difficulties with feelings and socialising, she wasn’t a baby or a child. The choice was hers to come or not come. If Lexa didn’t confirm then the blonde simply won’t show up uninvited. “I thought you’d be here Princess.” Bellamy’s voice called out. Clarke looked up, his sister was beside him as they walked steadily towards her. The blonde smiled at them. “Hello Blake and Mini Blake.” “Piss off.” Huffed O. Bellamy spotted Clarke’s water bottle on the ground and bent over to pick it up unscrewing the lid and then proceeded to pour it all over the blonde. “Sit down Clarke, your face is tomato red and if you weren’t so dirty I’d think you’d have showered in your own sweat.” He said. Clarke sat down on the dirt. Her legs slightly bent out in front of her and asked, “What time is it?” “5:30. It’s a good thing I’m not racing tonight.” O said. It’s about time to start watering the track then, and O isn’t going to be racing? She bailed out on training, now she’s bailing on tonight too? The blonde arched a brow. Her friend grinned, “I have a date with Lincoln.” O swung her duffle bag so it landed just in front of Clarke.  “I’m losing my only BMX competition to a man?” The blonde teased as she opened the bag. There were a pair of clean protective riding clothes, and a sandwich and an orange. O smiled. There was a sparkle in her usually serious eyes. “Mhmm” While it was true her and O dominated the races, and more often than not her brunette friend beat her. Clarke was happy for O, and wished her friend the best.  Bellamy on the other hand… “O’s still a virgin!” O face palmed. Clarke couldn’t blame her. Bellamy was like a child when it came to his sister dating. If he says O’s a virgin to himself so many times, perhaps one day he’ll actually believe it and remain ignorant? “What about Princess here? Is she a virgin?” O quipped. Now Clarke sighed exasperated, Bellamy didn’t even bother trying to hide how flustered he felt. “Well, yes? Of course? Right?” The blonde busied herself zipping up the duffle bag. “Of course Bell, I’m still a virgin.” She deadpanned. The sound of someone clearing their throat caught their attention. It was Lexa with her bike, and behind her stood the T.T.T. “Do you want me to begin watering the track?” Clarke plastered on a smile for the sake of Costia, Raven and Anya. “Good evening girls.” and she looked at Lexa. There was something eerie in the way she spoke and held herself. There was a coolness in her question and a kind of passiveness in the way that she held herself.  It wasn’t the same type of awkward, uncaring passiveness that Clarke had seen when the teen first walked into her classroom. No, this sort of passiveness reminded the blonde of an invisible armour. The teen radiated a vibe of being battle ready. She stood taller and straighter, with an alertness to her posture. There was a hardness and determination in her eyes. “Are you going to be racing tonight?” Clarke asked her. Lexa’s answer was decisive, there was no hesitation. “Yes.” The blonde nodded, Lexa wasn’t ready to race yet. But that was something she had to see for herself. Clarke grinned and turned to the T.T.T and winked, “So you’ll be cheering for me right?” Anya snorted, “I’m not cheering for anyone.” and she elbowed Raven. “She dragged me here.” Raven smirked, “I just want to see you old farts fall over.” “I’m only here because Lexa asked us.” Was Costia’s answer. O cut in, “Well I’m not racing tonight. I was just dropping some things off for Clarke. If Lexa’s racing she’ll be racing against Clarke. All the girls race against each other because the female base isn’t that big in this club.” Clarke felt Lexa’s piercing eyes on her. She didn’t acknowledge it. Winking again at the T.T.T she promised, “If this old fart falls over, dinner on me when races are all over tonight.” “You’re on!” Raven replied eagerly.  Lexa remained silent. “I gotta go. Later losers!” O bid them sauntering off. Bellamy gave a sheepish grin and gave the blonde a warm hug. “Take care Princess, and everyone else.” Clarke turned to Lexa, there definitely was a steeliness in her gaze. It stung, but Clarke ignored it. There wasn’t much she could do about it, nor could she ask Lexa about it in front of her friends.  Clarke said “Since you were late you don’t have time to both prep the track and warm up. So your best bet is to warm up before the racing begins. Do you have everything?” The teen nodded curtly and pushed her bike towards the entrance. Anya followed silently while Costia and Raven said “Goodluck” before hurrying to catch up with her friend. Lexa has a chip on her shoulder tonight. Clarke sighed and shook her head, picking up the duffle bag O brought to her. The track was a good place for letting off steam. She headed towards the bathrooms to shower and get changed. The blonde may act nonchalant and oblivious sometimes, but there was no mistaking the teens simmering anger or the reason behind it. She was mad at Clarke, and the blonde was empathetic to that. However, empathetic Clarke was, or cool Lexa was; it did little to change the truth that their relationship could not be personal on any level. Lexa was in a position of vulnerability and Clarke was in a position of power. Clarke was doing the right thing. When the blonde exited the showers and went to do a warm up lap, she went slowly. She’d been working all day, and she didn’t have the anger to fuel her as Lexa did. The teen rode over the track quickly. She was fast but she had little technique. Her anger made her reckless. It made for bumpy riding as opposed to working with the track to ride smoothly. It also meant that the teen would be tired when it came time for racing. Lexa was already better than the other female racers. She had natural talent. But she didn’t have Clarke’s experience or training that gave the blonde the technique, speed and awareness advantage. One day Lexa will. But she was not Clarke’s competition yet. Clarke wasn’t breathing hard when she sat next to the T.T.T waiting for the races to begin. Lexa still hadn’t left the track circuit. It was almost as if she were trying to prove a point even before the races began. Apparently Costia thought the same thing because the girl asked, “Shouldn’t she take a break?” Clarke hummed in agreement, “She’ll be feeling sore tomorrow. She’s punishing her legs tonight.” The blonde walked over to the finishing line and waited for the brunette teen to finish her circuit. When Lexa slowed down to make her way up to the starting gate again. Clarke reached out quickly and grabbed the bottom of her bike stopping her. “I know you’re angry Green-Eyes. But punishing yourself isn’t productive. Rest until the races begin, and take your anger out on me then ok?” She said firmly. Lexa got off her bike. Her green eyes were icy as she growled. “You don’t know what I’m feeling.” “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Whatever it is you’re feeling you should still take it out on me when we race. Not on yourself where the only person you harm is yourself.” Clarke replied. The brunette huffed, and walked her bike to the T.T.T. taking her helmet off and sitting down on the bleacher. The blonde headed that way too, only to retrieve her own bike and relocate. So she didn’t impose her obviously unwanted presence on the teen. The turnout at the track was low tonight. Clarke guessed because there was a free family movie screening down by the beach that the city council was hosting. Regardless of the reason, it meant that the races were best out of five.  When they were called to the starting gate, the mini ramp gate was up as it should be. Lexa was positioned next to Clarke but hadn’t gotten on her bike yet.  The blonde tried to offer practical comfort. “Remember, it’s easier on this ramp than what we were practicing on flat ground. Trust your body, it knows what it’s doing.” Lexa gave no acknowledgement that she heard her. But got on her bike, and sure enough she stood in the starting position on her pedals and didn’t wobble at all. Clarke did the same, standing on her pedals and watching the countdown begin. The mini gate slammed down and their bikes rolled forward. Lexa sped off, Clarke kept an even pace with her. The brunette thought she wanted to prove something to Clarke. Lexa was wrong. Lexa needed to prove something to herself and Clarke will help with that. Clarke kept herself next to the brunette for most of the race, up until they reached the very last berm. Clarke went high up on the berm while Lexa took the inside causing her to take the lead. The blonde didn’t bother to catch up, nor did she want to. She cruised across the last set of Triples and Lexa crossed the finish line half a bike length a head of her. Lexa rode her bike straight to the T.T.T and the girls were obviously offering their congratulations to her. Clarke pushed her bike past them. “Hey, good job Green-Eyes!”  Lexa ignored her. When Clarke sat down watching the teen, Lexa took off her helmet and she smirked at the blonde. Clarke smiled back in acknowledgement before taking a sip out of her water bottle. When they were called for their second race. Clarke said nothing as Lexa got into position. She kept her eyes on the countdown. She repeated the last race as the mini gate slammed down signalling the start. She did small jumps over the Table Top and just rolled over the Doubles, Triples and the Step Ups and Step Downs, but she alternated between jumping and scootering the Rhythms. All the while she never passed Lexa, and again Clarke allowed herself to appear as if she made a bad judgement call that allowed Lexa to get a head of her winning the race by a small margin. This time as Clarke sat down in her spot, the expression in Lexa’s eyes was less certain, despite the same smirk that painted her lips. Clarke gave her a thumbs up. The third time at the starting gate, The brunette growled at her. “Stop holding back. You’re not even puffed out.” Clarke didn’t acknowledge her. Perhaps she wasn’t helping Lexa prove anything by letting her win? Perhaps what Lexa needed was a goal. They both got into starting positions. The countdown started and the mini gate slammed down. This time Clarke shot ahead quickly and easily. She jumped over the Doubles, and then rolled over the first hump jumping from the second hump and landing on the third for the Triple. She caught some high air going over the Table Top and rolled over the Step Ups and Step Downs scootering across the Rhythms. Clarke beat Lexa by over half a straight. The glare the teen sent was scathing. The blonde didn’t look away, keeping their eyes locked and her expression neutral. This time Clarke was breathing heavily. On the fourth race, Clarke just decided to have fun. She didn’t push herself like she had the last race. She pretended she wasn’t racing Lexa. The blonde pretended it was only her on the track. She still beat Lexa, but the margin wasn’t as big as the previous race. The teen didn’t bother to look at her all this time. That made it, two wins each. There was one final race to determine best out of five. Clarke did not go to the starting gate. When the last race was finished. If the glare Lexa had sent her was scathing before, then the expression on her face now was down right murderous as she approached the blonde after throwing her helmet to the ground. “You didn’t race.” There was anger there. The blonde kept her gaze even as she looked at the teen and replied with the obvious. “No I didn’t.” “Why not?” Lexa fired quickly. Clarke sighed, “I didn’t feel like it.” “You were supposed to race.” The teen asserted. Clarke looked at the sky. The stars were out, and gently she said “You are not my competition.” Her answer appeared to fuel Lexa even more. “It’s a race, of course i’m your competition.” The blonde returned her gaze to Lexa and gave her a sad smile. “This wasn’t about racing.” She bent over and picked up her duffle bag and began to push her bike towards the car park. “I’ll beat you one day.” Lexa called. Clarke turned around, and with a small smile of pride she replied still as gently as before. “When you do Lexa, you’ll be my ultimate achievement.” Indra’s eyes were on her again. Lexa wondered if her carer paid even more attention to people around her than the teen did herself. The teen had not prepared their evening meal this morning. She was tired, and she couldn’t sleep the night before. She had been dismayed and pissed off at the way the night had gone at the track. So here she was this morning sitting moodily biting into a pear and frowning at her glass of water. “What’s wrong?” The woman asked her. What’s wrong? What isn’t wrong? Her legs were sore. She was tired and Lexa had lost last night. Technically she came first, but that was only because Clarke had forfeited that last race, but if she hadn’t forfeited, Clarke would have won. Then, the blonde had completely dismissed her saying that the night wasn’t about racing and that Lexa was not her competition. But the inflection in the way Clarke had said it almost seemed that she was indifferent to Lexa’s turmoil. It was hard enough trying to figure out her own feelings, but to try and interpret another person's feelings was downright impossible. She didn’t understand anything that Clarke had said except that Clarke knew she was better than her. Her frown must have turned into a glare because Indra asked her again. “Lexa, what’s wrong?” The teen looked at Indra. There was softness in her carers eyes that conflicted with the firmness of her tone. “Clarke’s leaving to go back to college, and then she beat me by a lot on the track.” The woman paused before replying, “You’re upset she was better than you at the races?” “No, yes, sort of-” The teen cut herself off. Indra didn’t reply to Clarke’s leaving. That meant one thing, “-You knew Clarke was leaving.” Indra nodded. “Clarke sent me an email on Friday. Said you were upset by it.” Upset seemed to be an understatement. Lexa clenched her jaw. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Her carer nodded saying nothing further to continue the conversation. Feelings were so difficult to decipher. She was angry and sad at Clarke. So why was there an instinctive knowledge that only Clarke could give her the answers to soothe these feelings? Was it because the blonde was the source of these emotions? “Can you take me to Clarkes?” Lexa asked. Indra looked at something on her phone and contemplated the request before replying, “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Lexa didn’t flinch from the question. She nodded. “I need to talk to her.” “I won’t be able to pick you up.” The woman replied. The teen shrugged, “I still have the $20 you gave me.” Indra stood up, and Lexa followed her to the car. When they entered the car Indra said, “I don’t think this is wise. It’s your choice.” Choice. Another thing she never had before meeting Indra or Clarke. Her previous carers had met her basic needs. They fed her, clothes her. Made sure she showered and went to school. But they were never involved with her; she hadn’t been a part of their family. She had only been a part of their household, and so Lexa had found solace in books and music. Lexa said nothing. She wasn’t sure that this was wise either. There were no words to describe why she needed to do this. Instinct perhaps? Indra drove away and Lexa spotted the Clarke’s front door was propped open. Now that the teen was here she didn’t know what to do. All the other times she had been here, she just walked through the door. All the other times she’d been here Clarke, had greeted her and started the conversation. What was Lexa supposed to do now? The teen had watched other people be involved in confrontations and fights. But she had never been in a situation where she was involved in the drama like this, and now she was like a fish out of water. Her dilemma was solved for her. “Are you looking to come in Green-Eyes or would you rather stand out here in the hot sun all day?” Clarke’s voice rang out. Her words indicated she was teasing. But her tone did not. Lexa decided she hated the task of trying to figure out people’s emotions. Learning their pattern of behaviour was so much more consistent and simple. She went inside. There was 90s music playing lowly in the background. A lot of the pictures were taken off the walls and there was less clutter around. There was also the sound of running water since Clarke was doing dishes. Lexa stepped towards one of the photos still up. A picture of an older man with his arms around an older dark blonde woman's waist. They were both smiling into the camera. It was easy to see these were Clarke’s parents. She had her fathers blue eyes and her mother’s thin lips. The next photo showed a younger Clarke with much longer hair, slightly bent forward with Ms Blake on her back, her arms clasped around the blondes shoulders for support. They were both laughing. In another photo there was a young man as dark as Indra. He and Clarke seemed to be having a chess match. He was in the process of moving his queen when the picture had been taken. Lexa turned and looked around the room more. There were boxes that had been packed. Her anger flared again. The blonde had dismissed her in more ways than one. She was leaving her and then she dismissed her verbally at the track. Lexa noted there was no sound of running water and looked up. She was met with Clarke’s eyes already watching her. A cup of coffee in her hand. The teen didn’t know what her expression showed. To her it showed nothing. Lexa took the initiative. “Why didn’t you do the last race?” The blonde arched a brow, and took a sip of her coffee before asking. “You had Indra come and drop you off to ask me why I didn’t compete in the last race?” Was Clarke trying to make fun of her? The question made her feel stupid. She didn’t know why she was here. She just knew she needed to be here. Lexa glared, she wanted an answer. “Well?” Clarke stood up, and got a glass, pouring some water. This meant her back was to the teen. “I told you last night. You are not my competition and that last night was not about racing.” “Then what was it about Clarke?!” The teen was lost and she clenched her fists. She didn’t know what the blonde was talking about. Clarke placed the glass of water on the table and indicated with her hand that it was for her. “Last night was about punishing yourself and punishing me. But there was nothing to punish Lexa.” The teen shook her head in denial. The races had been about proving to Clarke that she didn’t need her. That she could do this without Clarke’s support, she had asked the T.T.T to come with her to remind her of that. Last night was about her. Not about punishing Clarke. The woman had shown her what pride was, what laughter was and not just the definition of them. Clarke had introduced those experiences to her. Now Clarke was introducing new experiences. Anger and sadness , and just like those positive feelings at the beginning she didn’t know how to navigate these negative feelings. And all Clarke wanted to do was talk in circles. “I hate this.” Lexa said simply.  Clarke didn’t reply. The teen had to ask, “Do you regret this?” “No, I’m glad I did this.” The blonde answered. Her answer made Lexa see red. “Then why don’t you care?!” Clarke stood up and picked up the glass of water and held it out to her and asked the teen the same question. “Do you regret this Lexa?” Lexa took the glass of water and drank from it as she thought about it. Was everything worth what she was being overwhelmed with right now? It was hard to get through. But not impossible right? She had lived indifferently before. Uncaring and unable to acknowledge other people and unable to care or to acknowledge herself. Lexa didn’t want to go back to that state of mind even if this was hard for her. Even now she felt alive . “No. I don’t regret this. But why don’t you care?” She asked the thing that she realised bothered her the most. “Did you notice the stars last night?” Clarke asked instead of answering. The stars? Why would Lexa be looking at the stars when they were in the middle of a competition? She shook her head. “They were shining brighter than usual.” The blonde said simply. Lexa clenched her jaw. Clarke was talking in circles. Why do the stars matter right now?! Why couldn’t she just answer a question straightforwardly like everyone else? Clarke chuckled, there was shine in her eyes that Lexa thought might have been fondness if it weren’t for the circumstances. “You’ve come a long way Green-Eyes and you got further to go. But it’s time to get you home. I have to finish packing.” Why didn’t the blonde ever make sense? The reminder that Clarke was leaving set a heavy feeling in her gut. “I won’t see you again?” Clarke confirmed. “No. There’s lots I have to do.” Acceptance. Lexa had no choice but to accept how things were. She simply didn’t have a choice with Clarke. They got into the SUV and she repeated, “I hate this.” The blonde made a sound of acknowledgement but said nothing. When the SUV pulled into the gravel driveway, Clarke said. “You’re so bright Lexa. Keep shining.” This time it was Lexa who didn’t reply as she got out. She closed the door and glared at the woman. Clarke gave her a small smile. It was strange in the way the smile didn’t reach her watery eyes but still appeared genuine and wasn’t forced. Lexa continued to glare. The blonde looked in her rearview mirror and pulled out, driving away. There was a sense of self satisfaction that she hadn’t acknowledged Clarke’s goodbye. Lexa smiled grimly to herself. She has friends now. Even without Clarke she had a direction to head in. The teen went inside and found Indra still awake. She was sweeping the floor. Glancing at the clock Lexa was surprised to see she hadn’t even been gone for an hour and a half. The teen went and retrieved the mop and mop bucket. Filling up the latter and mopping behind Indra. “Did you sort it out?” The older woman asked. Had she? She didn’t think so. She didn’t feel any type of peace of mind, or as if there had been any resolution. Whatever feeling of satisfaction she felt when Clarke drove away had now vanished and in it’s place was a tightness and heaviness in her body. She really just didn’t want to think about Clarke at all.  Lexa didn’t reply, which she guessed was a reply all on it’s own. Her legs were sore. She ignored them and rinsed the mop out before returning to her task. “I still want to race.” She informed her carer. Indra hummed. “I wouldn’t expect otherwise.” “Indra?” She called hesitantly. “Yes Lexa?” the woman answered. Lexa halted her mopping to think about what it was she wanted to say. Truthfully she didn’t know what she wanted to say. She needed something but she didn’t know what. Indra stopped sweeping and leaned the broom against the wall. The mop fell out of the teens hands and she just stared at a spot on the floor.  She felt Indra’s arms wrap around her and a strange noise left her throat and tears ran down her face. “Crying in times like these is normal Lexa.” Indra said softly, and began to sway their bodies. Lexa wrapped her arms around Indra and held on to her firmly. Crying. She was crying and Indra was there to catch her. She cried harder. Lexa walked awkwardly beside Costia as they entered the track club. This would be the first time she’s come here without Clarke. Even though she was no longer bound to volunteer. She had no desire to stop. Mainly because of all the youngsters. She had also asked if Anya and Raven wanted to tag along with her.  Lexa had been pathetically proud of herself when she was able to recognise Raven’s answer as a sexual innuendo “Nope. I’d work Anya a hundred times over before I worked with rugrats.”  Anya’s response had been to scowl at her and gave a simple “I don’t think so.”  Lexa had looked at Costia, and tilted her lips. Sweet, reserved Costia had nodded, and now here they were. Costia took their things to the bleachers and sat down facing towards the kids. Lexa saw the group of children already waiting for her, and well some not waiting for her as they were already wobbling on their bikes lacking the inclination to wait. “Hi guys,” Lexa called, grabbing most of their attention.  A small sandy haired boy bolted towards her excitedly. The impact of the forceful hug he gave her caused her to grunt slightly. But she greeted him with a smile. “How are you, young fella?” The boy frowned. “I’m not young fella. I’m Aden.” The teen ruffled his hair, “You’re young fella Aden to me.” The addition of his real name adding to the pet name seemed to satisfy him. That, or he had no attention span because he reached to grab her arm tugging as hard as he could so that she would follow him, “Look Lexa, I can ride for five whole minutes!” “Really? Show me!” She urged. It turned out that ‘five whole minutes’ was closer to fifty whole seconds. Lexa didn’t believe telling someone so young the difference would be productive. Do kids this young even have a real sense of time? “Good job, you’re a lot better than last week. Have you been practicing?” She asked him. The wide innocent smile accompanied by a rigorous nod was her answer. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a young girl fall over and those big brown watery eyes reminded her of a puppy dog. Watery eyes. Right, that meant crying was about to start, and Lexa found from her previous times here that she wanted to do anything to stop a child from shedding their tears. Lexa scooped up the girl and she swayed her in a gentle manner that Indra had for herself. She checked her over for any injuries under the guise of rubbing her soothingly. When the girl had calmed down to where she was only hiccuping Lexa lowered her to the ground. “Hey it’s ok. It just takes practice. We don’t learn unless we fall over. Let’s try again and I’ll hold your bike to help you ok?” The child was reluctant. She stared at the bike as if it were going to move all on it’s own. Lexa knelt down beside her. “I’ll be here with you. I promise.” The girl nodded and stood her bike up and Lexa shuffled closer to hold it so she could get on. She asked, “You ready?” The young child nodded and began pedaling. Lexa jogged awkwardly while bent over to match the girls speed. “I’m going to let go now. You can do it!” The ability children have to hyperfocus on things of their choosing and block out the rest of the world is both wonderful and absolutely terrifying. As the girl concentrated so much on watching herself pedalling so she didn’t lose momentum and fall, she had absolutely no idea where she was going and was heading directly into the very fence that Lexa had seen Clarke repair less than a week before. The teen sprinted as fast as she could to catch up and made it just in time to grip the bike seat and handlebars before the child hurt herself. She kneeled down as the girl looked at her with wide eyes. Lexa winked at her. “See? You didn’t fall over this time. But next time watch where you’re going huh?” Lexa pushed the child’s bike and they went back to the group. Excluding Aden and the young girl she just helped, the others seemed to be doing well. It was amusing to observe most of the group seemed to have forgotten that they can stop with brakes and used their shoes instead. The teen wondered how often their parents needed to replace their shoes.  “You’re wonderful with them.” Costia’s voice broke through, causing her to jump slightly. The green eyed teen said nothing. She loved being here with these children, it was almost magical to see the progress they made on something as small as learning to ride a bike. She smiled as her eyes fell on Aden who had managed to stop his bike, creating a dust cloud, and loudly proclaiming “Ten whole minutes!” Lexa was pretty sure that it was two minutes. She was also being pretty generous in that assessment. She flashed him a quick smile and a thumbs up anyway. She had no desire to ruin his good mood over a moot point technicality. When all the parents picked up their dusty rugrats, Costia smiled shyly at her and asked, “Would Indra care if you came over for dinner? If you want that is?” Lexa put her water bottle she had just finished drinking from in her bag, and replied. “No. She likes you.” Her friend laughed, “She likes me. Do you like me?” Lexa looked at Costia. If she didn’t like her then she wouldn’t waste her time with her. She stated the obvious. “Of course.” Costia gave her one of her small hugs, her tone was gentle as she said. “Lexa, you are so clueless.” Clueless? What did she miss? She guessed it didn’t matter. If it were important Costia would tell her right? “I should probably shower before we go. Your mum probably won’t appreciate all this dirt.” Lexa suggested. “I’m starving. You can have a shower at my place if you’re that worried.” Costia said. Lexa didn’t oppose her. It was rare that Costia gave input to decisions in their group. It turned out that it was the bus driver who held no appreciation for Lexa’s unkemptness as he glared at them and shook his head. When they arrived at her friends house Costia’s mum welcomed her with open arms with an enthusiasm that left Lexa feeling uncomfortable. “Sorry about her. She’s excited I have a friend whose name isn’t Raven or Anya.” Costia said. She was blushing again. Lexa went into the kitchen and washed her hands. She didn’t need to ask to do that right? She replied to her friend, “I think any parent would be happy to meet any non-Raven's and non-Anya’s.”  Costia giggled. “You’re funny.” Lexa had been half serious and half joking. Does that classify her last statement as a joke? She guessed it didn’t matter. Costia found it amusing, and there was no harm in it.  She was hyper conscious of the fact her clothes were covered in dust when they sat down at the table for dinner. It was lasagne. She also felt out of place, she had never eaten lasagne before. She picked up her fork and knife watching Costia and her mother cut into their serving and how they ate it and then mimicked their actions herself. “Costia said you’re the adult of your group. You build bikes and volunteer coaching kids to ride their bikes.” The woman said. Lexa chewed her food slowly to delay in having to respond. The statement made her think of Clarke. Lexa didn’t want to think about Clarke. But she couldn’t not acknowledge Clarke’s influence. She swallowed her food. “My English teacher helped me. Well old English teacher.” “Always good to be a productive member of society. It’s also very rewarding for yourself too.” Costia’s mum said nodding her head as if the action placed more validation on her statement. “Mum, stop.” Costia said, a light blush painting her face again. “What? It’s good to see a young person like yourself getting out there and caring about their community.” The woman said. Lexa shifted, she felt uncomfortable about the untrue statement. She had started coaching because it was part of her contract with Clarke. Was it still untrue though? The blonde was gone and their contract has expired. Technically she was doing it by her own choice now. “Thank you for dinner.” The green eyed teen said in an attempt to redivert the conversation. “Lexa’s so polite too!” Her friend's mother exclaimed. Costia hissed at her, “Stop embarrassing me.” Lexa had never seen her friend so rattled before. She didn’t like it. After thinking about it, she reached for Costia’s hand under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. Touch seemed to comfort people. She comforted the children with it. Indra had comforted her with it and she liked the hugs Costia gave to her. But this kind of touch only seemed to occur with older people privately. Apparently though, this did not comfort her friend who now seemed to be radiating the colour red.  “Ok, ok. I’m sorry honey.” Said the woman. Costia stood up. “I’m doing the dishes.” Lexa also stood up and began helping to clear the table. She would have to go after this. She had never been home this late before. She thanked Costia’s mother again, and informed Costia she had to leave. Her friend didn’t look at her and replied very, very quietly “Thanks for coming Lexa.” The teen stood on the side of the street and waited for the taxi she ordered. She sighed, people were confusing. Was Costia upset with her mother or with her? After the taxi dropped her off, she saw a note on the table Indra had written her. It said nothing of importance. But the note itself was important. Don’t forget to eat. Have fun with your friends. There was a warm feeling at the knowledge Indra cared for her. The woman didn’t care for her because she was Lexa the Foster Kid. Indra seemed to care about her because she was simply Lexa Woods. Lexa Woods cared about Indra, her friends and the bike riding super kids too. Lexa arrived at the track on Wednesday 2pm. She didn’t know if the organisers would let her, but she hoped if she worked around the club for an hour or so they would let her practice on the track even though it wasn’t open. With only herself as a rider creating a dust storm wouldn’t be an issue. The concern about causing dust in the air, was for the riders behind and affecting their visibility. The teen fetched a bucket of water and began wiping the dust off the bleachers. Lexa couldn’t decide if she wanted to be here or hated being here. The place represented everything that Clarke was, and yet it was the starting point for everything Lexa could envision for herself. She regretted her moment of childishness when she refused to say farewell to the blonde. At the time she had been smug about it. In the last two days she had come to the realisation that she wasn’t angry that the blonde was leaving. She was angry because Clarke was more important to her than she was to Clarke. Lexa put the bucket and cloth away, and went into the tuckshop and began stocking the fridge and shelves. The betrayal she felt was in the knowledge that Clarke hadn’t considered Lexa important enough in her life to tell the teen herself that she was leaving. She had to find out like every other student. The betrayal had been that she trusted Clarke and the blonde had held an important place in Lexa’s life. But she had not held that same place in Clarke’s life in return. It had been one sided. Even with that anger, she missed the blonde already. The loneliness she was feeling was also enhanced by the fact Costia hadn’t called or texted her yesterday or today. So Costia must have been upset with her when she held her hand on Monday night. Why else would she ignore her? When she was finished preparing the tuck shop she spotted one of the officials in the Announcers Box. He hadn’t stopped to think about it when he gave her permission to ride the track. After changing into her track gear she rode down the starting gate. She didn’t rush. Lexa took the time to feel the track underneath her wheels. She took the time to become familiar with the feel of her bike over this terrain.  Half way through the circuit it occurred to her that the track was not an obstacle course for bikes. There was a particular rhythm in the movements and technique involved. She relaxed her posture when she realised this. Lexa had been angry when she raced Clarke on Saturday. She had attempted to ‘arm wrestle’ her way to win the race with strength and persistence even when her legs ached and she was breathing so hard it was almost painful. Her anger had increased when she noticed Clarke didn’t appear to be tired or puffed out after the first two races. She had let Lexa win. Then on the third race the blonde didn’t hold back. Lexa had been out of her league trying to prove something to the blonde on the track. The fourth race Clarke had been more relaxed. But she had been coasting. There hadn’t seemed to be a care or concern in the way the blonde had ridden for anyone else let alone her on the track, and she had still won. Lexa had been so aware and so focused on the blonde she had forgotten about herself. Now though, the teen approached the rhythms, and lifted her front wheel up. Lexa wanted to scooter over them. Instead what happened was that the bike shot out in front of her and Lexa had the wind knocked out of her as she fell on her back. She was grateful for her helmet. “Nice try. But try lifting your front wheel up as you’re going down the first hump. Use your hips. Almost like riding a horse.” The official from Announcers Box called to her Lexa had never ridden a horse. The teen stood up, and picked up her bike and finished the circuit. Then went back to the starting gate to try again. She didn’t fall over this time, but she hadn’t lifted her front wheel high enough so the impact was rocky causing her to be unsteady on the remaining humps of the rhythms. It was progress. Lexa made a decision. She may be late for training but she was ok with that. She waved to the official and rode out of the club and continued to ride, occasionally she would scooter up or down a curb. When she got to her destination she was hot and sweaty. Costia’s mum answered the door with an inviting smile. “Hi Ms Green, is Costia home?” The teen asked. The woman nodded and stepped aside to let her in, “In her room. Second door on the right down the hall.” Lexa took her helmet off as she followed the directions and knocked on the presumed door. Costia opened it, and immediately Lexa was uncomfortable. The Costia who opened the door was not the easy going shy friend. She looked tired and sad. Lexa shifted her weight and blurted out. “I’m sorry for not telling you I was coming over. I just wanted to say sorry. I can go if you want.” Costia’s hand reached out for hers and guided her into the room shutting the door behind them both. “You don’t have to go.” Her words were a statement. Lexa recognised though that Costia was not making a statement as much as she was indicating she didn’t want Lexa to leave. “I’m sorry for upsetting you at dinner.” Lexa said again. Costia laughed, it was a laughter that lacked any joy. “Lexa, do you know why you’re apologising?” “I held your hand and you didn’t like it?” She answered. It was more of a question because it was the only thing she could think of that she did wrong. “Don’t say sorry for holding my hand. I liked it.” Costia shared. Then what else did she do that could have upset her? Lexa stared at her. She was confused. Costia looked at her intently. They said nothing to each other. It was almost like she was trying to tell her something without saying it. Costia sighed. “Mum was teasing me and I was embarrassed. I wasn’t angry at you Lexa.” Lexa hated this. Why couldn’t people just say what they mean? Obviously whatever upset Costia had involved her. Otherwise she wouldn’t have ignored her for the last two days. She asked the most direct question in hopes of a clear answer. “Why were you embarrassed?” “Really?” Costia stared at her, surprise seemed to be written on her face. Then she sighed and smiled. It was that shy smile that made her eyes sparkle. “Lexa. For someone who knows everything that goes on around you, you really are so clueless.” That’s the second time Costia called her clueless. Lexa bit her lip and said quietly “I don’t mean to be.” “Mum was teasing me about you. Because she knows I like you and then you held my hand.” Costia said, she was no longer looking at Lexa, and she looked uncomfortable. Lexa took a moment to think about what’s been said. Lexa had done nothing wrong. Her mum was teasing Costia about her because Costia liked her, then she held Costia’s hand and she was embarrassed. Costia liked her. Oh. Costia liked her. “I’m sorry for being clueless!” Lexa blurted out loudly. Costia looked smaller than she really was and she wouldn’t look at her. Lexa wished she did. “Don’t be sorry. It’s what makes you kind of cute. Nothing has to change.”  Lexa bit her lip again, she wanted to make Costia feel better. “Costia?” “Mmm?” Was the reply. She shifted her weight again. “Is it ok if I hug you?” Costia turned to look at her for a moment and gave a small laugh of disbelief. “Yes Lexa. I would like it if you hugged me.” Lexa sat on the bed next to her and curled an arm around her. Costia leaned her head into her shoulder. They didn’t say anything and she took the opportunity to analyse Costia’s room.  There was a desk in the corner with a laptop on it open and a hoodie hanging off the desk chair. Costia didn’t have a built in wardrobe, instead there was a dresser with a mirror attached to it on the far side of the room. The bedroom window was decorated with light purple curtains which Lexa knew to be Costia’s favourite colour. Her eyes landed onto a bedside table where a book laid open, face down. Robin Hobb - Assassin’s Apprentice . It was a good book. Costia tilted her head. “What’s a good book?” “Assassin’s Apprentice that you’re reading.” Lexa answered. “What’s your favourite book?” Costia asked, leaning her head back down. Lexa didn’t have an answer, truthfully she didn’t have a favourite book. “I don’t have one. Well, I don’t have a favourite. I either like a book I'm in the mood for, or I don't.” She felt Costia exhale a long breath. “I’m jealous, you make things sound so simple.” “I’m learning things aren’t so simple.” She admitted. Things used to be simple and monotonous. Now things were complicated and fluctuating. Costia shifted into her further “Does that bother you?” Lexa thought about it. The question confused her. She needed clarification, “Do I like that things aren’t so simple?” “Mhmm.” A thumb brushed over her hand. “It’s hard.” She said. It was all she could say about it. She took a breath of her own. That’s not strictly true, and she added on “It’s also rewarding.” Costia didn’t reply, and Lexa said nothing further. It was true. It was both challenging and rewarding, and every changing event also changed the way she thought about things. Home used to mean a place for her to return to at night to eat and sleep. Now it meant somewhere she belonged and a place she was a part of. People were things she tolerated in the world she had no choice but to be in. Now people were the reason for her to take part of the world. She almost had two breakdowns since moving here. But even if that were the cost. She thinks she’d be ok with paying it again if it meant she kept moving forward. Because she liked this.  She liked Costia next to her like this. It wasn’t work to speak to her, and she liked that they didn’t even have to talk. Lexa didn’t even mind the extreme physical proximity with her. She wasn’t entirely sure she liked it as much as the other things. But still, Lexa doubted she’d feel the same if Costia were Anya or Raven right now. Lexa turned her head to look at Costia. She wanted to laugh. She had thought this was a comfortable silence between them. But Costia had fallen asleep on her. Now she had a new dilemma.   What should she do now? If she moves she might wake Costia up, but what if she didn’t go and Costia stayed asleep only to wake up and be awkward. Lexa knew from experience that feeling awkward was not something she liked. She couldn’t imagine anyone else liked it either. This is stupid.  Lexa gently guided Costia to lay down on the bed, and left the room quietly shutting the door. “Goodbye Ms Green.” She said as she passed the woman.  It had taken her a long time to ride here from the track. She wouldn’t make it back in time before it closed. So Lexa went home. It was interesting how time changes things. With the school holidays, Lexa made sure to visit the track almost every morning and left at around lunchtime. The officials and organisers were so used to seeing her working with the kids, and working around and riding the track, that they had given her a key to the premises. The trust in the act was something that had touched the teen. So far she never had to use the key, Today though, she skipped going to the track. They were supposed to meet up at Anya’s. Lexa had learned that there were a lot of similarities between herself and her terse friend. Anya was no foster kid, but her parents were rich. Her parents were also never home. So she may as well have been living by herself. The knowledge gave Lexa a better understanding of her friend.  Anya wasn’t grouchy because she was never happy. She seemed grumpy all the time because it was her own invisible armour, and she was loyal to anyone who would accept her despite her unfriendly demeanor. Lexa supposed it was almost like a test to the people outside of her friends' world to see if they cared enough to break through it. She watched as a smiling Raven slid into Anya’s lap and pinched her cheek playfully. The expression on her blonde friend never changed, but there was a fondness in the act when she rolled her eyes at her girlfriend and pulled her closer to her. Lexa felt a hand slip into her own and she squeezed it in acknowledgement. Costia was sitting next to her. Lexa wasn’t sure if Costia was feeling affectionate because she had been watching her friends too, or if she was just feeling spontaneously affectionate. Usually she went out of way to make sure Lexa was aware. But Lexa was ok with this. Apparently Anya and Raven were aware too, because what followed was Raven grinning proudly between Costia and Lexa with a declaration of “Aw, I’m so proud of you both. Look at that Ahn. Costia finally womaned up, and now they’re holding hands.” From the corner of her eye she watched in amusement Costia begin to glow red. She should probably do something about this. After all, Costia is uncomfortable. Lexa squeezed her hand again and gave a smirk to Raven. “Cut it out. Raven, just look at Costia. You’re embarrassing her.” Costia shoved her shoulder and despite a smile she hissed “Lexa!”  Anya gave a smirk of her own. Raven let out a heartfelt laughter. “I told you she’s got jokes babe!” And Lexa was filled with satisfaction at not only feeling comfortable receiving the teasing and affection, but also teasing and giving affection back. She definitely would be practicing these forms of communication again. “Follow me Lexa. If we’re going to watch you get dirty every weekend, then I want to do it too. There’s no way I’m spending every Saturday night bored and watch you ride your bike.” Anya stated, standing up.  Lexa let go of Costia’s hand and followed her to the garage, and in it was a BMX bike. Unlike Lexa’s custom painted dark red, black and light blue, Anya’s was black and yellow. “I asked dad if I could. He sent me some cash for this. He doesn’t care as long as i’m not complaining.” Anya’s voice was rougher than usual and so was her scowl. Lexa knew from her own experiences, and the fact Anya didn’t talk a lot in general, that Anya didn’t want pity. She was stating facts of a situation. Not her feelings about it. The green eyed teen nodded and took a closer look at the bike, lifting it up and feeling it’s weight. It was as light if not lighter than Clarke’s. Lexa’s bike was heaviest out of the three. She moved to look at her blonde friend and acknowledged, “It’s a very nice bike.” Lexa was excited that her friend wanted to do this. She never knew what to talk about with Anya. But maybe they could share this together. It occurred to her though, that just maybe Anya felt the same about her. Because if she didn’t want to sit around the track she could just not come at all, right? Lexa thought it might be counterproductive to point that out, and possibly give the impression she didn’t want Anya to race with her. “I’m not working with the miniturds.” Anya informed her. Miniturds?  Oh. Coaching the kids. She smiled, “You don’t have to. I do it because I enjoy it. I’ve been going to the track in the mornings if you want to meet me there. It’ll just be us.” Her friend folded her arms, and grunted. Anya translation: Approval. They returned to Costia and Raven. Raven seemed to be amusing herself with a bunch of toothpicks. It looked like she was playing a mini game Pick Up Sticks with them. Lexa found that Costia had rotated her chair so that it faced Lexa’s, and when Lexa sat down, there were a pair of feet on her lap. Lexa didn’t mind. After all, it was Costia. Lexa swallowed. She wanted to talk to her friend. Girlfriend? Whatever they were? She shook her head. It didn’t matter. They just were. And she wanted to talk to her. She realised that she admired people who were conversation starters. It was harder than it looked. She’d start simple. “What are you doing these holidays?” “Hanging out with you and them. I hope, and avoiding mum.” Costia said, nodding her head towards the other couple. Right. Not that Lexa was opposed to Costia’s company even in the slightest, but she hadn’t thought about the things they could do together as a group. Most of the time they’d been watching her at the track. But was that really hanging out if there wasn’t hardly any interaction between them? She thought about it. Anya and Raven preferred to be in livelier environments. Costia preferred more tame environments. She had noticed Costia talked more when it was just the two of them. Lexa cocked her head questioningly to Costia and suggested, “Why don’t we do a picnic or something at  the pool? If it gets too noisy in the water we can always go sit in the shade and read a book or something until they want to leave.” Even though she asked Costia the question specifically, Raven didn’t require to be introduced to the conversation as she inserted her opinion, “Hell yeah! Saturday we’re having a Chicken Fight!” Costia smiled sympathetically at her. “I guess that answers your question.” There was no doubt that Lexa would soon be learning and participating in this Chicken Fight, so she didn’t bother to ask the question. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes as she brushed  her fingers against Costia’s calf. The motion and the feel of her skin was something she enjoyed. It was the same feeling she had when she was sanding the paint off her bike. Methodical and relaxing. She thought about the upcoming weekend. This weekend was special for the club. This was the weekend threel track clubs in the three surrounding towns would race on each other's track. Lexa only expected to race at Arkcadia tomorrow night though. But it would be her first competition formally. It made her think of Clarke. Clarke’s absence was something she was always aware of. It was there, but not commonly in the forefront of her mind. Possibly similar to music in the background that became white noise to the listener. Lexa didn’t want to think about Clarke. “Do you have any hobbies other than reading?” She asked Costia. She didn’t stop rubbing her fingers against her legs. Costia chuckled. “I like to sing.” Lexa opened her eyes and looked at her. Imagining Costia singing with her light brown curls swaying and sporting a light blush was a surprisingly endearing picture. Lexa didn’t ask, but maybe Costia would show her one day. She turned her gaze to Anya and Raven. The Sassy Brunette was saying something quietly and Anya was sporting a smirk. It wasn’t too long ago that being involved with something like this would have given Lexa a heart attack. She had enjoyed herself today, but she was reaching her limit now. She had been here for a few hours, and now she wanted to go home. Would it be rude to leave first? She bit her lip and looked back at Costia who was watching her with a smile. Lexa must have been obvious because the light haired brunette took her legs off her and said “You can go if you want. I’ll call you later, ok?” Lexa smiled gratefully, and said her goodbyes. She put in her earbuds and then strapped her helmet on and rode home. Riding casually was different than riding on the track. It was no less enjoyable. She liked the fresh smells and the vibrant colours the track lacked. Lexa was curious when she arrived home because Ms Blake’s car was in the driveway. Cautiously she entered the house and found Ms Blake and Indra sitting at the table. She hadn’t seen Ms Blake since before her and Clarke had raced. Even then, they hadn’t spoken. They haven’t talked since the teacher found her at the construction site. They both turned to her at the sound of her opening the door, and Lexa shifted nervously. “You have a visitor.” Indra offered the obvious, as a way of an explanation. Ms Blake’s expression was neutral as she said. “The Track Meet Races are this weekend. I know you don’t have transport. I’ll take you if you want to do it.” The teen appreciated Ms Blake’s directness. She was also surprised by Ms Blake’s offer and she nodded dumbly. “Good.” The teacher said, getting up. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at four.” Lexa watched as Ms Blake walked past her, but just before she got to the door she stopped and turned to her. “Before I forget. Come here. I got something for you.” The teen followed her silently, and Ms Blake reached into the backseat of her car pulling out a red duffle bag and tossed it at her. It landed with a heavy thunk at her feet before getting into the car and starting the engine.  “Enjoy, Woods.” The woman said before driving off. The teen sighed and picked up the bag and went to her room. She couldn’t tell if the teacher liked her or not. She guessed it was irrelevant in any case. She should just appreciate she’d get to race all three tracks this weekend regardless of Ms Blake’s motivations. She sat the bag down on her bed and opened it. The first thing she saw was a black and teal coloured full-face BMX helmet. Strapped on the outside were a pair of black and clear lensed BMX goggles. She picked up the helmet. It was very light. She put the helmet down. In the bag there was a matching set of a lighter teal, black and red BMX jersey shirt, pants and gloves.  What the hell? Sure, these beat Clarke’s old long clothes that acted as her protective wear. But this is too much. She picked up the jersey shirt and inspected it closely. It wasn’t new. These were second hand, she could see where the previous owner had hand sewn a couple of repairs on it. She looked at the helmet again, the helmet was new though. Lexa pulled out her phone, and opened up her group chat. Lexa Woods: I have to cancel Saturday. Got track meet races this weekend. Sorry.Raven Reyes: Boo. We’ll expect compensation.Anya Forrest: Ignore her. Good luck.Costia Green: Can I come?Lexa Woods: I’ll have to ask. Let you know tomorrow. Lexa looked at her new racing gear. On top of asking Ms Blake if Costia could join them, she’d have to remember to thank her for this. Clarke growled to herself in aggravation. She really wasn’t having any luck lately. She had decided to take part time summer classes externally. The blonde hated going back to school, she just wasn’t one to sit in a classroom and listen to a teacher drone on and on. That was why when she had been teaching she tried to utilize a variety of teaching methods. But she had never planned on teaching older kids. She had always wanted to specialise in early childhood development which required a further two years after she had completed her Bachelors. But then one of the water pipes to the small studio apartment she had leased for the next two years had burst, not even a week after moving in flooding the place, forcing her to rent a hotel. Her landlord had been gracious enough to cover 50% of the hotel bill. But he would not cover the hotel fees for internet access for her schooling, the cheap bastard. Then to top it off, Clarke had gone to do some off-road riding down one of the hill trails in the town to blow off some steam and to become familiar with the area when she had bailed. The fall had caused a crack in her frame. You can’t ride a bike with a fractured frame. That was an injury that was waiting to happen. So after cursing the series of events she had angrily stripped her now piece of shit bike of all its usable parts and went to a bike shop and bought all the parts she needed and bought a stripped down frame so she could custom paint it. She had appreciated that the Polis BMX club had been slightly sympathetic to her situation and had allowed her to put together and paint her bike on the premises. For a $100 fee of course. Clarke loved painting and tinkering with bikes. She had a passion for BMX period and she had been messing with bikes for as long as she can remember. The blonde was so familiar with them that there was very little thought processed as she worked. There was an appreciation towards the mindlessness of the task as she physically tinkered which was the polar opposite to being an English Teacher. Where that job required much more mental stimulation and a lot less physical exertion. Clarke was damn happy with how her new bike turned out. Naturally when Clarke had shared these unfortunate events with Octavia over a video skype call, her friend had laughed at her misfortune and the blonde had to mentally questioned her choice in friends. She had retracted that thought when Octavia knocked on her hotel room door the very next day later in the evening with a half a case of beers, and they sat on the floor using the bed as their backrest drinking and catching up. It sounded like things with Octavia and her boyfriend were getting serious. Every relationship had a honeymoon phase, and she hoped her friends' relationship would last far beyond that. Octavia was sorta squishy on the inside. Like Grumpy Bear from Care Bears. It was when Clarke was feeling pleasantly drunk that Octavia shared, “Woods got herself a girlfriend now.” Clarke smirked and quipped, “Don’t you mean Costia has a girlfriend?” Octavia laughed, “Woods still coaches the younguns, and Costia’s with her all the time whenever she’s at the track.” The image of an awkward, extremely uncomfortable but still adorable Lexa looking baffled with Costia clinging to her was hilarious to the blonde. She did not share her mental picture with her friend. Octavia mentioning the track had caused her to be reminded of the Track Meet Races. She had hoped to go and see how Lexa was for herself under the guise of attending the races but with everything else going on that obviously wasn’t happening. But that also reminded her of something else. Clarke turned to face her friend and put on her best pleading expression.  Octavia’s eyes narrowed. “No.” “I haven’t even said anything!” She defended. “You don’t have to. I know that look, and the answer is no.” Her friend declared. Clarke rolled her eyes, and pointed out, “You don’t even know what it is.” “What do you want Griffin?” Her friend asked, giving in. The blonde drank the rest of her beer and opened a new one. “Can you take Lexa to the Track Meet Races?” “What do I look like? A taxi driver?” Octavia scoffed. Clarke laughed, and pointed out. “You did it before when I hurt my leg.” “Yeah but that was when you had hurt your leg .” The brunette growled. The blonde became serious. “Please do this for me?” It didn’t need to be said that Clarke was asking for Lexa. Clarke stood up and stumbled slightly. Causing Octavia to gruffly say, “Ok, fine i’ll take her. But I’m not doing this again. Now sit down Griffin before you hurt yourself.” Clarke ignored her. She was dizzy but she didn’t want to forget this thought. She plopped herself infront of her luggage bags that kept her clothes and began looking for her old set of racing gear.  As she found each item the blonde threw them at her friend, occasionally hitting her with them. Clarke frowned, and stood up and nearly tripped over several items of clothes trying to reach her wallet on the other side of the room. Pulling out three $50s she also tossed them at Octavia, and she slurred as she sat down next to the brunette closing her eyes. “Get her a new helmet too.” She felt Octavia’s head rest against her shoulder. “Whatever you want Princess.” Clarke was tired and she was just about to fall asleep when Octavia’s own tired voice asked her, “Do you want me to tell her it’s from you?” The blonde yawned and tried to contemplate the question through her haze. Lexa was angry at her. There was nothing to be gained by either antagonising the teen or at worst encouraging reattachment. Quietly she answered, “No.” “What do you want me to tell her then?” Her friend questioned. Clarke was too tired and too drunk for this. She closed her eyes again. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. Now shut up and sleep with me.” When Clarke woke up the following morning on the carpet of the room, she cursed the world again. Her back was stiff and she had a raging hangover. Apparently she had become a lightweight in the past year.  Octavia was long gone and had left a note that said ‘ You owe me Griffin.’ underneath a coffee that was now lukewarm and a brown paper bag that held a ham and cheese croissant. The blonde didn’t dare to try and speculate what her friend would want to cash in with. Not that it was really that concerning. They’ve always had each other's backs no matter what. The blonde looked around. The room was trashed with clothes all over the place, and she sighed and began picking everything up, then called the landlord to follow up on the progress with the busted pipe. It was only all too convenient that he didn’t answer the phone. Clarke had saved most of her salary from teaching so she would be able to get through two more years of college comfortably if she had also gotten a casual job on the side.  But she wouldn’t be able to afford this much longer if the landlord didn’t get the studio apartment fixed up soon, and she had already blown much more money than she had anticipated on this hotel room and replacing bike parts and all other associated costs. She hadn’t wanted to do full time work and full time study. Maybe the answer was to do six units over the summer semester, and when the regular school year started do full time work and part time study. Clarke groaned as she thought about this. This was not how she had planned this time of her life. She laughed to herself. The only consistent thing in life are it’s inconsistencies, and no amount of preparation will change that.  Regardless of what she thought about this; she logged into the college website while she started to munch on the croissant that O had left for her, and proceeded to make the appropriate enrollment changes and then to double check her resume. She would apply for work later. Right now, she needed a pick me up, and she knew exactly how to get it. She opened up skype and video called Bellamy who promptly answered with a “Good afternoon Princess.” and looked at her image on the video. “Woah you look like you had a wild night.” He had a point, she probably should have showered by now. This actually worked to her advantage though, as she gave him a half smile and yawned saying, “Yeah Bell. Sorry, I slept with your sister.” Bellamy Blake’s eyes bugged out and the call had disconnected. The laughter that erupted from herself was precisely what Clarke needed. Lexa was sitting with Indra in her new BMX gear. They were lighter, and cooler and her body could breathe easier in comparison to her old ones. There was something about them though that left her confused, a feeling like there’s something she knows but can’t bring it to the forefront of her mind. It’s probably just because they're new and this is the first time she’s wearing them. But her confidence was already boosted just by wearing them.  “Good luck at the races. See if you can get someone to get some pictures of you.” Indra said with an encouraging smile. The younger brunette frowned, “I guess I can see if Ms Blake will take some for you.” Honestly speaking she didn’t see the point. If she’s racing the pictures wouldn’t show who was under the helmet, and also she had no idea why Indra wanted photos of her period. But her carer never asked for much, so Lexa wasn’t opposed to doing it. “I’ll be happy if I make it into the top four.” Lexa shared. Indra cocked her head in confusion, “How many do you race against?” “The starting gate is only made for eight people. So there’s only ever eight racers max on the track.” Lexa explained. “So why is your goal to be in the top four?” The older woman enquired. She didn’t appear to be critical of the set goal, just curious. Lexa bit her lip. The memory of losing against Clarke was still a bit of a sore spot. But it also had given her somewhat of a reality check. “Because I’m inexperienced.. I’m already one of the best girls at the Arkadia track, but who knows what the competition is going to be like for the other clubs? So, I figured setting the standard to the top half would be a winnable goal.” Indra nodded in understanding. “That’s reasonable. But remember it’s just about having fun.” The teen nodded, and stood up to get her half filled water bottle out of the freezer. When she was in the process of filling up the other half Ms Blake knocked on the door and entered the house. “Good afternoon Indra. Hello Woods, ready to go?” “Yes, just let me get my bag first.” Lexa replied. It was a bit unsettling the way Ms Blake watched her movements. Like she was trying to figure something out. It reminded her of the time the teacher had made a vague comment about hoping it (whatever it had been) was worth it. But considering Ms Blake was doing her a pretty big favour right now, she wasn’t going to question it. Lexa thought it might be akin to shooting herself in the foot. She did want to race all the tracks after all.  It could just be that the rather terse teacher likes her after all. Ms Blake had rolled her eyes but asked for the address when Lexa had asked if Costia could come and if they could pick her up. The teen really hadn’t expected the teacher to agree. Because Clarke hadn’t. “Now that high school's out what do you girls have planned for yourselves?” Ms Blake asked. The question surprised Lexa. Honestly she hadn’t even thought about it, and Indra hasn’t brought it up to her either, it was even more surprising that Ms Blake was even starting a conversation with them both. Usually the car rides were quiet and somewhat awkward. Thankfully her girlfriend had an answer, delaying Lexa’s requirement of an answer. “I want to go to Mount Weather University and study Humanitarian Aid and Development.” The curly haired teen answered. Lexa suspected Costia’s chosen degree was influenced by her mother. “Interesting. A noble career path.” Ms Blake acknowledged, “What about you Lexa?” The teen had no idea anymore than she did thirty seconds ago. “I haven’t really thought about it. It didn’t occur to me.” Ms Blake glanced at her then returned her eyes to the road. “Anything you’re interested in?” “Not really.” Lexa shrugged.  It was really only a few months ago that Lexa hadn’t been interested in anything except books and music. “Hm. Have you thought about vocational training?” The teacher suggested. The green eyed teen, shrugged. She didn’t know. “It’s less than a college degree, but you become specialised in your chosen area.” Ms Blake replied. “What areas are there?” Costia asked before Lexa could. “Different things. Hospitality, Youth Work, Disability Support, Aged Care and Community services. Mostly social community work. Depending on where you choose to study and what level you want to achieve it can be a six months full time study course, or twelve months or twenty four months. There’s always a high employment rate for Community Service.” The older brunette explained. Huh. Interesting. It’s certainly worth a think about. She really liked the thought of finding a job that would help other people. She’d need to look into it more and see what exactly she wanted to do. Maybe she could talk to Indra and see what she thinks. Wow . That was the only thing Lexa could think when they pulled into the club. She had never seen so many people at the Arkadia track before. She definitely didn’t like this and she hadn’t thought about how all the different clubs’ racers and their families would crowd the place. She didn’t want to stand out and be noticed. With so many people, the races would be best out of three, and that thought lowered the anxiety she was feeling. They managed to find a spot to set their gear at. There were racers already warming up on the track. A lot of them were very good. Clarke and Ms Blake very good. Lexa questioned if ending up in the top four was a realistic goal after all. But with that being said she didn’t know which racers she would be racing. With the helmets on and the baggyish long clothes it was difficult to tell from a distance which racers were male or female. Then it occurred to her; the helmets were going to be on. Lexa hadn’t thought about that when she saw the crowd of people. She had simply been surprised by the turn out. But her helmet would provide a sense of anonymity. Even if by some miracle she made it into the top three she wouldn’t stand out that much because of that fantastic piece of head protection. Her anxiety disappeared. She could do this. Lexa reached into her bag and gave Costia her phone. “Indra wants photos. Do you mind?” The curly hair brunette took it and shook her head. “I’ll try.” “Thanks. I’m going to go and warm up.” She said. Lexa paced herself as she went  and did a couple of circuits. She knew Arkadia’s track like the back of her hand now, she should certainly hope so with all the practice she had been putting in here. And when Ms Blake signalled her to go to her. Lexa obeyed. She figured if the teacher was calling her over there’d be a good reason. “Rest. The races will begin soon and you don’t want to burn all your energy.” The teacher advised. Lexa removed her helmet and sat down next to Costia and leaned against her. She appreciated the fact they didn’t have to talk to be happy with each other. Her girlfriend was humming to herself and Lexa placed a hand on her thigh and observed the racers on the track. When the Commentator called for her race she squeezed Costia’s thigh in affection, and stood up. When she reached to get her helmet and just before she was about to put it on, Costia stood and stepped towards her and held her wrist lowering both their arms.  Lexa cocked her head in confusion. She needed her helmet. But her girlfriend looked at her carefully and said nothing, and slowly leaned towards her and pressed her lips against hers. Oh. Costia is kissing her. It was strange in the fact that it was new. But it was a good type of strange. Definitely a type of strange she could repeat. She moved her lips awkwardly to return the kiss. How does a person know how to kiss well? Costia pulled back, she had already turned red with the small shy smile she sported. “Good luck Lexa. I’m sure you’ll do great.” Lexa was sure she was red too. But grinned. The kiss made her feel good. It made her feel confident. “Thanks.” She put on her helmet and manipulated the straps then put her racing goggles on. She didn’t see the need to explain she wasn’t thanking her for the good luck. She took her position at the starting gate. The starting gate was full. She was racing against seven others. The gate slammed down and she pedalled as hard and as fast as she could. She went over the first set of jumps working with her bike, not working her bike over it. There were four racers in front of her and one beside her. She jumped the set of Doubles, causing her to pass the racer to her right who had decided to simply roll over them.  That meant that Lexa was in fifth place. Number Four was barely a bike length ahead of her. They entered the Berm and Number Four was forced to go up high since she had been on the outside, this didn’t necessarily give Lexa an advantage because it meant she had a sharper turn and she had to slow down slightly. Regardless, her and Number Four were now neck to neck. Lexa jumped up the Step Up, and rolled over the Table Top entering the second Berm. She couldn’t seem to shake Number Four and her legs ached. She chanced a brief look behind her. Numbers Six, Seven and Eight were far behind. Number Four was slowing down a bit. Good. This meant she was tired and aching too. This bit of knowledge gave Lexa the motivation to power through, and she overtook Number Four over the third Berm. There doubted she could pass Number Three. They were on the last straight, and Number One and Two were just passing the finish line. At best Lexa could try and catch up to Number Three.  Lexa passed the finish line half a bike length behind Number Three. When she got off her bike her legs were wobbly and she needed to sit down, she was breathing so hard her lungs were on fire. She could feel how her body heat was radiating off her. She definitely had a new appreciation for this newish jersey now. But she did it. First race and she achieved her starting goal. Ms Blake nodded to her. “Good job Woods. But flatten your body to your bike more when you jump. It’ll reduce air resistance a bit.” Costia smiled proudly at her and giggled. “I’d hug you. But you’re kind of dirty.” The green eyed teen smiled back. She didn’t mind. She was just happy Costia was here with her for this. “Oh. I only got one photo.” Her girlfriend said. Lexa shrugged, and held out her hand to Costia so she could sit next to her and they watched the current racers. The thought that she could do this type of thing for the rest of her life was a thrilling prospect. Lexa was exhilarated, and proud and happy. The next two races were even better. She came third in the second race, and fourth by less than half a meter in the final race. It was an extremely successful night. Ms Blake even took a photo on her own phone of Lexa and Costia smiling widely for the camera, and when Lexa stripped herself of her jersey leaving her in her sports top she held onto Costia firmly. Lexa had wanted to kiss her again, but she wasn’t ready to take that first step. She would wait until Costia did it again. It didn’t matter. This was the best night she’s ever had so far. She hoped tomorrow night would be better. Lexa had ended up placing third place in the Track Meet Races. She would have been much prouder of herself for the placement if the person she kept tying for third place with, hadn’t injured herself bailing on the second night causing her to forfeit.  The brunette was not nearly as ecstatic about her placement as she had been at Arkadia’s track. But she received a nice plastic gold painted trophy with her name and the year engraved on the plaque at the end of the event on the final night, and another kiss from Costia. Her girlfriend had managed to get a few more photos for Indra of her racing, and receiving her trophy. Even Ms Blake took a couple of photos of them smiling and holding each other. They dropped Costa off first and when Ms Blake pulled into Indra’s driveway, Lexa made no effort to exit the vehicle. It occurred to her that Ms Blake had no reason to take any pictures. Or even take her to the track. They hadn’t spent any real time together. There was no contract, and she learned the hard way already; they were not friends by any means. The reasoning for her silence about questioning the teachers motivation was over too. It didn’t feel as if she was shooting herself in the foot by asking now, and risk not being about to attend the Track Meet. Lexa looked out the window to her house. She didn’t want to make eye contact with the older woman. Quietly she asked her, “If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me?” “I won’t lie to you Woods.” Ms Blake grunted immediately. Lexa didn’t think Ms Blake would. There was a kind of bluntness to her that made you believe deceit wasn’t a trait of hers. But she had asked anyway simply for comfort. The teen paused. She wasn’t sure how to approach this. She had a feeling she knew the answers, but thinking you know the answer and having the assumed answer confirmed or rejected is a scary prospect. Lexa wasn’t sure she wanted to know anymore. But, she had already taken the first step, and she supposed there was no going back now. The teen took a breath, and noticed Indra peeked through the curtain of a window in the house. “Why did you do this for me? Taking me here and giving me new racing stuff?” There was a long silence, long enough for Lexa to almost repeat her question until Ms Blake’s voice answered almost regretfully, “Are you sure you want to know?” Lexa didn’t answer. If the other woman wouldn’t lie to her then she wouldn’t like either. She turned to stare at Ms Blake and found the teacher already staring at her intently, her expression was hard. The teen swallowed a lump forming in her throat. “Clarke.”  It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Ms Blake’s expression never changed as she replied, “Why ask the question then Woods?” Lexa didn’t answer the question, instead she made another statement. “These clothes aren’t yours are they.” This time it was the teacher who didn’t answer. It was all the answer Lexa needed. The teacher turned her head and stared through the windscreen. Anger began to bubble up in her and she gritted her teeth. Clarke had left her with no warning after she had bonded with the blonde, and as far as Lexa was concerned Clarke had lost all privileges to do with her. She doesn’t need Clarke Griffin’s help. Lexa growled, “Does she ask about me?” “No.” Ms Blake replied. For such a simple answer its impact hit her hard. Clarke never enquired about her. But she went through the effort to do this for her. But couldn’t be bothered to ask about her. The teen couldn’t stop though, “Then why did she give these to me? Why did she make you take me?” “Lexa I don’t know. And I didn’t ask. I went to visit her and she literally threw them at me to give to you after she begged me to take you for her.” The woman said in exasperation. Lexa thought that might have been one of the longest things she had ever said to her. But still she didn’t want or need Clarke. She growled again, “So you agreed to take me and deliver me her things because she asked you, and you didn’t even ask why?” “Yes Lexa. Clarke is my best friend. We’ve been best friends for so long she’s more like my sister, and I would do anything that makes her happy and that she would ask without question, and she would do the same for me. That’s how close we are. If you have a problem with Clarke then take it up with her. But as far as I see it she was doing you a favour.” Ms Blake growled back. The teen undid her seat belt and pulled the BMX jersey over head and got out of the car throwing it into the seat she had just occupied. There was nothing she could do about her jersey pants unless she wanted to strip down to her underwear. “Thank you for taking me Ms Blake. But I don’t want or need anything from her.” She asserted picking up her trophy and slammed the door leaving the duffle bag in the car and went around the back to unload her bike. The teacher didn’t come out to say anything more, or to help her. When Lexa had pushed her bike so she was close enough to open the door the car was still there. Then teen went into the house and didn’t look back outside. “Did it go that badly?” Indra asked in her calm way. Lexa though was anything but calm. She placed her trophy on the table, and glared at it. Her carer arched an eyebrow but didn’t ask anything more. Lexa knew Indra was waiting for her. “The new clothes were Clarkes.” She hissed. Her carer looked unperturbed, “Yes I know. And what about it?” The teen grit her teeth. Indra knew, Ms Blake knew. Everyone knew but her. “You knew. Why didn’t you say anything?” Now Lexa was just mad at everyone. Her carer looked surprised at the question, “Of course I know. I always know what’s going on Lexa. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it mattered. I wasn’t hiding it from you. I just didn’t think it was important. You’ve always said from day one you wanted to race. It was all better equipment than what you had.” “But they were from Clarke!” Lexa was getting louder. Indra though remained calm and looked her in the eyes as she asked “So?” So? So? So? How could she explain it. It being from Clarke was the entire explanation needed, and yet Indra didn’t seem to understand!  “She’s taking this from me.” She said. As she said it she knew it sounded childish. It wasn’t what she meant. Indra arched her brow again, and said nothing. “When I think something is mine, she’s somehow involved.” She tried to clarify. “When I’m at the track, she’s the one who introduced me. I was excited to race, and excited I came third. But it only happened because she made Ms Blake take me. The clothes made me feel like a real racer. I felt good, but even those came from her.” Her carer sighed, “So what you mean is you want to be separated from her. Completely independent of her support? Might be best to tell her that yourself.” Lexa stopped. That was precisely what she was trying to say. She nodded dumbly. She was relieved Indra seemed to understand. Indra’s understanding depleted Lexa of her anger, and her mind jumped to what Ms Blake had said. Sitting down in a chair she recalled, “Ms Blake said her and Clarke are best friends, close enough that they’re like sisters. That they’d do anything for each other.” Indra sipped her tea. “I think I feel that way about you. I’m going to my room.” Lexa said. She stood up and just as she was about to exit the room Indra called out, “I love you too Lexa.” The teen threw herself down onto her bed. She was tired, physically and emotionally. There had been too much excitement both good and bad this weekend. Ms Blake and Indra had both advised her to talk to Clarke if she was upset. She might as well get this over with then and call her. She still had the blondes number. She dialed her number. She was filled with anxiety about this confrontation. The blonde didn’t answer and it went to voicemail. Lexa hung up without leaving a message. Lexa called Costia next. Unlike Clarke, her girlfriend did answer. “Hi Lexa, missed me already?” The teasing tone was also shy. Even the sound of Costia’s voice caused warmth to spread throughout her body. “Of course. What are you doing?” The brunette asked. “I was looking at the unit structure for the university, and avoiding mum.” Costia hummed. Lexa grinned, familiar things were good. “This hide and seek game between you and your mother won’t be finished anytime soon huh.” Costia laughed, “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Well, everytime I ask you what you’re doing; you’re always avoiding your mum.” She explained amusedly. Her girlfriend's voice was light, and she giggled “Fair enough. That’s true I guess. She just annoys me so much.” “Why?” She asked curiously. “She always wants me to do more and be better and do better. Nothing I do is good enough, you know?” Costia explained. No. Lexa didn’t know, and she didn’t understand either. It sounded like to her that Costia’s mother just wants what’s best for her, and for Costia to do better than she did. At least, Lexa presumed that would be a reasonable and likely want for all parents for their kids. Right? She stopped her thought process. She didn’t know if she was being fair. Lexa didn’t have any experience to reference from. None of her carers excluding Indra were ever concerned about her grades. None of her carers including Indra had even asked about her future prospects. She hadn’t experienced the care and by extension that pressure gives to someone. Lexa gave a neutral response that she hoped was also somewhat supportive. “I’m sorry, that must be hard.” Costia sighed over the phone. “She also wants me to start writing a list now for everything I need. We still have two months.” “Everything you need? Like school books?” She asked. “Yeah, books, clothes, bedsheets, whatever else.” Costia listed off. “Clothes and bedsheets?” Now Lexa was confused. “Why would you need those?” “Well, I’m not going to be wearing the same set of clothes and sleep on a naked mattress for the next four years Lexa.” Her girlfriend stated as if it were obvious. The green eyed teen was missing something. She sighed. She hated these guessing games, and she hated not even know what question to ask to get the answers she was looking for. After all she did ask Costia why she needed those items. “Lexa, you know I’m going to Mount Weather University.. I said that when Ms Blake asked the other night.” Costia said. “Yes..” Lexa said slowly. Costia’s voice came out hesitant, “You know that Mount Weather isn’t here in Arcadia..” The pieces fell into place. Costia was leaving as well. Her heart started to pound loudly, and her mind had gone into the freeze effect.  Costia was leaving. “Sorry. I have to go.” and Lexa didn’t wait for a response when she hung up. She had heard Costia say Mount Weather University but she hadn’t really processed that. Costia would be leaving Arcadia. Costia knew what she wanted to do and had prepared for it. Lexa didn’t know what she wanted to do and she was being left behind. Independence.  It’s such a commonly used word, with such a complicated meaning. To do something on your own or to rely on oneself. As a child your dependency on those around you is high. As a teen your dependence and independence is misconstrued. Teens like to believe they’re independent so they can make their own choices regarding their immediate and future lives while depending on their parents or carers for a bed to sleep in and food to eat, and as an adult they’re expected to make their own way and be completely and utterly responsible for themselves, and yet complete independence is unobtainable as a member of society you’re interconnected in somewhat shape or form to every other member of society. Lexa had never believed she was independent for her own survival. She never had to concern herself with it beyond her basic needs. Food, sleep, clothing, showering and schooling, which were all provided for her. Her carers have never pressed her on the importance of future planning, nor had her carers ever pressured her to get good grades for college.  Independence was not something that Lexa had ever considered to be her goal. Clarke was independent and she was working towards a happier independence. Costia was going to university to achieve her independence. Anya had no idea what she wanted either. She snorted when Lexa had asked and said something along the lines of ‘Whatever comes my way.’ and It sounded like Raven was going to do an apprenticeship in mechanics here in Arkadia so she could stay with the blonde grump. Nor was the concept of co-dependence with a partner a goal for her before. She had never believed she would have a partner to ever consider the possibility. Not that she thought she wasn’t worth it, or that she had low self esteem.  In fact Lexa was confident in her ability to break down information and analyse it. It was more she often didn’t know how to interpret the information which made it awkward for her to interact with those around her. Most of it came down to two options: what was most likely, and what was least likely. Lexa had no confidence in her applicable skills. So she could reasonably understand why she had never had friends before the T.T.T or even a crush or someone crushing on her before Costia. Lexa wasn’t upset anymore about the upcoming absence of Costia. She had been initially, when the curly haired brunette literally spelled it out to her. However, she couldn’t be upset about why, and she did have warning and unlike Clarke, Costia wasn’t bound by any sense of ethics to cut ties completely. Costia wasn’t really leaving her if they kept in touch.  Lexa liked kissing Costia and when they leaned on each other. But it’s not like physical contact was a requirement for her, she liked it but because it had always been a few and far between for her, Lexa was certain to go without again wouldn’t bother her. The teen would be happy as long as Costia and her kept in touch. So now Lexa was scrolling on her phone in bed, looking up different possibilities for her future. She was looking for nothing in particular but she hoped she would find something that would interest her somewhat. Indra hadn’t been much help with any suggestions. She just gave a peculiar speech about the value of a job no matter what it was. There’s the same amount of honor in flipping burgers as there is in performing heart surgery. Hospital staff work hard and long hours and so do teachers. If they’re having a long and tiring day, they’re going to go to the burger flipper for a fast and convenient meal. It all pays off one way or another Lexa. Do what makes you happy. Lexa wasn’t sure most of society would agree with that. Everytime she had seen adult strangers greet each other it was always with a handshake, their name, and then the question “So what do you do?”. If your chosen job was based on your happiness, surely other people didn’t need to have a category of box to put you in based on your profession? Lexa wanted to do something meaningful. She really didn’t care if she didn’t make a lot of money as long as she was making her basic needs. The teen stretched, and got up. She was thirsty. Indra was watching a show on TV that  she had never seen before. Her carer was odd with the way she watched the box. She always muted the sound and read the subtitles instead. Lexa sat next to her and waited. As the teen expected her carer turned the TV and shuffled on the couch to face her a bit. Lexa also knew Indra wouldn’t speak first. “You know how my birthday is coming up?” She asked hesitantly. “Mmmm.” Indra replied. Lexa swallowed. “What’s going to happen to me?” The older woman shrugged, “You’re an adult. What do you want to happen?” “I mean, are you going to kick me out? What’s the process with being a ward of the state? You’re not going to continue to get payments for me are you?” She clarified. Both of Indra’s brows shot up. “You know I don’t make any money by being a carer. The money the government gives me for you is to cover the costs of food, clothing and medical. That’s why I still work the night shift. I’m not going to put you out. But you will have to do something. Study or work.” “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been looking.” Lexa admitted. She didn’t know how to respond to Indra’s admission. Her carer stayed silent, but the teen could see the cogs in her head turning. Indra opened her mouth. “You like coaching those children on their bikes?” Lexa nodded. “Then why don’t you start there. If you like working with kids, look up things to do with that?” Indra turned on the TV again, signifying the end of the conversation. Lexa went back to her room. Working with kids. She could actually see herself doing that, and she never felt weird or awkward around them. Kids were so innocently non-judgmental and they were just over all precious. The teen didn’t want to do any long periods of schooling. She just wanted to ‘do’. So maybe an apprenticeship or that vocational training? She browsed for a while before Vocational Training in Youth Work caught her eye. She clicked on it. It seemed to be a versatile job. There was case management youth work and recreational youth work for employment options. She could also take an extra unit in cultural diversity and disability & mental health if she wanted. Six month course with one month paid practical training. It also boasted a high employment rating. Lexa didn’t bother looking at the wages. She hit the ‘apply’ link and started the application process. When she finished she put on Clarke’s old clothes the blonde had first given her and texted Anya to tell her she was going to the track, then walked her BMX bike out, telling Indra the same thing. When she got outside, she saw the duffle bag and the brand new helmet on the doorstep. Lexa huffed to herself and picked them up, and went back inside and changed into them. It would be just like Ms Blake to ignore her temper tantrum and leave them there for her anyway. She got to the track before her blonde friend did, and did a few circuits. When Anya did finally arrive, they sat next to each other.  “I applied for Vocational Training in Youth Work.” Lexa said. The blonde snorted. “Good luck dealing with that.” The brunette didn’t say anything else. Anya obviously thought it was a stupid move. “Costia says you’re ignoring her.” Anya said gruffly. It wasn’t a question. It was a demand for an answer. “She’s going to Mount Weather University.” Lexa shrugged. “She’s your girlfriend, you need to talk to her.” The blonde growled. Lexa agreed. Costia was worth more than her silence. But she had needed time to process and reason it out in her head. She hadn’t left her room except to use the bathroom and eat for two days after she found out. Lexa hadn’t been wallowing. Just processing. “I know. When you turn 18, are you going to move out or wait?” Lexa asked. Now Anya shrugged. “Dad doesn’t care. If I stay then he knows the house is ok and doesn’t have to pay somebody to house sit. It’s free rent.” The brunette cocked a brow, “What about Raven?” “Mind your own business.” Anya grunted. Lexa smirked. Whatever Raven had planned it must involve Anya to invoke that kind of response. Independence huh? Such a contradicting concept. “Wanna mock race?” Lexa suggested. “First to do three continuous circuits.” Anya agreed, setting the conditions. It was interesting watching Anya race even in practice. She made the same mistakes as Lexa had when she first started. All power and bruteforce. So she tired out easily. The track worked her rather than the other way around and going over the obstacles were clumsy rather than following the flow. Lexa never corrected her. Anya would learn through experience just like she did. The brunette won. When they were taking a drink break her friend said, “This is my queue to leave, later.” Lexa was confused until the blonde indicated somewhere behind her. It was Costia. She didn’t know what to expect or say but she decided to give a half smile to her girlfriend to let her know that Lexa had no hard feelings anymore. “I stopped by your house. Indra said you were here. I’m sorry, I thought when I first said Mount Weather you would have known.” The curly haired brunette started. She looked sad and unsure. Lexa didn’t want her to look sad and unsure. She wrapped her arms around Costia and pressed their bodies together. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to ghost you. I just needed to think.” Her girlfriend nodded into her shoulder, and Lexa continued, “I’m not upset. But I need you to promise me something. Only promise it if you can keep it.” Costia’s voice was muffled as she asked, “What?” “Promise me we’ll keep in touch, call me or something?” Lexa was begging. She hadn’t meant to beg. It was supposed to be a reasonable request. Costia pulled back, confusion written in her expression. “Do you want a long distance relationship?” Lexa hadn’t even thought of that. She’d be ok with it she guessed. Well, more than ok with it to be honest. Again, the lack of physical contact wouldn’t affect her too much. It would be more of a concern if Costia could handle it. “I care about you. If you want to we can try. If you don’t, just please stay in touch?” She asked again. The smile that Costia gave her was brilliant on her usually shy face, and her girlfriends hands reached up to cup her face before she kissed her. This kiss was different though because Costia pressed herself even more firmly against her and Lexa felt Costia’s tongue swipe at her lips, and instinctively Lexa granted access. When they pulled apart Lexa couldn’t help but smirk, “I’ll take that as a yes.” The curly haired brunette gave a small smirk of her own completely absent of any blushing, “It wouldn’t be a ‘no’ if i’m kissing you like that. Now shut up.” And Costia kissed her again. “Mum will make me come home on the holidays. For someone who wants me to go out and make her mark on the world you’d think mum would be ok with me moving out.” Costia sighed. Lexa grinned, and said softly “Your mum cares about you, she’ll miss you. I’ll miss you too.” “I’ll miss mum too.” Costia sighed, then gave her glace from the corner of her eye. “I might even miss you too.” CHAPTER 27 Lexa woke up and opened her eyes. She remembered listening to the excited whispers of other kids at school talk about turning 18 and all the perks along with it. You can drink, you can make your own choices because with the exception to your own circumstances you’ve become your own boss. Lexa though, did not feel any different. She didn’t have that sense of anticipation and she certainly didn’t feel any older or wiser. Her birthday actually felt like any other day, and she was perfectly ok with that. The teen groaned and rolled out of bed and got changed into her track clothes. Leaving her bedroom she noticed Indra was not napping on the couch or at the table waiting for her. Instead, there was a note saying she had errands to run. Next to Indra’s note was a letter addressed to her. She opened it, it was an acceptance letter to Youth Work Training.  Happy Birthday! You get to do more studying! Lexa chuckled to herself in a self deprecatory manner. She had imagined if she had said her thought out loud that it would have come across as whiney to whoever would be listening. But the thought was more to do with the coincidence that the letter arrived on her 18th than her not wanting to do it. The brunette wrote her own note in response to Indra’s, letting her know she was going to the track. All she wanted to do was ride with Anya, and spend some time with Costia. She ignored the faint whispering in her mind that she wished she would hear from Clarke. Lexa felt abandoned by the way the blonde left, but she found herself wondering less and less about her. Ms Blake had obviously passed her message to Clarke because there had been no indication of the blondes interference. Which was good. Because either Clarke wanted to be involved in her life directly, or she didn’t. There was no inbetween and Lexa wasn’t going to invest anymore time or energy into someone who had made their choice. Lexa shoved all thoughts of the blonde away as she started pedalling to the track. The sky was overcast with the sun being hidden behind the clouds. There was a nice strong breeze. It really was a perfect day for riding. Nice and cool. When she rode into the carpark of the club, Lexa spotted a few cars that weren’t usually there. Including Indra’s. She pushed her bike towards the bleachers and saw everyone there. Anya, Raven, Costia, Indra and even a couple of the club officials. Ms Blake was not here. There were no decorations, or balloons and no loud music. But a fold out picnic table had been set up and there were a couple of different sorts of food platters with some drinks on one end and on the other there was a small pile of presents. Even if all the social skills Lexa had gained were to suddenly disappear she still would have been able to grasp this was a surprise party for her. Months ago she might have shied away at the attention. But right now she was touched by the fact they had all gotten together and organised this for her. Lexa gave them a wide smile, “Wow, thanks guys.” Costia approached her first with a kiss to the side of her mouth, and asked quietly. “I wasn’t sure you’d like this. I know crowds aren’t your favourite thing.” Lexa’s eyes roamed over each individual in attendance. “You guys aren’t a crowd, You guys are my family and friends.” It was true. Even the officials she liked. After all, she saw them almost every day for hours. Lexa left her girlfriend to go hug Indra and murmured “Thank you.” Her carers response had been to tighten the hug. When they broke free Raven literally bounced on her back from behind and pronounced very, very loudly, “Happy Birthday Commander! You’ve finally hit puberty!” The sound Lexa made was somewhere between an exasperated sigh and a groan of acceptance and she jumped slightly to reposition Raven on her back more comfortably. She had almost forgotten that there was a reason she had mentally nicknamed her Sassy Brunette. Anya had come to her rescue, by taking a firm hold and yanking Raven down with a gruff statement of “The only person you’re hanging off is me.” and then almost as an after thought she turned to Lexa and said “By the way. Happy Birthday” and sauntered away half dragging her girlfriend. The green eyed teen shook her head fondly at the duo. She would never understand how the two of them work. She felt a pair of hands slide around her waist from behind and Costia’s voice whispering in her ear, “You’re thinking of the wrong people.” Lexa tilted her head back so that Costia’s chin rested on her shoulder and hummed in acknowledgement. This was nice. It was more than nice. She was at her favourite place with her favourite people. “I’m thinking of all the right people.” Lexa murmured and half turned to kiss her softly.  Costia blushed prettily, “Let’s eat.” They took a look at the food and one platter in particular baffled her. “What’s this?” It was a platter of buttered bread with sprinkles on each slice. Raven gasped in indignation, “You don’t know what fairy bread is?! You have to eat one now!” But Lexa didn’t want to. It looked sweet and she didn’t like to eat sweet food. Raven it seemed was having none of it though as she picked up a slice and shoved it right in her face. She could even smell the sugar and butter. If it meant getting her personal space back, then Lexa would pay the price of taking a bite of this ‘food’. It was surprisingly good. The amount of butter took away from the sweetness. But she was going to keep that opinion to herself. Raven didn’t need any more reason to become more boisterous. Lexa looked around and she noticed the track was wet. It had been watered down. She continued to observe her surroundings. Anya’s bike was here, and so was Ms Blake’s despite Ms Blakes absence.  She wondered if her forehead had a sign that lit up and showcased her thoughts because Indra explained and gestured to the track, “They’re letting us use the track too. You have to show me how you do that.” What?!? Indra on a BMX bike?! Indra wasn’t in any protective gear, but track policy was long clothes, and Indra was wearing a casual set of jeans and sweater so she was following the rules. Still, Lexa had a hard time wrapping her head around the idea. Indra put on Ms Blakes helmet and attempted to manipulate the straps before Lexa sighed and went over and did it up for her, and put her own helmet on. They walked the bikes to the top of the starting gate and Indra sat on Ms Blakes bike and was about to push off before Lexa grabbed the back of her bike seat, stopping her. Indra was going to give her a heart attack and break her neck. “You can’t sit on the bike when you go down. You have to stand up all the time, on the pedals.” She explained. “And uh, go slowly please.” Indra nodded. Lexa decided she wasn’t going to do a circuit. She wanted to watch Indra first and make sure her carer doesn’t break every bone in her body. She vaguely cataloged this emotion as concern , or worry . Thankfully Indra did not injure herself or even fall over, but she was like one of the kids she coached, awkward, and rode on the track swaying left and right and bounced even rolling over the jumps. But Indra being on a street bike was such a foreign sight that if Lexa hadn’t seen the woman herself before she put on the helmet Lexa would have never believed it was her. When she finished the circuit Lexa followed doing her own. At the finish line Indra was waiting for her with her helmet off and a dry smile. “It’s fun, I don’t think I’ll do that again though.” And all Lexa could do was laugh. Whole heartedly laugh. God she loved this woman. She loved Indra. Not just liked her. She stopped laughing and took her helmet off and said to her quietly. “I love you.” And went over to sit next to Costia before Indra could respond. Lexa didn’t want a response. She just wanted to let Indra know what she meant to her and how much she appreciated her. Costia stood and then settled herself into Lexa’s lap and giggled, “That was quite a sight.” Anya had taken to the track along with Raven. “It was.” Lexa agreed, kissing the back of her neck lightly. Apparently her girlfriend was ticklish because she immediately squirmed and laughed. “You should open your presents.” Now Lexa was anxious, she had wanted to wait to open them so she didn’t have to do it in front of everyone. It was thoughtful enough that they had even remembered her birthday and did all this let alone buy her presents and watch her open them. She supposed it would be rude not to open them if they wanted to see her reaction. “Ok. Soon.” She acquiesced.  When everyone gathered around, she was grateful for the space they gave her. She picked up the first one, and Raven immediately stepped forward and winked, blocking everyone else's view and whispered so quietly Lexa strained to hear her “This will help you celebrate puberty, but it’s a private thing. Open it later.” Lexa swallowed and nodded her head, putting the package to the side. She was hoping it wasn’t what she thought it was. But there was very room for doubt given Raven’s advice for opening it away from other eyes. She picked up a lone envelope that was signed from the Arkadia BMX club, and in it was a $50 gift card to K-Mart. Anya’s present was surprisingly thoughtful in its practicality for her. A pair of wireless high quality, waterproof earbuds. Costia’s present was also practical, even if it were a mutual beneficial gift. A new phone. Costia kissed her and explained, “Your old phone sucks and I want to be able to video call you.” The very last thing on the table was a big envelope, Lexa took it in her hand but didn’t open it. She knew that handwriting. She had seen that handwriting half a dozen times a week. It was from Clarke. She placed it on top of Raven’s present. They sang the traditional happy birthday song and Lexa cut and served all the pieces to everyone and asked the track if they could put the rest of the cake in the fridge to give to the kids after coaching. They helped pack everything away and when Lexa and Indra arrived home Indra gently held her arm, “There’s something I want to talk to you. Can you sit down?” Lexa sat down and waited. It was unusual for Indra to approach her. Her carer  left the room and came back a moment later with a stack of papers in her hand. “I didn’t buy you anything for your birthday, but I did get you something. I was thinking about this for the last few weeks but I want it to be your choice, so I thought I’d give these to you when you had your birthday. You don’t have to give me an answer now.” Indra said vaguely and handed her the papers face down that she had been holding. Her carer stood and kissed her forehead on the way past. Lexa held the papers and picked up Clarke and Raven’s presents going to her room. She opened Raven’s first, and two things were in there, one was a bottle of alcohol Jim Beam Black Lable, and the second thing was, sure enough wasn’t the label on the box ‘Dildo’ in big block capital letters. The teen threw the latter next to her shoes in her wardrobe without even opening the box and looking at the item and put the bottle of Beam on her desk. For some reason Lexa hesitated, she didn’t know which one she wanted to look at first, Indra’s or Clarke’s? She huffed to herself. It wasn’t a big deal which she looked at first. She was going to see them both anyway. She picked up Clarke’s envelope and opened it, carefully sliding the paper inside out. There was no doubt in her mind it was from the blonde. It was an illustration of the scene where Shrek is holding an onion in front of Donkey. But instead of Shrek holding an onion it was a diamond with rays of light coming from it. The drawing was amazing and the colours were blended in really well. It would have taken her hours to do this. At the bottom of the picture was a caption written in calligraphy that said Keep Shining Brightly . It wasn’t signed. Lexa was overwhelmed by the sentimentality of it. She remembered vividly that conversation she had with Clarke. She had felt so out of place and so confused by everyone around her, and Clarke had somehow without even trying made so many of Lexa’s puzzle pieces that was life fall into place. She missed Clarke. Lexa swallowed the lump in her throat, and turned over the stack of papers that were from Indra. She read the title, and was so overwhelmed that she slumped on to her bed staring at the words as tears made their way down her face. ADULT ADOPTION APPLICATION. Clarke was tired. She didn’t want to open her eyes and look at the naked stranger in bed next to her. She internally groaned at her choice of stress relief. Her mother had called her the previous day to ‘check in on her’, which meant finding out how she was doing and then proceeded to let her opinion be known very clearly that she believed that Clarke was inflicting some sort of self punishment for the rest of her life by continuing to pursue and further herself in her chosen career of education.  It wasn’t that Abby was controlling or even insulting with her opinion but Clarke found it difficult to accept her mothers reassertion into her life and this particular form of caring from her mother. Despite the fact they weren’t close, her mother had a way of making her feel as if she were ten years old again being scolded. Doing four units was considered to be a full time study load, but here she was trying to over achieve by doing six and working. She had managed to find casual employment as a bartender in a club, and so she spent a minimum of 10 hours studying a day, 1 hour on her bike as down time and then in between 4 to 6 hours working at night on weeknights depending on their need for her and 7 hours on Friday and Saturday nights. And her current unhappiness was the cost of such ambition. She didn’t want to open her eyes and also see the shoebox that she was currently occupying. Literally it had room for her bed, a medium sized cupboard, and a desk that she studied at. There was also a small island with a sink on one end and a bar fridge on the other, and on the island she had placed a small compact oven, an induction burner on and a coffee machine, since the lack lacked a proper kitchen. At least her bathroom had a shower/bath combo. But the place was extremely cheap, so it would help with her remaining funds. But it was not a place that she was proud to call home. Clarke felt disconnected from the people she cared about. She missed Octavia and Bellamy. She missed the students she had been working with at Arkadia High. She even missed adorable, uncomfortable Lexa. Clarke questioned how the brunette was content to be by herself. Before the T.T.T. Lexa had always been isolated. The thing that had caught Clarke was how she never appeared to be sad or bothered by this. Clarke on the other hand was bothered by this. Video calling her friends on skype, and the once every couple of weeks visit by Octavia was not the same as seeing her friends even briefly multiple times a day.  She missed the closeness with them. She was lonely. This was not where she had wanted to be at this point in her life, and so Clarke had reciprocated a stranger's charming flirtations and took the red headed woman home after work. Jeez, what was she thinking? She hasn’t had a one night stand since Niylah back in college. Even with those critical thoughts Clarke also knew that this would probably not be the last time this would happen. Clarke went into the bathroom to commiserate in her misery under the comforting pitter patter of a hot shower. She got out and bent over to pull the trundle of drawers from under her bed and pulled out some comfort clothes, a singlet and a pair of sweats. She didn’t care about looking good for the stranger who had apparently woken up while she was getting dressed. “Good morning, nice place.” The stranger said not moving from the bed. Clarke smiled at her. She didn’t feel like smiling but that wasn’t this person's fault she woke up in a bad mood. She chuckled, “It’s not that nice, but good morning to you too.” The redhead had a self satisfied grin and agreed, “No it’s not that nice, but you’re much nicer. I think this is the part where I get up and do the walk of shame?” Maybe Clarke had been a little too hasty in her regret about taking this woman home. She was funny, and Clarke appreciated the sober human interaction. “You’re welcome to stay for a coffee, and whatever I have in the fridge. I have some studying to do but if you want to catch up on some sleep you can do that.” “I have a better idea, why don’t I borrow your shower and I’ll go out and get us some breakfast and coffee first?” Her visitor suggested. Clarke couldn’t help but to moan at the thought of a proper coffee and some breakfast that wasn’t cereal. She also felt a pang of guilt to this considerate woman. “Um, I don’t think I got your name last night.” The stranger laughed and winked, “Just to continue to make this as backwards as possible I’ll tell you after breakfast.” The blonde chuckled at her use of observational humour. Yep it would be backwards, sleeping together, then having a meal, and then sharing names. Clarke grinned and said with a wink of her own, “Well I won’t be going anywhere. I live here after all.” The redhead stood apparently not embarrassed to be seen naked in front of someone she didn’t know sober, and picked up her clothes on the way to the shower.  Clarke sat down and opened up her study plan again when she heard the shower running. She was going to go mental if she kept this up and this was only the early stages, and she absolutely detested studying. But some things just gotta be done to end up doing what she loves.  She wondered if there was a way to rearrange her study plan again. She required 150 credits for this course, 40 of those were split between three professional experience units and 110 credits were eleven theory units. Six of which she was doing currently leaving five theory units remaining. She bit her lip. Clarke hadn’t planned on doing her entire schooling externally. If she were going to do that she wouldn’t have moved all the way here to Polis to begin with. She was only going to do her Summer Semester units externally. But if she did, she could shorten her study time down by half. It would also relieve some of the financial pressures. But in hindsight if she hadn’t done this, she probably would have ended up having to move anyway. The rent in Arkadia had not been cheap and she definitely wouldn’t have been able to afford to study there. The rent was like a quarter of the price here. Even if it was a shoebox. She sighed. Doing this would increase her stress load by a hell of a lot though. When Clarke heard the click of her door indicating her guest had left for now, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Decisions, decisions. She was kind of frustrated with herself that she hadn’t thought of this option when she last modified her study plan. If she went through with this it would render her previous modification moot. But again, it would shorten her unhappiness period. She decided to make the decision later when she was in a better frame of mind. Maybe O would be able to talk some sense into her. Bell wouldn’t be any help because as far as he was concerned she never should have left given that he had already voiced his opinion on their previous call. He had said that she had been much happier in Arkadia than she was now, and it wouldn’t be a bad thing to call it quits and come back home and return to teaching primary/highschool students. She had dismissed it, she wanted to work with younger children, and she couldn’t do that without completing this course. Clarke sighed, and she pulled out a book for one of her units relating to approaching young students with cultural differences,  and began reading through the chapter and making notes. She became absorbed in the task that she didn’t hear when her nameless visitor returned until a hand placing a cup of coffee and then a bacon and egg sandwich on her desk appeared in her line of vision. The blonde took a sip of her coffee relishing in the instant effect it had on her. She turned to the woman with a genuine smile, “You are truly a godsend this morning.” The red head gave a playful smirk, while she reached and massaged the nape of Clarke’s neck “I could be even more of a godsend if you’re in the mood.” Clarke let out a low laugh. Apparently the woman was humble too. She winked, and said “How about we eat breakfast first, and you tell me your name.” The woman unwrapped her own bacon and egg sandwich and took a bite and swallowed, “If I did that, it would ruin the fun mystery of this. I haven’t asked for your name.” Either Clarke really liked this person's humour or she was extremely socially deprived because she didn’t press further. She agreed, “Ok, I’ll play your little game. You can call me C.” Maybe a friends with benefits type of thing would make her situation a lot more bearable. “Ok, you can call me K” The person now known as K said.  Clarke knew she had to get some studying done. But she was reluctant to lose the company of K. She raised a brow, “If you let me finish this chapter, there might just be an opportunity to show me just how much you can rise beyond the godsend level.” K grinned wolfishly, and laid back on the bed lazily, “Hurry up then C.” Clarke shook her head chuckling. Despite the redheads' words there was absolutely no indication that K was leaving without another round in the sheets. She turned to finish her chapter while she ate her breakfast, and then joined her redheaded friend. Clarke would not be riding today, but it was a good trade off to feel human and wanted again. This was not going to be like Clarke, Lexa thought to herself for the millionth time. She was uncomfortable. She knew this was coming, but it still didn’t sit well with her. Lexa was laying in bed staring at the ceiling. It would be within the next hour or so that Costia would stop by to say her goodbyes. It’s hard to believe that there’s only a week until the holidays are over. The time just flew by. Lexa was getting pretty darn good at racing, she was comfortable in doing all sorts of tasks around the track, and as a default side effect of Anya taking up the hobby, she and the dark blonde had a close relationship even if it were one of few words. If Lexa had to say she had a best friend, she would name Anya without hesitation.  As for Indra’s inquiry the teen had filled out the application and forced herself to give it to her carer. Her instinct was to leave it on the table for her to find when she woke up. But Lexa thought Indra deserved better than that if she was going to adopt her. She was rewarded with a wide and true smile from Indra. Lexa had a girlfriend to whom she showed open affection to, and Lexa wondered if her belief that she wouldn’t be bothered by lack of physical affection with Costia still applied after spending all summer getting accustomed to showing and receiving it with her. But she cared about Costia and didn’t want to take away the title of their relationship. She wanted to maintain it. She was grateful that Costia wanted the same thing. The brunette considered her reaction to Clarke leaving versus Costia leaving. Both were an important part of her life, and yet for a while Lexa had harboured a pain and resentment to the blondes disappearance. There was neither of those same feelings towards Costia’s. Instead there was a bittersweetness. A mixture of happiness that they would still maintain contact and yet a sadness at the change.  They would be ok. She hoped. Lexa didn’t have a lot of reason to believe in hope, but with these people she did. It was a strange prospect to be excited for something to come. To reunite with Costia when all was said and done, as independent adults who could choose whatever direction they wanted to go in. Excited at the idea of having new experiences. Lexa rolled onto her side so that her back was to the door and closed her eyes. She wasn’t tired but she was still from laying on her back, and having her eyes closed brang a sense of calmness to her. She didn’t know how long she laid there like that. It could have been minutes or it could have been an hour when she felt her bed dip and an arm snake across her accompanied by a light kiss to her shoulder. She breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation. Costia broke the silence, “I know you’re awake.” Lexa hummed in response and opened her eyes, shuffling so she was on her back and Costia was leaning over her. She was enjoying this and didn’t want reality to take this from her just yet. “Hi.” “Hi yourself.” Costia murmured leaning in for a small peck. Lexa couldn’t bring herself to smile. She did try, but it probably came out more as a grimace and Costia giggled saying, “Turn that frown upside down. It won’t be forever. We’ll talk every night on the phone and I’ll come back on every holiday.” Lexa sighed, and stared into Costia’s pretty brown eyes, and immediately became annoyed with herself as lyrics to Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl entered her mind. This was not the time. Instead she sighed again and said quietly, “Change is scary.” “Change is just the beginning.” Costia reassured, as she brushed her thumb across her cheek. There’s a magic to the combination of touch and tone that she had come to appreciate Because Lexa actually believed her girlfriend. She felt a jab of guilt. Logically speaking, Costia should be the one who was afraid. She was the one moving to a different place where she knows no one, and instead it’s Costia who’s comforting her. Costia allowed herself to be rolled onto her back as Lexa reversed them so that she was now on top leaning over the curly haired brunette. She asked softly, “And what about you?” Her girlfriend giggled again. “What about me Lexa?” “How are you doing with the idea of moving away?” She clarified. “I’ll miss you.” Was the answer she received. Lexa didn’t believe Costia was being entirely honest, but she didn’t want to waste what little time they had remaining pursuing whatever the truth could be.  Instead she kissed her. This was different from all the other kisses. Her tongue asked for permission. It was granted and she pressed her body against the woman beneath her more firmly and rocked slowly and gently. There was a desperation that she needed to express, and her breaths came out in short puffs. She pulled herself back and looked at Costia, her eyes were black and her skin was flushed. No. Lexa knew this wasn’t Costia blushing. This was Costia aroused. Lexa acknowledged the coil in her own lower body. So this was the feeling of arousal. But her analysis made her come back to reality. Lexa wasn’t ready for this to be taken further yet. She continued to look into Costia’s eyes, hoping that she understood what she couldn’t say. Her girlfriend smiled, and Lexa detected no traces of frustration in it. Costia gently pulled her so that they were laying next to each other. Still, Lexa felt the need to apologise. “I’m sorry.” “Shh. It will happen when it happens. I’ll take care of it later.” Costia said, and nuzzled her face into Lexa’s shoulder.  It took a moment for Lexa to realise what she meant, and now she was flushed bright red at the admission. Not that she didn’t know everyone had some private time that way. She just wasn’t one of those people yet, and so she found the idea of it embarrassing. That’s not to say after Raven’s present, which still lay where she tossed it next to her shoes in her wardrobe, that she wasn’t curious. But she just simply wasn’t ready whether it be by herself or with someone else. “How long until your mum picks you up?” Lexa asked, she didn’t know why she had to know. Thinking about it, it seemed like it was self inflicted anxiety. If she got an answer she’d be looking at the clock every few minutes watching it count down like some sort of bomb timer. The knowledge would provide a sense of safety in just knowing though, despite how little sense that made. “I don’t know, she said before noon though.” Costia answered. Immediately just like she knew would happen, Lexa’s eyes darted to her clock. 10:45am. Then back to her girlfriend, and said “I think Emergency Services would suit you. You’re kind and compassionate. I bet you’d see all sorts of places in a field like that.” It was true, she truly believed that. Lexa didn’t think Costia had a mean bone in her body, and obviously she had the patience of a saint to be able to care for her, with all of her flaws. Lexa was proud of the path she had chosen. To assist people in emergency crisis situations. Costia spun the conversation around, “And what about you and Youth Work? With your own upbringing it will be so easy to be able to relate to the needs of a lot of the youth.” Lexa grinned and kissed Costia again murmuring, “We’re talking about you, not me.” Whatever Costia was about to say was cut off by the sound of a car horn out the front. Costia groaned, “That would be my mum.” “‘Tis too soon.” Lexa half whined. Her girlfriend nodded in agreement but sat up anyway. “Come on, before she starts a drum beat with that.” “Would your mum really do that?” Lexa couldn’t help but ask. “There’s not a lot my mum wouldn’t do.” Costia stated with exasperation as another blast of the car horn was heard, and she pulled Lexa out of bed. Lexa walked her outside and hugged her, “Take care of yourself please?” Costia giggled again, and pressed her lips to hers. “Just for you. Take care of Raven. Don’t let her get into too much trouble.” “I’ll see what I can do. This is Raven we’re talking about. Call me when you get there?” Lexa asked. Costia got into the car, “I’ll call you tonight after I’ve unpacked.” She watched the car until it drove out of sight. It was strange. She didn’t feel abandoned. She felt at peace with the events of the day. Lexa went back inside. Indra was already waiting for her. “Do you want to watch a movie? Or do you need anything?” Indra asked. Lexa shook her head, it was true. She didn’t need anything. But Indra’s company was always good for comfort of presence. “What are we watching?” “Whatever is on.” Was the simple answer. It was an answer that was typical Indra too. Lexa had to chuckle. She didn’t really believe that Indra actually watched TV for as often as she turned it on, as much as Indra just zoned out with the TV on. It would make sense since she always mutes the sound. Regardless, Lexa sat next to Indra half leaning on her. Watching the visuals to some show, that the info section called Farscape.  Next week Lexa’s own studies would begin. Apparently Youth Work was not a very popular job path. There were only seven or eight others in her ‘class’. Lexa’s lecturer was more of a group discussion type of teacher. Thankfully for her she was over her anxiety of public speaking in small groups. But the attention of strangers was still fairly uncomfortable.  They were currently working on two different unit modules simultaneously, since they were so closely interconnected with one another. One addressed the problems that young people (and by young people they reference people between the age of eight and eighteen) and how to best assist them depending on what type of youth worker she became. The second module hit a bit too close to home for Lexa’s preference. It discussed rapport building, confidentiality and your boundaries as a Youth Worker in relation to the vulnerability of your clients, and your ultimate responsibility for the welfare of your clients so that you were able to find out what the young person needed. Memories of Clarke and her frustrations with her boundaries flooded her mind. Granted Lexa had been a lot more passive back then, but she knew the blondes behavioural patterns. There had been a stark difference between Teacher Clarke and BMX Clarke. But the one thing they both had incommon was that they were completely impersonal despite their friendly and inviting demeanors. Lexa knew nothing about Clarke at all other than that her hobby was BMX racing and her best friends were the Blake teachers. Lexa had resented it because she had been true in who she was to the blonde. Even if it was because she lacked the basics of social etiquette, there had been no hiding anything; and Lexa was positive that Clarke hadn’t missed a thing, and yet she had been so appreciative of Clarke at the same time. And now naturally, as karma would dictate, the job path that Lexa chose would mean in the future she would be in Clarke’s position of having to build a trusting relationship, and yet be forced by ethics and professionalism to prevent the relationship from becoming personal. Strictly speaking Lexa couldn’t understand how trusting someone wasn’t a personal thing.  In her opinion there wasn’t anything more personal than trust. The second thing that the second module mentioned that baffled Lexa was that Youth Workers are not allowed to say that ‘I understand’ to their client when their client is sharing personal details. Lexa believed that there was nothing more than what young people wanted than understanding, compassion and dignity even if they didn’t know how to give it themselves. Yet, this module would try and teach her that in blunt terms the act of saying she understood would be considered patronising since every person is different, and reacts differently to things. That their inner thoughts and feelings would be uniquely different to someone else experiencing the same event. So in a very literal sense, yes the module is right. But Lexa also knew from personal experience only a few people worked in a very literal way. Lexa was having an extremely difficult time accepting personally the policies of this line of work. But the thought of young people not as lucky as she had been, made her push through. There were so many young people out there that didn’t have their Indra’s, or Clarke’s or Costia’s, and Lexa wanted to make a difference for them. They didn’t have to be struggling alone if she could help it. It was thanks to these two units that early one morning she now sat in her bed staring at her phone with Clarke’s number on the screen biting her lip. Now that she knows it wasn’t particularly by choice in Clarke’s part, Lexa felt the need to apologise for being angry and rude to her. She still wasn’t happy with the events. But she now understood in more depth the situation from the blondes perspective. She thought about just sending a text. But then scoffed at herself. An apology was a personal thing. It meant something, and typed words lacked a type of connection that she wanted to achieve. Lexa pressed the call button. It rang a few times before it answered.  The person who answered was definitely not Clarke as she said, “Good morning! C’s phone.” Lexa swallowed, “Is Clarke there?” She heard a chuckle, and some rustling sounds by the same woman saying, “So your name’s Clarke? Wake up. There’s a girl on the phone, someone I should know?” It occurred to Lexa that she may have called at the wrong time. And what was with having a visitor who didn’t know your name?  She recalled the blonde's admission to her own sexuality after Niylah had served them at the pizza place. Oh. This was that kind of visitor. There were more muffled noises and Lexa finally heard Clarke’s voice. It was raspy and hoarse. “Hello?” She scratched her knee. “Clarke?” “Green-Eyes! What do I owe for the pleasure?” Clarke said, Lexa could even visualise the way she said it with her wide smile and twinkling eyes. Her voice though was still hoarse and tense. Lexa found herself wanting to fidget the same way she used to when Clarke spoke to her like this. She refrained. She wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just a behavioural habit. She took a breath, “I started studying to become a Youth Worker.” “That’s great! Good for you, wanting to help people” Clarke praised her. Lexa ignored the praise, and continued on with her reason for calling. “We were learning about rapport building and trust… and ethical and professional boundaries…” Clarke made a sound of acknowledgement that Lexa didn’t know how to interpret. A prompt to continue? “I’m sorry for being angry at you, and I'm sorry if I upset you by the way I behaved.” Lexa said. Clarke chuckled. “Oh Green-Eyes. What are we going to do with you? Thank you for the apology. I’ll tell you a secret though?” “What?” She asked dumbly. “You were already forgiven the second it happened. What you were feeling was natural and understandable. But I appreciate the maturity and that you were able to look beyond yourself and apologise. That shows how much you’ve grown.” The blonde said gently. Lexa didn’t want acknowledgement for doing the right thing. She did it simply because she believed it was the right thing to do. She decided the other right thing to do was to acknowledge something else. “Thank you for my birthday present. I put it in a frame on my wall.” “Anytime Lexa.” Clarke said.  It sounded like she meant it. Now that she apologised and thanked Clarke she didn’t know what to say. Did those ethical boundaries still apply if the blonde wasn’t her teacher anymore? She decided not to push her luck. Besides she didn’t have much time left. Indra was going to be knocking on her door soon. “I should go. Indra’s taking me for a driving lesson before she goes to bed.” The blonde chuckled again, and teasingly said. “Green-Eyes behind the wheel hey? Remember that it’s not fifty points for every person you hit.” Lexa rolled her eyes and huffed. “Goodbye Clarke!” And she heard Clarke’s laughter as she hung up. Someone once said change was inevitable. Whoever said that obviously has never met Clarke Griffin because that woman just doesn’t change. Ever. She put on her shoes and then sent a message to Costia wishing her well in her day and that she missed her. Indra was finishing up her cup of tea. “Ready to go?” Lexa nodded. Her driving lesson was hard. She was trying to concentrate, and focus on the different things she should be doing. Driving is not methodical like racing or building a bike. She was going through the motions of all the things she should be doing, but it was clunky, and she couldn’t seem to transition from one task to another smoothly. At some point in the middle of the lesson, Indra for whatever death wish the woman had, stopped giving instructions and started asking questions about how she was. “How are you finding your new studies?” Her carer had asked. Lexa answered tersely as she shifted gears jerking the car, “It was fine.” “Just fine? I heard you talking to Clarke through the door this morning. It’s been a while since the two of you talked.” Indra said. Lexa, pulled up to a stop light. “It was ok. I just apologised and thanked her.” “Why did you thank her?” Indra enquired. The teen sighed in irritation. Why of all times did Indra want to talk now?! Lexa’s anxiety levels were beginning to rise. The light turned green, and Lexa moved the car forward. “I thanked her for the present.” Indra looked ahead. “What did she say?” Lexa approached a car park and pulled in parking the car and more loudly than she intended growled, “I can’t drive like this. I can’t think!” Her carer looked at her patiently for a moment before replying. “Lexa, ever since we started talking you have been driving perfectly. You were overthinking everything until I distracted you. Get out and look how well you parked.” Lexa did as Indra asked and got out of the car inspecting her parking; and sure enough, just like Indra had said the car was parked good. The car was parallel to the lines, and she hadn’t parked too close or too far from front or back. She got back into the driver's seat buckling her belt and leaning her head on the top of the steering wheel. Indra was either suicidal or a genius. Probably both with that tactic, even if it did work. “Take a moment and go when you’re ready.” Indra suggested. Lexa recognised she was feeling petty in her lack of response to her. But she was ok with that. Once her heartbeat was back to normal she started the car and pulled out. She took them home smoothly, and stewed the entire time as she did so. When they arrived home and exited the car, Indra took her spot on the couch and called for Lexa to join her. Which she did of course, sitting next to her.  Indra said. “I’ve said this before Lexa. You’re very smart, and you have so much going on in your head. You just need to decide what to do with all that information. Sometimes pushing the small things away, helps you organise what you need to do. Right now your biggest enemy is yourself. Because you question everything. When really you just need to trust yourself more.” It had been similar to Clarke’s mantra of “Trust your instincts your body knows what it’s doing.” when she had been coaching her on the track. Her earlier thought replayed itself in her head. Trust was such a personal thing. Lexa trusted Indra. She even trusted Costia a lot. But she wasn’t entirely sure that she trusted herself. Lexa had not given herself a lot of reasons to do so. That was mean. What she means is that she’s never had reason to trust herself. Not that she’s ever really disappointed herself to be able to break any such trust. Is the lack of trust in oneself the same as having no self esteem? Doesn’t reasoning factor into it? She pushed her train of thought aside and leaned to hug Indra, “Thank you.” Indra smiled at her, and Lexa went into her room to work on her module some more and kept glancing at her phone to see if Costia had replied. She already missed seeing her smile. They’ve been talking about every second night for about an hour. It wasn’t the same. But she was grateful. Costia was doing well so far, and she got along with her roommate. She had even joined the student volunteer body. Lexa was happy for her even if she did miss her. It was only a couple of months until the break between term 1 and term 2. They would see eachother then. “Um, It doesn’t feel right not telling Indra.” Lexa hesitated.  Raven rolled her eyes, “Don’t be a chicken shit. We’re 18! There’s no reason we can’t exploit that! Go get dressed into your nice clothes and we go have some fun!” She began to regret her enthusiasm about ‘new experiences’, because now according to Sassy Brunette new experiences now included going to a club on a Friday night for the first time. That also meant not informing Indra apparently, who had already left for work. She wasn’t opposed to going out and seeing what it was like. But she did believe that since she still lived under Indra’s roof she should let her know. Lexa decided to meet Raven half way. “Ok then. Get out so I can get changed then.” Anya and Raven left, and the moment the door was shut Lexa took out her phone texting Indra letting her know. Then searched her wardrobe for anything that might be suitable for clubbing. She already knew that she had nothing of the sort. Lexa preferred loose practical comfort clothing. She eventually decided on a pair of jeans, with a shirt and an unbuttoned flannel over the top, and when she left her room. Anya rolled her eyes and arched a brow to Raven.  Raven on the other hand facepalmed. “Ok, ok. We get it you’re a stereotype raging lesbian.” Anya shook her head, “Guess we’re going to your place first?” “Yep. There’s no way we’re going to the club with her looking like that.” Raven announced. Lexa didn’t see what the big deal was. Raven was dressed up though. Her signature red jacket had been abandoned for a somewhat stylish white low cut shirt and skinny jeans. Anya however was not dressed up in any way. Lexa suspected that Raven had already lost that battle. She had never been to Raven’s place before. They had always just met up at Anya’s. To say that it was trashy would be saying something. Because Lexa had lived in trashy before and those places had nothing on this. There were fast food containers all over the place along with empty beer bottles.  Raven ushered them quickly into what was obviously her bedroom. Which was the polar opposite of the rest of the house. It was immaculate. Lexa was tempted to swipe a finger on her desk to see if there were any dust particles  in the room. The sassy teen must have noticed her observing her room because for the first time Raven sounded self conscious, and unsure of herself as she explained while she gestured to the door, “I live in here. My mum lives out there.” Lexa quirked her lip to try and put her friend at ease and quipped, “Oh, I couldn’t tell the difference.” She winced. It had sounded better in her head. She sighed, sass was still something she was experimenting with. “Sorry, that was bad.” Regardless of her terrible wit, it had seemed to do the trick, because Raven smirked at her and said, “That was bad. But just listening to you try was worth it!” Anya had a smirk of her own on and she snorted and nodded her head. Lexa rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, causing Raven to laugh at her. Lexa really didn’t care if they had fun at her expense. To be honest she preferred this kind of humour. At least she understood it. “Hurry up and find her something to wear.” Anya grouched to her girlfriend. So it was twenty minutes later that Lexa found herself in a pair of sandals, dark blue tight fitting jeans and a sleeveless button up white top with Raven undoing her normal ponytail and mussing up her hair to one side of her shoulder. Lexa looked at herself in the mirror and almost didn’t recognise herself. She didn’t look, she dare say sexy like Raven did. But these clothes in combination with her hairdo made her look confident and pretty. She also felt confident and pretty. She snorted. Pretty seemed like such a kid's word. Beautiful? Would it be considered vain to think this is the most beautiful she’s ever looked before? Her phone dinged, and she checked it. Two messages. One from Indra telling her to be home by midnight, and one from Costia who said that she missed her but wouldn’t be able to call tomorrow. She sighed. But what could she do about it? The answer was nothing. Raven’s voice broke through her thoughts. “So whatcha think babe? Is she sexy or what?” Lexa blushed and shifted from foot to foot. “None of that. Wear it.” Anya growled. Before she could ask the question Raven explained, “She means don’t be shy. Now let’s call that uber and get outta here!” The club in question was already full of people. Lexa didn’t like this. No matter where you went in the club there were people everywhere. Her eyes darted around and found that the least occupied area was where the pool tables were. She had played pool a couple of times. One of her short term foster homes had a table. She had been young. But she remembered spending so much time playing it, her carer had often left her alone unless it was time for dinner, shower or bed. She gestured to the tables. But Raven shook her head. “No way, we’re getting drinks first. What do ya want?” Drinks? She’s so stupid. It hadn’t occurred to Lexa that they were going to a club and therefore they were going to be drinking. Seems obvious now that her exuberant friend made the proclamation. “Um whatever you’re having I guess.” She answered. She still hasn’t even touched the bottle Raven gave her for her birthday. She didn’t know how to drink it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, so she just left it there. Raven made her way with confidence to the bar and Anya had gratefully stayed by her side.  “It’s noisy here.” Anya grunted. She nodded her head in agreement, and replied. “Too noisy.” Lexa watched the crowd of dancers. She had never considered dancing to be erotic. Even when she watched scenes like this in movies, the people lacked the sheen caused by the sweat and the complete feel of the atmosphere of everyone just wanting to have a good time whether that be by dancing, or the intimacy of the dancing. There was definitely a lack of personal space in this place. Raven returned balancing their three drinks, and chugged hers. Lexa didn’t know whether she should be worried that her friend was comfortable doing it or impressed. Especially since when she had a mouthful of her own she couldn’t help but wince at the harshness in her throat. Anya, like her girlfriend, had no issues downing hers either. “We should dance!” Raven suggested way too excitedly for her comfort. Anya apparently agreed because without batting a lash she quipped and shoved Lexa towards the pool tables. “No way. We’re going to the tables.” Now playing pool was something Lexa knew how to do, and enjoyed. It was a game of technique, strategy and geometry. She racked the table up and Anya took the honours in breaking. It seemed that Raven’s goal was to get them all shitfaced because she and Anya had not noticed that the sassy brunette had left until she returned with a platter holding three more drinks mixed with coke and a pitcher of beer. And she had just kept the drinks coming. It was a strange thing to pass the time by drinking and playing pool. Because Lexa ended up having to call it quits against Anya. She couldn’t see straight and she swear the world was swaying. She needed to sit down. Her blonde friend also seemed a bit out of sorts because when Raven pulled on her to turn her around, Anya didn’t turn away, but instead held her hips pulling her closer and they swayed to the rhythm of the music. Lexa was almost scared when Anya smiled openly. “I bet you ten bucks those two end up in bed tonight.” A feminine voice drawled, and she twisted to see who it was. A light haired brunette she didn’t know. What did she want? She’d find out soon enough she guessed. Lexa looked back to her friends, and politely replied. “I wouldn’t take that bet. They’re together.” Words were difficult to form. But she didn’t bother trying to try and repeat herself. “Mmm. They look good together too.” The stranger said. Lexa glanced at her. The stranger wasn’t looking at her friends. She was looking at her. She didn’t know what to do or to say to that. So she smiled instead. Her new friend lowered her voice and had a type of grin that she’d only seen Raven use on Anya. “I bet ten bucks we’d look good dancing together too.” She decided to decline with honesty to the person. She assumed if the stranger understood why she was uncomfortable with the idea of dancing, that she’d accept it and leave her alone. “I don’t know how to dance. I’ve never danced before.” In fact, the opposite happened and the light haired brunette stood and pulled on her arm promising. “I’ll show you. It’ll be fun.” Lexa turned and finished her beer and allowed herself to be pulled up. She didn’t think it would be fun. Especially since her body felt heavy, and there was a loud buzz in her head that was distracting. Rather than dancing facing each other like Anya and Raven were doing, her dance partner pressed her front into Lexa’s back and rested her hand on her hips, guiding her movements to the beat of the song. “Just relax. You’re too tense. Move your body to the flow.” The stranger husked into her ear. Lexa had the vague thought that telling someone who was tense and uncomfortable to relax was something like telling an angry person to calm down. Because when she tried to relax, she ended up becoming more tense in her focus to follow the instructions. She felt one of her partners' arms wrap around her front and the hand resting on the flat of her stomach in an attempt to ease and guide her movements more smoothly. Lexa wasn’t sure she liked this. This sort of intimate proximity made her uncomfortable. Especially with someone she didn’t know. She stopped, and turned around facing the light haired brunette. “Thank you for trying but I’m just going to sit down. I don’t feel well.” Her dance partner didn’t look happy. “Come on. Weren’t you having fun?” Lexa shook her head and the woman hissed. “Well fuck you too.” and stormed off. What the hell? Raven’s laughter rang out next to her.  “What?” Lexa asked. Apparently this was an even more funny thing to ask, because then Raven leaned against Anya laughing harder. For her part, Anya just rolled her eyes and drawled, “For someone so smart you can be so stupid.” When Raven was able to speak through her laughter she managed to get out, “Lexa, she wanted to kissssss you, and huuuug you and fuuuuck you.” She could feel herself flush bright red, and she said her first curse word. “Shut the fuck up.” Now Anya was laughing. Lexa sighed, she wasn’t upset at them, she just couldn’t understand what was so funny. She also hadn’t lied when she said she wasn’t feeling well, because now she knew she was sweating heavily and she felt very dizzy and a little nauseous.  “I need to go. I feel sick.” She said. The two looked at each other and Anya finally said. “Let’s get you home.” When the uber dropped Lexa off she stumbled through the front door and used the wall with her hand as a guide to steady herself. She needed to get to the bathroom. She didn’t know if she needed to pee or puke. It felt like both. A hand took a hold of her arm firmly and another wrapped around her waist. With the assistance she was able to walk straight.  She felt like that was not something she should be proud of. She looked at the person helping her.  She slurred. “Indra.” Why couldn’t she say the name properly?  Indra lifted the toilet seat up, and guided her to the floor and instructed. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She didn’t think she could move, and suddenly she knew it was coming, she lifted her head over the toilet and vomited into it, and a hand pulled her hair back.  She looked up at Indra. Unreasonably she felt overwhelming affection for her. She had to tell her. “I love you. You’re the first person I loved. If I had a mum she’d be like you.” Indra chuckled and handed her a glass of water. “I’m your mum, whether I gave birth to you or not. Now sip this water slowly.” She did as she was told, her head was hazy and she found it difficult to think about what was said. But she was sure she agreed with the warm tone Indra had used. “You are.” She threw up again. She was never drinking again ever. Why did people inflict this upon themselves? Lexa wasn’t sure how long her or Indra stayed in the bathroom but eventually Indra guided Lexa up and filled her cup up. “Rinse your mouth out.” Lexa obeyed. She wasn’t quite sure how she got to bed, because her memory the next morning was patchy and fractured, and when she went to meet Indra at the table with the worst headache in her life, she groaned out loud.  Indra greeted her with the most ironic question. “Did you have an experience last night?” Lexa was annoyed with her circumstances right now. Today she started her job placement for experience. Today was also the day Costia came back for a week. She had wanted to be fully available for the day her girlfriend returned. Lately they’ve often been missing each other's video calls. Either Costia has been engaged with her extracurricular activities or Lexa has between BMX, her homework, coaching the kids or out with Raven and Anya. What started off as every second night has now managed to be reduced to one night a week. Usually Sunday nights. Instead she’s bent down in front of a Youth Recreational Centre, tying her shoe laces to delay entering the shack. Literally that’s what it appeared to be from the outside. A huge tin shack with roller doors rolled open, with a metal grill in front of them to allow fresh air and a double door held open by some bricks for the entrance. It did not look impressive for a place that was supposed to support youth. She stood up and forced herself to walk inside. There was a small office to her immediate left, and a room directly ahead. To her right there were a couple of pool tables, and behind those pool tables were a couple of couches, and a TV, a bunch of kids appeared to be playing some sort of console game and at the far back of the tin shack was a basketball court. A tall bald man approached her. He didn’t look friendly. Well he didn’t look unfriendly, he just seemed tense. “Good afternoon. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Welcome, please sign in on the sheet over on the table.” Great. He thought she was one of the kids coming to spend time here. Lexa straightened up and looked him directly in the eyes and in a firm voice said, “I’m Lexa Woods, I’m here for my work experience placement.” “My name’s Titus.” Said the man, he stepped into the office to her left, and she followed. “Please change into this uniform. We call this place The Shak.” It was a fitting name for a huge tin shed. Titus continued, “The Shack provides a safe place for youth to hang out and make friends. Any persons between the age of seven and eighteen are allowed to be here. As youth workers here our role is to really just hang out with them and provide supervision. Build relationships with them and know where to refer them for assistance if they should need some help. Primarily just engage with them.” So basically Lexa was here to play with kids and be the responsible grown up. It didn’t sound so bad. But it was a bit awkward if the eldest youths were her own age. No. That’s wrong. That wouldn’t be awkward. She could use that to her advantage. She wouldn’t appear to be an authority figure of sorts and given that she was their age, it might actually be less conscious work to go out of her way to have to earn their trust. She might not have to act. She could probably just be herself right? She hoped so.  Lexa nodded to Titus. “So play and talk with them. Keep an eye out for safety issues or if any of the youth seem out of sorts.” She was impressed. She sounded a lot more confident than she felt. Titus nodded with a small smile, “Yes. The bathrooms are out the back, you can change there.” Recognising her dismissal, Lexa went to locate the bathrooms and changed into the shirt she had been given. She entered The Shack again and peered at all the youth.  Most of them were already in groups doing different activities. There were a group of about a dozen people playing four square. There were another dozen playing video games, a couple of younger girls doing some drawing at a small table in front of the pool tables directly to her right, and there were three people playing pool. Well two kids playing pool, and a young boy holding a cue watching the other two play. She made her decision, and approached the boy holding the cue, “Hi, my name’s Lexa. Whatcha doing?”  “Everyone calls me Smiley. I wanted to play, but they’re already playing. Are you new?” Smiley asked. Lexa smiled, she could see why his nickname was Smiley. His huge smile hasn’t so much as twitched on his face. “Yeah, I’m new. I’ll be here for a few months. Would you like to play a game with me? Everyone else is already doing something and you look like you’re a good player.” She said gesturing to the unoccupied pool table. Smiley nodded, and she began to rack the table when he started talking, “I’m eight. So I’m not good, but Titus says practice makes perfect! So I want to have lots of practice!” She placed the white ball on the semi circle and genuinely grinned at him. She loved his enthusiasm and his openness. “I’m sure you’re better than you think Smiley. If you’ve been practicing you can only get better.” Lexa was actually impressed with him, for his age and small size he played very well. He naturally wasn’t as good as she was, and she found herself intentionally missing shots because she didn’t want to lower his motivation or confidence in himself. She balls to match his, to make it appear to be an even game, and when he potted the eight ball Smiley had puffed out his chest in pride and his already big smile got impossibly bigger. She found his attitude contagious and she grinned along with him if Lexa had her way she’d spend all her time with him. She vaguely reasoned out that what she was feeling must be endearment . Lexa knelt down in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “See? I knew you could do it. That was a great game. I can’t believe you beat me! Congratulations!” “I’m going to tell Titus I beat you!” Smiley said, running off. She laughed at him and turned to the younger girls who were drawing. “Hey, those look really good!” The black haired girl glanced up and smiled at her before returning to her drawing, but the strawberry blonde said, “Thanks! Drawing’s my favourite.” So she spent her hours changing from group to group joining in with the activities the kids were doing and getting to know them. She never asked anything personal about them, not that she needed to, all the kids were more than happy to volunteer information about themselves of their own accord. She considered herself lucky to have gotten a placement that she genuinely enjoyed. Lexa was also grateful for her BMX hobby because she was certain as she walked out of the place that she would have been exhausted otherwise. She rode her bike over to Costia’s. She was eager and excited to see her girlfriend. When Lexa arrived, Costia flung the door open, giving her a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek then looked her up and down before saying, “Wow, I’m so glad you came! But did you just come here from your placement? If you’ve been working all day we could have seen each other tomorrow. “ “No, you’re only here for a week, and I’ve missed you. There was no way I wasn’t coming by to see you today.” Lexa murmured with a small peck on her lips. Her girlfriend looked good. Tired maybe but good, and a little bit different. Her outfit was not as reserved as usual, and there was a happy excitement to her. Lexa was happy for her.  Costia placed her hand on the side of her face, and Lexa leaned into it. She’s missed her touch and her proximity. Costia smiled softly, “Well i’m glad you came. It’s so good to be with you again. Mum’s just finishing up dinner so come eat with us.” Lexa had never sat at the dinner table with such tension in the atmosphere. Costia’s mum had been grilling Costia with question after question and Lexa could see the anger building up in her girlfriend. She had been asked everything from her classes, her professors, who her new friends were if she made any and what each of them did in their spare time. Costia’s answers were fairly informative for Lexa since she hadn’t shared any of this information on their calls. She had made some friends with a group of two young women and a young man named Echo, Ontari and Roan. Ontari was her roommate. They usually met up together on Friday and Saturday nights for dinner somewhere.  She was concerned at the growing irritation in Costia. It wasn’t like her girlfriend to be moody even if her mum was being a bit nosey. Lexa didn’t think her mum was being unreasonable. She didn’t know how often the two of them talked, but she imagined if she were a mother she’d want to know what her daughter or son is up to. She also didn’t think that Costia was particularly wrong either in what she assumed was her girlfriend feeling interrogated and smothered. Lexa kept her opinion to herself. Anything she could have input would only make it seem like she was taking sides and validating one of their viewpoints. It wasn’t for her two get involved in. This was between Costia and her mother.  When Costia had finished her meal she had stormed off to her bedroom and Lexa winced as the door slammed shut. “It’s hard to let go when your baby is almost all grown up.” Costia’s mum murmured sadly looking in the direction her daughter had gone.  Lexa began to clear the table and decided on an empathetic response, “Maybe she’ll understand if she has her own kids one day.” The mother didn’t reply. She seemed lost in her own thoughts. So Lexa opted to do the dishes for them. Give them both time and space to process whatever was going on in their heads. When she had finished she knocked lightly on Costia’s door and called “It’s me.” “Come in.” Was the muffled reply. Costia was laying on her side in her bed with a hard expression and Lexa sat next to her stroking her hair, eventually her girlfriend sat up and leaned against her. “I’m sorry for that. That must have been so awkward.” Lexa shrugged, and said, “It happens. I’m sorry you came home to feel like this.” She did understand both viewpoints but it was equally true that she didn’t want Costia upset in any way. “Come outside with me.” “Where are we going?” The curly haired brunette asked. “Just out in the yard. The stars are out.” She said quietly. Costia rose to her feet, and arched a brow, and asked “The stars are out?” “Yes, the stars are out.” Lexa reiterated and stood, leading them out of the house to where she knew the old trampoline was. She climbed on it and laid on her back. Costia joined her lying on one of her arms and resting her head against her shoulder. Lexa curled her arm around her girlfriend. “It’s peaceful out here. I like watching the stars twinkle.” Costia curled her body into her and said, “You’re so much deeper than you let people know.” Lexa said nothing, keeping her eyes on the stars. Eventually she felt Costia relax and she looked down at her. She was asleep. Last time she fell asleep on her Lexa had left. She did not leave this time and she eventually fell asleep too holding onto her Raven, Anya and Lexa were all at the track, having a break on the bleachers. Raven had been chattering away about… Well, something. Lexa hadn’t been paying attention. Her mind was on the events of later tonight. Saturday night meant race night. However, she decided she was going to skip it this week. Costia goes back tomorrow and for the week that the curly haired brunette has been back.. Well, to put it nicely it hasn’t felt as if she’s really here. Lexa was unsettled by this feeling. Costia was still sweet with her. They cuddled and they talked. But there was something in her girlfriends behaviour that gave her the impression that even though Costia was here physically. She wasn’t truly here. Maybe it was that Lexa had never truly had to share Costia before outside of Raven and Anya. She was beginning to get annoyed by Costia’s constant checking of her phone, and the way that her girlfriend always seemed distracted. Maybe Costia just hadn’t had enough time to readjust to being back home? Lexa realised she was feeling hurt . It wasn’t the same as the same sense of sudden loss when Clarke left, or the extreme desperate disappointment when Indra said they couldn’t afford for her to race. No, this was an ache that was constantly just there. So just like when Costia was feeling out of sorts, Lexa decided to do something about it. She knew what the problem was. She had expected more from Costia during her brief return home. She had expected their connection to each other to be reinforced. Costia was leaving tomorrow. So tonight was Lexa’s last chance for a couple of more months to try and reestablish that face to face. So Lexa decided to take her out on a date. There was only one problem. She’s never been out on a date before, and she doesn’t have any money to actually take Costia out anywhere. Something hit her head, snapping her out of her thoughts, and Lexa blinked glancing around. It was a crumpled up wad of paper that now laid at her feet. She looked to her friends and noticed both of them staring at her. Raven broke the silence, “Hey commander, you ok? You’re pretty quiet, and that’s saying something even for you.” Lexa bit her lip, sharing things with Raven was always a 50/50 risk. There was a 50% chance she’d take you seriously and a 50% chance that she’d make fun of you. She would have much rathered to speak to Anya.  She gave a side look to Anya. Perhaps not Anya, Lexa couldn’t see her consistently scowling friend being a romantic. She guessed that left her with no choice. “I want to take Costia out on a date tonight. A real date. She’s been distant.” Lexa explained. To her relief Raven nodded seriously and agreed, “I noticed the same thing.” Anya’s scowl just deepened. Lexa didn’t really feel that it was appropriate to talk too much about Costia behind her back so she continued on about the date itself. “I don’t have any money, and I don’t know what to do. It was kind of a spontaneous decision.” “Does she at least know she’s going on a date?” Raven asked with a brow raised. She shook her head. “I wanted to surprise her.” “You might want to give her a heads up.” Anya suggested. Raven nodded in agreement, “At least let her know not to make any plans tonight or whatever. So no money huh? There’s still a few things you can do. Costia’s all sorts of sentimental, so there doesn’t need to be any expense.” Lexa stared dumbly at her friend. What does sentimentality have to do with organising a date? Her brunette friend sighed and looked at Anya, “She’s clueless I tell you.” Anya rolled her eyes and translated Raven’s speech for her. “She means you could recreate special moments that the two of you had. Integrate some interests you both share or something. Have a picnic, pick some flowers for her. Fuck, I don’t know.” Lexa turned her stare to Anya. This time her stare was one of amazement. Her friend's idea was actually really clever. She stood up with ideas running through her head and she said, “I gotta go. And uh, thanks!” When she got home she shot a text to Costia literally just saying. “Please don’t make plans tonight. I want to see you please?.” and proceeded to prepare for the occasion.  She left the house on her mountain bike. It was probably the first time she’s used it since she had built her BMX bike. She had some things in a backpack on her bike, and a throw rug in a plastic bag hanging off one of her handlebars. Costia’s mum seemed surprised to see her. Obviously her girlfriend didn’t inform her mother that she was coming over. Lexa shifted on her feet and informed her that she was here to pick up Costia.. She knew that Costia’s mum liked her, and knew that she was dating her daughter. But officially announcing she was taking Costia on a date made it a bit nerve wracking. Costia came out to greet her with a hug that Lexa pressed into. She got on her bike causing her girlfriend to frown. Lexa gestured with her head to her handlebars. “Get on.” “You’re kidding.” Costia asked, raising a brow. Lexa smiled, “I’m serious, sit on the handlebars and lean against my shoulder. I’ll dinky you.” “How do I get on?” Her girlfriend asked dubiously. Lexa continued to smile and explained patiently, “I’ll hold the brakes and the handlebars steady. You just climb on the front wheel and turn to sit on the handlebars. Lean back against my shoulders so I can see where I’m going.” Costia followed her directions and Lexa could feel how tense she was. She kicked off and started to pedal. It was nice having her leaned up against her. Lexa enjoyed the smell and feel of her. She relished the proximity and that for at least this moment Costia was hers. Costia was unable to pull out her phone to text or whatever else she did on the device. She had specifically chosen sunset to pick up her girlfriend and she rode down the bicycle path along the foreshore of a beach, between the different hues of the warm sunset, the coolness of the sea breeze and the fact that Lexa had been smart enough to use her mountain bike over her BMX bike; there was very little work to dinky Costia as she rode them along. “This is nice, but where are we going?” Costia asked. Lexa chuckled. “You’ll see.” It was only a few minutes later that Lexa saw her destination, she pulled to a stop slowly and smoothly, then held the brakes so her girlfriend could get off, and then locked her bike to the street light. Taking the throw rug with her, she said to the other brunette, “Follow me.” She went to the end of the foreshore, and there were a couple of rocks that she used to climb down. She turned around and waited for Costia to climb down to her, and watched to see if she needed help. Turning around they were in a very small isolated cove area. She spread the throw rug back a few meters from the edge of the rocks they were on, and they could feel the spray of the waves as they gently crashed against those rocks. Lexa swung her backpack in front of her, pulling out her birthday bottle of beam, and a bottle of Solo, a couple of cups and an insulated lunch bag of food. Costia sat next to her looking out into the ocean. “It’s beautiful here.” “It’s my favourite place outside of the track.” Lexa nodded in agreement as she poured them some drinks and unzipped the bag of food. “Hungry?” Her girlfriend looked at the food. Lexa had made some fried rice with some honey soy chicken bites. “I am but hang on please.” Costia said. She pulled out her phone and then frowned. “There’s no reception.” Lexa already knew this but rather than choosing to say anything she shrugged, and pulled out her own phone and chose her media player that she had spent earlier downloading Costia’s favourite songs. She chose one and pressed play turning the volume so that it was low background noise. “I can’t believe it’s already been a week.” She said to Costia as her girlfriend began to eat. Lexa wasn’t hungry, and she began to hum the song that was currently playing. She didn’t particularly share her girlfriend's taste in music so she went out of her way to learn the melody of it. “The only good thing about being back here is you.” Costia murmured finishing her meal. Then as an afterthought said, “I didn’t know you liked this music.” “You like it. I was wondering if maybe you could sing to me?” Lexa asked shyly. Her girlfriend's eyes lit up in surprise. “You remembered that?” “I remember a lot of things.” She answered simply. Costia repositioned herself so that she was sitting in front of Lexa leaning against her front allowing Lexa to hold her; and when Costia’s voice started to softly sing the song playing on the phone Lexa closed her eyes, and started to hum while memorized the sound of Costia’s voice. Costia continued to sing and Lexa was immersed in the moment of time. Of Costia being in her arms again, she pressed kisses to the side of her neck and her hands wandered as if making sure Costia was really here. Her hands mapped the curves of her hips and the stomach, roaming upwards, stopping shy of her girlfriend's chest and then slid back down again. The singing brunette turned slightly to stop her singing and kissed her. The kiss was intense and needy. Costia’s tongue was demanding. andLexa could feel her lower region coiling. She felt herself being pushed down onto her back as Costia straddled her, her skin burned in the places that her girlfriends own hands travelled. It was only when she felt hands firmly place themselves on her breasts that Lexa came back to reality. She didn’t feel right about this. She reasoned that if she questioned whether or not this felt right then she must not be ready.  “Costia, stop.” She muttered gently and tried to explain. “Too much.” The hands were removed. All of Costia was removed from her as she got off of Lexa and faced away beginning to busy herself by packing their things. The only thing Costia said was, “I’m ready to go home.” Lexa sighed dejectedly. “I’m sorry. I’m just not ready.” “I know. I’m not upset, just disappointed. If you’re not ready, then you’re just not ready.” The other brunette said zipping up the backpack. The bike ride back was silent and uncomfortable. When they arrived at her place and Costia jumped off the handlebars, her girlfriend gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Call me tomorrow?” Lexa asked. She didn’t believe that Costia would, but she still had to ask. Her girlfriend nodded. “Thank you for dinner.” and then hastily made for her front door. Lexa rode home, and she thought about the events. She had initially believed when she decided to take Costia out on a date that if there was something you didn’t like, or a problem you could try and do something about it to change the outcome. But this outcome was worse than the initial problem. Lexa had felt hurt before. Now she felt both hurt and inadequate. She parked herself on the sofa and turned on the TV. She took a leaf out of Indra’s book and muted it. Lexa wasn’t really watching the TV as much as her eyes took notice of the changing imagery on the screen. When Indra came home from work she stood up automatically, but didn’t say anything and hugged the woman for a long time. Thank god for Indra. Sometimes she felt Indra was the only person who kept her feeling sane and safe. Lexa walked into the bar. It was smaller than the club they went to. She liked it better already considering in this place she could maintain her personal space. It wasn’t overcrowded even though there were quite a few people in it. Most of them were sitting down at the bar or at tables, and there were a handful of patrons at a couple of pool tables. She went to the bar and asked for the bartender's choice in beer, and turned around to lean against the bar facing the pool tables watching the people that were playing the games that were in motion. Lexa had very little interest in the games themselves. No, she was here to learn. To learn about people’s behaviour, to learn about what they weren’t saying. She came here to observe. Clueless and yet smart. Two things she’s been called repeatedly by numerous people. Obviously clueless to the dynamics of people’s intentions versus their behaviours. Lexa had forgotten a lesson she learnt fairly early on coming here. People are rarely what they appear to be at face value. Lexa clenched her jaw. She had been wrong in dealing with Costia the way she had. Looking back on it, she had made excuses for Costia’s behaviour rather than reading the writing on the wall. The checking of the phone, the displeasure she had expressed about being back here. The lack of consideration towards Lexa unless Lexa had done something Costia appreciated. Costia was moving on and found a new appreciation in her life at Mount Weather University. In much the same manner Lexa had for hers here. Lexa wanted something that Costia no longer wanted, at least as much as she still did. Costia had never called. To her credit, she did send a text to say she arrived safely. Lexa had chosen not to reply. Lexa opted to give up hope on their relationship. If this was what occurred on their first reunion after a couple of months, then there was very little chance of their relationship lasting, and she didn’t want to invest for no reason. Ironically enough she wasn’t resentful towards her ex girlfriend (or is it soon to be ex girlfriend?) or even the situation. After all, she had experienced the same thing. She had accepted it even though it hurt. The final poke in the eye had been painful enough that she had become determined to learn more about people. To understand them. So here she was observing two people playing pool. The lady had her feet planted shoulder width apart, she held the cue in line with her armpit, and her head was lowered enough that her chin was a centimeter or so above the cue stick. Her stance indicated she was an experienced player. So why was she wobbling only her elbow unsteadily? If she were new then her entire arm would be moving. It was obvious she was pretending to be a bad player. But why? Lexa continued to watch as the woman giggled making sure her opponent was watching before lowering her head so her forehead rested on the table before raising it and turning to direct her giggle at her male opponent again. The man stepped up close behind her, pressing his front firmly against her rear and bent over her, his hand holding the cue stick behind her own hand and he guided her movements to take the shot. Lexa observed the cheshire cat grin on her face. Attention. The woman had wanted his attention and his proximity. She didn’t think that the man was oblivious to the woman's intentions because his expression held a smirk of confidence that was similar to Raven’s when she one upped Anya about something. The smirk was knowing, and he ground his hips slightly into the lady. Lexa turned her attention to another couple of people who seemed to have given up on their pool game and was standing extremely close to each other. Their expressions didn’t seem friendly. She felt confusion at their close proximity despite what was clearly an unhappy conversation. Brows were furrowed and their mouths were thin lines in conjunction of their clenched jaws when they weren’t speaking. Eyes never broke contact with each other. Why the proximity if they were obviously arguing? “I wonder who’s going to give in first.” A voice said from behind her. Lexa turned around to see the bartender eyeing off the dysfunctional couple that she had been watching. She turned back to them. Give in first? Proximity in that setting was an intimidation factor? She supposed it made sense. If she had been one of those two people she’d want to take a step back and regain her personal space. The man in the black shirt was clenching and unclenching his fists. The other guy never once looked at the hands motions.  “Black shirt.” Lexa guessed. The bartender gave her an odd look. “I was going to say the other bloke. Black shirt looks like he’s about to knock some teeth.” Lexa frowned. She had interpreted black shirts’ clenching and unclenching fists as a sign of discomfort and anxiety. A sign of wanting to leave a situation he may not have wanted to be in. She watched him more intensely. No, she had been wrong. His knees were very slightly bent, they were not locked into place. He was ready to move. It had not been anxiety. It had been aggression. It’s not that aggression hadn’t occurred to Lexa as an option. It was that she assumed aggression was unlikely because who actually wants to fight people? “Hm. You’re probably right.” Lexa conceded. “So what’s a doll like you doing here by yourself?” The bartender asked. She turned around to face her and found another beer waiting for her. She took a swallow. Lexa imagined it would be creepy to give the woman the full truth. She gave a half truth instead. “Things aren’t good with my girlfriend, and here I am.” The woman’s expression seemed sad. Lexa shook her head. No this would be sympathetic? She cleared her throat and tried to clarify. We’re not fighting. We’ve never had a fight. I think we’re just growing apart.” Lexa had been right. The bartender was sympathetic as the woman acknowledged empathetically, “It’s always hard when that happens. Even though the earth keeps turning the memories still remain. At least you’re not drinking your sorrows away.” Lexa smiled wryly, and shared. “Well the last time I got drunk my mum had to take care of me.” “Oh the things parents do for their kids. I bet that was an undignified experience.” The bartender laughed. She grinned. “Dignity has nothing to do with it. But it’s not something I want to repeat anytime soon.” “Excuse me.” The bartender said, leaving to serve another customer. When she returned she introduced herself. “I’m Diyoza.” “Surname?” Lexa asked. Diyoza nodded, planting her hands on the bar and leaning on them. “Lexa.” She introduced herself. The bartender smiled. “I like you Lexa. You’re not maggoted and you’re not wallowing in rebelliousness and regret. That makes you smart in my book.” “Maggoted?” Lexa questioned. “Ah, sorry. A bit of Aussie slang. Spent sometime there a while back. It’s a term they use that means being so stupidly drunk.” Diyoza explained with a chuckle. She let out her own chuckle of amusement. It was fitting. The association with actual maggots and the attractiveness to being that intoxicated were the same. “Nice.” Lexa replied. She looked at the time and stood up, it was getting late.“I’m sorry I have to go. I have class in the morning.” Diyoza picked up her empty glass. “What are you studying?” She placed a tip on the bar, and started heading towards the exit. “Youth Work.” “Nice! This world needs more compassion!” The bartender called. Lexa would do this again. Maybe she’ll even force herself to interact with more than just the bartender. Maybe next time she’ll see if she can drag Anya along - without Raven. Lexa had meant what she said. She didn’t want a repeat of that disaster. When she got home Indra was just leaving the house for work, and Lexa checked her phone for a message from Costia. She didn’t expect one, but she couldn’t help herself. Lexa reheated some spaghetti she made earlier that morning and began to work on an assignment for one of her modules.  An essay on something called The Duty of Care Act. The responsibility of every citizen to report any safety or neglect concerns regarding anyone under the age of 18, and by law authorities are required to investigate all reported concerns. It had explained a lot really. Why she had been moved from home to home. Lexa had never been abused. But she was often neglected.  Maybe that’s why Lexa didn’t want to move away from Arkadia. This was her first stable place, and she had no desire to move in the future. The closest thing she could see would be moving into a place of her own. But another couple of months of studying and a few more weeks of job placement and that was a very real event about to happen. Lexa hoped that she wouldn’t be caught up in the whirlwind of change and forget about Indra. She couldn’t imagine that she would. But she hadn’t thought that Costia could so easily detach either. She missed coaching the kids on their bikes. She had to stop doing it because it clashed with her placement times at The Shack. It was also the same for Wednesday nights training. Training in the mornings had also taken a backseat due to classes. She missed the freedom and stress relief of the track. But it was only another couple of months right? Maybe if she went to this bar every Sunday for these self learning events she might make some acquaintances. She wasn’t too interested in expanding her friendship circle, but what’s the point of understanding things if she doesn’t know how to react to them? She could trade BMX for playing Pool until school was over. It was all a temporary thing. She would be fine no matter what happens. Lexa was making their morning dinner for later when she said “I have something to tell you.” “Mmm?” She heard Indra ask. It was actually fairly exciting news. At least for her. But she knew that Indra would be happy for her. No, Indra wouldn’t be happy for her. Indra would be proud and happy for her; and that made Lexa happy and proud of herself. “Titus, the manager at The Shack wants to hire me after I finish my training.” Lexa couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.  She hadn’t expected it, so when Titus had called her into the tiny office of the huge tin shed, she actually thought she might have been in trouble. Lexa had been keeping up with her observation exercises at the bar every Sunday evening, and she had felt she was learning a lot. But Titus had what she heard to be called ‘a resting bitch face’ and he was fairly unexpressive.  So when he instead complimented her on her attention to detail and the amount of energy she had to engage with the youth she had been pleasantly surprised. She had been so happy she was even more energetic. Giddy? Chipper? Enthusiastic? One of those, anyway. Indra didn’t say anything but Lexa had been watching for her reaction and her mother had a closed lipped smile as she looked back at Lexa and waited for her to continue. “They’re starting me out on a casual basis, but they said my contract will be a minimum of 24hours a week. 18 hours on the weekend from 9 to 6 and 6 hours on Tuesday from 2:30 to 8:30 to run the girls night.” Lexa explained. “Casual hours will be good money.” Indra said, “But, casual is not a permanent position.” Lexa might have thought Indra could possibly be critising the job position if she didn’t know the woman as well as she did. She knew this was just Indra’s way of making sure she knew what she was getting into. But Lexa had already questioned Titus about this. “Yeah it’s $30 an hour for Tuesday, and $42 an hour on weekends. Titus said company policy is that all new employees are hired as casuals as their trial period. They’re putting my hours into the employment contract because I didn’t want them to make my hours erratic.” Lexa elaborated. She watched as Indra scratched some notes on a serviette, and Indra looked up with a brow raised, “$936 a week gross pay. Not bad for a starting job.” Lexa nodded, “Yeah I know if I make it past the trial period, and they hire me on a full time permanent basis that my hourly wage will be reduced down to $24 an hour but, it is a more stable position and I get benefits then.” Her mother leaned back in her chair and contemplated the information before asking, “What are the benefits?” “One Roster Day Off. So they’d employ me for 38hours but pay me for 36, and one day a month I can take a day off. There’s 7 days sick leave for the year and 4 weeks annual leave. But that’s only if they employ me full time. I don’t get any of that for part time which is only 25 hours.” Lexa rattled off. Indra smiled, “Well, that sounds really good. There’s also the benefit that qualified youth workers are always in need so if they don’t want you full time there’s little chance you won’t be hired anywhere else. You’ve worked hard for this. If this is what will make you happy then you deserve this Lexa. Congratulations.” Perhaps Indra didn’t say she was proud of Lexa. But she heard those words anyway and she couldn’t help but beam. “You haven’t mentioned anything about Costia, and I can’t remember the last time you even mentioned Clarke, come to think of it.” Indra enquired. Lexa shrugged. She wasn’t opposed to thinking or talking about Clarke, but what was there to say about someone she no longer talks to? As for Costia.. Well, Costia is a sore point for her. She had sent the brunette a few messages which Lexa had ignored. She had been serious in not wanting to invest anything for no return. While she logically accepted the turn of events with the other brunette, Lexa’s throat still closed up and pits formed in her stomach at the thought of her. Her head and her heart were not in sync with each other; and until they were Lexa didn’t think she could even be friends with her. “I think Clarke is sleeping with someone, another woman answered the phone and woke her up. Funny thing was she didn’t know Clarke’s name.” Lexa snorted at the memory. “She obviously cares about people too quickly to sleep with them so soon. I haven’t spoken to her since that call.” Lexa wasn’t sure what she expected, but Indra laughing was definitely at the bottom of the list. The older woman eventually stopped laughing and grinned, “Or she doesn’t care about her at all.” The brunette stopped what she was doing and stared at Indra. Someone as friendly and engaging as Clarke not caring about a person she sleeps with? Lexa couldn’t fathom it. Lexa couldn’t even let Costia touch her with clothes on in that manner and she did care for Costia. She frowned. Despite her confusion about it, it was none of her business. “Costia and I aren’t involved anymore.” She stated factually. There was a vague detachment to the sentence. The sentence reflected the truth, and nothing more. Despite the topic of the sentence it was not a statement that reflected her personal thoughts or feelings on the matter. Indra seemed to catch on because the woman didn’t enquire further. “What are your plans for the day?” “I’m going to finish my last module. I’m ahead of the rest of the class but at least I’ll have some spare time again. I can’t wait until this training is over.” Lexa said. It was both a true and an untrue statement. Even though Lexa had taken control of her life she was still fully aware of the unconditional support that Indra gives her. The next phase of her life would be complete independence. She hoped her new found independence would be just as stable and steady as things are now.  Vaguely she wondered if she was becoming a control freak. She had noticed she’s gotten into the habit of ‘if there’s a problem, it must be fixed.’ and Lexa wasn’t sure if that was healthy. But in hindsight she supposed that making a wrong decision was better than making no decision and remaining stagnant.  You could at least learn from the experience of a bad choice. Even though Anya hadn’t said it, Lexa was almost positive that Raven had moved in with her. It’s either that or Raven spends so much time at Anya’s she might as well move in. Lexa was pretty certain that would be her next step. Finding her own place. She frowned at the thought. Her own place sounded so impersonal, she wanted to find a place she could call home. That felt like home. A place that felt like this place here with Indra. “If I finish early enough I wouldn’t mind spending some time at the track. Anya can probably beat me now since she can train while I haven’t been able to.” She added on with a chuckle. “Sounds like you got a plan.” Indra replied. She stood up and stretched. “I have to catch some sleep before work, and Lexa; I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far since we met.” Lexa grinned, and made her way over to the woman to kiss her cheek. “Sleep well.” She wasn’t sure how long she was working on her module for when her phone rang. Costia’s name flashed on the screen and Lexa let it ring out. A few minutes later it rang again. She figured if Costia called twice then she’d probably call again until she answered. So she pressed the green icon. “Hello?” Costia’s voice came through, and she sounded irritated. Especially she chose to greet her with “What was the point of me buying you a phone if you never answer my texts or calls?” Lexa thought that was just a plain rude way to start a conversation. But she pushed aside her own irritation and responded with her explanation of fact. “I need time.” “Time for what?” Costia genuinely sounded confused. “This isn’t really working is it?” Lexa asked. The other brunette responded “What isn’t? Us?”  “Yes.” She replied simply. “So you’re breaking up with me? That’s why you’ve been radio silent?” Costia asked for clarification. “Yes. You’re not happy here, and let’s be honest when you were here with me, you didn’t want to be here; in Arkadia.” She said trying to be gentle. Lexa didn’t want to fight and she didn’t want Costia to feel rejected. Even if Lexa felt that way she didn’t want to inflict that on her. “I’m happy with you.” Came Costia’s own gentle reply. Lexa recognised the unspoken words in the statement. The complete lack of acknowledgement about Lexa’s statement regarding her feelings about Arkadia. It was a confirmation that Costia wanted nothing more to do with Arkadia even if she did care about Lexa still. Even more quietly she said, “Arkadia’s a part of me. I don’t want to leave this place, or anyone here.” There was silence for a long time. Lexa actually checked her screen to make sure the call was still connected. It was. Eventually Costia did answer, with a shaky “I see. I’m sorry.” “Me too.” She whispered. “Will you call me? When you’re ready?” Costia asked. “I promise.” Lexa said. She felt conflicted. It wasn't but just a few hours ago she had decided she was going to cut ties with her because there was no return for what she was investing in for. But that had been about their relationship. She was willing to invest in a friendship. If they could be friends. She knew a lot of exes didn’t handle regression in their relationship too well. Lexa hoped this would be different. They weren’t breaking up because they were dysfunctional, or because of jealousy or anything else. Their paths were forked into opposite directions. Costia had been her first friend ever, and despite how their romantic relationship turned out. It would be extremely unfortunate to end a relationship period with her. There was something final in the way Costia miserably said “Goodluck Lexa.” before she hung up. Lexa threw her phone on to her desk, and scowled. Nothing made sense to her right now. Even though she had already made up her mind about them breaking up before the phone call, it was somehow cemented as a point of no return now that the conversation took place, and it left her feeling unreasonably angry. She glared at her open module she was working on. She didn’t want to do it anymore. She was ahead anyway. She didn’t particularly like changing her plans, but she knew she was too distracted to be able to sit down and concentrate. Lexa shoved her shoes on her feet and put on her helmet walking her BMX bike out the door. There was enough daylight left for Lexa to get to the track and use it as an outlet. When she rode the track it was eerily similar to how she raced against Clarke. It was fast, and brutal. There was no care for technique, she rode repetitive circuits until her legs ached and she was forced to take a break.  As she sat down guzzling from her water bottle she recited to herself that ‘It’s only temporary. The good and the bad. Nothing stays the same, and that’s both a good thing and a bad thing.’ She would get over this. She knew it. But until then she had to deal with it, and until she dealt with it she would not call Costia. Raven downed her bourbon fast and side eyed Lexa. “You know most people come here to have a good time, right?  Lexa rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to reply. Ever since they came back to the club the sassy brunette has been harping on her about having fun. The club wasn’t a place that Lexa felt particularly comfortable in. “Leave her be.” Anya said grouchily. “But if she just relaxed and stopped worrying about herself and everyone else she’d be able to let go and just go with the flow.” Raven protested. Was that really her problem? That she was unable to just be in the moment? Was that even a problem period? Lexa personally didn’t think so. But it did seem to be more of a problem for her interactions with people. She supposed that made it a problem. It made logical sense to her that it could be her main issue with her socialisation. She had never really allowed herself to be impulsive except with Indra or Costia. Lexa needed a bit of liquid courage and downed her own beer. She had learned through her weekly trips to Diyoza’s bar that she tolerated beer much better than whatever crap Raven drinks.  Her gaze travelled slowly from the bar, to the pool tables, and then to the mob of dancers and back again. She wasn’t quite ready to make her debut tonight on the dance floor yet. But the pool tables were too much of a comfort zone for her. That only left the bar, and considering she just finished drinking her beer she was due for a refill anyway. “You two go and make out or something. I’ll be over at the bar.” She said. It was meant to be somewhat teasing. She hoped they took it that way. She elbowed Raven on the way past in the side to signify that she was joking.  The brunette's response was to turn around and slap her ass before she walked out of her reach. “Aye, aye Commander!” Making her way closer to the bar, Lexa took note of the customers who had chosen the spot to spend their time there. Most of them were guys in groups of two, just sitting there laughing and talking. She had no interest in wanting to disrupt them or even to be in their company. Then there were a couple of girls who were sitting next to each other, a blonde and a redhead. Lexa chose to sit next to the redhead and waited for the bartender to come serve her. The two women didn’t seem to be talking to each other. The blonde was fiddling with her phone frowning and the redhead was looking at the liquor bottles on display behind the bar occasionally sipping on some sort of red drink. Obviously they weren’t there with each other. The bartender arrived and placed a schooner of beer in front of her without her having to order it. From her peripheral vision Lexa saw the redheads shoulders slump and she took this as an opportunity, and asked her “Rough day?” The redhead looked at her seemingly analysing her. Lexa was pleased to recognise curiosity in the look rather than disinterest. “My boss is an asshole. Thank god the working day is over.” Lexa took a sip of her beer, the woman seemed to be willing to talk to her. So she asked further, “My name’s Lexa, by the way. What is it that you do?” “Sarah. A word of advice, never become a secretary. Your bosses will think they own you.” Sarah complained. She made an attempt at chuckling good naturedly, and decided to try for some humour. “If it makes you feel better, my bosses are a bunch of early to late teens. Well, will be. I start work in a couple of weeks.” “Teacher?” Sarah asked her, looking her up and down. “Hm, maybe not. You look a little young. You can’t be in your 20s yet?” Lexa gave a half grin. “I’m just finishing up VET (Vocational Educational Training) Certificate IV in Youth Work. I’ll be working as a Recreational Youth Worker.” Sarah’s eyes sparkled, and she recognised it as humour. Humour was confirmed as the redhead groaned quipping, “Better you than me. Not sure I could handle all the hormones and moodiness.” “Nah, they’re not moody. I think they’re just misunderstood.” Lexa replied with a small smile. “You would say that. You look rather young.” The redhead said. Lexa took a few gulps of her beer. “I suppose so. Maybe you’re right and I'm biased because I'm not much older than them. What about you?” There was no doubt that Sarah was older than her. Couldn’t be by much though since the redhead appeared to be only a few years older. “I don’t kiss and tell.” Sarah replied with a grin. “Well, how about you whinge about your asshole boss?” She asked. The redhead snorted, “I’m here drinking at a bar, talking to a stranger because I don’t want to be at home thinking about my shitty job.” Lexa mimicked what she had seen Raven do a couple of times in situations like this. She raised her hands in mock surrender and said “Ok, ok. Message received. What would you like to talk about then?” Maybe Raven had been right. While Lexa was uncomfortable with this new type of communication that she was trying, Lexa had been focusing more on the conversation with Sarah rather than hyperfocusing on questioning what was a right or wrong way to interact, which in hindsight allowed her to not overthink her own feelings or awkwardness. It didn’t quite feel natural, but she didn’t feel as if a spotlight only she could see was on her. “I want to know why you are here by yourself.” Sarah said with a raised brow. Lexa turned to face the booths and the dance floor. Her eyes were searching and she nodded her head in a direction towards the dance floor. “Those two over there. One of them looks cranky. I’m here with them. Kind of.” “Looks like they may be leaving without you if they keep this up.” Sarah chuckled. She chuckled too. With the way Anya and Raven were all over each other she wouldn’t doubt it. “You’re probably right.” “We could go join them if you wanted.” Sarah suggested. Lexa returned her gaze to the redhead. The brow was raised still, but there was a slight smirk on her lips. She realised that Sarah didn’t mean to approach her friends and chat. She was inviting her to dance. Lexa downed the rest of her beer. She was apprehensive considering her last experience with a woman dancing. But she felt a lot more comfortable with Sarah. “You’re brave. I’d be careful of your feet if I were you. I’m not a very good dancer.” Lexa said honestly. “I won’t know until we try.” Sarah said jumping off her stool.  Lexa followed her. She appreciated that the other woman didn’t grab her hand to lead her to the floor. She also appreciated the fact that when they did enter the floor, Sarah took the position of having her back to Lexa. This allowed Lexa a lot more control over the situation and the dancing. It meant that Lexa placed her hands on Sarah’s waist and while her upper body touched the redheads back, she was able to control the distance between their lower bodies. It felt far less intimate than before. They continued to sway to the beat of the music and Lexa didn’t move her hands from the other woman’s waist. Her comfort was growing with the fact that Sarah did not lean or press back against her. That, Sarah was letting her take the lead with what she was comfortable with. This wasn’t so bad. Did she dare believe that this could actually be fun? Sarah stepped forward and twirled around so that they were facing each other. Her hands went onto her shoulders, but she kept the distance that Lexa had set. Lexa gulped and tried to focus on the music and the beat. The redhead never attempted to close the gap between them. “See?! I knew she could do it! My little baby is growing up!” Raven slurred loudly over the music to Anya. The blonde smirked at Lexa and gave a miniscule nod. Not that Lexa needed it. She didn’t care about Raven’s approval, but there was something about Anya’s gesture of approval that caused Lexa to smirk back at her. “Ignore them.” She said to Sarah. “They’re drunk.” Sarah laughed. “Like everybody else here.” “I’m not. Maybe a bit buzzed but not drunk.” Lexa replied. “Sure Jan.” Sarah quipped. Lexa chuckled. “Last time I was here with Raven it was rather embarrassing. So I try not to get wasted.” “It looks like your friends are getting ready to leave.” The redhead observed, and Lexa turned around to look at them. Sure enough, they had untangled from each other and Anya was looking at Lexa gesturing with her head towards the door. “I guess it’s time. Thanks for the dance.” Lexa said. “Thank you for distracting me from idiot bosses.” Sarah quipped with a grin. When they got outside, it was obvious Raven and Anya were both more drunk than she realised, they walked unsteadily and held onto each other. They called for an uber, and when it arrived they piled it. Lexa couldn’t be sure but as the uber pulled out, she saw Ms Blake and Mr Blake with a woman with dark red hair that had obviously been dyed and a tall muscular man with a bald head.  She wondered what Ms Blake was doing here. She had seemed to be too much of a health freak to be in a place like this. Lexa blamed Raven for her next thought, that going to a club would be the only way for Mr Blake to get laid. That was mean. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Mr Blake. Surely there are some women out there that love an affectionate and over protective man right? Lexa had the uber driver drop Anya and Raven off first. At least this way she knew they got home safely, and when she got home Lexa decided to make some pasta for frozen dinners so that she didn’t have to cook in the morning. She felt that tonight had gone pretty well. Even if Raven had been the one to drag her out. Lexa hadn’t made a fool of herself, she hadn’t pissed anyone off, she hadn’t felt so awkwardly out of place, got positive reception to jokes she told and that wasn’t even mentioning that she didn’t freeze up when they danced. It left her feeling confident. When she finished cooking and portioned out the meals Lexa laid down in her bed and looking at her wall she saw her Certificate to say she was a qualified youth worker, next to it was the picture Clarke had done for her birthday. Looking at her certificate made Lexa think about the arrangement between Indra and herself when she started work. Even though Lexa’s gross pay should be $936, her net pay after tax would be closer to $800. She had agreed to pay Indra $250 for rent, plus $50 for food and another $50 for utilities.  Indra had been clear in explaining it wasn’t that she needed the money, but that Lexa needed to learn how to budget since it would be her own responsibility soon enough. Lexa though didn’t need an explanation. $350 was just under half her pay, and she figured that $350 was still a pretty good deal. Besides, it was Indra. If Indra had demanded $600 Lexa still wouldn’t have hesitated into agreeing. After all, it was Indra and she trusted Indra unequivocally. But the agreement was another reminder that the next phase in her life would begin soon. Clarke downed some type of red shot that Octavia had poured them before joining her brother to play Mario Kart. She may have been looking at the TV screen, But she wasn’t seeing the TV screen. No, she was trying to come up with a rational reason to reject the Blake sibling’s offer. She had put way too much on her plate in recent months, and she was getting burnt out. Even her once, and sometimes twice a week booty call hadn’t been helping much and she had tried different things to try and feel differently about her life. She hasn’t cut her hair and she even went as far as dying it to a dark red colour. As if changing her appearance would really change her happiness. It had been a foolish notion.  K was nice and funny. She was human and she was around. But for whatever reason Clarke was unable to allow herself to become close to the woman. There was a safety in physical intimacy; and Clarke wasn’t sure if it was because of the passing of her father or if it was because of the breakdown of her relationship with her mother that she found it difficult to be able to maintain emotional intimacy with anyone new. She needed to get away from Polis and had taken a trip back to Arkadia to see Bell and O again, and to meet O’s partner Lincoln. He was a gentle giant. His size and musculine physique was initially a bit intimidating but contrary to his physical appearance, he spoke only when he had something to say and it was always spoken softly. Clarke liked him. He tempered O’s more rigid and rough personality. O smiled more with him, and that’s all Clarke cared about. He made her friend happy. The Blake siblings decided to double bank her though, with what they call an offer and she considers to be more of a pressured request; to have her move in with them. They wouldn’t charge rent. She’d have to pay for her own food and contribute to utilities. She was already doing her units externally and she could do her unit placement hours here too. Rationally speaking Clarke didn’t have a reason to deny the offer. It was more that she didn’t want to impose herself on them and that it felt like she was regressing in her life to move from independence to co-dependence even if it were only temporary.  With that being said she would be much happier and her days wouldn’t be as busy as they were since she wouldn’t have to worry about working part time, and she’d be able to train and race. Due to her having already finished six units that she had over the summer semester, had enrolled to do her remaining five theory units externally and decided to do each of her three practical units over three different terms. She was ahead of her study course structure. She knew O and Bell loved her and that they would never consider this a debt or an imposition. If one of their roles were reversed Clarke knew without a doubt or a second thought she’d offer them the same thing. She also knew that if their roles were reversed, Octavia would be just as difficult as she was being, and would have required harassment into agreeing also. Stripping away all the bullshit, it came down to being a matter of pride. “You know Octavia will never say this, but she misses you.” Lincoln shared. Yes. Clarke did know that. This was the first time since they met that they had ever truly been separated this way. Clarke loved her relationship with O. It didn’t require a whole lot of open interaction. There was just a steady knowledge that they were emotionally connected. “I know.” Clarke replied. “I miss her too.” She gave him a crooked smile, “Thank you for making her happy. I’ve never seen her so happy before.” He smiled back, but ignored her words. “We’re talking about you.” Clarke raised a brow smirking at him, “Did she bribe you into talking to me about this?” She poured another shot for them both. “What she cares about, I care about.” Lincoln replied simply. She downed her shot and smiled genuinely at him. “You’re every woman’s dream guy Linc. You two are lucky to have found each other.” He raised his shot glass in the air towards her with a smile of his own and drank it. She turned her gaze back to the TV screen and snorted. O had switched to playing Bowser and had activated the lightning strike and ran over Yoshi flattening the character that Bellamy was playing. “She’s ruthless.” Clarke grinned. Lincoln laughed, “No, she’s just passionate.” She got up and walked over to the fridge pulling out four beers and handed one to Lincoln and placed two on the coffee table for Bellamy and Octavia before sitting next to Bell cracking her own beer open. In her opinion there were very few things that were better than watching how competitive the Blake siblings got playing Mario Kart when they were drinking. “For fucks sakes O!” Bellamy exclaimed when Bowser had shot a green turtle shell backwards and it hit Yoshi. Clarke believed that Octavia’s ruthlessness in the game was her payback to him giving her grief about boys and sex. She didn’t blame her either. Even though it was sort of petty at least it was harmless. A controller was shoved into her hand, she looked at Bellamy who was pouting and said “I’m not sure I'm sober enough to play.” “One can never be too drunk to play Mario Kart. Beat her for me Princess.” Bell pleaded. She laughed, and just for the simple fact that he once again called her Princess, she chose to be Princess Peach. But before they started the race O called for a rotation for a bathroom break. Clarke went last, and when she returned Octavia flashed her a grin. It was a grin that Clarke knew that her friend had something up her sleeve. “Let’s have a bet.” O suggested. Bellamy nodded in agreement. Clarke raised a brow. Yes she was drunk. No she was not stupid drunk. “What have you two cooked up while I was in the bathroom?” Bellamy gasped with a dramatic flair which was a dead give away. “We conspire against you? No way.” She directed her gaze to Octavia. “Best out of three. If you win, you can go back to being miserable in Polis. But I never want to hear you bitch about that place again. If I win, you stay here and Bell and I will pick up your crap on the weekend.” O stated. Clarke laughed. “So, your bet is a win/win situation for me. If you win I live in a place rent free and don’t have to work. If I win then I’m continuing to do what I was already doing.” “Yep.” Said Bellamy. “Look, we care about you. We just want you to be happy.” “You guys are great. No one could ever ask for better friends.” Clarke said feeling rather sentimental after Bellamy’s little speech and O’s participation. She laid down on the couch using Bell’s lap as a pillow, happily resigned to the bet and picked up the controller. Octavia was the Mario Kart Queen out of them. Hell, even Bellamy was better than her. Fuck her pride. Life was too short to be keeping yourself miserable just because of something as vain as pride. She guessed she would be staying here for the next eight months or so. Clarke had too much pride to let her friend beat her. But it was kind of inevitable. She was just terrible at computer games. It was actually really nostalgic. It didn’t seem that long ago that the three of them were housemates doing college together and part time work to support each other. So it’s not like doing it again would be weird. Honestly, that period was one of the best periods of memories for Clarke. Just her and the Blake siblings. Them against the world and she had no issue with Lincoln being a part of that. She was comfortable on Bellamy’s lap and it was causing her to get drowsy, she couldn’t help one last quip before she shut her eyes as if she were really in any position to make demands. “As long as I don’t hear any sex-a-thons.” When Clarke woke up, she was still on Bell’s lap, he was sleeping sitting upright. She sat up straight and looked around. There was no sign of Octavia or sweet Lincoln. She helped herself to some multi juice that was in the fridge and downed it with some panadol then took a shower.  When she emerged Bellamy was bleary eyed, but awake with a cup of coffee in front of him. His voice was hoarse as he greeted her. “Morning Princess.” “Morning Bell. O and Linc aren’t here. Did they go to his place?” She asked. “No, O didn’t think you’d follow through on the bet and took your keys, so her and Linc are driving to get your things.” He explained. She snorted. It would be just like O to make sure she couldn’t back out. Not that she honestly wanted to anyway. She already felt much lighter being back in Arkadia. Clarke figured she might as well notify her landlord and shot him off a quick text message saying she was moving out, and was not going to pay the next four weeks of rent since she didn’t give reasonable notification - reasoning that he could keep the deposit and reminding him she agreed to pay 50% of the hotel bill and internet fees for her studies when she first moved in. After making a cup of coffee for herself she sat opposite of Bell, and asked “So what’s Linc do for work?” “He designs and runs programs for kids. He manages all the programs during school, but takes a more hands on approach during school holidays.” Bellamy answered. It was nice actually that they all shared a common interest and passion for kids. Clarke could see why her friend was so head over heels for him. He was kind, considered. He tempered her and they had the same interests. As if reading her mind Bellamy added on, “He’s a really good guy.” That’s about as much approval as she could ever picture Bellamy giving to his sister's partner.  Clarke grinned, knowing how much of an uncomfortable thing this was for him and rediverted the conversation to more familiar territory. “So got your lesson plans done for the week yet?” Bellamy snorted. “No.” There was nothing he hated more than doing his lesson plans. It was the probable explanation as to why all his students never showed any enthusiasm or engagement in his classes. “How about we do it together? All you have to do is follow through with them in the classroom. What else haven’t you done yet that should be done?” She said, smirking. He groaned but agreed. It was much more appealing to do something you didn’t want to do with someone else. He answered, “I also need to finish off some marking.” So they discussed and worked on his lesson plans, and she took a stack of papers to begin grading, when Bellamy’s voice was full of affection, said. “I meant what I said last night. We care about you.” Clarke tightened her grip on the pen she was holding but forced a small smile on her lips. She didn’t look up as she replied. “I know, and it means a lot. We have all, always cared about each other and nothing will change that.” She knew exactly what Bellamy meant, she’s known it for a while. There had been a security in that for years he had never directly forced her to acknowledge it. Bellamy was like her brother. “No, nothing will change that.” His voice confirmed and he said nothing more on it to her relief. “Thanks for helping me with this.” Clarke looked up at him and gave him a small but warm smile. “Anytime Bell, anytime. And thank you.” He met her gaze and his own crooked smile and mimicked “Anytime Princess, always.” Lexa was awake bright and early, not that she had been able to sleep much anyway. She had woken up when the sun was just beginning to rise and her nerves caused her to be unable to go back to sleep. Really, she knew she had no reason to be nervous at all. Because you know, it’s not like she hasn’t spent one month at The Shack anyway doing her job placement and getting to know the kids. But the idea of going in today made it feel like she was going to be entering the place for the first time. Today was her first official day of employment. Titus had made sure that as soon as she was qualified that he’d run through the employment paperwork for her as fast as possible. The guy was always came across as extremely impassive but the urgency and actions he took to make sure she was employed told her that he wasn’t quite as stoic as he appeared to be. It’s not like what she was feeling was a bad nervous. It was more of an excited positive nervousness. An anticipation that signified she was no longer a child. She put on the kettle for Indra and prepared a cup of tea for her knowing that her mother would be home soon from work, and grabbed a banana to eat for breakfast. She was debating whether or not it would be wise to burn off her nerves at the track before she started her shift. If she went now she could always be back in time for a short nap if she needed one. But if she were just as nervous then she’d be overtired with the kids. Screw it. She’ll go to the track. Even if she did exhaust herself then at least she’d sleep well tonight. Lexa called Anya. “There better be a good reason you’re calling at the crack ass of dawn.” The blonde grunted. Lexa could hear Raven murmur something unintelligible in the background. She changed her mind. “Sorry, nevermind. I’ll call you back later.” “Out with it now. You’ve already called.” Anya growled. “Nerves. I was going to burn some off at the track and wanted to see if you would come.” Lexa asked regretting dialling the number. There was a brief silence before Anya grunted out, “Be there in an hour.” and then there was the dial tone. Freaking Anya. So grouchy but always supportive in her own moody way. Lexa filled a water bottle and donned her BMX gear and left a note for Indra which was needless since when she exited the house and was locking the door, the woman pulled up in her car. The brunette stopped to give her mother a hug before riding off. When she got there, she didn’t bother entering the club. She sat on the curb of the car park waiting for her friend instead. What was unusual was that there was a car here, and not just any car. But Ms Blake’s car.  Lexa couldn’t remember the last time she saw the woman at the track. Anya arrived a little while later, and they entered the club together. Immediately she noticed that there was a rider on the track. She recognised Ms Blake instantly by her bike and her flashing freestyle riding. Lexa watched her go high over a jump and whip the body of her bike around her handlebars as she held her own body over the bike (this trick is called a tail whip). She went to her usual spot at the bleachers and frowned. Apparently this was where Ms Blake had decided to sit her gear. What was unusual though was that there was another bike leaned against the bleachers. Custom built and custom painted. The base paint was pitch black in contrast to the bright colours of yellow, blue and green to what appeared to be random stripes at abstract angles. She actually appreciated the hi contrast colour scheme. Lexa looked and spotted an empty shaded table a few meters away and nodded her head at Anya towards it. Setting down her duffle bag, she tightened her helmet strap and nearly jumped out of skin much to Anya’s amusement, when a hand was placed firmly on her shoulder. She whipped her head around to see Ms Blake’s green eyes peering at her through her own helmet. “It’s been a while Woods.” She really was so surprised by both the unexpected hand on her shoulder and the fact the other woman was speaking to her that she took a few seconds before responding. “Yeah. It’s been a few months.” Lexa was grateful her voice came out more steady than how she felt. Her old PE teacher had an unusual glint in her eyes that she’d never seen before followed by what she has now learned to be mischievousness from Raven in her voice. “Your competition will be out here shortly. They’re just taking a shower. Go easy, they’re hung over.” Lexa nodded and Ms Blake laughed. She had the feeling that Ms Blake was making fun of her but she didn’t get the joke. She glanced at Anya who was a whole lot of help with the shrug of her shoulders indicating she had no idea either. “I thought you quit.” Lexa said. She berated herself. That was rude. Lexa tried again, “I thought you quit racing. I never see you here anymore. Are you racing again?” Perhaps she was seeing things but she swore the glint in Ms Blake’s eyes brightened as she replied, “Racing was always Clarke’s thing. I prefer freestyle much better, and a bit of nostalgia never hurt anyone. But I was just about to have a shower. I’m leaving, I have other things to do today.” The tone was definitely too light hearted for Lexa’s memory of the woman. She nodded dumbly at her and was grateful that her helmet and goggles were masking her baffled expression. Sure Lexa had learned to read other people much better. She sucked at managing her own expressions. Maybe Ms Blake had been abducted by aliens and replaced by a doppelganger? The woman in question broke her thoughts with a “Later, Woods.” Lexa raised her hand in a small wave and mimicked, “Later.”  “Fucking weird.” Anya said. She agreed, and said “Let’s race.” Anya pushed on her bike and Lexa followed her up the starting gate. Rather than do a count down though, her friend instead said “Grow some balls.” Lexa turned to face her.  What? “Titus loves you. Grow some balls and get over those nerves. You’ve worked there for a month. You’ll be fine.” Anya lectured her. Lexa snorted and gave her friend the finger before pushing down the ramp to do a circuit. She was annoyed with Anya. She didn’t feel as if Anya were wrong but it was the dismissive attitude that annoyed her. There was a snide part of her that thought ‘easy for you to say, you don’t have to worry about work or money.’ She instantly felt guilty at the impulsive thought. Anya paid her own price for her financial freedom. Loneliness and the apathy that the blondes parents had for her must be excruciatingly difficult to come to terms with. Lexa wasn’t riding seriously. She was pacing herself and warming up on the track and Anya easily caught up with her. This lap wasn’t about racing or competing with each other. This lap was simply about being in their own mental world. When they finished the circuit they went  up to the starting gate again. Up at the top though was the rider who owned that custom bike she spotted earlier. The rider was wearing their own BMX goggles, so Lexa couldn’t make out any of their features other than they had fair skin.  Anya obviously couldn’t help herself as her friend's competitive side came out asking the person “Are you any good?” The rider raised one of their hands horizontally and spread their fingers out tilting the hands up and down in a ‘so-so’ motion. “Wanna race?” The blonde fired out. The rider shrugged, and a beat later then gave a thumbs up. “Track rules? Best out of three?” Anya went about setting the standards. The rider shrugged again and nodded. Lexa found it strange that the person didn’t speak back. She found it just as strange that Anya was being somewhat confrontational to the stranger too. She decided she better participate in her friend's childish competition so that she wasn’t alone in this and announced. “I’ll count us down from three.” The rider nodded in acknowledgement. They lined their bikes up in the lanes. Making sure she tried to space the time out between her numbers evenly, she did the countdown. “Three! Two! One! Go!” They kicked off.  Lexa shook her head mentally to herself, it had seemed redundant to her that Anya had challenged them all to race when the blonde was the weaker of the three of them. Anya fell behind rather quickly after the first straight. Lexa pedalled hard, and did a speed jump over the doubles. So did her competitor who was in front of her, but by less than a bike length. Her legs ached, and she was breathing heavily. Lexa wasn’t losing any ground to her competitor but she wasn’t catching up either. Finally she got a stroke of luck as they entered the rhythm sections. The other rider lost their flow and misjudged the landing of their front wheel as they attempted to scooter over them causing the rider to crash. Lexa crossed the finish line, and turned around to see the other ride was back on their bike coming her way. Again the rider said nothing, but flashed her a double thumbs up. Lexa noted they were breathing hard too. At the top of the starting gate they took a few minutes breather before Lexa repeated the countdown. This time the race felt differently to Lexa. Her competitor seemed to be focusing more on their technique and being cautious rather than worrying about her position. The rider rode better for it too. Their speed jumps were flawless, and the scootering was perfect. But because they were focused on technique more than speed Lexa had pulled ahead. She felt confident she could win again. It was her over confidence that made her lose the race. She had wanted to be as far ahead of her competitor as possible. Since in their last race Lexa would have lost if it hadn’t been for the bail. BMX was a source of pride to her, she didn’t appreciate the threat to that pride and focused on her speed that Lexa hadn’t noticed she was on the very edge of the track when she decided to ride down the step down causing her to slip and fall over herself. As she rolled over and got on her bike again she snorted at the irony of her own bail. Sweet karma. The rider did the same thing she had done and waited for her at the finish line. This time it was a single thumbs up that was flashed to her. “Fuck you both.” Anya growled as they took their positions. Seems that Lexa’s pride wasn’t the only one that was bruised. Lexa reached over and slapped her on the back and chastised her. “Don’t be rude.” She looked over at the rider and asked “Ready for the last one?” She received a nod and Lexa did the count down. She shot off, and decided to be more careful this time. Constantly being aware of her positioning on the track, and being hyper conscious of her technique. She didn’t pay attention to her competitor. As far as Lexa was concerned, she owned the track and she was the only person on it. When she reached the finish line and re-entered the world of reality she noticed that her competitor was not with her. Lexa turned around and found the rider doing a 360 over the last hump of the rhythms before transitioning into a manual on landing and lowered their front wheel as they crossed the finish line. She found herself annoyed at the person. They hadn’t taken the last race seriously. The rider though kept riding and rode over to the bleachers, and in a huff Lexa followed after them.  “What was that?!” She demanded to them, their back was to her. She could see the rider raise their hands to remove their goggles and undo the helmet strap. As the helmet came off she watched as dyed, dark red hair splay themselves upon their shoulders. Now Lexa knew they were a she. When the head turned, the first thing she noticed were those sparkling blue mischievous eyes, and then the familiar smirk of those lips that she had seen so many times. “Hello, Lexa.” Clarke said. Clarke took her goggles and her helmet off, she was thoroughly amused by the brunette's indignation, that like the last time they raced; Clarke threw this final race and she felt her lips tilt into a smirk as she turned her head to face her. “Hello, Lexa.” She greeted her. There was a beat before Lexa reacted and removed her own goggles and helmet, and Clarke studied her as much as it was apparent that Lexa was studying her back. She watched as slightly widened green eyes took in her new appearance starting with her longer and red hair, roaming over her face then down her body and then looking at her bike. Of course Clarke had recognised her as soon as she came out of the showers and saw two riders on the track. Lexa was still wearing the protective wear that she had given her, even if the bike wasn’t a dead give away. Clarke didn’t know Anya had taken up racing, and when the younger blonde challenged her to race she didn’t want to affect the race by letting them know who she was. Clarke’s own eyes roamed over Lexa. One of the first things that she had noticed on the starting gate was that her posture was a lot more relaxed. Lexa wasn’t stiff or awkward. This was reiterated to her since the brunette didn’t shuffle, fidget or shift her weight as they scrutinized each other.  It seemed that Lexa like her had taken to a change in hair. Rather than her signature loose ponytail, her hair hadn’t been tied or styled at all and fell back loose over her shoulders in slight waves. Clarke felt as if it accentuated the greenness of her eyes. There was no attempt from Lexa to hide the fact that she was studying Clarke. There was an awareness in Lexa’s expression that had been lacking during their previous time together. Clarke didn’t know what it was, but what she did know was that she wasn’t looking at an adorably awkward teen anymore. It had been an instinctually intelligent choice to refer to Lexa by name rather than her old ‘Green-Eyes’ teasing nickname. Clarke could see that there was a significant difference between who Green-Eyes was and who the Lexa in front of her was now. She was certain that the difference was in more than in just demeanor and expression. Clarke kept her eyes on the brunette’s face and waited patiently for Lexa to finish her analysis of her. Her green eyes started roaming back up her body, and taking her face in again before locking eyes.  No. This was not the same Lexa. There was no uncertainty staring back at her. The smile that slowly spread its way across her face was not strained or forced. What she did see though, was a reserved caution in her eyes despite the genuineness of the warm smile. The firm steadiness of Lexa’s voice was both pleasing and surprising to hear. “Clarke. You’re back.” Clarke kept her smile on her lips as she replied. “I am.” “I thought you were going for two years to go back to college?” Lexa asked. Clarke chuckled and stood up, leaning her bike against the side of the bleachers and sitting down and taking a drink from her water bottle. It seemed that Lexa was still just as curious as ever. Swallowing her water, she replied. “I did. But plans change. You can thank O for that.” “What did Ms Blake do?” Lexa asked further. Clarke thought about that night with the Blake siblings and was once again filled with affection towards them. She replied “Be the best friend anyone could ask for.” She watched Lexa take a moment to digest her non-answer as the brunette’s eyes went to the track that Anya was on. There was a note of pride in Lexa’s voice when she said, “You didn’t let me win, the first two races.” “No, I didn’t. You’ve gotten so much better.” Clarke laughed genuinely. Lexa’s eyes darted back to her. “I haven’t been able to train or race properly lately.” She sympathised. Clarke had felt like she had been missing out too without the track, and revealed. “Me neither. This is my first time on a track since we raced that night.” “Why did you throw that last race just now?” Lexa asked, this time the question wasn’t indignant or flared with irritation. It was simple curiosity. Clarke repeated her words from what seemed like so long ago. But this time the meaning and the tone she said it in was different. “You are not my competition.” When she had first said those words to the brunette Clarke had known that Lexa had been trying to prove a point to her. She didn’t know what that point was, but it had been important to the brunette; Clarke had meant that she wasn’t Lexa’s opposition and that the night hadn’t truly been about racing on the track. The night had been a symbolism to Lexa. Something personal that only she could see. And Clarke had no interest in fighting a personal war with her, especially since she had always been on the brunettes side. This time when she said those words, it was partially to reiterate her previous meaning, but it was also to express the fondness and her pleasure at seeing Lexa again. It had been fitting to create parallels between the two different races.  Clarke honestly didn’t expect to get any type of acknowledgement with her hidden meaning behind the words. Lexa didn’t get it then and she knew she gave no reference for Lexa to get it now. So when a flash of understanding crossed the brunette’s face and Lexa gave a nod of her head in acceptance Clarke was taken aback, and suddenly she was the one feeling awkward out of the two and she broke their eye contact and leaned forward to watch Anya again. Arkadia was home and so was everybody in it. She truly was grateful to be back home. Clarke turned her head to see that Lexa was now watching Anya too. It really did take her by surprise to see a type of calmness in the young woman. There was still that acceptance in her. But this acceptance seemed to be different. It wasn’t the same resigned passiveness. This in acceptance appeared to be an awareness in herself and around herself. Lexa slowly turned her head to face her and seemed surprised to find Clarke looking at her. Clarke grinned, the brunette was still an open book. “Are you back for good?” Lexa asked. She nodded and asked her own question. “Yeah. I’m back for good. How have you been?” “I’ve been well.” the brunette replied. It made Clarke smirk. It was a non-answer of Lexa’s own. The younger woman bit her lip and said, “You look different.” She imagined she did look different, she had not been too kind to herself over the course of the last 8-9 months and that was barring her now red hair. She drew her smirk wider and she raised a brow to deflect, “Different? Are you saying I look old?” She revelled in the familiar fluster that overtook Lexa.  “No! You look weird with red hair, I mean you look well! I just mean you’re different! You’ve changed!” The brunette spluttered out. Clarke laughed, “Relax. I’m screwing with you.” The young woman rolled her eyes and glared, swinging her hips to bump Clarke.  “Bitch.” It was said good naturedly. Clarke’s smirk morphed into a full blown grin at another change revealing itself. No doubt the ‘bitch’ comment was an influence by Raven or Anya. This was too great. Lexa’s learned to take and dish out humour. She liked this new Lexa. She couldn’t help but soften her smile from her exaggerated grin and replied with her tone to match, “So have you Lexa.” The brunette gave her a perplexed look before she smiled back and pulled out her phone, to look at it before returning her gaze to Clarke. “I need to go home and shower. My shift starts soon.” That surprised her. Lexa had found employment so soon? “It was good to see you again Lexa.” Clarke said honestly. The young woman gave her a soft smile and replied. “Same Clarke.” She watched Lexa turn around and get on her bike securing her helmet and goggles. “Hey Lexa?” She called out. Lexa looked at her, and replied with the helmet muffling her somewhat “Yes, Clarke?” “Wanna catch up sometime?” She asked. Lexa gave her a thumbs up and Clarke watched her ride out of the club’s gates. She meant it. It really had been good to see her again. She also couldn’t help but laugh at the cheeky thumbs up that had been shot her way. Clarke donned her helmet, gloves and goggles and rode over to the starting gate. Where Anya was resting on her bike and greeted her, “Anya Foresterr.” “Clarke.” the younger blonde acknowledged without any enthusiasm or surprise, causing her to snicker. Lexa had changed a lot. Anya hadn’t changed much at all. Knowing that unlike her since Anya wasn’t wearing goggles the younger blonde couldn’t see her eyes, she tilted her voice and exaggerated her cheerfulness. “Hi!” “Hi” Anya grunted. Clarke snorted in growing amusement. Yep. There are some things that just never change. “Wanna do a lap with me before I head out? Lexa’s already left. Said she had work soon” She said. Anya wasn’t speaking loudly but Clarke swore she heard a few F-bombs and something about sleep and being abandoned here. What the younger woman did say loud and clearly was “Fine.” Clarke let Anya stay ahead so that she could watch her technique and style. It was obvious that Anya didn’t take racing nearly as seriously as Lexa did despite her competitive attitude. When they finished and Clarke was locking the club's gates up she looked at Anya and said jokingly. “If it makes you feel better. My best friend abandoned me too. Told her I was taking a shower and when I came out she and her car were gone!” Anya however didn’t seem to share amusement for their common situation and looked at her levelly saying. “Bye.” and rode off without waiting for a reply. When Clarke arrived at the Blake’s, she found O’s car in the driveway and Bellamy playing the game console with work spread out all over the coffee table. She announced loudly making sure that O could hear her from wherever she was. “Bell, you’re my new best friend forever! O’s fired, she ditched me at the track when I was in the shower and I had to ride all the way back on my own!” “Suck it up Princess, besides Woods was there! I bet you talked to her!” Octavia defended herself. Bellamy rolled his eyes. “She has a point.” “Pfft. I’m trying to be indignant here.” Clarke said pouting. “Whatever, I need another shower. I stink.” When she finished her shower, Clarke looked around to see if there was anything that needed to be done. She knew that the three of them never kept score of who owed what, but still she went out of her way to do the housework and chores since they were letting her stay here rent free; and also because Clarke now had more time than they did since they worked and she didn’t. She reheated some precooked food in the microwave and popped some beers out for them when her female friend surprised her. “So how is Woods?” Clarke never got the impression that O cared about Lexa in any way other than extension because Clarke herself cared about the younger brunette. “She seems good. Didn’t say much about herself.” She replied. O nodded, “She never did.” Clarke disagreed. Lexa spoke a lot about herself as a person and had shared her thoughts frequently. She just hadn’t talked a lot about the events in her life. She knew that O wouldn’t get it; so she redirected conversation, turning to Bellamy she smirked and said, “Work tomorrow. Yay?!” “Fuck off.” Bellamy grunted.  Clarke grinned. Bellamy had two double periods to teach. Fun days. “Well, how about you study for me and I’ll go to work for you? You know, I’ll save the kid’s sleeping habits since they always fall asleep with you.” The man stared at her deadpan before shoving his beer in her direction. “Suck on this and shut up.” She and O both cackled. Not for the first time in the last three weeks the overwhelming appreciation and love she had for these two flared up. She may have teased Costia, Raven and Anya about being the T.T.T but her, O and Bellamy were the original T.T.T. Lexa wasn’t quite sure what she expected when she arrived at the address that Clarke had given her. She could see from the outside that this house was much bigger than Clarke’s previous house had been with a garage. Clarke had offered to meet up with her at a place of Lexa’s choosing but the brunette had wanted it to be in a more personalised location. She wasn’t sure what the older woman’s game was, but Lexa was feeling cautious and wanted to test the waters with her. Lexa was nervous when she rang the doorbell, and while she waited for the door to be answered she observed the state of the yard. The lush grass was well cared for, beautifully green and cut short. There were flowering shrubs lined up along the inside of the fence line with a couple of shade trees here and there. She heard the sound of the doorknob turning and faced the door again. Clarke greeted her with a smile. The more reserved genuine smile that she had seen so rarely in the past. It was what she called Clarke’s Personal Smile. “Hi Lexa, come on in.” Lexa smiled back and followed her inside. The interior in this place was much different from Clarke’s old place. This house’s decor was a lot less personal. There were no personal photos but instead artwork hung up. There were few personal details at all of the person who lived here. She noted a game console that she hadn’t seen before in the TV unit. It wasn’t an XBox or a Playstation. Clarke must have caught on to her puzzlement because her voice rang out, “That’s a Nintendo 64.” “I didn’t take you for the gaming type?” Lexa said, turning to face her. The brunette wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to Clarke’s red hair, or her overall appearance for that matter. It seemed to her that Clarke had lost weight, and she appeared slightly more gaunt than before, and while her eyes were still bright there was a tiredness in them that didn’t used to be there. The older woman arched a brow and the twinkle returned to her eyes as she responded for old times sake in that same teasing tone, “Are you asking me or telling me?” It really didn’t seem that long ago that the brunette probably would have been flustered and embarrassed by this behaviour that had seemed so boldly direct. But none of those old reactions came to the surface and instead she rolled her eyes and responded, “It was a statement Clarke.” Clarke didn’t reply right away causing her to glance at the woman and found her biting her lip gazing at her steadily. Not sure what to make of this the brunette arched a brow at her and cleared her throat causing Clarke to jerk out of whatever thoughts she was having. “Beer?” Clarke asked her. She nodded. It seemed both of them could use a bit of a relaxer. The redhead gestured to the table for her to sit at as went to get the beverages. “I don’t really game, It’s O and Bell’s. This is their house.” Clarke clarified. The brunette recalled the woman’s statement about O being the best friend anyone could ask for. They both took a sip of their beer and continued to check each other out. Eyes roaming each other's familiar features. Lexa couldn’t help but make the analysis that they were sizing each other out. Putting their feelers out so to speak before choosing how to proceed next. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just uncertain. Lexa had noticed rather quickly during their interaction at the track that this Clarke, was not the same confident woman. The behaviour that she had once perceived as baffling extrovertism and a happy go lucky attitude had seemed forced, and overcompensated when they reunited. The brunette was getting impatient with their mental game they seemed to be playing. She wondered if she asked the question if Clarke would answer honestly or deflect. After all, there were no reasons for boundaries anymore right? She swallowed. “Why did you ask if we could catch up?” Clarke’s answer was immediate. “I meant what I said. I wanted to see if we could catch up. It’s been a while.” Lexa leaned back in her chair thinking about the answer. Thinking about their previous interactions before Clarke left. She questioned the truth of the statement. Even at the track when she asked about her return the answer had been vague and evasive. Lexa was positive Clarke had told her the truth. But it had been a truth that had very little meaning or reference for Lexa to have any real information or insight. Lexa decided to test the other woman’s answer. Locking her eyes with Clarke she agreed, “It has been awhile.” Then she firmly asked, “So what happened at college?” Clarke leaned back in her own chair, her blue eyes appraising her and she reached for her beer finishing it off without breaking eye contact. Clarke put the bottle down and crossed her arms over her chest as she frowned recognising Lexa’s challenge. The brunette in that moment could not comprehend how the woman before her was the same woman managed to sit down in an hour meeting with the ever calm and stoic Indra and also come up with a solution to the financial issues of Lexa racing or how she had been able to manage a classroom of thirty cheeky teens daily with endless patience and even engaging in their antics. The woman in front of her did not want to be in this situation right now and there were no signs that Clarke was going to answer. There were no signs of anything as she sat there as still as a statue watching her with her arms crossed still and the frown on her lips. Lexa felt her irritation flare up and she clenched her jaw. She was not going to have a repeat of last time with her. If they were going to be acquaintances or friends. It wasn’t going to be one sided again. “Clarke?” She prompted. Blue eyes averted to somewhere over Lexa’s shoulders and she replied in a quiet but clipped tone, “I planned to go back to college so I could work with early years children. Preschoolers or daycare. It didn’t work out in Polis. I’m finishing up the rest of my units here externally.” The challenge had been met with bare minimum requirements and Lexa gestured to the empty beer bottle in front of Clarke and offered “Another?” as if it were polite to offer her host, the hosts’ own beverage. Clarke though, didn’t seem to care and she nodded. Lexa did the honours, retrieving one beer from the fridge for her. Handing the beer to the now redhead she decided on asking something she thought was a little less invasive. “You have a new bike. What happened to your old one?” The woman snorted, “I fell over and cracked the frame. So I stripped it down and built my new one.” The brunette noted the quickness in this answer. She wasn’t sure how to navigate this interaction. She didn’t need to when Clarke asked her own question, “I heard you were with Costia? I haven’t seen her around.” This time it was Lexa who eyed Clarke contemplating her answer. It’s not that Lexa really cared whether or not she knew what happened, nor did she feel as if she were talking behind Costia’s back since Clarke was never invested in Costia in any way.  It was more Clarke’s hesitancy to answer her question that caused Lexa's own hesitation to answer the woman’s question. Lexa gritted her teeth. One of them had to show some willingness. There was no reason she couldn’t be the one to do it first.  Lexa sighed, “Yeah, it was sort of funny. She practically had to slap me in the face to get it to happen.” She heard the redhead snort in amusement, “No doubt.” “She went to college too.” Lexa continued, “Costia didn’t want to come back here. She changed, like Mount Weather University opened up a whole new world for her.” The brunette hesitated, even though Costia had denied this she also felt that there was at least a small factor with what she said next. “We never slept together. She said it was ok. It didn’t feel like it was ok. What about your girlfriend? I remember I called you and she woke you up.” This time Clarke’s snort was not one of amusement. “Please. She wasn’t my girlfriend. She was nice. Don’t get me wrong. But not my girlfriend” Now Lexa was confused, “So what was she then?” The woman shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, and answered simply and factually. “Around. Funny. Human.” Lexa didn’t get it. She knew that they slept together but Clarke was denying any sort of relationship with this mystery woman. The redhead leaned forward, and lifted her left hand so that its fingers sat wrapped around her beer bottle. “So you mentioned you work now huh? Wanna tell me about it?” Lexa leaned back this time as she analysed the situation between them. They were playing tug-o-war with information. It was easy to see. Clarke being the more reluctant one of the two of them. The brunette really didn’t have much issue speaking to her. But there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind that was cautioning her from sharing more than necessary with Clarke. It didn’t have anything to do with trust. She did trust Clarke. But it was something to do with the reluctance on Clarke’s side. She decided on an answer. “It was my first day, the day we saw each other at the track. I work at The Shack with Titus.” That reserved but genuine smile crossed Clarke’s expression again as she asked “Happy there so far?” “Yeah, it’s pretty neat.” She replied. Then asked her own question. “How long have you been here with Ms Blake and Mr Blake?” “Too long.” Despite the words, there was a fondness in the woman’s tone. Lexa kicked her under the table with her foot and prompted, “You know what I mean.” Clarke rolled her eyes, “A few weeks. Wow Lexa, I leave for a few months and you’ve learned the power of physical persuasion.” The brunette raised a brow, “Have you always been this much of a drama queen? Or was I just oblivious?” Instantly Lexa knew she put her foot in her mouth, and without missing a beat Clarke quipped. “That’s an easy one. You’re just oblivious.” Lexa looked out of one of the windows. Something was gnawing at her and it wouldn’t settle down unless there was a resolution. She wondered if she would be giving too much power to the woman across from her if she confronted it. Then decided it didn’t matter. There wouldn’t be any resolution if she didn’t confront it. “Clarke?” She asked seriously. “Lexa?” The tone was teasing. She hesitated, “Can I tell you something?” This time the tone responding was serious but without hesitation, and Lexa believed the truth in the response. “You can tell me anything.” Lexa removed her gaze from the window and locked eyes with Clarke. She wanted to see the woman’s reaction to her next statement. “I’m not a kid anymore and you’re not my teacher anymore right?” The Clarke’s brows furrowed in confusion, but there didn’t appear to be any disagreement with the facts of the question. Cautiously Clarke confirmed, “That’s right..?” The brunette bit her lip, unsure how to articulate what she wanted to get at. “Do you want us to be friends?” “Of course. I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t.” The answer was instantaneous and it pleased her. Lexa hoped Clarke’s next response would please her because it would be what she would use to decide if she wanted to be Clarke’s friend.  She swallowed before saying, “Then we need to be the same.” The expression of confusion grew bigger on the redhead's face. “What?” “You know everything about me Clarke, and the very first question I ask about you, to see how you are, it ended up in a staring contest and a bare minimum answer. If you say I’m not a kid. Then I need you to know that you’re not just my friend. I’m also your friend.” Lexa explained setting her standard of expectation. She really didn’t want to be blindsided again. Lexa watched Clarke’s eyes glaze over and noted in her peripheral vision that the woman had begun spinning the beer in her hand as she digested what had been said. Lexa was nervous as she waited but she was also serious. If it wasn’t a two way thing then Lexa wanted no part of this. She saw the moment that Clarke left the thoughts of her own head as clarity filled her eyes and the bottle stopped spinning.  “You think because I don’t talk about myself that I still think of you as my student?” The redhead asked. Lexa didn’t hesitate in her own honest response. “I don’t know what to think. All I know is that it’s not right.” Clarke’s voice seemed far away, similar to Costia’s when her ex-girlfriend had mentioned her new friends at Mount Weather the few times she did, “It’s not because I think of you as my student or that I think you’re still a kid. Jeez, Lexa it took less than 30 seconds after I saw you again to know that. I just don’t like talking about myself at all.” The brunette still felt as if she were missing something. Because without considering any sort of filter she pointed out. “But you talk to Ms Blake and Mr Blake.” Clarke nodded, but it was forced as she reasoned. “Of course. I’ve known them since I was like seven. They’re more like family than they are friends.” “What about your other friends?” Lexa asked. The answer was growled out. “I don’t have any other friends Lexa.” She really, really didn’t understand the woman in front of her.  What she did know was that she had never heard or seen Clarke this uncomfortable before. What she did recognise was that for today’s visit, she had gotten her first true and big glimpse of who the woman across from her really was. “Can you promise to try? Just little things?” The brunette willing to accept a compromise as opposed to the original ultimatum she had given.  Lexa figured if she gave it time she would find the answer to whatever understanding it was that she seemed to be lacking about Clarke. Unreasonably Lexa was filled with relief when blue troubled eyes remained on hers and the commitment was made. “I promise.” She went over the doubles rotating in the air landing the 360 and pedalled to build up more speed, and going up the step up she twisted the handlebars as far as her brake cables would let her before rotating them back to normal position to perform an X-Up and landing.  Clarke revelled in the ache of her legs and the burn in her lungs as she physically pushed herself. Freestyle BMX was more Octavia’s specialty but she didn’t mind dabbling in the challenge of it especially when she was wanting to avoid something.  She went over the step down not bothering to do anything special on it and tried to steady her breathing as she approached the tabletop, Clarke picked up more speed and while she was in the air spun both her, and her bike and she flipped her right leg over the frame so both her legs were on the same side to perform a  180 Can Can. But when she went to return her foot to its pedal she mispositioned and went crashing into the dirt knocking the breath out of her as she landed on her front as the bike skidded a meter or so away from her. Clarke embraced the shock of it and rolled onto her back and spread her limbs out like a starfish, so that she was facing the sky and made no further effort to move as she caught her breath. It was a beautiful clear day with a few clouds breaking up the blue sky. She closed her eyes laying there in the middle of the track by herself waiting for the pain of the impact to fade away. Moments like these reminded her she was still alive. Moments like these were more preferable than other more intimate moments that she did not want to come anywhere near. She cleared her mind allowing a blankness to overtake her as she focused on physical sensations her body was recovering from. But it didn’t last long because she heard the sound of heavy footsteps quickly getting louder and closer. Her blue eyes opened just in time to see Lexa’s silhouette block out her view of the sky.  Well, speaking of unwanted intimacy.  “Clarke?” Lexa asked. She was a bit off balance at the concern she heard in the brunette's voice. “Hi Lexa, I was just taking a dirt nap.” She explained allowing herself to smirk so that it could bleed through her tone. “It’s not very nice since the ground is rock hard. What are you doing here?” “I always come here in the mornings, since my hours at work don’t let me race or train in the afternoons.” It seemed that Lexa was not amused. She still made no effort to get up. In all honesty Clarke didn’t want to get up. So she didn’t so much as move a muscle. Lexa’s silhouette removed itself from her vision. It really was such a beautiful day out. She heard movement off to her left but made no effort to see what the brunette was doing. “Your chain came off your bike.” The brunette informed her. Clarke’s care factor about that was zero. It was an easy fix and she didn’t even need any tools for it. Still, there was always time for a laugh. “Yeah. I came off my bike too. It’s a temperamental thing, that is.” The pain in her body had receded. There really was no reason to continue laying here. It seemed that Lexa was thinking along the same lines because she ignored her comment and asked, “I saw. Are you alright? Can you get up? It’s kind of hot out here.” Rather than answering she got to her feet and glanced in the direction she had seen her bike go. Lexa was holding it upright watching her and Clarke was grateful that her helmet and goggles shielded her from those observant eyes. She saw beads of sweat run down the side of the brunette's face and took pity on her. Obviously the younger woman was not going to leave the track unless she did. “Yep, let’s get some shade before we get you sweating like a shroom.” It was only when she put her full weight on her right leg that she felt a sharp pain. Clarke bent down and pulled up the pant leg. There was a large scrape on the outside of her calf. She quickly looked at Lexa to see if the brunette had spotted it. She had. Clarke pulled her pant leg over it and took her bike from her and said “Thanks.” They didn’t say anything on their way off the track and Clarke was both bothered and unbothered by this. Clarke really wasn’t sure how to act around her since they last saw each other at the house. It was the notion of walking over thin ice. It was a point of pride for Clarke to know how to handle people. She was not used to being the one being handled, and not saying anything delayed the opportunity for it to happen again. She sat down in a shaded chair. Lexa though, continued to keep walking and Clarke removed her goggles, helmet and gloves and leaned back closing her eyes again filling it with calming blankness. She was not surprised when she felt hands on her right leg and the pant leg being gently rolled up. What Clarke did feel was guilt. She had made no effort to contact the woman in front of her after they had their talk and Lexa had not made a move either. Yet here she was, taking care of her. Clarke felt herself relax under the sensation of the stinging from the wipes Lexa used to clean her wound. “Clarke?” Lexa’s soft voice called to her, rediverting her attention. The brunette was far too serious for her comfort right now. She smirked, “Having fun down there? Nothing like a woman on her knees.” Her smirk grew wider as Lexa’s skin flushed a deep red in understanding. “Shut up.” The brunette replied, and Clarke did. She had accomplished what she wanted to. She closed her eyes again focusing on the physical feelings of Lexa’s work. When the pant leg was rolled back down she heard Lexa  take a deep breath. “I just wanted to say that you’re my friend and I care about you.” She snapped her eyes open, Lexa was not looking at her, but was leaning against the fence looking off into the distance. What Lexa had said was not uncertain or questioning. It was an acknowledgment. It was steady. It was a fact; and it was everything that made Clarke feel the opposite of those things. Clarke forced herself to her feet and leaned against the fence next to her. She said the only thing she could think of as an acknowledgement of her own.  “You still shine brightly.” “Can I ask you something that’s been confusing me?” Lexa asked. Oh no. The last time she asked this Clarke had been backed into a corner. But she couldn’t deny the request. “Of course.” Green eyes locked on to hers. “You said you didn’t have a girlfriend. But you were sleeping with her.” Clarke raised a brow, “We are not having this conversation. I have no interest in teaching you about the wonders of sex.” Lexa huffed. “Be serious, I was just wondering how you can sleep with someone that you don’t care about. You’re the only person I know who does it so that’s why I’m asking you.” “It’s a normal thing. A lot of people do it.” She answered. The brunette's eyes narrowed. “I’m not asking about a lot of people. I’m asking about you .” She couldn’t stop the frown from forming on her face. Lexa wasn’t judging her. She knew that. She didn’t think that Lexa had a mean bone in her body. Clarke had no doubt that this was pure curiosity. “The same way I can drink with strangers in a bar.” She decided on answering with. “That’s not an answer Clarke, if you don’t want to answer just tell me. It’s better than an answer that isn’t really an answer.” Lexa said with her own irritation flashing through. Clarke took a breath and looked at the dusty track. She wasn’t doing a good job of being Lexa’s friend despite her promise. She relented, and replied quietly. “Because it’s physical.” “Do you like physical?” Lexa followed up with. She nodded and couldn’t help but drum her fingers on top of the fence. She was glad there were no further questions or comments. What did happen though was a hand was placed on her shoulder and it applied pressure so that she would turn around. Clarke followed the movement until the pressure stopped when she faced the brunette. Lexa’s brows were creased and there was a frown on her lips but her eyes were watching her for something. Lexa took a step closer into her personal space. Clarke took a step back instinctually. Lexa side stepped so Clarke had to turn to continue to face her. The brunette took another step closer, and Clarke was unable to step away since now the fence was at her back. “What are you doing?” She couldn’t help but ask. Lexa murmured “I want to see something.” “See what?” She asked, Lexa was too close to her. Arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her close and they were pressed against each other. She was hugging her. This was not a sexual hug. It was a simple press with her arms encasing her. Lexa’s voice whispered in her ear. “Seeing if you like physical.” No, Clarke didn’t like this physical. She didn’t even hug Bellamy or Octavia. In a tight voice she said to the brunette. “I need to go.” Lexa immediately let go of her and took a few steps back. Clarke had the feeling that those green eyes were staring into her soul. She forced a smile, “You should come by sometime if you want. We can have a beer again.” Despite her discomfort she genuinely meant the invitation. Yeah, they could have a beer again and there was the hopeful bonus that both if not at least one of the Blake siblings would be there too. The brunette nodded in agreement. “Take care Lexa.” She said. “Take care Clarke.” Lexa echoed. Clarke went to her bike putting the chain back into place and rode out of there. It was only when the wind blew hair into her face that she realised she had forgotten her helmet and goggles in her rush to leave the track. Clarke refused to turn around and get them. It had been over a week since Clarke had left her standing in the track club as if Lexa had burned her. Lexa ended up putting the other woman’s gloves, goggles and helmet in the small office for her. Clarke never returned for them. Clarke hadn’t been seen at the track at all according to the officials. So by Thursday, when she and Anya had done some training and work around the track, Lexa took Clarke’s items home with her. She had booked in for a tattoo appointment after that but figured she would drop the things off to her.  What she hadn’t realised or been smart enough to enquire about was how long the tattooing would take. Which happened to be a good portion of the remaining day. When she had exited the parlour it was getting a little dark out and she was sore and aching from the process, although the salve they rubbed on it assisted in the lingering pain. “Keep it clean.” they told her. So she guessed she wouldn’t be riding for a week or so, and had sent her home with salve to put on daily to assist in the healing. Indra came to pick her up, and only raised a brow when Lexa had requested to be dropped off at the Blake’s address. Bellamy answered the door with surprise on his face. “Hi Lexa, here to see Clarke? Come on in.” “Hello, Mr Blake.” Lexa greeted. Even though the Blake siblings weren’t her teacher anymore it was hard to not refer to them as Ms or Mr since that’s how she had always addressed them. She saw Ms Blake on the sofa playing that Nintendo 64 which the woman paused when she saw Lexa enter the room. “Woods, Clarke’s in her room. Good luck.” She said. Good luck? Why would she need good luck to give Clarke her things in her room? Mr Blake’s voice came from close behind her to explain, “She’s been antisocial and has holed up in her room for days now.” “Antisocial?!” Ms Blake butted in, “Princess Buttercup flipped me off and told me to leave her alone when I tried to drag her out for dinner the night before last.” “At least she acknowledged you.” Mr Blake fired back, “Last night she pretended I was like the Invisible Man and completely ignored me!” “Please, I’m her best friend. Of course she wouldn’t ignore me.” The woman replied with a raised brow. Her brother’s irritated voice rebuked back, “Hey, she’s my friend too.” Lexa’s eyes darted back and forth to each speaker before she decided this was stupid. It must have been one of their sibling things again. She slipped out of the room deciding she would have to find Clarke’s room herself as the sound of the Blake’s squabbling continued. She entered a hall that had two doors on the left, one at the end and a door on the right. It was clear which room was Clarke’s. There was only one door out of the four that was closed. The second door on the left. She stood in front of it biting her lip. It was impossible for her to imagine Clarke being moody and unpleasant. Even in the moments the woman had been uncomfortable, she had never been rude. Lexa knocked softly on the door and waited. After some time, she knocked again. There was still no answer. Slowly and quietly she turned the door knob. Clarke sitting at her desk with her back to the door, obviously doing some studying was the first thing the brunette saw. She had removed her red hair dye and was back to being blonde. Lexa preferred it much better because of its familiarity. Off to the right of the room was a queen size bed. There were no personal items on display in the room. Lexa fidgeted with the cuffs of the long sleeved she was wearing. She didn’t know how she was supposed to do in a situation like this. She decided on not moving any closer so that she wouldn’t startle her and cleared her throat to get the other woman’s attention. Clarke paused in the middle of her writing for a moment before resuming and ignored her. “Clarke?” She called out softly. The abruptness in which Clarke stood up from her chair caused the chair to fall over on its side. Blue eyes darted back and forth between her, the BMX things in her hand and the fallen chair. She didn’t look very good. Clarke had dark rings under her eyes and the tenseness in her body made Lexa think of a rubber band being pulled on too tightly. Despite this, Clarke’s mouth formed a smile. “Hello Lexa.” She bent over to pick up her chair. “I was just dropping these off. You left them at the track.” the brunette stated holding the items out to her. Blue eyes stared at them before returning to her face. She made no effort to retrieve them. “Thank you.” Lexa bit her lip again. She wasn’t a good conversation starter. At least she didn’t think she was, and she couldn’t figure Clarke out. In some ways it made her feel like she was when she first came to Arkadia. Misunderstanding and confused by everything and everyone around her. She had learned to read people much better. She had opened herself up to people and learned that touch and open conversation was an important thing. Yet those ‘rules’ didn’t seem to apply to the woman in front of her. In fact, it appeared as if those very things turned her into a caged animal.  She wasn’t sure how long they stood there staring at each other. Lexa desperately wished that Clarke would say something to give her an indication of what to do or what to say. Instead, the blonde kept that stiff smile on her lips and continued to maintain eye contact. Lexa wasn’t like Clarke. She hadn’t mastered the ease to pretend to feel or be something she wasn’t. She didn’t attempt to give a fake smile in return. What she did do though was slowly walk to the bed and placed Clarke’s things on it. “I’m sorry that I upset you the other day. I should have asked you before I hugged you.” She found herself saying.  Lexa may not have understood the why, but she did understand that it seemed to flip a switch in the blonde if it had her running off and according to the Blake’s; locking herself up in here for days. Clarke’s tone was quiet and far away when she dismissed the apology. Yet Lexa sensed that the dismissal was an honest one. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s normal to hug your friends.” “It wasn’t something you enjoyed.” She acknowledged. The blonde’s thin lips curled into a twisted smile. “I’m not normal.” Lexa shrugged and replied honestly “Neither am I. Anyway, I just wanted to say sorry you were upset.” She turned to leave the room when a hand grasped her wrist. She looked at it before looking at Clarke. The blonde was also looking where they were joined and when their eyes locked Lexa could see a frown on her face and a storm raging in those blues. “Clarke?” Lexa wasn’t really sure what she was asking. Was she asking Clarke if she was ok? Or what she was thinking? Or why she held onto her wrist? She guessed it made sense she was asking all of those things. Fingers loosened their grip, and Clarke’s voice came out hoarsely as she took a step back. “Sorry. Thank you for bringing my things back.” Lexa smiled at her. “Get some sleep. You look like shit.” The blonde nodded, “Thank you.” Lexa was pretty certain that Clarke wasn’t thanking her for saying she looked terrible. She didn’t know her underlying reasoning but she accepted all the same with a returning nod of her own. She felt Clarke’s eyes bore into her back when she left the room closing the door behind her. She turned to leave the hall and immediately noticed that a shadow on the floor in the room ahead of her she had to pass. She heard a light thump and some shuffling around and  peeked through the doorway and raised a brow at the sight before her. Mr Blake and Mr Blake were on the floor. Looking wide eyed up at her. “Get off me, you’re heavy.” Mr Blake complained to his sister giving her a shove. Ms Blake growled but did as her brother asked. Lexa decided she wasn’t even going to ask, and went to make for the front door saying, “Have a good night. Mr Blake, Ms Blake.” Ms Blake called out to her, “Woods, hold up.” Lexa turned around and waited to see what she wanted. Mr Blake said, “Want to stay for dinner? It’s ready and you’re here now anyway.” She looked to Ms Blake, the woman’s face was impassive but she was nodding her agreement. “I guess so.” Lexa agreed. It certainly beat going home and eating by herself. There was an awkwardness for Lexa at the table. The siblings seemed to be having a silent conversation with each other about her if the nods and gestures directed towards her meant anything. She chewed her food cautiously waiting to see what would happen. It seemed that Mr Blake was the chosen one as he addressed her. He was kind of cheesy about it too if her opinion on that mattered. “I’m Bellamy and this is my sister Octavia. We’re Clarke’s best friends.” She raised a brow at him and didn’t reply. “She already knows that dummy. Get to it.” His sister snapped. “I just meant she can actually call us by our names.” He defended. Lexa sighed. What is it with these two? She interrupted before any more potential sibling squabbling reoccured, “Only if you both call me Lexa.” Whatever it was that the Blake’s wanted to approach her about had been put on hold because the rest of dinner was finished in an uncomfortable silence. Octavia gestured with her head towards a door at Bellamy as she cleared the table. He responded with a nod and pulled out a 6 pack of beers out of the fridge smiling at Lexa. She vaguely questioned if they were all alcoholics. She stood to follow him through the door that led to their backyard. The sun had set and there were already a few starts in the sky. Bellamy sat down and cracked open two beers placing one on the table in front of an empty chair she was to obviously sit at. She watched as Bellamy chugged half of his beer. “Let me start by saying, I love Clarke, and I don’t say this to talk shit about her.” Lexa frowned, she wasn’t sure she liked where this conversation was heading. “Ok…” “Just be careful. Princess isn’t good with feelings at all. You might find being her friend will do you more harm than good.” He cautioned. She felt her frown deepen as she listened to him. His words didn’t make sense to her at all. He claimed he wasn’t talking meanly about the blonde but then critised the woman and warned her against being her friend. It angered her. Clarke’s actions since the day they met have been nothing but supportive and helpful towards her.  Lexa took a swig of her own beer and glared at him. “What exactly are you saying?” She asked. He polished off the rest of his beer and opened another and reiterated. “Clarke cares about you. But she’s not very good at actually caring or being cared about.” She snorted. “Bullshit. There’s no one I know more that cares more about people than Clarke except my mother.” “Really?” Bellamy challenged. She didn’t hesitate and reiterated “Really.” They both took another drink of their beers, and then he asked, “Do you know her favourite food, or what her mothers name is? Does she ask you for details about what’s going on in your life? Or what your favourite food is? Does she talk about how she feels about something or does she ask you about how you feel? Please explain to me why you came here to apologise for hugging her and yet she can fuck some random drunk without hesistation.” He really did have a point. But now she was angry. She growled, “Does it matter? She is who she is, and she’s a good person.” He let out a long sigh and he seemed to shrink into himself. His eyes expressed a sadness that Costia’s had the first time she left for Mount Weather, except his seemed to be deeper. “Lexa, I don’t say this because I think she’s a bad person. I say this so that you don’t get hurt.” “I have no reason to believe I’ll be hurt.” She said firmly. And yet his words swirled in her head. She had picked up on the fact he was referring to his own relationship with Clarke. Lexa did believe that Bellamy meant well and wasn’t trying to be mean. It was true that she knew nothing about Clarke except what Clarke showed her with her actions. Yet the brunette had no reason not to trust her. Her frustrations with Clarke did reflect the things that the man in front of her said. But the blonde has never done any true wrong by her. She opened her mouth without thinking and stated, “You’re in love with her.” His jaw clenched, and he refused to look at her. He dismissed her statement and replied, “It’s not that Clarke doesn’t do feelings. It’s that she isn’t driven by them. Just be careful.”  He got up leaving her there obviously done with the conversation since Lexa had called him out on his feelings for the woman and Lexa looked up to the stars feeling as if she had been slapped by his words. His understanding of Clarke filled in all the blanks that she had about the blonde. He had educated her on his best friend. It was true, the woman was supportive, she was funny, and engaging and helpful. While she invested into those actions Lexa suddenly understood she didn’t invest herself in it personally. Clarke had said that things didn’t work out in Polis. Her already vague words had reflected the events of that period but nothing on what she had thought or felt about it. She had said that she could sleep with someone she didn’t have feelings for because it was physical. Lexa had missed that what Clarke wasn’t saying was that she didn’t consider it a personal act simply because it was physical. The brunette frowned. If she could sleep with a stranger, then why couldn’t she handle a hug from a friend? She opened another beer out of the couple Bellamy left on the table. She watched the twinkling of the stars and challenged herself to find a pattern of the changing brightness of them. The brunette wasn’t consciously aware of the fact she ended up drinking all the beers or even how long she sat there for.  It was only when Lexa leaned back in the chair and she stiffened in discomfort as her newly tattooed back flared up in irritation that made her stand up and glance inside to find only a dimly lit room. She tested the backdoor. It was unlocked. She let herself in and saw a piece of paper on the table addressed to her stating she was welcome to crash on the couch for the night, but to lock the backdoor. She was buzzed. She blamed that for her next course of action as her feet took down the hall. Light shone through the gap below Clarke’s door. Lexa didn’t bother knocking when she opened the door and came in shutting it behind her. She needed to see something and she had an idea. Given Bellamy’s oversharing she knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea to share this with the woman in the room before doing it. Clarke’s head jerked up and turned to her. “Lexa? What are you still doing here?” The brunette swallowed nervously. “Bellamy asked me to stay for dinner. Then we had some beers. I guess I’m staying the night now.” The blonde’s mouth tilted into that smirk that Lexa was growing to dislike. She had picked up on Clarke’s habit to do this as an attempt to distract her. Clarke’s next words proved the point. “So you decide to come into my room at 11 at night? It’s a bit late to come into a woman’s room at this hour.” Lexa clenched her jaw and frowned, she had already committed herself to this by coming in here. So might as well finish it off. Though she wished that Clarke hadn’t said those words, even jokingly. “Lexa?” Clarke’s eyes expressed her concern. The brunette didn’t think she had ever felt vulnerable before. Or as if she were truly risking something. But in this moment she did. It didn’t matter, rewards were a product of risk. Her hands grasped the bottom of her shirt and she began to slide it over her torso and over her head leaving her in her bra and jeans. “Stop.” It was said firmly and she ignored it. She turned around so that her back tattoo was facing the blonde and she reached into her pocket to take the salve out, holding it up. Quietly she said, “I got it done today, it’s itching like crazy. Can you put some of this on it? I can’t reach.” She heard Clarke’s breath hitch and she stood there for what seemed like an achingly long time before a hand was placed on her shoulder blade, guiding her to sit on the chair and lean forward on the back rest. The salve was removed from her hand. Her hearing seemed to be super sensitive as the sound of the small jar opening seemed deafeningly loud. It was too late to flee from this course of action and she cursed herself for her impulsiveness. Cool and wet fingers started at the nape of her neck, gently rubbing the salve in and tracing her new ink. Despite the coolness of it, her skin burned where the fingers touched and rubbed her. The fingers were gentle and hesitant. She forced herself to take deep breaths as fingers made their way slowly down the spine of her back stopping periodically only to dip into the salve.  When she had finished with her back Lexa saw her kneel down on her right and the blonde’s  hand took her right arm and started to massage the cool gel onto her new ink there. Lexa wasn’t sure why but the expression on the woman’s face cut her to the core. Despite the gentle caress of Clarke’s fingers, her brows were furrowed deeply, and her jaw was clenched so tightly that Lexa could see the twitches it was causing in her firmly pursed lips. Blue eyes never once glanced up at her. When she finished and put the lid on the jar, Clarke tilted her head to look at her. Her expression hadn’t changed. Lexa felt her heart pounding faster at the blown black pupils. Clarke stood up and handed her the salve and still wordlessly leaned over to pick up her shirt to also give to her and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Lexa quickly put her shirt back on, and waited to see if Clarke would come back. She didn’t, and Bellamy’s words about being Clarke’s friend being potentially harmful to her was now a very real event.  She had taken a risk and paid for it. Lexa shut the roller doors to The Shack and activated the security alarm. Titus had decided to close early given that there were less than half a dozen youth in the center. She didn’t really mind. Saturday meant it was race night, and it had been too long since she had been able to race, her new tattoos be damned. She might get there a bit late but she had frustration to work out. She got home and left Indra a “Be safe at work.” note. She ate dinner and showered then rode to the track. Even though she rarely raced she trained more frequently than anyone else. She placed 2nd for the night. Lexa helped the officials close down the track and picked up the litter left that was laying around before offering to lock the gates for them since she wanted to shower before leaving. She thought she was the only one here, so she hadn’t dried herself off before finishing getting dressed in a loose shirt and some athletic shorts, anticipating it would be cooler for the ride home; she jumped out of her skin when Clarke’s voice echoed in the empty room. “Hello Lexa.” Despite her being startled she didn’t acknowledge the blonde. She didn’t understand her and she was angry at her. Nothing Lexa did seemed to reap any results. She shoved her dirty BMX clothes into her duffle bag. Clarke came into her side field of vision and took the duffle bag searching through it. Lexa thought she should probably be indignant about it, but figured there was a reason. She was angry at the blonde, but the woman's conscious actions were often beneficial. Hands found what they were looking for as the salve was located, and she was guided to the wall to lean up against and Clarke gestured for her to hold her arms up. She obeyed. However, the moment she felt her shirt being lifted up she snapped her arms down. “I have no reason to ask this, but trust me please.” Clarke’s quiet voice murmured. “I thought you were doing some type of self isolation.” She snarked back. Against her better judgement she lifted her arms up and allowed her shirt to be removed. She was hyper aware of the woman’s proximity to her. She could feel Clarke’s body heat and feel the faint puffs of her breath as it hit her skin. Wet fingers from the salve started to caress the nape of her neck. “It’s easy to care about someone.” The blonde said in the same tone ignoring her quip. “It’s terrifying to know when that feeling is reciprocated.” There was a pause in the caress since she was no doubt dipping her fingers into the salve again. Lexa closed her eyes. “There’s an unspoken trust you give someone when you care about them.” Clarke continued, and Lexa got the sense that the woman was saying it to herself as much as she was saying it to her. “Are you saying you care about me?” Lexa couldn’t help but ask. There was a pause in the motion of the fingers on her back before Clarke replied. “You shine brightly. But I was talking about you caring about me.” The brunette bit her lip as the understanding hit her. Clarke saying that she shone brightly was the blondes equivalent of saying she cares about her too. She sighed. Why couldn’t people ever say what they mean? “You used to teach, everyone trusted you.” Lexa pointed out. Apparently there was disagreement in that statement, “No, they trusted a teacher. They trusted my authority. They trusted the rules and expectations that a teacher is in a position of power; and that due to ethics they won’t take advantage of it. But they didn’t trust me .” “I trusted you.” She replied quietly. Clarke’s voice whispered and Lexa strained to hear her even with their close proximity. “I like that about you. Not that you trusted me. You shouldn’t trust me. But that no matter how you felt, you always gave it a go. When you decided something, you completely committed to it. You were ever the chameleon adapting successfully to everything. I really admire that.” Lexa wasn’t feeling particularly forgiving, and she really didn’t like the fact she couldn’t see Clarke’s body language. She turned around brushing against the blonde, but Clarke made no move to step back. Lexa had never been this close to her that she could actually see Clarke’s face but the knowledge that she found the blonde quite attractive hit her inappropriately then and there. It made her grit her teeth. “Why are you telling me this now?” Lexa asked more harshly than she intended. She really couldn’t make sense of it, because despite how gentle Clarke’s touch had been and the vulnerability of her voice, there was that same extreme tension in the woman. Her expression was hard. “Because I hurt you.” The blonde acknowledged. She did genuinely sound apologetic. “I didn’t mean to. But it doesn’t change that I did that. You deserve an explanation.” “So why did you?” She probed. Lexa didn’t mean it to inflict any punishment on the woman. But she did want to know. She felt naked under the roaming gaze of Clarke’s eyes that watched her face, it had nothing to do with the fact she was topless again. “Because you cared.” Clarke replied circling back to her earlier statement. “That kind of trust is terrifying, and I didn’t know how to handle it.” None of this made sense to her, and she was losing patience with it. She snapped “The Blake’s care about you. Bellamy loves you.” It was frightening how close they were to each other. Clarke continued to murmur “We’ve known each other almost our whole lives. There isn’t anything we don’t know about each other. Bellamy knows better than to do anything about it. It wouldn’t end well for him. But you, you didn’t know that.” Blue eyes stared into hers and Lexa swallowed, “What does that have to do with hugging and caring about you?” The blonde's hands came up on either side of her head as she leaned even closer, “It’s not the hugging. It was the intimacy that it represents.” The statement caused her to shiver. Now she was really confused. Wasn’t the position they were in literally and figuratively speaking considered intimate? Clarke was many things, but the woman wasn’t a liar. Still, there was something she wasn’t saying. She pushed Clarke back so that now the blonde was against the wall, and the expression the woman had on her face was the same as the one she had when she knocked over her chair. The brunette finally recognised the expression as fear. Lexa had enough of this. Clarke needed to say what she meant. She hissed to the woman “What is the difference between me and the Blakes?” The older woman swallowed and closed her eyes, she looked like she would have run out of there if it hadn’t been for how close she was to the blonde. She gave Clarke time when the woman took some deep breaths and then opened her eyes. Like the first time Lexa had her top off, Clarke’s pupils were blown, and her voice wavered answered, “We’re family. We know our boundaries, our expectations. You’re not family. You care about me… And that’s not one sided... I don’t know your expectations of me.” Lexa took a few steps back and spun around so she wasn’t facing her anymore running a hand through her hair. She didn’t get what the fuck Clarke was talking about, but she knew they were finally reaching the crutch of the issue. But Lexa was exhausted. She trained in the morning then worked before returning here to the track and now there was this. She looked up at Clarke as she paced to see blue eyes following her moments. She stalked over to the blonde getting in her face and demanded, “Stop beating around the bush Clarke. Fucking spit it out.” Clarke said nothing and Lexa glared at her. She’s done. Lexa snatched the salve out of the blonde's hands and went to her duffle bag shoving it in there. She heard the door leading to the outside open. Clarke’s voice floated through. “I don’t want to disappoint you, and I will disappoint you. Because I always disappoint.” The door closed. Lexa paused what she was doing as she thought about it. She had no frame of reference to understand what Clarke had said. Anya, Costia, Raven and herself never worried about disappointing each other. Costia had shown very little acknowledgement for when Lexa had felt dismissed and ignored by her; on the same token Lexa had tried to reason out Costia’s behaviour to avoid feeling disappointed. She understood Clarke’s words in theory. Clarke was afraid to hurt and disappoint Lexa because they both cared about each other. But she bet that Clarke was also afraid to be hurt and disappointed by her. Clarke believed that she would be the one to hurt Lexa because she said ‘always disappoint’, and yet she wasn’t sure how Clarke could disappoint her because it seemed to her that the blonde was making an issue where there was no issue to be found. Lexa remembered her very first day of Arkadia High before the bell rang. She had been reading her favourite book. The quote seemed so fucking appropriate now. Terry Goodkind’s Wizard’s First Rule. “People are stupid; given the proper motivation, almost anyone will believe almost anything. Because people are stupid, they will believe a lie because they want it to believe it’s true, or because they are afraid it might be true.” Clarke was full of shit.  Lexa was recklessly tired and angry. She stalked out of the showers then spotted the woman going through the gates walking her bike. She called her name out, and Clarke paused and stopped, waiting for her. When Lexa reached her she yanked the handlebars out of the blonde's grip and turned the bike around forcing Clarke to follow her. She leaned it against the bleachers, and stomped over to the woman. Her anger must have been apparent because Clarke retreated a few steps back and she stumbled, the brunette reached out to steady her but pushed her against the fence. Lexa repeated her earlier conclusion as she pushed the blondes head upwards and fumbled with Clarke’s helmet straps. “You’re full of shit. All that crap about disappointment and intimacy. What you made was a self fulfilling prophecy. There was no issue. There was no expectation. All I wanted was to know you.” She took the helmet off and continued on her tirade. “The only expectation I had from you was to know who you were. What you liked, what you didn’t like. To make you happy the way you’ve given me some happiness. I’m still learning about people. I thought that people liked hugs, I never had a hug until someone took the chance to hug me. You told me you liked physical. I wanted you to know you were cared about, most people like that. But not you. I don’t know the things about you that the Blake’s do. I don’t care if your favourite colour is bubblegum pink or if you know how to burn water. All I wanted was an insight to you . And you got so fucking insecure that you were afraid of something that hadn’t happened, and then made it happen!” Lexa saw her words register in Clarke. The change took her off balance because the blonde straightened up and there was a glint in her eyes. This time, Lexa found herself retreating and the woman following her. “Insight?” Clarke questioned, her voice was low and husky. “You want something personal from me Lexa? Come here then.” She couldn’t answer if she wanted to. Lexa found herself breathless at this change. She felt like prey. She didn’t stop, but did slow down allowing Clarke to enter her personal space pressing firmly against her. The blondes hands grasped the top of her thighs and moved their way up to her hips, staying there. For a moment the brunette thought she was going to kiss her. Instead the blonde moved her lips next to her ear. The husky voice paraphrased some of the things said earlier. “I think you’re beautiful. Both inside and out. I meant what I said Lexa, you’re relentless, adapting, so compassionate and so resilient. Those things stood out to me so much that day we raced again at the track. You were a completely different person. But then last time you hugged me and that scared me. It did. Because it had meaning when you did that. I didn’t know what that meant at the time. All I knew was that it would lead to something bigger.”  Clarke moved back so they could lock eyes. Lexa always considered the blonde to be reasonably in control of her demeanor. She saw no signs of that now as Clarke’s voice lowered and her tone became darker. “Then you came into my room and took your shirt off and asked me to see you, to touch you. I know that meant something to you too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so uncomfortable before. But you stayed and you put yourself out for me then Lexa. I’ve fucked lots of people. But I think I could have made love to you then. I wasn’t in a good state of mind. That’s why I left, before I did something both of us would regret. Now wouldn’t that have been disappointing?” Lexa swallowed. She wanted blunt truth. Now she’s gotten it. Clarke’s words had her heart racing. Her only frame of reference for something like this was Costia. Costia was sweet, passive and open. Yet they had never spoken about what they liked about each other. There was just an ease in being in each others company. She knew Costia liked her awkwardness but that was it. Clarke had always been complicated and unknown. But this Clarke was wild and unrestrained. It was irrational but Lexa was eager for more of this honest side of her.  Bellamy had been fucking wrong. Clarke could be driven by what she felt. Only when she was pushed. Lexa felt a rush of pride that she caused this. She raised her hands to cradle Clarke’s face. “That would have been disappointing.” She agreed. “But this wouldn’t be.” Lexa didn’t consider herself a reckless person. She was reckless in this moment and she closed the distance between them, kissing her. It wasn’t gentle or hesitant. It was fiery and demanding and didn’t it make her feel alive. Clarke had lost control. Completely. Emotionally and physically. It was the only coherent thought she had managed to have when Lexa’s mouth was on hers. The woman’s mouth didn’t ask permission. It demanded, it was taking, and all Clarke could do was submit. Teeth bit her bottom lip causing her to gasp and Lexa’s tongue entered her mouth. She needed some control back. She tightened one of her hands on the brunette’s waist and trailed her other hand up roughly up the sides brushing against the side of her breast and moving her hand between Lexa’s shoulder blades to press the woman impossibly closer to her causing a gasp of Lexa’s own. She removed her mouth and opened her eyes to stare into those bright green ones. Lexa looked as wild as she felt. Clarke could feel the brunette’s chest heaving with every breath against her. There was perspiration trailing down the side of her face and was keeping her eyes closed, denying Clarke any sort of insight to what the woman could be feeling or thinking in this moment.  Clarke removed her hands and took a step back so she could gather her bearings a bit. But it seemed that Lexa was having none of it, because green eyes snapped open and without missing a beat, she took a step closing the newly formed distance and once again denying Clarke of her intentions. “Don’t.” Was all Lexa said. Her voice was firm but calm even in the situation they were in. There were no signs of the anger or frustration or pleading that had been dominant in her tone a few minutes ago. Clarke found herself powerless to disobey. She didn’t try to create any distance again, and instead closed her eyes so she could focus on the sensations she was feeling and to calm her own breathing and her mind. Lexa’s voice reached her ears as it this time growled the same word, “Don’t.” A hand reached around the nape of her neck applying firm pressure that Clarke didn’t fight against and she leaned her head forwards opening her eyes. Lexa’s green ones were now open and watching her intently. All she could do was stare into Lexa’s eyes. There was a determination and fondness staring back at her. She wasn’t sure what her own eyes were saying to her. But it seemed that the brunette was not going to allow her to recover. So the blonde leaned forward just so that her nose was lightly touching the crook of Lexa’s neck and she breathed in her scent and surrendered to the brunette’s will. With one of Lexa’s hands on the nape of her neck, Lexa’s other took one of her own hands rubbing her thumb along her knuckles. Clarke’s instinct was to pull her hand away, but she didn’t so much as twitch. Right now she was completely Lexa’s. She didn’t bother to try and be aware of how much time was passing, and Lexa just continued to hold her that way silently. Eventually Lexa murmured “It’s getting late.” Clarke hummed in agreement. “If I let you go, you promise not to leave without me?” The brunette’s voice wavered and it stung Clarke. She nodded her head. “I don’t want to ride back.” “Me neither.” Lexa agreed. “I’m just going to get my duffle bag. I’ll be right back.” The blonde was released and she watched Lexa walk towards the showers. Clarke ran a hand through her own hair and looked around. She spotted her helmet and picked it up. She figured that while Lexa was getting her duffle bag then she should put their bikes into the utility shed for them to collect tomorrow. Lexa was sitting on the bleachers hunched over when she locked the utility shed up, and Clarke was overcome with worry the closer she got to her. The brunette’s shoulders were shaking and she could hear that she was crying. “Lexa?” She called out cautiously. The speed that Lexa had when she stood up and stomped over took her off guard.  The brunette hissed, “Clarke.” “What’s wrong?” She asked. Lexa pushed her. “You left. The uber is on its way.” Understanding dawned on her and she looked at the sky. It was overcast. There were no stars out tonight. “I’m sorry, I was just putting our bikes in the shed.” She said quietly. Clarke was amazed at the transformation of Lexa as they waited for the uber. Lexa had chased her from the showers with an anger that the blonde never thought she could possess and now she was back to being passive and quiet.  The blonde didn’t question it when the uber pulled up to the blakes and Lexa got out with her, she asked when they got inside. “Can I take a shower?” They ignored the three pairs of eyes that were O’s, Bell’s and Lincoln’s on the couch. Clarke nodded, she didn’t trust her voice right now. She didn’t trust herself period right now. She was tired. Lexa would need some clothes. She reached out to grab her hand and led her to her room finding a spare shirt and shorts for her. The brunette seemed to catch on that she needed silence because she never said a word. Just nodded her thanks. The blonde sat in her chair and leaned back closing her eyes when Lexa left the room. She forced her mind and feelings to calm down inside of her by focusing on the sound of the fan in her room, and when lips pressed against her brow she snapped her eyes open to see Lexa straightening herself and laying on one side of her bed. “I’m going for a shower too.” She said quietly. The brunette didn’t acknowledge her. She left the room closing the door quietly behind her. Clarke thought showers were good for the soul in a symbolic sense. She didn’t wash herself, instead just stood under the spray of the water taking in the impact of liquid against her skin. It was calming, refreshing and relaxing. She only left the shower when she used all the hot water. After she dried and dressed herself she went back to her room. She was tired. Her eyes darted to Lexa on her bed. She was sleeping on her stomach and all the tension from before had left the brunette’s face. The woman really was beautifully fearless. Clarke sat back down in her chair laying her arms on the desk and resting her head on them. She didn’t care where she slept. She just wanted to sleep. This was probably why when Lexa’s own exhausted voice called for her to ‘come here’ that Clarke wasn’t surprised the brunette hadn’t been asleep or that she didn’t object when Lexa’s hand bounced once on the space next to her. Clarke sighed, she just sat down. She didn’t want to get up. The hand patted the space again, and she obeyed the command. Lexa didn’t close the gap between them in the bed and she was facing away from her. Clarke couldn’t help herself. She moved Lexa’s hair over her shoulder and gently traced the newly done infinity tattoo at the nape of her neck that showed above the collar of the shirt. Lexa took a deep breath and Clarke removed her hand, turning over to also face away from her. Clarke woke up and rolled over to find herself in bed alone. The sound of Bellamy’s and O’s antics floated into the room. Lexa must have left the door open when she left. Either that or one of the Blake’s decided to be nosey and pop in and check on her. She didn’t know how she felt about Lexa not being here. She dragged herself out of bed and went to go hunt the kitchen for some breakfast. She was still so tired, she bumped into the corner of the wall that separated the kitchen causing O to announce. “Ladies and gentleman, Princess Graceful has arrived.” Clarke didn’t bother opening her eyes wider or looking around. She opened the fridge and pulled out a plum to eat and grumbled “Fuck off.” She didn’t bother sitting at the table to eat it. God she barely had enough energy to come out here and open her eyes properly. “That’s no way to talk in front of a lady.” Bell quipped. She growled back, “O’s not a lady she’s a she-demon.” It was Lincoln's voice that replied this time, “O’s not a lady, but she is.” Clarke sighed and rubbed her eyes before opening them. Lexa, O, Bellamy and Lincoln were all at the table with grins.  Lexa’s eyes sparkled and she greeted her in amusement “Morning Clarke.” “I liked you Linc.” She said. “But not anymore.” “What about me?” Lexa asked. Clarke turned her back to them, replied to the brunette. “Don’t jump on their band wagon. Ask me after coffee.” She felt completely awkward realising that Lexa was here. All of this was completely unknown territory. She really needed to get her bearings back. She placed her coffee she made on the table and began to clear the table of all the empty ones and began washing them. She jumped when Lexa leaned on the bench next to her. “Hi.” She said softly. “Slept well?” Lexa wasn’t smiling. There was a frown on her face and her green eyes seemed more contemplative than usual. “I know what you’re doing Clarke.” Lexa said very quietly. She took a step closer, Clarke didn’t know what to do. She was sure that the Blake’s were staring at them. “What am I doing?” She asked just as quietly back. The brunette murmured. “The same thing you’ve been trying to do since things calmed down last night.” “And what’s that?” She asked again. Lexa leaned extremely close. Clarke forced herself to stay where she was.  When Lexa’s lips pressed against her cheek, the next whispered words of a promise caused her to shiver both in fear and in anticipation. “Run away; and I’m not going to let you.” The brunette placed her now empty plate in the sink behind her and sauntered back to the table. Clarke saw O sporting a knowing smirk, and Bellamy had turned away so he wasn’t facing her. “O’s going to take me to get our bikes from the track.” Lexa said to her. That wasn’t a bad thing. She nodded. Lincoln went with them for a ride, leaving her there with Bellamy. “So Lexa huh?” He asked. She gritted her teeth. One, because she herself wasn’t sure of the answer, and two because he was the one asking her about it. “Maybe.” She replied. His voice sounded resigned, “Maybe in your book means ‘yes’ but you’re not happy about it. Reluctance is still acceptance Princess. Might as well get with the program. O and I have.” “We’re not having this conversation Bellamy.” She stated. He gave her a playful salute.  Fuck this.  She retreated to her room and pulled out a book to review a chapter. It was a stupid attempt. Lexa’s words left her rattled. Hell, the last two fucking weeks have left her rattled. Clarke couldn’t focus on the words in front of her. Her mind played Lexa’s declaration over and over again along with the memory of the brunette forcefully kissing her. Her mouth became dry. She felt hands on her shoulders kneading the muscles. Clarke didn’t need to look up to know it was Lexa. Lexa was the only person in the house who didn’t knock on her door or who ignored relentlessly pushed her. “Clarke?” Lexa asked. The brunette wanted to know if she was ok. Clarke didn’t have an answer. She was feeling that fire in herself again. What if..? She shook her head unable to let herself finish the thought and stood up, there must have been something in her posture that spoke loudly to Lexa because the brunette took a small step back and tucked a couple of strands behind her ear. No, Lexa definitely wasn’t the same person as Green-Eyes. In front of her stood a person of perseverance and intelligence. Clarke took a step closer to her. Lexa did not take a step back. Lexa took many risks with her, even after she warned her. It was only right she did the same. Or tried too. Clarke didn’t mean to sound so gruff. But she felt raw as she forced herself to say “My favourite colour is teal, I’ve never tried to burn water before and I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m around you.” The brunette's eyes widened in surprise and then she took a step towards her. Clarke couldn’t help the instinctual step back that she took and Lexa’s brow arched in response. She forced herself forward and she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved that the brunette didn’t kiss her. Lexa hugged her, this was not a sexual hug. This wasn’t the passive proximity hug that Lexa gave her the first time. It was simply a hug of affection. The brunette’s voice replied. “Thank you.” It wasn’t Lexa she didn’t trust. It was herself. She didn’t know what she was doing. But she hoped she wasn’t making a mistake that would be disastrous for both of them. Lexa had to go. She didn’t want to, but it was time for work. She chewed her lip as she watched Clarke. Her behaviour made Lexa think of a newly brought home kitten. Cautious and yet aware. Aware of her. Lexa recalled how difficult it was for herself to even attempt to tell a joke. The action itself was small and overall insignificant and yet the effort and discomfort that encompassed the action had been intense for her. So Lexa could recognise and appreciate the amount of effort it took for Clarke to share her favourite colour and for the blonde to admit how lost she was with her. Teacher Clarke, and Real Clarke were so completely different. She knew that she had to keep Clarke off balance. Her instinct told her that if she gave the blonde an inch she would take miles. The brunette sighed tiredly. She wondered if Clarke also recognised and appreciated Lexa’s own effort in this situation that also caused her to be kept off balance. Her own discomfort was enhanced due to being hyper aware that the Blake’s seemed to always be close by, as if Clarke and herself were live entertainment. She and Clarke were at the kitchen table. The Blake’s and Lincoln were at the outdoor table. It didn’t afford them any privacy since the backdoor was propped open, not blocking sound and view of each other. She thought Raven was nosey. She had nothing on the Blakes. “Clarke?” She called softly. The blonde’s head jerked up immediately, the smile that graced her lips was strained and it didn’t reach her eyes. Lexa ignored it and stood up holding her hand out to the blonde for her to take. Clarke looked at her hand then back to her eyes. Lexa could see when the course of action had been decided. A confident smirk and mischievousness crossed the blonde's face and she opened her mouth to say something that she never had the chance to, because with her other hand Lexa pressed a finger to her lips. Her attempt at not allowing Clarke to deflect was futile because despite the tension in Clarke’s face she could see when the woman’s eyes lit up as if Clarke knew something she didn’t. It turned out Clarke was right, because the blonde turned the tables around on her as she opened her mouth and sucked the tip of her finger making sure to swirl her tongue.  There was nothing sexual about the act. It was pure playfulness, and yet it had felt sexual to her. Lexa yanked her hand back and gasped, she was sure that she was blushing because of the heat she felt in her face. Clarke stood up of her own accord. That deflecting smirk more predominant than ever.  Lexa gritted her teeth. There was one thing that she had over Clarke, and that was her willingness to take risks. She meant what she said earlier. She wasn’t going to let Clarke run away. “What was that for?” She asked. Clarke smirk got bigger, “Did you like it?” “Irrelevant.” The brunette wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. This didn’t seem to deter the blonde, the amusement in her blue eyes let Lexa know that Clarke thought she had the upper hand as she murmured, “I think you did.” Work forgotten, Lexa mentally floundered. She knew Clarke was right. She was losing ground. The thought scared her. She could see how fear was a powerful motivation. But Lexa hasn’t been jaded by life experience the way Clarke had. Lexa was willing to place herself in uncomfortable situations. She did the only thing she could think of. She stepped closer into Clarke’s personal space and kissed her. It wasn’t the same demanding kiss they shared the night before. There was no tongue, and the kiss wasn’t hard. This was more controlled, it was just her nipping at the blonde’s lips; and Lexa revelled in Clarke’s own gasp. The blonde took a step back but Lexa moved with her.  She meant what she said. She wasn’t going to let Clarke run away.  She hoped though she wasn’t pushing Clarke too much or too fast. But this seemed to be working. It was the only thing she could see outside of screaming at the woman that got any results period.  Lexa broke the kiss and gave Clarke back her personal space. She could see how the kiss had left the woman reeling.  She pressed her advantage and asked, “What song can you relate to the most?” Clarke stared at her in disbelief. She guessed it came across as an odd question after being forced off guard that way. “Song I relate to the most?” She repeated obviously still trying to make sense of the question in relation to circumstance. Lexa shrugged, “Yeah. I like music.” “Not my favourite song, but the song I can relate to the most?” She reiterated the question once more. The brunette found herself irritated. Clarke was grounding herself again by buying time. Lexa was drawn to the blonde’s complexity. The blonde had called Lexa a chameleon but the brunette thought that that description was more suited to Clarke. Lexa both loved and hated Clarke’s ability to react and adapt to her surroundings appropriately and manipulatively at almost any given time. But right now that ability was testing her patience. She snapped, “Yes Clarke. Not your favourite song you like to listen to, but the song that speaks to you the most.” The blonde eyes hardened and Lexa waited. She wasn’t going to ask or fabricate an answer from her again. She waited to let Clarke make her own choice. Clarke’s voice was tight when she finally replied, “Tracy Chapman - Remember the Tinman” Huh. Lexa found it interesting that despite the woman’s own internal battle she often ended up choosing to be pliant to her. She made a mental note to look up the lyrics later. Lexa also learned something new about herself. She was a petty person. Because she couldn’t help but rub a little bit of salt into Clarke’s scratch of a wound for causing her frustration, by pressing a kiss to the side of her mouth and giving her own smirk as if to reward the woman for answering. Clarke scowled and Lexa ignored it feeling pleased with herself. She pulled her phone from her pocket messaging Titus that something had come up and she couldn’t make it. That was one of the joys of being a casual worker. No repercussions for not being able to work. She took note of Clarke stalking down the hall in her peripheral vision. Lexa looked turned around and saw Bellamy staring at her, and O giggling into Lincoln’s shoulder. Bellamy jerked his head towards the direction Clarke went in. He wanted her to go after Clarke. Something made her hesitate though. She’s pushed Clarke all day. Instinct told her not to follow the blonde. She ignored it, and did as Bellamy instructed. The blonde was standing in the middle of her room. Back towards the door and her head looking up the ceiling. She was taking deep breaths. “Clarke? Are you ok?” She asked Clarke spun around and Lexa felt her pulse race at the woman’s expression. She had that same untamed look in her eyes, she looked like a predator anticipating its prey. Lexa knew she was Clarke’s prey.  The thought sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her. “You think you’re so clever.” Clarke growled. Yes, yes she did if this is her affect on the blonde. She must have shown her smugness in some way because Clarke backed her against the wall, hands on either side of her head. The blonde didn’t kiss her or touch her, but there was a hungry gaze in those black eyes. “I can’t decide if I love how calmly persistent you are or if I hate it. It’s fucking with my head.” Clarke’s voice was rough. She smiled, she couldn’t help it. She thought This Clarke was the most attractive Clarke she’s seen of the woman; and everything about Lexa was very attracted to it. She preened at being the center of its attention. Instead of responding to both herself and the blonde, Lexa ducked underneath the arms and walked slowly to the desk, glancing at the books and open textbooks Clarke had been using to study and back to the blonde. She opened her mouth to speak honestly, “I don’t want to fuck with your head Clarke. I just want you to be you.” “What if I don’t know who I am?” The blonde asked, staring intently at her. The wildness had retreated. “Then we’ll find out together.” She said simply. The answer really was that simple to her. Clarke opted not to reply. “Do you read? Not for school but for fun?” Lexa asked. “No.” The fight seemed to have left the woman. “What about music?” Lexa asked with a follow up. She didn’t really care if Clarke liked to read or what kind of music she listened to. It was more she was trying to encourage a real equal conversation between them both no matter how significant or insignificant the topic was. Lexa figured it was better to start out small. She turned back to analyse Clarke’s handwriting.  She could recognise anywhere of course. But in this moment it spoke to her. It wasn’t loopy or slanted. At school her writing used proper grammar, spelling and syntax. Her personal writing was structured with blocked uppercase letters. She used bigger letters to indicate uppercase letters. Lexa thought it was a good reflection of Clarke. “I can listen to anything. But not Country.” The blonde replied. The response was measured. Clarke’s answer reflected her tolerance. Not her preference. Lexa flicked her eyes to the woman, she was leaning against the wall, her hands in her pockets. She wasn’t tense but there was discomfort. “I meant, what do you like to listen to?” She paraphrased. She knew Clarke understood what she meant. Lexa could see that Clarke was trying to think about her answer. She could wait patiently if the blonde was willing to try. Eventually there was an answer. “I guess it depends on my mood and what I’m doing, I don’t really like the 2010s music. I don’t really like rap. I listen to the 80s and 90s a fair bit. I don’t know specifically.” Clarke pulled out her phone frowning and unlocked it holding it out to her. “You can take a look if you want.” Lexa wasn’t sure. A phone could be too personal for some people. It held all sorts of things from personal photos and interactions. How is it that Clarke can offer that, but can’t speak or show the words? She took the phone from her. The wall paper was a group of people. All the widgets were not on the home page. Allowing a clear view of the photo. Lexa recognised a younger Clarke, her parents Octavia, Bellamy. There were two other people she didn’t know but had seen pictures of from photos on Clarke’s wall back at the house when they built her bike. She was too curious sometimes for her own good. Because she asked, “Who are they?” The blonde took the phone off of her and sat on the edge of the bed. Lexa sat next to each other, thigh next to thigh. “Finn and Wells.” Clarke answered, voice far away. “Where are they now?” She asked. She thought that Clarke might not answer for how long the silence stretched out. But eventually there was an answer as vague as it was. “With my father, Jake. Not here.” In the photo, Clarke was standing next to her mum. Arms wrapped around each other with. They looked close. Lexa knew otherwise from vague references from the woman. “What about your mother?” She enquired. The anger in the woman’s voice startled her, “Abby. She’s also not here.” Clarke had said she was relentless. She supposed she was because she just couldn’t stop asking questions. “So why do you have a picture as your wallpaper to remind yourself of them?” The woman’s next words completed Lexa’s understanding of her, and she felt sorrow at the lost opportunities Clarke had inflicted on herself. “It’s a smart thing to be reminded of the past and to not repeat its mistakes.” The brunette chewed her lip. She knew she had to say something. She did agree with the words only up to a certain extent. It seemed that Clarke lived by these words. Clarke spent so much time in the past that she ignored what was going on in the present. There was a significant difference between reflection and obsession with history. She rubbed her hand across Clarke’s blanket idly and said, “Maybe if you spend too much time looking behind you, you’ll miss where it is you’re wanting to go.” Lexa couldn’t relate to whatever had occurred for her parents, Wells and Finn to ‘not be here’. She hadn’t experienced any real sense of loss outside of Costia. She thought she might be pushing Clarke’s boundaries too far. But her reply to the blonde seemed logical to her. She found herself being pushed backwards and she allowed herself to lie on the bed, Clarke straddled her thighs leaning on her hands which had been placed on either side of her head. The expression and look on the blonde's face was intense. It was not wanting. It was searching. “What if I want you, but don’t know how to want you?” Clarke asked. Lexa’s heart raced at the admission. She reiterated her earlier words as calmly as she could. “Then we’ll find out together. But you have to look at me first.” Lexa had been going to the Blake’s every day she could. The length of her stay often depended on when she had work. Due to their hours more often than not, they weren’t at the house throughout the weekdays. The changes in Clarke had been subtle, the two of them had progressed to regular conversations and Lexa could share her day with the blonde about work, and in return Clarke whined about her studies and the Blake siblings. Physical intimacy was still a challenge for both of them in any sort of normal sense. Sure she still went out of her way to kiss Clarke when she could see things were getting too much for the blonde but the reasoning behind those kisses were becoming less frequent. Clarke had yet to make the first move to kiss her. It was relieving that the blonde didn’t impose in her comfort zone that way, but it was simultaneously frustrating.  Lexa ached for Clarke to actively show she cared willingly even if the action would cause the brunette some discomfort. Sometimes it felt like she was doing most of the work with very little return. Lexa may not have been wanting anything sexual with Costia but she never had any insecurity about whether or not she cared because even the few words Costia said to her had been more than enough. When the brunette let herself in through the Blake’s front door like she usually did, she was met with an endearing sight. Clarke had her portable bluetooth speaker on the table. It was playing a song that Lexa had never heard before. What was so endearing was that Clarke was cleaning the kitchen and singing along loudly completely unaware of her entrance. There was absolute fluidity in Clarke’s movements and no tension in her expression. For parts of the song that had no lyrics she whistled along to the melody and sometimes swayed to the beat of the song. It was not a fast beat song. It was a relaxing tempo.  The next song that played was just as relaxing. Lexa found herself leaning back against the table, enamoured by the sight of a free Clarke as she started singing the new lyrics. “ If I am right, if I can be constant and faithful you’ll find me. ” The blonde started looking around for something before she spotted her and froze. “Please, don’t stop.” Lexa asked quietly. Clarke missed the next lines of the lyrics and Lexa wasn’t surprised that the blonde stopped singing. Her eyes were back to having their normal intensity. With a serious expression Clarke went to her, she was in Lexa’s personal space keeping their eyes locked.  Clarke started singing the next line of lyrics quieter than before. “ What if you find a fault? ” The blonde raised her hand and the thumb brushed against her brow causing it to twitch. “ Between my purpose and my deeds? ” fingers traced her hair line and the thumb trailed down her cheek bone and explored the planes of her face. “ And deem me beyond salvation? ” She felt Clarke’s thumb trace her bottom lip slowly and Lexa couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. “ Judge me to be unworthy? ” The blonde's hand went lower to cup her jaw and then continued it’s exploration even further travelling across her clavicle before stopping and pressing the palm against her heart and keeping it there. “ Of your devotion. ” The song continued, but the woman's voice did not. Lexa could feel her heart pounding. Clarke probably did too. This was not a sexual situation. Clarke was not fondling her, her breathing was normal, her skin wasn’t flushed and there was no dilation in her pupils as serious blues stared into her eyes as if she were in a trance. Lexa found herself breathless and helpless. Her lower region pulsed. She was aroused. Lexa took a deep breath and Clarke removed her hand and took a step back, but the hand she removed stayed in front of her palm up in an invitation. The unprompted genuine intimacy from the blonde in this moment made Lexa tremble in her own fear and anticipation. She found it difficult to understand how she could feel such opposite emotions at the same time. She looked at the hand still held out to her and bit her lip. She accepted the invitation, placing her own hand in it. Clarke pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around her waist swaying them both to the music. What she found in the eyes that stared at her was breathtaking. It was acceptance. The blondes’ other hand had been placed on the top of her thigh and made its way slowly along hip and up past her stomach stopping at her ribcage and staying there. Lexa didn’t think there wasn’t a more appropriate time to kiss someone than this. But Clarke made no move. She wanted Clarke to make the move. Lexa was always giving their kisses. She wanted to be the one to be given a kiss for once. “Please. Why are you doing this?” Lexa asked. Lexa had meant why wouldn’t the blonde kiss her. Apparently that wasn’t how the woman had interpreted her question. Although the misunderstanding wasn’t a bad one. Clarke whispered, “Because you said we’ll find out together. You’ve waited and you’re still here.” The brunette couldn’t do anything except stare at Clarke’s lips. She repeated her question, “Please?” She didn’t know what she would do if it didn’t happen. But right now, it was a need for her; almost like being kissed by Clarke right now was some sort of reinforcement to free affection the blonde had given her moments before. A tongue wet the lips she was staring at making them stand out more. “Close your eyes.” The woman said softly. She did. She felt the blondes' hands remove themselves from her, and Lexa felt the lump in her throat grow larger. Why wouldn’t Clarke do anything? Was this Clarke’s limit? “Clarke?” She called out, there was no stopping the tremors in her voice. “Do you trust me?” Clarke asked. Right now? She didn’t know. She trusted Clarke’s actions. She wasn’t sure she trusted Clarke with her emotions. She gave no answer, which she guessed was an answer unto itself. Even with no answer, Clarke’s voice reached her ears as it hummed in acknowledgement. A hand took hers, and Clarke instructed “Keep your eyes closed.” She felt herself being led somewhere, and eventually she was guided to turn around. “Sit down.” The blonde said. She did. The softness of the surface she sat down in told her she had been led to Clarke’s bedroom and had sat down on her bed. Clarke pushed her shoulder so she would lay down. Lexa did and moved herself up so her entire body was on the bed. She was nervous. “Clarke.” She said worriedly. The woman’s voice was gentle, “Relax Lexa.” The bed dipped to her right, and she felt lips on her lips. They were gentle and tentative, hesitant in their pressure against hers. Clarke’s tongue slid along her lips but didn’t ask for entrance to her mouth. Lexa kissed back and gasped at the taste and feel of Clarke’s tongue. She felt and heard movement on the bed again as the blonde removed her mouth. Lexa opened her eyes to see Clarke was laying next to her on her side watching her. There was no frown on her face that usually accompanied the aftermath of emotional moments between them. It took her off guard that there was a small uptilt to the blondes mouth almost as if she was trying to restrain herself from smiling. “You’re a bitch.” Lexa breathed out to her. The mouth curled into a grin. It was a real one. One that reflected in the blues of her eyes, “Maybe.” The brunette gave a grin of her own, “You know, I thought you were an idiot when we first met. I even told Indra.” Clarke snorted in amusement, “No wonder she was killing me with her glare when she pulled me into that conference. Thanks Lexa.” “I told you to your face I thought you were an idiot before I told her.”  Lexa defended. The blonde let out a laugh, “Yeah I remember. You used to just glare at me like I had stolen your pudding or something.” The brunette hesitated, then asked “Can I ask you something?”  She saw the immediate affect her words had on the woman even when she received a nod of the head as an answer. All laughter and freedom vanished from the older woman’s face. “Without putting words into whatever this is now… Did you feel that way about me then?” She asked Lexa didn’t know if she was hurt or relieved by the “No.” that was said quietly. Clarke explained “I knew you had potential to be amazing.” The statement felt unfinished, so Lexa didn’t say anything.  Clarke turned over so she was facing away and her husky voice was so low Lexa had to strain to hear her finish it when she continued. “And then you became amazing to me.” Lexa put her hand on the blonde's arm and then withdrew it. Clarke was as stiff as a board. She recognised that Clarke had moved beyond her limit for today and got out of the bed. Lexa sat in the booth glaring. She didn’t know if she was glaring at Clarke or glaring at the woman Clarke was speaking too. What she did know was that the blonde was sporting a big wide smile as she appeared to be laughing at something that was said to her while she waited for the bartender to serve her. The difference in the blonde since they stepped foot into the club together was startling. The Blake’s had dragged them all out, with O being the duo’s spokesperson declaring if they stayed inside one more night she was declaring them all boring hermit crabs. So the blonde had rolled her eyes good naturedly and agreed, and if Clarke was going she guessed she was going too. But then they walked through the doors and all seriousness and contemplativeness disappeared from the woman. Clarke stood taller, a smile no matter how big or small stayed permanently fixed and she had been the life of the group with her jokes and quips. It was like she was a completely different person and Lexa was having a difficult time associating this attitude with the cautious attitude of Clarke from behind closed doors. And even more irritatingly Lexa found herself enchanted as the night went on. It was becoming more and more difficult to remind herself that this wasn’t really Clarke, because for a long time this was the Clarke she had known. She swore she might have growled when the woman Clarke was speaking to placed her hand on the blondes forearm and stepped into her personal space. It didn’t matter that Clarke had obviously said some sort of joke and lifted the arm that had the hand on it to cover her mouth, forcing the hand to release her as she laughed further; and then took a step back to look and see where the bartender was at, to subtly regain her personal space without offending the woman.  “Relax Lexa.” O said. Apparently she had actually growled and she redirected her gaze to the Blakes. Bellamy seemed to agree with his sister and gave his input. “You know what she’s like.” Lexa drank the rest of her beer. Yes. She did know what Clarke was like. An expert chameleon. It’s not that she had forgotten this about the blonde, how could she? The amount of hours and days she had spent trying to understand the woman had been incredibly frustrating.  So she knew that she was feeling irrational. But to have seen the change so suddenly, was disarming as was the realisation that she too began to feel comfortable and started laughing along as time passed. The interaction between the stranger and the blonde had brought her back to reality and only highlighted that the manipulation in Clarke was amazingly seamless.  It was a punch to her gut to see Clarke allow the woman to touch her and enter her personal space, compared to when the blonde had practically turned into Speedy Gonzales when Lexa tried to hug her that first time; or repetitively retreated whenever Lexa entered her personal space in the beginning. It had left her feeling somewhat envious of the stranger. It had taken effort, and consistency for the blonde to allow her to be that close.  Lexa logically knew her anger should be directed towards Clarke and a part of it really was. She gritted her teeth and sighed in frustration. She was feeling reckless again.  “Can you get the drinks? I need to talk to Clarke.” She asked one of the Blake’s. She didn’t care which Blake did it. She stood up. Lexa really did let herself growl as she heard the Blakes make bets on what exactly she was going to do with the blonde. (According to O for $10 on her driving Clarke to sexual insanity, and Bell’s $10 of her screaming at Clarke). In all honesty she didn’t know what exactly she was going to do as she angrily made her way to the blonde. She was going on pure impulse.  “Clarke.” She called firmly. Clarke turned to face her. That infuriating smile still painted on her face. Her brow twitched, betraying her confusion. Her tone was deceptively light “Lexa.” The facade being directed personally towards her caused the brunette to become even more irate. Even though in the back of her mind she knew it wasn’t true, it felt like she had lost all progress she made with the woman.  She announced, “We’re going home.” “Ok.” The blonde agreed pleasantly and she looked at the stranger and flashed one of her wide smiles saying, “Looks like I’m outta here. It was nice to meet you.” Lexa waved to the Blakes on her way past as an indication that they were leaving and O flashed her a thumbs up in encouragement. As soon as they walked out the doors Clarke was back to being real, and the seriousness returned to her face. The brunette pulled out her phone to order an uber and said “Don’t say anything.” Clarke obeyed and Lexa could feel the woman’s eyes on her. They said nothing to each other in the car. Lexa refused to look at the blonde. Clarke never stopped looking at her. The uber took them to Indra’s place knowing her mother was at work. Lexa got out of the car and didn’t hear movement behind her. Clarke was still in the seat of the car biting her lip in uncertainty, and the brunette jerked her head towards the front door of the house. The blonde exited the vehicle following her.  Lexa shoved Clarke in front of her, and placed her hand on the woman’s back taking them both to her room. Once inside she removed her hand, glaring at her. Clarke leaned back against the wall and broke the silence. Confusion and concern reflected in both her expression and tone of voice. “I have the impression I’m in trouble. What’s wrong?” Lexa said nothing. She analysed the woman’s posture and demeanor. The blonde had placed most of her weight on her right leg and her left leg was crossed in front of it. Clarke’s arms hung loosely at her sides with her fingers showing an indication of anxiousness as they tapped against the wall. Her chest rose and fell with every measured breath taken and Clarke’s expression did show honest confusion. The brunette stepped in so close she could feel puffs of air from every breath Clarke took. She looked into those blue eyes. She vaguely noted that Clarke was not trying to hide away from her scrutiny. She turned around and eyed her certificate and the birthday drawing that still hung on her wall. Clarke may not have hid from her. But right now she wanted to hide. She found herself again cursing her impulsivity. She felt Clarke’s front press against her back as the blonde repeated her question, “What’s wrong?” “Don’t touch me.” She hissed and used one of her shoulders to shove Clarke away.  “I can’t change anything if I don’t know what’s wrong.” The blonde’s voice murmured. Change? That single word set a fire in her. She spun around and glared at her again saying, “That’s precisely the problem Clarke. Change. You’re always fucking changing. As you have so eloquently said in the past: It’s fucking with my head. I give, you take. I push and you pull. You barely touch me. You have yet to actually say you care about me. Then when we go out you’re a completely different person!” Clarke looked stricken and she shrank back, her voice was small as she replied. “I’m trying with you Lexa. I really am.” Lexa did know that. She has seen that. It did little to soothe her turmoil. Because of that she had no idea how to respond to the blonde. So she just said nothing at all. “I danced with you, I told you how amazing you are to me, I’ve told you everything about you that compels me to you. I’ve been talking more about myself. I don’t know what else you want from me.” Clarke continued. She found Clarke’s response dissatisfying. “You’ve been talking more to me because I wore you down Clarke, you told me I was beautiful and everything else only after I screamed in your face.” “What about the other things?” The woman asked, Bluntly and impassively Lexa replied “It scared me.” “I don’t know what you want from me. I’m sorry.” The blonde reiterated obviously stung by her words. It occurred to Lexa that she didn’t know what she wanted from Clarke either right now. Lexa knew there was nothing Clarke could say that would satisfy her at this moment in time. She needed time to process. There was no good to be done if they didn’t know what they (she) wanted to communicate. She sighed, “Go home Clarke.” Clarke took a step towards her and her hand came out to touch her, and even though there was nothing but sorrow and caution in the blonde’s body language Lexa felt unreasonably threatened. Lexa took a step back again, and Clarke stopped and looked like she had been slapped, then lowered her arm and opened her mouth to say something but then decided against it. Lexa watched Clarke look at the framed picture of Shrek and Donkey that she had drawn the brunette on her birthday. She moved closer to it and traced the rays of light she had illustrated shining from the diamond in Shrek’s hand. Quietly the blonde said, “You once told me that Shrek was wrong. People aren’t layered like onions but were more associated with being diamonds, because they show different sides as the light is directed onto them.” The brunette didn’t know why Clarke was bringing this up, so she said nothing and continued to watch her. Clarke glanced at her, the blues weren’t shining. They were dull. “I’m sorry I missed noticing this side of you.”  The blonde walked to the door and slipped out of it. Lexa hoped Clarke wouldn’t leave, even if she had told her to.  She called out to her, “Clarke.” Lexa half expected the woman to come back. The fact Clarke didn’t at least answer her left the brunette reeling. What was she supposed to do now? She scowled at her friend. Clarke hasn’t left her room for the last few days except to shower and go to the bathroom. O had just finished telling her that she was an idiot. Of course Clarke hadn’t said anything to the Blake’s. O had just let herself into her room leaving a plate of food on her desk and left with two single sentences. “Stop being an idiot. Bell and I are going out.” Clarke had thought everyone was having a good time. Lexa was laughing, the Blakes were laughing. They needed another round of drinks so she had volunteered to get them. Some lady was flirting with her, sure. It’s not like Clarke had flirted back and she had even managed to maintain a pleasant conversation with the woman as she deflected her. Next thing she knew Lexa was glaring at her. Clarke really didn’t understand why Lexa was angry, and she didn’t want to create a scene so she agreed and left with the brunette.  Change was the problem? Wasn’t that what Lexa had been wanting ? Change from her? Then when she had questioned the brunette about it, Lexa had dismissed her efforts. The dismissal and lack of acknowledgement had more than devastated her. Lexa wouldn’t even touch her and it was the proximity that the brunette almost always initiated. When Clarke had initiated proximity and affection of her own accord Lexa shied away from it. The tension and apprehension in the brunette had been clear when she had pulled Lexa in to dance with her. The brunette had hesitated to take her hand and she had refused to answer whether or not she trusted Clarke. Then there had been fear in Lexa’s voice when the blonde had led her to her room and called her name before Clarke kissed her. Lexa had even admitted to being afraid when she tried. Clarke smacked her forehead on her desk and stayed that way. She was damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t. The blonde felt like a two year old again close to crying, for being punished for something that she didn’t know that what she did was wrong. One of the worst things about it was Clarke knew she would disappoint Lexa. She had told her that she would, then the woman had literally run after her saying that Clarke was creating non-existent problems. Clarke had been trying to prevent this very thing from happening. Well, there’s no doubt that there’s a problem that exists now. “If you stay like that you’ll end up with a sore neck.” Lexa’s voice rang out, her tone was succinctly even. Clarke didn’t move. She acknowledged the brunette’s statement by simply saying “Probably. When did you get here?” She frowned at how hoarse her voice came out, it reflected her inability to sleep after their fight. “Not long.” Lexa answered. Clarke made no effort to move or acknowledge the other woman. She was afraid to look up and see a muted anger in those green eyes. She was afraid of making things worse. Silence stretched out between them. “I was overwhelmed.” The brunette said eventually. The blonde didn’t need to ask to know that the woman was referring to the night at the bar. She closed her eyes and listened as Lexa continued to explain. “I was jealous.” Clarke waited to see if more would be said. When it became clear there wouldn’t be she asked, “Of what? There was nothing happening between me and her.” “I know.” The brunette acknowledged. “Then what was it?” She asked. She heard Lexa sigh. It sounded like she had moved to the bed. “Clarke, can you sit up and look at me when we talk? It’s hard to have a conversation if you won’t look at me.” Clarke sat up and turned herself on the chair so she was facing Lexa. She asked her question from the other night again, “What did I do wrong?” “You didn’t do anything wrong . But it still scared me” Lexa answered. She couldn’t do anything but stare at her. If she hadn’t done anything wrong then what was it that she did to prompt such a reaction from her? The brunette continued, staring not at her but at the wall, “Sort of like you being afraid to show how you feel. I was afraid because I felt I was losing sight of who you are. You were confident, you were smiling and so engaging. Not just with her. But with all of us, freely. It wasn’t real but it felt real. When I saw you two together. You let her touch you and come near you, and you made me have to work for you to be comfortable with that.” Clarke sighed in resignation. She didn’t see how she was able to respond without diminishing Lexa’s own thoughts or feelings, or without coming across as if she, herself were making excuses. “This is what I mean Clarke.” Lexa said, her impatience coming through. “I’m trying to have a real conversation with you, and you won’t even reply.” Her response was immediate as she replied “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” “How about what you’re thinking, feeling? You know? The things that make you, you?” Lexa quipped. Clarke couldn’t help but look at Lexa then at the door. It had been a reflexive action. One that she wasn’t going to act upon. But an action nonetheless. It was also something that the brunette noticed and she stood up. “Forget it. I’m done.” “Lexa.” She pleaded. She was feeling desperate and trapped. “I don’t know what to do. No matter what I do or say it seems to be the wrong thing.” Lexa arched a brow. Clarke took advantage of the fact Lexa hadn’t left and word vomited her earlier thoughts. “Yes, you’ve had to encourage things from me. But when I pointed out that I do take the initiative, all you said was that it scared you. So if I don’t do what you say you want it frustrates you, and makes you feel insignificant; then when I do, it terrifies you. So no, I don’t really know what you want from me. Because whatever I do it’s just wrong.” Clarke didn’t realise it until she felt tears come down her face, that she was crying due to her own frustration and fears. She did understand that her progress had been slow, but progress was still progress? Instead of directly replying to anything that she said, Lexa replied. “You left.” She stared at the woman in bewilderment. Of course she left, Lexa hadn’t wanted to talk to her, she had wanted to vent at her. Lexa hadn’t wanted to be near her or to touch her, and then told her to leave. Now she was in trouble for doing that also? Clarke closed her eyes, and resigned herself to whatever response the woman would give to her as she replied, “You told me to do that too.” “Clarke.” Lexa called. The blonde couldn’t make out the tone in the brunette’s voice. She ran her hand down her face and kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want the visualisation of Lexa’s disappointment. She already had the words and memories of the other night to reinforce it. “Clarke.” This time Lexa’s voice was softer. Almost soothing. She felt Lexa take her hand and involuntarily her hand flinched. She’s had her hand held before. But Lexa holding her hand seemed to enhance and make her hyper aware of the sensations she was physically feeling. Lexa’s touch always had since she had come to the realisation that she cared about the brunette; and she had no way to verbalise it in a way that was relatable. Clarke heard Lexa sigh and her hand was released. She opened her eyes cautious of what she would see. The brunette was staring at her, in that searching and calculating way of hers and her expression was carefully impassive. She’s learned that this expression on Lexa that this was was Lexa processing the things she wasn’t able to say. Those green eyes didn’t miss much of what went on around her. The blonde made no attempt to mask what she was feeling. She wanted Lexa to see everything, to understand her and to forgive her. Most of all, she wanted Lexa to accept her. The woman seemed to have made a judgement call because she sighed and said her name again gently. “Clarke.” “Lexa.” She frowned, her voice was scratchy. “You need to relax with me.” It wasn’t a command. Just a statement. She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. “No.” The brunette’s voice cut in, she opened her eyes quickly. “I mean in general. There is no right or wrong way to be with me.” Clarke didn’t feel as if the words were true. She didn’t voice her opinion though. Lexa continued to explain, “You have a very distinct pattern of behaviour. It’s different from everyone else I know even in passing. When you want control or want to distance yourself from what you're feeling you deflect and redivert the person's attention.”  The brunette took her hand again and continued to gaze at her intently, and said “It’s hard for me sometimes. I never used to be able to know what I was feeling or people around me were feeling. Now that I’ve learned, it’s really important to me. I need you to be able to show me that; by talking to me and maintaining some connection that isn’t broken so often. I know that can be hard for you too. It seems that that goes against your innate defense mechanisms. So I’ll try to be more patient if you can try and be more aware.” Lexa’s words relieved her. They reflected the woman’s accurate understanding of her as a person but also gave her perspective and understanding of the brunette herself. Clarke turned in her chair slowly so that she was facing the wall. She didn’t want the physical vulnerability to be more pronounced if she was going to try and allow herself to be emotionally vulnerable right now. “Clarke?” Lexa asked in the same gentle tone. “You remember back when you asked me if I kept busy with friends, and I replied that I ‘had’ friends?” She asked to prompt the brunette’s memory. She heard a sound of confirmation, and followed it up with another question. “Remember when I told you my parents, Finn and Wells ‘weren’t here’?” “I remember.” Lexa said, voice still just as soft. Clarke sighed. This was harder than she thought. She never talked about it because she never had anyone to talk to about it. The Blake’s knew her and was there when it all happened. “Clarke?” Lexa called again. “I have some mummy and daddy issues.” She started self decriptitly and then continued more seriously. “We used to be close, my mother and I. As much as someone can be with a surgeon as a family member, until I took the career path in education. Wells was my childhood best friend. We grew up together, mainly because our parents were best friends, and Finn was my ex boyfriend in highschool.” She chewed her lip. “I used to be normal. You know, taking risks, looking forward to being surrounded by friends and family. I played touch football.” Clarke flicked her eyes to try and peek at Lexa. She wished she hadn’t done that. It wasn’t that Lexa was doing anything. But it increased her discomfort. She moved her eyes to look at the grain of the wood that made up her desk. She continued, “I was part of our regional team and my father wanted to surprise me by coming to watch. You know, support me and all as parents usually do. He was a good man. If I had to grow up to be anyone it would have been him.” “ “He had organised for Wells, Finn and himself to take a mini road trip to watch my games. There was a crash and Wells and Finn were killed instantly. My father was placed on life support. I guess he and my mother had talked about the possibility of this ever happening because exactly 30 days after being put on life support my mother turned it off.” “It’s hard for me to have any sort of physical interactions that are sentimental because I associate them with things like love that I had mostly received from my father. He was always so playful and affectionate. We did everything together. When he passed away, I didn’t blame my mother. But we were already in our relationship breakdown because she thought being a teacher were too long of hours with too little pay.”  “She didn’t cope with my dad dying and suddenly it was only me in the house all the time. The few times she did come home, she was never really there. It was like living with a stranger. We never really talked. There were no hugs, or affection. It kind of ended our relationship. She’s still around. She’s recovered now. But our relationship never did. Sometimes we see each other, but they never go too well, our conversations usually end up with her expressing her disapproval.” She really didn’t like talking about these things. Or for this long. She needed to finish this. “Anyway, the person I am out of the house, is the balance I’ve found to be able to function and to be able to keep the peace with other people. It’s not really personal. I didn’t mean it as a rejection towards you.” “That’s why you keep mentioning disappointment and asking about what you’re doing wrong.” Lexa said. It was more of a thought out loud than a question directed to her. The blonde sighed and said nothing. “What about the Blake’s?” Lexa’s voice quietly asked. Clarke answered, “Not to keep secrets, but it’s not for me to say. They had their own problems.” “Do you want me to go?” Lexa asked. The blonde turned around and laid on the bed. She was tired, she didn’t want to talk anymore and she didn’t want the brunette to touch her. She’s had enough for the day. But no, she didn’t want her to go. Clarke patted the empty space next to her and closed her eyes at the motion of the bed dipping. It hadn’t taken Clarke long to fall asleep. Lexa had been able to tell before the blonde had even raised her head by her voice alone, how tired the woman had been. The conversation they had had seemed to deplete Clarke of any of her remaining energy and it had given Lexa a lot to think about. Honestly, she hadn’t cared about learning Clarke’s past. Not that the information wasn’t valuable. It was. It explained the blonde’s constant shift in persona and It had given her an empathy for the woman that she hadn’t had before, but she meant what she had said to Clarke. If someone spent too much time looking behind them they wouldn’t be able to see where they were wanting to go. Clarke’s past might have shaped her, like Lexa’s own; but their pasts did little to change who they were at the moment, or the problems they faced with each other now. What had her biting her lip as she looked at the sleeping blonde who’s back was to her; was that when Clarke had expressed that she felt trapped between a rock and a hard place, Lexa could actually see how she had caused her so much confusion. It didn’t change her own feelings but it had given her some perspective on why the woman seemed so rattled by her outburst. She had told Clarke that she wanted her to just be her, Lexa had meant emotional connection, but until their talk she had never really said those words. She just kind of assumed that Clarke would understand what she meant by her wanting Clarke to be herself. It was difficult to imagine having things like love, support and friendship to have it all taken away. Similar to how difficult it must be for Anya because probably once, her parents had loved her before that turned into apathy.  Lexa wasn’t sure who was luckier out of herself or Clarke. Herself who had never had those things to begin with, and having to learn them. Clarke who had once had them and then having to adapt to the loss of those things. It really explained a lot about their different approaches to things. Herself willing to take risks while Clarke was unable to. A part of her also felt a bit of guilt. She had an exceptional support network that had so much patience and acceptance for her. None of those people - Clarke included, had expected anything of her. Yet, in the face of Clarke’s own flaws, Lexa often found herself pushing her own insecurities and expectations on the woman in an attempt to keep Clarke from falling back into those flaws and insecurities. She remembered her birthday, thinking that her birthday hadn’t changed anything about who she was. She felt the same and still thought the same way. Lexa hadn’t suddenly grown wiser or smarter. There was no doubt that just because Clarke was older than her meant that the woman was and would always be better than her just because of her age. People just didn’t work that way. She thought both their viewpoints were valid and ‘right’. The thought led her to another. Clarke was so hyper focused on what she considered what Lexa wanted to be ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ in terms of her actions that the woman had completely misunderstood that Lexa was feeling emotionally neglected. So it had been astoundingly relieving when Clarke acknowledged that her actions had made Lexa feel that way. In some ways it also reassured her that the blonde could also empathise with her. Lexa got up and left the bedroom. She knew if Clarke woke up that the she would need time to process what had occurred. In so many ways, they were the same even if their approaches were so very different. What was that saying? Two sides of the same coin? She sat on the end of the couch and began reading an ebook on her phone. Eventually she saw Clarke’s legs walk past her and the blonde sat on the couch. Her husky voice was withdrawn as she said “Lift your arms up please.” God, she hoped Clarke wasn’t going to try and take her shirt off again. Not that she believed she would right now. But she couldn’t help the thought anyway. Lexa did do as she was asked though, and the weight of her blonde haired head rested on her lap. The brunette wasn’t quite sure what to do with her arms. She put her left arm on Clarke’s shoulder, and sat her right arm on the arm rest. “I don’t want to talk.” Clarke breathed. Lexa understood. The blonde just wanted to be near her. To be honest she felt the same way. It was a tease of the connection that she wanted with Clarke. But everyone had to start somewhere. She started reading her book again, flicking through the pages on her phone with her right thumb and stopped as Clarke’s fingers started rubbing against her left free hand. The touch was featherlight almost as if her hand would break if the blonde applied any pressure at all. Lexa said nothing, she didn’t want to break whatever moment Clarke seemed to be trying to wordlessly initiate between them. Lips pressed against her fingers and her hand was let go. Clarke repositioned herself so that she was on her back looking up at her. It was amazing how many times Lexa had seen people around her have silent conversations. It occurred to her in this moment that she too, has had silent conversations. How many times has blue stared into green or vise versa and be able to read their intentions or feelings?  The conversation they were having now wasn’t their usual one. It was the first time that they were able to do this without their predator / prey dynamics or without wild uncontrol. Lexa had no intentions or motivation as she kept eye contact with Clarke’s. In return Clarke’s eyes expressed no desire to run or hide. The brunette instincts spoke to her saying that this was an extremely important moment in time for them.  Lexa recalled how Clarke’s fingers had roamed her face and collarbone as if trying to to memorise her by feel alone. How many times had Clarke’s hands gripped and grasped her thighs and waist and held her closer? The brunette has never returned the favour except to grab her face and kiss her that first time. But right now she wanted to. Right now Clarke was with her and not running from her. Whatever was in her eyes seemed to speak to the blonde, because she sat up. They were careful not to break eye contact. It appeared as if Clarke didn’t want to break this moment either. It was Lexa who stood up and held her hand out to Clarke. The woman didn’t stop to think about it, there seemed to be no internal conflict going on inside of her. It was the first time that Clarke had indicated any sort of complete certainty while not being pressured, as she took the hand offered to her. Lexa walked backwards leading them to Clarke’s room. Once inside, she pressed her hand to the side of the blonde’s face. She had an odd thought, it was kind of a bit amusing how much time they spent just staring at each other, either in contemplation or in the midst of their battle of wills and wants. Clarke seemed to be in a similar mindset. Because, even though she seemed smaller than usual due to her demeanor; Lexa felt the muscles in her face move under her hand as the blonde gave a small smile and her blues showed her own amusement. “I like you.” Clarke said with a quirk of her brow. Lexa couldn’t help the bark of laughter that came out. She could accept that. Removing her hand to cover her mouth. She asked with humour of her own, “What are we? Back in highschool?” “Maybe. But I meant it.” The blonde said. Lexa didn’t miss the tension in the way that Clarke held her mouth. Or the way the woman leaned against the wall skating her fingers against it. “I kinda like you too.” She rolled her eyes and replied, her amusement leaking through. She meant the words, but it didn’t stop her from feeling kind of ridiculous for saying them. She glanced at the window. The gloomy overcast she saw put her in a more serious mood. “Clarke?” She said. She heard a hum of acknowledgement. Lexa bit her lip. “Can I ask you something?” “Yes.” She couldn’t miss the apprehension in the response. Lexa looked back at the fingers continuing the movement against the wall and then moved her eyes to blue. “You have some odd habits.” Clarke’s brows furrowed, “That’s not a question.” “Your hands. You’re always doing something with your hands.” She said. “That’s still not a question.” The blonde stated. Her fingers stopped their movement now being brought to awareness to her actions “I was wondering why?” She asked. Clarke reiterated her words from the track, the first time Lexa had hugged her. “I like physical.” The blonde frowned, and elaborated, “Feeling the sensations. It’s calming. I don’t know.”  “Can I ask you something else?” She enquired. Lexa really didn’t know why she even bothered to ask. Clarke always said yes in one way or another. Maybe she just felt it was polite? As she expected, the woman nodded her head. Lexa bit her lip. She wasn’t quite sure how Clarke would react to this question. “Why don’t you ask me about how I am. Or well, anyone? I guess I mean, you never really ask serious questions when we’re not arguing.” Clarke took a deep breath. “It’s not that I’m not interested… It’s because it’s personal. What you choose to do or say to me is your choice. If you want me to know I assume you’ll tell me because you want me to know.” Lexa’s didn’t understand. “How do you get your answers about people then?” “By doing the same thing you do. Watching what they do.” Was the answer. Now that was something Lexa couldn’t disagree with or question further. But then she had to ask, “Do you think it’s rude I ask you questions? I mean, since you said you think it’s personal and should be your choice to say?” Blue eyes closed, “No, it’s natural to be curious. Just sometimes to I find them to be probing.” She couldn’t help her next question, “What does watching me tell you?” Clarke bit her lip, and blue eyes roamed her own eyes, elsewhere and back again. “Clarke?” She prompted. Whatever the answer was, she could see that the woman considered it to be intimate. Clarke directed her eyes to the window, and her fingers started tapping. It was an answer that Lexa found frighteningly true and she fought the urge to want to leave. “That we’re similar. That as long as it’s not sexual, you don’t care what we do together. You only care about what we are.” Lexa just got off work and entered the Blake’s and took immediate note of O and Lincoln and in the middle of some type of banter. It was clear they were in love with one another. It was even more clear they were completely happy with each other. It was difficult to witness sometimes. It was a stark contrast to her and Clarke’s relationship. She didn’t think she was in love with the woman. She certainly didn’t know if Clarke loved her. But she didn’t question whether or not there was an affection there that was not platonic. She knew without question there was. There was certainly longing and caring. She just didn’t believe they were in love. But they certainly weren’t in a happy place. They are happier than they were. The fact that their relationship wasn’t stationary or regressing was a telling sign that they were slowly starting to understand each others motivations and they both were making some changes no matter how big or small. She didn’t make her way into Clarke’s room first like she usually did. Instead, Lexa took a seat at the table. She wasn’t too sure why, but she had been feeling out of sorts for the whole day. She was tired and it had been difficult and exhausting to pretend to be happy with the kids at work. She had been feeling alone. Observing O and Lincoln together was like staring at a carrot dangling in front of her, that was too high for her to reach. Being unable to look away due to her hunger for it and not being able to come up with a solution to retrieve it. When it became too much for her. Lexa stood up and murmured to the couple that she was going to the construction site. She would have preferred the track but it was too late in the day and it would be dark by the time she got there and there was decent lighting at the construction site. Lexa didn’t ride hard, or with a goal. The late evening air was cool and crisp. The act of riding cleared her mind.  It was freeing. It was well and truly night time when she noticed Clarke. She had spread a throw rug on to the ground and was laying down and looking up at the sky. Lexa was grateful that the blonde hadn’t interrupted her. She was even more appreciative that she was here.  “Hi” She said quietly. Clarke sat up, a small smile graced her features, blue eyes conveyed their uncertainty as she said in a quiet voice, “Hi. I brought you dinner. I figured you’d be hungry” The blonde started taking two food containers out and a couple of forks. Inside the container that Clarke passed to her was a mix of chinese stir-fry vegetables, some chicken and mushroom. The meal took her by surprise. It was her favourite. Lexa believed if she didn’t cook the meal she didn’t have the right to complain about the meal. She doubted that Clarke had brought her, her favourite by luck. She looked at Clarke again. “It’s your favourite right? It’s the only thing I’ve seen you eat seconds of.” The blonde said as a way of an explanation to her unspoken thoughts. She sat down next to her and said. “Yes, thank you.” They ate in silence. She wasn’t sure what the blonde was doing here. But Lexa was glad that she was. She felt whenever the woman’s eyes were on her. Not that Clarke ever really initiated conversation first, but there didn’t seem to be any pressure for Lexa herself to speak.  She was grateful for that too. When she finished her food, she looked at Clarke’s. The blonde hadn’t eaten much. Lexa turned further to raise a brow at her. “I’m not really hungry. I knew you wouldn’t eat unless I did.” Clarke explained. She nodded her head in appreciation and picked up their containers to put them in the bag. Clarke was sitting crossed legged and fiddling with her phone, and a moment later, low playing soft tempo’d music began playing. Lexa leaned against Clarke. She had to give it to her. The woman knew what relaxing yet atmospheric music was. “Why did you come here?” Lexa asked The blonde answered simply, “O said you were here.” That really wasn’t an answer to the question she asked, but Lexa accepted it all the same. The unspoken words said everything to her. She had an odd thought. She was reminded of the time she planned and had that date with Costia. Lexa was trying to re-establish their connection with each other. It was something she had been self conscious about, something that didn’t feel all that natural at the beginning. Then when Costia had leaned up against her, Lexa had wanted her and she had gotten lost in the moment. Clarke’s actions now did not feel forced, or unnatural. Clarke didn’t sing to her and Clarke didn’t touch her nor did she impose herself onto Lexa. Clarke was simply here in case Lexa needed her to be, and Lexa herself felt a rush of gratitude and appreciation for the normally closed off woman. “Thank you” She said. The blonde didn’t say anything, and instead just took her hand, brushing her thumb across Lexa’s knuckles, and looked up towards the sky. Lexa followed her gaze. The stars seemed brighter than usual tonight. The words that Clarke had spoken the other night about them not caring about what they did, only about what they were rang through her head loud at this moment. The acknowledgement and understanding had shaken her to the core when she heard the words. Was a relationship supposed to consist of things like fear and vulnerability alongside the more positive feelings like affection and understanding? The blonde had always baffled and frustrated her from day one and had continued to intrigue her. Indra, Costia, Raven and Anya had all been fairly quick to figure out. Lexa’s understanding of the woman now did little to quell the feeling of being drawn to the woman. She didn’t think she had cared for Clarke back then. But those same feelings seemed to be much more enhanced now. The hand that had taken hers was removed and Clarke stood up stretching and positioned herself behind Lexa. She didn’t lean back into her. Hands placed themselves on her shoulders and fingers kneaded the muscles there. Lexa felt herself physically relax under the ministrations. The hands moved closer to the back of her neck as Clarke’s thumb began to apply their pressure there when Lexa asked her, “Do you think we’ll ever be like Lincoln and Octavia?” The hands stopped their movements but didn’t remove themselves. Lexa thought that Clarke wouldn’t answer. She knew questions like this could potentially send the blonde running for the hills. The unanswered question stretched out for minutes before Clarke removed her hands from her shoulders and placed them on her waist, she felt the blonds chin rest on her shoulders and sigh. “No, we’re different from them. Our relationship is different.” The blonde eventually answered. Lexa let out a long breath at the reply. The mixed feelings that began to envelope her were confusing. She also felt Clarke take a deep breath and arms encircled her so and hands rested on her stomach. Clarke spoke. “The things we want are different from them. Linc and O aren’t relationship goals.” Again, Lexa understood what wasn’t being said. “Thank you.” She repeated. Lips pressed against her ear but there was nothing further said. Eventually she said “It’s getting late.” “Do you want to go?” Clarke asked. “No. This is nice.” Lexa replied. The blonde made a hum of agreement. Lexa could feel the vibrations caused by Clarke’s throat at the sound. “Can you let go?” She asked the blonde. The woman immediately leaned back and removed her arms. Lexa wanted to see something. She needed to see something. She needed to be shown something and she knew that Clarke would never do it first. Well, at least not yet. She needed to initiate it with her. Lexa stood up, and offered her hand to the blonde, which was taken and she helped pull her up. Blue eyes conveyed softness and confusion. The brunette kissed her. Pressing her lips firmly against Clarke’s, and the rush of air that left the woman, filled Lexa with pride. Clarke’s tongue entered her mouth and this time it was she who gasped. Clarke wasn’t pulling away from her, she was pressing herself into Lexa.  Clarke wasn’t running and she was engaging willingly. It was the blonde who eventually pulled back breathless and said “Let’s go home.” Clarke led the way home, and when they entered the house, Bellamy was frowning. O was sitting on Linc’s lap as they watched a movie. The three of them gave a smile of greeting and returned their eyes to the TV. Seeing O and Lincoln this time did not bring any uncertain feelings to the surface. She followed Clarke to her bedroom. The blonde laid down on the bed with one arm spread out. Lexa laid down next to her pressing herself to the woman and Clarke’s arm wrapped around her. A press of the woman’s lips was felt on her head as hands played with her hair. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said.  This was nice. Lexa was sitting at the table with Indra like she usually did most mornings when she came home, before she went to the Blakes to see Clarke. This morning there was a feeling of unease in the air, like something was bothering her mother and Lexa really didn’t know how to approach it. Indra was frowning and had a far away look on her face. She wasn’t sure if she should wait for her mother to speak or to ask her directly. Indra had never seemed bothered by anything before. She stood up and made a cup of tea for the woman and placed it in front of her. “Is everything ok?” She asked. Indra’s shrewd eyes roamed over her and it made Lexa shuffle. She imagined this was what a child felt when they weren’t sure if they were in trouble or not with their parents. “You’ve grown up.” Indra said.  Lexa wasn’t able to tell whether this was a positive thing or not to the woman. Her tone of voice was carefully neutral. “It's a natural progression of life. I’m seeing less and less signs of you around here. I’m proud of who you’ve grown up to be.” Indra explained. She bit her lip. She felt compelled to give her mother an explanation. It was true that Lexa was never home when Indra went to work work. But Lexa never left the house in the mornings without at least a brief talk with her. She hasn’t told her about Clarke yet. Normally they just talked about work. “I’m seeing someone.” She said uncomfortably. One of her mothers’ eyebrows arched, “Well that explains a lot. So tell me about them.” “It’s Clarke.” Lexa blurted out. “Clarke?” Indra enquired. It was obvious that she wasn’t making the connection. She started bouncing her knee as she answered hesitantly, “Griffin.” “The teacher?” Lexa couldn’t make out the tone of voice her mother was speaking with, and it was making her all the more anxious. She nodded. “Clarke Griffin the teacher?” Indra asked again. Lexa nodded again. “Clarke Griffin the idiot teacher?” Indra clarified one last time. Lexa wasn’t sure how to react to having to reiterate who Clarke was. “Yes..” She wasn’t sure what to expect. But loud laughter was not it. The woman seemed to find the notion hysterically funny, and the reaction scared her. When Indra stopped laughing the intense seriousness on her face and in her voice was actually terrifying. “I thought she left. When did this start?” “A couple of months ago.” She answered. “And not while you were in school?” Indra asked. Lexa shook her head. “Not while we were in school.” “Does she treat you well?” Indra took a sip of her tea. “She doesn’t treat me unwell. We have our problems. Mainly because we’re learning to understand each other. But it’s getting better.” She answered. Indra’s eyes seemed to drill into her. “Does she make you happy now?” Does Clarke make her happy right now? She hadn’t really thought about it. When they started this thing, all she saw was Clarke repeatedly trying to disengage with her. That hadn’t made her happy. She didn’t analyse whether or not she was happy. But their smaller moments do. The other night at the construction site did. It really is all the smaller moments. She decided on what she felt was a neutral answer. “We’re finding common ground. It can be hard, she isn’t really like how she was as a teacher. We like the little things.” Indra made a hum of acknowledgement, “Every relationship has their problems.” Lexa didn’t reply. Indra hadn’t really passed her judgement and it made her nervous. She didn’t want to make her mother unhappy. But she knew her mother wouldn’t say what she truly thought. She never had, she had always been supportive no matter what Lexa had done. “Trusting you means trusting your choices. I trust you know what’s best for you.” Indra said. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I take it you’ll be going over to see her today.” She nodded. She felt the need to reassure the woman. “I still love you.” “I love you too. You’re just growing up.” Indra replied. At work, it was apparently Smiley’s birthday. So Lexa went out of her way to make a chatterbox and drew and coloured it in, to attempt to resemble a frilled neck lizard. She handed it to him saying “Happy Birthday. A frilled neck lizard. Just like you, it’s a small creature with a big personality.” He beamed at her and gave her a hug, then looked confused. “What’s a personality?” She laughed and ruffled his hair. It must be great to be innocent. Her mood though took a sharp turn when she arrived at the Blakes after work. Letting herself in she knew there was something amiss. There were muffled voices that sounded angry coming from the hall. O and Bell were on the couch watching TV trying to ignore the noises. Occasionally they would glance at each other with worry.  “You don’t want to go in there.” O said to her. Of course it made her want to go in all the more. Bellamy frowned and explained. “Abby, she came over during dinner. They’ve been at it ever since.” O nodded and added, “Look, Clarke gets funny after seeing her. Don’t take it personally.” “Then why don’t you go in there and help her?” She couldn’t help but ask. Bellamy hesitated, “She doesn’t like us to interfere.” O nodded in agreement. Now she really wanted to go in there and see what was going on. Lexa disagreed. She’d bet her bottom dollar that the blonde would want someone there to ground her, even if she didn’t know how to appreciate it. The sounds of the argument grew louder the closer she got to Clarke’s bedroom. Quietly she opened the door and took in the sight before her. She couldn’t see much of the blonde because Abby was blocking her view. But what she did see was Clarke’s clenched fist and she could make out the two women were right in each other’s faces. “-You continue to ignore me like a little kid sticking their hands over their ears.” Abby was saying. Clarke really did sound like a child, her voice was meek even if her words were defiant. “Of course I do. This is why I do. You never have anything nice to say. You haven’t for years since then.” Abby’s voice was hard, “One day I came home and it was like looking at a stranger. I didn’t know who you were Clarke. I want my daughter back. You need to get over it, instead of holding grudges. We all had to move on.” “I really did become a stranger mum. It changed me and you were never around to see it. Now you’re acting like it’s some big surprise, just like you do everytime we speak.” Clarke replied. Lexa cleared her throat causing both women to stop. “Who’s this?” Abby asked the blonde. “No one that needs me to speak for her. You can ask her yourself. She can actually see and hear you, you know.” Clarke snarked at her mother. Abby’s brown eyes glared into hers.  Lexa glared back. “Lexa, and you should leave.” The mouth of Clarke’s mother pursed even tighter. The brunette tried to be rational, “There’s no sense in arguing if you’re not trying to at least understand each other. It’s counter productive and it’ll only create more resentment. Try again when you’re both calmer.” Abby gritted her teeth and stalked past her, slamming the door behind her. Obviously unable to argue with her logic. Lexa chanced a look at Clarke. She wasn’t sure if the woman was going to cry or have a temper tantrum. She wanted to comfort her and hug her. Lexa didn’t know what to do. Her instincts told her that hugging the woman would trigger her. She tested the waters and took a step towards the blonde. Clarke retreated. It stung. She tried not to take it personally like O had advised her. She knew that Clarke wasn’t upset with her. She had no reason to be. But the rejection hurt nonetheless. “Thank you and sorry. I just don’t want to be touched right now.” Clarke said quietly. She understood. She couldn’t relate but she understood. Abby had made Clarke feel alienated, and with that alienation came Clarke’s distance. If the blonde was happy she touched. If she wasn’t she didn’t touch. Lexa forced herself to nod. “I’ll be out there if you need me.” Clarke nodded. It was hard to walk out of the room and give the woman the space she needed, when all Lexa desired was to make her feel better.  She went out and watched the rest of the movie with the Blakes. They didn’t ask her what happened, and she didn’t offer the information.  When the movie was over, she asked them. “Is Abby always like that?” Bellamy nodded, “Abby’s never understood Clarke, and Clarke’s never forgiven her.” “Why did you let her in?” Lexa asked. It didn’t make sense if their relationship was that bad, that the woman would be let into the house. “We didn’t. Clarke did. She’s the one who answered the door” O replied. She didn’t understand. Then why would Clarke let her in? It kind of seemed like inviting yourself to lose an unwinnable battle with the foreknowledge that you can’t win. Wouldn’t it be easier just to cut ties with that knowledge? Her confusion must have shown on her face. Because it was Bellamy who explained. “Clarke and Abby don’t get along, but that doesn’t mean Clarke doesn’t love her mum, or hasn’t stopped needing Abby’s approval or affection. It also doesn’t mean that Abby doesn’t care about Clarke. The love is there, just their acceptance isn’t.” Lexa had nothing to say. She could understand the theory of the words, she just had no experience to relate to the words. But she didn’t particularly like that the Blake’s didn’t interfere, knowing that an argument would take place. She said nothing though. She understood that Clarke was difficult and she forced them to care about her from a distance. When the Blake’s retired for the night, Lexa finished reading the rest of her book on her phone. Clarke never once emerged from her room, and the blonde’s absence was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Lexa grabbed two six pack of beers out of the fridge, and went back into Clarke’s room. While she had never drank herself while in a mood, she’s heard it can make people feel better if they didn’t have drinking problems and if they drank with company. She placed them on Clarke’s desk and opened on handing it to her. The blonde took a big long swig out of it, drinking most of the stubby. They said nothing to each other as they slowly went through the beers. The blonde was drinking a lot more than she was. That didn’t make her any less drunk over time. Lexa had drank the last beer and she felt desperate to get their connection back. She wanted to touch Clarke, and reassure the woman she wasn’t alone. She couldn’t think clearly. It was Lexa who crawled onto the bed to settle herself on top of Clarke when the blonde had laid in bed on her back. It was Lexa who kissed her slowly and carefully and took the womans shirt off before licking and kissing the blondes’ collarbone.  It was Clarke who flipped them over so that she was now on top, and kissed her back gently, before withdrawing, rolling off of her and saying the words in a small voice, “Not like this.” It was Lexa who rolled to her side and faced away from Clarke, and it was Clarke who pressed herself closer to the brunette kissing her shoulder blade holding her drunkenly humming until Lexa fell asleep. Lexa woke up alone, with a slight headache. She saw a glass of water with some painkillers next to it on the bedside table next to her. Memories of the previous night flooded her and she was filled with awkwardness. She had literally crawled on top of Clarke, removed her shirt and damn near gave her some hickies. She wondered how she went from wanting to comfort Clarke to being on top of her and slipping the blondes shirt over her head. Lexa was absolutely mortified now as she was when she turned away from her when she went to sleep. At the fact she had done all that, and also that Clarke had rejected her. Logically Lexa knew that what Clarke had said was true. Neither one of them were even remotely ready for such a step, and somewhere inside her she was grateful for the acknowledgement. But Clarke had rejected her, and it had hurt. It was that feeling that was most dominant at this moment. The fact the blonde had tried to comfort her afterwards and was humming had done little to quell the feeling. Lincoln was the only one out there when she exited her room. Her confusion must have been obvious because he said. “Good morning, Bell and O are at work, and Clarke needed to go talk to one of the schools; something to do with her college units.” Lexa shook her head. She must have been more incoherent than she thought this morning. Drinking was bad for her. She went and took a shower. Lexa felt like she didn’t understand anything and was floundering. As she was drying her hair she caught sight of herself in the mirror cabinet. She walked closer to it and analysed her reflection. It was a strange notion to realise that this was the face, and these were the eyes that Clarke has spent staring into for so long. She wondered what the blonde saw in her when she studied her that way. She wondered if Clarke was attracted to her and wondered if the woman thought whether or not she was beautiful. She looked away. Lexa never wondered about these things before. She shouldn’t start now, it was one more thing to feel uncertain about. She knew regardless, that the seed had been sewn. Lexa made herself some breakfast and decided to eat out on the back verandah. She could hear the sound of the cicadas as she watched birds fly past in the sky. There was a faint smell of bacon the neighbours were cooking. She found herself focusing on everything so that she could avoid the feeling of dread that was associated with facing Clarke. Lexa didn’t know what she should expect. The feeling was increased when Clarke did return and didn’t sit next to her, but had opted for one of the end chairs. Clarke had come back and brushed her hand across Lexa’s shoulder before taking a seat. The blonde looked tired, as if she had gotten no sleep, and perhaps she hadn’t after Lexa had fallen asleep. Clarke was biting her lip and was refusing eye contact. It made the brunette feel a sense of loss. Lexa didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. She felt like she did the night she screamed at her in the bar; that no matter what was said, it wouldn’t be enough for her right now. Clarke broke the silence with something she didn’t expect. A question. “I need to ask you something..?” Well, like Lexa could refuse that. She didn’t want to answer any questions, but for the amount of questions the woman has answered for her, she could hardly refuse. She nodded her permission. “I’ve finished my theory units for school.. I had to do three placement units to finish my degree.. I guess this also applies for when I start work again..” Clarke bit her lip and she looked uncertain. “I don’t want to upset you.” Lexa was kind of mind blown. She had expected a question to do with last night. Instead she got this. She couldn’t see how this would upset her. Clarke finishing her degree and returning to work would be a good thing. She replied, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me Clarke.” Clarke sighed, “It’s not uncommon to see parents out of the school. I don’t want to make you feel insecure about, you know.. About how I change?” Lexa stared at the woman. The blonde did look hesitant and unsure. But Lexa was kind of unsure how she should answer. It seemed stupid to not work simply because she didn’t like something. Clarke apparently was thinking along similar lines, because she clarified. “I guess it wasn’t really a question, I just wanted to warn you.” She nodded in acknowledgement. The truth was, how she felt about it changed nothing, and they both knew it. Clarke telling her was just a courtesy, and also as a warning so that she wouldn’t be taken off guard again. Lexa appreciated the consideration. Lexa’s thoughts from earlier crept back up, and she studied the woman, it wasn’t her usual scrutiny. She wasn’t searching for answers or trying to decipher meanings or intentions. No, she was studying her features.  Clarke was staring into her coffee and Lexa looked at the way that Clarke parted her hair so that her bangs which were half the length of the rest of her hair, framed her face rather than hang over her eyes or brows or be clipped back. Her naturally thin eyebrows that were closer to her eyes than Lexa’s own. Such expressive, thoughtful sky blue eyes that could be dull or twinkle in an instant depending on the mood. The curves of her cheekbones, and her narrow dimpled chin. Her thin lips with a beauty mark above them. Lexa’s eyes ran lower, Her clavicle wasn’t all that pronounced, but it didn’t need to be with the chest that she knew was under that shirt. No shirt would hide their size. She knew how soft and curvy the woman was even further below.  The only thing that would make Clarke more pretty would be if she smiled more. Serious features graced her face far too often for Lexa’s preference. She felt rather awkward when thinking about herself. More lanky and less feminine over all, lacking the softness, curves and chest size that Clarke possessed. She knew they weren’t ready. But she couldn’t help but still be bothered by it. Lexa blurted out, “Are you attracted to me?” The question and delivery startled Clarke so much that she jumped and spilled some of her coffee.  “Of course.” The blonde answered. Clarke didn’t get it. “No I mean, how I look. Not my personality.” Lexa said in a rush. Her anxiousness was making her speak fast. The blonde bit her lip, and hesitated, “Are you sure this is where you want to speak about this?” It was then that Lexa remembered Lincoln was inside and could probably hear everything with the open door and window. Wouldn’t this make great gossip for the Blakes. Once in the privacy of Clarke’s bedroom Lexa avoided looking at her.  “Lexa.” Clarke said. The blonde wanted her direct attention. Lexa obeyed and looked at her. Clarke’s eyes didn’t stray from hers, and the woman clarified. “You want to know if I’m attracted to you physically and sexually?” Lexa swallowed the lump in her throat that was forming and jerked her head in confirmation.  Unlike her, Clarke didn’t remove her eyes to scrutinise Lexa’s body as she answered the same as before, she also didn’t appear to be all that hesitant. She answered with complete certainty. “Of course. How could I not be?” “What do you like about me, that way?” Lexa asked, she couldn’t help herself. One question always led to another. The blonde bit her lip, “I love your eyes, I kind of always have. You have the most elegant jawline and collarbone I’ve ever seen, and your mouth. It would be better if I saw it smile more.” She snorted at the irony. “I was thinking the same thing about yours.” Clarke chose not to reply to that, instead asked her own question, “Is this about last night?” Lexa nodded and cleared her throat, “I know we’re not at that stage yet. It just made me question if you wanted me.” The blonde averted her eyes, and quietly she replied. “I did want you.” “Have you wanted me before last night? That way?” She asked as she leaned against the wall. Clarke nodded and continued to look away. “When?” Lexa asked. The blonde began playing with the hem of her shirt. “Does it matter?” “No. I guess I just wanted to know.” There was no point in lying. It really didn’t matter if she knew when those times occurred. But it made her feel good to know she was wanted by her. Clarke stared at a spot on the floor. “When you asked me to help you with your tattoo, before we kissed for the first time. When I danced with you, not while we were dancing but when we were in bed. the night we were at the construction site, and last night.” Five times. Five times that Clarke had wanted her and five times she did nothing about it. Unreasonably it made Lexa feel inadequate. She knew the answer to the next question, but she wanted the verbal reassurance. “Why haven't you done anything?” It took a long time before Clarke eventually answered. “Because I want it to mean something with you. I don’t just want to wait for the right time. I want it to be the time, if that makes sense.. I don’t want it to be angry, or heated sex. I don’t want it to be comfort or drunken sex with you .” Lexa understood, and she knew she felt the same. To sleep with each other would be to seal the deal with each other, and not just on a physical or sexual level. They weren’t ready and Clarke wasn’t frustrated by that. What was done last night, needed to be done. All she could say was “Thank you.” Clarke smirked, it was mischievous. The type that flustered Lexa.  She swallowed again, “What?” “You did a pretty good job on me last night.” The voice was full of playfulness as a hand stretched the collar of her shirt down and she could see two faint hickies. Lexa flushed and covered her mouth with one of her hands, “Clarke!” “Hey, you did it not me.” The blonde laughed. Returning to a class setting was like getting back on a bike. Clarke walked into the classroom with a genuine confidence and ease that she lacked at home. The classroom itself was different, catered to much, much younger children.  The size of it was bigger than a normal classroom, and unlike a highschool classroom that lacked any sort of decor, it was decorated with bright colours and attention grabbing pictures, posters and toys. It was organised clearly into different sections, with an indoor play area, a quiet reading area and a group work area. There was a back door that led to an outdoor area as well, where a drinking fountain, eating area and playground was. Addressing the four-six year old students wasn’t all that different from addressing the sixteen-seventeen year olds. The same core techniques were required, engagement, age appropriate body language and age appropriate verbal language.  The difference was in the students themselves. Students this age actually wanted to be here, they were more easily pleased and also wanted to please in return.  Students this age didn’t realise consciously they were actively learning when you asked them to colour in, which helped develop their fine motor skills. Or play on the playground helping develop their gross motor skills and spatial awareness. Even reading a story and talking about what occurred in it helped with memory and comprehension development. Young children were so innocently naive to what was really happening around them at Pre-School. It was all fun and games to them. It was refreshing and enjoyable to be a part of that. Regardless of how rewarding the job could be, the energy levels it required for Clarke to maintain a permanent smile and bounce in her demeanor had taken its toll on her. She had been out of the game for too long for it to seem all that natural to her mentally and physically for such a long period of time, even if the transition into that state had been easy to begin with. And kids this age? They just seemed to have an endless supply of energy and enthusiasm No one was home when she entered the house. She knew there wouldn’t be, Bell would be at work with O. That was perfectly fine by her. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone. The blonde wouldn’t have minded cuddling up with Lexa, but she would just be starting work and wouldn’t be getting off until eight-ish. Clarke just wanted a nap. Too lazy to make it to her own bed, the blonde slumped onto the couch and closed her eyes. She woke up to some quiet giggling. She was thirsty and it was dark, no sun shone through the cracks in the closed curtains of the window. She sat up and saw Lexa and the Blakes at the table. She had to walk past the Blakes to get to the fridge. Lexa smiled at her with her eyes, the greens were sparkling; and the simple act made her heart beat faster. She smiled back. O had obviously noticed Lexa’s change of attention because she quipped. “Sleeping Beauty is awake at last. I tried to get Lex here to kiss you awake, but she told me to leave you alone.” Bell chuckled, “It’s true. Hi Princess slept well?” “Fuck off.” She said good naturedly. Clarke kicked the back leg of O’s chair and ruffled Bellamy’s hair on the way past. She really needed a drink. She poured herself a glass of water and looked off to her side. Lexa was watching her. Clarke raised her cup in question and the brunette nodded. The blonde got another cup and filled it with water too and sat down next to her and held her hand under the table. Lexa gently squeezed her hand back and the blonde looked up giving her another small smile. “Ugh, you two make me sick.” O said in exasperation. She turned her attention to her friend, “Huh? What are you complaining about now, big mouth?” “How can two people who barely say shit to each other say so much?” O groaned, rolling her eyes. Clarke kicked the woman underneath the table causing her to let out a yelp. “Shut up.” “Princess has a point O. You and Lincoln are always all over each other. Clarke and Lexa’s subtly is a nice change.” Bellamy snickered at his sister. Jeez she really did love the Blakes, they were her family and have been for so long. But right now she kinda wanted to stab them. She looked back at Lexa and arched a brow. The brunette nodded in response again. Clarke stood up snatching Bell’s car keys. “I’m borrowing your car. Later losers.” She wasn’t really sure where she was taking them, but she knew that the Blake’s words had probably struck a small chord in the brunette. Clarke asked her, “Have you eaten yet?” “Yes, I had something on the way over.” Lexa said, there was a gentleness in her voice that Clarke never heard her use with anyone else.  She liked it. It made her feel special in a way she hadn’t before. Lexa’s words made it easy. The blonde herself wasn’t really hungry. “That doesn’t mean that you’re not eating. Stop somewhere and grab something.” The brunette’s voice was firm. Clarke hummed. Lexa’s voice continued, “I’m serious. I know you haven’t eaten, and frankly you don’t eat enough. Get something to eat or I’ll annoy you to death about it.” If there’s anything that Clarke didn’t question about the woman it was her determination and perseverance. Traits that Lexa’s shown since she walked into her classroom that day. She didn’t doubt that Lexa would be true to her word. She pulled into a place and picked out a greek salad. Clarke ended up driving them to the foreshore and began eating her salad. “Is this like a date?” Lexa asked eventually. Clarke side glanced at her. Lexa wasn’t looking at her. She was looking off into the ocean. The question made her feel self conscious and awkward. “It wasn’t my intention to have a date, I just figured we could get away from O’s teasing, and this is a nice place.” Lexa didn’t reply and she went back to eating her salad. Clarke couldn’t help the small shiver when the brunette pressed against her back resting her head on her shoulder and wrapping her arms around her. She understood Lexa’s non-verbal response. The blonde let out a breath of appreciation that words weren’t needed. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the waves and concentrated on the sensation of feeling Lexa’s touch. Clarke didn’t realise she had leaned back into it. The brunette murmured, “You’ve stopped running.” “You’ve stopped chasing.” Clarke replied just as quietly. Lexa hummed. Clarke couldn’t help herself. She just had to. She felt herself smirk. “You’re not grumpy anymore.” Arms tightened around her and the pressure of the brunette’s lips on her neck made her shiver again as Lexa replied, “You liked it.” She couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped her, and turned around. “Since when did you get all sassy?” “Does it matter?” Green eyes sparkled as brightly as the stars above them did. Clarke grinned, and echoed Lexa’s earlier words. “No. I like it.” Lexa’s hands guided her to turn around so she was facing the waves again. The brunette’s voice said, “Seems like a long time ago. You said I needed motivation. You just needed a little push.” Clarke snorted. She felt Lexa’s hands travel up and down her waist. “Ok,” the brunette conceded. “More like a huge fucking shove.” “Shut up.” She tried to snark. It came out more unsteady than she had hoped. She was enjoying the sensations that Lexa’s hands caused. The places the hands roamed slowly were hot even against the fabric of her clothes. There was no place inappropriate that they travelled, and yet it left her feeling helpless. “You should let go.” She murmured. Clarke could hear the confidence in the brunette’s voice. “Why?” “How can someone so confused about sex, be this confident with this?” She asked.  It was more of a rhetorical question. She had meant to throw Lexa off balance with it. Instead what occurred was a more innocent answer, “Sex? I’m confused.” Clarke disengaged herself from Lexa, and took a step back raising a brow. Hoping that the woman would get it. Of course with her luck. The brunette was clueless as she asked, “What?” The blonde sighed fondly. Fucking Lexa. She really just had no idea. “Nevermind.” She said and moved back closer to the woman. “I need to tell you something, well ask something.” Lexa said, any trace of confidence and humour had vanished from her tone. The blonde hummed, “What is it?” “So I told Indra about us.” Lexa started, and Clarke couldn’t help but tense at the knowledge that Indra was aware. It made sense, and the blonde didn’t fault the woman for it. Just the knowledge made her a bit uncomfortable. “I told her the other morning, but today she wanted you to come over for breakfast sometime. To get to know you.” Lexa informed her. Clarke didn’t even think about the words that left her. “Indra’s met me before.” “No, she met Ms Clarke Griffin, the Idiot English Teacher.” Lexa said, trying to keep her relaxed. She bit her lip eyeing the brunette. Clarke already knew her answer, and apparently so did Lexa if her reassuring expression was anything to go by.  The blonde nodded. “Just be you, she’s not trying to be your friend. She just wants to know that we’re good.” Lexa said. Clarke mentally translated. Lexa was trying to tell her that by being herself around Indra wouldn’t be any form of intimacy or closeness because Indra’s concern was purely Lexa. Still she couldn’t help the nerves. But still she nodded, “I’ll try.” Clarke couldn’t promise anything more than her effort. Her social habits were ingrained hard into herself. She wasn’t consciously aware of the flick of the switch. “It’s nice out here. Peaceful.” She said. It was stated to redirect the conversation, but it was also true. Lexa seemed to agree. “It is.” Clarke chuckled, “Idiot English Teacher.” “Never going to let you forget it.” The brunette said. The blonde took her hand leading them back to the car. Bellamy would probably have a heart attack about his car if she didn’t return with it soon. “Do you want to go to bed?” Lexa asked. Truthfully Clarke’s extended nap meant that she wasn’t tired. But if it meant stretching this out longer, she had no complaints. She would write her report from the day after Lexa had fallen asleep. She followed the brunette to bed.  It seemed stupid to have put so much effort into running from this. Lexa has cut her to the bone once before. She knew she had also cut Lexa just as deeply. But that had been due to a lack of awareness.. Not because they were trying to change each other or were dysfunctional. They just hadn’t found a common ground. But they were getting there, and now she really felt like an idiot for resisting herself and the woman. It had wasted so much effort and time they could have spent enjoying this. Whatever this was.  The woman was facing her and Clarke stared at her features. Steady, persistent, intelligent and problem solving Lexa. Honestly, how could someone so naive and at times so oblivious be as analytical and aware at the same time. They seemed to be such oppositional traits. She hoped one day she could be just as grounding for the brunette. Clarke knew she had a lot of baggage. Some might say too much baggage. She rolled over putting some space between them, and even in her sleep Lexa’s hand reached out for her and landed on her hip. Clarke smiled in spite of herself. Fucking Lexa. “Does it have to be today?” Clarke asked, tapping her fingers against her arm. Lexa rolled her eyes again. “Seriously Clarke. It’s not like my mother’s going to chew you up and spit you out. Besides, if it’s not today; it’ll have to be tomorrow since you’re doing your placement now.” “No, it’ll be more like she’ll chew me up, let me sit in her stomach acids for a while before she regurgitates me and then spits me out.” The blonde mumbled. Without missing a beat Lexa quips, “She’s not into self inflicted discomfort. She wouldn’t even waste the energy trying to chew. Now stop being a drama-queen and let’s go.” She really couldn’t understand Clarke’s reluctance. Indra is the most passive person on the face of this earth. Perhaps a bit direct with her words, but her bark was worse than her bite. They borrowed O’s car and Lexa was driving. No offense to Clarke, but she didn’t quite trust her to drive right now. The woman looked like the brunette was marching her to her execution. There was no one more important to her than Clarke and Indra, and they were going to have this breakfast. She reiterated, “Please try and relax. And be yourself .” In spite of Clarke’s verbal opposition, it had been the blondes idea to go to the store to make breakfast for Indra at the house rather than pick something up. Lexa had liked the more personal effort and quickly agreed. So they had picked up some bacon and eggs with some juice to go with it. Indra wasn’t a picky eater. She’d eat anything. But Lexa didn’t bother telling that to the blonde as the woman fussed over what to buy, before Clarke finally settled on bacon and eggs stating, “Bacon. Everyone likes bacon right?” As soon she let them into the house, Clarke automatically painted on that wide smile and Lexa had to raise a brow at her and whispered once again, “Yourself Clarke, be yourself.” The smile faltered and Clarke bit her lip. Lexa sighed, she had no idea how they were going to get through this without the woman giving herself an anxiety attack and they haven’t even greeted her mother yet. Honestly though, she believed Clarke’s nervousness stemmed more from her reiterating over and over to be herself than she was about actually meeting Indra as her significant other. But she wanted Indra to know Clarke. Not Teacher Clarke. It was important to Lexa that they got to know each other and that they liked one another. That would only happen if the blonde didn’t hide at all. She placed a hand on the small Clarke’s back. The blonde was stiff. She applied pressure and they went to the dining room. Indra was already at the table. Not that Lexa had expected anything else. “We brought food.” She said lifting up the bag to Indra. “But we have to cook it.” Indra’s eyes were lit up with something that Lexa wasn’t familiar with. “Sounds good.” “Good morning.” Clarke greeted. “I’d love to cook for you.” Lexa did everything she could not to roll her eyes at the blonde. She deflected saying “Actually, I’d like to show off my cooking skills. You’ve both helped me learn to cook.” She figured if she cooked, then that would allow the two women to talk without her presence interfering. Clarke didn’t disagree, she sat down and Lexa could see the woman was tapping her thighs under the table. “Would either of you like a glass of juice before I put it in the fridge?” She asked. Indra nodded, and Clarke declined with a polite but quiet “No, thank you.” Lexa poured Clarke a glass anyway.  The blonde would probably get some comfort in hiding behind it at some point no matter how useless the effort might be. Indra just arched a brow at her and Lexa shrugged going into the kitchen.  She pulled out her phone and turned on some music, setting the volume up loud. She wanted to provide them with some privacy and didn’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation; if there were any.  She started to cook the bacon. She knew that Clarke liked her bacon chewy. Lexa personally preferred her bacon crispy. Indra never complained so she decided to make her mothers crispy as well. But when it came to the eggs, it occurred to her that she had no idea how the blonde liked her eggs. She had never seen Clarke eat eggs before. Rather than interrupting them Lexa just scrambled all their eggs and made some toast to go with it. She served their plates to them and sat down to Clarke’s right and placed her left hand on the blondes thigh. Lexa was surprised the blonde hadn’t given herself a cramp with how tense her thigh muscles were. She tried to reassure the woman by squeezing gently. Clarke refused to acknowledge the action, instead she said. “Looks good Lexa. Thanks.” “So how did you two get to know each other?” Indra asked. Lexa glanced at the blonde. She was playing with her food, shifting it around on her plate. The brunette knew that her mother had asked that question to be inclusive of them both.  She was going to answer but it was Clarke who did instead. “At the track. I didn’t do any racing in Polis, and Lexa was there. I wanted to catch up with her and see how she was doing.” It was an honest answer even if her voice was quieter than usual. “Yeah, Anya had challenged us best out of three to race, and you threw the deciding race - again.” Lexa pitched in to try and alleviate some of Clarke’s discomfort. The blonde nodded, “We don’t do much. Just little things.” Indra hummed in acknowledgement that was just so Indra of her. It seemed to be Clarke’s final straw as she said. “I’m sorry, I’m not really hungry. I don’t mean to be rude.” Lexa knew it was true. Clarke never ate a lot, and she didn’t eat at all if she was nervous or bothered by something. So she said the only thing she could “It’s fine.” The blonde darted up taking her plate with her into the kitchen. Indra’s brow immediately arched at Lexa and she said quietly. “That isn’t Clarke Griffin.” “Be nice.” Lexa pleaded. “I told you she was different.” Her mother nodded and said nothing further. When Clarke returned, Lexa made small talk with her mother trying to ease the amount of the engagement required for Clarke, and occasionally the blonde would nod her head here and there, or make a small contribution herself. Indra’s behaviour never changed. Calm, impassive and observant. It was her mother who let out a yawn and stated she needed to go to bed so she could get up for work in the evening. Clarke said her goodbyes with a meek smile and Lexa gave her mother a hug. When they walked towards O’s car and she took out the car keys, Clarke took them from her hand and got into the driver's seat. Everything in her told her to keep quiet and she listened to that voice. Clarke never said anything as she drove, eventually she turned on the radio loudly. They didn’t drive to the Blake’s right away. The blonde seemed to just be driving aimlessly. She couldn’t make out the expression on her face. It seemed to be carefully stoic and she had no direct line of sight to see what blue eyes would tell her. Lexa was slowly getting worried for time. Weekends meant she worked a full day. The blonde seemed to be aware of this because they started heading into the direction of the Blake’s. When they arrived at the house Clarke tossed O’s car keys onto the table and went to her room, and Lexa followed her. The blonde had her back to the brunette as she took off her shirt and put a more comfortable one on. She decided to leave the room and give Clarke some time to recover while she took a shower. After putting on her uniform, Lexa returned to Clarke’s bedroom to find her facing the window and looking out of it. So she was unable to see her features.  Lexa bit her lip. She didn’t know what to do. She walked up behind Clarke, careful not to touch her and said, “Thank you for trying. It means a lot that you did. I know that was hard for you.” Clarke made a sound in her throat. “Are you mad at me?” Lexa asked. Eventually Clarke did turn around, she just looked resigned. “No, I’m not mad at you. I have no reason to be. It was just a bit much. I know really it wasn’t. It just seemed that way to me.” The words did little to reassure her. Clarke seemed to sense this because she said, “We’re ok. I just need to wind down while you’re at work.” It didn’t feel ok. But she didn’t have a choice except to trust it. She used O’s car to go to work, Smiley’s bright personality had provided a good distraction for how the morning had gone. He had improved his pool playing quite a bit. He even beat her without her letting him. She hosted a two square competition for the kids, and engaged with the more isolated looking children throughout the day. About half an hour before her shift ended, Titus called her into the office, and handed her a piece of paper. Reading it over, she grinned. Her three month trial period was over and the new contract was for full-time employment.  Five hours on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. Eight and a half hours on Saturday and Sunday. She would only get paid for thirty out of the thirty-two hours a week she worked but was able to have one day off a month of her choosing. She eagerly read through the new contract before signing it. The new contract wouldn’t take place for another two weeks. But now she has reliable and steady work. When Lexa got to the Blake’s to share the news with Clarke, she found no sign of the blonde and when she asked O about it, the other brunette had just said that Clarke went for a ride but didn’t say where she was going. She sighed, she had forgotten about earlier in her excitement about her promotion. She got back into O’s car. Clarke wouldn’t be at the track at 8:30pm. It would be too dark. So she went to the construction site. Clarke wasn’t there either, nor was she at the foreshore and she wasn’t answering her phone. Lexa found her by pure luck. She happened to be driving past the skate park when she recognised the blonde’s bike. She parked and jogged over. Clarke had installed bike pegs. And she was grinding the funbox. The blonde rode up the ramp and attempted some sort of stall trick Lexa didn’t know the name of and Clarke fell, the sound of her helmet hitting the pavement loudly causing the brunette to flinch. Clarke rolled onto her back and spread herself out in the same way she had the day Lexa had seen her in the middle of the track. She walked over to her. “Are you alright?” Lexa hated the blonde’s helmet and goggles. It hid any vision to her facial expression and eyes. Clarke nodded her head but made no attempt to move. The brunette did the only thing she could think of. She lowered herself and laid down on the pavement next to her. The pavement was hard and uncomfortable underneath her. She didn’t know why Clarke wanted to stay here like this. She focused her eyes ahead. It wasn’t a cloud free night. She closed her eyes. Eventually Clarke’s gloved hand took her glove free hand and just held it. She said, “I got promoted today.” Gloved hands squeezed hers, and the blonde’s response was muffled but genuine, “You deserve it. I’m proud of you.” “I tried to call you.” Lexa said. The response was quiet. “My phone was on silent.” “Clarke, can we go home?” She asked. “If you want.” Was the reply. The tone didn’t indicate a preference. Lexa stood herself up and turned around to help Clarke up. She tilted the woman’s head and undid her helmet, taking it off. Clarke’s expression was tired and tense but there was a fondness there that reassured the brunette. Clarke picked up her bike and loaded onto O’s car. The Blake’s were asleep by the time they got home, and the blonde insisted Lexa shower first. Lexa figured that the woman might want to have some breathing space tonight so she laid on the couch. Clarke took a long time in the shower, so long the brunette felt disappointed and began to will herself to sleep. She guessed she had fallen asleep because she was awoken by Clarke shaking her. The blonde didn’t look like she felt any better, but her raspy voice said, “Come to bed Lexa.” It was Clarke who pressed herself to Lexa kissing the back of her neck as they went to bed. Even though the woman had been distant for most of the day, Lexa appreciated the small act of reassurance. It said a lot to her. She closed her eyes and fell back asleep. Lexa was confused, and she was frustrated. Following the Saturday morning breakfast with Indra, the weekend had passed with an even more quieter and withdrawn Clarke. The blonde wasn’t shutting her out completely and Lexa could see that the woman was trying to maintain some connection, but it was less than what they had.  The blonde had spoken fewer words and their physical intimacy had changed in nature. Clarke still went out of her way to hold her hand, to cuddle her in bed and all the lesser touches that most couples might consider to be normal and frequent.  But now that Lexa’s had a taste of more, it was difficult to handle less. Lexa was afraid of the past couple of days becoming the normal standard. She knew it wasn’t true, and that the blonde required time to process and get over her discomfort, and that perhaps not long ago the woman would have locked herself in her room and completely disengaged, but it did little to ease Lexa’s own feelings of insecurity. Also, the nagging idea of sex had been tugging at her. Not that she thought that they were ready nor was she really wanting it. Previously Lexa had always just kind of never thought about it. But she had become more curious about the subject matter. The brunette wasn’t sure if this was because of the increasing, then decreasing connection with Clarke or if she was just going through a normal phase of curiosity on the matter. She found it difficult to not be able to compare her relationship with Costia to Clarke. Costia and her had never fought, and for the large majority of the relationship, they were happy just being. They had physical intimacy and lots of it, and Lexa really didn’t have any interest in sex. But they never really tried to get to know each other in depth. They had never worked to understand each other or wanted each other so much they both searched for a common ground to make it work. It just was. Her relationship with Clarke was of course the opposite, even the smallest of touches was such a big thing for them. They had an understanding of each other that Lexa hadn’t thought was possible with anyone. No, they didn’t do things with each other, but they also didn’t need to. They just knew. All they had to do was look into their eyes and they just knew. As erratic as unstable as their relationship sometimes made Lexa feel, it was so much more than what she had with Costia. The blonde was much better at reading people than she was. Clarke did try to do the right thing. But more often that not, the woman held herself back; and while she did initially fight Lexa on any form of intimacy, now that she’s accepted whatever it is they have, she did push her own boundaries in small ways. The brunette knew that the breakfast with Indra might be considered a blind leap for Clarke, and Lexa had no words to be able to acknowledge that to her. Lexa just kind of wanted to show her. No, Lexa didn’t think they were in love. But she believed maybe one day they could be. She was lying in bed with her phone out in front of her with an e-book on display. She didn’t process any of the words as these thoughts swirled around her. She lifted her eyes to Clarke’s form, hunched over her desk writing a review of her day for her placement that she was required to do for her unit. Lexa was also scared. Her new work hours and Clarke’s placement meant that their daily time together would be extremely reduced. Clarke often left the house on weekdays at 7:30am and got home at around 3:30pm. Lexa’s ‘weekends’ were Wednesday and Thursday, and she worked full days on the actual weekend. She wanted their closer connection back. Lexa got up and went to the kitchen, fixing up a couple of sandwiches and a small salad and bringing them back to the room placing Clarke’s plate on the right of the desk. The blonde lifted her head and gave a small smile which she returned. Clarke only ate her salad, and as she stood up to stretch, Lexa placed her own plate on the desk and stepped into the woman’s personal space causing Clarke to lower her arms and look into her eyes. The brunette could see confusion in those serious blues, and the woman’s posture showed no signs of tension. Lexa wanted their connection back. She placed her hands on Clarke's hips and pulled the woman closer to her. Lexa closed her eyes to concentrate on the smell of the blonde as she inhaled deeply. Hands were on her face, thumbs gently brushing along her cheeks, and the soft voice of Clarke asked, “Lexa?” Lexa shook her head. She didn’t want to talk. She just wanted to be close to her. The brunette’s hands went under Clarke’s shirt, feeling the smooth softness of her stomach. She could hear and feel as Clarke started taking deeper breaths when she moved her hands higher to her ribcage, and listened to her gasp when Lexa extended her thumbs to brush the bottom of her breast. Clarke’s arms lifted to wrap around her neck and Lexa kissed the blonde’s jaw and made no further movement. She didn’t want sex, and she was sure that Clarke didn’t either. She just wanted their connection back. “Lexa.” The blonde’s voice came out strained. She opened her eyes, to look into those expressive blue ones that showed more black than blue. They showed no fear, Lexa was confused. Those blue eyes showed concern and confusion. Lexa didn’t want to talk. She just wanted to hold her like this. She shook her head again, and Clarke seemed to understand. The arms that held her neck brushed her way down her shoulders, upper arms and continued to glide down until they settled on her waist, and Lexa lowered her head into the blonde's shoulder. They just stayed like that. She could feel the rapid beating of the woman's heart, and the steady, deep breaths of her. Lexa drowned herself in the physical sensations of them knowing that they were Clarke’s. Already she felt closer to her than she had five minutes ago. She needed this. She wanted more. Lexa lifted her hands up further, taking note of steady deep breaths starting to turn into shorter, faster breaths when her fingers spread across the blondes upper sides, and her thumbs traced the side of Clarke’s breast. She never stopped moving her thumbs, and she never moved to transition this into anything further. She knew, anything more would be too much. She didn’t know if it would be too much for her, or too much for Clarke. But the fact she’s done this, and the fact Clarke is letting her has said everything to Lexa. She removed her hands slowly and stepped back. Whatever blues were left in Clarke’s eyes were faint, and her expression did show some tension, even if the more dominant feeling was still concern. Lexa didn’t know whether she should be feeling offended or relieved that Clarke didn’t indicate that she want more. It confused her. Didn’t the woman say she wanted her? “Do you wanna get out of here?” Clarke asked quietly. Lexa couldn’t help but chuckle at the wording. The phrase was usually associated with taking someone home as a one night stand in some cliche movie. She knew that’s not how Clarke intended the question. Lexa nodded her head.  The blonde asked O if they could borrow her car again and with permission Clarke drove them to the foreshore. Lexa didn’t need to ask why the woman always took them there. The sounds of the waves, and the gentle sea breeze and the sight of the horizon made the atmosphere calming in times when things didn’t seem so calm. Clarke didn’t impose herself onto her. She stood off to the brunette’s side. Lexa knew that Clarke wouldn’t ask the question. The blonde would wait for her to decide if she wanted to speak about it. Lexa didn’t want to because her feelings didn’t make sense to her. They seemed irrational, and she wasn’t at her limit to be pushed into letting it all out. Instead, Lexa took comfort in the fact Clarke was here if she needed her. She took comfort in the sound and feeling of the foreshore. Perhaps Clarke wasn’t the best at actively and physically maintaining connection, but the passive constant of Clarke’s presence and her innate ability to allow Lexa to make her own choices without any pressure was a type of connection in itself. Clarke wholly accepted her. She needed reassurance. Quietly Lexa asked, “What do you want from me?” Clarke’s actions and words confused her, as the blonde gave a small smile and just as quietly said, “Nothing.” In spite of the understanding and thoughts she had a minute ago, the words made her feel inadequate. Why didn’t Clarke want more from her? It was irrational. Nothing was making sense. “I have everything I need and want from you.” Clarke reassured her. It didn’t make sense. She wanted more, and she didn’t know what it was she wanted that was ‘more’, and Clarke was happy with how things were. She didn’t understand if her feelings were a reflection of herself, or of Clarke herself; and to add further to her confusion the physical distance and the words made Lexa feel closer to the woman than when she had been touching her earlier. It didn’t make a lot of sense. Perhaps she was just feeling out of sorts today and needed to sleep it off. She would probably feel better in the morning. Clarke was sitting on the couch with an arm wrapped around Lexa. She was watching Lexa from the corner of her eyes. She didn’t particularly care for movies, or was it a TV episode of something? She didn’t know. She hadn’t been paying attention to whatever Bell had chosen. TV was just not all that mentally stimulating. But what she did know was that something was wrong. Lexa was usually the more assertive one out of them both, generally more at ease with sharing her thoughts or feelings or the things she wanted. Not that Clarke didn’t have any of her own, just that it didn’t take a lot to make her happy. She never thought she’d find someone who she could relate to or understand and vise versa. That in itself was everything and more that the blonde could have hoped for, for herself. But Lexa had been different over the last couple of weeks. She had been more bolder in her physical exploration, and more frequent with it, and less open about what it was that was bothering her. Clarke got the feeling that the brunette was searching for something, something that Lexa obviously believed only Clarke herself had the answer to. The usually calm quiet demeanor of the brunette had been replaced by a more hesitant one. There was more contemplative staring occurring, more lip biting, and the touches.. The touches that almost seemed as if Lexa was trying to establish a newer or higher level of closeness between them. Sometimes the touches made her think that the brunette was trying to drive her to sexual insanity. But she never touched back. Clarke always let Lexa go as far as she wanted to. Clarke wasn’t sure how Lexa felt about these types of touches or how receptive she’d be to receiving them and the blonde never pressed. Letting Lexa set the boundaries, even if it were getting more difficult for the blonde to restrain herself. She didn’t believe that the brunette was wanting to change the nature of what made their relationship with each other. Lexa always withdrew from her physical explorations, making a clear indication that she wasn’t looking for sex. There were never any suggestions or indications for them to go out and do more. Lexa just seemed verbally more reserved than usual, and more physical than usual. Clarke didn’t know what to do because she wasn’t sure what was wrong. What she did try and do was be there for when or if Lexa needed her. She had made a more conscious effort to initiate conversation and smaller touches of reassurance. The efforts were acknowledged and received with a shine in those green eyes that Clarke was unable to know how to respond to. Lexa had never looked at her like that before recently. Clarke had never had that look directed at her before. But she knew what that look was. She’d seen the look before. It was both exhilarating and terrifying to have it directed at her. Clarke wasn’t quite ready to put a name to it yet. Because she thinks maybe, she also gives the same look to Lexa sometimes. “O’s right, sometimes you two are disgusting.” Bell said, breaking through her thoughts. Clarke couldn’t help the smirk that made its way to her lips as Lexa gave him the finger without so much as glancing at him. The blonde tightened her hold around Lexa, and the brunette gave a small smile of her own. The TV was turned off, causing both women’s attention to be turned to Bellamy as he stood up in front of them.  “I’m sick of being a loser, we’re going out.” He stated. She couldn’t help but bite her lip, their last major outting together had not ended well. She didn’t want a repeat of that. This time she didn’t answer for them both but instead let Lexa make the decision. Clarke hadn’t expected Lexa to agree, so when the nod of agreement was made followed by the verbal “Ok. Let’s go.” by her, the blonde was surprised. Lexa stood from the couch holding out her hand for Clarke to take. The brunette’s expression showed determination as she bit her lip. While Clarke didn’t understand what this was about, she knew that there was something to be proven or found if Lexa’s demeanor said anything. She took her hand and squeezed the hand before she was pulled to her feet. A club. Bellamy took them to a fucking club. She didn’t mind bars, but there was something oppressive in the way clubs made her feel. A feeling that seemed to be mirrored in Lexa if the uncertainty of her expression was anything to go by. The night started out just like last time, there were jokes, smiles and laughter by all of them. What occurred unlike last time though was that a redhead with a brunette friend had approached them and the redhead seemed to know Lexa. Now that was interesting. Clarke learned the redhead’s name was Sarah and the brunette was Dianne. Lexa didn’t seem to know who Dianne was. They seemed friendly enough though. She couldn’t help but choke on her drink in surprise when Sarah had asked Lexa for a repeat of the last time they met, for a dance. Lexa had shifted her eyes awkwardly in question to Clarke and in concern. Clarke really didn’t care if Lexa danced with Sarah. She was more surprised that Lexa had danced with the woman period. She smiled at them and Lexa received the message. The brunette agreed to the dance even if it were with a hint of reluctance and Clarke was mesmerised. She had never seen Lexa dance before and the way the brunette danced reflected who Lexa was. Controlled, explorative, cautious but willing. She couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. Even though Sarah and Lexa were dancing, Lexa never once pressed their bodies together. She rediverted her attention to Dianne. Who also seemed to be watching the two women. There was a crease between the woman’s brows and a frown on her face. Clarke would bet her bottom dollar that Dianne was interested in Sarah, even if it hadn’t appeared that the two women were together. She stood up and offered her hand to Dianne with a mischievous smirk on her face, “Let’s dance, then we can steal them back.” The brunette smirked in response and accepted the idea, Clarke took them next to Sarah and Lexa, and began dancing, and even though they were dancing with other people, their eyes never strayed from each other.  Lexa didn’t appear angry or worried, but she wasn’t quite comfortable if the flick of the green eyes between her and Dianne’s bodies meant anything. Clarke grinned at Lexa, and said loud enough for the other three to hear her, “Time to switch it up.” Smoothly they disengaged, and Clarke pressed herself into Lexa, and the brunette held her close. She asked her loudly to try and be heard over the music, “Are you ok?” Lexa swallowed and nodded her head as they continued to sway to the music. She wasn’t ok. Tension was rolling off of the brunette in waves, and any flow that Lexa had dancing with Sarah had become non-existant with her. It was too dark to see the light in Lexa’s eyes. Clarke couldn’t see what the woman’s eyes would usually tell her. The blonde pressed harder against her so that she could stand on her toes and be closer to Lexa’s ear so she didn't have to shout, “Do you want to go home?” Lexa nodded again. Clarke pulled out her phone and messaged Bellamy to let him know and ordered an uber. The blonde didn’t think she was in trouble. There was no anger in the brunette’s posture. Neither of them said anything in the uber on the way home. Under the lights of the house she could finally see what Lexa’s eyes were saying. Lexa was aroused. Her pupils were dilated and there was a slight flush to her skin colour. Clarke couldn’t help but feel a bit smug at this discovery. She hadn’t realised that her smugness took the form of a playful smile until Lexa had gripped her hips hard and kissed her with force with a demanding tongue. The kiss made Clarke lose her senses. She found it difficult to ground herself, when just as quickly when Lexa released her and practically ran into the bathroom. The blonde shook her head more to get her bearings back than anything else. After Lexa exited the shower, Clarke took one herself. A cold one. Lexa honestly had no idea how she affected her. It was both endearing and frustrating. Lexa was not in the bedroom when she went there. Clarke found her on the couch. Lexa choosing the couch was never a good sign. To Clarke it meant that the brunette was insecure about something, something to do with her. She knelt down in front of the couch and brushed the slightly still wet brown locks out of Lexa’s face causing the woman to open her eyes and look at her. Lexa was not ok, her eyes were stormy. Lexa closed her eyes again and didn’t move. “Come to bed?” She asked. The brunette didn’t answer, and she didn’t move. Clarke turned around and sat on the floor, using the couch as a backrest saying nothing further. Lexa needed time. That was ok. She would be here if Lexa needed her or wanted to talk. She started humming and Lexa’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. She woke up to Bellamy slurring, “You two really are disgusting, have you even had a date yet?” Clarke yawned and stood up stretching hearing the cracks in her back. “We don’t need to go on dates.” It was more than she usually said about such things. “Explain it to me Princess.” He said. She shrugged, how could she explain that it had more to do with how they felt with each other than what they did together? How could she explain their relationship foundations of a relationship that didn’t seem conventional to those around them? That it was more important to them that there was an innate understanding of them as people than it was about creating grand gestures that didn’t seem natural for either one of them? She sighed, and just said. “We just are Bell.” He was confused, he didn’t get it. She didn’t expect he would. “Well that doesn’t tell me anything. Just give it a go. It’ll let her know how much you care.” “It tells you everything.” She replied ignoring the encouragement. Clarke didn’t expect many people would get it. But it didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was that her and Lexa got it. The blonde never really understood the purpose of dates. Information gathered during dates seemed superficial and skin deep. She didn’t particularly give a rats ass what her significant others favourite colour is, or what their hobbies were. What Clarke cared about knowing was how their mind and heart worked, and she felt that dates created a sort of unnatural environment to really find those things out. But even with that thought, she wondered if Bellamy had a point. Before Bell could say anything else she said, “Go to bed Bell, you’re slurring.” She watched Bellamy shake his head going into the hall and she went to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. Now that Bell had woken her up, she was up. She sat at the table when Lexa’s voice floated through, “Don’t listen to him. We’re fine the way we are.” She drank her water then said, “Sorry for waking you up.” “You didn’t, he’s a noisy drunk.” Lexa said, her voice heavy with sleep. “Do you want to go to bed? It’s more comfortable there.” Clarke asked. Lexa got up, and she mumbled. “It’s more comfortable with you. I don’t care about the bed.” She gave the brunette a soft smile. “If you go to bed, I’ll come with you.” Change. Change could be scary because the fallout was unknown. She bit her lip. It’s not like the change was huge or unknown. Lexa knew that Clarke had been looking for a house of her own now that all she had left for her course was to wait for her grades. It was difficult to believe that the blonde had already done her 30 days placement for her three units. Either way, Clarke had reapplied for a position at Arkadia Preschool or Arkadia Highschool, and depending on whether or not she passed depended on what job she would go for. But Arkadia High had hired her as a full time temporary staff member for now starting Monday. This weekend, Clarke would also start moving into her house. Lexa hadn’t seen the place for herself yet, but the blonde said it was three bedrooms and had a decent sized garage and two bathrooms. Without using so many words, Clarke had also implied that Lexa was welcome to put her own personal touches to the place. Not that Lexa owned much to do it. But it made sense to at least bring a few sets of clothes over. It wasn’t that Lexa was opposed or against making her mark on the house in any way, it was once again the prospect of change that made her hesitant. How would this affect their relationship and each other, assuming that it would at all. Usually their only form of privacy had been to leave the Blake’s house, or to hide in the bedroom. Regardless, she had scheduled in a rostered day off for today to assist Clarke, the Blakes and even Lincoln with retrieving the blonde’s things from storage and assisting with the moving. She sorta wondered if she was glutton for self punishment. Lexa just seemed to put herself in awkward situations sometimes. In this case the self punishment wasn’t the labour involved in moving. It was a hot day and Clarke had opted to wear light coloured clothing. A very, very light blue tank top that seemed more like a white with a hint of blue to it, and a pair of teal coloured shorts. The top damp with sweat had left little to the imagination as it clung to her. To top it off it seemed that moving had put the blonde in a really good mood since she had set up her bluetooth speaker at loud volume and would sing along or whistle as she unpacked the boxes. She could understand Clarke’s good mood. Moving meant her own space. It hadn’t escaped Lexa’s notice that even with the Blake’s for as relaxed as Clarke could be with them, the blonde was never quite as relaxed as she was with her. Clarke was in such a good mood while she was doing this that when she walked past Lexa humming to the music, the woman gave her a peck on the cheek and continued on as if nothing happened. She kinda wanted to see more of this from the blonde.  It was weird in the way that Clarke’s happiness affected her own, as though it were something contagious. Still, the nagging suspicion that their relationship was missing something stayed in the back of her mind, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Lexa had been unable to shake the feeling and unable to identify it. It was an emotion that she hasn’t experienced before, and it left her feeling like she was awkward and floundering again. Lexa didn’t think it was a bad thing whatever it was. But it was eating at her simply because she wanted it and didn’t know what ‘it’ was. Sometimes it felt like it was within her grasp when she touched the blonde, but when Clarke never reciprocated or never seemed affected, the feeling disappeared and she was left feeling temporarily empty. She hasn’t had the courage to ask Clarke about it, or if Clarke felt the same way. She knew Clarke was waiting for her to talk about it. But Lexa didn’t know how because she didn’t know what the problem was. Lexa jumped when she felt Clarke hug her from behind. She heard the blonde chuckle softly before she asked, “Wanna take a break and order a pizza?” She wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. But she liked the feeling of being in the woman’s arms. She leaned back into her, and gave a non answer in the form of a hum, causing another chuckle from Clarke. Clarke took one of her hands and pressed something in it, before releasing the hand. Lexa looked at it. House keys. Not just one house key. But all the keys to the house. The act made her heart thump in her chest and she closed her hand around the items. They said nothing about it. There was nothing to be said about it. Clarke’s invitation and Lexa’s acceptance eliminated the need for words. Lexa could do this. She wanted to. She was eager to. She turned around and kissed Clarke gently and said, “Let’s turn this place into a home.” Lexa had seen many kinds of smiles from Clarke, But never before had she seen such a smile that she received in this moment. It was closed lipped, but wide, with her blue eyes lit up brightly almost as if unrestrained. But on top of all those things, it was completely genuine. Beautiful didn’t seem adequate to describe it. It wasn’t the act of Clarke smiling or the fact she thought that the woman was beautiful herself. But the message in the smile was what made it beautiful. A message that Lexa didn’t know how to translate into words. Lexa couldn’t help her own big smile that crept onto her fact. The blonde winked, and sauntered off saying “I’m ordering pineapple!” By pure reflex Lexa quipped, “No you’re not.” They were both right.  Clarke ordered a half and half.  They slept on the queen mattress on the floor that night. They hadn’t assembled the base yet. But Lexa didn’t care, and apparently neither did Clarke because even though they were in a new place. They were in a new place together. They laid there with Clarke pressed up against her back. They hadn’t spoken much since laying down. They were both tired from the day. But the words that Clarke did speak, Lexa guessed would usually be impactful, or relationship altering. But that’s not how she felt when she heard them. It was a fact. Something that she felt she had known without knowing it. They weren’t said nervously, or shyly. Clarke said them as if they had been said so many times to each other. “I love you.” The words put so many puzzle pieces together that Lexa had been feeling were out of place. Not all the puzzle pieces, but most. The words were fulfilling, and she was filled with a warmth at hearing them. Almost complete. Lexa was glad Clarke hadn’t made a big deal out of saying them. Because it made her reply so much easier. She said just as steadily, “I love you too.” There was no verbal reply, just a tightening of arms. The next morning reality seemed to hit them. Lexa had accepted, and now she had to tell Indra. Clarke turned jittery again, but insisted she come with Lexa saying it was the right thing to do. It filled Lexa with overwhelming fondness that Clarke would do that with her. They entered Indra’s house, and even though Clarke was more or less a nervous wreck, her eyes held a steely determination. Indra greeted them both as calmly as she always had, and nervously herself Lexa slid Indra’s house key over to her. Clarke said quietly, “I’m moving into a new house, and asked Lexa to move in with me.” Lexa shifted her weight. It was absurd that she was more nervous right now than Clarke was. Lexa couldn’t form any words to speak to her mother. Indra’s eyes flicked between the house key, Clarke and Lexa several times before slid the key back to Lexa and she arched a brow and said, “It’s about time. From my point of view you two moved in together months ago. Keep the key. Even if you have another home, this will always be your home too.” She went to her mother, and her mother stood up, Lexa hugged her tightly for a long time. It wasn’t nerves that prevented her from speaking now. It was love and appreciation for everything that Indra does and is. Indra repeated the words she’s said so many times before quietly, “I’m proud of you Lexa.” It made her cry. She didn’t know why she was crying. She didn’t feel sad. But she was overwhelmed. She stood back and wiped her face, and looked for Clarke. Clarke wasn’t here anymore. It was Indra who answered her unasked question. “For an idiot, she’s sharp. She went to your room to give us some privacy.” Lexa hugged her mother again, and said. “I love you.” They didn’t take all of Lexa’s things. Only her necessities, like clothes and such. Lexa wanted an excuse to come back by herself and do something special for Indra, just the two of them. Work was a bit rough for her. A teen had come in sporting bruises and a withdrawn demeanor. The teen had opened up to Lexa sharing what had occurred in the home. The Duty of Care Act required that the brunette report the incident. So Lexa informed him that she was obligated by law to do it. It had made the teen irate. He yelled things at her that shook her to the core, like that he had trusted her and didn’t want anyone to know. That he didn’t want to go back into care again. Now Lexa wasn’t ‘required’ to inform the teen that she was legally obligated to report her sightings and what he had told her. She had informed him more out of a courtesy than anything else. But still his words shook her to the core. Being in care hit closer to home than the young teen could ever imagine. Even though she knew she would be required to report things, it had never been a conscious thought that the action could result in a young person being put into a home. She had known it, but not known it at the same time. How could she have been so stupid? But even so, a home was safer than his parents' place if the bruises were anything to go by. Family Services requested that they keep the boy at The Shack until a Social Worker came to pick him up to interview him. She went home to find Clarke had almost finished unpacking everything. The blonde was hanging up a picture on the wall when Lexa walked through the door. Immediately Clarke put the picture down and hurried over to her. As was normal for the woman, Clarke never asked. Clarke just wrapped her arms around her and swayed their bodies gently as tears started running down Lexa’s face. Eventually Lexa said, “I put a boy in foster care today.” It didn’t matter that it was the right thing to do. It didn’t matter that he was probably safer in the system than at home. It didn’t matter that she had been required to do it. The reality that she had put a person in the same situation she had been in was overwhelming, and she didn’t know how to handle the fact she had broken his trust. There was nothing she considered to be more valuable than trust. Clarke didn’t try to comfort her with words. Words would do little to ease the things she felt, and she was grateful the blonde didn’t attempt to. Instead Clarke comforted her by being there, by knowing that Lexa didn’t want words, she continued to hold her firmly and offered no judgement for Lexa’s tears or for her admission.  Instead Clarke had eventually let go, and ran a bubble bath for her. Lexa stripped down and allowed herself to soak in the water. The blonde knocked on the door softly, and asked if she could come in. The bubbles covered her body, but her modesty was something she cared little about right now. So she gave her permission. Clarke had come in with a pitcher, and a small stepping stool. Clarke asked her to submerge her head for a moment. She obeyed, and didn’t bother opening her eyes when she brought her head above the surface of the water. Lexa sighed as hands massaged some shampoo into her hair. The act was relaxing in the face of her emotions. She heard the sink run, and a hand tilt her head up before warm water began rinsing the shampoo out. Clarke repeated the steps with the conditioner, before leaving the bathroom with the stool and pitcher. When she was feeling much better, she finally got out of the bath, and dried and brushed her hair before getting dressed. Clarke was sitting down on the floor leaning against a wall in the bedroom watching her silently as she came in. “Thank you.” Lexa said. Now that she had let out what she was feeling without any judgement she felt back to normal almost. A bit drained, but emotionally stable again. Clarke offered her no words. Just that smile. The same one that she had given her the day before. Lexa lowered herself onto the mattress, and Clarke joined her, and pressed her body to Lexa’s back again. This was the best thing after a hard day. Lexa smiled. She could do this. When Lexa first came to Arkadia the idea of home had been a place to rest her head and to eat. When Lexa came to trust and love Indra home had then become a place that she belonged to. But the idea of a home with Clarke had too evolved. Home was no longer a place where she came home to, to someone. Now it was a place that she also shared responsibility for with someone that she loved. There was a significant difference in their house compared to their previous homes too. Clarke didn’t put up her photos of Wells, Finn and her parents like she had done before. Instead she had removed those photos from a frame and gave them to Lexa with some photos of her, or her and Costia at her first Tri Meet Races that O had taken of them. The blonde was definitely messier of the two of them. Her work for school was often either spread out on the coffee table in the living room or on the dining room table. Organisation was important to Lexa, so despite that the blonde did most of the cooking the brunette had ended up rearranging the kitchen to her preference, along with the bedroom. Clarke didn’t seem to care or mind as her only reaction had been to raise a brow and smile when she had noticed. With their different work schedules it was often Clarke who cooked breakfast and dinner for them, leaving Lexa to (in the blondes playful words) ‘fend for herself’ for lunch. She found herself missing the amount of time they spent together. More often than not Lexa woke up to Clarke having already left for work, with a note and breakfast in the microwave or fridge depending on what she prepared. The brunette found herself the one doing the bulk of the housework considering she had more freetime than Clarke. She didn’t mind. When Lexa came home from work at 8:30pm, the blonde was usually finishing up doing whatever work for school that she had to. The change in frequency with their interactions bothered her. She was used to sharing looks with the blonde when she woke up, or as they ate. Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln occasionally came over on the ‘real’ weekends. Then there were Wednesdays and Thursdays her ‘weekend’. Lexa found herself riding again more frequently and it was a good outlet for her frustrations regarding the missing pieces with the blonde. She still couldn’t figure it out. She was happier with Clarke than she had ever been previously. So Lexa knew it had nothing to do with Clarke herself, and she knew it had nothing to do with herself also. But it was something to do with them. Tonight when she came home from work, Clarke was not hunched over a stack of papers, nor was there any note left. The blonde had left a wrapped plate of dinner on the counter for her. She heard the soft sound of music playing outside. So that’s where Clarke was. She would go check on her after she’s eaten and had a shower. Running around with young people was hot and sweaty work. Opening the back door, the backyard was lit up by their spotlights, and there was Clarke with a shovel in her hand digging a hole, with some potted plants beside her. She shook her head in amusement. It would be just after 9pm and here was Clarke fucking gardening. The woman seemed to be engrossed in her task and Lexa waited until Clarke had finished planting one of the potted plants before clearing her throat, causing the blonde to squeak and jump. “Lexa!” Clarke yelped. She couldn’t help but chuckle. For whatever reason, she just found it funny. “Why are you gardening at this hour?” Lexa asked, with an arched brow. Clarke wiped the side of her face in an attempt to rid herself of the sweat making its way down. Instead what the woman accomplished was smearing a streak of dirt down her face causing Lexa to laugh more. “Because it’s cooler now than it is during the day.” The blonde said as if it were obvious. She supposed the reasoning was. But it wouldn’t have occurred to plant trees at night because of the heat. Strangely the answer prompted a thought that had nothing to do with the current topic. Lexa watched Clarke as she put the shovel away and watered the newly planted shrub.  Clarke knew, just like she always knew that Lexa was thinking. Because she asked simply, “What?” “Do you ever lose control?” Lexa asked. The talk about changing when to garden to manage the heat had made her realise that Clarke may just be a bit of a control freak when she considered all other things about the blonde. The question obviously confused Clarke, because the answer Lexa received was “Huh?” The brunette’s eyes followed her as the woman went to the tap and washed her hands and splashed her face. “Do you ever lose control? Of yourself? Of anything?” She repeated. Clarke’s voice was quieter, understanding this was a more deeper topic of conversation. “Sometimes, I try not to. It’s impossible to control everything.” Lexa wasn’t entirely sure she believed Clarke’s answer. She believed that Clarke believed her answer. To the brunette, Clarke never lost control. When they were out Clarke controlled the interactions of herself and the people she interacted with, and even if the blonde was emotional she quickly worked to regain control. Lexa never quite saw Clarke lose herself completely. She didn’t know how she felt about this thought. Lexa had lost control. She had lost control with Clarke twice in anger, and the night she came home from work crying.  She shook her head more at herself than at Clarke’s response. She felt that such thoughts and comparisons were trouble in the making where there was no trouble to be had. She looked up at Clarke to see the woman still watching her, and Lexa gave a small smile and tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Go take a shower, I can smell you from here.” Clarke, it turned out was petty. Because the blonde went out of her way to hug her making sure to press herself against Lexa with a grin, before releasing her and going to the bathroom. Lexa shook her head again, this time in amusement. Looks like she needed another shower since Clarke was kind enough to share her sweat and dirt. She turned off the lights, and bluetooth speaker, and brought it inside then waited for Clarke to get out so she could have another one. She groaned to herself as she left the bathroom wrapped only in a towel. She had been in her bed clothes when she went in, and it had slipped her mind to grab a new set of clothes. Lexa went into the bedroom and opened a drawer to borrow one of Clarke’s larger shirts when she heard the door open and a loud exhale. The brunette immediately straightened up and turned around. Clarke still had one hand on the doorknob as she stood in the middle of the doorway. Lexa couldn’t make out the expression on her face. Clarke was biting her lip. Not in nervousness, not in contemplation. Lexa didn’t recognise this one. Clarke’s eyes couldn’t seem to make it to her face. They seemed to be analysing her body language and posture. This also confused Lexa. Usually the woman couldn’t look away from her eyes unless she was uncomfortable. Even after scrutinising her non-verbal language. Clarke did not look uncomfortable, and Lexa didn’t understand her own response to the expression. She felt hot under the gaze and it made her heart pound faster. “Sorry, you dirtied my only set of pajamas . I hope you don’t mind if I borrow a shirt.” She said as an explanation. The blonde's eyes snapped to hers. Lexa could never understand why sometimes Clarke’s blues seemed to vanish. “Yeah, no problem.” The woman said, her voice was low and scratchy. Clarke left the room quickly and shut the door loudly on her way out. She sighed and got dressed. Lexa decided to make some hot chocolate. Hot chocolate made everyone feel better right? She handed Clarke a mug who gave a small smile a murmured “One day, you’re going to be the death of me.” Lexa grinned at the blonde. “Stop complaining. I thought everyone liked chocolate.” Clarke shook her head, but didn’t reply. Lexa knew she was missing something. But whatever was missing didn’t seem to upset the blonde, so she didn’t ask and even if she were going to, she didn’t know what question to ask. Or maybe she was nervous to. She didn’t know which it was. That night Clarke faced away from her in their bed, and it was Lexa it held on to her. She could tell when the blonde had drifted off to sleep as the breathing evened out and the muscles relaxed. But Lexa herself couldn’t sleep. Lexa didn’t like not knowing things. Especially obvious things. Clarke’s expression was burned into her memory. She felt as if it were important, and she now knew the question she should have asked earlier. She shook Clarke gently. She needed to know. The blonde stirred but remained asleep. Lexa shook her harder and she could see in the faint light of the room the woman opening her eyes. “Lexa?” “Clarke, I need to ask you something.” She said. The woman sat up and rubbed her eyes before looking down at her. “Mmm?” Lexa could see she wasn’t quite coherent yet. So she waited for the blonde to stretch like she usually did when she woke up. She asked, “Before you ran out of the room before, what were you thinking?” All traces of sleep disappeared from Clarke, and the woman stared at the wall in the dark. Whatever the answer was, it was a topic they haven’t broached with each other. Lexa thought about it as Clarke refused to answer. “Clarke?” She asked. “Leave it be Lexa.” The woman said quietly. “Please tell me.” She asked again. Lexa saw the silhouette of Clarke turn to face her. She didn’t need the light to be bright to know that the blonde was looking thoughtfully at her. Clarke muttered the same words as before, “Jesus Lexa, you really are going to be the death of me.” “Please?” She prompted. The answer that Lexa received was not in the form of words. The response she got was Clarke rolling herself on top of her, one leg pressed between both of hers and Lexa couldn’t help the groan that escaped her at the action, and Clarkes mouth engulfed hers. This wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was a kiss that made Lexa’s mental faculties stop working. She found herself helpless under Clarke’s mouth and pressure of her leg and her body arched when the woman’s hand explored her ribcage like she had done so many times to Clarke. Clarke broke the kiss resting her forehead against hers. Her breathing was heavy and her hand stilled. Lexa remembered this. This was Clarke trying to ground herself. Lexa didn’t want Clarke to ground herself. Every answer to Lexa’s questions came at once. This was the missing piece. Like this, she felt safe, secure and loved and needy since she wanted more. No, she needed more right now. She found herself breathless in the face of these emotions under the weight of the blonde. She found she the need to make the woman above her feel these things too. All she could whisper was “Clarke.” Lexa wasn’t going to let Clarke do this, Clarke was not going to withdraw. She should have known that she would have to push the blonde like she’s had too for every other behavioural change in their relationship. She was going to make Clarke lose herself the way the woman was making her lose herself right now. “Clarke.” She said, her voice didn’t sound like it was her own. It was breathless, low and full of warmth. Lexa could feel the heartbeat of the blonde above her and heard her deep steady breaths as the woman tried to get a hold of what she was feeling. The brunette would bet even for as dark as it was those blue expressive eyes would be shut. She was determined to have those eyes shut for a different reason. Clarke loved her and Clarke wanted her. Lexa tilted her head up and slipped her tongue into the blonde's mouth. Lexa loved her and Lexa wanted her. Right now, she was going to give herself to Clarke, and in return Clarke would give herself to her. She rolled her hips causing the blonde to groan. Lexa rolled her hips again until Clarke got the message and rolled over so the brunette was straddling her thighs. Now on top, Lexa lifted the bottom of the woman's shirt and slowly slid it up and over her head and leaned down to nip at her neck. “Lexa.” Clarke gasped. She didn’t want Clarke to talk. There was no right time. There was no ‘the’ time. There was only now and what they felt for each other, and Lexa was going to prove that to her. Clarke’s hands clung to her tightly and she instinctively ground her hips into blonde. The friction the action created made her let out a sound she never heard from herself before. “Lexa.” Clarke said again. The brunette gently bit at the neck, and she muttered, “Shut up Clarke.”  She heard the blonde let out a growl and the woman sat up forcing her upright. One hand travelled around and gripped her ass holding her in place while another slid roughly under the borrowed shirt and fingers pressed and squeezed one of her breasts. Fucking finally.  She took off her own shirt and kissed Clarke again rocking her hips into her. Right now the fact that she had never had sex before never entered her mind. As Clarke had said so many times to her. She trusted her body and what it was doing. Even more importantly though she trusted Clarke. She trusted the physical and emotional sensations of the moment. For the intensity of all that she was feeling right now, she had never felt safer or more secure than right now. The hand that held her ass travelled up along her back and gripped her hair firmly pulling it forcing Lexa to break the kiss and tilt her head back. The feeling of Clarke’s lips kissing and licking down her neck as if she were being tasted left her feeling helpless. She couldn’t help but arch her back when lips took a nipple. She found herself powerless and bending to Clarke’s will under these ministrations coming from the person she loved. The blonde’s voice brought her back to reality somewhat as her mouth released her and Clarke repeated softly, “Lexa.” The fact that Clarke could still speak when Lexa herself had been speechless a moment ago gave her a flash of irritation. She didn’t want to hear Clarke speak. She wanted to feel Clarke do, she wanted to hear that Clarke needed her as much as she needed Clarke. She pushed the woman back so she was lying down again and got off her, sliding the blonde’s underwear down those legs and held herself on top again. The hand she wasn’t leaning on made their way down to Clarke’s navel. She couldn’t go any further. Because The blonde took her hand, and rolled them over so now that she was beneath her.  A tongue pried her lips opened and without hesitation she opened for it. It was Clarke’s hand that slipped into her underwear, and Clarke’s fingers that pressed against her nub, slowly and gently rubbing it and occasionally sliding over her opening. All she could do was moan into the blonde’s mouth and rock her hips into the hand. There was a pressure she had never felt before building up and letting loose those sounds did little to relieve it. Lexa broke the kiss, and cursed, “Fuck.” She then felt her nipple being taken again by the warm wet mouth of the woman, before it was released and her a dark smug chuckle come from Clarke. Lexa groaned in frustration when fingers left her underwear and she could feel the breaths of the blonde as she lowered herself further down her body. It was a tease that Lexa didn’t appreciate. She jerked her hips. Fingers hooked the edges of her underwear and then they were off. Lexa closed her eyes when hands pushed her legs apart. She couldn’t think except to wonder why she had put this off for so long. Why she hadn’t pushed Clarke sooner. She cursed again when Clarke’s tongue pressed against her slowly licking up, and her mouth engulfed her, sucking with a gentle pressure as hands held her hips in place. There was no control in how her body coiled and let loose all the pressure that had been building. There was nothing to describe the feeling of release that had occurred. The blonde removed herself, and laid down next to her. Lexa laid there panting and processing the feelings she had experienced. It had been amazing and  fulfilling physically. But she was missing something emotionally. She had given herself to the blonde. The gift had not been offered in return.  She growled, opening her eyes to look at Clarke who was staring back at her looking smug and content. That’s ok. Lexa would be happy to take this for herself.  Lexa took both of Clarke’s hands into one of her own, holding them above the blonde's head leaning on them and lowering her head to kiss her. Lexa didn’t care for tasting herself. But she cared about kissing Clarke. She cared about feeling the rush of breath in her mouth when Lexa’s other hand parted the woman’s legs, and she revelled in delight and satisfaction when Clarke let out rumble in her throat.  She felt overwhelmed by the feeling she received when she entered a finger and Clarke’s body tensed and jerked of the blonde’s own accord against her. Lexa gave an experimental push, and Clarke’s reaction was magnificently beautiful. It was Clarke now that was helpless against her. Hands tried to free themselves, but Lexa tightened her grip as she pulled out and pushed in again. She wanted to watch Clarke lose it. She wanted to see as Clarke lost control because of her. She needed to see that she affected Clarke as much as Clarke affected her. She lowered her head and teased one of Clarke’s nipples the way it had been done earlier to her. She paid attention to every sound and movement that the woman made. Lexa pressed her lips around the nipple tighter. Her finger moved slowly, never stopping. There was a pride in her as Clarke let out a plea, “Lexa, please.” The brunette carefully listened and watched everything that Clarke did. If she could make Clarke feel the way that she made her feel earlier, there’d be no mistaking when the moment would hit the blonde. She entered another finger, it was tighter and all the blonde could do was writhe beneath her. She had never considered loving and being loved as a form of power. But Clarke was hers in every sense right now, and she loved it. Words and activities be damned, for as close as they had become, there was nothing comparable to this moment. She kissed the woman again, and experimentally bent her fingers. Lexa couldn’t help her own grin of smugness when Clarke’s brows furrowed and the blonds lips opened. She pulled out, and whispered. “I love you.” as she pushed in again. Lexa didn’t know if it was the words or just that Clarke had reached her limit. But Lexa felt it. She felt the woman shudder underneath her, and listened to the most beautiful sound of Clarke moaning. She withdrew her fingers and rolled off of Clarke releasing her hands. Lexa felt complete. There were no more feelings of like something was missing with them, and if Clarke’s roaming hands tracing the shape of her face was anything to go by, she assumed the blonde was feeling the same way. “I love you too.” Clarke’s raspy voice said. Lexa didn’t know or care how long they laid there tracing random patterns with their fingertips on each other. She didn’t care about how late it was as they stole one more kiss after another. She didn’t care that they had work that day. All that mattered there and then was that they just were. Eventually Clarke murmured, “We should take a shower.” “Do you want to go first?” Lexa asked. She heard the woman chuckle. “Seriously Lexa?” Sometimes Lexa felt clueless. This was one of those times. She bit her lip. “Lexa, come shower with me.” Clarke said softly. Oh, well she wasn’t going to say no to that. They washed each other. They were enjoying the intimacy of the act, gently gliding soapy hands over the curves and planes of their bodies, gentle presses of lips against each other's necks and faces. There was nothing sexual in these acts. Only appreciation for one another. There was no awkwardness or shyness. Only gentleness and contentment. They both just threw on a shirt each and it was Clarke who rested her head on her shoulder humming softly until she fell asleep. When Lexa woke up, she felt good. Tired but good. She couldn’t recall a time she physically and emotionally felt better as she remembered the events of the night. She felt herself give a small smile and opened her eyes. Her smile faded quickly at the sight of an empty bed, before she calmed herself, reminding herself that regardless of last night. Clarke still had to go to work. Lexa got up and pulled on a pair of pants and glanced at the time. She must have been tired. It was noon already. The note that Clarke had left on the table for her wasn’t her usual one wishing her a good day. Instead it was a longer one. One that made her heart flutter in her chest. Lexa, Do you remember what I said to you when you were more than happy to share your puzzlement at whether I was smart or an idiot? I answered life was more about work or what we did? That all I wanted to do was make a difference in someone else's life? When I said those words, I didn’t believe that I could have anything meaningful for myself. So I had just wanted to be meaningful to another person in any way I could be. I had said that making a difference in someone else's life would be my ultimate achievement. Truth is, I know I’ve become your ultimate achievement. Just by being you, you have given and become a part of something meaningful and purposeful for myself. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t want to see your face. I’ll see you when you get home from work. P.S Food is in the fridge. P.P.S Water the plants! I want to thank everyone for their time, encouragement, feedback and insights on this ‘slightly’ different take on Clexa. It was a big relief for me personally to write this and an even bigger (and pleasant) experience that so many people enjoyed this and took the time to really think about what it was I was really writing about. To me, the events and feelings of Chapter 59 always signalled the end of the story. With that being said, if anyone were interested in knowing or seeing more, feel free to post a prompt in the comments section. Be safe, and be happy guys <3

It had been a year since Lena went to college. And Lena made sure to keep her word and return as often as she could. She’d call every other day and the two teens would speak of how their days went. They’d talk and talk and talk until one of them fell asleep. It helped with her fears, and Kara knew that Lena and Alex wouldn’t forget her. Which was why when Lena said she couldn’t come home for most of her final school year, with the exception of winter vacation, Kara was okay with it. Lena hadn’t let her down, and Kara trusted that Lena wasn’t going to start then. But that left Kara lonely for those months. Winn was busy with his final year of school, her parents were working, and Alex was in National City. Kara started to take Krypto to the park daily, spending hours just watching him play with other dogs, taking him to the beach, anything to fill her days that weren’t spent eating, sleeping or learning. It was then she met a new friend. He was in workout clothing, heading to somewhere that Kara didn’t know. Krypto started to bark at him, and he quickly jumped in fear. He looked at the dog, tense. “Krypto, be nice,” she said, giving the lease a small yank to get the dog’s attention. Krypto let out a huff and stepped back. He kept his eyes on the other boy. Kara gave him a beaming smile. “Hi! I am Kara,” she greeted, extending her hands. The other teen stared at Kara’s hand, a small confused look on his face. Kara cocked her head just slightly. “Hand, shake?” He looked up into Kara’s blue eyes. “Why?” Kara shrugged. “Dunno. Humans are weird.” He nodded, agreeing, before putting his hand into Kara’s. Kara gave it one shake and let it go. “Kar-ruh, I am Mike,” he said, offering his hand back to Kara. Kara placed her hand in his and he gave it one shake. Mike nodded his head as if he understood. “Like to climb?” Kara nodded her head. “Trees.” “Wanna come?” he asked, and thus began their friendship. Upon getting to know him, Kara learned that Mike was like her, except he used to be a cat named Mon-el. He also made a wish and became a teenage boy. His former owners, now parents, changed his name to Mike and got him a spew of tutors to catch him up. Like Kara, he had daily tutoring. But when the two weren’t learning, and Kara wasn’t taking Krypto out for his daily walks, the two started to rock climb. They started small, but soon were climbing cliff sides. There were close calls, but they always watched each other’s backs. Mike did fall once, fortunately it wasn’t too bad. They made up their day with burgers. Lena smiled when she arrived at the Danvers home. She had missed hugging Kara, kissing her. She couldn’t wait to reunite with Kara. She knocked on the front door and just waited. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait too long. Kara yanked the door open and wrapped Lena in a hug. Lena just leaned into hit, her own arms pulling the blond close. Lena frowned at the lack of cushion on Kara’s body. “Sup Luthor,” Alex greeted from inside the house. The twenty year old was eating an apple on the couch. Kara grabbed Lena’s hand and pulled her into the house. Lena took off her jacket. She sat down next to Alex. Kara sat down on the ground and looked up at Lena. “Hi,” the blond greeted, giving her a beaming smile. “Hello,” Lena responded, a smile on her face. She stared into Kara’s eyes, something she could do all day, every day. “Gross,” Alex muttered, pulling out her phone. Lena rolled her eyes and smiled at Kara. The blond was looking at her, with a curious look. She looked so soft, so cute. “How have you been?” Kara nodded. “Good. Me and Mike climb rocks.” The younger college student frowned, “Who’s Mike?” “Mike,” Kara said, as if that answered her question. Lena looked at Alex, who was watching them with a small smirk. “Mike Matthews. He made a wish on the same shooting star. Used to be a cat,” Alex answered, turning back to look at her phone. Lena nodded slowly, a frown on her face. She automatically didn’t like this Mike. “Aren’t you getting a little hot Kara?” Alex said in a teasing voice. Lena blinked, confused about the sudden change of subject. She turned to Kara, who was nodding. Lena watched as Kara took off her sweatshirt. Lena felt her own eyes widened as she saw the newly formed muscles on Kara’s arms. Kara unconsciously flexed, and Lena’s mouth just dropped. When she had visited during the winter holidays, Kara wore a sweater for the whole time. Lena didn’t see what was under the sleeves. And now, she wished she had seen them earlier. Alex snorted. She reached over and closed Lena’s mouth. “Clean up the drool. That’s my little sister.” Lena blinked, “Uh?” “You are useless. Kara, Lena needs a napkin.” Kara got up and rushed to the kitchen. Lena made a choking sound when she saw her back. Alex just started crackling, tossing her head back. Kara returned and offered Lena the napkin, but Lena just stared at Kara’s arms. “Lena?” Kara asked, but Lena blinked. Her brain felt like it was short circuiting. Lena wanted to thank Mike for showing Kara the wonders of rock climbing. “She’s drooling Kara,” Alex said, her phone up. Kara nodded, as she patted Lena’s cheek with the napkin, humming to herself. Lena seemed to snap out of her daze and took the napkin from Kara and wiped her own mouth and chin. Her face was so red, she felt so hot. “Are you sick?” Kara asked, pressing her hand on Lena’s forehead. Lena made a dying sound at the contact. “She needs a hug Kara,” Alex said, moving back to get the whole situation on camera. Kara wrapped her arms around Lena. Lena stopped breathing. Kara just held Lena close and ran her hands through the dark hair. Lena turned to Alex. “I can die here.” Lena met Mike the next day. He had visited Kara, ready for their rock climbing session. Although Lena had to share Kara, she got to see her climb. Mike was shy around her, and barely spoke to her. Lena sat on a boulder, and watched as Kara and Mike prepared to climb a rock. Lena placed her elbows on her knees and placed her head on her hands as she watched. She watched as Mike took off his shirt, leaving him shirtless, and Kara took off her jacket, leaving her in a muscle tee. Lena watched as Mike jumped up and grabbed the rocks. Kara followed behind him. Her eyes followed Kara as the two teenagers climbed the cliff side. Lena felt like her heart was going to stop at times, each time Kara or Mike slipped. She was sure she was going to watch one of them fall. Lena kind of wished they had gone indoors rock climbing, but something about seeing Kara outdoors was different. Lena didn’t remember the last time she saw Kara so relaxed. Lena watched as Kara reached the top of the cliff just before Mike did. She frowned, wondering how the two were going to get back down. She watched as the two moved to another part of the cliff, and jumped. Lena jumped off the boulder and was about to scream, when Kara and Mike waved at her. She held her breath as they kept jumping until they reached the ground. Mike and Kara high-fived, but Lena stormed to them. She raised her hand and slapped Kara’s arm. She glared at the blond. Kara gave her a confused look, and Mike looked at Lena with fear in his eyes. “You gave me a heart attack!” Lena told her, her eyes going to Kara’s arms that were covered in sweat. Lena didn’t know why, but it got really hot. She heard Kara say something, but she couldn’t hear anything. “Is your Lena okay?” Mike asked, a small frown on his face. He looked at Kara, tilting his head in confusion. “She is a little weird,” Kara responded, patting Lena’s head. Mike nodded, agreeing with her. “Food now?” “Yes, yums,” Kara said, and Lena just blinked. “Lena?” “I know what I want to eat,” Lena muttered, before she realized what she said. Mike and Kara looked at her with small frowns on their faces. “Yeah, let’s go get food.” Mike and Kara high-fived again and grabbed their things. After Lena dropped Mike and Kara at their respective homes, Lena took a cold, cold, shower. Kara and Krypto moved to National City after she turned twenty-three. Alex, Maggie and Lena were living in the city, and Kara wanted to be with them. She moved in with Alex and Maggie. Maggie was an officer, and Alex had started her interning in the National City General Hospital. Lena had her own apartment in the city, and was working in Luthor Corp. A year later, Winn and Mike moved into the city. Twenty-four year old Kara now had a job, a home, and a girlfriend. Lena had finally asked her out after Kara moved to National City. “Sticky bunnies,” Kara said in awe. She shoved two straight into her mouth, her cheeks puffing out. Lena was sitting across from her, a breakfast sandwich in her hands. “You’re beautiful,” Lena said, a soft smile on her face. Kara looked at her with wide eyes. Lena had to laugh, Kara looked like a chipmunk. “Go on a date with me,” Lena said, putting her sandwich down. Kara nodded, trying to finish her sticky buns. Lena gave her an endearing smile as she waited. Kara inhaled deeply when she finished her sticky buns. She looked at Lena and beamed. “We still kiss?” “We’ll kiss more,” Lena responded, getting an excited hop from Kara. “Yes, we will date. And kiss,” Kara responded, grabbing another sticky bun and shoving it into her mouth. They went on their first date. Lena took Kara to a golf course, to take advantage of the cliche dates. Kara copied Lena, and when it was Lena’s turn, Kara would ‘help’ her. They spent too much time on a single section, Lena was sure they had angered the other patrons. After the golf course, Lena took Kara to an all-you-can-eat buffet. Kara was so happy. She had a bit of everything, always going to refills. Lena watched her with a grin. Watching Kara have no shame in shoving all different foods into her mouth. It was disgusting, but it made Lena fall even more in love with the blond. Lena had her driver drop Kara off at her apartment. She walked the girl up to her apartment door. “Thank you, I liked today,” Kara said, rocking on her heels. “I had a lot of fun too,” Lena responded, her eyes on Kara’s beaming smile. The whole time, Kara had a smile on her face, and Lena found herself getting lost. “Can we kiss now?” Kara asked, titling her head, and Lena was hit with an image of a puppy. She wished she knew Kara when she was puppy but wondered if it would be weird. Lena nodded her head, and leaned forward. Lena closed her eyes when she felt Kara’s soft lips against her own. Lena took the lead and placed her hands behind Kara’s head to pull her closer. She pulled away first for oxygen. She looked at Kara, whose eyes were blown, her cheeks bright red. “I like that,” Kara said, “Can we do again?” “We can do that all the time,” Lena responded, moving closer to Kara. The blond leaned forward, when there was a bang from inside the room. Both looked at the door, frowning. “We weren’t spying!” Maggie shouted from inside the apartment. “Don’t corrupt my baby sister too much!” Kara giggled, her eyes on Lena. Lena leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Kara’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” Kara nodded. “Bye Lena. Love you Lena.” Lena smiled fondly. “Goodnight Kara. I love you Kara.” The blond gave her one last beaming smile and walked into her apartment. Lena went back to the car and sat down with a sigh. “Had a good time Miss Luthor?” her driver asked in a teasing voice. “The best day of my life,” Lena whispered, closing her eyes as she remembered Kara’s lips on her own. Kara got her first job after she turned twenty-four. She was walking Krypto, and bumped into an older woman and her small dog. Krypto didn’t react, but the small puppy started to yap. Kara frowned, and crouched down in front of the puppy. “Hi, it’s okay. I am sorry. Krypto is sorry, yes Krypto?” Kara told the puppy, before looking at her own dog. Krypto let out a hug, before letting out a small bark. The small dog stopped yapping, and walked to its owner. The older woman pulled her sunglasses off and looked at Kara. The younger blonde stood up and gave her own dog a pat. “Hi!” “Do you have a resume?” the blond woman asked, boredom leaking into her voice. Kara shrugged, before shaking her head. “I do not have resoom.” The blonde lady let out a sigh. “Tomorrow, at noon, come to this location,” she said, handing Kara a small card. Kara grabbed it and frowned. She looked at it, trying to read the name. Cat Grant Catco Shelter Kara looked at the lady, but she was gone. Kara blinked, confused before walking back home. When she showed Maggie, who was home, the girl was surprised. “Cat Grant, she owns Catco Media. And an animal shelter it seems. She asked you for a resume?” Maggie asked, looking from the business card to Kara. The younger girl nodded her head. “I do not know. Resoom. John didn’t show me.” “It’s a list of accomplishments and other work you’ve had that can get you a job, when Alex gets home, we are going to work on one, okay?” “And then I get job?” Kara asked, feeling excited about a new thing. Maggie nodded. “And then we can work to get you this job.” Kara beamed, and rushed to tell Lena. The following day, Kara went to the animal shelter with a printed resume in her backpack. She had a hop in her step. She looked up at the building (the night before, Alex had taken her to the shelter, so Kara could get there alone). She took a deep breath and opened the door. She heard the canines barking, and it brought a smile to Kara’s face. She looked at the brunette woman behind the counter. “May I help you?” she said, in a tone Kara didn’t understand. Kara chose to ignore how weird her voice sounded and nodded. She reached into her pocket and placed the wrinkled business card on the table. “I see Cat,” she said, giving the woman a grin. The woman grabbed the card and stared at it. She then looked at Kara, who was still grinning at her. “I’m sorry, Miss Grant is not here,” the lady said, frowning. “Cat said noon. Here. It is noon,” Kara said, biting her lip. She looked at the clock, she was sure she got the time right. John made sure she learned to tell time. But what if she didn’t? And she was late. Kara could feel her heart quicken, her palms got sweaty, and her head got spinny. “Hey, are you okay?” the woman asked, looking at the blond with concern in her eyes. “Is it noon?” Kara asked, looking at the woman. The other woman looked at the clock, “It’s thirty before noon.” “I wait for noon?” Kara asked, pointing to the chair against the wall. The woman looked from the chair to Kara, before nodding her head. Kara walked to the chair and sat down. She twiddled her thumbs while she waited, watching as the red line moved around the clock. Before she knows it, the door opens. Kara quickly stands, but it wasn’t Cat. It was Mike who came in. He looked at Kara and grinned. “Kara!” “Mike! Hi!” “Are you getting a doggie?” Kara shook her head. “Job.” Mike beamed and looked at the woman behind the counter. “Imra, this is Kara. She is my friend.” Imra gave Kara a smile. “Hi Kara, Mike told me a lot about you.” Mike beamed at Imra. He walked up to her and kissed her cheek. “Girl friend?” “Yes. I find someone too,” Mike responded, nodding his head. “I am happy for you,” Kara told him, clapping her hands. Mike beamed, looking proud. He walked into a door, leaving Imra and Kara. The two women stared at each other for a second. “So Kara,” Imra started, leaning forward, “are you like him?” Kara nodded her head, and then shook it. “Mike was a kitty, I was a puppy.” Imra gave her a smile. “So you can talk to the dogs?” Kara nodded her head. “Okay, Ms. Grant doesn’t come here often. Why don’t you go see the dogs, get them to feel comfortable. I’ll let you know if Ms. Grant gets here,” Imra said, pointing to the door with a dog picture on it. Kara nodded and held her backpack straps as she walked into the hall with the canines. The dogs started to bark, and Kara greeted them all. She had a smile on her face the whole time she spoke to the dogs. Kara didn’t know how much time she spent in the shelter, but she loved it. The puppies were all excited to speak to her, the elder dogs shared their memories, and the rest of the dogs just loved to talk. “Kara,” she heard Imra call from the doorway. Kara walked to her and beamed. Imra gave her a smile back. “Ms. Grant is here.” Kara walked out to the lobby and saw Cat Grant standing there. “Cat!” she greeted, waving. “Keira, I am surprised by the silence, Matilda, how was the test run?” Cat asked, looking at Imra. “It went really well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so calm,” Imra answered, winking at Kara. Cat Grant nodded. She looked at Kara, who was just beaming. “You’ll work here for a week, and then we will look over your employment. Do not disappoint me.” “Thank you Cat,” Kara said, watching as Cat Grant’s eye twitched. “Make sure she knows how to address me,” the older blond told Imra, who bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Of course Ms. Grant,” Imra said, and the older woman walked out of the building. Kara turned to Imra with a beam. “I will call Lena.” Imra nodded, and Kara quickly called Lena. She had gotten her first job. Within a few months, Alex was doing well in her residency at National City General Hospital, Maggie took her detective’s test, Lena took over the Luthor Corp National City base, and Kara was working full time at Catco Animal Shelter. One day, Kara was coming home from work. She had helped three kids, a couple, two women, and an elder man all adopt dogs. She also spent a dog’s final hours with him, making him as comfortable as possible. She had cried to Lena over the phone. It helped, but Mike and Imra made it better, by reminding her that she gave him everything she could. That he was happy when he passed. It helped make her much better, and was able to finish her day on a high note. Kara arrived at the apartment and shoved her key into the slot. She turned it and walked it. The whole place was dark, and Kara shrugged, assuming Alex and Maggie were on a date night. She closed the door and flipped the switch, only for a group of people to pop up and shout, “Surprise!” Kara dropped her bag and jumped two feet. She looked at all the people in the apartment, all the people she cared about. She could see Alex, her parents, Maggie, Winn, the Kents, the Luthors, John, Megan, Barry, Oliver, Thea, Mike, Imra, and Krypto. She could see the smiles on their faces. “What’s happening?” Kara asked, a frown on her face. “Ten years ago, you officially joined this family. We wanted you to celebrate it with the people you love,” Alex said, taking a step forward. Kara smiled, “Thank you.” “Let’s party!” Maggie shouted, raising her glass. Everyone cheered, before Alex shushed them. Everyone started to mingle, while Lena walked up to her. She wrapped her arms around Kara. “Hi,” Kara greeted, smiling fondly. “Hello, I missed you,” Lena responded, leaning forward and giving Kara a kiss on the cheek. “Love you Lena,” Kara said, gently kissing Lena’s lips. “I love you too Kara,” she responded, hugging her girlfriend. The two looked into each other’s eyes, before Lena spoke again, “Move in with me?” Kara frowned, “Move?” Lena nodded, more determined. “Move in with me? Live with me? Come home to me every night.” “Yes,” Kara said, “I wanna move with you.” “Move in with me,” Lena gently corrected, before pulling Kara in for another kiss. Kara just melted, before Maggie pulled them apart and took Kara to greet other people. Kara looked up at the sky, her arms around her knees. Everyone had gone home, except Lena, who was sleeping over, and the Danvers, who were in the guest room. “Hey,” Alex said, moving to sit next to her little sister. Kara gave her a smile, before turning back to the sky. “I’m proud of you, you know,” Alex said, also looking up at the sky. The blond frowned and turned to look at Alex. The older sibling turned to the younger one. “Look at how far you’ve come since you made that wish. You learned a whole new language, you created bonds with people, you got a girlfriend, and you got a job all on your own. Kara, you have proven that anyone can do anything. You have made my life so much better just by being in it. I love you Kara, more than I have loved anyone else,” Alex said, her eyes on her sister. Kara smiled. She scooted over and snuggled against her big sister. Alex let out a chuckle and held Kara close. “I love you Alex. You are the best sister.” Alex snorted, a fond look on her face. “I know. So are you.” The two turned to the sky. They saw a shooting star appear in the sky. The two smiled as it crossed the sky for a few seconds. “Did you make another wish?” Alex asked, a smile on her face. She looked at Kara’s face, but the blond was just staring at the sky. Kara shook her head. “I have everything I want.”

September, 1915                                                  The first thing Kara thinks, as she steps out of CatCo a bit early to a cool autumn breeze, is that her birthday is particularly cold this year. And, she muses as she grabs the first tram to the train station to pick up the thing she’s been excited about since she started making plans a few months ago, it’s the perfect year for it. Her errand takes even less time than she thought, the rush hour traffic hardly starting when she gets there at 3:30, and she’s in and out in under 20 minutes. Lena isn’t usually home from class until 6 so Kara takes the scenic route on the way back to the Village, walking a decent part of the way to save on fare and just enjoying the wonderful rhythm her life has taken. She strolls through their neighbourhood with her hands in her pockets, her jacket looped through the crook of her arm with the all-important envelope tucked securely in its breast, and enjoys a crisp and sunny birthday afternoon. She strolls along the river, nodding to the man selling sausages and sauerkraut from a cart. She stops for a chat with a woman handing out pamphlets for a children’s charity, taking one and leaving her a dollar for the collection tin, and kicks a wayward ball off the street and back over a fence to a group of kids playing in a vacant lot. They send up a cheer, and Kara smiles to herself for the next few streets. When she finally gets to their building Kara whistles tunelessly all the way up the stairs, taking the stack of mail out from under her arm as she unlocks the door and sifting through the envelopes. There’s something from Eliza that’s probably a birthday card, an advertisement for a new deli opening down the street, and what looks like Lena’s tuition bill for the semester. She’s shouldering the door open and running a thumb under the seal of the first one when she looks up to see Lena standing in the middle of the apartment, a wooden spoon in one hand and an oven mitt in the other. She’s wearing one of her nice dresses with an apron overtop, and her hair is half-down and soft. She looks lovely – and like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Kara!” Lena says, taking a hurried step in front of the stove. Unfortunately it means that Kara can see what she was standing in front of before, which is the table – it’s set for dinner, with a few unlit candles in the middle. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon!” “I got off work early,” Kara says, setting the mail down with her jacket with a growing smile. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon. What’s going on?” Lena inches in front of the table, but she’s only so wide. Her small body does very little to cover the two place settings. “Nothing! It’s just…not quite done.” “What’s not done?” Kara asks, taking a step forward. Lena throws her arms up in a panic, and Kara stops in her tracks. “Can you just close your eyes?” Lena says, her own eyes pleading in a way so terribly sweet that Kara does as she asks right away. She can intuit what Lena’s plan is, but she can close her eyes for a minute if it means Lena gets to finish up her surprise. “All right,” Kara says, covering them with her hands for good measure. “How long do I need to keep them closed?” “Just a few minutes.” Lena’s voice is closer than it was before. She takes Kara’s arm and guides her blindly to sit on the bed, hurrying away as soon as she’s settled. “I’m almost finished.” Kara hears clattering from the table, the sound of heavy dishes being put down on the wood and the pouring of something. And then it’s quiet, just the occasional clink of something on glass and Kara’s own breathing filling the apartment. “Can I -” “Not yet,” Lena says in a familiar tone. It’s the one she has when she’s doing schoolwork, somewhat absent from the conversation and focused entirely on a task that’s taking all of her concentration, and Kara is almost curious enough to sneak a peek. But Lena asked nicely, and so Kara waits. She hums a little song to herself, tapping her toes on the hardwood while Lena finishes up. “Okay,” Lena finally says a few minutes later, sounding nervous. “You can look now.” Kara opens her eyes, blinking at the surprising dimness – Lena drew the curtains while her eyes were closed, it seems - to see a beautiful table spread. A small roast, mashed potatoes and vegetables, and two glasses of red wine are laid out on the tablecloth with lit candles. In the middle is a big, well-frosted chocolate cake with candles, and Kara’s name handwritten in blue icing. “I was just finishing the frosting when you came in,” Lena says, twisting her hands together as Kara stands up and takes it all in. “I thought you wouldn’t be home until 5:30.” “Lena, did you make all of this?” Kara asks incredulously, looking at all the details. “By yourself?” The food looks delicious, the cake especially; for the last few years Lena has been learning how to cook for herself, but with zero basis for skills she was starting from the ground up and for a while was more likely to poison them both or light the tea-towels on fire than to make anything edible. Usually they cook and wash up together, with Lena taking a support role. Clearly Lena has put a lot of effort into doing all of this alone for Kara’s special day. Lena blushes, leaning in to leave a big lipstick-print kiss on Kara’s cheek. “Happy birthday, darling.” Dinner is delicious – Kara spends most of it praising Lena on how far her cooking has come, and Lena leads her to the bed before she’s even cut the cake. She spends the next hour making sure Kara knows exactly how much she appreciates the compliments. “Good lord, Lena,” Kara pants, flopping crossways across the bed. Lena snuggles up next to her, slightly curled up to fit in the triangle of the mattress Kara’s body has left. “You certainly know how to make a birthday special. I don’t think I’ll be able to get up for cake.” “No?” Lena says, slipping her wet fingers into her mouth and humming. “I’ll just have to bring cake to you, then. The birthday girl shouldn’t have to get up.” Lena slides out of bed, padding over to the table where the cake is. She seems to contemplate her options for a moment, before sticking her hand fully into the cake and bringing the whole messy handful back to Kara. “Here,” Lena says, taking a delicate bite and pressing another into Kara’s mouth with her other hand. Icing smears across Kara’s lips, and she giggles. “Cake.” Kara props herself up on her elbows, opening her mouth wide in silent request, and Lena climbs onto the bed and slings a leg over her naked hips. She feeds another bite to Kara with her fingers, and Kara spends a few over-long seconds licking the icing from them. “We should eat every meal like this,” Kara remarks, and Lena takes another bite, dropping crumbs all over Kara’s torso. “I think that would get messy.” “This isn’t messy?” Kara says, pointing at the crumbs. Lena pauses, her eyes narrowing, and then shoves the remaining cake into Kara’s face. “Now it’s messy.” Kara gapes up at her for a moment, but when Lena leans down and kisses the icing from her lips she falls back onto the sheets, laughing. A good birthday. After a long, sticky cuddle Lena washes her hands and face in the washbasin and Kara watches her, laying upside-down on her back and idly following the water droplets rolling down her arms to drip from her elbows. These are Kara’s favourite moments, the ones she tries to preserve in her memory – tiny snapshots of the mundane things that remind her just how much she loves this woman. Things they almost didn’t have. Lena smiles at her, blowing a kiss, and Kara rolls over. “I have a surprise for you.” “It’s your birthday. Aren’t I supposed to be surprising you?” “I got us both a gift.” Kara heaves herself out of bed, and strolls naked over to her jacket. “I actually took a half day today. I had to go pick these up.” With a flourish, Kara pulls out her prize – two train tickets, stamped and paid for. Lena wipes her hands on a towel, taking the tickets with a growing smile. “Tickets?” she says, turning them over and squinting at the small print. “Are we going somewhere, love?”  “I thought we could go away before your semester gets too crazy,” Kara answers, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling Lena closer to press a few kisses to her belly. “To Santa Monica.” Lena inhales sharply, the meaning behind the words hitting her hard. “Oh. Oh, Kara…” “Just like I promised. Remember?” Even with everything that followed, Kara has never stopped thinking about that conversation. Lena telling her all the things she’d never experienced – Kara had promised to teach her real horseback riding, to take her on the rollercoaster and go swimming in the warm, shallow ocean. She fell in love with Lena the moment she saw her, but that moment had solidified it – watching the orange sunset make Lena’s skin glow, the wind of the ship deck blowing little wisps of her hair out of its updo. It was what made her brave enough to invite Lena to the party below decks, and have one of the best nights of her life. Lena sinks down onto the bed next to her, clutching the tickets to her breast. “I couldn’t forget that. Ever. I just didn’t think…” “Didn’t think it would ever be real?” Kara finishes, and Lena nods. For a long time, Kara hadn’t thought it could be real either. But she made a promise, however much in jest, and she intends on following through. Lena presses a kiss to Kara’s shoulder. “Are we really going?” “These are open tickets,” Kara says, slinging her arm around Lena’s shoulders. “We can go whenever you’re ready.” “How about tomorrow?” Kara is just as eager as Lena is, but they both know they can’t go tomorrow. They have a birthday dinner planned with the gang, and Kara needs to confirm the time away from work. But they go at the end of the month, when the weather starts to turn cold, and the train ride is like a vacation in itself. Their sleeper car isn’t much smaller than their apartment, so the 2 days are happily spent lying together and watching the countryside change from one climate to another out the window. Lena reads two entire books, and Kara gets to work filling up a brand-new sketchbook with landscapes and portraits of Lena in different light. The look on Lena’s face when they step out of the train station into a bright, sunny street lined with palm trees is worth the cost of the tickets ten times over. Kara remembers, vaguely, the layout of the town from when she was here years ago with Alex. At the time they had slept in halfway-houses or on the beach under the stars, but now it’s not difficult to find a mid-priced hotel to check into. After a quick change of clothes into something more suited to the hot weather – a gauzy pastel dress for Lena and a light blue summer suit for Kara, the jacket looped through her arm as usual – Kara finally shows her the sea she promised. “You lived here?” Lena says, gazing at the horizon over the aquamarine ocean. They’ve arrived in the early afternoon, and in a few hours Kara knows the sunset will be unbelievable. She can’t wait to watch Lena enjoy it. “For a while.” “And you left?” Kara laughs, putting an arm around her and pressing a kiss into her temple. “We didn’t like to stay still for very long. Wanted new experiences. I like to think my heart was telling me to keep moving until it found the person it was looking for.” Lena finally looks away from the ocean, her eyes shining with affection. “You just say these things.” “Only when they’re true.” The first place Kara takes her after the shoreline is the rollercoaster, and for a second after they approach the massive labyrinth of wooden tracks, she almost thinks Lena will back out. A cart rattles above their heads, the people in it packed in and screaming with mingled terror and delight, and Lena stares up at it with wide eyes. “You okay?” Kara asks, taking her hand and squeezing it. “We can skip it and just go for a drink, if you want.” “No,” Lena says forcefully, pulling Kara towards the ticket booth. “No, we said we would do this. We have to do it, even if I’m fairly sure this thing would fail most basic inspections.” Kara buys them two tickets, the whole time they wait in line Lena is mumbling under her breath. “What are you doing?” Kara asks, stepping forward as the people just in front of them clamber into carts. They’re up next, and Lena is still furiously muttering. “Calculating our odds of the cart flying off the rails.” “Lena,” Kara says, exasperated, but gate in front of them opens to let them board their cart and Lena marches forward stubbornly. “I survived a ship sinking. I’m sure I can handle this.” By the time the cart slows down at the end of the ride, Lena is laughing wildly and asking to do it again. They ride three times in succession, and it’s Kara that pulls Lena off the ride to take a walk in the cooling evening air because she’s pretty sure one more ride will make her ralph all over the boardwalk. They stop to grab 4 cent beers at the pier, enjoying them at a little table and watching the sun turn the sky orange, and as it sinks over the horizon and reflects on Lena’s face Kara is reminded so strongly of the day she first promised this trip that it brings tears to her eyes. “This is wonderful,” Lena sighs happily, leaning on Kara’s shoulder. “It’s everything I thought it would be.” Kara swallows the last of her beer, setting the empty bottle down in the sand. “Just wait until tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” Lena asks, her eyes lighting up. “We’re going horseback riding.” As excited as they both are for tomorrow’s adventure, neither of them are tired when they retire to their room. Lena opens up the window and stares out into the night, breathing the warm air and listening to the crashing waves, and Kara settles on the ottoman with some blank paper to draw her. “You’ve certainly been doing a lot of sketching so far this trip,” Lena remarks, leaning onto the sill on her elbows. “Reliving your glory days working the boardwalk for portraits?” Kara smiles absently, concerned with capturing the angle of Lena’s nose. “I want to remember it. And besides, my glory days were in Paris.” “Where the women were naked.” Kara laughs, swiping some hair out of her eyes, and Lena comes towards her to rub at what’s probably a charcoal mark on her forehead. “Any artist will tell you that it’s fulfilling to draw the human body in its most neutral form.” “Neutral?” Lena says, quirking a brow. “Nudity is neutral?” “It is! It’s pure humanity. Clothes are expressions of individuality or culture, but if you want to get to the quick of a person you need to strip that away.” “And did you get to the quick of me, that night you drew me naked?” Lena says, plucking the sketchbook from her hands and sitting in her lap. Kara wraps an arm around her, and together they look down at the half-finished drawing. “I’ve always been rather disappointed that we lost that one with the ship. It was beautiful.” Kara nods, the truth spilling out of her just as easily as it always has with Lena. “I knew that night that even if we parted when we got to land, a part of me would love you for the rest of my life.” Lena’s eyes soften, turning away from the art and back to Kara’s face. She draws Kara close, kissing her brow, before whispering something that makes her shiver with anticipation. “Draw me again.” Kara doesn’t hesitate. She helps Lena undress with eager hands, directs her into position on the bed, and sets herself a comfortable station on the ottoman to draw Lena’s second full portrait. Kara is surer this time. She’s still stirred by Lena’s body, as she always is, but she feels less nervous than she was when she had never seen it before. Her lines are more confident, more detailed. Lena’s position is similar to last time, only at a slightly different perspective – Kara isn’t looking at her directly from the side but angled more towards her legs. It makes for an interesting challenge, when Lena has her legs comfortably half-spread, not to get distracted. She’s hardly halfway finished when Lena starts to shift. “I forgot how much you fidgeted last time,” Kara says, biting at her lip as she rounds out the details of Lena’s breasts. “It’s a miracle I finished it at all.” Lena laughs quietly. “Last time, I was struggling with the impulse to touch myself.” Kara’s hand veers off the page, leaving a huge stroke of charcoal across the top of the drawing. “What?” she chokes, trying to rub the line out. But it’s too thick, and she gives up after doing nothing but smudging it across the white paper. The Lena part of the portrait is easily salvageable, but it’s going to have a big stripe through the negative space. “I was,” Lena says calmly, her legs drifting apart and back together again idly. It might seem thoughtless to anyone else, but Kara knows it’s devastatingly calculated. Lena had a purpose when she asked for this, and she’s seeing it through. “All I could think about was your eyes on me. I was just too nervous and inexperienced to do anything about it.” Lena sighs, and Kara’s eyes widen when she delicately spreads her legs, baring herself fully to Kara’s gaze. “Now, however…” Without even considering it, Kara puts the sketchbook down and stands. She wants to go to Lena, wants to press between her spread legs and give her what she’s clearly asking for – but Lena holds up a hand. “Have you finished my portrait?” “Finished?” Kara says blankly. “You want me to…finish it?” “Have you done the bottom half?” Lena says pointedly, her legs still spread. Kara looks at the drawing – she focused on Lena’s vague outline first, and then her face and torso. The bottom half is mostly blank, Kara having saved the hardest part for last. “Not yet,” Kara says, slowly coming to understand what Lena wants. She’s just not sure she’ll be able to handle it; and it’s confirmed when Lena continues. “Then keep drawing.” Kara can’t help it. She whimpers quietly, eyes stuck on Lena’s body – she wants to touch, to taste and feel, and Lena is denying her for her own pleasure. Teasing her with what she can’t have. It’s enough to make her crazy in the best way. In Kara’s silence Lena eases a hand between her legs, toying with the hair there, and raises a brow. “You’re not drawing.” “It’s hard to draw a moving subject,” Kara manages to croak, sitting heavily on the ottoman and picking her sketchbook up again. “I believe in your abilities.” So Kara gets back to work, and Lena touches herself with almost decadent slowness while she watches. The perfectionist in Kara won’t let her deliver a sloppy product, even under these circumstances, and Lena knows it; Lena has plenty of time to work herself up, and Kara draws for every agonizing second of it. Her hands are shaking by the time Lena is getting herself really close, almost snaping her charcoal in two with the strength of her desire to intervene and be a part of the process, but in the end they finish at almost the same time –as if when Kara puts down her pad and grips the arms of her chair, Lena lets go of some kind of block she put in her mind and comes with a loud, overwhelmed cry. It’s the last straw for Kara’s will. Lena reaches out a hand, beckoning her to the bed, and with her duty finished Kara finally abandons the ottoman and drops the portrait at the foot of the bed. Conscious of her stained hands, she uses them instead to hold down Lena’s hips – Lena gasps, arching into the pressure and pushing herself into Kara’s ready mouth. Inky black finger-marks litter Lena’s pale skin, and Kara guides her through two more peaks before Lena insistently turns the tables. Between bouts, lying in the tangled and black-smudged sheets, Kara grabs the picture and holds it up above them so Lena can see it. “How did I do?” It just might be, Kara thinks, one of her best works. Lena in the portrait is lithe, captured in motion with hooded eyes and eager hands, and Lena grins as she traces the huge line Kara accidentally left across the blank part of the paper with a damp fingertip. It leaves a wet smudge that Kara personally thinks completes the artistic vision perfectly. “I feel very seen, my artiste. But I think it’s about time I got to the quick of you again, hm?” The book is left on the bedside table, and by the night’s end they’re both covered with so many charcoal smudges that Kara has to call for a bath and a new set of sheets in the morning before Lena wakes up. The girl who brings them blushes fiercely when she sees the state of them – love-marks littering Kara’s neck and collar, messy hair drawn into a bun, and Lena in bed just behind the open door – but Kara just grins, thanking her and giving her a generous tip when she leaves the tub of hot water behind without comment. They damn well earned this vacation, and she’s going to enjoy every second.

“I’m just worried about her, Mariano,” Dolores said, gripping her husband’s hands. “I think we should talk to Abuela.” “I understand that, mi amor,” Mariano answered, squeezing her fingers comfortingly. “And if you want to talk to Abuela, I’ll come with you. I just don’t know what we should really be expecting. I’m still new to this.” Though she was glad to see Mariano approaching the situation with a level head, Mirabel still winced as she stepped into the dining room. She hadn’t meant to intrude on such a delicate conversation – she was only wondering where Antonio had gotten to. She tried to step back as quietly as possible, but of course, Dolores noticed her and looked up. “Oh! Mirabel!” “I’m really sorry,” Mirabel said immediately. “I’ll get out of the way–” “No, it’s okay,” Dolores sighed, her shoulders drooping. “It’s not like it’s a secret. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask if you had any thoughts on Teodora’s situation…” “Um.” Mirabel hesitated, taken by surprise, and pointed to herself. “Me?” Dolores nodded. “You’re… good at seeing things from a perspective the rest of us don’t, sometimes. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just too close to it, but…” She looked down at her lap. Mirabel licked her lip, casting an uncertain glance at Mariano, who lifted his eyebrows and gave a tiny shrug with one shoulder. It seemed like he was curious to hear her point of view, as well. So Mirabel swallowed and stepped into the dining room, headed for the chair that Casita nudged out from the table for her. “I mean… obviously I’m not an expert,” she said slowly, taking a seat. “But also, none of us really are? As much as the family Gifts are a huge part of our lives, we’re only just barely into the third generation, and Teodora’s only the ninth child to receive a Gift. It’s true that no one’s had trouble the way she’s having, before, but we don’t know that anything is actually wrong.” “That’s kind of what I’ve been wondering,” Mariano admitted, looking down at his wife. “But I don’t know all the rules, so…” “I don’t think any of us do,” Mirabel said with a nod. Dolores sighed again, extracting one hand from Mariano’s to rub her eyes. “You’re right, of course,” she agreed. “I just… she’s my little girl. And given everything that happened the last time our Gifts faltered, it’s hard not to worry.” “I know,” Mirabel assured her, reaching out to pat her knee. “But nothing else has happened to cause any concern. No one else has had any problems, the house is free of cracks, the candle is burning strong… Whatever it is, I think Teodora’s going to be fine.” It was mostly the truth. If she was being honest, Mirabel was a little unsure what to make of Teodora’s situation. It had been a little over a month since the girl had turned five and been granted her Gift. Unlike many of the Madrigals before her, it wasn’t immediately obvious what she could do: the walls of her room were covered in doors. There were trapdoors in the floor, and even attic doors in the ceiling. Many of them seemed to lead nowhere when opened – and then one of them led to the ocean. The family had poured through, baffled as they stepped onto the soft white sands of a stunning beach, only to turn around and see a door attached not to Casita but to a shabby little equipment shack. Still, beyond the threshold, there was Teodora’s new bedroom. Another one, opened the next day, led into snow-capped mountains. On that side, the door was on one wall of what looked like a tiny, long-abandoned research station. Teodora could open doors to faraway parts of the world. They’d been excited for her, of course. What a spectacular Gift. She’d started drawing pictures of the destinations that she could hang up as signs, so she wouldn’t forget which door led where. But then, as days went by, she struggled to successfully open new ones. And one day the door to the beach stopped working – it went back to having nothing behind it. A few days later it returned, but the problem persisted: the doors didn’t always stick around. Teodora also seemed to completely lack control over her ability; she couldn’t affect when it would work or where the doors would lead. No one else in the family had ever struggled so much to make their Gift cooperate. There was something else, too, that nagged at the back of Mirabel’s mind. No one had said anything yet, but she was sure she couldn’t be the only one thinking it. Teodora’s Gift seemed to violate one of the few rules that the Madrigals did know about their miracle – or at least, that they thought they knew. Teodora’s Gift didn’t do much to help anyone. Mirabel had been fighting with herself over this for days. Her Abuela had always explained the family Gifts as something they could use to serve the family and the community. Sometimes the uses were obvious: Julieta’s healing ability, or Luisa’s strength. Others were less so, like Camilo’s shapeshifting – it had taken him a few years to fully grasp how useful a skill that could be. But Teodora’s doors… The Encanto wasn’t completely cut off from the outside world, though it came close. The town knew what was out there, but no one ever really left. Not even Bruno, as they’d all once thought. In the beginning, it was a matter of safety: the whole point of the miracle, of Casita, was to create a safe haven for Abuela and her peers, so they could stop running. And then the Encanto had developed into a paradise, and no one ever really wanted to leave. Plus, while it was rarely discussed, everyone knew that for the Encanto to stay a paradise, it had to be kept a secret from the world at large. The Madrigal family could support their community, but they couldn’t support the world. So why did Teodora’s doors connect them to the world? At first, Mirabel had beaten herself up about it. Just because Abuela had always said that their Gifts were supposed to serve the community, that didn’t mean that it was true. Serving others was very noble, of course, and Mirabel would never criticise the choice to do so, but – why should their Gifts have a purpose? Couldn’t they just… be? Abuela had seen intention in the family’s Gifts, had seen the loving hand of her husband, and there was nothing wrong with that. Certainly she’d raised the family well, for the most part. She’d taught them to support each other, to support their friends. But that didn’t mean that her interpretation of the miracle was perfectly accurate. Still, though… Some things about the miracle did seem to have a purpose. There was no denying the fact that the Encanto existed to keep their community safe. From Pedro Madrigal’s sacrifice and Alma Madrigal’s heartbreak, the miracle had sprung to life, separating innocent refugees from their pursuers and providing them a new home. Even if the family Gifts were just some kind of bonus, that original intent remained intact. So would it be possible for the miracle to grant Teodora a Gift that defied or endangered the Encanto’s whole reason for being? Admittedly, Mirabel had been giving herself headaches trying to make sense of it all. But, after her conversation with Dolores and Mariano, she finally decided it was time she seek another perspective on the situation.   “I… I don’t really know about all that, Mirabel,” Bruno said, looking uncomfortable, when she explained to him. “I mean, I get it, and of course I wanna be sure that Teodora’s okay, but… Y’know. It’s been a few years since I did a really big vision like that, and…” “I know,” Mirabel soothed, sitting down in the chair opposite his. When they rebuilt the house, his tower had reappeared far homier and more comfortable than it had been when she’d first seen it, and they sat now in his little bedroom beneath the vision cave. “I understand completely. But that time wasn’t an actual disaster, remember? Everything was okay in the end.” “Yeah, you’re right…” He rubbed his arms and looked away at the floor, still hesitant. “Still…” “I’ll stay with you, just like last time,” she promised. “It’s just that… I don’t know. I guess I hoped that Teodora would start to even out on her own, but the fact that her Gift still isn’t working for her is obviously really worrying Dolores. And I think it’s worrying Abuela, as well. She tries not to show it, but…” Bruno looked up at that. “So you noticed that too, huh?” She nodded. “She works so hard to be strong. But something’s been bothering her, ever since Dorita opened that door to the beach.” “Yeah. I kind of thought so too.” One elbow on the arm of his chair, he leaned his cheek against his fist. “It’s weird… I don’t usually think of her as worrying much at all. I know she’s tried to be more honest with her feelings ever since… well, you know, everything,” and here he raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “But she still doesn’t usually stress about anything. She’s always been a person who acts on things. I don’t know about the other grandkids, I guess, but I imagine your Mamá and Tía Pepa have picked up on it too. It’s strange to see our mother this way.” “Yeah.” Mirabel looked down at her hands, sitting twisted in her lap. “I know she was worried about the house, back then, and the miracle. But if I hadn’t overheard her talking to Abuelo, I would never have guessed. I don’t know why I’m catching it this time, but it definitely is weird.” “I think you’re just growing.” She looked up again, and now he was watching her with a sympathetic sort of smile. “You always had a knack for reading people. That’s the kind of thing that gets sharper as you grow up.” Then he sighed heavily. “You really think this might be able to help?” “I mean, it might,” she said hopefully. “If it doesn’t, we don’t have to share it with anyone. Heck, even if it does help, we don’t have to tell everyone.” “…Yeah. Okay.” Bruno levered himself out of the chair, then held out a hand to pull Mirabel to her feet. “Let’s go see what we can find out.” The stairway up to his vision cave was a far more reasonable height these days, and the sand inside was of a more manageable quantity. Mirabel, waiting patiently for him to go through the steps and rituals that grounded him for a vision, noticed that the stuffed rat she’d made him years ago was propped up on a shelf on the wall, ready to offer comfort whenever he needed it. “All right, kiddo,” Bruno said when he was ready, and he sat down cross-legged on the sand in the middle of the room, patting the spot across from him. Mirabel scooped her skirt under her bottom as she sat facing him and took his hands. “Let’s see what we can learn about our little Teodora.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After a second or two, the sand began to swirl up around them, taking on a green cast as he opened his now-glowing eyes. They both looked up, searching for familiar shapes in the chaos. The first thing they saw was Teodora, throwing open a door. The door expanded, and whatever was on the other side swirled in unidentifiable patterns until the doorframe disappeared. Now the sand coalesced into people – a man and a woman locking their door, suitcases clutched in their hands. A young boy shoving clothes into his bag, clearly in a rush. Two women embracing each other for a long moment, patting each other’s backs, as if to say goodbye. “That’s… that’s Sra. Lopez and Sra. Garcia,” Mirabel said, narrowing her eyes and taking one hand from Bruno’s to point at the two women. “They’re neighbours. Why are they…?” “Wait, wait,” Bruno said, gripping tighter the hand of hers he still had. “There’s– there’s something else. Mirabel–” He didn’t have to say any more: she saw it. The butterfly, shining gold amongst the green, just like she’d seen seven years ago. They both followed it closely until it approached another golden shape – this time a wiry dog, emerging from the swirls of green with a wobbly sort of bounce to its step. The butterfly flew around its head for a moment, and then the two took off, disappearing quickly back into the sand. Where they’d gone, two human figures began to form. On the left, with flowers spilling from one hand and piled around her feet, was unmistakably Mirabel herself. She was reaching across some kind of threshold, arm extended like she was throwing herself forward to catch somebody, mouth open in a shout. On the right, almost her mirror image, a young man in a hooded sweater, with a guitar hanging on his back and lit candles at his feet. In one hand he held another candle – the candle? Their candle? It was hard to tell – and with the other he was reaching back toward her, leaping at her, their fingers just brushing in the middle. “Who… who is that?” Bruno asked, brow furrowing in confusion. “I don’t know!” Mirabel cried back, spinning to look at him. “You don’t know?” “No!” He shook his head, and the sand began to fall back to the ground around them, the eerie green glow leaving both his eyes and the rest of the room. The green sank down into the mound of sand at their feet, and from the shape of the glow they could tell it had coalesced into a vision plate. As the light in the chamber returned to normal and Bruno dropped back down to the floor, momentarily spent, Mirabel plunged her hands into the sand to retrieve the vision. The image in relief on its surface was the same one they’d just seen: Mirabel and the mystery man, reaching for each other from opposite sides of what looked like a doorway of some kind. No matter how hard she stared at it, no matter what angle she investigated from, she couldn’t identify the man. He looked to be around her age, and he seemed as dismayed by whatever was happening as she did, but she had no idea who he was. “We should take this to your Abuela.” She looked up at her uncle, who had his hands braced against his knees as he got to his feet. “We… we don’t have to rush anything,” she stammered, taken by surprise. “We don’t even really know what this means, so–” “No, but I think we should talk to her anyway,” he said, and his smile looked… tired. He always looked tired, but there was a certain defeated kind of calm in him now. “I think you’re probably right about not telling everyone, but Abuela deserves to see this. It’s strange that neither of us recognise him, but if she doesn’t either, then we know something big is happening.” “Well… if you’re sure,” she agreed slowly. Bruno nodded. “It’s the right call.”   Most of an hour later, they were sitting around a low table in Abuela’s room at the top of the house, quietly sipping coffee as they all stared down at the vision plate. Bruno and Mirabel had explained to Alma what they’d seen in as much detail as they could, and the thought of people apparently leaving the Encanto certainly seemed to perturb her. She was far calmer about it than she would have been a decade ago, Mirabel thought, but it was still obvious that she was rattled. “I don’t know him,” Abuela said, not for the first time, as she leaned close to inspect the vision again. “In nearly sixty years, we’ve never once had a new person in the Encanto who wasn’t born here. But he doesn’t even resemble anyone in town.” Mirabel picked her feet up off the floor and curled them under herself inside her skirt. “Yeah. I don’t know what to make of it.” “I’ve never seen anyone in a vision that I didn’t already know,” Bruno admitted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know it was possible for me to see a stranger in a vision. But I guess my visions have always been about people here at home, and if no one new ever shows up…” He shrugged. Abuela sighed deeply, putting down her coffee cup and folding her hands in her lap. “I’m not sure what to make of this,” she said softly, not quite meeting either of their gazes. “Obviously, the images you saw of our friends and neighbours leaving their homes, perhaps even a rush… these are troubling. But I hesitate to leap to conclusions, after what we’ve been through.” “And that’s a good thing,” Mirabel agreed emphatically, raising her eyebrows. “But I’m not sure what to do with any of this information, either. It definitely didn’t answer any questions about Teodora… “ “No, it doesn’t.” Abuela reached into the folds of her shawl and produced the locket that contained her husband’s photo, running the pad of her thumb over its surface as she thought. “I… confess that this does bring up some familiar and unpleasant fears. Especially when paired with the image of a stranger in our midst.” Mirabel exchanged worried glances with Bruno before adjusting a bit in her seat, leaning closer to her grandmother. “It… it does look like he and I are on the same side, though,” she pointed out carefully. “Like– like he’s a friend. Not a danger.” “I know.” The woman leaned down to look at the plate one more time, then closed her eyes and pushed it across the table towards the other two. “I think this is something I’ll need to sleep on. It’s a lot to consider.” “That makes sense,” Bruno said slowly, looking again at Mirabel. He picked up the vision plate and handed it to her, and she tucked it under her arm as they all got to their feet. “Are you… okay, Mamá?” “I’m fine, Brunito,” Abuela answered, smiling a bit wearily, but taking his hands in hers and giving them a squeeze. “I’m a bit worried, but I’m trying to think the problem over instead of acting rashly. That’s what you two taught me.” Then she reached for Mirabel’s hand as well, looking at them both. “I think we should keep this amongst the three of us for now, while we consider what this might mean and how to deal with it.” “Pretty sure we’re all on the same page, there,” Bruno said. He glanced at Mirabel, who nodded her agreement.   Outside of Abuela’s bedroom a few moments later, Mirabel took out the vision and looked down at it for another moment. Then she sighed, letting herself droop against her uncle’s narrow shoulder. “I think we’re handling this pretty well, all things considered,” Bruno said, trying for an encouraging smile, but his laugh came out a little nervously. Seemingly out of habit, he reached out and knocked twice on the wooden railing across from them. “I know.” She shoved the plate into her bag and returned his loose sort of half-embrace. “I just… I guess I thought it would feel better to hear her admit her concerns to us rather than hide them. But it’s actually kinda freaking me out.” His arm still around her, he gave her shoulder a comforting little rub. “It kinda freaks me out, too. But… it’s been a really long time since Abuela’s had to speak to a stranger, let alone trust them,” he pointed out, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “And the last time strangers came into her home, she had to run.” “…Yeah.” Mirabel felt like she’d already memorised the face of the young man in the vision, at this point, and she couldn’t help feeling like he was good, somehow. Maybe it was just because of the way they were reaching for each other in the vision, like neither of them could bear the thought of being separated, but… something drew her toward this stranger. She hadn’t even realised how strong the draw was until Abuela had expressed her anxiety about him. “Yeah. You’re right.”   Late that evening, a couple of hours after everyone had retired to their rooms, Mirabel sat at her desk, resting her forehead on one hand and staring at Bruno’s vision. She no longer lived in the nursery – when they’d rebuilt the house, the entire family had pitched in to include a bedroom just for her. Of course, when Casita had reawakened, it had added its own spin on the space, bringing back many of the drawings and crafts she’d once kept tacked to the nursery walls or hung from its ceiling. But tonight, no matter how many times she sat back to take them in, looking for anything that might inspire a new insight, her eyes were pulled back to the vision sitting on her desk. Who was he? She nearly fell out of her chair when the night’s quiet was broken by her bedroom door bursting open. Scrambling to cover the vision in front of her, Mirabel swung around and found Teodora standing wide-eyed in the open door, her pyjamas askew and hair standing on end. “Mirabel!” she cried. “What?” Mirabel squawked, startled. “I mean– Teodora– what’s going on? You should be asleep!” “Mirabel, please, you have to come see!” the girl said impatiently. She came into the room and grabbed Mirabel’s hand, pulling hard. “What– what am I coming to see? Teodora, what’s going on?” Mirabel asked again, letting the child tug her out into the hallway. “I couldn’t sleep earlier,” Teodora explained, dragging Mirabel towards her bedroom. “And then when I did go to sleep, I kept having these weird dreams.” She slammed open her door and charged onward. “Okay,” Mirabel answered, still confused. “But…” “And I dreamt that I opened a door for you,” Teodora continued, giving the young woman an exasperated eye-roll. She continued to pull, headed for the far end of her room. “It was really important.” “All right, but…” “And then I woke up.” Teodora stopped by the wall and looked up into Mirabel’s face, as deadly serious as a five-year-old could be. “And I was standing right here, with my hand on the doorknob.” Before she could once again question what this was actually about, Mirabel noticed that the door in front of them was slightly ajar. She glanced at Teodora, who just looked meaningfully at the door and then back up at Mirabel. So, carefully, she reached out and pulled it open. The door led into an unfamiliar street, paved with uneven cobbles and enclosed by dusty stucco walls. It was nighttime, but there were glowing candles lined up on the tops of walls and the edges of the streets, and strings of lights and colourful cut-paper banners hanging everywhere she looked, and there was lively music playing somewhere in the distance. For a moment or two she only stared. Then she looked down at Teodora. “I… it looks beautiful,” she said slowly, at a loss. “But, Dorita, I’m not sure what you…” “You have to go through,” Teodora insisted plainly, lifting her eyebrows. “I told you! In my dream it was important. This door is for you, Mirabel.” “All right. Um.” Mirabel took a deep breath, then crouched down to be closer to Teodora’s eye level. “I get that this probably seems super important right now, but I can’t just… go wandering off into the nighttime without telling anyone, you know?” “You have to at least look,” the little girl insisted, her eyes enormous. Mirabel hesitated. She’d always had a hard time resisting little kids, and Teodora seemed to be wholly convinced that this door was here for her, specifically. She knew she should at least wait until morning, but… maybe a quick peek, just to satisfy Teodora’s sense of urgency. It couldn’t hurt. She sighed heavily. “Okay, kiddo. I get it. I’ll just have a short look for now, okay? But then I’m coming back and you have to go back to bed. Your mamá will never forgive me if I keep you up all night.” Putting on a smile, she tweaked the girl’s nose and pushed herself back up to her feet. Stepping carefully over the threshold, Mirabel looked around a little. Just to her left the street she was standing on formed a T-junction with another, and she could hear voices approaching the corner. Lingering close to the door, in the shadow of the wall behind her, she waited to see who it was – maybe a glimpse of the people would give her a better idea of where she actually was. At the head of the group was a young girl, shiny black hair pulled back into braids, skipping along with all the cheer in the world. Behind her trailed a woman that might have been her mother, laughing: “Socorro, slow down! Your Abuelo can only move so fast, you know!” After the two of them came the rest of their group – their family, Mirabel supposed – all talking and joking animatedly as they walked. There were several generations of them, teens and parents and grandparents alike, and one large man had a baby strapped to his chest. Then Mirabel’s gaze caught on a young man in the middle of the group. He looked about her age, a bit lanky, with a laid-back confidence to his posture. He was smiling down at the eldest woman, perhaps his grandmother, listening to her talk as they walked. Dressed in a green sweatshirt and jeans, with a guitar hanging on his back, he would have seemed unremarkable if not for one very important thing: he was, unmistakably, the man from Bruno’s vision. “What?” she asked herself in a whisper, stunned. Then, impulsively, she shouted, “Wait!” “Mirabel?” came Teodora’s voice from behind her. The family was already passing out of sight, and between their conversations and the music still playing in the distance, they couldn’t hear her. Mirabel chewed her lip for a moment, twisting her hands in the fabric of her skirt, before giving chase. “I’ll– I’ll be right back, Dorita!” She couldn’t afford to let him get away. When she turned the corner, there were more families out walking, all apparently headed in the same direction. She cast her gaze around and spotted someone from the back of her mystery man’s group as they disappeared around another corner, and she dashed ahead, this time darting between clusters of other pedestrians. But each corner she turned revealed more people, until finally the streets led her into a crowded plaza. This was the source of the music, with musicians playing both on a little stage at the plaza’s centre and all around its edges. Here there were more banners criss-crossed every which way overhead, and stalls full of food and goods, and children laughing and playing games underfoot. Normally the scene would have delighted Mirabel, and she would have stopped to see everything, but she was single-mindedly focussed on finding the young man from Bruno’s vision. Unfortunately, there were a lot of people wearing green or carrying guitars around the plaza. After a couple of circuits of the crowd, trying to move quickly but also avoid drawing too much attention to herself, she started to wonder if perhaps he’d left the plaza altogether – the festivities did seem to spill out into the streets on every side. Looking around again, she wasn’t even entirely certain which direction she’d first come from. Discouraged and increasingly anxious, she slipped down the nearest street, hoping that if she went around each block surrounding the plaza, she might get lucky.     “Are you still worrying?” Socorro asked, appearing at Miguel’s hip with a sly smile. Startled, he jumped slightly, then gave her a playful scowl. “No, of course not,” he fibbed. “I’m fine.” “Liar.” She grinned, and he could only shake his head at her. She’d always seen right through him, much to his chagrin. Stepping in front of him, she offered up one of the churros she’d just bought from the stall her best friend’s mother ran. “Is it because of the song?” He took the proffered churro and nodded, glancing around and then waving her over to a bench whose occupants were just getting to their feet. “Maybe a little,” he answered as they sat, well aware that she’d know he was still downplaying things. They sat in silence for a few moments while they ate, and once again he turned the problem over in his mind. He was supposed to perform tomorrow night, but he’d been completely stalled on his song for weeks now, if not longer. The rest of the family usually left him to his own devices when it came to songwriting, but Socorro had always liked to listen and give her feedback, and he’d always been happy enough to allow her. She was his baby sister, after all, and his biggest soft spot. “Why don’t you just perform Remember Me like you’ve done before?” she asked after a while, leaning on his arm. “Or Un Poco Loco? You always have fun doing that one.” Miguel sighed. “Yeah, I do,” he agreed. “But I already told everyone I’d be singing something of my own this year, didn’t I? Can you imagine how silly I’d feel, going back to one of Papá Héctor’s songs after everyone’s made such a big fuss about hearing something new from me?” “I guess.” She popped the final bite of her churro into her mouth and wiped her sticky fingers on her skirt. “I still don’t really get what’s wrong with the songs you’ve written before. But it’s obviously important to you, so I’ll just trust you, I guess.” “Oh, you will, huh?” he laughed. Grinning again, she hopped back off the bench. “Yeah. Which is why I’m gonna help you out.” Reaching for his hands, she pulled him to his feet. “You should go back home and keep working on it. You’re not even really enjoying the festival anyway. I’ll distract Mamá and Papá and Abuela so no one notices you leave, and I’ll make sure they don’t go back home looking for you. That should buy you a couple hours at least, right?” Miguel’s first instinct was to laugh, but then he scooped his little sister up off the ground and gave her a warm hug. “Yes, it should,” he told her as he put her back down. “Thanks, Socorro.” “Thank me by finishing the song,” she answered with a giggle. Grabbing his sleeve, she tugged him down far enough to kiss his cheek, and then she turned him around and shooed him away. “Now go!” Still chuckling, Miguel heeded her instructions and set off towards home. It wasn’t a long walk back, but he still managed to find the time to dwell on things. A decade ago, music had come so easily. He’d been so caught up in the euphoria of being allowed to make music at all, he supposed, that he hadn’t even thought to worry about how he measured up to Héctor. Or anyone, really. The mariachis in the plaza had taught him how to refine the skills he’d been practicing in secret, and how to play alongside them. His parents had bought him a new guitar, so that De la Cruz’s – Héctor’s – could be looked after as it deserved. But as he’d grown and learned, he’d begun seeking his own voice as a musician, and that part… that part was more challenging than he’d ever realised it would be. Heaving yet another sigh, Miguel stopped and looked up at the mural on the wall outside his home. A few years ago, they’d gotten a portrait of Héctor painted near the window where his framed letters were hung; now Miguel stood and looked up into his great-great-grandfather’s larger-than-life smile. “I’m lost, Papá Héctor,” he sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I know I have something to offer the world. You and Mamá Imelda and everyone else saw it in me. But I just… can’t find it.” Héctor only continued to smile, unmoving, and not for the first time, Miguel felt a strange pang of sadness. His time with Héctor had been so short, but sometimes he missed the man so keenly. He figured it had to be an effect of the adventure they’d gone on together. How could they not have bonded? “I know I’ll see you again, one day,” he continued. “I just wish you were here now.” Miguel’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone coming around the far corner, muttering to herself in frustration. He looked up in surprise and saw a young woman around his own age, but completely unfamiliar to him. Her hands were curled into fists, and she kicked at the dirt as she walked. “Stupid door!” she complained, dragging one hand back through her dark curls. “What the hell am I supposed to d–…” When she raised her head, her gaze locked on Miguel’s, and she cut herself off, eyes going wide and jaw slackening. She froze for a second. “Um.” Miguel felt himself flushing slightly, embarrassed that someone might have heard him talking to Héctor that way, but also puzzled by the look on her face. He waved awkwardly. “Hi?” “Oh my God, it’s you,” she gasped, only deepening his confusion. Suddenly she ran toward him, stopping herself a few paces away and abruptly clamping her mouth shut. It looked like she’d just realised she had no idea what to do next. “I, uh… me?” Up close, Miguel was certain he’d never seen her before, which was strange – he didn’t think there was anyone in Santa Cecilia whose face he didn’t know. But there was no question: bright hazel eyes, round green glasses, colourful embroidery swirling all over her blouse and her skirt in designs she must have done herself. If he’d seen her, he’d definitely remember her. “I…” She bit her lower lip for a moment, hesitant, and wrapped her hands around the strap of the cloth bag hanging over her shoulder. “This is gonna sound crazy,” she said then, almost breathlessly, “but I’ve been looking for you.” Miguel blinked. “What? I– who are you, again?” he asked, stunned. “Oh. Uh.” The girl offered him a broad, uncomfortable grin, then wiped one hand on her blouse and stuck it out to shake. “I’m Mirabel Madrigal.” Not a name he recognised, either. In fact, he didn’t think there were any Madrigals in Santa Cecilia. “Miguel,” he answered, slowly shaking her hand. “Miguel Rivera.” Uncertainly, he nodded toward the fading text on the wall: Rivera Familia de Zapateros. “Okay. Great.” Mirabel’s smile was strained at best, though he was starting to get the impression that that wasn’t on his account. “Now I know your name, at least.” Miguel furrowed his brow, feeling more lost with every word that came out of her mouth. “What’s… what’s even going on?” he asked, then shook his head at himself. He didn’t mean to sound rude. “I mean…” “You know, I’d love to know that myself,” she sighed, dragging a hand down her face and then reaching up under her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m having, like… the weirdest night.” “Yeah, uh, you seem… stressed,” he admitted, apologetic. “Is there… anything I can do to help you?” He wasn’t really sure how to handle the situation. The part about looking for him was still bizarre, but she seemed harmless, and he did find himself kind of wanting to lend her a hand somehow. It looked like she needed it. “Honestly… I have no idea.” The air seemed to go out of her, and she turned and slumped back against the wall, face falling. “I’m sure I was supposed to find you, but now I don’t know how to get home, or even where I am in the first place, or… anything.” “Where you…” Miguel tipped his head slightly. “Um, you’re in Santa Cecilia. Are… are you okay, uh– Mirabel, was it?” “Mirabel, yeah.” She straightened up and pushed her hair out of her face, giving him a sheepish look. “Santa Cecilia. All right. I guess I’m grateful I wound up somewhere where everyone speaks Spanish, at least, but I don’t… I mean. I’m… not in Colombia anymore, am I?” “What?” That might have been the most surprising thing she’d said so far. “Colom– no, definitely not. Santa Cecilia is in Mexico. Are you sure you’re okay?” Now he reached a hand out toward her shoulder, concerned. Mirabel’s smile was joyless by now, betraying nothing but anxiety. “I’m fine, I swear. I’m really sorry, Miguel. Just… like I said, I’m having a really weird night. I wish I could explain it, but I… don’t really think you’d believe me.” He paused, taking her in again. There was something in her countenance now that he couldn’t quite put a finger on, but… something he recognised, nonetheless. He’d never seen it in another person, so he didn’t even know exactly how he recognised it, but it was there. They had something in common. “You might be un poco loco, yeah. But… try me,” he invited her then, beginning to smile both at Mirabel and at his own dumb little joke. “You’d probably be surprised what I’d believe.” Her eyes narrowed a little as she looked at him, like perhaps she was noticing something new about him, but then her brows raised and her gaze cleared. Maybe she’d started to catch onto the same thing he had. “…How long do you have?” she asked. Miguel’s smile grew, and he shifted his weight towards the entrance to his yard, beckoning her along. “Come on inside. There are leftover tamales in the kitchen, and maybe I can grab you something to drink, too.”

Omniscience is having a blast, or he was until he met a high schooler on the roof. She seems so tired, swinging her legs over the ledge. He doesn’t know if she hasn’t heard him or just doesn’t care that he’s there. He shifts his foot to deliberately make a sound, she turns toward him languidly, eyes empty, as though she’s not entirely there. ”Who are you?” She asks, voice soft and quiet, her eyes scanning him over. ”An Agent of Chaos.” He answers on reflex, taking a slow methodical step toward her. She doesn’t react to his movement and that worries him. ”That new vigilante?” She asks him, voice still blank. ”That is what they call us.” Another step. ”Why are you here?” She finally looks him in the eye. ”To help, if you’ll let me.” Just a short lunge away. ”You shouldn’t help someone like me.” She turns back to look over the roof’s edge. ”Why’s that?” He asks, approaching the ledge. ”I’m a villain.” She replies blankly, at first he tenses, but the way she says it, he thinks there’s more to the story. ”How so?” He sits on the ledge an arm's length away. ”It’s my quirk, you shouldn’t be so close, it’ll show you horrible visions, and you won’t be able to tell they're not real, that’s what Fear Gas does, I’m a terrible daughter I can’t do anything right and this awful quirk…” Once she starts she can’t seem to stop. She’s not leaning toward the edge, but burying her face in her hands is the safest state to be in. It’s then Omniscience realizes he can’t hear Siren’s breathing, he hopes it means he’s taken off his mask and hidden instead of something more serious because he can’t simply leave this girl at this point. ”That doesn’t make you a villain.” This gets her attention entirely on him. ”A quirk is simply a tool you’re born with, yes yours shouldn’t be used readily, but that’s your choice and you haven’t once mentioned using it intentionally.” The girl is in tears at this point as if this is the first time anyone has said something like this to her. ”This may be hard to accept, but those who hold your quirk against you are the villains in this equation.” ”Even if it’s all of them?” She asks arms reaching around him and face buried in his shoulder. He tightens his arms around her in hopes it comforts her. ”Yes, each and everyone.” He allows her to simply cry on him for a few moments before standing up on the roof and pulling her with him. Carefully he adjusts her so she can lean on him as they walk. He guides her to the stairs, leads her down, and brings her out into the street. He takes a moment to whisper their destination to her so she won’t panic. As they walk he can clearly see a few people recognize him, at one point catching a glimpse of an underground following by rooftop. He’s internally grateful they don’t approach him until he’s dropped the girl, Fukunoko, off at the anti-discrimination center. ”I hope you won’t hold it against me Eraserhead, but I must be brief, there is one more who requires my company before I turn in for the night.” He calmly walks down the street toward Siren’s location. ”You are aware vigilantism is illegal.” The hero states clearly holding back a multitude of questions. “Vigilantism in this day and age is defined as using one's quirk to perform a heroic act without a license. I do no such thing.” He smoothly replies without breaking stride. ”You really expect people to believe you’re doing all this without your quirk?” The Erasure hero asks with clear suspicion. ”The law cares not for what is believed, but what can be proven.” Omniscience replies as smoothly as he can stopping to look the man in the eye. ”And if you had proof you would have arrested me already.” He bows to the man with respect. ”Have a great night.” He starts climbing the building they stopped next to silently relieved when the hero went the opposite direction. When he reaches the roof he’s a mix of worried and relieved. Siren is sitting in a shadowed nook, his head between his legs, breathing carefully. His mask is laying beside him, it’s clear he’s coming down from the stress of overhearing someone in a situation he very well could have found himself in had he lived a different life. Omniscience knew what needed to be done and soon they were on their way back to Pandora’s Box, having cut their patrol short. ”Wooooo!!” Mimic heard a young woman cheer as she stumbles out of a bar followed by five other women. One of the ladies is wearing a sash with the word ‘bachelorette’ emblazoned upon it. Being the gentleman he is Mimic crosses toward them to check in with them. ”Hello, ladies!” He cheers to get their attention before he got close. ”OMG! Sakura, this is the best bachelorette party ever!” One of the girls says with obvious excitement. ”We got to meet that Chaos guy!” Another girl agrees. ”Yes, I can see that.” The leading lady says as dryly as she can while trying to keep focus. ”You ladies need any help getting home?” Mimic makes sure to bow while offering an arm to the most unstable girl. ”Yes actually, I think my friends overdid it.” Sakura comments pulling along a couple of her friends. Some of the women whine and protest but ten steps and one vomiting later and the group is making their way to a decent hotel. The walk was mostly peaceful aside from a couple of suggestive men who were easily scared off, and Mimic returned to his patrol. If the next time an Agent of Chaos passed by the bar crawl they were given a schedule of reservations for the month no one said a thing. A gunshot rang through the night. After a flinch at the sound Siren sprinted toward the shot, jumping from one roof to another. As he approached he wondered why there was just one shot. Usually, there are at least three or four. When he reached the alley he thought the sound came from, he was surprised by what he saw. In the middle of the alley lay one of the local dealers. Near the mouth, sat at one side of the alley, an old man that looks quite ill. What makes Siren tense is the five-shot revolver laying across from the man. Siren did his best to climb down into the alley without making a sound. It turned out not to matter as even when close enough to touch the man he didn’t look up. Siren stepped toward the gun placing a foot on top of it. He pretended to relax against the wall and stared at the man. He’s already sent the location all he has to do is wait. “He killed my son you know.” The man breaks the silence with a tired voice. “Not with his own hands mind you, but with that poison, he sells like it’s some harmless candy.” ”And now you’ll go to prison.” Siren states as evenly as he can manage. ”Won’t be there for long.” The man finally looks up, a wry smile on his lips. ”Think your sob story is that compelling do you?” Siren can’t help the scoff that accompanies his words. Siren doesn’t expect the man to start laughing at that. “Not at all, but cancer might have other ideas.” Siren wilts a bit at the information. “I see.” The man shakes his head at Siren. “None of that now. I made my bed and now I get to lay in it.” Siren sighs, completely lost to what to do in this situation. “Tell me about your son.” The man was all too happy to go on about his boy until the police got to them. One cop takes the gun from Siren, the boy not doing anything but stepping off the gun and scaling the wall up to the roof. He waits until the old man is in the cruiser before continuing his patrol. “Takeda!” Eraserhead calls out as he drags a small-time mugger into the station. ”What now? I retire in a week, shit best not hit the fan before then!” Takeda snaps back. ”I know.” Eraser huffs at the man. “So does Chaos apparently.” He shoves a wrapped box with a card at the old coot. As Eraser takes the mugger to the back Takeda opens the box to see some of his favorite sweets. The rugged edges make it obvious they’re homemade, and the geezer can’t help but smile. “Well I’ll be, I’m gonna miss those troublemakers.” ”Damn, those kids know how to send someone off.” One of the rookies comments glancing at the cookies over the old man's shoulder. “What’s the note say?” ”Hold on a minute and maybe you’ll find out.” Takeda quips, pulling out the note. Dear Takeda, It has been an honor to work with you. We will miss your snark and sass. We will remember you fondly. We will pass down stories of your temper tantrums as though they were precious family heirlooms. Sincerly, Agents of Chaos ”Oi, those little shits!” Takeda shouts as the rest of the station breaks out in laughter. In the next week, Takeda would receive many more well wishes and retirement presents, but that sassy letter would always remain his favorite.

Newly docked in Os Kervo, Captain Inej Ghafa of the Wraith allows herself to pause outside the dressmaker’s window. The yellow satin is undeniably beautiful, glittering across the bodice with tiny beads that resemble opals. Nothing she could wear though. Nothing she would wear, she amends firmly. Her days of being trussed and powdered for the pleasure of others lie behind her in the burnt ruin of the Menagerie, along with a good many other things. She smiles, thinking of how she and Kaz had watched the fire from a neighbouring rooftop. “How long before someone else builds on the site?” she’d mused aloud. “They won’t.” She glanced at him. “They won’t dare. Your reputation is fiercer than you reckon, Wraith.” “Your reputation, you mean. From which I also benefit on occasion.” “No.” He shook his head firmly. “This part of the mythology is yours alone. And if I know anything at all about the Barrel, I know this site will remain empty. It’s a warning.” He turned to look at her, firelight glinting in his dark eyes. “A monument, to the Queen of the True Sea and the fate that awaits her enemies. The first of many.” Queen of the True Sea. She has many monikers now, some more flattering than others, but she knows that one to be Kaz’s favourite. We’ll be kings and queens, Inej. Kings and queens. For her part, it feels a little strange – like a coat that’s too big across the shoulders. Pirate queens are figures from campfire stories, women who laugh as they slaughter and take their pleasure freely in the aftermath. Not a damaged former lust slave who prays for the soul of every person she kills and still, even after more than a year, sometimes struggles to touch the man she loves without losing herself. She sighs, raising a hand in greeting to the landlady as she enters the common room of the Red Cockerel. She’d sent a runner as soon as they docked to ensure her usual room would be waiting – complete, she hopes, with a hot bath. She’s barely climbed in, however, when there is a knock at the door. “Visitor for you, Captain.” She grimaces, closing her eyes. “Tell them I’ll be down for dinner.” “Well that’s not very friendly,” a familiar voice observes. Inej’s eyes fly open and she sits up with a start, slopping water onto the floor. “Nina?!” She hears the door open and close and suddenly Nina is there, an ear-splitting grin on her face. “Sorry to disturb you, Captain.” “Don’t be ridiculous!” Inej is already on her feet, pulling a robe tight around herself. “Come here, let me see you! What on earth are you doing here?” Nina’s grin softens into something gentler as she wraps Inej in a tight hug, squeezing around her shoulder blades and letting go. “It’s good to see you too, lovely. You don’t know how good.” “But how have you been? Have you been in Fjerda all this time? And how did you know where to find me?” “Well, the answer to those first two questions is a very long story, which I’ll be happy to tell you over dinner,” Nina rummages in Inej’s shore bag, selecting a clean blouse and holding it out to her, “but the third one is easy.” Nina turns to face her, fingers spread and eyebrows waggling. “I’m your birthday present!” Inej just stares at her. “What?” Nina rolls her eyes. “You’re familiar with the concept of a birthday, I hope? You know, one day a year when we celebrate your existence? Ringing any bells?” Inej swats her with her free hand. “Yes, thank you. But it’s not for another two weeks, and it still doesn’t explain how on earth you found me.” Nina smirks at her. “Oh no? And tell me then, just who are you planning to see on this special day two weeks from now?” Inej straightens from pulling on her leggings, her mouth dropping open. “Kaz sent you?” “The very same,” Nina grins again, “and you can be sure I won’t allow him to forget this evidence of humanity and – dare we say it – romance any time soon.” Inej purses her lips. “Nina.” Nina blithely ignores the admonishment. “Before I forget, however,” she turns to rummage in the pockets of her cloak, “this is the other half of your present. I’m in port for the next three days, so we’ll have plenty of time to catch up, but there’s someone you should meet tomorrow morning.” She hands Inej a piece of creamy paper, neatly folded in half. Inside are a few words, written in a noblewoman’s flowing hand. 54a Cooper Street, 10 o’clock. “I think you’re going to like her.”     Inej does not like her. 54a Cooper Street turns out to be a small, white-walled workshop, clearly rented for the day and entirely bare aside from a truly obscene number of travelling trunks - and Genya Safin. And Genya Safin is exactly the type of woman who makes Inej think of Tante Heleen – tall, beautiful, with an arch manner and impeccable make-up. She rises from her seat when Inej opens the door, greeting her with a warm smile that does not quite reach her brilliant green eyes. “Captain Ghafa, welcome.” She offers a smooth white hand which Inej shakes, reluctantly. “Shall we begin?” “What…” Inej looks around the workshop, taking in the measuring tape by the window and the glint of silk spilling from under the lid of the nearest trunk. “What exactly is happening here?” “Ah.” A shadow passes over Genya’s beautiful face. “My apologies, I thought you’d been filled in. In short, my instructions are to make you the ensemble of your dreams – an outfit that will make you feel like a queen. Whatever that may look like, to you.” Inej sighs internally. Kaz means well, she has no doubt, but he has misjudged her this time. She is already dreading the need to tell him.  “It doesn’t look like anything,” is what she says aloud, “I’m not a queen, and I have no desire to feel like one. Being myself is enough.” She raises her chin at that, daring the taller woman to correct her. Genya doesn’t though, simply runs an assessing eye over her that takes stock of everything from her worn boots to the defiance of her stance. “Of that, I have no doubt,” she says softly. “But indulge me a moment. Will you sit?” Inej sits, crossing her arms tightly. Genya takes the chair opposite, leaning forward with her hands clasped in front of her. “I know something of your history,” Genya says quietly. “Tales of the Wraith have reached as far as the Little Palace, believe it or not. So I know that the reason you hunt down slavers is because you were the victim of one yourself. And while I don’t know the details, I know what kind of place young girls usually end up in.” Her gaze flicks to Inej’s wrist, where the coin of scar tissue is exposed. Inej pulls her sleeve down with a jerk. “I won’t say it’s the same,” Genya continues. “But I’ve had my own experiences of being at the mercy of powerful men. Men you can’t say no to. I know about playing dead to save what little you can; letting them take whatever they want from your body so you can protect some fraction of your soul. And I know that when you finally win your freedom, the last thing you want is to be a pretty little doll for anyone else.” Inej’s voice is blocked in her throat. She remains silent as Genya raises her gaze, unshed tears glittering in her emerald eyes. “But this is not for them,” Genya says fiercely. “Every woman deserves to feel beautiful. They don’t get to take that from us. If we hide ourselves, push that part of ourselves away, then they win. It doesn’t need to be every day, I know you have a job to do. But what you are doing is magnificent. You’re doing what hundreds of women can only dream of. You’re a hero, a more deserving queen than any who sits a throne. I think part of you knows it, deep down. But I want to help you feel it. On your own terms. Will you let me?” Inej swallows hard. Despite herself, her thoughts flick back to the yellow satin she saw when she docked. “Where do we begin?” she asks in a small voice. Genya smiles, a true smile this time, with a wicked edge to it. “Wherever you like, Captain. I have all day, and a budget so outrageous it may as well be infinite. Let’s find out what your dreams are made of.”     It goes quite smoothly from there. With just a few well-aimed questions, Genya determines that Inej does not want anything revealing, that silks are a non-starter and that jewellery will make her feel trapped. Freedom of movement is important too – the fabric should be loose without risk of snagging, so Genya suggests a draped crepe, offering several swatches for Inej to test against her skin. It’s like nothing she’s felt before – it flows like liquid, without any of the telltale shine of satin – and she loves it immediately. “What about colour?” Genya asks, “Any likes, dislikes?” Inej thinks of the purple she wore in the Menagerie, of the primary colours of her childhood performances with her parents. She thinks, wistfully, of the yellow satin she saw in the window – and dismisses it. “Nothing too bright,” she says. “No black though,” Genya returns, “with your colouring, it would be a crime.” Inej thinks ruefully of the years she spent in black as the Wraith, and almost smiles. A crime indeed. “Perhaps a dark red?” Genya suggests, “Or a green?” Inej drifts over to the trunk where Genya is standing, which is overflowing with swatches of crepe in every colour imaginable. She picks up a silvery grey, running it absentmindedly between her fingers, and her attention is caught by the swatch below – a deep, deep blue with a hint of green to it, just like the ocean at twilight. Genya follows her gaze, and begins to smile. “Yes,” she says. “Oh, yes.” The real work begins then. Genya has her strip and begins pinning the crepe into place, experimenting with various folds and drapes as she goes. After some debate, she even allows Inej to keep her knives, rising to the challenge quickly with suggestions of hidden openings and clever lines that will allow for easy access in case of emergency. Despite the speed of Genya’s hands, the pins don’t graze Inej even once, and in short order she finds herself in something resembling a dress – a beautiful sheath that covers her from wrist to ankle while skimming artfully over the curves beneath. She stretches experimentally, takes a few steps, and is pleased to discover that she retains almost the full range of movement. “What is it?” Genya is watching her closely. “What do you mean?” Inej glances over her shoulder at her. “It’s beautiful.” “But it’s not perfect,” Genya says shrewdly. “Not yet. What’s missing?” Inej turns back to the mirror, studying herself. The dress is truly gorgeous, a dreamlike variation on the high-necked tunics and sleek leggings she is most comfortable in. But perhaps that’s it – it’s almost a little too similar, a little too businesslike. She thinks of Kaz, imagines how he might look at her in this. Imagines how she wants him to look at her. “Maybe…,” she hesitates, “maybe we could show a little skin?” Genya gives her a frighteningly sharklike grin. The compromise they come to is inspired – the high collar remains, but it splits down the middle into a sharp plunge that stretches all the way to her sternum while remaining narrow enough that she doesn’t feel exposed. It makes Inej thinks of knives. She trails a fingertip along the edge of the fabric, imagining Kaz’s touch in place of her own. Her stomach twists pleasantly. She loves it. “What about your hair?” Genya asks. “It would be a shame to leave it in the braid, after all this.” Inej shakes her head. “I don’t like to wear it loose,” she says. “Not since…” “Not loose then,” Genya agrees, understanding. “But perhaps we could find another way to contain it.” Her hand hovers over the tie at the end. “May I?” Inej nods, letting Genya’s nimble fingers shake out the strands. It reminds her, suddenly, of her mother unbraiding her hair before bed when she was small. Genya cups the weight of it in her hands once she’s done, coiling it experimentally first in one direction, then another. Twisting the lengths around her fingers. She hums. “I think I know just the thing. Close your eyes.” “Really?” Genya doesn’t answer, just raises her eyebrows pointedly until Inej does as she’s told. She can hear Genya rummaging on the far side of the room, muttering under her breath. Whatever she’s looking for, it doesn’t seem easy to find. But at last she comes back, stopping just behind Inej’s shoulders. Inej fights the urge to turn, to open her eyes. She’s not used to having people at her back. “Just bear with me a moment,” Genya tells her. “It will be worth it, I promise.” Inej feels the weight of her hair suddenly lifted, the brush of fabric over her head, Genya’s precise touch at her shoulders, her throat. She feels her step back. “There,” the tailor breathes. And Inej opens her eyes. The effect is… it’s breathtaking. Inej stares at her reflection, barely able to credit it. In a couple of deft gestures, Genya has used the same crepe to create a generous hood that skims over her hair and collects the mass of it in a dark pool around her shoulders, a luxurious reflection of the hood she used to wear on jobs. And lining the crepe, merging with the darkness of her hair, is an impossibly delicate mesh studded with hundreds of tiny black diamonds that sparkle as she turns her head like the infinite stars by which the Wraith charts its course. “I was thinking we could embroider some more on the collar,” Genya says quietly. “Perhaps down onto the shoulders too. So that one blends into the other.” She allows Inej a few more minutes of silence, her gaze calculating. “What do you think?” she asks at last. “It’s…” Inej shakes her head. “I can’t wear this.” “Why not?” “I..,” she shakes her head again, unable to put words to the feeling. “Because you don’t deserve it?” Genya suggests. “Because things like this are not meant for girls like you?” Inej closes her eyes. “Yes.” “Then on behalf of every girl who’s ever felt the slaver’s whip, let me be the first to disabuse you of that notion,” Genya says firmly. “Every girl who’s ever been at the mercy of a man they did not choose. Every girl you’ve saved, Captain. Nobody deserves this more.” Inej opens her eyes to find the tailor’s emerald green gaze fixed on her. “And I suspect the man who arranged all of this would very much agree.” That actually makes Inej laugh, an inelegant snort. Yes, Kaz would love to see her in diamonds, she’s sure. Dirtyhands has always had a taste for expensive things. “You may be right there.” Genya may not know why she’s amused, but she returns the smile anyway. “Not only there, Captain, but it’s a start. Do you feel like a queen yet?” “I’m beginning to, I think.” Everything is else is detail. They discuss linings, shoes, underwear. Choice of buttons, a motif for the collar embroidery, some simple makeup. “That’s everything, I believe,” Genya says at last. “Just one last choice.” She holds up a hand, turning it as though displaying it for Inej’s assessment, and her expression turns almost apologetic. “You know by now that I’m a tailor, of course, but it’s true in more than one sense. If there is anything you’d like to fix – any memories you’d like to erase – just say the word.” Whatever Inej was expecting, it wasn’t this. Real Tailors are rare – so rare that Inej never even dared to dream of meeting one, of having a choice about whether to keep her scars. Nina could have fixed them with a wave of her hand while she was on parem, of course, but that doesn't count. Safe to say they all had other priorities at the time. But now that the choice is in front of her, she has no idea what she wants. An itinerary of scars flashes through her mind, every one a reminder of an indignity, a hurt, a moment of terror. Scars from performances, from the Menagerie, from the Crows. Every one a story, many of which she’d prefer to forget. And yet somehow, now that she has the choice… “I don’t know who I’d be without them,” she says at last. Her eyes drop to the raised coin of scar tissue on her wrist. “I’m not sure I want to find out.” “Changes to the outside don’t change what’s inside,” Genya reminds her, but her eyes are sympathetic. “But I do understand. And if you ever change your mind, I’m sure you’d manage to find me.” It’s true, but having spoken the choice aloud Inej is suddenly certain she will not change her mind about this. It’s as if, by choosing to keep her scars when she had the option to erase them, she has taken ownership of them somehow – turned a symbol of her shame into a symbol of her power instead. Much like everything else today, she supposes. And it’s that, more than anything else, that allows her to thank Genya graciously for her time and leave the workshop with her head held high, feeling more deserving of her fearsome reputation than she ever has before.     Inej docks in Ketterdam two weeks later and lets herself into to the Van Eck mansion. Jesper and Wylan will return from Novyi Zem later in the week, and given everything that happened in Os Kervo Inej was somehow unsurprised when Kaz did not appear to welcome her at the harbour. Instead, there is a large box waiting on her bed and a note in familiar spidery handwriting telling her to be ready for a carriage at eight sharp. There is no signature. Inej rolls her eyes. Nonetheless, she can’t help a frisson of excitement when she lifts the lid and is confronted with deep sea crepe and the wicked glitter of diamonds. There is another note inside, from Genya this time, explaining how to manage the fastenings without someone else there to help her. Genya does not know all her history, clearly – reaching some buttons in the middle of her back is no problem for a former acrobat. There are other surprises though; soundless velvet slippers in the same colour as the dress, delicate underthings that lie flat against her skin and show no lines at all, a small vial of perfume that reminds her of the spices in her mother’s cooking. She takes her time bathing and getting dressed, avoiding the mirror all the while. It feels like bad luck somehow, though she couldn’t say why. She brushes out her hair and cards oil through the lengths before coiling it into the cowl of fabric that waits at her shoulders and pulling the hood up over her head, carefully arranging the mesh to lie flat. Only then does she brave the mirror that waits near the door, closing her eyes as she turns and taking a deep breath before opening them again. She looks… She doesn’t have the words. Inej Ghafa stares at her reflection and feels something inside her swell, feels a smile creep unbidden across her face. Her chin lifts, her already perfect posture straightens. She feels… Beautiful. Proud. Powerful. She hears horses pull up outside and turns away from her reflection. Twilight has fallen on the Geldstraat and the streetlamps glow gold, their light bouncing in the puddles that collect on the cobbled streets. Inej climbs gracefully into the unmarked carriage that awaits and settles back against the plush seats, a sense of giddy anticipation rising in her. Kaz is waiting.     They pull up outside a small but undeniably expensive hotel whose name she doesn’t know, warm light spilling from the windows and ivy climbing the stone façade. The manager offers her an arm and escorts her to the top floor, where a single door awaits. And then she is left alone. She takes a deep breath, raises her chin, and pushes open the door. Her sharp eyes catalogue a large room, a table set for two with silver domes already in place. A truly enormous bed, and beyond, an open window that lets in the smell of the canal and distant voices from the street below. But all of that fades into insignificance compared to the man in front of her, seated in a winged armchair with his bad leg stretched out before him. Kaz looks exactly as she remembers, all sharp angles and dark tailoring. His hair is smoothed back from his pale face and his three-piece suit is immaculate. And he is already staring at her. She feels a rush in her stomach that is equal parts warmth and nerves, raising her chin a little higher. “Inej,” he breathes, rising to his feet. For once, his expression is entirely unguarded – lips parted, cheekbones flushed red, and eyes wide with a mixture of awe and desire. In all the time she has known him, Inej has never seen Kaz Brekker look awestruck before, but there is no mistaking it now. And it seems she is the cause of it. He approaches her slowly, until his height blocks out everything else and there is only the two of them. He raises a hand, ungloved, as if to cup her cheek – but stops a millimetre short. “Inej,” he murmurs again, his voice catching. When he drops his hand, Inej quickly stamps down the disappointment that rises inside her. It has been better between them in recent months, much better, so she had allowed herself to hope… But she, of all people, knows that demons can strike at the most inconvenient times. But Kaz is not finished. Slowly, hand braced on his cane, he lowers himself first to one knee and then the other before her. And Inej stares at him. Kaz Brekker kneels to no one. It startles her out of silence. “Kaz, don’t –“ But he simply lifts a hand, quelling her with a look. “I have never sworn allegiance in my life,” he begins hoarsely. “No king, no country. No saints, no gods. No master but myself. But you… Inej, I told you we’d be kings and queens. I lied. I am no king, nor will I ever be. But you… you are a queen in truth, Queen of the True Sea. My queen. And I swear to you, for as long as I live, everything I have is yours. Everything I am. Just say the word, and if it is within my power I'll give it to you. I swear it, may Ghezen strike me dead where I stand.” She stares down at him, uncomprehending. “You… you don’t believe in Ghezen.” His eyes flare. “I believe in you.” “Kaz, you don’t –“ she swallows, “You don’t have to do this. The dress, the carriage, the hotel, you. It’s already enough, it’s more than enough. You don’t have to break your pride just to build up mine.” He glares at her, unmoving. “I don’t know why you'd think I was anything less than sincere in what I just said. This isn't mere flattery, Inej, and frankly it’s insulting you would think so.” She closes her eyes a moment. “I don’t know how to believe you,” she admits. “Then let me prove it,” he returns immediately. He stretches a hand up towards her, in plea or invitation. “Please, Inej. Just say the word. Let me prove it.” It is the word please, more than anything, that gets through to her. She ignores his hand and instead drops gracefully to her knees, facing him without touching. She looks him in the eye. “Did you plan this?” she asks. “Tell me honestly, Kaz.” “Yes. No. I don’t know?” He rubs a hand over his face. “I didn’t plan the speech, if that’s what you mean. But I hoped… I hoped the dress would let you see yourself the way I see you, that’s all.” He shoots her a sharp glance. “That part seems to have worked, if I’m any judge. And seeing you like that, well. Pride looks good on you. It just seemed like a good time to say some things I’ve been thinking all along.” Saints, what can she say to that? “Kiss me,” she whispers. He doesn’t hesitate. His only tell is a small twitch when his ungloved hands rise to cup her face, like a static shock, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, and Inej feels all the things he can’t say in his kiss, the desperation of it. She responds in kind, meeting him in the ache and urgency, raising her own hands to hold his jaw, cup the back of his head, knot in his hair and pull him closer, closer, closer. They break for air, foreheads pressed together. Kaz has his eyes closed, breathing hard. “Is this okay?” she whispers. His eyes snap open. “It’s not enough,” he growls. “Not nearly enough.” Desire pools deep in her belly at that, stoking the fire inside her, and she reaches for him again but he leans back, shaking his head. “Stand up and let me see you properly.” So she rises, helping him up too, until they stand just as they were before. Kaz runs his eyes over her slowly, lingering at the the flare of her waist, the bare skin of her breastbone, the angle of her clavicle. The glitter of diamonds at her throat, in her hair. “Glorious,” he whispers fiercely. “You are glorious.” Slowly, without breaking her gaze, he reaches out a finger and traces the deep vee of her collar, beginning at her sternum and drawing up, up, over the curve of her breast and up the side of her neck until he hooks it into the hair behind her ear. This time his lips land just beneath her jaw, mouth moving over her skin with dark intent before moving lower, lower, retracing the path his finger took just a moment before. He presses her insistently backwards as he does so until he has her crowded against the door, head thrown back as his teeth graze her taut nipple through the thin fabric of her dress. He pulls away for just a moment, looking up to meet her eye. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he tells her and she can only nod as he bends to kneel before her once again. Only this time, she is the one in the compromising position, and she can tell from the dark smirk he gives her that he knows this all too well. He strips off his jacket and folds it to create a cushion for his bad leg before returning his attention to her, nimble fingers skimming over the hem of her dress. His touch is firm as he draws his hands up her legs, baring her to him, and Inej feels a moment’s hot embarrassment at the wetness she can feel pooling at her core that feels ready to spill over at any moment. When he reaches her hips, Kaz loops the skirt of her dress around his arm in a single deft gesture, pinning it out of the way against the door. The efficiency of it reminds her of how he fights, a graceful economy of movement, and the thought runs through her with a shiver. Kaz looks up at her then, eyes black with desire. “You can't imagine how much I've thought about doing this,” he tells her, and the businesslike tone of his voice is a shocking contrast to the sudden warmth of his mouth at her core. Inej bucks against him, gasping, as his strong hands hold her in place and his tongue cards through her folds, seeking out the most sensitive point. It’s almost insulting how quickly he finds it – certainly faster than Inej herself had managed on her first tentative explorations – but her surprise bursts into pleasure almost instantly as he moves his tongue in a tight circle, causing her to throw her head back with a broken-off cry, eyes squeezed shut and fist pressed against her mouth. Kaz goes rigid against her. “Don’t –“ he gasps, pulling back. “Let me hear you. It – it helps. Keeps me here.” Inej stares down at him, a thousand thoughts swirling together in her mind. Kaz’s face is damp with her arousal, she can see the sheen of it as it catches the light, and she is hit with a fierce rush of love for this dogged, damaged man. Not only has he taught himself to touch her without flinching, without holding back, but he has willingly put himself in a position almost guaranteed to awaken the worst of his demons. Darkness, wetness. Her heat must be the only thing grounding him – that, and her voice, apparently. How did he get here? How much preparation and ill-fated experimentation did it take for him to get to a position of confidence, to know how this could work for him and how not? How many times did it go wrong, while he was thinking about this and waiting for her to return? And for what? For her pleasure, nothing more. For a chance to give her the only intimacy he knows has not been tainted by the Menagerie. Nothing more or less than that. Saints, but she adores him. She feels a tear escape and slip down her cheek, but she musters a shaky smile for him. “Alright,” she says, trying for levity and missing by a mile. “Let’s see what new tricks you’ve learned.” His mouth quirks at that and he returns to his task, finding the exact same spot as before, the same tight circle. She breathes out, hard, and he does it a second time, a third, and then she feels his clever fingers begin to stroke her too, the counterpoint of sensation almost overwhelming. He dips experimentally into her heat, tongue maintaining the consistent rhythm, and she gives a choking gasp. Emboldened, his slender fingers push further, curving upwards until they brush a spot that makes her vision go white, letting out a keening noise she didn’t even know she was capable of. Always a quick learner, Kaz seizes on this victory and repeats it, steady and insistent as the wave builds inside her and her legs tremble, threatening to give out, until at last the tension breaks, whiplashing inside her like a lightning bolt as she gasps out something utterly incoherent, knees buckling. Kaz holds her upright as she returns to earth, bracing her against the door. He looks insufferably smug and for a moment she feels like hitting him. The thought flees her mind, however, when he catches her eye, quirks his mouth in a small smirk, and deliberately strokes a finger over her nub. Inej yelps, and Kaz’s strength is the only thing that keeps her on her feet as he does it again, sharp eyes carefully cataloguing her reactions. “What-“ she squeaks, struggling to adjust the pitch of her voice to something resembling normal. “What are you doing?” “What does it look like?” She opens her mouth to respond, but breaks off into a high-pitched whine as he strokes her again. Her cheeks flush a furious red at the noises emerging from her, entirely without her permission. “Relax, Inej,” he murmurs, expression softening for a moment. “I’ve got you. You can always say if it’s too much.” Inej squeezes her eyes shut, breathing in sharply through her nose. Exhales. This is Kaz, she reminds herself. Kaz who loves her. Kaz who, just a year ago, could barely bring himself to touch her. She is safe here. And if she is honest… She opens her eyes, looking down at him again. If she is honest, there is something absolutely intoxicating about having Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel himself, on his knees in worship to her. The song inside her swells, fierce and exultant. “Your queen, you said?” Her voice is unsteady, and she’s not entirely sure what she’s asking him, but he nods as though it makes perfect sense. “My queen,” he agrees. His fingers twitch over her, and she shudders. “My love, my life. Slavers’ Terror, Ocean’s Shadow, Queen of the True Sea.” He places a delicate kiss on the spot where she can feel the thudding of her pulse. “Inej.” And then, before she can articulate a response, he has pulled her thighs over his shoulders and pinned her pelvis with his hands, burying his mouth against her once again. And Inej forgets everything, even her own name.     They manage to go four more rounds before collapsing against the door, both of them sweaty and exhausted. Inej can feel her entire body trembling with aftershocks. Kaz turns with a groan, settling between her knees so he can finally stretch out his leg, and she winces in sympathy at the way his face goes taut with pain. “You should have said something,” she admonishes him, carding her fingers through his thoroughly dishevelled hair. “I didn’t notice,” he mutters. “Liar.” “Fine.” He glances up at her. “I didn’t care. Better?” She tries and fails not to smile. “Next time, we take the bed.” Kaz grunts, neither acquiescence nor refusal. “I like you in diamonds,” he says instead. “You would.” “And you?” he asks, twisting to look at her straight on. His expression is more open than usual; he looks concerned. “Was it too much?” Inej considers it. The dress, the diamonds. The way they made her feel. Kaz on his knees for her. My queen. “Almost,” she admits, “but I think I could get used to it.” His mouth quirks. “Power is an acquired taste,” he acknowledges, leaning in to rest his sticky forehead against her own, “but it looks so good on you, my love.” Inej lets her eyes drift closed, brushing her lips across his. She smiles. “Perhaps a crown next time,” she says.

Down in the odious, stinking depths of Knockturn Alley was an incongruously flowery, redolently perfumed venue named ‘Velveteen’ that opened shortly before midnight and closed only at dawn. It was, as the common man would call it, a strip club, and a popular club it was, given that Malfoy, Avery and Lestrange had all become its customers in recent months. Voldemort had never deigned to visit such a disreputable establishment before, but needs must. His ever-reliable intelligence network of Dark creatures, double agents and Imperio-controlled Ministry officials had informed him that the Order had planted undercover agents here after discovering that some of Voldemort’s followers were patrons of this club. The idiocy of his own minions aside—he had warned them to only drop hints that were calculated to mislead—Voldemort had decided to use this as an opportunity. If Voldemort could pretend not to know that the Order had a presence in this club, then he could avail himself of further insights into the Order itself. He could turn their pathetic attempt at subterfuge back on them. If those foolhardy Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were planning to outfox him, the very Heir of Slytherin, then they would be sorely disappointed. Besides, it wasn’t as though Voldemort personally harboured the pointless carnal desires that drove his minions—and the most of humanity—mad. He would remain balanced, objective and in complete control of his faculties. He would attend this club and pay a few of its strippers to dance for him, all while gently peeling back the layers of their minds and extracting clues about the Order’s inner workings. Voldemort had always been more interested in stripping minds than he had been in stripping bodies, and despite the nature of the club he was in, that had not changed. No, Voldemort would feign desire, as he so often had, to get what he required. The Order would, in its attempt to discover more about Voldemort, inadvertently shed light on itself—just as light was now being shed upon the stage, in a glowing, enchanted circle within which miniature stars winked in and out of sight like fireflies. The previous dancer, a gyrating Metamorphmagus whose transformations had kept the audience enthralled, winked and waved as she left. Voldemort settled back in his moderately uncomfortable chair and waited, bored already, unlike the eagerly murmuring patrons around him who were waging money on who the next dancer would be. Except that… it wasn’t a dancer. Or it wasn’t only a dancer. The figure that stepped nimbly into the glowing circle was more nymph than boy, his long, lean limbs clad in nothing but twining green vines, from which sprouted strategically placed leaves that only just covered his nipples and his groin. In-between those vines, his body sparkled with golden specks that caught the light as he moved. Tiny slippers of leaves clad his dainty feet, too, like the makeshift shoes of a very waifish, very mischievous Peter Pan. A fey creature not of this world, but of another, where touch promised not only pleasure, but adventure. But what truly captured Voldemort’s attention were the boy’s eyes. Those kohl-rimmed green eyes glimmered with secrets, with laughter, with magic—a magic that arced and sizzled between him and Voldemort when their gazes met. A magic that leapt and sparked like a struck flint, and Voldemort burned as though his every vein had suddenly been flooded with firewhiskey. An intoxicating, maddening heat. “Gentlemen,” said the puckish sprite, in a musical, half-mocking tone, without once breaking eye-contact with Voldemort, “you know me only as Harry, but before this night is through, you will know more of me than my name. You might even,” the boy’s hands ran up his own mostly-naked thighs, along the delicate tracery of those vines, “…see more of me.” And Harry parted his thighs ever-so-slightly. An invitation. A taunt. A damnation. Voldemort’s heart jerked as if it were a fish caught on a hook, reeled right out of his ribcage only to lodge itself in his throat. The smirk that ‘Harry’ gave Voldemort then was downright evil—but impishly evil, as though he were a tempting little devil that had materialised on Voldemort’s shoulder. And Voldemort had always thought he had demons enough. Apparently not. Around him, the audience had exploded in cheers, but Voldemort hardly heard them. All he could hear was the blood roaring in his ears as Harry turned to smile at the rest of the crowd, but that smile lost some of its sharpness when it was no longer directed at Voldemort, as though Harry knew who he was. As though Harry was a member of the Order. He was, Voldemort was suddenly certain. Not that Voldemort could pinpoint how exactly he was certain, given that he hadn’t subjected Harry to Legilimency yet, but Voldemort’s nerves sang with the knowledge nonetheless. It was a knowledge gifted to him by magic itself, like so many truths were made evident to him before the supporting facts presented themselves. While Voldemort wasn’t a seer, he had always had a special Sight that was all his own, ever since childhood, an ability to sense whether people were lying. And Harry was lying. He was a soldier in the guise of a stripper. He was a pretender. But instead of anger, what Voldemort experienced then was a flare of dangerous interest, a deadly curiosity. The thought that Harry had been spying for the Order thus far, had been entertaining the slavering masses and perhaps even dancing privately for some of Voldemort’s own followers, permitting them to paw at him like the brainless animals they were—that was an insult, an abhorrent injustice, an abomination. When Voldemort discovered who among his Death Eaters had put their filthy hands on Harry, he would cut those hands off. It wasn’t as though they wouldn’t regrow; there were spells for that. Very painful spells, admittedly, but still. None of those fools deserved to have Harry. None of them could expose Harry like Voldemort would. None of them could strip Harry beyond the skin. Harry may bare his body here, but he was hiding what lay beneath it, and that would remain hidden until Voldemort pried it open, until Voldemort teased it open with touches and promises and words. Impervious though Voldemort generally was to lust, it was not as though he could not play the game; he was an accomplished master of all games, including the game of desire, and the thought that Harry might be a worthy opponent was thrilling. Harry would be prying him open, too. The question was, who would be stripped down to the soul sooner? Voldemort knew what Harry was seeking—information of his own to feed back to the Order. How could Harry possibly refuse an opportunity as perfect as Voldemort himself walking into this club? If Voldemort summoned him, Harry would comply like an obedient pet, would kneel at Voldemort’s feet if told to, would look up at Voldemort through those kohl-darkened lashes, would give Voldemort whatever he wished. And Voldemort would take. The universe had always been his for the taking, and now it presented him with this chance to take even more than he usually did, to sate a hunger he so rarely felt. That he could do so while picking his way across Harry’s doubtless fascinating mind and gaining ammunition against Dumbledore was only a bonus. As a low, throbbing music filled the smoke-obscured, candelabra-lit room, and as scantily-clad waiters and waitresses wove through the throng with trays of food and alcohol, Harry began to dance. Again, it was less a dance than it was a playful, seductive display of skin, of dappled shadows that alternately concealed and revealed the soft insides of Harry’s thighs, of his wrists, the backs of his knees. Harry was applying wandless magic to the spotlight that pooled around him, splitting it into glittering strands and wrapping those strands about himself in rippling, gauzy ribbons, playing with the absence of illumination as much as its presence. One ribbon of light became a tantalising veil for Harry’s form while the other became a blindfold that briefly shielded Harry’s eyes; one bound Harry’s wrists behind his back while the other slipped as satiny as a tongue between Harry’s legs, making him shiver. Voldemort had never before witnessed such a prodigious ability to manipulate light itself, and that he was witnessing it upon a stage in an almost-brothel and not upon a battlefield was a matter of some astonishment. So this was what had drawn decent, relatively devoted Pureblood husbands like Malfoy to venture into such a den of iniquity. This dazzling, delectable, surprisingly sophisticated performance. This unbearably sensual, exquisitely woven demonstration of Light magic, which called to Dark wizards like a siren called to sailors, if only to devour them. For Light magic was as greedy as Dark magic; it consumed the Dark as hungrily as the Dark sought to consume it, and it was in this tenuous balance that the world existed, tipping endlessly between the two like the pendulum of a clock. A clock whose every ticking second lured Voldemort towards the stage; he wasn’t even aware of having left his chair, but he had, and soon he was standing directly before the stage, amongst Harry’s most ardent admirers, though they were naught but pests. The only reason Voldemort did not blast them away from the stage was that it would interrupt Harry’s dance, and Voldemort could not bear that. Harry continued to dance, bound and unbound in a series of positions that inspired the imagination, ribbons of light snaking around him like pale serpents, like circlets and collars of gold, crowning him and enslaving him by turns. And then there were the subtle twists of Harry’s slim hips, twists that indicated what else they could do, how well they could ride. There was no pole, no chair, as was standard in these dances if the Metamorphmagus woman had been anything to go by. No, Harry needed no physical props; he was flawless as he was, and utterly shameless, besides. Shameless but artful, deliberate despite his playfulness, Slytherin despite his Gryffindor courage in directly meeting Voldemort’s eyes, and oh, Voldemort wanted. Here, below the stage, he was at eye-level with Harry’s lovely legs, and they were driving Voldemort to distraction. And so, when Harry’s first sequence ended, Voldemort’s hand shot out to grab Harry’s ankle. Harry stumbled a bit, but regained his footing and scowled down at Voldemort. Even fixed in a scowl, that pursed mouth was delicious, plump as though bee-stung with kisses, and glossy with the same golden flecks that made Harry shimmer like a dream, like a mirage. “No touching, sir, unless it’s paid for.” “I’ll pay for it.” In that moment, Voldemort was completely overtaken by how silken Harry’s sweat-damp skin was, by how fragile Harry’s anklebone was within his grip. “Wonderful,” Harry replied sweetly. “Throw a couple of galleons on the stage and ask for me after my show, all right? I’m not done, yet.” “You’re done.” The declaration was as heavy and solid as a brick. Harry’s eyebrows climbed. “Unless you can pay me as much as the entire audience pays me in tips, I’m not done, sir.” The scarcely discernible emphasis on that honorific was as sarcastic as Voldemort might have expected from an Order member who would rather fall on Godric Gryffindor’s sword than address Voldemort as ‘lord’. Voldemort grinned, bright and vicious, and Harry paled at the sight of it. Ah, this clever boy. This clever, clever boy, but still not clever enough to outwit Lord Voldemort. “My dear, I could buy this establishment from its owner, if it pleased you.” “It isn’t about—about pleasing me—” Harry went red, no longer as shameless as he was when he was untouchable on a stage, it seemed. “It’s… It’s unprofessional! And the owner won’t sell, anyway. So be good and wait.” “Oi,” yelled a fan of Harry’s from further back in the audience. “He was about to strip in his next number! Leave him up there for the rest of us, you arsehole!” Voldemort didn’t even glance back into the crowd; his magic lashed out behind him, unseen, and throttled the man into silence. Slowly, calmly, Voldemort said to Harry, “You. Are. Done.” Harry glared at him. And then at the chaos that was breaking out behind Voldemort as people noticed the man Voldemort had silenced clawing at his throat. “Release him. Assaulting a patron is a crime liable to get you permanently kicked out of the club and arrested by Aurors, you realise.” “Oh, my apologies. That unfortunate display of accidental magic was purely involuntary.” Voldemort widened his eyes, the very picture of innocence, as though he weren’t covertly threatening the civilians in this club—civilians that Harry, as an Order member, would be sworn to protect. “You wouldn’t charge me for accidental magic, would you?” Harry’s glare grew at least ten degrees hotter, and Voldemort shuddered in delight. Harry climbed off the stage begrudgingly, and the man suffocating to death in the audience could abruptly breathe again. “That was a very well-timed display of ‘accidental’ magic,” Harry commented sourly, unselfconsciously alluring even now, still clad in vines and nothing else. He had his arms crossed defensively over his chest, but they only drew attention to the small leaves covering his nipples. His formerly laughter-lit eyes were now dark with accusation, but his feyness, his otherworldliness remained, in the elfin cant of his hip and in the vulnerable set of his jaw. He was standing near enough for Voldemort to catch his scent, a scent of pine needles and clover and absolute, unadulterated magic. Voldemort inhaled deeply. “I would like to request a lap dance.” “Request? You practically threatened me by holding an unrelated bystander hostage.” “Yes?” Voldemort tilted his head. “And?” Harry sighed, somehow both courteous and put-upon, like a harried stripper having to cooperate with a bullying customer. But the twitch of Harry’s wand-hand gave him away. The lad was terrified. Brave, but terrified. Because he would do this—he had to do this—just as Voldemort had known he would. Securing the elusive Voldemort himself as a client was a tactical advantage that Harry could not waste. The Order depended on it. The wizarding world, if Dumbledore’s propaganda was to believed, depended on it. “Come along, then,” Harry said archly, pulling on his cavalier stripper persona like the disguise it was. He set off for a curtained cubicle with his hips swaying hypnotically, not bothering to check if Voldemort was following him. But of course Voldemort followed him, because the view was beautiful. The alcove Harry led him to was ungenerously appointed, with a single maroon sofa upholstered in wrinkled, cracked faux leather, and a dented, lopsided barstool that teetered in front of it. The barstool must be for the strippers to perform on for their clients, though Voldemort had no intention of letting Harry sit anywhere but on his lap. Enclosing the meagre area was a frayed black curtain under an Imperturbable Charm, safeguarding the privacy of the alcove’s inhabitants. Voldemort swept his robes aside and sat on the sofa, whose joints creaked like an arthritic old man’s. He silenced it not with a Silencio but by transfiguring it into his favourite armchair from Riddle Manor: a high-backed, ebony-winged, emerald-hued recliner studded with brass buttons that shone a brilliant ochre, like the Basilisk’s eyes. A reminder that he could tame any beast, no matter how mighty or canny; surely a callow youth would not pose too much of a challenge, regardless of how magically gifted he may be. Harry took one look at the stereotypically Slytherin recliner and snorted loudly. “Please.” Voldemort gestured politely at his own lap. “Sit.” Harry swallowed, staring at the space between Voldemort’s confidently splayed legs it as if it were a chasm. “Have you not performed many lap dances?” Voldemort enquired, with just the right note of condescension for Harry’s rebellious green eyes—such a pleasingly Slytherin colour, despite their Gryffindor bravado—to snap up to his, blazing. So much for being an obedient pet. “I’m an expert,” retorted Harry, his tone returning to its former poison-sweetness, from when Voldemort had disturbed him on the stage. “Why, I’d wager I could bring you off without even touching you.” Bring you off. A crude phrase, but succinct. And encouraging. “I’d wager the opposite,” Voldemort said easily. “That I could do the same to you without touching you.” His smile had taken on a predatory edge, an edge that made Harry bristle. “Care to place a bet? You versus I; innocence versus experience.” “Neither of us is innocent,” Harry muttered, “but fine. What’s the prize?” “Doing the winner a favour of his choosing.” “I am not betting my arse on—” “Not sexual favours, Harry. Those are out. Betting on sex would call your consent into question, and I wouldn’t do that.” “Yeah, like you didn’t call my consent into question by asphyxiating some poor bloke in the audience unless I danced for you.” “That,” Voldemort acknowledged, “was inconsiderate of me. Kindly allow me to compensate by saying that you can walk out of this room at any time, without dancing or engaging in our bet at all, and still be paid the money I would have owed you for a lap dance. The choice is yours. What say you?” Harry squinted at him dubiously, but Voldemort knew that Harry didn’t really have a choice. As an agent of the Order, Harry was as likely to walk out on Voldemort as Dumbledore was to not subject everybody around him to endless machinations. “You’ll just lord it over me if I renege on our bet,” Harry groused, taking a few tentative steps forward. If there was a nigh-missable emphasis on ‘lord’—the lad did have a sense of humour—Voldemort pretended not to notice it. “You’ll just smirk at me from the audience every time I’m on the stage, and it’ll get on my nerves to the point where I’ll end up asphyxiating someone: you.” “Intriguing,” said Voldemort, “though not quite to my interest.” Harry spluttered. “I didn’t mean it as a kink—” “Then what is your ‘kink’?” Voldemort pressed. This would all go more smoothly if he could discern how to please the boy, how to sink hooks into him so deep that he’d never get away. Harry spluttered again, before composing himself and saying, with something approaching dignity, “Kinks. Several. And no, I’m not telling you what they are. That’s none of your business, and that isn’t my job.” “No, dancing on my lap is, and you aren’t doing that, either.” Harry’s tentativeness evaporated. Just like that, he was sitting astride Voldemort’s lap, poised above him but not touching him. Harry’s knees were hooked around the outer curves of the chair’s armrests, and his lithe, lissome, gold-flecked body was everywhere Voldemort could see. Everywhere. This… This was the last thing Voldemort would like to see before he died. Not that he ever intended to die, but. The sentiment was there. Harry’s sneered at him, both insolent and provocative. “Doing my job yet? Sir?” “Much more to my interest,” Voldemort hissed in approval of the title, and Harry scoffed. “Should’ve known you’d get off on authority.” “And why should you have known that?” To Harry’s credit, he didn’t let the Order—or his knowledge of Voldemort’s true identity—surface to the level of his conscious thoughts, which Voldemort was skimming out of habit. The cunning little minx only replied, rather tartly, “Because you acted like you outranked every person in this club, including the owner, and unilaterally decided to end my dance routine nine minutes before schedule just so you could have me to yourself at the cost of everyone else.” “One can only ever have what one wants at the cost of somebody else.” Voldemort shrugged. “I learned that early in the orphanage.” “Orph… you... what?” Harry gawked at him. Voldemort gazed back at him guilelessly, like the personal information he’d just divulged wasn’t the blatant manipulation it was. Voldemort despised pity, but it did often serve to disarm an opponent, even if it was an opponent armed with naught but nipple leaves. Very distracting nipple leaves. Harry’s hesitation passed. He didn’t comment on the information he had just acquired from Voldemort for the Order. It was nothing Dumbledore hadn’t already discovered eons ago, as Tom Riddle’s professor, but Harry mustn’t have been apprised of it if he was so befuddled by Voldemort’s revelation. So Dumbledore had failed to adequately equip his own spy. He was as disappointing a spymaster as he had been a teacher. But Dumbledore’s failure would be Voldemort’s success. Because as long as Harry thought he was collecting actionable intelligence, he would persist in interacting with Voldemort. “I’m not going to touch you,” Harry warned him as a muted, rhythmic music began to play unobtrusively in the background. Wandless magic? Impressive. “Because that was our bet. I dance above you, not on you. All right?” “I shall not touch you either,” Voldemort affirmed. Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Whatever.” “You do not believe me?” “No offence, but no-one can keep their hands off me.” In the low light, Harry’s body was as quietly luminous as a spill of honey, golden and slow-moving above Voldemort’s, each arch of Harry’s waist and flex of his thighs a temptation, a titillation. “May I have a list of names?” Voldemort fisted his own hands in lieu of filling them with Harry’s no doubt delectably soft behind. That others had repeatedly claimed what he wasn’t yet allowed to have was hateful. “Purely professional curiosity, of course.” “What, like professional hitman curiosity? Gonna strangle them to death, too?” “Are you sure strangulation isn’t your interest, Harry, given how frequently you refer to it?” “I’m not the arsehole who nearly killed a man in cold blood over a lap dance,” Harry sniped back. Which… fair point. “Show me what you’ve got, then, Harry. And I’ll show you I’ve got more to offer than those bumbling dullards.” “More in your Gringotts bank account?” Harry grinned wolfishly, and it was vicious and wild and wonderful. “Go on, Daddy, show me all you’ve got.” At ‘Daddy,’ Voldemort jolted like a live Muggle wire, afire with a hunger so sudden and rabid that it was though Fiendfyre had swept through the dense forest of his mind and reduced it to ash. Harry laughed lowly, knowingly, damn him, and raised his own forearm to his mouth to lick it from elbow to wrist—half-lidded all the while, in a filthy, thorough, suggestive swipe, with a kittenish pink tongue that Voldemort would love to suckle, a tongue that Voldemort was certain would taste as sweet as its speech was sharp. “Too bad I won’t ever do this to your cock,” Harry said with wide, apologetic eyes, ending his mock fellation by sucking in his thumb, only to pull it back out with an obscenely audible pop. His lower lip was glossy with spit. “I guess I’m just not into egomaniacs with no self-control.” No self-control? If Voldemort hadn’t gargantuan amounts of it, Harry would not be free to flaunt himself like this, untouched and unravaged. Voldemort was fully aroused by now—who wouldn’t be?—but Harry didn’t even spare his very visible arousal a glance. As if it was beneath Harry’s notice. “Do you deem me a masochist, too, to sit here and be insulted?” “Uh, when you agreed to pay me money for not touching me? Yeah. Besides, I know exactly what to do with masochists like you.” “And what is that?” Voldemort asked, experiencing genuine anticipation for perhaps the first time in fifty years. “Show you what you can never, ever have.” Harry lifted himself, lean biceps tensing, only to lower himself until his vine-wrapped thighs were just millimetres away from Voldemort’s crotch. An infernal, irresistible tease. It was all Voldemort could do not to thrust upwards like a pathetic dog, and the futile growl that escaped him made Harry laugh, a sly, lilting, infuriating laugh. Harry’s slender hips rose and fell, rose and fell, as if riding an invisible erection—with firm, grinding circles at the end, in a masterful imitation of coitus. What sounds would Harry produce if he ever did get it deep enough to satisfy him, to satisfy that hard, demanding grinding? Aglow with gold specks and his own perspiration, Harry peered down at him, like a god would at an insect, and huffed in amusement. “A bit white-knuckled there, mate. You okay?” The rascal. Two could play at this game. “A commendable effort,” Voldemort rasped, humiliatingly hoarse, but he hadn’t caved to his baser instincts to damn the bet and fuck the brat over that barstool brutally enough to make him scream—or alternatively to find every erstwhile lover of Harry’s and Crucio them to insanity—so that was a minor victory. “But you haven’t seen my rally, yet.” Harry scoffed. “If you can’t touch me, what can your ‘rally’ even be? Pining away at me with that creepy intensity of yours while coming in your pants like a fourteen-year-old?” Oh, how Voldemort longed to slap this imp’s buttocks until they bruised, just to hear him squeak. To see him flinch. To see him shed tears at the sting, to see him do anything at all that resembled submission, that resembled breaking under Voldemort’s loving, relentless punishment. For Voldemort would be both loving and relentless with such a treasure. That spectacular defiance deserved to be rewarded as much as it deserved to be punished. Harry’s was an impudence so fearless that it was breathtaking; Voldemort had never been spoken to with such callous irreverence by anyone else—not his Death Eaters, not Ministry officials, and not even Dumbledore and his Order. Not until now. Instead, Voldemort did what he’d been yearning to do since he’d originally sensed Harry’s magic. He reached out to it. Harry twitched when a tendril of Voldemort’s magic—dark, hot and abuzz with power—twined with Harry’s, which, when Voldemort focused on it, smelled sunlit and grass-swept, a heady mixture of summer and spring, once again dizzyingly complex with hints of clover, nectar and morning dew. Beneath it all was the tangy saltiness of Harry’s young sweat, moss-damp and ocean-rich. Perfection. “Wh-what are you doing?” Harry twitched again, breaths quickening, leaning back as far as he could without toppling off Voldemort’s lap. “Not touching you.” Voldemort tilted his head. “As per our bet, no part of my body is touching yours.” “But your magic is!” Harry glowered down at him, only to gasp when that sole tendril of Voldemort’s magic branched out and multiplied, a hundred tingling, minuscule incursions slinking around and under the intricate pattern of vines that clothed Harry, tugging them gently away from Harry’s skin and sneaking underneath. “That’s... That’s against the rules!” “What rules? You didn’t bother to establish any.” “Such a fucking Slytherin,” Harry spat, only for his voice to hitch when what might’ve been the sixtieth tendril carefully, tenderly displaced the leaf covering his left nipple. “Not to mention,” Voldemort continued meditatively, despite the vulturous desire swiftly consuming his reason at the sight of that small, peaked, roseate nipple, “that in no duelling competition or Wizengamot legislation is magical intercourse of this sort even categorised as contact. By wizarding law, I am not touching you. Needless to say, that loophole exists largely because most wizards and witches are incapable of this; they haven’t the prowess to extend their magic outwards, or to respond to another’s. We defy those bounds of mediocrity, you and I—that you can sense my power is in itself a demonstration of yours.” “Quit disguising your flattery of yourself as you flattering me.” Harry’s hips jerked when a tendril caressed the inside of his knee. “And since when are we duelling?” “Are we not engaged in a form of combat, Harry? This has been the most combative seduction I’ve ever been subjected to.” A thread of Voldemort’s magic turned Harry’s chin towards him, so that Harry couldn’t look away. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed it. I’ve found it exceedingly charming.” Harry blushed, though it only appeared to anger him more. He was panting, but he was also still glowering at Voldemort, sullen and accusatory, and it filled Voldemort with a ravenous, wracking, near-blinding rapture. He wanted to bite that pouting mouth, that clenched jaw, that succulent nipple; he wanted to brush his lips ever-so-lightly over the rest of Harry, from head to toe, until the boy was writhing. Harry wasn’t writhing now—he was clearly determined not to—but he was squirming, with helpless, uncontrollable shivers that raced along his limbs, raising goosebumps in their wake. Voldemort added a sensation of wetness to his magic, which, in combination with its buzzing heat, would make it as molten-hot as a human tongue, palpable and undeniable. It slid across Harry’s exposed nipple, around his wrists and ankles, and glided sinuously up his back. Harry cut off a complaining, angry noise that was as drugging to listen to as an Imperio would be, were Voldemort susceptible to the Imperius. But Harry was more bewitching than any sorcery. Every shiver of Harry’s made Voldemort’s own breath more ragged. Voldemort leaned forward to whisper in Harry’s reddened ear, part-taunt and part-invitation, “You could carry on pretending to ride me, if you’re able to. Unless you’re conceding our bet?” Harry snarled, and Voldemort’s erection, as yet neglected in his fine-spun wool trousers, throbbed. Harry himself, Voldemort noted, was leaking into the leaves shielding his groin, the vines holding those leaves in place stretched taut by the swollen cock straining within them. It was a vision so unutterably depraved that Voldemort was tempted to slip a tendril in there, too, because he knew, he knew, that it would make Harry come. That it would make Harry lose the bet. But Voldemort intuited that it would be going a step too far, that it would be crossing an inexcusable boundary, and that he would not win Harry’s respect—or consent—if he went down that path. So he settled for wrapping a magical hand around Harry’s throat, in a clasp unyielding enough to be possessive but not threatening. Or not entirely threatening. It had an affect on Harry, though, because the instant the unseen force gripped Harry’s neck, Harry lurched, his legs falling open and his head tipping back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as a garbled moan escaped him. Ah. “Tighter?” Voldemort asked conversationally, despite the feral need blossoming within him, the need to crush, to squeeze. “So you like being choked, Harry. I’ve uncovered one of your ‘kinks’ without you telling me.” “Shut,” Harry slurred, “up,” but the blurt of pre-ejaculate that escaped his cock was copious enough to soak through the leaves of his costume, slicking his inner thighs, which gleamed stickily. Voldemort had begun panting, too. He tightened his grip on Harry’s throat only to loosen it, over and over, until Harry was mouthing airless, frustrated, broken-off curses. Harry’s muscles had gone lax, but he still put up the occasional struggle, as if caught between rebellion and submission. “Nobody has ever teased you like this, have they?” Voldemort rumbled, bestial with want. “Usually, you’re teasing them.” Harry rolled his head back down to glare at Voldemort, though his glare was approximately three-quarters self-hatred. His lust-dark eyes were as depthless as Homer’s wine-dark sea and as turbulent. “W-wait. If you’re going to touch me anyway, just... just touch me like normal.” Voldemort released Harry’s throat and watched him gulp in air, admiring the faint, collar-shaped bruise that was beginning to ring Harry’s neck. A sign of ownership, but also the mark of an equal. No other witch or wizard had ever been deserving of Voldemort’s collar. “What is ‘normal’?” “Greedy. Selfish. Not—not deliberately mapping out my body like you’re dissecting it, trying to find every erogenous zone like you’re taking sodding notes.” “And if I am?” “What?” “Taking notes?” “On a stripper most people pay to not have to do that with?” Harry gaped at him. “Then you’re crazy.” Voldemort hummed. “That is not an appellation I’m unfamiliar with.” “Yeah, obviously. What sane man comes up with ‘appellation’ when he’s hard as a rock?” “No harder than you, Harry.” Voldemort’s magic coiled around Harry’s torso, plucking at the vines clinging to Harry as if they were the strings of a harp, until Harry was wriggling in protest, his arms shaking with the exertion of holding himself aloft. “But I will not touch you physically, today. I pledged not to. So cease attempting to trick me into touching you and losing the bet. Since you haven’t given up on it,” Voldemort nodded at the gap where Harry still held himself suspended a crucial centimetre above Voldemort’s lap, “neither have I.” “Oh, fuck you and your perfect fucking grammar,” Harry gritted out, knees quaking where they were balanced over the chair’s armrests. He was, evidently, not pleased at having his amateur deception thwarted. When Voldemort sent a dark vein of his magic questing past the vines encasing Harry’s buttocks, dipping shallowly into his cleft but no further, Harry grunted and rocked backwards instinctively, only to haul himself forwards once more with sheer, trembling willpower. Voldemort smiled. Broadly. “I thought I was an egomaniac with no self-control. Not an unselfish lover dedicated to learning my partner’s sensitivities, and controlled enough to give him pleasure at the expense of my own, all while maintaining an eloquence few manage even when not engaged in carnal activities.” “Wow. Self-congratulatory, much?” Harry’s hair was plastered to his temples with sweat, but then, so was Voldemort’s. They were both preoccupied by the insidious, inching progress of that vein of Voldemort’s magic, closer and closer to its goal, circling Harry’s hole with a deft, oil-slick tip but not delving in, because Harry hadn’t asked for it and maybe never would. It was the same reason Voldemort had avoided Harry’s cock; it would be a step too far. “You’re such a narcissist,” Harry jeered. “Do you think of yourself when you—oh, oh, fuck—wank off?” “I do not typically masturbate, though I might tonight, thanks to the exquisite torment you’ve subjected me to. I guarantee that I will be thinking of you.” Harry’s cock jumped noticeably within its cage of leaves, which darkened with a fresh surge of pre-ejaculate. Harry’s sunlight-and-clover magic smelled more like ozone, now, the kind of ozone that presaged a summer storm. A heaviness, a potential. The promise of a downpour. A gathering, glimmering petrichor. Voldemort could not have torn his attention away even had the building collapsed around them. Harry’s magic was glowing even brighter, white-hot like a struck flint on the verge of igniting, its heatwaves rolling off Harry and lapping at Voldemort like hungry flames. Harry looked as frightened as he did stubborn, fighting the rising tide of his own climax; he’d plainly never experienced a magical orgasm before, let alone in conjunction with a physical one. Pure instinct had Voldemort guiding a final, pulsing tendril of his magic into Harry’s sagging mouth—the urge to penetrate Harry in some way overtaking him—and at that Harry shouted harshly, half-muffled by the intrusion, and spilled onto Voldemort’s lap. The leaves couldn’t hold it all in; Harry’s seed escaped them and coated Voldemort’s trousers. Harry convulsed, and more fluid seeped through. That—Harry’s surrender, Harry’s abandon—along with the rippling, shattering shock of Harry’s magic exploding outwards and eclipsing his own, was what had Voldemort abruptly climaxing too, like an echo. Stars danced across his vision. It as though his very skull had been blasted to pieces by lightning, leaving an immense abyss behind, except that this abyss was flooded with Light, with Harry’s own magic, which overflowed from Voldemort both physically and metaphysically. He hadn’t expected it. This was no merciful ecstasy, happened upon naturally and built up to steadily; no, this was involuntary and devastatingly brutal, like being shoved off a cliff, or plummeting through the trapdoor beneath a gallows and having his semen, if not his life, wrung out of him by a noose. Was Harry feeling the same? Was he echoing Voldemort as Voldemort was echoing him? Eventually, their magics finished crashing together like deafening cymbals. But reverberation after reverberation still shook through them, until they were left slumped against each other, bet forgotten as Harry collapsed onto Voldemort’s lap. It dawned on Voldemort, distantly, that he had never experienced a magical orgasm with a partner, either, though he had on his own, for none of his admirers had ever been powerful enough to join him. This was a first. Harry was the first. And Harry would be, if Voldemort had his say, the last. Over the decades, they would grow accustomed to the intermingling of sex and magic, and it would not always ambush them so. They would incorporate it into their love-making, which would, as a result, be more intense than most of humanity’s mediocre mating. Transported beyond words, all they could do was catch their breaths, hearts pounding but gradually calming as the minutes ticked by. Voldemort tangled his fingers in Harry’s drenched black hair, stroking his thumb slowly down Harry’s nape. Harry mewled. By Salazar. How could Voldemort resist? He would have kissed Harry then—was just preparing to do so—but there was a crack of Apparition to their right, followed by the wholly unwelcome appearance of Nicodemus Nott. Clad in extravagantly embroidered silver robes, Nott hovered nervously, waiting for permission to speak. Nott’s Mark would have led him straight to Voldemort’s location, and it wasn’t as though a strip club like Velveteen could afford anti-Apparition wards. Even if it was an Order outpost. Especially if it was an Order outpost, masquerading as an innocuous, low-budget adult entertainment venue. Still. Trespassing on such an intimate moment was unforgivable. In a split second, Voldemort’s wand was out and pointing at Nott. Voldemort’s non-wand arm curled protectively around Harry’s back, which had hunched in shame at Nott seeing Harry like this—undone, fever-flushed, come-smeared, vines askew. A good reason to burn Nott’s eyeballs out of their sockets. It was only Harry hiding his face in Voldemort’s shoulder, as if seeking shelter, that convinced Voldemort to opt for threats of evisceration rather than actual evisceration. “Justify your interruption,” Voldemort said to Nott coldly, “or die.” Nott blanched and crumpled to the floor in his customary grovel. “My l-lord,” he stammered, “the children—” Harry stiffened in Voldemort’s embrace. Voldemort ran a soothing palm down Harry’s spine. “Very well.” So Nott wouldn’t have to die for his bad timing; he had, after all, been charged with apprising Voldemort of any… minor difficulties. “Leave.” Nott vanished right there on the ground, without even getting up to Apparate away. “What children?” Harry demanded as he staggered off Voldemort on shaky legs, backing away from him as if from a dragon. The allusion to children had unfortunately snapped Harry out of his post-orgasmic haze. It was back to business. Order business. Harry cast a wordless Evanesco on himself and, in an incredible feat of wandless transfiguration, transformed the pornographically displaced vines upon him into flowing green robes. “My dear,” said Voldemort, “as both of us have lost the bet—” “Screw the bet! What children?” Harry was beautiful even in his moral indignation. In hindsight, Nott barging in on them might have been an unforeseen boon. Nott had provided Voldemort with an excellent means of converting Harry to his cause. Voldemort was not overly anxious about arriving a few minutes late, after roping Harry in; had it been a true emergency, it would have been Narcissa Malfoy herself who would have alerted him, not the relative layabout that was Nicodemus Nott. “As we have both lost the bet,” Voldemort carried on peacefully, while wandlessly cleaning his own clothes, “I suggest that we each claim our payment from the other. I have yet to decide on mine, but what is yours?” “Wha—” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Forget. The. Bet. You’re going somewhere after this, right? To check on the… the children? I’ll come with you. To, um. To help. We better hurry.” “You already did ‘come’ with me,” Voldemort pointed out, in an uncharacteristically puerile pun, just to see Harry go scarlet. “But I certainly would not mind your assistance in ensuring that my children are safe. I appreciate the offer; you may claim your payment for the bet afterwards, whenever you’re ready.” There was a long pause. “Your children?” Harry enunciated, as if making sure of what he’d heard. “You—you have children?” Voldemort rose from his recliner, letting the sofa melt back into its previous, shoddy form. He straightened the waistcoat under his robes and the cufflinks on his sleeves. “Is that so astonishing? Don’t a significant number of your clients have children?” Harry was blinking rapidly. “Yes, but—yeah, er—” “Do I not seem fatherly to you?” Voldemort shot Harry a roguish leer. “You called me ‘Daddy’ before, so I assumed—” “Stop!” Harry’s ears were red again. “That’s totally different! At least, I hope it’s different. God. Kill me now.” He closed his eyes briefly, as if pained, only to open them with a renewed, steadfast resolve. “I just. Your absolutely ridiculous murderousness aside, that secretary or whoever he was called you ‘lord,’ so you must be the lord of an ancient Pureblood house. In which case, you probably do… care… a lot about your kids. Sorry for being rude about it.” How fascinating Harry’s subterfuge was, behaving as if he had no inkling that Nott’s ‘lord’ was from ‘Lord Voldemort’. Equally fascinating were those ellipses, implying that Harry didn’t harbour much faith in Voldemort’s parenting abilities. Not that Voldemort was precisely a parent. “No apologies necessary.” “Do you,” Harry asked uncomfortably, transparently aware that this was a question no stripper would ask unless they were jealous, “do you—have a—wife?” Voldemort threw his head back and laughed. And laughed. And laughed. When he had recovered his composure, he said to a frowning Harry, “No. No, Harry, there never has been, nor will there ever be, a wife. A husband, however… That might yet be on the cards.” It was, after tonight. “I admit I am puzzled by your enthusiasm to accompany me. I haven’t even asked you for help.” Already cognizant of Harry’s role as a spy, Voldemort spoke with a spirit of polite, mildly curious enquiry, not suspicion, so that Harry wouldn’t suspect Voldemort of suspecting him. “You are not involved in my affairs outside of this club, and neither are you fond of me. Why volunteer to help my children when they are not the children of an ally or a friend?” “Because they’re kids!” Harry burst out, as if that was self-explanatory. “It’s not like I wouldn’t also help out some random passerby’s kids on the street.” “You are remarkably altruistic,” Voldemort observed, “for a stripper.” “Excuse me, but my profession has nothing to do with my conscience.” Harry straightened and looked Voldemort dead in the eye, no fear of Legilimency, no fear of anything. “If your kids are in trouble, I’m there.” And he meant it, too, beyond his surveillance of the Death Eaters, beyond his mission to dismantle Voldemort’s organisation. Harry meant it wholeheartedly. Voldemort could perceive it; there were no double meanings, no prevarications. Just the truth. Voldemort stared. A foreign thirst stirred in the depths of him, some alien species of a longing he had heretofore never felt. Legilimency wouldn’t satiate this longing; it needed Harry to willingly confess his secrets. To trust Voldemort enough to confess his secrets. “Indeed?” Voldemort murmured to himself, baffled by this new emotion. “Indeed.” “How come you’re not anxious? A servant came to warn you about—about stuff going off the rails with your children, I presume, but you’re not in a rush to get there. That’s weird.” “Is it?” Voldemort chuckled. “I am going within ten minutes of being informed, and anyhow, the children have highly qualified… carers.” Death Eaters, mostly, armed to the teeth. “Had a dire situation occurred, requiring my urgent presence, I would have been notified by my wards and by the chief nurse, who is truly formidable.” “But it’s still semi-urgent. They could still be in trouble.” How idealistic Harry was, to worry about the offspring of an alleged villain more than the villain himself was worried. “So I inferred.” Voldemort held out his forearm. “Has your shift concluded? If so, I can Apparate us there directly, or if it hasn’t, I can return for you later, after the most pressing aspects of the incident have been dealt with.” “I…” Harry hesitated. Voldemort understood his conundrum: either be all too eager to leave, unlike a stripper who might lose his job for ditching his shift—consequently blowing his cover—or delay freeing potentially endangered children from an evil Dark Lord. “My shift isn’t as important as helping kids.” There was Harry’s courage; he was proving to be a worthy companion at every turn. “Do not be concerned about your job,” Voldemort appeased him. “I will pay the establishment your maximum possible earnings for the night, such that you could not have made more money had you danced for the remainder of your shift.” Harry shrank in on himself, as if embarrassed by taking advantage of Voldemort’s generosity. “Thanks,” he mumbled unwillingly, though Voldemort would gladly be taken advantage of by Harry anytime, for any amount of money. Or finery. Or jewellery. Or any decoration at all that could conceivably go on Harry’s body, or any favour at all that could conceivably make Harry happy. “On the contrary, it is I who should be grateful for your selfless offer. Not many wizards would risk losing their incomes to aid their fellows.” Voldemort kept his forearm where it was until Harry had rested his own hand on top of it, as gingerly as if they were strangers, as if they hadn’t just been joined in the greatest of unions, not merely of the flesh but of the soul. Of magic itself. “Let us be off, shall we?” And so they disappeared in a whirl of darkness, leaving Velveteen behind them.

Hunting season was almost over. One more day. I had guided so damn many city slickers this year, I was looking forward to some rest and quiet. Not having to answer stupid question or trying to stop them from shooting themselves or someone else had been hell. I'm somewhat of a loner anyway. Crowds bother me. Make me feel trapped, almost suffocating. The last day was with a real smart-ass. He thought he knew everything. If you didn't believe it, all you had to do was just ask him. As usual, I put him in a good spot over-looking a major feeding area for deer. One hunting rule I always live by is that you don't shoot doe's (female deer). As we set there watching the clearing, a group of deer appeared, as if out of nowhere. I understood why they were called the "ghost of the forest." One minute they aren't there, the next minute they are. This bozo didn't hesitate. He threw up his gun and took aim. Seeing this I lunged for him and knocked the gun from his hands as it discharged. "You stupid son-of-a-bitch," he shouted. "I had the deer right in my sights." I reached and grabbed him by the collar and shook him like a rag. "I told you before, you do not kill doe's," I screamed. "Fuck you," he yelled. "I want my money back." I grabbed the money from my wallet and threw it at him. He picked it up and left, cussing me as he went. I settled back against the tree and relaxed. Setting there enjoying the sounds of the woods, I felt something wet and soft touch my lips. Opening my eyes, I found myself gazing into the eyes of a beautiful female deer. Startled, I was completely immobilised. She looked at me a minute and then I swear to God she spoke. "I want to think you for saving us from that hunter," she said. I looked at her wide eyed and said, "Now wait a minute, deer can't talk." "No, deer cannot talk but as you will see we are not deer," she said. "We are visitors to your world and this is only our disguise." Now I'm a normal grown intelligent man. Usually not surprised by much of anything but this was a completely different ball game. I just sat there and looked at her. Soon the rest of the "herd" gathered around me. I guess there were six or seven all together. "What do you mean by not being from my world," I ask? "Where are you from?" "We will explain all that later but first, let us do this," she said. As I sat there with my mouth hanging open, they all, one by one transformed back into their original forms. As each one changed, in the deer's place stood a beautiful female. I mean a person! You know, a female person. Women! Naked women!!!! Standing only about 4 foot tall. But still all woman! All shapes and sizes. Some slender, some big, some short, some tall, but all beautiful. My dick was immediately trying with all it's might to break out of my pants form looking at all these naked babes. But I had to keep my cool. "We've been away from our planet for a very long time," she said. "You see, we crash landed here sometime ago, when our craft developed some sort of main booster failure. Since we did not want to be discovered, we took the shape of the first thing we saw. These animals. They are nice but we got tired of the ones with horns mounting us all the time. I mean, it wasn't bad at first but there extensions aren't big enough. Also we didn't know humans would be trying to kill them." "Wait a minute now," I said. "If you can take their forms, how do I know what I am seeing is really what you look like?" "Oh, we are as you see us now," she said. " We come from a planet called Ikon. I am known as Zon, (the shortest one with the big tits) the leader of this group. These others are Hon, (the tallest one) Zee (the redhead) Sha (the blonde) Che (the beautiful brunette) Rah (the dark skinned girl) and this is Zen, our youngest (with huge tits and nipples). We would like to ask your help." By then I was surrounded by them and all I could see was pussy. Every size, shape and color, looking me right square in the eyes. Not moving my eyes from this sight, I ask, "What can I do?" "Would you help repair our craft so we might get back to our world," she pleaded. "We would be glad to make it worth your while." "Sure," I said. "If I can help, I would be glad to. Where is it located?" "Not far. Only about three of your planets sun's walk from here," she replied. "OK -- look, I will have to go back to my place and get some tools and food before we go," I said. "Then we can leave in the morning." "I will send one of us to accompany you and the rest of us will wait here for your return," she said. "Rah! You go and help this human in any way he needs, we will wait in the woods here until your return." "Zon, my name is Mat. Mat Jackson and if you don't mid a suggestion, it would be best if you didn't stay as you are but take a different form. Say as a bird or rabbit or something that won't be hunted or killed," I said. "Good Mat Jackson, thank you for your concern," she said. "Please hurry back." Rah and I left the clearing and headed back to my truck. Once I started the engine, her eyes became round as saucers. "What is this machine," she asked? "This is a truck," I said. "It's a means for us to travel on this planet." Then it hit me. Here I am driving down the road with a naked woman sitting beside me. I touched her shoulder and told her that she had better lie down so no one could see her. She laid over and put her head on my thigh. As if by instinct, my hand came to rest on her tit. Almost immediately, she started moving her body and hips. I grasp her nipple between my fingers, rolling and pinched it. Her entire being shook with pleasure. She took something out of a bag and pointed it towards my crotch. I heard a -zap-, and instantly felt a cool breeze on my dick. Looking down, I saw I had no pants on. My cock was rock hard and standing straight up. She looked at it and grabbed it with her small hands and engulfed it with her mouth in one swift motion. The sensation was almost unbearable. I fought to keep the truck on the road. I could feel her tongue and the back of her throat as she sucked on my cock. I reached down and ran my hand between her legs. Parting the black bush and finding her swollen dark lips, I started rubbing her. She went crazy. Bucking against my hand as if she was trying to stuff it completely up inside her. Just as quickly, she jumped up and straddled my hips. She slid down and impelled herself on my cock. God, she was tight. Tighter than when I felt her with my hand. I pulled of the side of the road and shut off the engine. Rah grabbed both of her tits and stuffed them into my mouth. I sucked on her elongated dark nipples for all I was worth. Immediately I felt something hot and sweet squirt into my mouth. I wanted to pull away but couldn't. I felt I just couldn't get enough of it. My head started spinning. I pulled back from her and saw that she had her hand down on her pussy, ramming it in and out. How can this be happening? I was in her pussy. Or was I? I ran my hands behind her and found that I was in her ass-hole. Not in her pussy. Then it felt like I was changing. Getting much bigger. I looked down and saw the head of my dick slide up between her cunt lips. She must have doped me with what ever came out of her tits. I felt I was still buried in her ass. She then moved up off of my cock and I stared in shock. I now had two cocks. Two huge cocks! "What's happening," I shouted? "What did you do to me?" "I did nothing to you Mat," she said. "You drank of my juices and what ever your were thinking about at that time happens, but only for short time" I thought back to what I had been thinking about when I sucked her tits. I had wished I had two giant cocks so I could fuck her in both of her openings. "Rah, how can this be," I ask? "It's not possible." "Yes, on my world everything is possible," she quietly said. "Now please do me with both of them, it's been so long." I quickly guided both cocks back into her. With a scream she slammed herself down on me. God the feeling was unreal. I could feel both cocks rubbing against each other and it was causing her to come like I had never seen. Her liquid ran down my balls, and formed a huge puddle where I was setting. She was holding on to my shoulders, grinding her pussy hard against me screaming, "GOOD-GOOOOD. OHHHHH -I AM JACKING-IMMMM JA-JA-JA-JACKINGGGGGG-AUGHHHHHHHHH-YESSSSSSS!!!!" I then felt myself starting to come (or jacking as she had called it). It felt like I had two pistons working in her. First one would squirt and then the other. Back and forth, over and over I spasmed. Never had I come so much. I must have passed out. When I came to, she was setting on my lap looking at me. "Damn you are wonderful," I said. "No, you are the one that has pleasured me like no one else ever has," she said. "Rah thanks you. I think maybe you have given me a present inside forever." What the hell she meant by that was beyond me. With that, she leaned forward and kissed me. I had never been kissed with so much feeling before in my life. Also, by then my second cock had disappeared. We picked up what tools and supplies I thought I would need and headed back to the clearing. When we got there I noticed there was no one there. I called Zon's name and was surprised when bears, mountain lions, birds and other animals came towards us. As they neared us, they changed back into the beautiful small women. I told them to get in and we could drive to the sight of their craft if they would show me the way. With Zon and Zee in the front with me and the rest in the back, we started across country. I could see the other girls crowd around Rah, listening to her as she rubbed her stomach. They all looked at me smiling. Suddenly, from out of no where, Zon turned to me and said more as a matter of fact than not, "Mat, you have mated with Rah." Looking at her I answered, "Yes, but it couldn't be helped." "I know but not you realise this means that the others will want the same from you," she said. "Everyone of them," I ask? "You too?" "Yes, I also will want to sample you," she said. "How and when will all this take place," I ask? "Or should I even ask?" "We will stop soon," she said. "Then it will start. I can set up a schedule or you can choose which prefer to be first." "Why don't we let them decide who will be first and so on," I sighed. "I don't want it to sound like it's an order or they have to get on a list." We drove for another of couple of hours and during that the one called Zee was rubbing her nipples and smiling at me. "Somehow" I knew who would be next. We finally pulled off the road, into a stand of secluded trees as the sun was just starting to disappear.. By the time I slid of the truck, I had a raging hardon. The women made themselves busy trying to prepare something to eat, I wondered off to a small stream to bathe. I removed my clothes and submerged myself in the cool water. I looked up after a few minutes and saw Zee standing there. Out from behind her stepped Sha. Two for the price of one. I wondered what was in store for me now. I stood up in all my glory and wade out of the water towards them. As I stepped out, I was met by Zee who plastered herself to me. My hard cock was slapping my belly as I gently lifted her up to my 6 foot 6 height and kissed her. Slowly I lowered her until I heard her sharp intake of breath and felt a tight warm, wet glove engulf my dick. She at once started bouncing up and down on me while I held her and ran a finger in and out of her ass. The sounds she was making were indescribable but I could tell she was enjoying what I was doing. I was getting weak kneed so I lowered myself to the ground, never loosing contact with her. She continued to ride me like a horse. I happen to look up and standing over me was Sha. I licked my lips and she at once got the message. So far I hadn't sucked on either girls tits so I thought I would be working with just plain good old-fashioned sex. Sha squatted down over my face and I immediately started licking her clit and pussy. Each time I passed my tongue over her clit. She would scream. Finally not being able to stand any more I rammed my tongue deep up inside her cunt while rubbing each girls tits at the same time. Both were making weird noises and screaming. YESSSS! MOREEEEE! GIVE ME MOREEEE! OHHHHH GOOOOOD. YESSSS-YESSSSSSSS! GIVE ME YOUR JUICE UGHHHHHH! MAKE ME SWELLLLL! I remember thinking that I wish my tongue was a cock buried up in Sha. When all of a sudden it was there. My tongue had become a 10 in dick. Both girls were going crazy. Then I felt myself coming. I felt like my cocks were spitting our lava instead of come. It was that hot. I tried to scream but with Sha setting on my face (or my tongue or cock-tongue) I could barely breathe. My "tongue" too was spitting its juice into her tight cunt. Both girls started screaming and bucking hard against me as I emptied myself into them. Finally after we three had collapsed from exhaustion. I slowly rose and made my way to the stream. My tongue was back to normal and I needed a cool drink. I bent over to drink and heard splashing behind me. Looking up I found Zon striding towards with Che following close behind. Standing upright, I turned as they both reached me. "Mat, do you think you are rested enough to handle two more of us," she ask. "I can do nothing but try," I replied smilingly. With that Zon pressed her self to me and kiss me until I thought my toes were curling. Where in the hell had these women learned to kiss like that. I turned with one on each side and bent my head to suck on first one set of tits then the other. Again tasting the sweet liquid I had with Rah. Later, I remembered thinking, what it might feel like getting fucked by a man, if I was one of these girls. We made our way to the bank and lay on the grass. Rolled on top of Che and slowly rubbed the tip of my dick up and down between her cunt lips. Her breathing quickened and she spread legs wider. Her juice was already starting to seep out of her cunt, running down the crack of her ass. I placed the head of my dick at her opening and drove into her with one swift motion. Her scream was almost deafening. Slowly I started my thrusting. First very slowly, then rapidly. Once again slowing down and pulling almost all the way out until just the head remained in her. Then slamming into her with all my strength. She was bucking so hard I could barely hold on. Soon, Zon kneeled down beside us. She bent her head and started sucking on Che's long nipples. I could see her slowly drinking the same liquid I had but really didn't think anything about it. While Che was thrashing about in the throes of ecstasy, Zon rose and backed out of sight. Then I felt her behind me rubbing my ass. It felt like someone had driven a hot poker up in me. I looked back over my shoulder and saw why. Zon now had a dick of her own and was ramming me good with it. I thought as first she must have had it up my ass but when I reached back, I found my ass-hole with nothing in it. I felt lower and found something that wasn't there before. A PUSSY! Then I recalled what the heck I had thought about as I had sucked on both their tits. Then Zon saw what I had down there, so she sucked on Che's tits while thinking about a dick. What the hell, if you can't beat them, you might as well join them. Besides it was starting to feel pretty damn good. Then Che screamed and rose to meet my last plunge as I emptied myself into her. Surprisingly, I was still rock hard. I guess with the pounding I was getting from Zon, I must be more turned on than usual. Che slowly worked her way out from under me and bent and gave me one of those soul-wrenching kisses. She then moved to where Zon was. I looked back to see her bend and stick one of Zon's tits in her mouth and suck for all she was worth. As she stood up, I couldn't believe my eyes. Right above her pussy, a huge dick began to appear. When it was about 12 inches long, I felt Zon withdraw from me and was replaced by Che. As she slid that big monster back into my "cunt," I thought I would come right then. Slowly as she was sliding it in and out of me, Zon worked her way under me. I noticed she still had a shaft and not thinking bent my head down and took it in my mouth. The soft smooth texture of it was surprising. I worked my tongue around and up and down its length until I heard her call my name. "Mat! Please no more," she said. "I've got to have you in me." I released her cock as she slid farther down under me. She reached down and guided me into her entrance. As Che drove me from the back, I dove to the hilt into Zon. Surprisingly she didn't scream or holler. She only grabbed my hips and pulled me deeper into her. As Che was pounding into me, I was likewise pounding into Zon but we were not pounding together. As I pulled back from Zon to ram her again, Che was just beginning he forward stroke. But having come all the way out of me, as she slammed back into me she missed my cunt and buried herself in my ass. "AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," I screamed. "OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," Zon moaned. Because I had driven all I had into her trying to escape the searing pain in my ass. Che, not realising the pain I was in kept right on fucking me. I remained still trying to let my ass-hole become accustomed to the invader. Slowly I started to slowly hammer in Zon again. Soon, it felt like my cock had grown twice as big because of the stimulation I was getting from the rear. Faster and faster I pounded into her until I felt the heat starting to rise from my balls. With one last lunge I started coming like a horse. As the spasms started subsiding, I felt Che empty her load in my ass and Zon's climax burst forth. We must have sounded like we were all dying. Because the rest of the girls came running to see what was wrong. They stopped suddenly as they reached the bank and saw me lying on Zon and Che lying on me. All of us with silly looking smiles on our faces. As we made our way very carefully back to camp (me, walking very bow-legged), I kept thinking about this situation. What kind of crazy world do these women come from? Why do they need men there if they can change themselves at will? I think I need to have a very serious talk with Zon tonight. As we set around the fire eating, I casually ask Zon a few of the questions that had been bothering me. Her answers really surprised me. "Mat, our world is dying due to the lack of males to impregnate our women. The few men we have left are old and are of little use to us as sex partners. Our species become pregnant very easily, so each one of us is carrying your child because you have put your seed in us. We can will ourselves to change physically by drinking the fluids of another of our species by simply thinking about it but we can not develop the sperm necessary to produce babies. Our mission was to find men in the universe to take back with us. To become fathers to our new world," she said. I stayed up most of the night thinking about what she had told me. Until in the early morning hours Zen came to visit me. She was probably the prettiest of them all. Her huge tits waving as she walked towards me. She sat down beside me on the bed-roll and we talked. I asked her about her planet and what the weather was like. Did she think someone like me could be happy there. All the while I was closely watching for any reaction from her. "Oh, I think you would be very happy there and with a man of your talents (hee-hee she giggled) I think you would be the most popular man around. The weather and the country are a lot like her only warmer. The trees stay green all the time. But please Mat, right now, can you-how did you say it- uh, can you fuck me?" she ask. Fucking this sweet young woman would probably be the easiest thing I'd ever done. I couldn't take my eyes off of her mountainous tits. Her nipples had to be 11/2 inches long and as big around as a quarter. I gathered her in my arms and kissed her. Again there was another one of those toe curling kisses. I had to remember to ask them about that too. I rubbed all over her. I caressed her butt, her pussy and her tits. I wanted to play her like a fine musical instrument. Soon she was purring like a wild cat. She reached over and inhaled my dick. I mean in one swift swoop, she swallowed every inch of me. God, she was a wild cat. I quickly turned around and buried my face in her cunt. We were like two wild uninhibited dogs. Nothing but wild wanton sex. I wanted every drop of juice I could swallow from her pussy. I finally couldn't stand it any longer. She was driving me insane. I moved up and clamped my mouth over one of those huge nipples. It was like I had turned on a water faucet. She had so much liquid in them that I couldn't swallow fast enough. I sucked greedily from both. Then I turned her over on her hands and knees. I got behind her and rubbed her cunt with my dick until her cunt lips opened like a lotus blossom. She looked at me and said, "Mat, please be gentle, it's my first time to mate." Shit, I was about to fuck an extraterrestrial virgin. I slowly slid my cock in until I felt I hit a brick wall. I left it there for a minute or two and then withdrew until just the tip remained in her. I grabbed both of her hips and jammed forward for all I was worth. "UGHHHHHHHHH- - NOOOOO IT HURTS- -OOOOOOHHHHHHHH-MAT! IT HURTS- - - OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH- - BUT DON'T STOP- - PLEASE DON'T EVER STOP!!!!!!" I then started to make smooth slow thrust. Then as she loosened up and began to become slick form her juices, I speeded up my pounding. Zen was like a wild woman possessed. She couldn't get enough. She kept begging for me to hammer her. No matter how hard I did, it didn't seem to be enough. Suddenly towards the back of my cock I felt something weird. Sort of a swelling. Then I remembered thinking about dogs while I was sucking her tits. That's what it was. A dog knot. Grabbing hold of her hips again I lunged forward with all the strength I could muster. She screamed again as the knot slipped in and began to rapidly expand. Soon she could feel the extra width of my dick. "WHATS HAPPENING?? OOOOOHHHHHHH. ITS SO BIG- -IT'S GETTING BIGGER AND BIGGER- -I'M THERE - - I'M JACKING- - I'M JACKINGGGGGGGGGGGGG- -MAT- - DO MEEEEEEE!!!" My knot had swollen to about 4 inches across and would be stuck together for quite a while. Then I felt myself coming. Damn is this what a dog feels like? It just kept pouring out of me. Every time I would stop, her cunt muscles would spasm and I would start coming again. Her belly looked like it must have had a gallon of come in it from the way it hung down. We were hung together for over an hour. I realised I was in love with this girl. Her innocence and youth did something to me. What would Zon say? All night we stayed together snuggling and clinging to each other. In the early morning we made love again. But with no unusual side effects. Just two normal people (almost). The next morning everyone was up early. Within about four hours we were at the site of their craft. After a short inspection I found I could fix their problem fairly easy. Now I had a decision to make. Plus I still had Hon to impregnate. I called Zon over and told her we need to talk. I told her I had a problem and maybe, just maybe she was the one that could help me. "Yes Mat, I will try to help if I can," she said. "It's like this. I've to make a choice whether to go home with you or stay here and hope that Zen will stay with me. You see, I really care for her and I think she cares for me. I don't know how she would react if I was to be shared by all the women on your planet. I know you all will have my children but I really want here to keep having mine. So I hope you understand my dilemma. What do you think?" Zon studied me for along time before she spoke. "Mat, I can see that you and Zen are meant to be together. As far as having to share you with anyone, that would be yours and her choice. There would be some of our kind that you would want to impregnate with Zen's help but mostly it would be done artificially. "You see, Zen is the Queen of our world. She came on this mission to gain the wisdom and knowledge to be our queen. Her mother left us about (in your time) one year ago. So when Zen returns she will assume her rightful place on the throne. If you returned with her you would be our King. You would help govern our world with the same kindness and stamina you have shown us here on your world. But as far as her staying here---that can never be," she said. I called Zen over to where we were sitting and ask her one simple question, "Zen it is entirely up to you. Do you want me to return with you to be your mate and King for the rest of our lives," I ask. Zen rushed to me and threw herself into my arms knocking us both to the ground saying, "Mat, I love you with all that is in me. I could not bear it for you not to go with me." "OK," I said standing. "Let's get this trip started. We've a long distance to travel and I've got a lot of work to do when we get to where we are going. Speaking of that Hon, since you are the only one I haven't been with, if you will visit me after we take-off, I will try to remedy that. After that I imagine I will be very busy with our Queen." Everyone was cheering and laughing as we boarded the craft. At the door I turned and looked around, thinking that maybe one day I would return to see how my home world had evolved. Maybe my whole family would return.

*** Dante *** I knew I was dreaming, but saw nothing. Only darkness surrounded me. 'What a strange dream...' I thought, trying to distinguish anything in the darkness. Once in a while, faint fragments of sound penetrated the gloom as I kept shifting in and out of consciousness in this black mist. At first I couldn't identify them, for they were too vague. Slowly but surely I started recognizing words, voices... Cyrea's voice! Cyrea was talking to me, but ...I couldn't respond. My body was paralysed while my mind was stuck in this strange void. I tried to wake up and struggle my limbs to life, but I tired far too quickly and blacked out yet again. *** Cyrea *** Exquisite. Absolutely exquisite. No other word could describe being claimed by this wonderful man lying next to me. 'It doesn't matter he's human, soon he won't be anymore, now that our souls are binding...' I mused with a delighted smile while tracing my claw along his muscles, noticing they had already grown significantly since our mating minutes ago. I eagerly eyed his flaccid penis, curious to see if that muscle too had grown. 'Alas, I'll just have to be a good, patient little succubus for now,' I thought wistfully. In the meantime I simply enjoyed watching Dante sleep, trying to discover what else had changed. It shouldn't take long for the fragment of my soul that I gave him with my bite to have fully merged with his own soul, completing his transformation and giving shape to his inner demon. I smiled happily at the thought and was eager to see what Dante could do in demon form if he was able to claim a succubus while still a human. "I'd love to battle you one day..." I mused to his sleeping form. It was unheard of for a human to claim a succubus, but this one did it. My Dante did it. I was still feeling awfully possessive and loving towards him, which was new. I had never felt those feelings for ...well ...for anyone to be honest. I'd known quite a few succubi that were claimed by a Demonic Lord, but none of them ever mentioned being possessive about their claim, or feeling any form of affection towards their master - no natural affection anyway. My claw had traced its way to my claiming bite on his throat and lingered at the site. "I wonder why we do..." I mumbled to my sleeping lover. My hand dropped to the bed and I stared at him wide eyed. "Are you my destiny?" I asked his unconscious form. I laid my head down next to his on the pillow and studied his sleeping face. "Are you the soul that mine has been searching for all this time?" I asked with a tentative smile, stroking his spiky black hair with my hand. Regular, peaceful breathing was the only answer I would receive at this time. If he was, that would have explained so much! The way he longed for me, how quickly he rose up to protect me from those two thugs, the way he made me lose control and in the end claimed me so wonderfully, so exquisitely... Realization dawned on me, and my face lit up with an exciting smile. I couldn't help myself and leaned in to kiss his unresponsive lips. "We are soulmates, destined to be together, dear Dante. Nothing can keep us apart," I mused and kissed him again, unable to stop smiling. "Great things will lie in our paths." As if on queue I started feeling the fragments of his soul in my body mark my back. In my delight I had completely forgotten about this! Just as I had passed on a piece of my soul when I bit him, unknowingly did he do the same when biting me. After a claiming, the transferred souls marked the other's body, showing the world they belonged to each other. Ecstatic, I jumped up off the bed and ran to a nearby mirror to try and see it. I turned my back to the mirror and impatiently held my hair up as I watched how blackened tribal markings were burned into my skin. Even though it looked painful, it did not hurt at all and I happily watched the symbols take shape. They started in my neck and were scorched into my skin in a wide streak along my spinal column, stopping at my tailbone. When it was done, the breath I'd been holding escaped my lips in a pleasant sigh. Carefully I brought my finger up to touch them. Even though the skin itself felt no different, the sensation I got from touching them was sensual, almost erotic. With a smile I turned over to Dante to see if my soul had marked him too. He was sleeping on his side, and when I walked around him to see his back, I was delighted to see those same markings had appeared on his skin as well. I lovingly stroked them, daydreaming about what eternity together had in store for us. As my fingers traced the pattern on his back, Dante moaned softly. Impatiently, I ran over to his face to see if he had woken up, but alas, he was still fast asleep. His large erection greeted me instead. I giggled, staring hungrily at Dante. As much as I longed for the feel of his erection in my hands (or body), Dante would need all of his energy for his transformation, so that meant no snack for me right now. We would have plenty of time to explore each other afterwards. *** Hours had already passed without any progress, except for Dante becoming restless in his sleep - tossing and turning. A deep ache in my heart surfaced when I heard him groan, wince and even growl in his sleep. This was not looking good. Watching him go through an obviously painful transformation terrified me to my very soul, and I ached to comfort him during his transition, yet not knowing how. Dante's face was like a constant slideshow of horrible, painful expressions, and sweat dripped down his body soaking the sheets below him. With a lump in my throat I watched how all the muscles in his body tensed painfully one moment and shakily unclench the next. His legs were twitching, sometimes kicking the air and his hands kept flailing or gripping the sheets on the bed, ripping them in some places. I stared intently at his hands. Did I see that correctly? Not daring to come too close, I peered at Dante's fingers and realized, yes, he now donned claws! Very sharp, black claws curved from his fingertips, slashing the sheets and the mattress in his thrashing. I sighed and looked at Dante with haunted eyes. His thrashing had gotten even worse... His new claws were ripping the mattress apart and he was growling continuously now. "Hold on, my love..." I told him, my voice shaking. "I know it is not an easy transformation, but you must endure." My voice broke a little. "Please... You can do this. You must..." How intensely I longed to hold him, to kiss him and see him through this agonizing ordeal. It pained me that I couldn't, that his violent thrashing prevented me to. *** For the next few hours I helplessly watched how his erratic thrashing and pained growls alternated with an eerie, deathly silence where he would just lie there on the bed, exhausted... Lifeless... Each time Dante's body slumped into the bed, I frantically listened for his heartbeat, fearing his body could endure this transformation no longer. And each time I breathed a relieved sigh, for his heartbeat was still there, furiously beating as his body tried to cope with the infection that was my soul. Tears were welling up behind my eyes. It had been hours since he received my bite... Hours! Why hadn't his body finished the transformation yet? Why hadn't he woken up yet? Would he ever...? I swallowed hard and got up. I sorely needed a break, however small, and decided a shower would have to suffice. As draining as it was to stand by and watch him, it had no use. I couldn't change anything for him and only agonized myself by watching. The shower felt wonderful, though not nearly as relaxing as I hoped it'd be... My hearing had always been excellent (and had gotten even better after my mating with Dante), so the falling water did not drown out the sounds of his anguished growls in the adjacent room. Resting my head against the shower wall, I allowed the tears I had been keeping back to fall, furiously wishing his ordeal would end soon and he would wake up. I emerged from the bathroom looking for something to wear when I heard a loud knocking on the front door. I groaned - I was in the mood for this. 'Probably some kids making prank calls,' I figured. Or... A wicked smile appeared on my face. 'Maybe it's a Jehovah's Witness,' I secretly hoped. I glanced at Dante, who had again stopped thrashing and had been lying still on the bed, breathing hard. 'I could use a little distraction, and what better way than to annoy a Jehovah's Witness,' I decided with a tired smile. Grabbing Dante's robe I scantily wrapped it around me, and went downstairs to open the door. I sensed an angelic presence standing behind the door and gloated at having guessed correctly. I pulled down Dante's robe a little more, showing the slightest hint of nipple, and looked forward to the prospect of annoying the hell out of this angel. I opened the door with a sultry "Hello...", but was surprised when I looked at the angel in front of me. He definitely did look like a Jehovah's Witness. For some strange reason he looked older than the rest of them, wore dark clothes and had a fucked up flickering aura. And that wing... What on Earth? How? I've never seen anything like this. My eyes narrowed to slits and I eyed him warily. "What do you want?" I asked him coldly, not trusting this strange one. The angel, on the other hand, seemed to be overjoyed at seeing me open the door, ecstatic even. "I'm actually looking for my friend, Dante," he chirped, wearing a big grin, "but I see he's been a busy man," he cheerfully noticed with a wink, letting his eyes travel across my body and aura. I suppressed a growl, if only our situation were that simple... My claws extended in frustration, sinking deep into the wooden door that I held open. "Dante is currently indisposed," I said, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. The angel's grin disappeared, concern instantly shaping his face. He knew something was up. "Is Dante alright?" he asked quickly. I suppressed a frustrated sigh. The thing I needed was this weird angel trying to be helpful. "I think it's better you leave," I replied and closed the door. The angel might as well have been a Jehovah's Witness, because he placed his foot in the doorway, preventing me from closing it. "Wait!" he called out, but when he saw my rising anger, he added, "Please... My name is Alexis, and I'm a friend of Dante. Look into my eyes. See my soul and find me speaking truly," I eyed him warily. "Please..." he insisted. So I did. I searched his soul for deceit, and could not find it. He was indeed speaking truthfully - this weird angel was a friend of Dante. Fine. Slowly I opened the door and allowed him in. "My name is Cyrea," I mumbled. He nodded politely in acquaintance. "Unfortunately, Dante is not doing too well..." I turned around to lead him inside. The loud gasp I heard made me stop and turn around to face Alexis, arching a questioning eyebrow at him. He just stood there wordlessly, his mouth agape and his face as if in shock. His finger pointed shakily to my back, where I realized my robe still hung low and some of my markings were visible. "You're bound!" he exclaimed, still staring at me wide eyed. "...To Dante?" he whispered, unbelieving. "Yes," I answered, a small smile tugging at my lips when I thought of our mating. Alexis roared joyfully and started laughing out loud. "No way!" he yelled, joyous surprise etched on his face. "No fucking way! He claimed a succubus!" I could tell he was trying to reign in his enthusiasm in my presence, but it was obvious he was immensely proud and excited upon hearing this news. A small smile framed my lips. This strange angel was no ordinary immortal. I could see why Dante liked him. I watched the angel in silence. Slowly Alexis came down from his euphoric high, shaking his head in joyous disbelief. It must have dawned him that euphoria was nowhere to be seen. Instantly his eyes turned cautious, worried. "Cyrea? Is he OK?" he asked me, concern lacing his voice. I evaded his gaze, not knowing what to say. "How is his body reacting to your bite?" he pressed. "Cyrea?" I took a deep breath to steady my voice. "His transformation is asking a lot from his body... He doesn't seem to be reacting well to it." My ears picked up a growl coming from the bedroom upstairs and my heart ached in reply. Alexis seemed to have heard it too and his concerned gaze crossed mine. "Please, follow me," I said softly and led the way upstairs. Ascending the stairs, the growls and grunts got louder, occasionally alternated by a roar. Sorrow filled my heart when we approached the bedroom and I heard Dante yet again thrashing on the bed. Entering the room, I froze as my brain processed what my eyes were seeing: the skin on his chest had split open out of its own accord, creating a bloody gash, then healed again as fast as it had appeared. I could not believe my eyes! Again it happened, this time on his leg - a horrible, jagged wound appeared, only to be healed the very next second. Terror struck me like nothing I had ever felt. Over and over again his skin would split open on random areas on his body, only to heal instantly, paired by heart wrenching growls from Dante. Slowly the sheets beneath my dear Dante were staining red with all the blood he lost. What could I do? Fear brought tears to my eyes. How I ached to touch him, to comfort him somehow, but didn't know how... There was I could do! I turned around, not wanting Alexis to see the tears that fell from my eyes. Here I was, a succubus claimed by a human, proving him to be a very powerful mate, but that very claim seemed to be his death. The happy cloud I found myself on earlier had completely dissolved and I was plummeting to the ground, fast. Thankfully Dante quickly succumbed to another phase of lying still and breathing hard. I wiped the wetness from my eyes and turned around to face his exhausted form. He was clearly drained and weakened, and his breath was labored. I was grateful his skin had stopped ripping open... Alexis cleared his throat and released the breath he'd been holding. He looked at Dante. "How long has he been unconscious?" I looked at the clock above the bed. It was near noon. "About fourteen hours now I reckon." Alexis arched his eyebrows in surprise. "I take it your body has already finished adjusting to being bound?" I nodded, "Yes... Within minutes actually..." I walked up to the bed and stood next to Alexis. I was afraid to ask... "Will he survive?" I asked softly, unable to keep fear from lacing my voice. I looked at Alexis with pleading eyes, hoping he would know something I didn't, yet terrified to hear his answer. The angel met my eyes with his somber blue ones. "Humans should not be able to claim a succubus, and for good reason. Having your soul merged with that of a demon is not something the human body is designed to handle..." His answer did anything but comfort me, and a panicked sob escaped my lips. Alexis took my hands in his and looked deep into my eyes. "But he's not just human, Cyrea. Of all the humans out there, I'm convinced that Dante can pull through. I know it!" He rubbed his thumb soothingly across my hand. "This man that claimed you is destined for great things. His future will impact earth, heaven and hell. He cannot die from this, he simply cannot." A small smile formed around his lips. "And he won't. Have faith in him. He'll need you when he wakes up. Stay strong." *** Vast plains of nothingness stretched before me. Cracked blackened soil, alternating with jagged rocks jutting upwards and unpredictably deep chasms. Once in a while the ground violently bulged upwards, spewing fire and brimstone in a loud explosion, only to sink back to its unmoving state moments thereafter. The sky was just as dead as the land, with clouds as black as soot and intermittent roars of thunder to be heard in the background. The only light that came from above was when an occasional burning cloud had managed to peek through the darkness and illuminated the dreary sight below. Hell... How I hated it... Despite my roots lying in this place, I felt no connection to it whatsoever and rejoiced when I was finally able to travel to the human plane. Earth was a sparkling gemstone compared to this black hole of misery... "SO WHY THE FUCK AM I BACK HERE?!" I roared into the nothingness. No answer came, of course. Not a soul was to be seen within miles. "This has to be a dream..." I manically mumbled to myself as I scoured my surroundings. "It has to be... I'd never go back here voluntarily." The air was warm and sticky. The smell of sulfur was slowly seeping into my lungs and made me cough. "Wake up Cyrea! Wake up dammit!" I called out to myself. My tail was lashing around and my frustration at not waking up grew by the second. Next to me the ground started bulging and before I could react, large chunks of molten rock spewed up, one of them slamming my arm. While heat could never hurt me, the impact of the rock did. And to my horror, it hurt! I wasn't asleep. Looking around, my soul slowly filled with dread. I was really here. In hell. "NO!" I cried and strongly beat my wings to take off into the dead sky. Soaring through the shadowy scenery I felt my dread increase. Dante! I to get back to him! I had to find out what happened and how I ended up here. Touching the side of my throat I was relieved to feel the scar of his claiming bite. That happen. Thankfully that was not a dream. Taking to the sky I spotted a desolate mountain range in the distance. Fire and lava spewed up between its spiky peaks and seeped down into the chasms below. While my night vision was excellent, the abundance of fire in this place did help me to see things clearer. There was a long, dark gorge in the middle of the mountain range, trailing down deep into the ground. It started out very wide and narrowed into a small crack, almost like an arrow. At the bottom of the narrowest bit of the gorge I noticed the tiniest pulse of pale blue light. Then it was gone. Blue light? In ? Intrigued, I swooped down to get a closer look. Perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me. Yet as I landed at the opening of the gorge and looked down into its abyss, I saw the light again. It was ...beautiful. No other word could describe a light so pure and delicate in a place like this. I was mesmerized by it. Its beauty and serenity were almost compelling me to go down into the gorge and find it. I took a step towards the gorge, ready to fly down in search of the light, but halted at the last second. Was this a trick of some sort? An illusion designed to lure me? Unsure of what to do, I looked around looking for signs of a trap or ambush, but found nothing. I sighed and analyzed what I felt. I know meeting Dante was part of my destiny, I could feel it in my soul that he was the one for me. Looking at that blue light somehow feels similar, like it is of tremendous importance to me, even though I have no idea what it is. I figured I could trust that instinctive feeling - a small smile forming on my lips. After all, it brought me to Dante. That smile quickly faded when I remembered that Dante had yet to awaken from his transformation. The idea that this blue light might perhaps help him in some way, gave me the strength to pursue it. Not one to dawdle on destiny, I once again beat my wings and flew down into the increasing narrowing gorge. The deeper I went, the quieter it became. After a while I couldn't hear the loud explosions of brimstone being blasted in the air anymore. The little bit of light that did manage to seep through the clouds didn't make it down here either. The darkness and silence I found myself in were somehow comforting, and the air seemed cooler down here due to the lack of lava. Yet that beautiful pale blue light was all that I cared about. It pulsed occasionally, quietly guiding me towards its source. The gorge was quickly becoming too narrow for me to fly, so I landed on the rocky ground and continued my journey on foot. The light was intermittently becoming brighter, and as I rounded a corner, I saw its source. A wide underground clearing stretched out before me, leading down to a cave entrance. A steady pale blue glow was coming from within, occasionally pulsing bright. Curious, I walked up to the entrance. A soft sound echoed from within the cave. It was a female voice, singing. Sneaking towards the cave entrance, I noticed intricate designs carved on its walls. Beautiful elaborate decorations depicting large battles, ships on high seas and various sea creatures, weaving through one another. It was astonishing and reminded me of what the humans would describe as viking art. Such beauty and sophistication one did not expect to find in a horrid place like hell. Folding my wings on my back I quietly walked onwards into the cave. Torches with blue light adorned the walls, casting a serene and peaceful glow. The singing became louder and I neared an open area where I saw a woman sitting on a beautifully decorated stone stool at an equally stunningly decorated table. Her back was turned towards me, and she seemed to be working on a gemstone covered wooden staff, all the while singing a song in a language I didn't recognize. She appeared to be mid thirties and her hair was the lightest shade of blonde you could imagine - almost white. It was straight and very long, almost reaching to the floor in her sitting position. She wore a beautiful dress in a deep blue color that had intricate patterns stitched onto it with a golden thread. For a while I just stood there, watching her work on that wooden staff, watching it pulse with blue light and listening to her sing that beautiful song. When the song wound to an end, the woman stopped singing and laid down her tools. Apparently the staff was finished. She carefully inspected the carvings she had created, briefly stroked a white gemstone embedded in the staff and put it down on the table. She got up, turned around and looked me straight in the eyes. I shivered. Her eyes had no pupils and were completely white. A gentle, pale blue glow emanated from them. She just stood there, looking at me. Appraising me. "Cyrea..." I heard a deep voice calling out to me. I looked at the woman, confused. Her lips hadn't moved. "Cyrea..." said the deep voice again. Suddenly my body started shaking violently and an immense pain seared through my head. I screamed as the image of the woman in the cave dissolved into darkness. With a loud gasp I woke up, a worried Alexis hovering in front of my face, his hands tightly gripping my shoulders. Disoriented and with a splitting, mind boggling headache I looked around to realize I had fallen asleep in bed next to Dante. The scent of another man near me while my mate was still unconscious triggered an instinctual ferocious growl and I bared my fangs and claws at the intruder. Immediately my brain realized it was Alexis and I grumbled an apology while rubbing my painful, throbbing head. Apparently it a dream after all... Alexis had taken a step back, but was still concerned about me. "Are you OK?" he asked me softly. "I'm fine... Just a splitting headache..." I grumbled hoarsely. Alexis looked at me with a frown, assessing me. "You fell asleep watching Dante, and it looked like you were having a bad dream. I tried to wake you, but I couldn't. You didn't react to anything. I couldn't reach you..." He looked deeply into my eyes, still concerned. "Are you sure you're OK?" I managed to conjure up a small smile for Alexis's sake and assured him, "I'm fine, I was just having a strange dream, that is all." A dream I wasn't comfortable discussing with Alexis at this moment. Still feeling drowsy I let my gaze wander over Dante's body. no change. I sighed and curled up against him, rubbing my face on his chest and soothing myself with his scent. *** Days passed, and still Dante hadn't woken up. Thankfully the thrashing had completely stopped after the third day. I had hoped it would give his body some reprieve as it still worked through the transformation, but it was clear to see that his body was wrecked and Dante was completely and utterly exhausted by the transformation that still hadn't finished. It had been nearly six days now since his change started, and his breathing and heartbeat had become very shallow and irregular. The powerful man that claimed me was withering away before my eyes and still I couldn't detect even a hint of consciousness. Alexis stayed with me all this time. We were both forced to cope with this situation, and it was comforting not having to do it alone. Alexis addressed the workmen that came to work on the club, introducing himself as Dante's business partner. He told them Dante was currently sick and resting upstairs, and that the work at the club was to be postponed for at least a few days. They grumbled a bit, but when Alexis offered to continue paying their wages they were completely fine with it. Humans... So obsessed with money... Alexis and I took turns watching over Dante so the other could go out, get some fresh air or, in Alexis's case, get something to eat. Dante was the last person I fed from and, despite not knowing if he would ever wake up, I could not feed from someone else without his permission. My bond with him seemed to be working fine in that regard, no succubus would ever feed from someone other than their master unless their master allowed - or ordered - them to. Alexis was a charming and funny man, with an interesting liquorice addiction, and I could see why he and Dante are friends. He was no snob like the other angels. In fact, he was quite something. I was thoroughly impressed with his life story, and felt for him when heaven tossed him out like trash. 'I know I'm biased, but I would choose a life of sin over that of a Gatekeeper any day,' I decided. Still, as the days progressed, sorrow and dread crept into my mind, and I feared for Dante's life. "Why don't you go out and take a walk, Cyrea?" Alexis asked me on the dawn of the eight day. I looked at him with tired eyes. "I don't think I have the energy," I sheepishly admitted. My energy was draining and sleeping helped me preserve as much of it as possible. Alexis sighed, "Then at least go and take a shower. You won't be cooped up in this room all the time, and you'll feel refreshed afterwards." He was right. I needed a change in scenery, and I could manage a shower. "Very well then," I replied with a small smile. The sound of the water running was a bigger relief than I would have thought. Listening to Dante's constant shallow breathing was quite depressing to be truthful. The warm water on my skin worked wonders on my sore muscles and for the first time in days I felt myself relax. Not having any energy left to spend on tears, I just stood there, letting the water run down my back. I was starving, and very weak. I wondered how long this would drag on and if I would see the end of it. Refreshed from my shower, yet exhausted, I dropped myself on the nearest available sleeping spot, which happened to be the office couch, letting sleep claim me once again. *** Hell. I was back. I looked around and quickly realized this was the same spot I started out from in my last dream. This must be a dream too then... Perplexed, I looked around. This cannot be a coincidence. Not waiting for any lava chunks to explode and hit me, I beat my wings and took off towards the mountain range I knew would be in the distance. Everything felt so incredibly real. The hot, sticky air, that horrible smell of sulfur, the soot clinging to my wings... I knew it was a dream, but it felt so vividly, horribly real! Soon the mountains drew closer and I recognized the black gorge at the bottom. I swooped in, looking for the blue light. Despite not seeing it this time, I still felt that strange pull towards it, as if destiny itself was calling me. Landing at the bottom of the gorge I ran along the rocks until I found the clearing with the cave. Relief flooded me when I saw the pale blue light reflect off the intricate carvings on the walls. Quickly I entered the cave, trying to find the woman who sang so beautifully, and figure out why I felt so drawn to her. Silence greeted me. No pulsing blue light, no singing. Nothing. I looked around, but couldn't detect a living soul in this place. Cautiously I explored the cave until I found the open area containing her stone table and stool. On the table I saw that beautiful gemstone covered staff the woman was working on last time. It hovered above the table, a steady blue glow radiating from the intricate carvings and the gemstones were dazzlingly gorgeous. I was mesmerized by those jewels and the way they seemed to swirl and sparkle. Was this what I was supposed to find? Is this staff the reason I'm here? Slowly I approached the table, and gasped at all the magic I could feel shimmering in the air. It seemed to radiate from the staff. Maybe I was destined to find this. Maybe this powerful artifact could help Dante somehow? The closer I got, the better I could see tiny swirling lights in each of the gemstones. For a second there I had to suppress a chill, I got the freaky feeling that the gemstones were somehow. Still, the beauty of the staff was utterly mesmerizing. My clawed hand carefully touched the staff when I felt the magic in the air spike drastically. Shit... It was a trap. All around me, thick stone spikes shot up from the floor and rammed themselves into the ceiling of the cave, forming a cage around me. One of them pierced my wing, rendering me unable to move and making me shriek in pain. I frantically pushed and punched the spike that had shot through my wing, but it didn't budge. Panicked, I looked around and froze when I saw the ashen blonde woman standing a few paces outside my cage. She looked at my struggles with a blank face. "It's futile," she commented, in a light, yet monotone voice. "You do not possess the might or magic to break these columns." Frustrated at my stupidity for not recognizing a glaringly obvious trap, I snarled at her and furiously flicked my tail against the spikes. The woman looked at me impassively, seemingly confident that I was of no threat to her and gazed at her staff that was still floating above the table. The faint blue glow in her eyes intensified and the staff floated towards her. She took it in her hands and inspected it for any damage I might have done to it. Quickly calming myself I tried to assess the situation and see how I could escape from this. Looking at my cage I had to admit that the woman was right - there was no way I could get out of here by myself. My gaze trailed towards the woman and I gasped in surprise when I noticed something so obvious I again felt stupid for not having seen it earlier. I could not see her soul. The woman heard my quiet gasp and looked at me, her face still an emotionless mask. "I cannot see your soul," I whispered dumbfounded, my thoughts going back to the only other person whose soul I couldn't see: my Dante. Pain filled my heart at the torment he is going through right now, and I averted my eyes. I did not want my capturer to see tears forming in my eyes. I heard the rustling of her skirts next to me and looked up to see the blonde woman stand beside my cage, looking emotionless into my eyes. "And why does that hurt you?" she asked in her cold, monotone voice. I tried to find my voice under her scrutinous staring, but it was only barely a whisper. "Because of my soulmate... I cannot see his soul either." The woman scoffed and laughed at me. "Succubi don't have , they have masters. Your only purpose is to provide a warm wet hole for your masters to dump their seed in," she sneered derisively. "They don't love you like a soulmate would. Immortals cannot like a human can." The woman looked deep into my eyes. Her eyes started glowing fiercely and suddenly I found myself overwhelmed with memories. Memories surfaced of the Demonic Lord that tried to claim me, as he did my sisters... Of my captivity... Of my cage in his court.... Memories of how he starved his claimed succubi, and made me watch as he raped them, over and over again... How he starved and raped me as he tried to make me cum. I remember it took me all the mental strength I could muster, but I did not cum. To my joy, and to his anger... Memories of how I had to flee for my life... Memories I tried to forget... Her eyes stopped glowing as my screams died away and my mind was once again mine. The woman had a smug look on her face. " is how succubi should be treated. is all you're good for," she spat at me and turned around, marching off. I was heaving from her mental intrusion. The memories were so horribly vivid, that it took me a while to register what had happened and where I was. Then her words sank in and anger flared up inside me, stronger and more explosive than I had ever felt. I roared and slammed my fist into one of the stone pillars that was caging me. "NO! You're wrong!" I shouted at her. "You weren't there! You weren't protected by him! Or seduced, or You weren't gloriously claimed by a human!" I roared at her, taking out all of my anger on the pillar. "You aren't mated to a human who might not survive his transformation..." My battle roar ended in a desperate, miserable sob. Tears were falling from my face and I kept slamming the stone column in my angry despair. My fists were a bloody mess and I slumped to the ground, my trapped wing preventing me from actually reaching the floor. I wailed at my helplessness, helpless at being trapped inside this cage, and unable to help Dante. Through my tears and despair I did not notice the woman turn around. Again, she stood outside my cage, peering in. I didn't bother looking up at her - the fear of losing Dante overtook me and my tears dripped onto the ground. "Look at me," she demanded. I couldn't. I did not want to hear more of her insults, or be forced to relive more painful memories. Slowly, a soft blue light surrounded me and an invisible energy forced me to stand and look at her face, making me wail in defiant frustration. Her glowing eyes returned to normal and I was released from her hold. Furiously, I glared into her white eyes, daring her to insult me or Dante another time. The woman looked into my eyes, her curiosity clearly visible on her face. "You were claimed by a human?" she asked. Her voice dropped to a whisper, "A human without a soul?" I was surprised to see her face was no longer a blank, emotionless mask. In fact, I was strangely relieved to see emotion in her face, disbelief, confusion and ...hope? "He a soul," I grumbled angrily, crossing my arms. "I just can't see it, but when he claimed me, our souls merged. His soul marked me as his." The woman's white eyes trailed off and I could hear her mumbling very vaguely, "...have a soul. It's just invisible..." Her eyes snapped back to mine, desperation showing on her face. "Your markings!" she called out. "Show them to me!" she ordered with an almost frantic shriek. Upon seeing my defiant stance - I was in the mood of complying with this woman without a fight - she composed herself and added a gentle, "Please...". The transformation of her face was astounding, and confusing. When I first saw her she wore a cold, uncaring stare. Now, her face was a mix of excitement with an almost hopeful, yet desperate look. I slowly turned around, lifting my hair out of the way so she could look at my back. The woman gasped. "They're beautiful..." she mumbled. I heard the rustling of her sleeve when her arm came up to the cage, then stopped. "May I touch them?" she asked hesitantly. I paused, then nodded tentatively. When she touched my markings I sighed at the pleasant, sensual feeling. The woman gasped and quickly withdrew her hand. "Remarkable..." she whispered, and her hand returned to tentatively trace my markings. Again, it felt wonderful to have my markings caressed and I suddenly found myself longing for Dante to be the one caressing me. The woman slowly withdrew her hand. "I can feel it... The love in your bond, the desire you feel for him ...and your despair at maybe losing him," she said softly. I turned around to face her. Tears were forming on corners of her eyes. "It's so pure..." she whispered. "The love between you both. I thought it would be impossible for an immortal to a human..." A small smile appeared on her face. "It seems I was wrong." Her eyes lit up with that familiar blue glow and the stone columns surrounding me receded into the ground. I clutched my wounded wing and eyed the woman warily while I quickly took a few steps away from her. She just stood there, a tear rolling down her face. The wound on my wing healed quickly, and I flexed it, testing its strength. The woman walked up to me and I immediately took another step back, baring my fangs at her and flexing my claws, not trusting her just yet. She halted and raised her hands in an apologetic gesture. "I hurt you. In more ways than one... And I'm sorry. I have an unpleasant history with immortals and have grown to dislike them." She folded her hands in front of her and looked down, bending her head. "Please accept my honest apology." I just looked at her cautiously. She lifted her head and said, "Thank you for showing me a pure bond of love between an immortal and a human. It means more to me than you can fathom." The small smile was still present on her lips. "You have a powerful mate, I could feel it through the markings his soul left on your body. If you both can find it in your hearts to forgive me, I would very much like to meet him one day." I still wasn't sure about all this. I mean, she looked genuine , but then again, she did trap me and hurt me moments before. The woman turned to me and said, "You'd better return to him, succubus. Your mate will wake soon." Now got my attention! "I felt it through your bond. His demonic transformation is nearly complete," the woman said. I gasped in joyous disbelief. Was she speaking the truth? Would Dante survive? The woman saw my reaction and gave me a warm smile. "You are an old and powerful succubus, your soul has caused immense changes within him and has weakened him severely. But do not worry..." she said, smiling. "I'm sure you'll find ways to replenish his strength in no time." She even winked at me. I was flabbergasted. What a strange turn of events... Strange, yet exactly what needed to happen. "Who are you?" I asked, perplexed by her skills. "My name is Eir," she answered. "But most immortals refer to me as the Valkyrie." I inclined my head towards her. "Thank you Eir. My name is Cyrea. If what you say is true, I am most grateful." I needed to go back to Earth, back to Dante! I looked around the cave towards the exit... But ...how? Last time Alexis woke me up, and I had no idea how to escape this place by myself. "...How do I go back?" I tentatively asked Eir, hoping she would know the answer. She looked at me with wide, surprised eyes. "What? Don't you realize you're not really here?" she asked me. Meeting her surprised gaze I answered sheepishly, "Well, I I'm actually asleep on Earth, but I don't know how to wake myself up." Apparently my answer stunned her somewhat, as she seemed at a loss for words. "Cyrea, you're Dream Walking," she finally said. "You've never done this consciously?" I looked at her perplexed. Dream Walking? That was new... "Uhm, no. I haven't," I replied tentatively. Eir tilted her head, deep in thought. "It seems your mate's soul gave you more than just those markings on your back," she mused. I arched my eyebrows in surprise. Wow! "I've never come across a Dream Walker before, but I've read about them. From what I understand you need to envision yourself back in your body and will yourself to wake up," Eir advised me. "Alright, I'll give it a try," I said, closing my eyes. I thought of my body, lying in bed, curled up next to Dante. A warm fuzzy feeling came over me as I thought of him. I imagined myself waking up and stroking his face. Suddenly I felt my body swirling and I opened my eyes to get my bearings. The last thing I saw was Eir smiling at me, then darkness closed in on me. *** Dante *** A faint scent reached my nose. Blood. Old, dried blood. I tried to sniff it again, but the scent was too weak to detect. My body was too weak to move, and my senses were only just starting to come back to me. I slowly opened my eyes, but immediately closed them with a wince. The visual overload of my bedroom in broad daylight was too much for my disused eyes to bear. Keeping my eyes closed, I focused on the things I distinguish. For one, I knew I was lying on my stomach in my bed. I also knew I was still naked, for I could feel the sheets beneath my body. They felt crispy in some places and I figured that was the dried blood I could smell. Wait... Why was there blood on my sheets? Was it mine? Worry and panic suddenly gripped me. Or was it Cyrea's? I tried opening my eyes again. Though I managed to keep them open a bit longer, the visuals were still too intense and I closed them with a weak, frustrated sigh. I did notice immediately that my senses were tremendously more sensitive. Apart from the dried blood I could also detect Cyrea's lingering scent on the bed. An intense longing surged through me. I missed her and needed her near me. In my desire to inhale more of her scent my nose picked up another scent in the room. A male's scent. Instantly I felt my anger surfacing, but then detected a familiarity in that scent. Whose was it...? Ah! Alexis! He'd been here too! I heard movement coming from an adjacent room and was astounded at how detailed the sound was. Apparently someone was in my office, had just gotten up from my desk chair and quickly walked towards the bedroom. I listened for more sounds, but couldn't distinguish anything. I felt the presence come towards me, but my mind was too unfocused to recognize it. "Cyrea?" I croaked, my voice a dry whisper from not having used it in ...how long? Footsteps hurried towards the headrest of the bed. I heard someone leaning down towards me and the faint scent of liquorice reached my nose. Again I attempted to open my eyes. A very relieved and tired looking Alexis was studying my face, his blonde hair a tangled mess. I frowned in confusion, but the light was yet again too much to bear and I winced my eyes shut. Alexis, bless him, silently understood and closed all of the blinds before grabbing a chair and sitting down next to me. This time, keeping my eyes open was a lot easier. Bright sunlight had made room for a pleasant twilight and I could see everything. And I do mean everything. My vision was incredibly sharp, I could see each and every little hair of Alexis's stubble, the dust lying on a cabinet across the room, and even clearly count the legs of a spider in the far corner. What I didn't see, and I intensely wanted to, was my Cyrea. I looked everywhere my eyes could reach and listened intently for any indication she was near. Nothing. No footsteps, no breathing - she wasn't in the room with me. A feeling of dread washed over me, where was she? Was she safe? Was someone hurting her without me there to protect her? I tried getting up, but my body was having none of it. Weakness like nothing I had never experienced prevented me from moving. "Cyrea?" I finally managed to speak with a voice so soft I hoped Alexis could hear me. Merely being awake was quickly draining what little energy I had. Alexis leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Even though he was relieved, he looked at me with a sad and worried expression that didn't bode well. He must have noticed the corresponding dread in my eyes and quickly replied, "Oh, Cyrea's fine." He managed to produce a small smile for my benefit. "She's weak from not feeding, but she'll be fine. She was in dire need of some rest and is still asleep on your office couch. No worries." His eyes glided over my body and a chill ran over me when I realized his worry wasn't directed at Cyrea... but at me. Again, I tried to move, but the effort made my vision blurry, and my heart beat erratically so I just lay still, watching Alexis as he tried to soothe me and softly said, "Don't move. You're very weak. Try not to waste any energy." I decided it best to close my eyes, not liking where this was going. "...Wh...at....." Weakness was preventing me from saying another word. "Happened?" Alexis correctly guessed. I could hear him shift on his seat, probably thinking on his words. "You claimed Cyrea, made her yours, as she made you hers. It was thought to be impossible for a human to claim a succubus, but you proved them wrong. You did it." I could hear him smiling when he said it. "However," he continued with a sigh, concern lacing his voice, "your body is paying a colossal price. Her bite that claimed you as hers, marking you, contained some of her soul - that's how a succubus is bound to her Master, their souls mingle when they bite each other during the claim." I heard Alexis rubbing his face with his hands. "When she bit you, her essence spread through you like an infection. It started changing your body, giving shape to your inner demon. This massive transformation ended up consuming all of your energy. This is the first time you've woken up in eight days." He paused, letting the information sink in. My breath rushed out in a surprised gasp. Eight days?! I heard Alexis hesitate, then clear his throat. "When I got here, you were lying on the bed, unconscious. You were thrashing badly, growling and tearing up the mattress with your claws. Your skin randomly split open and started healing by itself, over and over again." Alexis slowly let out a breath he'd been holding, giving me a moment to digest the information. I was flabbergasted. And terrified. I knew I was alive, and apparently a demon now but, considering what Alexis told me and the current state of my body, I wasn't sure how long that would last. "We have both watched over you," he continued with a weary voice. "Your body went through a massive change, slowly consuming all of your energy. We had no idea how your demonic side had taken shape and had no idea how to replenish your energy. We watched you wither away..." I could hear the strain in his voice as he filled me in. So this was it... I was dying... I was dying, and nobody had any idea how to save me from death because I was unique. Great. Fucking great. Before I had the chance to wallow in self pity, my ears picked up a new sound - irregular footsteps approached the bedroom. Then the most wonderful scent washed over me as Cyrea came to sit on the bed next to me. I opened my eyes to look at her, and even though I could only hold them open for a second, I was overjoyed at seeing her again. With my enhanced vision she looked even more beautiful. I desperately wanted to hold her, gaze into her eyes and bury my face in her tantalizing scent. But I couldn't. I couldn't even force my voice to call out her name. Cyrea leaned over me, her hands tenderly caressing my cheeks and her lips placing a loving kiss on my mouth. My heart leaped with joy when I felt her touch and kiss. Agony followed at my inability to return it. "Shhh... It's okay..." she whispered with a broken voice. "I can feel your agony, dear Dante. I'm here now," she said, leaning over to kiss me again. "I'm so happy you've finally woken up, my love." I could hear her tears dropping on the bloodstained sheets beneath my face. I opened my mouth to tell her something, but no sound came out. "I dreamed you would wake up, and now you have." Relief flooded her tired, broken voice. So many emotions wracked my exhausted body. Intense relief and happiness blended seamlessly with dread and despair. We were together. But I was dying. Fast. I wanted to roar both in joy and anger, but all I could do was lie here, weakened to the point of only being able to breathe shallow breaths. Cyrea felt it. She must have felt my life ending, for more tears dripped down on the sheets next to my head, some landing on my face. Then I smelled it again - the same scent that awoke me moments earlier. Blood. It smelled... delicious! As more of Cyrea's tears landed on the bloodstained sheets, the dried blood moistened, producing that mouthwatering scent. I anxiously tried to breathe in more of it, desperate to find its source. Both Cyrea and Alexis noticed a change in my behavior. "Dante?" Cyrea asked. "What is it?" I opened my mouth to speak, but was unable to produce any intelligible answer of sorts. Now, with my mouth agape, the smell reached my tongue and I could almost taste the blood. My gums started itching like mad. Cyrea laid her head down on my chest. "What can we do?" she sobbed dreadfully, not hiding the fear she felt while her nails desperately dug into my skin. "He's dying, Alexis... How can we help him?" I heard Alexis move over to Cyrea, probably to comfort her, when he suddenly rushed to my side. I felt shaky fingers lift my upper lip. "Fangs! He's got fangs!" Alexis exclaimed. I felt Cyrea lift her head from my chest in confusion while Alexis continued to fondle my fangs. "He's ...vampiric?" Cyrea asked. "He must be," Alexis mumbled. I could hear some rustling as Cyrea stripped up the sleeve of the robe and probably unsheathed her claws, intending to cut her wrist and feed me her blood. Alexis quickly moved to stop her. "Wait, don't feed him your blood," he said, ignoring a fierce, menacing growl from Cyrea. Alexis must have sensed her despair. "Please, let him drink from me. You're very weak already as it is, and I have a feeling you're going to need all your energy if this will replenish him," Alexis said, no doubt wearing that grin of his. After a short pause I heard some more rustling and within seconds the all consuming smell of blood flooded my nostrils. The warm, thick liquid slowly seeped into my mouth and onto my tongue. My eyes flew open and I could feel fangs extend further in my mouth as the blood flowed down my throat. The taste of it was heavenly, and I longed for more. Swallowing weakly I managed to force some blood in my stomach. My body immediately started to tingle all over and I felt my strength slowly but surely creep back into my limbs with each gulp. Alexis's blood was very potent - no wonder, he was a very powerful warrior in his time - and after swallowing a few times I had sufficient strength to hold his wrist to my mouth, after some more sips I was able to sit up straight on the bed. Just a little bit more and I started feeling like the old me. Realizing the me was probably a lot stronger, and would require a lot more blood to replenish, I didn't dare drink more of Alexis's blood in fear of weakening him too much. I was extremely grateful for what he gave me and would figure out feeding later. Swallowing my last mouthful I instinctively licked the wound on his wrist and to our surprise, the wound closed immediately, faster than Alexis's own healing skills could have pulled off. "Neat trick," Alexis commented. He looked a little pale, which accentuated the bags under his eyes that had developed the past few days, making him look a lot older. He stared at his healed wrist for a moment, rubbing his thumb along the healed wound. My angelic friend cast his tired eyes upon mine with a small grin. "Every time we meet, Dante, you keep amazing me. I cannot wait until we meet next time," he grinned with an excited twinkle in his eyes. I chuckled, still tasting his metallic blood on my tongue and breath. "Thank you, Alexis. For everything," I said softly, mirroring his grin. "Yes, thank you so much, Alexis!" Cyrea quipped, intense relief lacing her voice. She wrapped her arms tightly around me, staring lovingly into my eyes, her happiness at my survival making my heart soar. My Cyrea. How ecstatic I was to be able to hold her again. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close to me, thrilled to feel her hair tickle my skin and her soft skin touch mine. The only thing I wanted to do was bask in her presence, draw her close, kiss her, touch her, make love to her, everything! But, I decided while I tore away my gaze from my wonderful soulmate, I must make sure Alexis was fine. I owed him that. Cyrea and I would have the rest of eternity to spend together, and as dire as my need for her was, I had to postpone our reunion for a little while for the sake of my friend. Alexis merely regarded us with a warm, yet tired smile on his face, no doubt realizing we'd want nothing else than to enjoy each other right now. A large yawn crept upon his face. "I think I'm heading home to get some rest. The two of you can handle yourselves fine without me," he said with a wink and stood up from his chair, slowly and unsteadily. Cyrea giggled in my embrace and cast a mischievous look my way, one that I mirrored with a lecherous stare. Alexis smiled warmly at us, managed to take two wobbly steps, but lost his balance and fell. He didn't hit the ground though. With tremendous speed I dashed off the bed and caught him in my arms. Again, I managed to surprise all present. Alexis chuckled a weak "Thank you," and looked at me with a big grin, pride shining through his eyes. "Dante, I am grateful we have met, and I am honored to be by your side. Great things lie ahead of you, and I cannot wait to see you grow into your full potential," he said, staring at me intently. He patted my arm, still smiling, and got up slowly. "Easy there," I said, carefully eyeing his balance. Damn, I felt so guilty for his current state. Maybe I drank too much from him? I had no idea yet how much was much. "I'm sorry if I got too greedy with your blood... I don't..." I tried explaining to him. Alexis immediately dismissed my apology with a wave of his hand. "I'm fine," he said. "I stood up too quickly last time, but I'm fine now," he assured us, seeing Cyrea and me look at him warily. Alexis attempted to walk again, but stopped before landing his first step. "If you could help me get into a taxi though, that would be much appreciated. Then the two of you can finally start feeding each other," he added with a knowing smirk. "Naturally!" Cyrea replied with a grand smile and flowed over to him to take his arm and support Alexis on his way downstairs towards the factory exit. I did not follow them down. I could not. I was frozen to the spot, tightly clenching my fists and needing a moment to actively stop myself from growling. My possessiveness towards Cyrea picked a horrible time to rear its head. Alexis was a friend, a good friend! One who had just saved my fucking life! 'No growling, Dante, come on. You can do this. It's Alexis, for fucks sake!' I chastised myself. I took a deep breath, trying hard to ignore the scent of another male. Another male that was currently my mate! Another growl simmered in my chest. 'NO! No growling, Dante. Focus. A few more breaths. There we go. Calm as a cucumber. Good.' I repeated to myself, like a mantra, managing to calm myself. I raced after Cyrea and Alexis and caught them right before exiting the building. Alexis noticed my absence, but was too tired to say anything about it and Cyrea smiled apologetically at me. Perhaps she somehow felt my emotions? No matter, we would just see off Alexis safely and we'd have all the time in the world to talk. *** The big factory door closed behind us with a heavy thump. We had safely delivered Alexis into a taxi and were finally alone again. Relieved, I sat down on the floor and rested my back against the cold factory door, pulling Cyrea close to me - intensely happy that I was now physically able to and I buried myself in her scent. Oh, that wonderful scent of hers, I wanted nothing more than to surround myself with it all the time. I eagerly rubbed my face in her neck and curls. The mere feeling of her breath on my chest made me sigh in deep relief that we were going to be OK. In the back of my mind I felt my joy and relief, though, somehow I felt those emotions ...twice? Suddenly Cyrea tensed in my arms, and a new emotion invaded my mind - dread. That emotion definitely wasn't mine... I put my finger on her chin and tilted her head towards mine, studying her face. The feeling of dread that I felt in my mind was visible on her face. Then I realized it, it was emotion I felt. "What's wrong?" I whispered, tucking a crimson curl behind her ear. Cyrea looked at me with her deep blue, slightly teary eyes. "It's nothing," she replied, blinking rapidly. "I just realized that your bed nearly became your death bed," she whispered shakily. I picked up my mate - pleasantly surprised at how strong my transformation had made me - and positioned her on my legs so she straddled me. I wanted nothing more than to rid her of that horrible dread she felt and pulled her into a tight embrace, tenderly stroking her back and hair. "It's OK... I survived... I'm fine now..." I whispered in her hair, letting my fingers glide through her curls, taking my time to consciously enjoy the moment and being thankful I was alive. The dread in her (and therefore my) mind lessened and she relaxed in my embrace. "I'm so happy you're fine now, my dear Dante. So immensely happy," she murmured against my throat and I felt her nose nuzzle my neck. Cyrea lovingly kissed my neck and trailed her kisses up to my cheek. She started wiggling deliciously on my lap, rubbing herself all over me. With a tired voice she whispered, "The last time I fed, was from you, and that was eight days ago. I feel very weak and really need to feed from you now, my love." I looked at Cyrea, looked at her and to my disgrace I now saw the signs of her weakness. Her aura was weak, almost transparent, her skin an unhealthy type of pale and her eyes were bloodshot. I groaned in shame and held her close to me. "I'm so sorry my love, forgive me for not noticing..." I said, placing butterfly kisses all over her face. An idea came to me. "Please, use your aphrodisiac on me so you can feed quickly and thoroughly from me," I asked her. She looked up at me, surprised I knew of that little succubus trick. A naughty smile appeared on her face. "What a delicious idea, my dear Dante," she mused and stretched her ethereal wings above us, shaking them rapidly. I looked up to see her shiny powder descend on my skin, being absorbed immediately. Cyrea regarded me with an approving smile and a devilish sparkle in her eyes. She leaned in close to my ear. "I would love to see how intense your lust can become, my love..." she seductively whispered in my ear and licked my neck. "I cannot wait for the wonderful feeding you're going to give me..." she added, her voice turning into a hoarse moan, and rubbed her body seductively along mine. I tightly grabbed Cyrea's ass and pulled her into my hardening cock, reveling in the erotic friction as I welcomed the aphrodisiac flowing through my body. My grip on her ass tightened, my heart rate started picking up and a light sweat broke out all over my skin. I allowed this artificial lust to kickstart my own with a deep groan, drowning out any rational thought until all I could think of was my wonderful mate, and my cock sliding deep into her warm core. "Yesss..." Cyrea moaned. "Oh, yes Dante... Feel your lust rise, let me feed from you, my love..." my lovely mate groaned and gyrated her soaking pussy along the shaft of my cock. My breath hitched, it felt like Cyrea's aphrodisiac coursed through my very veins and I groaned deeply with lust, pulling her delectable body even closer to mine. My eyes rolled back into my head by the intense desire for my mate and I crushed her lips in an all consuming kiss, drawing delicious mewls from Cyrea that made my cock harden fully. My fingers sifted through her curls and held her face close to mine, not wanting the kiss to end. Her tongue pushed against my lips, demanding access to my mouth. She sighed blissfully, almost desperately running her hands along my head and back, hungrily feeding on my lust. I felt her strength slowly return, and she grew hornier by the second. Cyrea rubbed her sexy body all over mine and her hard nipples sensually poked my chest. She grabbed my hair and pulled my face deeper into hers, moaning deeply into our wet kiss. Those lusty moans of hers made my cock twitch. Cyrea felt it. "Oooh, yesss, I've missed you too..." she cooed in between kisses. Allowing her aphrodisiac to take over completely, I felt an uncontrollable urge to rip off the robe she was still wearing. I to feel her body envelop mine, to have her legs wrapped around me and my cock sliding into her hot core, fucking her hard. Cyrea closed her eyes and moaned hotly. A devilish grin appeared on my face - she must have felt my intention through our bond - so I tried to send her a mental message, I whispered hotly into her mind. Her eyes snapped open and she looked at mine, dark with desire. She was panting heavily, her fingers pulling on a nipple. she hissed mentally and she wantonly licked her lips. A satisfied growl rumbled in my chest, instantly loving this intimate mental connection with her. Lifting my delectable mate with ease I stood and bumped her sexy ass into the factory door. I pushed the rest of her body against the door using mine, sliding our sweaty bodies hungrily against each other and pinning her to the door. My mouth was still latched onto hers, still devouring it with an all-consuming kiss, muffling our lusty groans. Cyrea's moans were becoming frantic and she wrapped her legs around my waist, urgently rubbing her soaking wet pussy all over my shaft. I felt the last of my control snap and with a roar I entered her tight pussy in a single thrust. Cyrea screamed in delight and scratched her claws along my arms. The feeling of my cock sliding through her pussy was intense! So incredibly good! I felt every twitch of her pussy muscles, each ripple of pleasure passing through her pussy. It was like nothing I ever experienced. Like a possessed man I fucked her hard, making that sexy ass of hers bump into the door again and again, plunging into her pussy as deep as I could. I growled and moaned at the wonderful, intense sensations of her pussy milking my cock for all it was worth. Cyrea was a panting, moaning mess, voraciously feeding on my lust. My ear was near her mouth, picking up every one of her desperate mewls and moans while I pumped in and out of her hard and fast. It felt so damn good to hear my woman succumb to the pleasure I gave her and each one of her moans seemed to travel straight down to my cock, fuelling my passion further. Her climax was close. I felt it with my body and in my mind. I turned her sweaty face to mine so I could watch her face while she came. Her deep blue eyes were hazy with lust, her mouth open and she was panting hard. Her entire skin was covered in a shimmering sheen of sweat and the smell of her arousal was so thick I could almost taste it with my tongue. My love and lust for my wonderful mate flared up and I could feel my power flow through my body in response, my claws extended, sinking deep into the door and I felt my fangs lengthen. I mentally whispered to her, Cyrea moaned deeply and desperately looked me in the eyes, her mouth hanging open. I told her with a growl. Cyrea's eyes rolled back and she toppled into an intense orgasm. I could feel her pussy muscles milking my cock for its juices and with a roar I gave in to my own orgasm, coating her insides with my cum. My mouth instantly attached itself to the scar of my claiming bite, fangs easily sinking into her skin. Her blood poured into my mouth, the taste absolutely mind blowing. So very sweet, and so very, very addictive. I drank from her all through her intense orgasm, and felt Cyrea bucking and gasping against me. When her climax was reduced to random spasming of her pussy muscles, I withdrew my fangs from her soft throat and licked the wound closed. Her blood was the most exquisite substance I had ever tasted and so extremely nourishing. I felt her blood surge through my body, making me tingle and hum with energy. I stared into the sweaty face of my gorgeous mate. Cyrea opened her eyes and slowly regained focus. She looked at me with a huge, satisfying smile. "I hope your feeding was ...just as delicious ...and fulfilling as ...mine was," she declared, still panting hard. Tucking away that errant curl yet again I could only answer with a satisfied, "Hell yes." I placed a kiss on the tip of her nose, resting my forehead against hers and looking deep into her eyes as we were both coming down from our delicious highs, panting hard. This was a very fast, and satisfying fuck. Exactly what we both needed. Cyrea looked pleasantly full, and well fed. Sweat still clung to her skin and I licked a falling droplet that ran down the side of her face. My wonderful mate giggled and I scooped her up effortlessly with my new demonic strength. Holding her tenderly I ascended the stairs towards our bedroom where I could drop her on the bed so we could succumb to a well deserved, peaceful sleep. Gazing at the bed, I frowned at the state it was in. Ripped, bloodstained sheets covered a mattress that had endured quite a few slashes during my transformation. Cyrea had wrapped her tail snuggly around my leg and was happily purring in my arms, impervious to it all. I turned around and contemplated laying us down on the couch, but that wouldn't comfortably fit the both of us. Noticing my hesitance, Cyrea peeked up at the bed and saw the reason for my dawdling. "We're going to need a new bed," she yawned while snuggling into my chest. She then unwrapped her tail from my leg and used it to rip off the damaged sheets from the bed in one go. The middle of the mattress seemed reasonably unscathed and lacked blood stains, sort of, so I gently laid her down there and scooted up next to her, ignoring the damaged bits of the mattress as they pricked my skin. Pleasantly sated with a good dose of my lust, Cyrea looked like a well fed cat curling up for a nap. She looked so peaceful and I felt her contentment through our bond as she started dozing off. Talk about an after dinner dip. I pulled her close to me and stared at her serene face with that gentle smile, thanking my lucky stars my body survived the onslaught of turning into a demon. Exhaustion slowly crept into my body and I nestled my nose in Cyrea's hair, letting sleep claim me. *** Man... I have never slept so vast before in my life. But then again, I've never nearly died from turning into a demon before, so that must surely count for something. I awoke to the sound of deep regular breathing next to me and opened my sleepy eyes to gaze at my gorgeous mate who was still vast asleep, her red curls spread in a tangled mess on the slashed up mattress. Not being able to resist, I pulled her close to me, feeling her breath on my chest. A shaky blissful sigh escaped me, I was immensely happy and relieved that everything was fine now. Never before would I have imagined how such a simple thing like waking up next to the love of your life would feel so intensely special. I fiercely hoped that every morning would feel like that - that this is not merely an emotional reaction to a near death experience. Whichever it would turn out to be, I couldn't wait to spend eternity with Cyrea and find out. I contemplated how I could pull Cyrea deeper into my embrace without waking her up. The feel of her body against mine quickly became as vital to me as breathing. However, she too had been through a lot these past few days, and definitely deserved her rest. I resorted to fidgeting with her hair while she still slept. My ears picked up the sounds of the oh so quiet, yet nerve wracking sound of a dripping tap in the bathroom. I frowned and searched my memories. Either I closed the tap properly, or my new demonic improvements allow me to hear it. Probably the latter. Speaking of which, I hadn't really had the opportunity yet to examine the changes my body had gone through. Nearly dying and feeding my mate kind of preoccupied my time after I awoke. I silently let my gaze travel over my body and I'm not sure if it really surprised me or not, but I couldn't really detect any demony things about me. My muscles seemed to have grown, and any excess body fat I might have had was gone, though. Not bad, I was liking that one, I concluded with a vain smile. To my surprise, even my dick seemed to be larger in its flaccid state. I made a mental note to ask Cyrea if she noticed a difference after she'd woken up. I lifted my hand in front of my face, knowing claws could come out, but hadn't consciously pulled it off yet. I tried flexing my fingers, but that didn't work - neither did curling them. Staring at my fingernails I focused on them and tried to make my claws appear. Slowly my fingernails started to lengthen and turn black. They became very thick and curved into a razor sharp point. Impressed, I clacked my claws together and looked around for something to test them on. My eyes met Cyrea's who apparently had woken up and was silently watching me explore my new body features. "Try the headboard," she mumbled with a hoarse voice from just waking up. She cleared her throat and stifled a yawn. I looked over to the wooden plank posing as a headboard and tested my claws. Wow, like a knife through butter! My dropped jaw made way for a wicked smile as I effortlessly shaved curls of wood from the headboard. Looking at Cyrea to see an approving smile, I went and carved a big heart in the headboard, flanked by a C and a D. She lifted an eyebrow at me. "Too tacky?" I guessed. "It's very charming," she diplomatically answered with a quick kiss on my cheek. Cyrea fell silent and tilted her head, contemplating. I looked at her curiously when her face broke into a smile, "You know what? I think it'd be an excellent idea if we'd battle each other." My eyes widened in surprise, but her smile only got bigger. She rubbed the last remnants of sleep from her eyes and propped herself up on her elbow to eye me with a mischievous sparkle in her gaze. "Yes! You could find out what you're capable of, and I could show you what I can do, that I can fend for myself. It's win-win!" she quipped. The prospect of an upcoming battle seemed to have cleared her sleepy mind and put her into high spirits, her tail was practically wagging. "Me? Fight you?" I uttered, baffled. "And hurt you on purpose?" I didn't like that one bit. Cyrea just giggled. "If you can catch me," she replied with a wink. Fight Cyrea. Hmm... While my initial reaction was more in the lines of a , after contemplating, I have to admit I started liking her idea. If anything, I was very curious to see what I was capable of now. The only demonic abilities that I knew of were those of a succubus. I didn't even know that demons could be vampiric, like I had become, so this might turn out to be a very interesting experience. "Sure... We could fight. Someday," I conceded slowly. I laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Man... Days ago I was human, and now I've agreed to fight my claimed succubus to find out how my inner demon has manifested. I shook my head, unbelieving. If my horoscope would have predicted this for me a month ago I'd have thought its writers were insane. "What's this thing anyway with 'shaping my inner demon'? Does every human have a demon inside them waiting to be ...shaped?" I asked Cyrea, turning back to face her. She pondered a while before answering me. "Well... Yes and no. Whilst God created humans as perfect beings, as the angels are, Eve ruined it for all of you by biting that apple. All humans have the ability to sin now, and..." I interrupted her explanation with a cynical laugh. "Wait... You mean that actually happened? Adam and Eve in paradise, with that apple?" I retorted dryly. Cyrea looked perplexed, raising her eyebrows at me. "Well of course that happened, silly. How else did you think humanity came to be?" She looked at me baffled and scoffed. "You didn't seriously believe humanity sprouted from monkeys... Did you?" she asked me, disappointment and disgust lacing her voice. I started mumbling something about evolution, science and whatnot, but she shushed me by placing her finger on my mouth. "I'm sorry sweetie, but you were wrong," she said with an endearing smile. With her finger she lifted my upper lip and exposed my fang. "Now, about your inner demon..." I lightly bit her finger, and Cyrea continued her explanation with a smile. "Humans have good in them, because they were created like that. The angels here on Earth try to appeal to that goodness and make it flourish, your angelic side if you will. Us demons appeal to the sin or the violence that's inside of you, and try to nourish that. is your demonic side, and that demonic side has now become a physical reality for you. For every human, their angelic and demonic sides develop differently, depending on their actions, thoughts and desires. That's why everyone's inner demon or angel is different from that of someone else." Cyrea's smile faltered. "And that's why we had no idea how to replenish your energy after your transformation..." She sighed. "But you're fine now, and I'm absolutely you're vampiric. I think it's very, very sexy," Cyrea added with a naughty smile, pricking her finger on my fang. A drop of blood emerged at her fingertip and with a slow lick I closed the tiny wound. Even tasting such a small amount of her blood was wonderful - everything about her tastes exquisite, especially her blood. Cyrea took her healed finger from my mouth and inspected it with a devilish smile. "I also discovered I like being bitten," she mused. I looked at Cyrea, lazily lying on the bed with her wings draped off at the side. Some sort of markings were visible on her back. I was positive they weren't there before I claimed her. "Tell me," I asked and reached over to touch her back, "these showed up after our mating?" Cyrea shivered pleasantly as I touched her markings. "Yes, those markings are the drawings our souls made on each other's body," she said with a smile. "You have the same ones on your back where my soul has marked you. Everyone can now see that I am taken, and that you are the one who claimed me. That way no other demon will ever try to have a go at me without facing your wrath," she managed to exclaim in between purrs and coos from me touching her markings. A possessive smile made its way to my face - this knowledge pleased me immensely. I was not looking forward to warding off every demon that looked her way. "Same goes for the claiming bite," Cyrea continued. "While our wounds heal very quickly, a claiming bite will always leave a scar for everyone to see." Cyrea's fingers traced down my neck and lingered where she placed her claiming bite. The feeling of her fingers touching my scar was wonderful! Almost erotic. She took a moment to study the scar that had formed, the most wonderful smile appearing on her face. She looked at me lovingly and whispered "Mine..." I could feel her intense love shine through our bond and returned her loving smile. With my fingers I too traced a path from her face to my bite. I explored the scar it left, it was a bit red and felt jagged where my teeth had broken the skin. My fingers trailed over it, tracing the jagged lines. A tremendously satisfying feeling of possession came over me and I repeated her declaration with a slight growl, "Mine..." She shuddered in delight and looked deep into my eyes. Cyrea leaned in and kissed me lovingly, climbing on top of me. Her scent washed over me and I reveled in it. How I loved her scent. I could wallow myself in it all day. Brushing my nose past her ear I inhaled deeply. "Have you fed well from me?" I asked, bringing my hands up to stroke her sides. My lovely succubus leisurely stretched herself on top of me, dragging those wonderful, large breasts along my chest. "Mmmmm... Your lust was the most delicious meal I have ever had, my dear Dante," she purred in my neck. I dragged my hands along her sexy ass towards her back, stroking her markings. Cyrea cooed, pressing her nipples in my chest. I lifted her up, trapping a nipple in my mouth and lathered it with my tongue, coaxing a moan from my sexy mate. I whispered hotly in her mind and pushed my face as deep into her large, soft breasts as I could, feeling them bulge around my cheeks. With my tongue I mercilessly teased her hard nipple, sucking it hard into my mouth. Cyrea moaned and gasped with each suck of my mouth. "Fuck yesss..." she hissed, and urgently trailed her nails along my scalp, pushing my head even further into her warm breasts. "MMMmmm... MMMmm!!" she kept moaning over and over. Gasping for air I released her nipple and sucked the other one into my mouth, coaxing another cockhardening moan from my sexy mate. "MMmmm... Dante..." she moaned again. "My nipples are so sensitive, my love... How I it when you suck them..." she panted hoarsely. I grinned into her breasts, feeling her boobs bulge around my cheeks. I kept up my merciless licking and sucking on her hard nipples, her moans going straight to my cock, making it twitch impatiently. I slid my hands down her sides to that wonderful ass of hers, grabbed it and positioned her dripping pussy above my rock hard cock. The head of my cock bumped into Cyrea's clit, making her groan deeply. She desperately wanted to plunge down on my cock, but I didn't let her. With my demonic strength I held her ass in an iron grip, letting only the tip of my cock tease her pussy while continuing my thorough licking of her breasts, making her moan like crazy. Dante... she half moaned, half growled at me, "I want your cock so bad..." and tried to wiggle her pussy for more friction on my cock, but it was useless, I did not budge. I felt her lust - and frustration - rise sharply, but I did not relent. Instead I extended my fangs and let them graze over her nipple that I was still relentlessly sucking with my mouth. Cyrea gasped loudly, followed by the most intense moan. "Yes!" she shouted and frantically pulled my head into her breast. "Oh, yes, Dante! Please! Bite me!" she moaned desperately. I sank my fangs deep into her breasts, still tickling her nipple with my tongue. At the same time I smashed her ass down on my legs, impaling her dripping pussy with my cock in one go. Cyrea screamed in ecstasy, and instantly crashed into a powerful orgasm, moaning and mewling desperately. I effortlessly lifted and impaled my cumming mate onto my thick cock, again and again, drawing out her intense orgasm. She bucked, moaned and thrashed on top of me, while I had still trapped her delicious breast with my fangs, drinking deeply from her blood. Her blood was so, good! Her pussy felt like a vice around my cock while I kept ramming it inside her, being close to cumming myself. Cyrea felt it and went manic. "Please cum! Please, ...Dante, please ...feed me your ...cum!" she begged me loudly, desperately clenching her pussy while her own orgasm still continued. I couldn't hold back even if I wanted to. With a deep growl, muffled by her breasts, I pulled her ass tightly against me, bottoming out and shooting my cum deep inside her spasming pussy. Cyrea immediately flowed into another orgasm, threw her head back and shrieked her pleasure to the world. Oh, how delicious it was to feel her pulsing pussy grip my cock so wonderfully. So very, very good. Feeling her cum on me was something I could never get enough of. My cock kept twitching as her pussy milked it for every drop of cum I could produce. I released my fangs from her breast, happily licking it until the wound was closed and loosened my grip on her ass, allowing Cyrea to happily grind herself on my cock while her orgasm slowly waned. We were both panting hard, thoroughly enjoying the erotic aftermath of our lovemaking. Cyrea sighed and bent over to rest on my chest, her nipples dragging along my sweaty chest in time with her breathing. She nestled her nose in my neck, purring and cooing while her pussy still randomly spasmed around my cock. I felt her cheeks bulge against my throat when she laughed. "How I love breakfast in bed... Don't you?" she mumbled in my neck and rubbed her nose along my hairline, inhaling my scent deeply. I ran my tongue along my teeth, savoring the lingering taste of her blood in my mouth. "Most definitely..." I mumbled with a smile on my face. I drew my mate close, letting my fingers run through her sweaty hair. A loud yawn started deep in my chest, making Cyrea wobble on my chest. "Tired again?" she mumbled with a yawn of her own. I rubbed my eyes and smiled apologetically at her. "Well, having your energy drained to the point of almost dying has that effect on me, I'm afraid..." I replied sleepily. "Uh huh..." was her drowsy reply, followed by deep regular breathing as she too was still recovering after her ordeal and had fallen asleep on my chest. I smiled and stroked her hair again, happy to let sleep claim me again. It would be a while until I'd be fully replenished, and I did not mind it at all if that meant alternating fucking/feeding and sleeping for a while. *** What a week this has been... What. A. Week. We were insatiable in our lust. Absolutely insatiable. I lost count of how many times she came on my cock, tongue or fingers, or how many times her wicked tongue made me cum or I emptied out in her pussy. I fed on her delicious blood copiously. Thankfully the sheer amount of my lust regenerated any of her blood loss quite efficiently. 'I do believe I've now fed well enough to reach my full power,' I decided. Apart from fucking we didn't do a lot of ability exploring these past couple of days, and I'd grown increasingly curious to see what I'm capable of. Satisfied, and with a big grin, I stretched on the bed - that had even more claw marks in it now - and folded my arms behind my head. I was thankful that Alexis managed to keep the builders away for a few more days and grinned, I doubt they could have gotten much work done with all the fucking and moaning going on upstairs. Cyrea was happily dozing next to me - her face on my chest and her etheric tail securely wrapped around my leg. Gazing up at the ceiling I reflected a little, and had to say that I did feel more balanced now. The initial euphoria and insatiable lust that had consumed us in the first few days after waking up had now settled. I also had to admit that while I still saw her as mine, and mine, I could now tolerate the thought of another man looking at her, or even touching her without growling and my fangs descending from their hiding place. We'd have to put it to the test in practice though, but I was confident I'd be OK now. I'd remember that moment where I could not endure Alexis touching Cyrea, but now the thought of seeing my angelic friend brought me joy instead of debilitating possessive tendencies towards Cyrea. I looked down at the lovely lady lying next to me, my Cyrea. In between our sexual sessions we talked a lot, and she told me of her life. Man, she'd been through a lot. Apparently she was very old - and I do mean old. Cyrea doesn't know exactly, but said she stopped counting after her fifth millennium. Being this old does have certain advantages; for a succubus she was very powerful. Both in the arts of seduction, and in combat. 'My little minx is a force to be reckoned with,' I thought proudly, stroking her crimson curls. Unfortunately for Cyrea, being this powerful turned her into somewhat of a trophy for Demonic Lords. While she could hold her own against a few who tried to claim her (and failed miserably), she did face one Lord who didn't take no for an answer. His name was Gaddhir, a very powerful Demonic Lord who had made it his life's mission to claim Cyrea. He captured her, imprisoned her, starved her and tried to claim her as he had done with quite a few other succubi. My brave succubus refused to be claimed though. She resisted the brute each and every time, not cumming before he did. After a century or so, she managed to escape and fled to Earth. She vowed to never go back to hell, and she vowed never to be claimed by anyone. Lucky for me she had no issues with breaking that last vow. The object of my musings yawned and stretched her body against mine. With a sleepy, yet satisfied look on her face she turned to me. Her deep blue eyes twinkled as she yawned a in my mind. "Good evening. It's nearly night time," I corrected her with a smile. "I trust you slept well and are properly rested?" I responded while brushing her hair out of her face. Cyrea burst out laughing. "You want to fuck again? I swear... Your libido can rival that of an incubus..." she giggled into my chest, a hint of pride lining her voice. I laughed, flattered by the compliment. "No, my love, I was actually thinking of going out today. I've fed well from you and do believe I'm fully replenished - in fact, all of this energy in my body is making me antsy and restless. I was actually thinking about burning it in a manner..." I proposed, looking at her meaningfully. Cyrea's eyes sparkled as she immediately understood the hint and bounded off the bed towards the window. She opened the curtains, sliding her fingers through the fabric, deep in thought. Looking outside she surmised, "The sun has fully set. It's completely dark outside now. I can fly us to the desert." Cyrea slowly turned to me, and looked intently at me. She let her power flow through her and took on her true, glorious form. Her pitch black eyes were glittering with anticipation and she slowly stalked towards me, her wings gently bobbing along with her steps, rapidly flicking her tail. "We can fight there. Nobody will bother us," she said, her eager eyes searching mine. Reaching the bed she crawled over me on all fours until her face reached mine. Her body radiated with power and she impatiently licked her lips. "We can find out what you're capable of, my love," she whispered eagerly, tracing the scar on my throat with her claw. "I have a feeling you're very powerful, and I cannot wait for you to unleash it," she said in a low, revering voice. The power exuding from Cyrea's body and mind were phenomenal. Looking at the sheer eagerness in her eyes I felt my own power burn in my chest and surge through my body in response. I could feel my fangs lengthen underneath my lips and my claws lightly graze her skin. Cyrea felt it and growled in delight. She then gasped, a very satisfying smile appearing on her face, showing her fangs in her mouth. "Your eyes! They're black! And your irises are red..." she observed, her grin turning bigger. "So sexy..." she murmured, licking her lips. With the anticipation of an upcoming fight and all that power coursing through me, I couldn't resist taking advantage of her momentarily distraction. I grabbed Cyrea by her shoulders and quickly flipped her on her back, pinning her down. She snarled and bared her teeth at me, and I could barely avoid her claws as she tried to scratch my arms. It seems both of us were quite eager to find a (non-sexual) release for all of our pent up energy. I answered her growl with a fierce one of my own and managed to grab hold of her wrists and held them above her head. Mixing with her power I felt a quick flash of lust as I constrained her, but I ignored it. It seemed I had her trapped, but the little minx had a trick on her sleeve. I felt her tail wrap tightly around my neck and the tip of her spike press sharply in my throat, almost breaking the skin. "Cheater..." I growled with a grin. I released her wrists from my grip and got off the bed. Cyrea was very pleased with herself as she stood from the bed, practically wagging her tail. I pulled her against me, reveling in the power I saw in her pitch black eyes. Judging from her reaction, she saw the same. "Let's go," I said. Without bothering to put on clothes ("They'll just get torn in the fight," Cyrea argued), we used the fire escape to reach the roof. After confirming nobody could see us, Cyrea held me tightly and beat her strong wings to effortly lift us up in the air. We soared over the city at night and the view was gorgeous. Even though I now seemed to have perfect night vision too, the little lights below us were a stunning sight, lighting up the buildings and cars. Soon the intricate pattern of lights started thinning out and darkness was taking the upper hand below us. My mate flew us a little further out into the wastelands where the sandy desert made way for dried, slightly mountainous lands. Not a light was to be seen for miles in either direction. Only the vast starry sky and crescent moon above us were to witness the events taking place on these barren lands. After landing graciously, Cyrea grabbed my face and looked intensely into my eyes. "During our fight we must mute our bond," she said. "We cannot let our emotions get in the way. Do not be afraid to hurt me Dante. I am a very good fighter and will not go down easily." She leaned in and kissed me hard. Through our kiss I once again felt her power rising, spreading through her like fire. Drawn by her power, I let mine swell through my body, feeling the telltale signs of my demon taking over. She broke the kiss, her pitch black eyes meeting my blackened gaze. she whispered mentally as she jumped back while beating her wings strongly, landing about a hundred feet back. I tried tuning out Cyrea's presence in my mind until I couldn't feel her anymore. I was so accustomed to feeling her mental presence with me that it took me a few moments to get used to not feeling her. Closing my eyes I then focused on summoning all of my power. Despite my initial hesitancy at fighting Cyrea, I was eagerly anticipating it now. Radiating from my chest, I felt my power flow through me like a warm, energetic feeling and I clacked my claws together in anticipation of unleashing it. Despite my eyes being closed I Cyrea storm at me with incredible speed. Opening my eyes I saw her soar through the air towards me like a bullet and I quickly sidestepped her opening attack. I felt a gust of wind whoosh past me as I dodged her attack and lashed out at her when she passed me. Her surprised growl brought a grin to my face - I had managed to nick her wing with my claws. I brought my claws to my mouth to lick off her blood. That taste, that wonderful, aphrodisiac taste triggered something vicious in me and I bolted after her, spotting a large gash in her wing that had already started to heal. I was pleasantly surprised at how fast I was able to rush to her - my increased strength allowed me to run at insane speeds and within moments I reached Cyrea. She must have felt me approach as she twirled around incredibly fast, swirling her spiky tail around like a scythe aimed at my throat. I saw her move too late and felt her sharp spike slash my shoulder. I jumped back, clutching the wound, feeling my warm blood drip between my fingers. 'Damn that tail of hers,' I thought and felt my skin itch while the wound closed quickly. Keeping my eyes on Cyrea as she took to the skies again, I flexed my shoulder, testing it. A wicked grin appeared on my face when I realized my shoulder had healed completely already. Apart from some minor blood loss, I was fine. 'Oh, it's on now... No holding back...' I decided. Cyrea reached the pinnacle of her swoop and descended on me again with great speed, her claws aimed at my head. This time I was prepared for her attack and was amazed at the battle awareness my demonic side provided me with - I could excellently deduce when my mate had built up too much speed in her swoop to dodge a counterattack. So I stood there, unmoving, awaiting that opportune moment. My power and adrenaline surged through me when I saw her come at me like a bullet. 'Just a little longer... There!' I thought. In the blink of an eye I dodged her claws and sidestepped, grabbing her by the tail and using her own momentum against her to swing her towards a rock wall. Cyrea shrieked and could do nothing to avoid her impact with the rocky surface. A loud snap reached my ears and I saw her groggily get up from the floor, one of her wings draping weakly to her side. I rushed in for the proverbial kill and was met by an angry growl from Cyrea as she dodged my attack and slashed my eyes with her claws in her counterattack. I roared in pain. FUCK! That hurt! Without giving my body any time to recover from the wounds, she dashed around me with lightning speed, rending my flesh with her claws wherever she could. I growled in frustration, feeling warm blood pour down my face. I tried striking her, but without my eyesight to track her, I just hit clean air. My eyes were healing far too slowly to allow me to stop her onslaught. Her slashes across my body were not stopping, and while they healed quickly (quicker than my eyes anyway...), I knew I had lost a lot of blood. This did not look good. Her attacks seemed to go on for ages and the blood loss was slowly starting to weaken me. Cyrea must have felt it as she once again took to the skies, preparing for a final, crushing attack. In that brief reprieve my eyes finally managed to heal and I blinked furiously, my eyesight returning to me at last. I saw my wicked mate hover above me in the sky, a triumphant smile on her face at her impending victory. Rage coursed through me. I will not be defeated! I will NOT! I roared in defiance and summoned every bit of power in my body. I felt something stir and shift inside me, and a massive surge of strength flooded my body, obliterating the weakness that crept in moments prior. Cyrea gunned down towards me with tremendous speed. This time I would not dodge and stood fast to meet her head on. The moment she impacted on me, I dug my claws into her sides. Instead of running me to the ground, she quickly flew up very high, enduring my scratching claws with painful growls. When she couldn't take any more wounds she started struggling and managed to toss me off of her. A thousand feet high in the air... Fuck... The only sound I heard was the air whooshing past my ears while I fell... She got me. There was nothing I could do as I plummeted down to the hard, rocky soil... NO! This was NOT the end! I refuse! My rage from moments ago turned into downright fury. I to let this be the end and roared my defiance into the night. Again, I felt something stir and shift inside me. My upper back started burning like crazy, and I heard and felt a painful snap. Something hard and wet flopped against my back and legs. What the... Confused, I looked behind me. Wings! I had wings! They were covered in my blood, and they were huge! Looking back to the ground I saw that impact was imminent. However, instinct instantly took over. Somehow I spread my wings, feeling them cut through the air and beat them powerfully, changing my momentum and turning a grisly drop to the ground into a gracious swoop back up into the sky. Reveling in my new ability I hovered in the night sky, looking down at the earth, the sound of my beating wings the only thing I could hear. That, and Cyrea's frustrated growl. She almost won. Almost. Still feeling my energy flow through me at full force I beat my wings and flew at her with incredible speed. Cyrea clearly didn't expect me to be so fast and I caught her by surprise. I grabbed her, wrapping my arms around her like a band of steel, trapping both her wings and arms. She roared at me in frustration, her spiked tail ramming itself deep into my flesh over and over again. She struggled and bucked, doing anything in her power to try and break free. It was useless. I didn't budge, and I couldn't care less about the pain. My mind was hellbent on winning this battle. I flew up high and when I reached enough altitude I shot downwards with tremendous speed. I was going to use my succubus's own tactic against her. I flew so fast that the wind was stinging my eyes. At the very last moment I released Cyrea, letting her impact to the ground with a loud crash. Quickly I beat my wings to steer me away from impact and swooped back to land near her. The impact had left a small crater and Cyrea was slowly getting up. She had a few broken bones and her wings were crooked. Slowly I stalked towards her, like a predator to its prey. I flexed my claws as I felt my power radiate off me in waves. I kept watching her closely, knowing my mate was a devious one. Her bones were healing nicely and her wings were looking normal again in no time. She watched me approach her, anger rolling off of her. Yet it was that tiny hint of surprise in her eyes that made me grin devilishly. She clearly underestimated me - didn't think I could restrain her and succeed in crashing her into the ground. When I came close, she snarled and leapt at me, claws extended. With a strong beat of my wings I dodged out of her way and ran my claws down her back, leaving deep bloody gashes in her flesh. Cyrea roared in anger and pain, and turned around to attack me again. Over and over again I dodged her effortlessly and wounded her until she was panting profusely and growling continuously. I had the upper hand now, and she knew it. Deciding this had taken long enough I barged at her and crushed her to the ground. In her final attempt she tried to slash me with her tail, but I had anticipated that move and pinned her tail to the ground with my wing. To ensure she wouldn't try and slash me with her claws, I took her wrists and pinned them to the ground above her head with one hand. She was having none of it and tried to kick me off. I then pinned her legs together with mine. I had her trapped. She couldn't move. Cyrea kept trying to break free, she yanked and pulled, but couldn't even loosen my grip, let alone break my hold on her. She lay still beneath me and I unmuted our bond to feel her emotions. There was a fair amount of battlerage inside of her, though it quickly gave way to immense pride. Pride, and rapidly increasing lust and desire. "It seems I've beaten you, my love," I panted with a smug smile. At that comment I felt her power spike up one last time and she once again struggled fiercely in my grasp. I lowered my body heavily on hers, stilling her squirming and enforcing my hold on her. She was pinned and there was no way she could get out of this. Through our bond I felt her battlerage fizzle out and desire quickly taking its place. The scent of her arousal rapidly filled the air as she acquiesced to my dominance, both in battle as well as sexually. Cyrea looked deep into my eyes and wantonly licked her lips. "You've become so powerful, Dante..." she murmured, stretching her body against mine, rubbing her belly and breasts along my chest. "So very, powerful..." she moaned and her eyes rolled into the back of her head while she desperately tried to rub her pinned pussy along my hardening cock. My mate could hardly move, my body and weight effectively pinning her to the ground. Being at my complete and utter mercy skyrocketed her lust and she lay panting underneath me, wiggling furiously, desperately seeking out that erotic friction while the scent of her arousal grew thicker by the second. I couldn't suppress a low growl at my wanton mate, desiring me so fiercely, and leaned in to her ear. "Mine..." I growled at her verbally and mentally and heavily dragged my tongue along the scar of my bite to emphasize my claim. Cyrea moaned loudly, trying to buck against me and I felt the last of my battle rage quickly making way for an intense desire for my mate. I had Cyrea beneath me, pinned and panting hard. My nose was still at her neck and I slowly and deeply inhaled her scent, letting my breath come out in a possessive growl. Cyrea turned her head to the side with a delighted sigh, submitting to me and exposing the scar on her throat. She started moaning and wiggling again while I slowly licked and nibbled my way to the site of my claiming bite. The closer I got to it, the more desperate her mewling became. I traced my tongue across the jagged lines, her moaning music to my ears. Her instant submission triggered something very primal inside me and I couldn't suppress a possessive growl. A deep need to fuck my mate hard washed over me, making me rub my rock hard cock along her squirming pussy. I hovered my face directly above hers, gazing strongly into her eyes with my blackened ones. I growled into her mind. Her panting and moaning were the only replies I got for a while. Her reluctant, yet anticipating barely discernible in my mind. I smiled triumphantly and started kissing and nibbling my way up to her mouth. I replied mentally and kissed her slow and deep. Our tongues danced in our mouths and her soft moans reached my ears. The scent of her arousal was very strong, and I inhaled deeply, reveling in it. (A very hard) part of me was tempted to just let her wrap her legs around me and give in to our lust, but I had something else in mind. Breaking our kiss I released her hands and legs, and shifted my weight slightly so she had a little room to move. I could tell she was very tempted to let her hands roam over me, but she lay still, her hands still above her head, looking into my eyes with lustful expectation. "Roll over," I instructed her. The little minx made an effort to let her breasts and ass touch as much of my body as possible while obeying my request. She rolled over, very slowly, and I couldn't suppress a groan as her ass slid oh so sexily against my cock. It was rock hard from teasing her, and no doubt she knew through our bond how much I wanted to just ram it inside her. I groaned when she finally came to rest on her belly, my cock comfortably nestled in the crack of her ass. To my intense satisfaction she raised her hands above her head without me asking to. She subtly gyrated her ass on my cock to try and entice me, but by sheer force of will I managed to ignore her. I bent over, placing my hands next to her face and holding her neck between my jaws, growling softly to remind her to behave. Cyrea's lust spiked and she moaned hoarsely, but quickly stopped her gyrating. I could feel she was getting off immensely at me dominating her. When I was still human I could tell she liked it, but I couldn't possibly restrict her physically. Now, with my demonic strength the roles were reversed. She was at my mercy. And she knew it. I growled into her mind, still holding her neck with my jaws. Cyrea's breath rushed out in a lusty moan and she tried to wiggle her legs apart while having the weight of my body bear down on her. She succeeded and with a hungry whimper she desperately tried to arch her ass into my twitching cock, but had too little wiggling room to succeed. I released her neck from my jaws and moved my mouth close to her ear, rubbing my chest slowly along her back. "I bested you in combat, my love..." I growled lowly into her ear, drawing a horny pur from my mate. "I have proven to be a powerful mate for you..." I continued, making Cyrea moan and grind that sexy ass into my rock hard cock. "Time for my reward..." I added with a hot lick along her scar. "Yessss!" Cyrea moaned desperately. "Oh yes, Dante! Take me!" she hissed, urgently pushing her ass up into me, like a cat in heat. I blindly located her pussy with my cock and slowly pushed the wide head inside, making my sweaty mate groan in delight. "Ohhhh, yessss..." she cooed while I entered her dripping pussy inch by excruciating inch. Cyrea let out a long, hot moan and her pussy muscles almost seemed to pull my cock further into her pussy. I groaned in delicious pleasure, feeling her wet warmth envelop me so exquisitely. Soon, her sexy ass bumped into my stomach and I bottomed out in my hot mate. I settled into an excruciatingly slow rhythm of fucking Cyrea, drawing the hottest moans and groans from those luscious lips of hers. A devilish grin grew on my face. "Tilt your ass towards me," I ordered her in a low growl. She did so without delay, and let out a gasp that ended in a deep, lusty moan. The way I was thrusting into Cyrea, made my cock glide directly over her g-spot. Over and over. Cyrea bucked hard and started panting loudly, and without warning flowed into an intense orgasm. I did not relent, and kept thrusting into her spasming pussy, my cock continuously caressing her g-spot. She rode out her orgasm on my cock and her moans started becoming frantic. "Yes! YES!" she shouted, screaming as she toppled into another, fiercer orgasm. Her pussy grasped my cock so fucking tight, I growled my pleasure into her ear, not being able to keep this up much longer. Cyrea kept bucking and writhing underneath me, still being pushed down to the ground by my body. Not being able to move freely, and being forced to endure all this pleasure, made her lust skyrocket. Feeling that through our bond almost made me blow my load inside of her. I could not endure this torrent of pleasure any longer and with a growl I bit down hard on her throat, letting her delicious, endorphin laden blood flood my mouth while my seed filled her twitching pussy. I felt Cyrea go completely rigid beneath me, tensing up every muscle in her body as my bite drove her into her most intense orgasm ever. I felt hers through our bond, and growled from its intensity, keeping up my thrusting in her spasming pussy to draw out her sexual high as long as possible. Cyrea's legs started shaking from the sheer overload of pleasure and I released her hands, and rolled off her, drawing her into a sweaty embrace. Her eyes were still rolled back into her skull and her breath came out as shaky sighs, along with the occasional moan. I pulled my glorious mate close to me and placed a kiss on her sweaty forehead. After a while, she leaned into my embrace, letting out a big sigh. "Wow..." she whispered breathlessly. "Oh.... Wow... Just... Oh, fuck... Wow..." Cyrea mumbled, not being able to form coherent sentences after her intense orgasms. I chuckled. I asked her mentally, figuring she'd have less issues forming mental words. Cyrea immediately clamped my head in her arms, pulling me towards her for a hot, wet kiss. she moaned in my mind. I grinned into her kiss, deeply flattered by her compliment. she added, purring and cooing into my mouth while her tongue sought out mine. I broke the kiss, still smiling, and gazed into her deep blue eyes. I felt and saw her love for me, and made sure she felt my corresponding love for her through our bond. Wiping her sweaty hair from her face, I whispered softly, "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, my wonderful Cyrea. I cannot imagine my life without you, and am thoroughly enjoying spending the rest of eternity with you." Cyrea beamed at me with the most reverent, loving look on her face. "It's mutual..." she whispered, tears coming to her eyes. Cyrea rested her head on my chest, still purring delightedly. I let my head fall back and stared at the blanket of stars covering us in the night sky. What a week this has been... What a week indeed.

***Dante*** 'How embarrassing,' I thought. 'Never in my life have I been vain...' It was almost like I couldn't help it - I just could not stop staring at my wings. Never in my wildest dreams did I entertain the possibility of sprouting wings. 'Attempting a one-in-million thing like trying to win the lottery, sure, why not. Or fearing plane will crash, out of all of the planes in the sky? Oh yes, definitely possible,' I mused. 'But having wings? Nah, never...' With a big grin on my face I yet again flexed them, marveling at the musculature of my new anatomy. They were absolutely huge, nearly dragging across the floor when I folded them behind my back. At first I thought they were black, but upon better inspection I decided that they were a very deep shade of brown, depending on the lighting. They were covered in rock hard, yet amazingly flexible pointy scales and had claw-like appendages at the top. I also figured out how to fold them inwards into my body to make them disappear, but as I stared in the mirror, they were out on display and I marveled at them. Cyrea poked her head around the bedroom door and smiled at my wonder and joy regarding my recently developed anatomy. I caught her eye with mine through the mirror and saw her giggle at my enthusiasm. I grinned and within the blink of an eye I turned around to dash towards her. She reacted quickly and bolted away, but wasn't fast enough to escape me. I grabbed her in the hallway and pressed her back against the wall. "Are you making fun of me, my mate?" I asked her with a low growl and a big grin. I felt her etheric tail wrap itself around my leg while Cyrea giggled her reply. "No, I would never do that! In fact, I find you very charming," she smiled, tracing her fingers along my jawline. I slowly lifted and stretched my wings, let my eyes bleed to black and showed her my fangs. I let out a low, intimidating growl and felt her shudder against me. Her desire for me sparked through our bond. I asked my mate, seeing her eyes darken with desire. Cyrea lightly shook her head. "Magnificent..." she whispered and shifted against me, rubbing her breasts against me. I could smell the beginnings of her arousal and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. Cyrea looked me in my eyes, desire clearly showing in them. "Feed me, Dante... I burned a lot of energy during our fight." I smiled, "But of course, my love." and leaned in for a kiss. I stretched my wings to touch and frame the wall, creating our own private little space, enclosing the both of us. My thick blanket of wings drowned out nearly all light, though I could see her face clearly in the dark. Cyrea broke the kiss and looked around us, a smile appearing on her face. "How charming," she mused, delighted. I chuckled at her, "You do have interesting definitions of the word 'charming', my love." She just stuck her tongue out at me. I moved in to suck it and pulled her back into a kiss. Cyrea cooed and draped her arms across my shoulders. Her fingers explored my upper back, gently stroking the area where my wings had sprouted. It felt oddly ticklish to have someone caress that new body part. Cyrea told me, still stroking the base of my wings. She purred as she broke the kiss and leaned in to lick across the scar of her claiming bite. I groaned at the sensation and lifted her up against the wall. My wonderful mate eagerly wrapped her legs around me and rubbed her soaking wet pussy on my cock oh so sexily. I could feel her wet pussy lips sliding along my shaft, creating delicious friction. Sometimes her breath would hitch and she would twitch. I grinned - knowing that's when the head of my cock rubbed over her clit. By now, the scent of her arousal had permeated our private little hiding place, fuelling my desire for her as she kept rubbing her pussy on my sensitive cock and tonguing the scar, slowly making me succumb to her. The little minx knew my scar was just as sensitive as hers, and she elongated her fangs to slowly graze the delicate skin with her sharp teeth. A deep groan escaped me and my cock twitched in response. I felt her lips bulge into a smile against my throat. Cyrea asked me with a devilish grin. She wiggled until my cock was at the entrance of her pussy. My devious mate then slowly pushed her fangs into the scar. Damn! That felt good! I moaned deeply and entered her dripping pussy in one thrust, stretching her wide and causing her to moan loudly. she moaned and eagerly met my thrust with her own. I grinned at the compliment and moved in and out of her with long, slow strokes, savoring the feel of her mouth on my throat. Cyrea was moaning her delight while still kissing and nibbling the scar of her bite. I then felt her fangs sink deeper in my throat and nick my jugular vein. Damn! That felt even better! I nearly blew my load right then and there. With a groan I started thrusting into her hard and fast, increasing that wonderful friction between us. Cyrea moaned deeply and bit down even harder on my throat. I felt her throat muscles move as she swallowed my blood and I completely lost it. Having my mate drink from me was one of the most erotic experiences I ever had and I couldn't stop groaning. Panting hard I moved my mouth across her throat and thrust into her even harder. We were both on the verge of cumming and Cyrea started mewling desperately when my lips touched the scar on her throat. Growling, I latched onto her throat and let my fangs sink deep into her jugular vein. Cyrea clamped down her jaw on my throat and went rigid in my arms, her orgasm overtaking her. The taste of her blood on my tongue toppled me over and I sprayed her insides with my cum. Having her drink from me was so erotic that I kept cumming and cumming, my cock twitching hard inside her pussy as I felt her muscle spasms gripping it. I took her face in my hands and looked into her eyes, still panting. Cyrea had fed very well from me and wore that corresponding blissful look on her face. I whispered, unable to form the words with my mouth. Her face split into a huge smile and I couldn't resist placing a small kiss on her cheek. Cyrea replied with a wink. I laughed, Giving Cyrea a last kiss, I folded my wings back and untangled myself from her legs and tail. After giving my eyes a moment to adjust to the light, I looked out of the small window in the corridor and realized it was already light outside. An idea came to mind. "You know what? How about we pay Alexis a visit today? We've been too preoccupied with each other for far too long now. We haven't seen him since he fed me his blood and I'd really like to know how he's doing," I proposed to Cyrea. A grand smile appeared on her face. "Yes, let's! We'll have to buy him a year's supply of liquorice as a thank you present, though," she chirped. I laughed, figuring he would definitely appreciate that. My gaze drifted when I thought of Alexis. I silently thanked my lucky stars for his friendship. He was a good man, and I was not surprised I kind of missed his presence. That, and the waft of liquorice that followed him. "Sure, why not. Let's shower first, though," I stated. Cyrea rubbed her face on my chest, grumbling. "But I like having your scent all over me," she pouted, her voice muffled by my chest. I laughed and scooped her up, walking us towards the shower. "So do I, my love, but when you're visiting friends it's considered polite to smell of sex. Humans call it 'social etiquette'," I replied. Cyrea shrugged in my arms, picking at a bit of dried cum on her legs. "Alexis won't mind... In fact, I think he'll be thrilled," she mused with a devilish grin. I laughed and set her down on the bathroom floor, turning on the shower. "I'm sure he will," I admitted, imagining that typical grin of his if we were to meet him unbathed. Confirming that the water was nice and warm, I gently pushed Cyrea into the shower. "Go on, get cleaned up and I'll see if I own something you could wear," I suggested. I turned around to exit the bathroom and heard an indignant Cyrea call out to me. "Wait, you're not going to join me in the shower?!" I grinned while I made my way back to the bedroom. Her lack of reply made me chuckle. 'I guess she saw some wisdom in that,' I figured. While Cyrea showered I checked my wardrobe for something she could possibly wear. Her own clothes got tattered and ripped when I took her home all those days ago. The only option for her to leave the factory clothed, was to wear some of mine. However, I was taller and broader than Cyrea was, so all the clothes I owned would probably not fit her. I sighed and sifted through my wardrobe again, but couldn't find anything appropriate for her. Frustrated, I stared at my closet when I felt Cyrea approach. The moment she entered the bedroom, the scent of soap mixed in perfectly with her own scent and I held her close to smell her neck. Seeing my inability to produce anything wearable for her, she shooed me out of the bedroom, saying she'd figure something out while it was my turn to shower. While I truthfully didn't mind having the scent of Cyrea and sex all over me either, the shower was very refreshing. Drying my hair I wandered back into the bedroom, only to suppress a lustful growl at what my hungry eyes saw there. Cyrea had taken one of my black dress shirts, rolled up the sleeves to her elbows, took a thin belt and tied it at her waist, effectively turning the shirt into a makeshift dress. A very short dress. It stretched tightly across her breasts and barely covered her ass. She left the top few buttons unbuttoned, displaying her ample bosom, and completed the outfit by digging up her heels she wore when I took her home. Her long, wet curls flowed down her back and she looked incredibly sexy. Unable to resist, I came up behind her as she scrutinized herself in the mirror and pressed my body into hers, my naked, rigid cock prodding her ass. "You look delicious," I complimented her, sliding my arms around her waist and pulling her to me. Both our eyes shone with desire and I felt our lust swell through our bond yet again. With a sigh I released her and took a step back, closing my eyes to try and get a grip on my libido. I heard Cyrea turn around and approach me. When I opened my eyes I saw her kneeling in front of me, hungrily staring at my rock hard cock. "Just a little taste..." she whispered sexily while she leaned in and slowly swirled her tongue around the head of my cock. I groaned. Her tongue felt wonderful as it lazily drew circles around the head. "Cyrea... No... We can't, we have to visit Alexis," I weakly protested. Another groan escaped my lips when her tongue located my balls and carefully bathed them in her saliva. she whispered sultry while her mouth was occupied with nibbling its way up my shaft. Her lips stretched to engulf the head of my cock and I felt her suck it oh so gently. It was sensational. Her tongue glided over all the right spots and I could feel her teeth lightly graze me. I submitted to her ministrations with a lustful groan and brought my hands to her head, softly guiding her face on my cock. Her slow, gentle loving of my cock produced a steady stream of groans and moans from my mouth. The way she alternated by sucking the head, and licking my balls was mind blowing, and slowly she teased me into a euphoric state of lust. Her sucking and licking grew stronger as she bobbed her head up and down my cock. Slurping sounds mixed in with my moans and I felt her saliva dribble down my balls and fall to the ground. Her expert mouth quickly brought me to the edge and with a loud groan I emptied my balls into her eager mouth. She moaned, and hungrily drank all of my cum, making sure she sucked the last drop out of my cock. Satisfied with her reward, she cleaned me with her tongue to make sure no stray drop of cum stayed behind. Content that she got everything, she stood up and looked at me with a devilish grin. "There. You're still clean. No need to shower," she quipped smugly. I grabbed her and pulled her against me, kissing her hard. I complimented her as I tasted a lingering residue of my cum in her mouth. Cyrea purred as she gently bit my lower lip, breaking the kiss. "Now, get dressed already. You're delaying our visit to Alexis," she added with a playful wink and patted my naked ass. I laughed, and quickly put on a black shirt and some jeans. I frowned when I realized they barely fit me anymore after my transformation. Cyrea noticed too and came up behind me to stroke the muscles through my shirt. "Oh my... You've become too muscular for your clothes. What a luxury problem..." she mused mockingly as she squeezed my arms. "Oh well, we'll have to go shopping!" she added on a delighted note. "I could use some new dresses..." My little minx purred as she slid her body against mine. I groaned. I wasn't a big fan of shopping, and I quickly noticed that these pants became uncomfortable when I got an erection. "Alexis first," I groaned, gesturing to the door. "Let's go." While we descended the stairs into the factory hall I took a moment to look at the tremendous progress the club was making. The workers had done a fantastic job and a smile came to my face when I looked at the bar, which was nearly finished now. I had ordered it to be made out of solid mahogany and found a woodworker who carved the most stunning figures in it - angels and demons were depicted in various scenes, some erotic ones too, but tasteful nonetheless. Things were looking good on my end and I was anxious to hear about Alexis's endeavors regarding his quest to track down the Valkyrie. We stepped outside, letting the factory door fall closed behind us and I realized we didn't bring coats. Astonished, I noticed I didn't mind the cold. Embarrassed, I had to admit I didn't realize this new feat when Cyrea flew us to the desert. Naked. "Tell me, does being a demon come with an insensitivity to temperature change?" I asked my mate whilst marveling at the lack of goosebumps on my arms. She looked at me with a big smile. "Oh, it sure does..." she drawled. Her grin turned devilish and her etheric tail found its way up my leg once again. "Though I could always warm you up if you do manage to get cold..." Cyrea rubbed her body all over mine, wrapping her arms around my neck and leaning up to kiss me. I smiled into the kiss. What a sexy, wicked mate mine was. I warned my mate, when her etheric tail snaked its way up from my leg towards my crotch. I broke our kiss and gave her a stern look. Or at least, I tried to. She just looked at me with that sweet, devilish grin of hers and mumbled something in the lines of "Party pooper..." Cyrea then looped her arm in mine and we took off on a leisurely stroll towards the supermarket, enjoying the sunshine. Even though I had long gotten used to sensing demonic and angelic presences around me, my interest always peaked when an immortal came within range of my senses. When I felt both a demonic and an angelic presence in the back of an alley, my interest was doubly peaked, since it was not common to find that combination of immortals together. When we neared the alley I stretched my senses and identified the immortals as an incubus and an angel. This was definitely an odd combination. Yet it was the horrid scent of fear drifting out of the alley that made me clench my fists. I asked Cyrea to wait around the corner - I didn't trust this and wanted to investigate. My lovely mate simply rolled her eyes lovingly at me, mumbling something about protective instincts, but humored me nonetheless. I continued towards the alley alone where the scent of angelic fear became more pungent with each step. For some reason, the scent of this angel's fear angered me instantly and I felt a growl brewing in my chest. When I rounded the corner, I saw an incubus who was coming on strong to a clearly unwilling angel. The incubus had ripped off nearly all of his and the angel's clothes. His large cock was rock hard and he kept rubbing it against the angel's naked ass. He had pushed her headfirst to the wall and forcefully kept her pinned to it, yanking her long blonde hair as he kept prodding her ass with his cock. Delirious lust was pouring off of him in waves, yet it was the fear wafting off of the angel that instantly turned my anger into unbridled rage. I didn't stop to ponder my strong protectiveness towards this particular angel, or why her fear affected me so strongly, and ran up to the incubus, letting my power flow through me in preparation for a fight. It would be a cold day in hell before I allowed him to rape her. The incubus was completely clueless to my approach and manically kept mumbling to the angel how he was going to fuck her, his etheric tail tightly wrapped around one of the angel's breasts. The angel had keener perception though, and noticed my approach. Her azure blue eyes were filled with tears and freshly healed wounds were still vaguely visible on her cheeks and arms. Yet, despite her plight she tried to ward me off, urgently shaking her head at me with wide, fearful eyes. "He is stronger than he looks, mister... You cannot help me..." she squeaked with a shaky voice. "Please, go before he hurts you..." Confusion warred with anger in my mind. Instinctually I without a shred of doubt, that while an incubus could take out a human, the fucker was no match for me. No way he could defeat me in combat. So... did the angel know something I didn't? Regardless, I did not slow my approach, I was going to walk away from this. No fucking way! I was one step away from the incubus, who had managed to locate the angel's pussy with his cock when he finally noticed me. Irritated at being disturbed he turned his head to me. "Fuck off!" he snarled fiercely, spittle flying from his mouth and prepared to thrust his cock inside the sobbing angel. Not on my watch. I grabbed his shoulder and forcefully threw him backwards into the wall. He crashed into it with a painful roar and slumped to the ground, somewhat dazed. I moved to stand in front of the angel, shielding her from her attacker and keeping my eyes on the disoriented incubus. "Are you alright?" I asked her softly without turning around. A fearful sob sounded behind my back and I heard the rustling of clothes as she quickly put her dress back on. "Please, mister..." she begged. "Please leave before he gets up. He is more powerful than he looks, you are no match for him. He will hurt you!" she whispered urgently, feverishly pulling at my shoulder to try and get me to leave before the incubus regained his bearings. The angel's protective intentions were unfortunately lost on me - I stood fast, not letting this piece of trash go without showing him exactly what I thought of lowlife rapists like him. She was adamant though and kept tugging my shoulder. Suddenly she gasped loudly when she pulled at my t-shirt and saw Cyrea's markings peek out from underneath the fabric. The angel let go of my shoulder and stumbled backwards into the wall. The incubus had regained his bearings by now and I saw his etheric tail swipe menacingly around him. He roared his anger and charged at me. I didn't even bother to dodge his weak excuse of an attack and punched him square in the face. His battle roar ended in a painful whine as he clutched his broken nose, blood seeping out between his fingers. I marched over to him, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him hard into the wall. I let my eyes bleed to black and dug my claws in his neck. The incubus's eyes went wide and I slightly loosened my steel grip on his throat to hear him squeak, "...You're ...demon?" I growled menacingly at him, baring my sharp fangs at him and tightly squeezed his throat. The lust and anger that wafted off him seconds ago were replaced by the stench of pure fear. "This is the only warning you get," I hissed with a low growl, narrowing my eyes at him. "If I find you raping someone again, I will tear off your cock and make you eat it." I sunk my claws into his skin and felt his blood seep through my fingers. "Understand?" With my deathly grip on his throat he could neither nod nor talk, so I loosened my grip ever so slightly. "Y-yes..." he squeaked breathlessly. "Good," I growled, holding him a few seconds longer to make sure he fully understood my promise. When the stench of fear was becoming nauseating I released his throat and he fell to the floor. Without looking back he scurried to the exit of the alley, stumbling clumsily with his pants still around his ankles. I carefully watched him as he retreated out of sight with his tail between his legs, and turned to the frightened angel. Even though my eyes had lost their demonic coloring by the time I regained eye contact, she knew enough and hesitantly kept her distance from me, pressing herself against the wall behind her. She was silently watching me, her azure eyes wide in shock. Strange... Both the incubus and the angel seemed surprised to learn I was a demon. "You don't need to fear me. I won't harm you," I told her gently, raising my hands in a non-threatening gesture. The angel was still wary of me - it was easy to read from her body language. Not wanting to add to her stress, I merely told her, "My name is Dante. I live in the big factory around the corner. If you ever find yourself in trouble again, please come find me. I'll help you," I said softly, making her see the earnesty in my eyes. She gave me a shallow nod, which I reciprocated with a nod and a smile. Without making any sudden moves I slowly made my way towards the exit of the alley. Around the corner a very proud (and horny) Cyrea was waiting for me. She flowed into my arms and kissed me passionately. she purred in my mind. she said as her tail crept up my leg in search of my cock. I glanced towards the angelic presence in the alley and decided the poor thing had been around enough horny demons for one day. Cyrea followed my gaze towards the alley and silently understood, disentangling herself from me and taking my hand so we could continue our way. As we walked away, a soft "Thank you..." sounded behind me, making me smile. *** On our way to the supermarket we came across an old fashioned candy store - it had colorful letters on the windows and row after row of colorful candy lured visitors inside. Figuring this shop would definitely provide something tasty for our dear friend, Cyrea went in to buy some sweets for Alexis while I waited outside. I was still getting used to my heightened senses - I didn't even need to enter the shop and my nose was already itching from the overpowering scents of sugar, cinnamon and chocolate that wafted outside. Cyrea didn't mind gathering a selection of sweets on her own, though. She was fond of shopping, regardless of what was being bought. I spotted an empty bench across the street overlooking the nearby shopping area and sat down, waiting for Cyrea to finish. Man, I could still smell the sugar and cinnamon down here. I sighed and tried to focus on other things. Like the dead bugs stuck to the windshield of a taxi, all the way at the end of the street. I smirked when I marveled at how incredibly powerful my senses had become. Being a demon definitely had its perks. I closed my eyes. I felt him too, my inner demon. I knew he was supposed to be the mere manifestation of the sinful and/or violent part of me, but he felt like more than that - like a separate entity inside of me, with his own emotions and thoughts, guiding me in my actions. He was easily angered, quick to growl and horny as hell, but also very protective when the situation called for it. And powerful. powerful. I exhaled slowly, feeling the place inside my chest where all that power was centered. He was dormant now, but I knew I could delve into that deep pool of strength to transform my body and fight off any and all that would ever try to hurt me or Cyrea. I felt my demon stirr at that thought, and suppressed a growl. A wicked smile grew on my face. Nobody would ever harm Cyrea. Not while I was alive to stop them. Or rather, while were alive to stop them. I hadn't figured out how to talk to my demon just yet, but I knew we'd be a team to be reckoned with some day. Cyrea... My smile softened when I thought of her. I opened my eyes and glanced into Cyrea's general direction, sensing her inside the shop. Both my demonic and my human side had a deep, almost tangible love for that wonderful little succubus. My rational human side would argue that love between people needed to grow and prosper, that it could not simply exist in the blink of an eye. But, as Cyrea had explained earlier, "It's a soulmate thing..." Our souls were destined to find each other and would love each other unconditionally once they had met. Simple as that apparently. What was less simple, was that my soulmate happened to be a very attractive succubus, and that my human side had some residual issues with monogamy... I couldn't blame myself either though - for the vast majority of my existence I had been human and was raised with the noble notion of monogamy. And, while I was still coming to terms with the sheer futility of that while having a succubus as a mate, I was not quite there yet. My demon had no issues with that whatsoever though - Cyrea had been claimed, she bore the mark of my bite and of my soul, so it was fine. She could fuck whomever she wanted as far as my demon was concerned. I sighed. Finding a new internal balance was still a work in progress... Suddenly my attention peaked when I sensed a demonic presence nearby. My eyes searched for its source and quickly located her further down the street and walking towards me - it was a succubus. Her aura looked so much more intricate now that I was a demon, and I marveled at its beauty. Following her with my gaze, my demon stirred to life. The horny bastard had keenly noticed she was still unclaimed and wordlessly urged me to take her and claim her - having her bound to us would strengthen us even more, he reasoned. The human part of me was appalled by the thought and wouldn't dare to, not now I had Cyrea as my mate. These internal emotions went on and on while I tracked the succubus with my eyes. At one point she raised her head and looked around, as if she felt like she was being watched. Her eyes glazed over me, but she didn't pay me any attention. She shrugged it off and continued walking. I cocked my head in surprise and frowned. Did she just look at me and dismiss me as human? Just like the other two immortals earlier today? Did she not recognise the powerful demon that I had become? I was baffled, yet my demon practically roared in rapture. He urged me to take ruthless advantage of her inability to detect our true nature and lure her into the false security that she was seducing a human instead of a powerful demon. Again I was dumbfounded, I didn't realize my demon possessed such an evil streak. Thankfully my human side balanced it out quite well and kept my ass firmly seated on the bench. Still, it'd be best to keep a close watch on that. Cyrea asked me tentatively. Despite not being able to see her while she was still inside the shop, I automatically looked in her general direction before answering her. I replied, still baffled. My eyes sought out the succubus again and tracked her until she rounded a corner and she disappeared from sight. I turned my head and saw Cyrea exit the shop, carrying a large bag that was probably filled to the brim with liquorice. I crossed the street towards her and gave her a brief kiss. Cyrea looked at me with a sweet smile and cupped my face with her hand, rubbing my cheek with her thumb. "Demons are very different from humans, dear Dante." A troubled look marred her lovely face. "You will need to find a balance yourself. I'm afraid I cannot help you with this..." I gathered her in my arms and sought out her neck with my nose, grounding myself in her scent. "No worries, my love. I'll figure myself out. I was just surprised my demon had such an evil streak." I could feel Cyrea chuckle in my embrace. "Sinners aren't saints..." she mused, letting her etheric tail creep up my leg and lightly pet my cock. I laughed and placed a kiss on top of her crimson curls. "Let's go. We have a gift to deliver," I said, taking the (rather heavy) bag from Cyrea. Cyrea giggled, but then her eyes caught something behind me on the pavement, and in that instant I felt what her eyes must have seen - an angelic presence coming towards us. Several actually, but my senses hadn't developed enough yet for me to 'count' them. I turned around and saw five angels at the end of the street, striding towards us on the pavement. While Cyrea didn't appear to be alarmed or anything, she did pay close attention to the immortal clique, like a cat eyeing a dog in the distance. Frowning, I realized I had no clue regarding angel-demon etiquette. My mate answered without taking their eyes off the group, she continued with a slight frown, I followed her gaze and spotted the short angel Cyrea mentioned. Even from this distance, I could tell she walked with a confident stride, like she owned the city. Angels' eyesight must not be as good as that of a demon however, because it took an awfully long time for them to notice us. The short one finally saw us, or rather - locked eyes with Cyrea - whose hands were draped around my neck and her tail, as usual, securely wrapped around my leg. The angel seemed to completely ignore me however, and gasped dramatically - she actually clasped her hands in front of her mouth in disdain. She then huffed in disgust in our general direction, crossed the street and continued her way on the other side of the road, her unusually poofy ethereal wings bobbing with each step. The rest of her clique imitated her with slightly less fervor and followed the short one like sheep. They made a conscious effort to not notice us as they strode along their path, looking as high and mighty as they possibly could, especially the short - and, I decided, obnoxious - one. "Well... That happened..." I mumbled, not quite understanding which kind of strange angelic etiquette we had just witnessed and whether or not I should say or do something to defend Cyrea's honor against these strange angels. Turning to Cyrea I couldn't help but frown. A frustrated throaty groan escaped Cyrea's lips - she was just as baffled as I was and turned to me in reply, raising an eyebrow. That made me grin. I added with a smirk, That made Cyrea giggle. She looped her arm in mine and tugged me away. she replied. *** It turned out Alexis lived in the penthouse of one of the more prestigious apartment buildings in town. Usually reserved for the rich, successful and materialistic upper class, it seemed a strange place for an angel to reside. In their purity, they usually lived in more simple homes, away from unnecessary luxury. However, our angelic friend appeared to be a born sinner and had plenty of money to spend, so he happily indulged himself in opulent luxury. We entered the big glass revolving doors of the apartment building's reception and found ourselves in a large, bright hall with a white marbled floor. Tasteful artwork donned the walls and exotic plants lined the walls, leading up to the elevators on the left. Two muscular men in suits stood silently next to the elevators. They looked like bouncers, or guards. A large, curved solid wooden desk sat at the center of the reception area. It was polished so well you could almost see your reflection in it. We walked towards the desk and were greeted by a very attractive young woman sitting behind it. "Good morning, how may I help you?" she chirped, her gorgeous smile showing her perfect white teeth. "Good morning, Charlene," I read from her nametag. "We're here to visit our good friend Alexis. He lives in the penthouse." Charlene quickly checked her computer screen. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Porter has not informed reception that he will be receiving visitors today. We have a strict policy about only letting people through who have been confirmed as guests by our residents. Some of our residents lead high profile lives and appreciate their privacy, as I'm sure you will understand," she added with the most endearing smiles I've ever seen. Cyrea wasn't fazed and showed Charlene her bag filled with liquorice. "No, of course we didn't notify him - we came over for a surprise visit and even brought him his favorite candy. Could you perhaps call him to let us in?" Despite the knowing smile Charlene tried to hide at seeing the liquorice, she didn't budge. "I'm terribly sorry, but it's against our policy to call our residents for unannounced guest access." She folded her hands and looked at us with a smile that was both professionally polite, as well as to make it clear this was not up for discussion. It seems we were not getting in. I mentally asked Cyrea as I eyed the guards. My demon already knew I could take them on without a hitch, but my human side reasoned that it would not be a good idea if we'd want to visit Alexis in the future - social etiquette and all. I frowned and looked hopefully at Cyrea. My wicked mate just smirked and leaned over the reception desk, putting her ample bosom on display for Charlene to admire. I watched how Cyrea unfolded her etheric wings and stretched them over Charlene, shaking them ever so lightly. A tiny bit of the familiar sparkly dust fell down and I heard an almost inaudible gasp from Charlene when it was absorbed by her skin. "Awwww..." Cyrea pouted and idly stroked her throat, slowly tracing her fingers down to her cleavage. "Are you there isn't something you can do for us?" Charlene's eyes were hooded and her mouth hung slightly open, hypnotically tracking Cyrea's fingers making their way to her breasts. Charlene licked her lips and I felt her lust rising. "Charlene, sweety?" Cyrea pressed, scraping her fingernails across her covered nipples. Charlene held her breath and blindly reached over to a numeric keypad next to her computer. She hit a few keys and hit enter. Immediately one of the elevator doors opened with a . Cyrea's lips broke out in a huge smile and she leaned over to give Charlene a soft, lingering kiss. "Thank you..." Cyrea whispered after she broke the sensual kiss. Charlene moaned softly and closed her eyes. "You're welcome..." she replied hoarsely and licked her lips, savoring the kiss. We sauntered over to the elevators. I could feel Cyrea's satisfaction through our bond, which was mirrored by my demon - he was very proud of her inciting such lust in others. I complimented her, placing a kiss on the top of her head. she replied. she explained, practically wagging her etheric tail. We entered the elevator doors and while they softly closed we could hear Charlene call out to one of the muscular guards. "Uhm, Kurt? Could you come and ...uhh ...give me a hand over here?" I smirked - lust was dripping from her voice. Cyrea heard it too of course, and was quite pleased with herself. "Good for her," she said strongly. "I could tell that poor girl hadn't had sex in weeks. She desperately needs it." While the elevator doors closed and it started ascending I drew Cyrea close to me and kissed her deeply. I said, grinning in her mouth and rubbing my erection against her. Cyrea giggled through the kiss. she replied smugly, draping her arms around my neck. I broke the kiss and looked into her deep blue eyes. "Would you like to have joined them if the situation had allowed it?" I asked, curious about her answer. Cyrea looked at me cautiously, and keenly noted, "With your history of possessiveness, a better question would be whether would have liked me to..." I chuckled. Touché. She had a point there. I lifted my hand and touched the scar of my claiming bite on her throat. Rubbing over it I heard her sigh in delight. "You're mine. Now and always. As I am yours." I tucked away a curl behind her ear. "I that you love me, just as I love you. I feel it in my soul. Nothing can change that. I thought I'd have to get used to the idea of someone else being with you sexually, but after witnessing you tease just now, all I could feel was pride," I told her, gazing into her gorgeous eyes. A large smile shone on Cyrea's face - a smile I fondly reciprocated. "I was proud of you for seducing that woman so subtly, for rousing her desire, and it somehow feels wrong to hold you back in bringing her to completion. I understand that demons, and especially succubi, don't give a shit about monogamy. It's the human side of me that was raised with those values, but I understand that's not really an option with a succubus as a mate," I chuckled and kissed her deeply. The elevator its arrival at the top floor and the doors slowly slid open, revealing a narrow corridor with a marbled floor. At the end of it was Alexis's front door. I whispered, kissing my wonderful mate. Cyrea happily returned the kiss, putting all of her love into it. she stated matter-of-factly. Now this made me break the kiss and stare at her wide eyed. That was a thing? I thought my demon was just being overly horny when he urged me to claim that other succubus earlier today. I was still staring at Cyrea when the elevator doors slid to a close. She just smiled and pressed the button for the doors to open, ushering me into the corridor. "Claiming other succubi?" I managed to express. "What... Why?" I looked at her dumbfounded. Granted, the demonic part of me was again overly excited to claim more succubi, but my human side couldn't believe Cyrea - of all people! - suggested it. Cyrea merely looked at me with a surprised look on her face. "Well of course, silly!" she exclaimed. "The more succubi you claim, the more powerful you'll become. You already became very powerful after claiming me, and that will replicate after each succubus you claim." She kindly gave me a moment to digest, then continued. "Alexis briefly told me of your plans with your night club. If you want to defy both God and the Devil, you'll need all the power you can get." She looked at me earnestly. "You're serious!" I exclaimed, surprised, and a little louder than intended. Cyrea giggled sweetly. "It's fine my love. We are soulmates. What we share goes so much deeper than a regular bond between a Master and his succubus. I know I will always have a special place in your heart, regardless of any others you will claim. Besides, succubi to share, Dante. It's in our nature..." she added with a sexy wink. In my baffled state of mind I had failed to notice Alexis's presence approaching the door. He slowly opened it with an investigating look, but when he saw us in his corridor his face split into that customary grin of his. "Dante! Cyrea!" he called out in greeting, walking towards us with his arms open. "I was wondering what all the noise was. It's so good to see you again!" he called out to us. Seeing Alexis's grin on his face was a bigger relief than I could have imagined. He looked healthy, and it was good to see my friend had regained his strength. Temporarily forgetting the bomb Cyrea had just dropped on me, I walked up to him and hugged him in greeting, patting him on his back. "It's good to see you too, my friend," I mumbled into his shoulder. I could feel Alexis chuckle against my chest. "You've become strong, Dante. You're practically crushing me," he said, releasing me from his hug, still wearing that grin. Alexis paused and looked into my eyes. A frown slowly formed on his face. "Curious..." he mumbled. "I know Cyrea's soul merged with yours, I saw your markings, but I still cannot see your soul..." He craned his neck forward, bringing his face a mere two inches from mine and squinted his eyes. He kept looking deeply into mine and stayed like that for several long lasting, awkward seconds. "Nope. Nothing... Not even a demonic aura or scent on you. How remarkable! If I didn't know any better I'd swear you were still fully human," he chirped, delighted. Alexis stood pondering, when his eyes glided to Cyrea and a warm smile came to his face. "Cyrea! My apologies for not welcoming you!" Alexis lifted his arms to greet Cyrea with a hug, but suddenly halted and looked at me to see my reaction. Cyrea giggled and enclosed herself in his arms. "Oh, he's fine with it," she smiled, winking at me. Alexis hugged Cyrea tightly and placed a fond kiss on top of her head. "I'm sorry my dear, but that mate of yours distracted me for a moment. Please, come in!" he gestured, leading the way into his apartment. Cyrea giggled and mumbled something in the lines of me distracting her often as well. Upon entering Alexis's apartment we were greeted by an amazing view of the city. Large panes of glass took up the entire southern side of the apartment, letting the sun shine in with abundance and providing us with a spectacular view of the city skyline. "Wow! You can even see the desert from up here!" Cyrea marveled and ran up towards the glass to gawk at the view. I handed over the bag of sweets to Alexis. "We got you a thank you present for helping us out during my transformation," I said, inclining my head as a way of saying thanks. Alexis returned my nod with a smile, took the bag and looked inside. His face shone like he had just won the lottery. "Very sweet of you. Thanks!" He opened a bag and dove right in as he went into the kitchen to grab a bowl for the liquorice. I followed him while Cyrea was still cooing at the view. Alexis started opening and closing kitchen cabinets, looking for a bowl large enough to fit all of the liquorice. "Just because I cannot see your soul or aura, doesn't mean nothing happened, right?" he asked curiously, briefly peeking from a cabinet while still rummaging around for a bowl. I leaned on the bar that was attached to his kitchen and grinned. "Oh, I transformed all right. I'd say I'm a proper demon now," I replied with a chuckle. Alexis abruptly halted his search and stared at me with large eyes, an excited grin starting to form on his lips. "Really? Already?" he said breathlessly and turned around to face me - the elusive bowl being no longer of interest to him. I nodded, and his smile exploded on his face while his eyes scoured my body for demonic signs, but finding none. He sighed with impatient frustration and looked at me again. "Could you ...show me?" I laughed at his eagerness. He looked like a small child who'd just been told Santa Claus was in the next room. "Sure," I chuckled and took off my shirt. Alexis arched an eyebrow in surprise. I grinned while focusing on the pool of power in my chest and slowly let it flow through me. I kept watching Alexis, feeling my eyes turn to black, knowing he could see my red irises. A soft gasp escaped his mouth as he stared back at me. I let more power flow through me and felt my claws beginning to extend. Closing my eyes I focused on unfurling my wings. I hadn't used them much, so this bit still required a bit more concentration to pull off. Within moments I felt the skin on my back bulge and burn slightly, and finally it split open for my wings to surface. I opened my eyes while I stretched them, being careful not to hit anything. I looked at Alexis and couldn't help but chuckle. He had dropped the bag of liquorice he was holding and stared at me with his mouth agape. His eyes kept going to and from my wings, claws and eyes. I felt Cyrea come up behind me and lifted my wing so she could duck underneath and join us. She smiled at what she saw and pressed herself against my side, leaning in to give my scar a quick lick. I looked at her and growled with a smile. Cyrea just looked at me with a pout. she mumbled. It seemed Alexis had awakened from his reverie. "I take it your bond is fully functional too," he chuckled as he guessed correctly at us having a private talk. I folded back my wings and let my body take on its human traits again. "Yes, it is. I'm sorry about that. We'll try not to talk privately when we're around you. It's not polite," I responded while I put my shirt back on. "Oh, don't you worry about it!" he laughed, waving his hands dismissively. "I'm just immensely relieved that you're both fine. And Dante! You came out of this very well! well! I am thoroughly impressed! The wings are a pleasant surprise," he laughed, pointing towards my back with a bit of liquorice. "That happened after I left?" he guessed. Cyrea was quick to answer him. "Yes! They sprouted during our battle!" she quipped, bouncing up and down in excitement - the memory of our battle putting her in high spirits. Poor Alexis... Again his mouth fell open in amazement. "You battled?" he squeaked. Cyrea eagerly nodded and I just smiled in confirmation. My mate began recounting our battle to Alexis in a very animated way, making all kinds of hand gestures, claw sweeps and swooshing sounds for dramatic effect. I had to say, my succubus was an excellent storyteller and she had Alexis hanging at her lips. He was drinking it all in, empathizing with "ooph"-s and "ouch"-es at the painful bits. He even roared when Cyrea described the moment my wings sprouted. As entertaining and immersive Cyrea's story was, I did feel the need to stop her when she started recounting about how gloriously I dominated her sexually after the battle. No need for Alexis to hear that happened... Alexis chuckled and looked at me proudly, the disbelief no longer present on his face. "You know, Dante, the day we met in the supermarket you immediately intrigued me. I was curious about you, despite not really trusting the fact that you could see my aura." His customary grin reappeared on his face. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt that day, and look at you now! At us! We've come so far already! The first steps in defying the deities have been taken," he declared strongly. Suddenly, his smile faltered and I saw him suppressing a sigh. "I've been meaning to tell you, but so far I've had zero luck with finding a good candidate to travel to Hell to find the Valkyrie... we would know where to look for her in the first place - it seems that sorceress has gone through extensive effort to hide herself..." He sighed anyway and resorted to picking up the liquorice he dropped earlier. "I'm sorry I couldn't be the bearer of better news... I wanted to tell you when I came over just after you had claimed Cyrea and, well, this is the first time we've spoken since..." he mumbled. I bent down to help him gather the strewn about candy when I heard an ever so soft "Oh..." coming from behind me. Alexis didn't seem to notice and was nibbling off a bit of candy that had stuck to the palm of his hand. I peeked behind me to see a blushing Cyrea with an abnormally high heart beat to go with the drama that was the spilled candy on the floor. With a few efficient swipes all the candy was stowed back in the bag and I stood up to look at my mate with a slight frown on my face - she seemed nervous or ...caught? "What's wrong?" I asked her, watching her cheeks burn brighter. "I've been meaning to tell you something..." she began with a nervous smile, her eyes shifting between evading my glance, then Alexis's, "It's just that so much happened since Dante's transformation, and we've been a bit preoccupied lately, and..." she drawled, grabbing a lock of hair and fidgeting with it. My frown deepened at hearing this textbook prelude to a confession, and judging by her nervousness I wasn't sure if I was going to like it. My fidgeting mate cleared her throat. "I uhm... I seem to have developed a new ability since Dante claimed me... I can Dream Walk now..." she mumbled. It was a good thing the bag of liquorice sat safely on the top of the counter, because judging from Alexis's reaction, no doubt the bag would have succumbed to gravity again - he was utterly stunned. I, on the other hand, was utterly confused. "Come again?" I asked. Cyrea turned to me with that adorable, yet guilty-looking blush on her cheeks. "Well, since we mated I can do things in my dreams. I can go and visit places or people - I mean, I'm there when that happens - I can touch, interact, feel, everything during those dreams," she tried to explain, looking at me with a shy look on her face. Now I fully understood Alexis's surprised reaction - my eyebrows were well on their way to reaching my hairline upon hearing this equally surprising and amazing news. "It happened somewhat by accident the first few times, and I haven't really mastered it yet, but uhm... Yes, I can Dream Walk," she concluded with a small, yet proud smile. I chuckled in astonishment and gathered Cyrea in my embrace, holding her tightly and placing a loving kiss on her hair. "I didn't know you could do this, my love. I'm impressed!" I told her, letting my fingers slide through her hair. Cyrea snuggled her head against my chest, her heartbeat calming down in my embrace. My mate giggled. "I didn't know either... Eir said that it was your soul that gave me this ability after you claimed me," she mumbled against my chest. I placed another kiss upon her hair. "Who's Eir?" I wondered. Cyrea's heartbeat shot up again and I felt her cheeks burn against my chest. "Yes... Well... That's what I forgot to tell you ever since it happened... When I visited her, Eir called herself the Valkyrie. I've uhh... I ended up chatting with her, and she was actually rather interested in meeting you, Dante," Cyrea mumbled and cautiously glanced up at me. My surprised gasp mixed in with a rather loud chuckle. "You forgot to tell me? Us? You forgot to tell us you happened to have talked to the one person we desperately need for this deviant plan of ours and that she was interested in meeting me?" I grinned, watching Cyrea's cheeks burn red hot. My embarrassed mate whined softly and poked my skin with her fingers. "Yes, well, at first I wasn't even sure you would survive your transformation at all, and afterwards have been rather diligently distracting me, Dante! So, like I said - we've been ...preoccupied lately,' she mumbled, resting her forehead against my chest with a thump, barring us from seeing her embarrassed blush. My loud laughter made Cyrea's head shake against my chest. I turned her face towards mine and smothered my final chuckle in our kiss. I told her privately, my smile widening as I felt my mate giggle into our kiss. Cyrea grinned her reply mentally. The rhythmic sounds of pacing footsteps and accompanying chewing sounds reached my ears. I broke the kiss with my still blushing mate and looked over to see Alexis pace his kitchen, deep in thought. A long piece of liquorice was lodged between his lips, wagging from side to side like a dog's tail as he played with it using his tongue. "Dream Walking is such a rare gift... So rare..." he mumbled, avidly sucking on the candy, "And so incredibly convenient..." Alexis halted mid-step, yanked the piece of liquorice out of his mouth and pointed it at us - the wet bit had lost most of its rigidity and sagged down significantly, wobbling as Alexis fiercely shook the candy in our direction. "This is destiny's doing, my friends!" he said strongly, pointing the candy at us with ferocity, its soggy ending flapping all over the place. "We are on the right path!" The wet, mushy bit of the liquorice was deftly returned to Alexis's tongue as he continued pacing, his frown focused, his eyes darting all over the place. After a few steps he once again removed the candy from his mouth. "We'll need to get in contact with her again and try to arrange some sort of meeting," he said and looked intently at Cyrea and pointed the floppy candy at her, "And by I mean . Do you think you can reach out to her again during your dreams?" he asked, shoving the entire thing in his mouth and began munching on it with great gusto. Cyrea disentangled herself from my embrace. She looked unsure, though determined. "I hope... Both times when I saw her in my dreams I didn't willingly visit her. It just ...happened. But, I'll do my best. I'm sure I'll figure out how to reach her," she stated. I couldn't help but pull Cyrea close to me. What a wonderful mate she was, and how convenient that she developed this ability after our mating - it was exactly what we needed. I was slowly starting to believe in destiny... *** We stayed at Alexis's for a while, catching up, discussing Cyrea's Dream Walking activities and devising the best ways to convince the Valkyrie to come to Earth. It started getting dark outside and Alexis's stomach was growling, so we excused ourselves, leaving him to prepare his dinner. We said our goodbyes at his front door and entered the little hallway to take the elevator down. When Alexis's front door closed behind us I let out a relieved sigh and looked at my gorgeous mate. I still found it unbelievable how my life had changed over these past few weeks. I'd only been mated to Cyrea for two weeks or so, but I could not imagine my life being any other way. I smiled at her and pulled her close for a deep kiss while we waited for the elevator to arrive. Cyrea gave in to the kiss and draped her arms across my neck. she purred, raking her tongue along my teeth. I smiled into the kiss. Cyrea cooed and hugged me closer, rubbing her body against mine. I listened to the elevator approach and my interest peaked when I felt a somewhat familiar presence inside of it. I think it was Layla - the succubus I met during my first talk with Alexis in the park. I was still human back then. Damn, it felt like such a long time ago. The doors open and presented us with a freshly fucked Layla. She had finished adjusting her short skintight dress and began combing through her wavy, brown hair with her fingers as she appeared in our view. The smell of sex was easy for my sensitive nose to pick up and I recognised the scent of one of the doormen on her. Her brown eyes glided to mine and her luscious lips turned into a lecherous smile when she recognized me. I felt her lust beginning to rekindle when she must have remembered my promise to fuck her next time we'd meet. Before I had a chance to say anything, Cyrea squealed and bounced into the elevator, hugging Layla closely. "Layla! It's been too long!" my mate cheered and hugged the other succubus close, engaging her mouth in a hot, wet kiss. Layla greeted Cyrea with an excited moan, muffled by Cyrea's lips, their etheric tails curling around each other. Their hands glided over each other's curves and the sounds of happy mewling and wet kissing filled the elevator. The ladies seemed to have forgotten all about me, but I couldn't care less. I just stood there in the hallway with a shit eating grin on my face. What. A. View. The elevator doors started closing, snapping me out of my reverie. I quickly entered the elevator and was utterly content leaning back against the wall and enjoying watching the two succubi reacquaint themselves in a very intimate way. My demon had woken up and was avidly watching the scene in front of me, paying special attention to the unclaimed succubus. Cyrea broke the kiss and with a big smile on her face she asked Layla, "Sister, it has been too long! I am so happy to see you. How long have you been on Earth?" Layla still held Cyrea close, and answered her with a corresponding smile. "Oh, I can't remember exactly, but man, I wish I managed to come here sooner. This place is fucking amazing! Feeding from humans is so much easier than feeding from demons." Her smile turned lecherous. "And feeding from angels is the best! Their lust tastes so fucking good!" This woman just seemed to blurt out whatever was on her mind with no reservations whatsoever. Cyrea started giggling. "I know!" she replied, all giddy. They were like two schoolgirls comparing which boy in their class was the best kisser. Cyrea leaned in to Layla, close to her ear. "But I'll let you in on a little secret," she whispered to Layla, clearly looking at me. " lust is even better..." Layla's brown eyes once again found mine and she slowly eyed me over. "Mmmm... I managed to get a small sip of that the last time we met," she replied, seductively stepping over to me. "...and it was delicious," she remembered with a purr. Layla walked up to me and draped her arms across my neck. With a soft purr she pressed her breasts into my chest, letting me feel her hard nipples. Her etheric tail had released Cyrea's and was now creeping up my leg towards my crotch. I eyed Cyrea, raising a questioning eyebrow, unsure of this turn of events. She just wore the most devilish grin, her eyes slowly darkening with desire. she seductively whispered in my mind. she added with a wink when she felt my demon stir through our bond. Layla felt my lust rise too - along with an eager body part - and cooed while she rubbed her body all over mine. "Your lust is so tasty... I can't believe you're human..." she sighed barely audible while her hands traveled along my chest, squeezing and scratching all the muscles she could find. If I still human, I wouldn't have been able to hear that remark. But I'm not, and I did hear. And so did my demon. He roared in delight. I just chuckled. Layla also could not detect I was a demon? Oh, she was in for a ride. Layla's hands approvingly squeezed my arms and her etheric tail had located my hard cock. With a longful sigh she started stroking my rigid member with her tail, causing a very subtle tingly feeling in my cock. Her hands explored their way up to my jaw and she froze when she traced the scar of Cyrea's claiming bite in my neck. Layla took half a step back to look into my grinning face. "Is... this..." she stuttered, confusion marring her beautiful face. The poor succubus never managed to finish her question because I stepped forward, pinning her to the elevator wall with my body. I held my face in front of hers, staring deep into her brown eyes as I let mine turn black, my red irises reflecting in hers. I opened my mouth and lifted my upper lip, growling and exposing my fangs that glinted in the artificial light of the elevator. Her eyes dropped to my fangs and I felt her shudder. Layla felt my demonic power flowing through me and started panting with desire. "You're a demon..." she whispered, still unbelieving. I could feel her lust surge sharply and her eyes were darkening. Suddenly the elevator jolted and descended, making me growl at the impending interruption. Layla reached over to a numeric keypad next to the door and punched in some numbers. The elevator soon stopped and its doors opened with a . In front of us was a narrow hallway, similar to that of Alexis. Layla hoarsely panted, "This apartment's mine. Please, let's go inside." Layla was positively panting with desire, writhing that delicious body of hers all over me. I glanced at Cyrea and saw that she was just as horny. My mate stared deep into my eyes and I felt her intent through our bond before she whispered it to me, she urged me. I felt my demon roar and a soft growl escaped me - he was looking forward to that. Layla felt my demon close and moaned softly. I cast my gaze back at this sexy, brown haired succubus that I still kept pinned against the elevator wall, and tipped her face up so I could stare hard into her lust filled eyes. Layla looked expectantly into mine and licked her lips. "If I go inside with you, I will fuck you, and I will make you cum," I told her in a low voice. Layla moaned hoarsely and her eyes slid closed while she licked her lips. "Look at me," I demanded. My demon was urging me to take her right there and then, but I wanted her to make the decision. Layla cast her eyes back up at me, desire radiating off them. "If I go in with you, I will claim you," I said, staring deep into her eyes, making sure she could see the promise in mine. A deep moan resonated from her chest and her eyes slid closed again. She was urgently rubbing her pussy over my clothed cock and the perfume of her arousal permeated the entire elevator. The door started sliding closed, but her hand shot out to keep it open. She opened her eyes and looked at me, her lust clearly visible. Layla grinned wickedly, tracing a finger along my scar. "You can try..." she replied hoarsely and slid out from under me, sexily strutting towards her front door. My eyes followed Layla with a hungry stare. My demon demanded that I claim this succubus who had just challenged me. A wicked grin slowly formed on my face, watching that delicious ass of hers walk away from me - I was going to do just that. A throaty moan to my side snapped me out of my lewd daydream and I looked over to see a very horny Cyrea looking at me through hooded eyes. I stepped over to her and lifted her up against the elevator wall, kissing her passionately. She moaned in delight and immediately wrapped her legs around my waist, rubbing her pussy all over my clothed cock. she spoke in my mind, moaning desperately. I slid my hand underneath her makeshift dress, locating her soaking wet pussy and immediately thrust three fingers inside. Cyrea bucked and moaned loudly in relief, humping my fingers and kissing me hard. My thumb found her clit and started rubbing it. Quickly, her moaning and humping became more erratic. she whispered urgently and screamed out loud when she came all over my fingers, her claws ripping through my shirt and digging into my back. She came , her pussy muscles gripping my fingers like a vice, squeezing and releasing them over and over throughout her orgasm. Slowly she started coming down from her high, her juices dripping down my hand and wrist. The elevator door once again attempted to close, but Cyrea's hand shot out to stop it. She glanced at Layla who was panting hard and was pinching a nipple while enjoying the scene in front of her. Cyrea smiled at her and returned her blue eyes to mine. "Go..." she panted. "Go and claim her, my love. I'll go home and wait for you there. This moment is for the two of you." She leaned in and placed a loving kiss on my lips. "There will be plenty of times where we can share you," she added with a wink. Cyrea ushered me out of the elevator without further ado and pressed the button for the ground floor, waving at us as the doors slid to a close. I felt her presence descend until she was out of reach. A scent filled my lungs - Layla's arousal. It was strong and I could easily smell it from across the narrow hallway. I slowly turned around to face her and couldn't suppress a hungry growl at the sight in front of me. Layla stood there, leaning back against the wall next to her front door, eyes narrowed to slits and panting hard. One hand was avidly pinching a nipple and the other was quickly sliding in and out of her very wet pussy. My eager eyes roamed across this delicious sight in front of me and internally my demon roared in delight at seeing this wanton succubus, impatiently pushing me to claim her. I stepped over to her and pressed my body against hers, my clothed rock hard cock bumping against the hand in her pussy. Her mouthwatering scent surrounded me so deliciously and I had to make a conscious effort not to rip away her hand and replace it with my cock. Sweat was dripping from my forehead trying to reign in my demon - the need to claim her was almost tangible. Layla saw my internal struggle and moaned. "Such a powerful demon..." she mumbled, her voice thick with desire. Layla extracted the hand from her pussy and used both her hands to undo my pants and free my cock. I ripped off the remainders of my shirt, kicked off my shoes and stepped out of my pants. A lusty groan spilled from my chest when I felt her warm hands on my rigid member, eagerly caressing and exploring it. Layla hummed in delight. "You're so big..." she panted. Within seconds she expertly managed to coax out a droplet of precum from my cock. Layla scooped it up with her finger and hungrily brought it to her lips, swirling her tongue oh so sexily around her digit as she licked it up. I closed my eyes and balled my fists, trying to hang on to my sanity. A deep moan resonated from her chest and her eyes rolled back into her head. "You taste sooo goooood!" she moaned. "Cyrea was right... This is so much better than an angel's..." My demon went crazy in my mind, eager to give her all the cum she craved, and more. Again, her finger traveled down towards my cock to extract another drop of cum, but I was having none of it. I lined up the head of my cock to her soaking wet pussy, making Layla moan desperately. "Last chance to back out... Or you will be ..." I promised her with a deep growl. Layla moaned deeply and I felt her tremble in glorious anticipation. She greedily let her eyes travel across my body, feeling my demon close at the surface. Her pussy muscles contracted against the head of my cock while it was impatiently waiting at its entrance. I growled, fighting to keep my demon under control. I ruthlessly had to suppress him now that I was so close to impaling this wanton succubus. My demon kept pushing and pulling at me, urging me to be let out. My self control was waning fast and I felt my demon surge through me as it almost took over. With my blackened eyes I stared hard into hers. I was still in control. Barely. Layla took my face into her hands and looked deep into my eyes. "I'm yours..." she whispered longingly. With a triumphant roar I entered her in a single thrust. Her pussy was soaking wet and I slid in effortlessly, drawing moans from the both of us as I slid in and out of her hard and fast. Her stretched pussy muscles squeezed my cock so deliciously - the feeling was sensational! Layla moaned loudly and screamed in delight. She met each powerful thrust eagerly, begging me to fuck her harder. Too soon, the urge to claim her was taking over my every thought. While seeded deeply inside of her, I grabbed her knees and pinned her spread eagled to the wall. Layla looked at me with lust filled eyes and started moaning deeply, "Ohhhh... Yesssss..." I started thrusting in and out of her deeper and harder. Her pussy muscles were clenching and unclenching my cock as her movement became more erratic. I leaned in to her ear, not relenting the deep thrusts and fast pace I kept up between her legs. Her moans started getting more desperate and I growled in her ear, "Cum for me..." Layla's eyes rolled back into her head and she bucked like crazy, her pussy muscles frantically milking me as she came hard on my cock. I held on for dear life, thrusting into her harder, drawing out her orgasms listening to her desperate moans. My mouth latched onto her neck, fangs easily sliding through her skin and piercing her jugular. The moment her warm blood flowed into my mouth it set off my own climax deep inside her womb, and I drank greedily from her. Her blood was delicious! The moment my seed hit her insides, I felt Layla's mouth on the unscarred side of my throat and her fangs pierced my skin. She bit down hard while flowing into another orgasm, her pussy milking my cock for all its delicious juices. It was glorious! I slowed down my thrusting into her spasming pussy, thoroughly enjoying her moans. Slowly but surely we came down from our highs and Layla was sexily dragging her tongue across my scar, her pussy occasionally twitching on my cock that was still embedded inside of her. Her satisfied mewls were music to my ears and the way she scratched her nails along my sweaty back was wonderful. She purred and cooed, wrapping her arms around me and sighing happily. Slowly I felt my power dwindle, my demon was satisfied and went dormant now that this wanton succubus was claimed. He and I were thoroughly pleased now that Layla carried the scar of our bite - it was a deep, strangely primal feeling of satisfaction to see the remains of my bite on her throat. I released her neck, licking her wound closed, still panting from the exertion. I looked into her lust hazed eyes and saw a delighted sparkle in them, one I couldn't help but reciprocate - she was mine, as I was hers. Withdrawing from her twitching pussy, I gently set her legs back on the ground, still supporting her because she was a little shaky. Deeply inhaling her delicious scent, I pulled her sweaty body close to mine, reveling in her closeness. I could feel her breasts press into my chest with each labored breath. "Ohhhh, that was ...' she panted and rested her warm cheek on my shoulder. I gently wiped away her hair that was tickling my chin and let my fingers glide through her soft wavy tresses. "Better than good, my sweet. You were phenomenal," I complimented her. Layla's cheek bulged into a smile against my skin and she tenderly caressed the scar of her bite on my throat as she lay peacefully purring against me in our sexual cooldown. Suddenly she veered up and looked into my eyes with a new, delighted twinkle in them, making her face light up with a grand smile. I instantly knew the cause of that twinkle in her beautiful brown eyes, for I felt it too - our bond was forming. With each passing heartbeat, each breath, I slowly felt more of her emotions blend with mine. They were too vague for me to recognize them at first, but judging by the look on her face, she was thrilled. Layla beamed at me with an overjoyed smile, which I fondly reciprocated and leant in for a soft kiss. My brown haired succubus mewled happily into the kiss, drawing it out and softly caressing my tongue with hers. When she finally removed her lips from mine, she let her head fall back to the wall and sighed. "I can feel you in my mind now..." she whispered with her eyes closed, a small smile on her lips. "Your delicious lust and your triumph at claiming me. And that wonderful power... Mmmm..." Layla was savoring my emotions, seemingly excited at having such a private bond with someone. After a while she opened her eyes and looked at mine, a slight hint of confusion in them. "Why do you care for me so much? We only met once before you claimed me..." I rested my forehead against hers, gazing deep in her eyes. "It's true, I don't know you, but I your soul. I know I can trust you." Layla swallowed. Smiling, I slid my hand through her brown, sweaty locks and gently pulled her into a soft kiss. I replied to her. Layla gasped at the novelty and intimacy of the message I sent her. I felt her intense joy surge through our bond and she fully gave in to the kiss, mewling softly. Slowly a new feeling simmered in my body, surfacing on my skin. It was a tingly, burning sensation that started in my chest and slowly crawled along my upper back and shoulders. I broke the kiss and curiously touched the skin on my shoulder, but felt nothing out of the ordinary. I looked at Layla in confusion, but she just cooed and wiggled her back against the wall with a large smile on her face. "I feel your soul marking me. I always wondered what that would feel like!" she chirped, delighted. Oh, right! The markings! Last time that happened I was unconscious... I looked at my shoulder - while I couldn't see all of what was happening on my back, I did see a tribal-like pattern that slowly seemed to burn onto my shoulder blades, spilling over to my chest. In tandem, the same thing happened to Layla. She also tried to bend and twist her shoulders to see her back, but wasn't very successful either. "I want to see in the mirror!" she beamed at me and bounced off into her apartment. I followed her, grinning like the Cheshire cat while I watched her naked ass jiggle. Upon entering her apartment, I was surprised by the bouquet of scents I could detect. Layla's wonderful scent permeated the entire thing, of course, but there were quite a few areas where I could pick up other scents - male scents mostly. Walking past her bedroom I could clearly smell one of the doormen, and even thought I caught a whiff of Alexis's scent. I chuckled at Layla's insatiable libido - I was going to have my hands full with feeding both her and Cyrea. My eyes lingered on the deep red satin sheets of her four poster bed. Layla had undoubtedly fed from countless of willing victims in here. Suddenly I halted. Where was my possessiveness towards Layla? Where was that almost crippling feeling that dominated me when I first saw Cyrea? I looked around in Layla's bedroom, as if I could find it somewhere hidden behind a curtain or cupboard, before my eyes trailed back to her bed. Yes, I could clearly detect the scents of several men and instead of wanting to tear them all to shreds, I was actually rather impressed at her insatiable desire. It suddenly dawned on me that must be a normal relationship between a master and his succubus - that, while they were connected, there was no automatic between mated demons, and so it did not matter when she'd feed from someone else. This realization came of no surprise to my demon however - despite loving Cyrea, he had no interest in loving someone else. In fact, he was rather pleased Layla had such a large libido and had entertained so many different men. She was a thriving succubus, and an excellent mate - indisputable demon logic... My human side on the other hand didn't immediately Layla, but figured it may grow in time. Or not. A satisfied sigh coming from my right disrupted my musings. I turned the corner to find Layla standing in the middle of a huge walk-in closet that was connected to her bedroom. She had positioned some swiveling mirrors on the walls so she could admire the markings my soul left on her body. The blackened tribal pattern was centered on her shoulder blades - an intricate design spread out with a few strands branching downwards to her lower back and some reaching up over her shoulders and cascading to the front. They looked beautiful on her and I couldn't suppress a hungry growl at seeing her stand there in her naked glory. We were mated now, and both me and my demon were thoroughly pleased. I walked up to Layla and hugged her from behind, bringing my nose to her neck and inhaling her sweet scent. The way she had positioned the mirrors allowed me to see all the symbols on my back clearly. Layla's markings perfectly integrated with Cyrea's, and my back was nearly completely covered by them. Closing my eyes I could distinguish both Layla's and Cyrea's piece of their soul mixed in with mine, and the tremendous power that came with it. The transformation that Cyrea's soul caused in my body was immense and took me days to process. Now that my body was strong enough to withstand the changes - and I was conscious this time round - I could clearly feel Layla's soul coursing through my body at this very moment, changing me just as Cyrea's soul must have done all those days ago. It was hard to describe the feeling, but her soul seemed to push and pull at my insides, altering me, making me stronger, making me more demonic. It was a strange and somewhat uncomfortable feeling though, but I didn't mind, it felt to have her soul merging with mine. As the seconds ticked by, I felt myself become stronger, both physically and mentally. My senses were stretching out even further and for a second there I thought I could even detect Alexis's presence a few floors above us. Layla cooed and rubbed her back against my chest. "Mmmm... I can feel your demon becoming stronger, Dante..." she purred lecherously, rubbing that wonderful ass of hers against my hardening cock. I pulled her closer to my chest. I knew she was turned on by feeling my demon inside me, and not one to disappoint, I let his power flow through me. Layla's corresponding moan and buckle of her knees made me grin wickedly. "Your demon is so powerful..." she moaned wantonly. Her eyes were closed and she was avidly rubbing her ass along my rock hard cock. I traced my finger along the scar of my claiming bite on her throat. Layla mewled desperately and spread her legs, wiggling her ass until my cock slid between her pussy lips. A deep, throaty sigh spilled from her succulent lips as she slid her pussy along my cock, covering it with her juices. The scent of her arousal rapidly permeated the closet, making me groan in desire. Panting, she tried to wiggle my cock into her hot core, but was not succeeding. She groaned in frustration and settled for sliding her pussy along the length of my shaft, mewling softly. I whispered. Layla opened her eyes and moaned in hot desire when she saw my red irises in the mirror. I promised her. A hoarse groan escaped her mouth and she kept staring into my eyes. She started panting in both anticipation and impatience and I could feel her immense desire burst through our newly formed bond. I grinned devilishly at her and let her feel my deep lust for her. Layla's eyes rolled back and she shuddered from the intensity. I let my hands roam her delectable body, never losing eye contact with her. My fingers reached her large breasts, eagerly squeezing those wonderful orbs. Layla mewled and gasped erotically when I pinched and pulled on her nipples. Her wiggling on my cock had turned into humping as she slid her soaking wet pussy all over my rigid member, coating it in a thick layer of fluids. Occasionally the head would bump against her clit and she would groan and buck. Her hands behind my head had grabbed my hair and tried to pull my face towards her neck. I leaned in and licked her scar, making her pant in desire. Meanwhile Layla's soul was still running wild through my body, still pushing and pulling at my muscles and my mind. I could feel my demon strengthen and grow, and he awoke with an eagerness I hadn't felt before - an eagerness to reassert our claim on Layla. I gently pushed Layla forward against the mirror and withdrew my dripping cock from her pussy lips. She growled fiercely in frustration, but then her eyes picked up movement in one of the mirrors and she saw me line up my cock with the entrance to her soaking pussy. She moaned deeply, staring intently at the reflection of my cock moving closer. Layla started panting hard when she could see and feel the wide head of my cock touch her outer lips. She groaned loudly, whispering "Yes... yes..." over and over again as I slowly slid my cock into her tight core, stretching her wide. "Ooohhhh... yessssss..." I slid in effortlessly despite the incredible tightness. Layla was moaning and squeezing my cock like mad, and I balled my fists as I tried to enter her as slowly as possible. My demon went crazy at the feeling of her pussy stretched around my cock and her soul wreaking internal havoc, still changing my body. I finally bottomed out and Layla gasped and cooed. Teasing her, I withdrew from her at an agonizingly slow pace until just the head was inside her. She kept frantically squeezing it with her muscles and panting hard, wordlessly begging me to fill her again. "I'm so close, Dante... You fill me up so good... Like no one ever has..." she moaned desperately. My demon growled deeply at her admission and suddenly I felt him push hard and rush to the foreground. His increased power surged through me, momentarily disrupting my control and causing my claws to extend and my wings to unfurl. Layla trembled in ecstasy and looked in my eyes, finding my red irises now fiery and ablaze instead, looking at her intensely. With a deep growl, I entered her hard in a single thrust. Layla wailed and came instantly. Hard. Her tight pussy became even tighter as she gripped my cock like a vice, her body bucking hard and moaning uncontrollably. I roared in triumph, as did my demon - immensely pleased that her body yielded to ours so effortlessly. I pumped in and out of her hard and fast, drawing out her orgasm, reveling in the way her muscles gripped my cock. Wrapping her hair in my fist and pulling it, I raised her face so I could look her in the eye. Her eyes were glazed over with her lust and residual ecstasy from her orgasm. I growled, still thrusting into her. Layla gasped and twitched, she was still sensitive from her orgasm. Overwhelmed by my demon's desire to assert my claim, I started fucking her harder and faster, urging her body to submit to my cock again and cum so gloriously once more. Much to my demon's approval, Layla surrendered herself immediately to the rough pounding I was giving her, moaning deeply and panting hard. I could feel her impending orgasm, mine not far behind. I was panting hard, sweat dripping from my body. Growling, I zeroed in on the scar of my claiming bite and bared my fangs. Layla looked at my fangs through the mirror with hooded eyes, panting hard and on the verge of cumming again. "Oh yes... Please, Dante..." she whispered desperately and she tilted her head to bare her throat. My demon soared at her submission and I bit down hard on her scar. This sparked Layla's orgasm and she came hard, clamping down her muscles on my cock. The feeling was exquisite and toppled me over into my own orgasm and I drank deeply from her blood for the second time today. My power surged through me throughout my orgasm and I roared loudly when I felt her soul crash into my spinal column. My spine burned immensely and something snapped and cracked inside of me. I felt the skin on my lower back rip from the pressure and something bloody, long and bumpy touched my legs and cascaded to the ground. My body trembled from exertion and I was panting like I had just run the marathon. What the fuck just happened... I looked around me, but all of the mirrors had cracked and some of the shards had fallen to the floor. Through the shards of silver glass that were still clinging to their frames I noticed something long and bony reaching down to the floor from behind my wings. After carefully disentangling myself from a heavily panting Layla I stood up straight and moved my wings out of the way, careful not to hit anything for they were already too big for her closet. Both Layla and I gasped when we saw what my wings had hidden from view. A long, thick tail had sprouted from my lower back. Although it was covered in my blood, I could tell it was the same dark shade as my wings, and it was quite boney. A large, razor sharp spike protruded from each bone segment and end of my tail ended in a wide, rather dangerous looking jagged spike. I quickly noticed that similar smaller spikes had also formed on the vertebrae of my spinal column - they jutted out from my skin and subtly blended in with Cyrea's markings that covered my spine, making it look like the markings themselves protruded from my back. Both Layla and I were left speechless from this turn of events, our heavy panting the only sound in the warzone that was Layla's walk-in closet. Layla's legs were still trembling from her multiple orgasms while she shakily slumped down to the floor. She reached out to touch my tail, testing the feel of it with her fingers. Her fingertips slowly glided across the bones, tracing every outline, all the while wearing a huge smile on her face. "This is fucking amazing!" she chuckled breathlessly. Wow... Yeah... Indeed it was... It took me a remarkable long second for this new development to sink in. As my mind worked overtime to process this, my eyes were mindlessly following Layla's fingers as she softly caressed the rough skin on my tail. It was immensely strange how completely natural it felt to have her fingers trace the contours of my tail, like I've had this new piece of anatomy since birth. Even lifting or tilting my tail felt like it was the most natural thing in the world. How utterly bizarre... Slowly Layla's fingers traced their way to one of the spikes. Mesmerized, she stared at the way the light glinted off the smooth surface and slowly pressed her finger on the tip. To both our surprise it cut through her skin like a knife through butter. Layla instantly retreated her hand with a painful wince and I kneeled down next to her, taking her wounded finger in my hand. The wound was a clean cut, and quite deep for the little pressure she applied. Layla's own healing abilities were kicking in, but I brought her finger to my mouth anyway to help the wound close. "Nice trick," Layla commented with a surprised smile when she withdrew her healed finger from my lips. Her eyes dropped to my tail that was lying on the floor, curled around us. "Very nice trick," she grinned. Even though Layla owned quite a spacious walk-in closet, with my wings - and now newly developed tail - I took up more space than I was comfortable with. I let my body take on its human appearance once more and guiltily glanced at the mirrors that had shattered somewhere between our fuck and my transformation. With a frown I discovered the lights had also broken at some point during the mayhem - probably due to my wings... - and I figured I would pay for those later. Layla's eyes followed my tail as it receded into my body. "So the tail is ...new? My soul did that?" she asked reverently, looking at me with an enthusiastic grin. I chuckled and cleared my throat. "Oh yes, it's new, I definitely did not have a tail before we mated," I replied, looking at her with a smile. Grinning, I stared at the floor where my tail lay moments ago - some vague reddish brown streaks marked the floor where my bloody tail had flopped down when it emerged from my body. A silent chuckle made my chest shake and I shook my head, unbelieving - I had a tail now - a long, dangerous looking tail. Amazing... Layla was still watching me with that same enthusiastic grin - she seemed to like this as much as I did. "Thank you, my sweet," I told her with a heartfelt smile. "I very much like my new tail." Layla giggled and got up on her knees so she could wrap her arms around my neck and kiss me. she purred while kissing me sweetly. Her etheric tail had slithered around my leg. I half expected it to crawl towards my cock, but I guess my succubus was satiated. For the moment. I sighed deeply into the kiss and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close to me. With some of the sweetest cooing sounds I ever heard, Layla gave into the embrace, her body comfortably flowing against mine. With a deep breath I inhaled as much of her delicious scent as I could and I lovingly caressed her sweaty skin wherever my fingers would reach. Layla purred and swooned, and through our bond I was warmed by a content feeling of peace. Her succulent lips engaged mine in one of the softest, sweetest kisses I'd ever enjoyed. With one hand I pulled her body closer to mine, my fingers slowly caressing the newly formed markings on her back. My other hand found its way to her neck, dragging my fingers through her hair. Layla cooed and completely surrendered herself to the sweet tenderness of this moment. The lack of lust right now was remarkable - in the short time I'd come to know Layla her primary focus had always been to entice others, to feed. Granted, today was the fist time we fucked, but I had a feeling that this deep feeling of satiation was rare for this sweet succubus of mine. she whispered her confession in my mind ever so softly, leisurely dragging her tongue along mine with a deep sigh. I promised her in the kiss, feeling her grip on my skin intensify with each sentence. Layla broke the kiss and her emotional eyes shimmered as she looked into mine, switching between one eye and the other, as if searching for something. A myriad of emotions shone in her eyes - joy, relief, hope. "You're not lying?" she half squeaked, half whispered her question to me, her eyes wide. She swallowed hard and evaded my gaze. "You didn't just claim me to fuck me?" Even though she hid it well, I could clearly feel a cold undercurrent of loveless pain seep through our bond. "I'm not lying," I told her truthfully, and sent her all the honesty and love I could muster through our bond. Layla's breath hitched and she threw her arms around me, her hands almost desperately pulling me against her. "Thank you," she whispered breathlessly. "Always, my sweet," I smiled in her hair and sought out her lips again with mine for a loving kiss. Layla mewled sweetly and deepened the kiss, sending me her joy through our bond. I drew her close to me while continuing this wonderful, slow kiss with her. My treacherous cock was already hardening, but this was not the time for sex. This was the beginning of a loving relationship between us, and I cherished it - we both did. After a while Layla wiggled on my lap and broke the kiss. She giggled as I felt a lusty vibe coming off of her. "Let's go home," she said softly. "I would very much like to catch up with Cyrea." I laughed at the lusty shift I felt through our bond - I was definitely going to have my hands full feeding both my succubi at this rate. I stood and offered Layla my hand to help her stand, which she clearly wasn't used to, but took it nonetheless. "Such a gentleman," she remarked with a sweet wink. I brought her fingers to my mouth. "I have my moments..." I mumbled as I placed a sweet kiss on her fingers. Layla purred in delight and I felt her etheric tail creep up my leg once again, making me chuckle. "Let's get dressed then, so we can go," I suggested, placing a last kiss on her fingers and releasing her hand. Layla smiled and turned around, tiptoeing around the broken mirror shards on the floor, making her delicious ass sway oh so enticingly. Balancing around the debri, she managed to maneuver herself in front of a large rack of dresses and started pulling out one sexy dress after another, holding them in front of her naked curves. She swiveled and turned, but was unable to properly see her reflection in the broken mirror. I frowned again, feeling responsible for the abysmal state her closet was in, but Layla didn't seem to mind. She kept doubting between a crimson dress and a black one, and had the cutest pout on her face when she couldn't decide which one to wear. I chuckled, leaving her to do her thing while I made my way back into her apartment, carefully avoiding the glass on the floor. I suggested, having navigated the minefield of sharp shards on the floor and located my own clothes in the hallway. Or rather, the remainder of my clothes. Only my pants and shoes were intact enough to be worn again. I sighed. I needed new clothes at this rate. I finished putting on my pants and shoes, picked up the tatters of what once was my shirt and went back inside Layla's apartment in search of a bin. The gorgeous sight that greeted me in Layla's bedroom caused a hungry growl to spill from my chest - Layla wore the crimson dress, as requested, and she looked delicious. The dress was a satiny one with a waterfall neckline where the fabric draped nicely across her ample bosom, putting her cleavage on display. It flowed down to about mid thigh and stretched enticingly across her ass. Layla gathered her long brown hair, lifted it and twirled around for me, showing me that the dress had a low cut back, putting her markings on display for the world to see. I was impressed, very impressed. My demon growled in delight at the sight of this delicious succubus - delicious succubus. I walked up to her, tracing the tribals on her shoulder blades and watching her shudder with a grin. "You look phenomenal, my sweet," I complimented her as she spun around in my arms, crushing my lips with an ecstatic kiss. I felt my demon stirr at having Layla press her delectable body to mine and rubbing it oh so subtly over me. I sighed. Now that I have two succubi bound to me, would I ever be able to get things done? Layla must have felt my mock frustration and giggled. "Alright, alright," she chuckled and broke the kiss, grabbing the dress for Cyrea and put it in a bag. "I get it. Let's go home." She cocked her head when she saw me in my shirtless state. Layla lifted a questioning eyebrow, to which I held up the remaining tatters of the shirt I wore earlier. "Ah," she said as she understood, taking the rags from me and disposing of them in the bin. She frowned when she looked my way. "I don't have anything that'll fit you I'm afraid..." she mumbled. I smirked. This scene was familiar, only now I was at the receiving end of having nothing to wear, instead of Cyrea. A lecherous smile brewed on Layla's face and she sauntered over to me to let her nails graze my naked chest. "Ah well..." she sighed dramatically. "I guess you'll have nothing to wear then," she purred. My succubus leaned in and dragged her tongue across my chest. I let my head fall back and groaned, in both desire and frustration. Layla just giggled and continued her enticing journey on my chest with her tongue. My head turned to the side and I gazed outside through her bedroom window - it was already dark. A wide grin appeared on my face. I scooped up Layla in my arms and headed towards her balcony. My succubus cooed in delight when she understood my intention and cordially opened the balcony door since my hands were occupied carrying her wonderful ass. Stepping outside I breathed in deeply, letting the scents of the city wash over me and listened to the city's nightlife. I closed my eyes and focused on the power in my chest, letting it flow to my back. Soon I felt that familiar burning sensation and my skin split open to reveal my wings. A small smile framed my lips when I stretched them wide, feeling the wind caress them. I still couldn't get over how amazing it was to have wings and be able to fly. Layla comfortably snuggled against my chest, letting her fingers graze my skin. I placed a quick kiss on her hair before dropping down to a slight crouch and leaping off the balcony, strongly beating my wings to gain altitude quickly. Within seconds we were soaring above the city, its lights looking like a glowing spider web beneath us. Layla cooed and purred while I tightly held her in my arms. It didn't take long before we reached the outskirts of town and I swooped down, landing gracefully on the factory roof. I gently put Layla down and quickly located the fire escape so we could enter the building. Stretching my senses I detected Cyrea below us - a deep calm flowed through our bond, and I realized she was probably sleeping. Layla and I climbed down the fire escape and entered my office via the backdoor. I had missed Cyrea deeply and was eager to hold her yet again and tell her what happened, but for now I decided it was best to let her sleep. I smirked and put a halt to a myriad of lecherous thoughts that were entering my mind - she'd need all of her energy when she'd wake. In the meantime I gave Layla a tour of the factory and explained my plans for this place. We ended up at the balcony overlooking the factory floor while I finished my story. She was silent throughout my explanation, but I felt her power flow through her and I could hear her heartbeat pick up when I told her about defying the deities. When I was done, her eyes had shifted to black and she was clacking her claws together. "Fuck yes," she growled. "Fuck them and their divine doctrine. It's high time somebody countered it." Layla kept flexing and unflexing her claws, her power wafting off of her. I caught myself thinking I would love to battle her too one day, but filed that thought for later. I looked deep into her eyes, letting mine fade to black. "Will you help me succeed?" I asked her. She fiercely looked back at me - her intent palpable through our bond before she replied. "All the way," she growled. I smiled wickedly. It seems I had another powerful ally in my quest for defiance. My head snapped up when I felt something I hadn't felt in a very long time - my neck started tingling and an ominous feeling gripped my chest. Something was wrong, someone was in danger. I growled and scoured the area, trying to detect anything hostile. Layla immediately noticed my alertness. "What's wrong?" she asked, quickly taking off her dress and letting her power flow through her in preparation for anything. I stretched my senses, unable to detect anything. "A bad omen," I told Layla. "Something is wrong." Layla scoured the factory hall, but couldn't detect anything either. Then I felt it. Cyrea was in trouble. Panic gripped my heart and adrenaline surged through my muscles as I rushed to our bedroom where she lay, eyes blazing and claws at the ready, but found her sleeping soundly. I scented the room, but Cyrea's lovely scent and mine were the only ones I could detect. As my eyes feverishly scoured the room, I caught something from the corner of my eye that made my body tense - Cyrea's forearm was marred by a shallow pink line of a recently closed wound. Again I scoured the room, but nobody was here - how did Cyrea become wounded? Suddenly I realized it must have happened in her dream. Of course - she must be Dream Walking right now - but it came as a nasty and unforeseen surprise to me that Cyrea apparently could get physically hurt in her dreams. Layla barged into the bedroom in her demonic form, wings spread wide and her tail swiping menacingly around her, frantically looking around for a trespasser. Also not finding any in here, she looked at me, confusion marring her face. "It's okay, there's nobody here," I told her. "Cyrea is Dream Walking. She must've run into some difficulties," I guessed. I had no idea if or how I could help Cyrea - she was asleep and I knew too little about this Dream Walking ability to know what to do. Layla eyed my sleeping soulmate with concern. "Dream Walkers can sustain physical damage when they're Dream Walking," she said softly, walking over to Cyrea and letting her demonic traits recede. She knelt down at the side of the bed and softly stroked through Cyrea's dark red curls. "They can even get killed..." Layla whispered, and I felt her fear seep through our bond. Killed?! I didn't like that one bit, and neither did my demon. My heart thundered out of my chest, fear made my muscles tense, adrenaline made my claws extend to eagerly tear apart anyone who would hurt Cyrea. I would let anything happen to her! "No fucking way!" I growled, moving to wake her up. Layla quickly swatted my hands away before they could touch Cyrea. Instinctually, I growled menacingly at her, fangs extended and eyes ablaze. "NO! That could kill her! Dragging a Dream Walker out of their dream can tear away their mind from their body and kill them..." she sobbed. My breath was rushing out through flared nostrils, my claws were scratching my palms, so very eager to tear something apart to protect Cyrea - when suddenly Layla's words pierced my protective rage. Suddenly Layla's wide eyes registered in my mind, her trembling lips and the heartbreaking step backward she took from me in my fury. Fuck! I quickly gathered Layla in my arms and hugged her close, covering her hair and face with kisses. "I'm so sorry, my sweet..." I whispered my apologies. "I'm sorry for scaring you... I was... I was just..." "No, don't worry... It's okay... I understand..." she replied softly and took a deep breath, letting her body sag against mine. I kissed the lone tear that escaped her eye and felt her fear for potentially losing Cyrea - a fear I fully shared with her. "I am very thankful that you stopped me, my sweet. I didn't know not to wake her," I whispered, rubbing my thumb across her cheek. My gaze shifted to Cyrea's arm, where another wound appeared and healed. I was powerless to help her - powerless to protect her when she needed help, when she needed . Dread and rage tore at my soul, gripping my throat and tightening my chest - all I could do was to stand by and watch. My powerlessness in this entire situation threw me from rage to despair and back again. The irony of the situation did not escape me, though. I realized very well that Cyrea must have endured the same when she saw me undergo my transformation a mere two weeks ago. Layla looked at me with compassion and fear in her eyes. Of course she felt my myriad of emotions through our bond. "Lay with her," she said softly. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. She wanted me to have sex with Cyrea now? Layla snorted at seeing my confusion. "Lay down next to her and hold her close to you. Make her feel that you're with her physically. Perhaps that will give her the strength she needs to face whatever it is she's fighting." A small breeze of tranquility flowed through the panic that stormed in my head now that I had a purpose - now that I could perhaps help Cyrea in a small way. I placed a loving thank-you-kiss on Layla's soft lips and crawled in bed behind Cyrea, scooting up behind her back and felt her tense up when a deep wound appeared at her neck. Licking it closed I wrapped her in my arms and drew her close to my chest. I let my power flow freely through my body, hoping she could feel it and that it would comfort her, knowing I was holding her. Layla smiled as Cyrea visibly relaxed in my arms. "Very good..." she whispered fondly and crawled in bed with us, snuggling up to Cyrea's chest, letting her arms rest on Cyrea's sides. "We're here for you Cyrea..." she whispered softly to her sleeping form. "Please endure..."

The world of fashion is cutthroat. Miya Atsumu knows this but it’s the dream really isn’t it? The glamour and the glitz hide eating disorders and tablets and coke instead of breakfast, it’s messy and tragic and yet the mirage is so enticing. Even since he was a child he was obsessed. The cold look in model’s eyes as they walked the catwalk, the fabrics, the shapes, the cuts, the colours. He was sold before he even turned ten and by that point, there was no turning back. It’s a dirty, dark industry but god it’s so alive. Atsumu adores it and so he had slaved away getting a fashion degree for the sole purpose of being able to taste even a sliver of that opulence down the line. Sure it might have been hell, his fellow students would have stopped at nothing to claw their way into internships and their professors worked them to the bone but the feeling of satisfaction when you finally brought a figment of your imagination into being with your own hands was like nothing else on earth. As soon as graduation had passed Atsumu knew he had one goal and one goal only, something that had fascinated him for years. He’d followed this designer for years and everything about his work enticed him, truly high fashion at its best. If there was one name you wanted to be associated with it was the enigma and the genius himself, Sakusa Kiyoomi. Atsumu has not heard a single good thing about this man apart from his raw talent; he’s apparently proud to the point of madness, cold to the point of downright rudeness, and critical to the point of spite. His work is the most sought after in the industry and being dressed by him is of the ultimate symbol of prestige and so it seems he can afford to be a bitch to work with. And at only 24 he’s nothing short of a miracle. Personally, Atsumu thinks he’s pretentious, stuck up and honestly slightly delusional but if there’s one sure-fire way of making his way to the top it’s by working with him which is why, despite all his reservations, Astumu is applying for a job as his personal assistant. This sort of opportunity is once in a lifetime as Sakusa insists on hiring young professionals straight out of university as a way of scouting fresh talent. His turnover is insane, many lasting only a couple of hours thus demand is high, and fine call Atsumu cocky but he thinks he can last better than the others. Which is how he finds himself twenty floors up, in a cream and marble lobby dressed to the nines all in a bid to sink his claws into the fashion world. He surveys himself in the reflection of the mirror behind the service desk. Acceptable to say the least, all black with silver accents was simple and nothing groundbreaking but effective and he feels that will be the winning card. The woman at the desk watches him out the corner of her eye before smiling slightly, motioning towards his shirt. “Chanel?”, she queries. “The one and only”, he replies with a smile. No need to let her know he slaved for months at his cafe job to afford it. He still remembers the first time he touched the fabric, it felt like luxury and he knows he looks like sin wearing it. The black is a stark contrast against his hair which thankfully he dies somewhat better than in his high school days. He fiddles with his necklace for a second trying to keep composure as he watches people file in and out the double doors. He’s certain he can do this, he doesn’t know why but it feels somewhat destined. This the place for him to be, just like Osamu’s is whipping up a storm in a Michelin star restaurant. They have expensive tastes he supposes or perhaps just a desire for something better. They come from nothing but even when they were just toddlers watching TV they were obsessed with that world of glitter and parties and scandals. It seemed so utterly surreal and yet here he is, his first foot on the ladder upwards. He glances down at his phone and smiles to see two text messages one from his mother telling him he’s going to do amazing and a selfie from Osamu and Suna the caption reading, ‘do your best and if it fucks up just suck his dick for the job’. He lets out a little chuckle and sends back a photo of his shoes against the marble floor, a little indicator of just how fancy the room is. He looks up to watch the clock, any minute now he supposes. His stomach jolts slightly but he pushes the feeling aside, he’s prepared for this. “Miya Atsumu?”, the secretary calls, glancing over at the few people left seated. He sends her a charming smile and stands up. Adjusting his watch and his rings before walking over to her. “Right this way”, she motions, smiling back as she holds the door open for him. He steps through. The room is nothing short of stunning, with floor-to-ceiling windows that let through the glistening sunlight and allow a view that stretches for miles across skyscrapers and apartment blocks. It is sparsely decorated in only muted tones and is so insanely coordinated Atsumu can’t help but be impressed. Then there he is, the man himself dressed in a navy dress shirt, unbuttoned one too many down for Atsumu not to stare slightly. Rolex on his wrist and gold chain around his neck, black curls coiffed to perfection. The way he sits is so poised, so collected, and yet with an intense suggestion that he is bored of everyone and everything and above whatever silly events of life are playing out around him. He reaches out an elegant hand, slim fingers grasp the paper on his desk and he raises his gaze. “Miya Atsumu, is that correct?” And his voice, deep and rich but with a slightly condescending streak that fits him oh so perfectly. He motions to the chair across from him, once again every movement so certain and considered. “Yes, sir.” Atsumu replies, flashing the man his trademark smile. Sakusa does not return it but Atsumu is not fazed, he’s managed to charm every person he has ever put his mind to and he will not let this man be the exception regardless of his position. He sits down crossing his legs and placing his hands over his knee before holding Sakusa’s gaze, refusing to look away. Eventually, Sakusa averts his gaze to look down at his cover letter, eyes scanning the page with a look of disinterest. “Your professors have glowing praise for you it seems. Do you think it’s rightly given?” “I do.” Atsumu replies and he watches Sakusa give the first tangible response so far, a slight quirk on the right side of his lip. “Not very modest are we?” Atsumu can’t help the thrum of excitement that courses through his body, he loves a challenge and this man is just it. He’s difficult and rude and apparently unreceptive to any sort of charm which sounds to Atsumu like the perfect game for him to play. “I have enough faith in my abilities that I don’t talk myself down if that’s what you mean.” Sakusa raises a quizzical eyebrow and Atsumu wonders if he’s pushed it slightly too far. “Is that so?” Atsumu simply nods in response and watches as Sakusa leafs through his portfolio. “This is promising work I will give you that although as you know it will not be designing nor creating that you will be doing here. Being a personal assistant is a very different ballpark.” “I think it will be an appropriate challenge”, Atsumu replies quickly. “How so?” “I like to think I am a very receptive and assertive person, this role would allow me to utilise such skills I imagine.” Sakusa merely nods and as he continues reading, it gives Atsumu a moment to drink in the curve of his neck to his shoulder and the delicate way his collarbone is framed by his shirt. He is nothing short of mesmerising and yes Atsumu can’t lie he would give anything for one night with this man but nothing more, his personality is about as unattractive as it gets. He eventually turns the page to Atsumu’s final university piece. That whole thing had been an ordeal beyond compare, six months of hard work and constantly badgering Kita and Aran to model his pieces for him until they finally caved and let him do their makeup and fuss over them for hours to ensure everything was perfect. He was insanely proud of the pieces and his professors had been full of praise for them as well. “Nothing all that groundbreaking really”, Sakusa says before he picks up Atsumu’s application and lazily tosses it in the trash. Now Atsumu is not easily angered but that was one of his life’s proudest achievements simply disregarded, if he wasn’t going to get this job any way he might as well show Sakusa a taste of his own medicine. He supposes they might be quite similar in that aspect, full of pride with an inability to admit defeat. “Well neither are a lot of your pieces, this season your work has stuck pretty much to the status quo of every other designer on the market.” He can’t quite believe he’s said it until Sakusa fixes him with a look of disdain. Eyes looking him up and down as if he’s deciding whether or not to promptly kick Atsumu off the edge of the building. “I never said that groundbreaking was necessary, simplicity is often key. You should learn to control your temper and not act so childishly, it would do you the world of good.” Atsumu grits his teeth and simply stares back, refusing to back down. “You can leave now”, is all Sakusa says and so Atsumu stands and strides out, feeling slighted and entirely furious. Yes, he probably should have not responded like that but everything that man did just radiated a sense of misplaced arrogance. Fucking narcissist he thinks bitterly. He’s about to pull the door open when Sakusa speaks again. “Oh and you’re hired, be here by 8 am sharp tomorrow.” Atsumu blinks once, twice, and then opens his mouth to speak, his brain helpfully having completely blanked. He vaguely wonders if he has started hallucinating because he cannot quite believe what he’s hearing. “Cool”, he replies casually, trying to mitigate the amazement in his voice and he thinks he sees the slight curve of a smile on Sakusa’s face before he shuts the door behind him, still in shock. The secretary turns to him an amused smile on her face, “congratulations Miya-san, I’m Shimizu Kiyoko let me get you your security pass and your employment paperwork and then you should be all set for tomorrow.” Atsumu only manages a nod, wondering how she already knew the outcome since the room was soundproof. He supposes Sakusa and his team must have many tricks hidden up their sleeve. The first thing he does the minute he’s out of the building is ring Osamu and scream down the phone for twenty minutes in excitement. Sure Sakusa is probably going to make his life a living hell but this is the start of his career and in the height of the fashion industry no less. He thinks he can put up with Sakusa’s whims for that.   ~   Okay he takes it back, he is no longer sure he can put up with Sakusa. It’s an hour into his first day of what is meant to be the opportunity of a lifetime, and Sakusa’s cat which for some reason has to be with him everywhere he goes has violently thrown up in the back of a taxi on the way to a client. The sheer power of that cat’s vomit had managed to go all over Sakusa’s trousers and Atsumu had waited for him to throw a fit but all that happened was the man pet the cat on the head and worryingly cooed. “Oh dear me, poor little baby.” It was the nicest Atsumu had seen Sakusa be to any other living thing and it was a quite bizarre experience and leaves Atsumu already at the end of his tether as Sakusa hands him his credit card and says simply, “go to the nearest store you feel is appropriate and buy me a new outfit then meet me at the venue, take longer than thirty minutes and you’re fired.” Atsumu only just manages to nod before he is being kicked out of the taxi onto the bustling streets. He blinks in the early morning sun thankful that he knows this area and starts jogging towards the nearest area of luxury boutiques he knows. The first one he sees that has a decent window display is the one he chooses, picking out what he hopes is a suitable outfit in a matter of seconds. Did he need shoes, fuck Sakusa hadn’t specified? He groans suddenly all too overwhelmed and then he sees the queue and almost faints on the spot. Being on the verge of a breakdown is not his best look so he takes a deep breath and walks over to one of the assistants smiling sweetly. “I honestly hate to bother you like this but I have to get these clothes to Sakusa Kiyoomi in twenty minutes or my job is on the line and-” He doesn’t have to say anything more because as soon as Sakusa’s name is past his lips the assistant is hurrying him to a till and blabbering on about how much she loves his work. Grabbing the bag he sends her another appreciative smile and hightails it out the shop before flagging down a taxi. He looks down at his watch, ten minutes to go and the venue is about that long away. Gritting his teeth he prays for divine intervention. Maybe there is a god somewhere up there because it just so happens the taxi driver is a madman and swerves in and out of traffic like nobody's business, definitely breaking the speed limit but right now Atsumu couldn't care less. And so he manages to make it with five minutes to spare, finding Sakusa in the bathroom of the lobby. Out of breath and probably sweating too he gives Sakusa the bag which he watches the man survey with annoyance. “Wouldn’t have been my choice but it will have to do”, he mutters and Atsumu feels his blood boil. Not so much as a thank you or even a smile he thinks bitterly. He waits in the bathroom as Sakusa changes and when he comes out Atsumu can’t help but be almost proud of himself; a simple pair of beige chinos and a black shirt with puffed sleeves ever so reminiscent of a blouse. Sakusa looks softer and younger in such an outfit and Atsumu kind of likes it. “I think you look wonderful sir”, he says and he means it genuinely. Sakusa huffs before replying, “yes, yes I suppose it’s fine.” Atsumu guesses that’s the closest he’ll get to a thank you and decides to accept the sentiment watching with vague amusement as Sakusa turns tail and stalks to the sink where the cat is now safely in her carrier. “I just need you to sit there and take notes and look after Neko okay?” Atsumu can’t help the laugh that slips through his lips, “you called your cat, cat?”. Sakusa sends him a demeaning stare. “It’s efficient is it not? Now don't make fun of her or you’re fired.” Once again Atsumu simply decides to hold his tongue as he follows Sakusa out into the lobby of the hotel, quickly going to the desk and noting their reservation as Sakusa stands there looking haughty. God he’s irritating Atsumu observes for the fiftieth time that day. When they’re finally seated he allows himself to relax just slightly, glaring at the cat as it hits at the metal bars of the pet carrier. Sakusa looks over and stares as he always does like he’s seen something nauseating. “Let her sit on your lap and stroke her, she doesn’t like being ignored.” Atsumu stares at him mouth agape, “how can I take notes if she’s on my lap?” “It's called multitasking I wasn’t aware that would be a foreign concept to you?”, Sakusa quips calmly and Atsumu almost throws the cat and the carrier at him but finds himself complying anyway. It turns out once she’s happily settled in his lap Neko is actually quite sweet. “You’re high maintenance just like your daddy y’know”, Atsumu coos to her as he scratches behind her ear. He can’t help the smirk tugging at his lips as Sakusa turns to him with his eyebrows raised and his eyes hard. “What was that Miya?” “Nothing”, Atsumu replies sweetly. Sakusa merely tuts and turns back to his phone but Atsumu knows he heard every word and he can’t help but feel a small moment of victory. When the client arrives he makes sure he’s all smiles to make up for Sakusa’s downright stand-offishness and dutifully takes notes whilst Neko purrs contentedly in his lap. “I was hoping for it to be asymmetrical, I think it would be far more complimentary.” The woman nods and Atsumu tries to remember which celebrity she is, he’d been reading up on her just this morning for this meeting but the room is warm and Neko is a comforting weight in his lap so he allows himself to disengage ever so slightly. He’s only broken from his reverie as Sakusa snaps. “No I will not make it fuchsia, vile colour not complimentary to your colouring at all, it’s going to be periwinkle.” The woman looks startled and slightly taken aback and Atsumu quickly straightens up and looks awkwardly between them. Sakusa looks furious probably because he’s had his expertise questioned and the woman looks equally offended. Atsumu doesn't know if it's his place but diffusing the situation seems the only reasonable response. “Mauve”, he says before he can think twice about interrupting them. Sakusa turns to him and looks almost shocked. “What?” “I think mauve might be a good midground, it’d look stunning with your skin tone and is understated whilst remaining feminine.” He pauses and surveys the two people in front of him, heart hammering in his chest. Oh god, he’s going to be fired for speaking out of turn and undermining Sakusa Kiyoomi himself. “Mauve”, Sakusa murmurs, and to Atsumu’s shock nods slowly. “Yes mauve would be perfect, what do you think?”, he says turning to the client. “Perfect”, she says, clapping her hands together, “just perfect, what a bright spark you have as an assistant.” Atsumu sends her a grateful smile and sighs as the tension diffuses, Sakusa taking control of the conversation once more on the matter of lace and necklines. It takes a while for his heart rate to settle but as he listens to them talking more amicably and as Neko begins to purr happily he can’t help but feel slightly pleased. When the meeting is over, the client kisses Atsumu on both cheeks and thanks him before leaving and Sakusa turns to him with an unreadable expression. “I’ll give to you that was a good suggestion.” “Thank you sir”, he replies, continuing to stoke behind Neko’s ears as she wriggles contentedly. “I am shocked she likes you, she’s bitten every other assistant I’ve had. Four of them quit because of it, even had to cover a hospital bill once.” He says it like he’s discussing the weather and Atsumu cannot help the snort of amusement that he makes. Sakusa looks at him disdainfully. “Don’t be vulgar.” “You’re telling me little Neko-chan here is a threat to society?” Sakusa smiles at her proudly, “yes she is.” Watching Sakusa’s gaze soften makes Atsumu almost believe he is capable of emotions and maybe, just maybe he isn’t the cold-hearted bastard he comes across as but then Sakusa’s eyes narrow and he continues. “You better have taken acceptable notes or I’ll train Neko to bite you on command.” Atsumu is brought crashing back to reality and is reminded that this is perhaps going to be an even harder task than he had previously imagined. At some point Atsumu falls into a sort of routine, he wakes up ridiculously early and spends his entire day on the heels of Sakusa, bending to his every whim and wish, and by the end of the day he’s so exhausted he passes out almost instantly. The pay is good and the exposure is even better, seeing himself on tabloid covers next to Sakusa feels like a dream, and so shockingly he’s relatively content. Sure Sakusa drives him up the wall but there are moments now and then that he feels like he sees the real man behind the mask and that is enough to keep Atsumu going. He’s sitting with Kiyoko at lunch as he often does, scalding black coffee in hand because it's the only thing that gets him through the day. Watching as the energetic ginger stylist from the other floor comes bouncing over to them. “Hey Kiyoko and Atsumu was it?” Atsumu nods and sends the man a warm smile, his energy is infectious. He’s followed by one of the senior stylists, a brooding man with dark hair who from what he can tell is dating the ginger boy whose name he finds out is Hinata. They exchange pleasantries and he listens as they gossip about this and that. He finds out that a Kuroo and Kenma from the website and communications department have been secretly hooking up, or he supposes not so secretly considering that he now knows and that Kiyoko has a crush on one of the streetwear models named Tanaka but also one of the runway models named Yachi, it seems a complicated situation so he doesn't ask any further. “And I found out Oikawa is definitely seeing his personal trainer, I told you months ago and no one believed me”, Hinata whines and the dark-haired man rolls his eyes. “I’ve already told you I don’t want to know about Oikawa’s sex life why do you insist on telling me-” At just that moment as if on command a brunette walks around the corner and yells at Hinata, “well if it isn’t shrimpy-chan!” Hinata scrunches up his face in annoyance but a smile breaks through nonetheless and the man bounds over, shortly being introduced as the Oikawa that had just been mentioned. Atsumu can’t help but lean over to Kiyoko and ask. “Is everyone here just hooking up with everyone else then?” Kiyoko gives a knowing smile and replies, “well everyone here is attractive and creative and driven so it is a recipe for disaster or success, I’m really not sure which”. Atsumu silently agrees as he watches Hinata tease Oikawa with his newly found gossip. “I knew you were getting together the minute you called him Iwa- chan you’re only that annoying when you want to fuck the person”. Oikawa mock hits him, screwing his face up and sticking his tongue out. “Shut up, what would you know with your nice healthy, stable, relationship?”, Oikawa fires back adding in a retching motion and Atsumu can’t help but laugh. Oikawa turns around and sends him a cocky smile, “and you must be Sakusa’s new assistant? You’ve lasted way longer than most”, he notes looking at Atsumu questioningly. “Yeah it’s been a little over a month now, still waiting for him to throw me out though”, Atsumu jokes as the whole group turns to him. “I don’t know, I think you’re the right sort of person, you don’t put up with his shit when he starts getting difficult”, Kiyoko mutters and Hinata nods. “Yeah, he needs someone who will match his energy y'know.” “What being a bitch?”, Atsumu jokes only to see Sakusa appear out of the corner of his eye. He feels his ears turn pink and he scuttles over to follow him back to his office turning to the others and motioning a finger gun to his head which arouses a stifled giggle from the group. Once they are seated in his office Sakusa slides a file towards him, “this is the biggest private gathering of the rich and famous of the year, you are to accompany me and we’ll be picking out an outfit for you today”. Atsumu blinks in surprise, this is the first time he has really got to be involved with the more glamorous side of the industry beyond being a mere shadow in the background taking notes and to be decked out in Sakusa’s pieces no less. It feels too good to be true. “And Miya?” “Yes sir?” “Every interaction you have with someone at this event is crucial, the networking I do here sets up my business plans for the next year so you have to be on your best behaviour?” Atsumu makes a face before replying, “I’m not an untrained dog y’know, I can hold my own”. Sakusa merely fixes him with an incredulous look that makes Atsumu’s cheeks burn with annoyance. No matter how many times he manages to reach the bar of Sakusa’s expectations the man simply raises them higher again. Although if he’s being honest with himself this sort of chase is exactly the sort of thing that he enjoys. “I’ll believe that when I see proof and not a moment before”, Sakusa replies, condescending as ever. “Anyway I shall be styling you because I don’t trust you to do it yourself”, Atsumu doesn’t even grace the comment with a reply and simply watches as Sakusa walks into the built-in closet he of course has next to his desk. This man is all manner of opulent, you would think Atsumu would be used to it by now but as he gazes in at the shelves of shoes and racks of garments he can’t help but be impressed all over again. Seeing Sakusa in his element like this is ever so slightly endearing, the way he runs his hands over the fabrics, his gaze evaluative and critical as always. Atsumu watches as he pulls out various pieces before tutting and shaking his head, the process goes on for about ten minutes before Sakusa turns and beckons Atsumu towards him. “We want a perfect balance between seductive and elegant I think, as for colours…”, he doesn’t finish as he grabs something silky in a deep petrol blue from the back of the railing. It’s nothing short of stunning, a wide-open V-neck shirt with billowing bishop sleeves, Atsumu adores it instantly. Sakusa also seems pleased as he holds the garment up to Atsumu’s face, surveying it for a moment. “Very much your colour I think, maybe just simple tailored trousers also. We want the top to be the star of the show although… I think a choker as well”. Atsumu gapes as Sakusa places an elegant line of diamonds in his hands, the piece is so intricate and Atsumu does not want to consider how much it is worth. He's broken from his musing as Sakusa throws a bundle of black fabric towards him and orders him to try everything on. When it is finally all assembled Atsumu finds himself gawking slightly in the mirror, he always dresses well but there’s something ethereal about the way the outfit that Sakusa had chosen comes together. Every piece balancing out the other in perfect harmony, he looks so poised but also ever so slightly suggestive just as Sakusa had promised. The shirt’s neckline plunges down his torso revealing tanned skin and the choker frames his neck to the point where he almost looks delicate. The trousers fit like a glove and Atsumu just has to turn to appreciatively survey the way his ass and legs look. Walking out of the closet he does a dramatic twirl for Sakusa and he thinks he sees the hint of a smile on the other man’s lips. It’s weird being under the scrutiny of his eye like this but Atsumu can tell he’s satisfied with his work before he even voices it. Over the last few weeks, Atsumu has realised he has slowly tuned into Sakusa’s responses until he’s often able to guess the outcome before it’s even revealed. “Yes, that will do nicely”. Atsumu just smiles in agreement, already feeling the bubble of excitement in his stomach at the very thought of finally getting a taste of the luxury he’s always dreamed of.   ~   The days before the event blur by as Atsumu is kept busy with what feels like a million and one faces to remember so that Sakusa can act as if he knows everyone there. So much of this world is a facade is what he’s quickly learning, a game to play, a constant theatre production where you act your part. Sakusa even allows him to sleep in so he’s at his best for the evening and by the time he’s slipping into his outfit and adding the slightest hint of eyeliner and mascara for the occasion he can feel his body humming with excitement. This is what he has been wanting to be a part of all this time and here he is. He facetimes Osamu gleefully showing him his outfit as Suna yells compliments in the background. God he misses them, being so far away whilst working himself into the ground every day has left him very little time to catch up with them and he feels a sudden pang of nostalgia for the carefree wild days of high school. When he hangs up the slight melancholiness remains no matter how much he tries to shake it and he has to admit to himself that the one tragic part of the fashion industry is how lonely it is, the competitiveness breeds individualism sometimes to destructive levels. He knows over time he’ll form closer bonds with Kiyoko and the others but it's going to take time and right now the main person he has is Sakusa which is a bizarre thought in itself. Pushing the feelings aside he finishes with a spritz of aftershave and deems himself good to go, calling a cab to take him to Sakusa’s apartment. The late evening streets whisk past him, street lights blurring and Atsumu can feel the anticipation growing once again, he has no idea what outfit Sakusa has planned but he cannot wait to see. However Sakusa acts, he is a genius after all. The car slows down and gives Atsumu a moment to survey the skyscraper that is home to Sakusa’s multimillion apartment before he sends a quick message to notify the man himself that he’s arrived. Waiting, slightly on edge, as he watches people bustle by. Sakusa appears out of the lobby in a floor-length black coat and a matching black face mask, completely obscuring his outfit underneath and yet he still looks good even like that Atsumu muses. He strides over to the car purposefully, sliding in next to Atsumu and motions for the taxi driver to move and then carefully removes his mask and Atsumu’s brain maybe stops functioning for a second because even in the hideous taxi light Sakusa looks ethereal. Lashes long, blush high on his cheeks, lips with the slightest hint of red, and his curls shining like they’ve been polished. Regardless of what outfit he’s wearing, Atsumu already knows he’s going to be the most eye-catching person there by eons. “You look stunning”, it’s out his mouth before he can even process what he’s saying and Sakusa gives him a look of vague amusement. “Is that so?”, he asks and Atsumu can feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he tries to remain composed. He doesn't trust himself to speak so just nods in response instead. He watches as Sakusa chuckles slightly, surprised by how normal he seems for a moment. “Well, you don’t look too bad yourself, of course, that’s because I dressed you.” Atsumu rolls his eyes in response but knows that Sakusa is probably right. They spend the rest of the journey going over the most important people there and those Sakusa needs to speak to regarding business matters. Not the most riveting conversation and yet Atsumu can’t help but gaze at Sakusa every time he speaks. They arrive at the venue and Atsumu has to take a moment to acclimatise to the sheer grandeur of it all. A villa of almost Great Gatsby proportions with the entire front courtyard covered in lights, with Mercedes and Ferraris tailing back down the private road as far as the eye can see. Everything is excessive and beautiful to the point of madness and Atsumu is enthralled. It’s only once they’re inside the doors and Sakusa passes his coat to an awaiting server that he finally sees the full effect of Sakusa at his best. The whole outfit is understated but on Sakusa it looks like art. A deep, dark red blouse almost entirely sheer and lacey, black trousers, and a pair of black boots that shine almost as brightly as his hair. It’s only now that Atsumu can appreciate that his blush and lips are almost the identical colour of his top and thus the entire look is in total harmony, not that he would expect anything less from Sakusa. He must have stared for too long because Sakusa gives him a quizzical look. Before he can defend himself there is a man dressed in a suit directing them through into the main room which as it turns out is nothing short of a ballroom, chandelier, and all. Sakusa doesn’t seem the slightest bit affected but Atsumu finds himself looking around furtively trying to drink in his surroundings like they might suddenly disappear. The people too, designers, singers, actors, authors, artists. All the bright young things, all the celebrity sweethearts, all gathered in one room. It feels like a dream. Sakusa seems to notice he’s slightly dazed and leans over to mutter. “Pull yourself together, remember this is all for business purposes.” Atsumu hums in agreement, readying himself as a woman walks over and sweetly greets Sakusa with a slight French accent and an air of aristocracy. Before long Sakusa and her are engaged in conversation and Atsumu notes that this woman takes none of Sakusa’s tone, giving as good as she gets whenever Sakusa gets at all snarky. He seems to love it and Atsumu wonders if this is what Kiyoko meant about him needing an equal. He watches them fire back at each other for a while before noticing a young man walking over to him. He’s actually quite reminiscent of Sakusa, with wavy black hair and sharp features. He’s stunning and dressed all in black but perhaps the most shocking thing is that he smiles directly at Atsumu, barely even acknowledging Sakusa’s presence. “So you must be the new assistant? He does always choose the pretty ones”. Atsumu feels himself blush as he tries to rack his brains for the name of this man before it hits him all at once. Akaashi Keiji, one of Sakusa’s biggest rivals in the fashion world, and by default probably someone Atsumu should hate but it's not his fault this man is gorgeous alright? “You’re too kind, Akaashi-san”, he replies. “Oh not at all, you look stunning tonight. Better be careful or you might just outshine Sakusa himself.” Atsumu vaguely wonders if Sakusa heard that and he almost hopes he has. “Oh but I don’t think anyone will be comparing to you tonight”, Atsumu can’t help the flirtatious tone his voice takes on and he watches as Sakusa whips around, a forced smile on his face. “Keiji, good to see you”, it’s strained and his eyes flick between Akaashi and Atsumu as he says it. “Kiyoomi, long time no see”, Akaashi replies with a smile that does not quite reach his eyes. “If you could stop distracting my assistant that would be most appreciated.” “Oh well, really it’s not my fault you hired someone so alluring is it?”. The dark look that crosses Sakusa’s face surprises Atsumu, it’s almost possessive and just like that Sakusa has an arm around Atsumu’s waist and is steering him away from Akaashi and into a quiet corner. The look of anger does not dissipate. “Do not flirt with people, I have a reputation to uphold here”, he snarls out and Atsumu is taken aback by the sheer anger in his tone. “I was just trying to be polite”, he tries but Sakusa just shakes his head vehemently. “Any more of that and you’ll never set foot in my company again, okay?” Atsumu just nods meekly and trails behind Sakusa as he rejoins the crowd, grabbing a glass of champagne off a tray to steady his pounding heart. And so it goes on. Atsumu tells Sakusa who anyone he doesn’t know is, they engage in conversation sometimes it's interesting, sometimes it's not and then they move to the next person. After a while, the mirage of opulence wears off and Atsumu finds himself bored and yes maybe has had one too many glasses of complimentary champagne. Now, this would not be a massive issue as he’s no lightweight but even when rendered tipsy his accent and dialect begin to show, the ones he’s taken so long trying to hide for fear of them making him seem unprofessional. He can already tell that a slight change has taken place as Sakusa is looking at him somewhat confused and mildly curious. “I didn’t realise you spoke in Kansai dialect?”, he asks rather bluntly as they move between guests, and Atsumu feels heat rise to his cheeks for what feels like the hundredth time that night. “Um well yer”, he stutters back, brain frantically trying to process his words so he doesn’t mess up. “How quaint”, Sakusa murmurs and Atsumu can’t quite tell if it's an insult or not. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”, he rebukes. “Pipe down and stop making a scene”. Atsumu huffs slightly and averts his eyes to watch the steady movement of people around the room. Insufferable, he decides. Sakusa is insufferable. It’s while he’s mid inner monologue about how he can’t believe he’s being bossed about by someone barely older than him that Sakusa speaks again. “It's not professional to sulk”. His tone is so supercilious that it only works to make Atsumu pout more. “I'm not sulking”, he replies obstinately before turning to Sakusa who is, to his surprise, ever so slightly smiling. The whole world slows slightly and Atsumu just takes a moment to stare and drink in the way that there is no condescending or sarcastic quirk to the upturn of his lips, he just looks genuinely amused as if Atsumu is one of his friends who’s just got too drunk at a party and has started dancing on tables. He almost looks like he’s endeared. But just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again and Sakusa is giving him one of those looks which is ever so reminiscent of the way his teachers at school would look at him when he was caught daydreaming about catwalks and walk-in wardrobes instead of considering the literary prose of Wordsworth or the equation of a line. And so the night wears on until the soles of Atsumu’s feet are aching and the light dancing off the chandelier makes his eyes hurt. It’s a welcomed relief when Sakusa finally says they can leave and by the time they’re safely in a cab it’s well past three in the morning and Atsumu feels like he might pass out there and then. When it’s Sakusa’s turn to leave the taxi he turns to Atsumu and for a fleeting moment Atsumu wonders whether he’ll say something vaguely nice or even offer a thank you for coming with him but all the man says is “See you tomorrow at 8 am, don’t be late”. Atsumu just splutters in horror, unable to even answer before the car door has been closed and the taxi is whisking him away into the night. The last glimpse of Sakusa he gets is his hair shining like an iridescent halo under the streetlights. The next day Atsumu drags himself into Sakusa’s office, sleep-deprived and with the remnants of last night’s alcohol still coursing through his system. “Look at that state of you”, Sakusa quips the minute he walks through the door. “I’m gonna sue you for breaking labour rights”, Atsumu snaps back. “You technically weren’t on shift.” Atsumu fixes Sakusa with a glare that the man just ignores, continuing to rifle through the papers on his desk. For a moment Atsumu wonders what Sakusa would do if he quit right then and there but the stubborn voice in the back of his head reminds him that he can’t let Sakusa beat him. He’ll stick it out till the bitter end if he has to. He’s already lasted longer than 90% of the candidates and he won’t stop till he’s been Sakusa’s longest-standing assistant and that’s a promise he’s made to himself. He waits quietly as Sakusa furiously scrawls something on the paper beneath him and entertains himself as Neko hops into his lap and buries her face into his chest as she always does. At least someone in this office appreciates him, he thinks spitefully. “Right, first port of call I need you to go downtown to pick up a birthday cake.” “Oh for a friend of yours?” Atsumu is genuinely curious; he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Sakusa talk about any family or friends and of course, he’s never dared ask anything for fear of losing his job on the spot. Sakusa was always weirdly private the minute anything personal came up, he guesses it’s a pavlovian reaction after being hounded by the media for so long. The dichotomy is still weird though as Atsumu has spent probably far too much time telling Sakusa about his twin brother and his escapades from childhood. To his surprise Sakusa always listens, never enthusiastically but he seems to refrain from telling Atsumu to shut up which is shocking in itself. He’s broken from his reverie as Sakusa replies, “Oh I can’t stand him but formalities are necessary to stay in people’s good books.” It’s such a Sakusa response and Atsumu can’t say he’s surprised, just slightly disappointed that he didn’t get more insight but he doesn’t push the matter knowing it’ll end in some scathing comment if he dare tries. He gets the address for the bakery and leaves quickly, Sakusa seems more techy and stressed than normal and Atsumu does not want to push it today. Of course, when he arrives the bakery is every level of excess and he does not even want to consider how expensive a birthday cake from such an establishment even costs as he gazes in awe at the rows of profiteroles, macaroons, eclairs and a hundred other things he can’t name. The prices make him want to vomit but god they are so beautiful. The cashier greets him with a warm smile and he quickly tells her the order and she bustles away. The one benefit of working for Sakusa is that the minute his name is mentioned, service improves tenfold. And then a thought strikes him, he isn’t entirely sure why but he can’t help thinking of how exhausted and on edge Sakusa had looked this morning and so he takes a moment to survey the options before him. When the cashier returns he asks for one raspberry and one pistachio macaron, taking the box with a smile as he thinks of Sakusa. It turns out it’s quite the ordeal to maneuver a stupidly expensive five-tier cake through the mid-morning traffic but as he almost trips over the fourth dog that day his mind wanders elsewhere. It’s to the matter of how he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sakusa eat anything aside from black coffee that his thoughts stray. He hopes it’s merely a coincidence but he’s all too aware of the behavior this industry breeds and a sudden wave of worry washes over him. God, is he really bothered about Sakusa’s eating habits of all things now? Setting down the cake gently onto Sakusa’s desk, he waits as the man opens and inspects the contents till he is satisfied. It's only then that he pushes the smaller box towards Sakusa. “I thought you might need a little pick me up after last night.” Sakusa looks at him quizzically before replying, “you bought something for me?” He sounds slightly puzzled as if the notion of someone doing anything for him without being asked is a totally foreign concept. His fingers delicately undo the ribbon and open up the box, a soft smile creeping onto his lips and Atsumu feels his heart flutter ever so slightly. “That’s very kind.” It is the single nicest thing Sakusa has ever said to him and Atsumu feels his heart swell with pride. Maybe he hasn’t broken down his walls yet but it feels like he’s removed at least one brick and has been permitted a quick glimpse behind the mask. “Not quite my taste though, you have them”, he pushes the box back across the table and Atsumu’s heart sinks. “No they’re for you”, he replies, refusing to let Sakusa reject his gift. He can’t shift the continuous niggling feeling that this isn’t about personal taste but something more insidious but Sakusa just shakes his head again. “Okay fine but can you at least order breakfast or something, have you eaten at all today?” “That is none of your concern Miya. Now go sort the new intern with Kiyoko.” The soft lilt to his voice has totally disappeared and his tone has regressed back to its cold and unwavering standard. Atsumu feels crushed. Why does he care so much about Sakusa’s eating habits for god’s sake? And yet even as he tries to convince himself not to care he can’t quell the feeling of worry that burgeons in his stomach. “You and Kiyoko can have them, I know she has a soft spot for pistachio.” Atsumu takes the box wordlessly and leaves the room.   ~   Over the next couple of weeks, Atsumu begins an investigation of his own. Asking the people he knows from various departments about Sakusa’s life. Does he ever take time off? Ever been sick? Ever been late? Does he ever eat at work? Any close friends? Has he ever been in a relationship? He knows he’s prying but he has suddenly realised how little he actually knows about the man he works for. Everything he knows feels like a carefully created mirage of a person with little resemblance to whatever the real Sakusa is like. And the more he hears the more he can’t push the worry aside. Sakusa acts like a machine, not a single scandal to his name, beautiful, poised, collected and utterly dedicated to his work. Which is why Atsumu finds himself blurting out in a taxi on the way to a showing, “do you have a therapist?” Sakusa fixes him with his trademark look of disdain and Atsumu feels himself whither under his gaze. “Excuse me?” “Sorry, was just wondering considering you always seem so stressed.” “Shut up.” “Okayyyyy.” So the straightforward tactic has failed and so Atsumu decides a new approach is needed and that is the one and only Miya Atsumu charm offense. Maybe it didn’t work the first time around but Atsumu’s not a quitter and he’s going to work out this enigma of a man if it’s the death of him. And so it begins... “I need to give you a nickname.” “No you absolutely do not.” The evident disgust in Sakusa’s voice is only more fuel for Atsumu’s plan. He’s pretty sure he’s reached the point where Sakusa will mostly tolerate him and thus he now can push the boundaries just a little more than before. Kiyoko had ranted to him about how much work and unneeded stress the constant turnover of personal assistants was and thus Atsumu figures Sakusa will now be slightly less willing to be as finickity as before. He likes to think he’s proven himself capable at the very least. “Omi- Omi!” “No.” “Yes!” “One more word and you’re out.” Atsumu smirks, he knows it’s mostly an empty threat. “But Omiiiiii”, he drawls and Sakusa gives him a scornful stare. “What happened to the days when you called me sir and actually behaved?” This time Atsumu grins wider as he watches Sakusa’s face twitch with annoyance as he realises the implication of his words. “Oh kinky, Omi-Omi!” “Shut up and go run errands, you’re insufferable.” Atsumu all but skips out the door, blowing a kiss before he exits. This becomes their new normal and Atsumu is suddenly not so horrified at the prospect of waking up early every morning. Dragging himself to work seems less intolerable and seeing Sakusa’s face each morning maybe makes him smile a bit. Even Osamu notes the change, asking him what’s happened at work, Atsumu just mumbles nothing and he hears his twin huff disbelievingly down the line. “Just don’t get hurt dumbass?” “What’s that even mean?” He’s genuinely puzzled as far as he can see this new trajectory with Sakusa is nothing but beneficial for everyone involved. “Well y'know what yer like, falling in love with every pretty boy that gives you attention.” Asumu splutters down the phone, hearing Suna’s cackle of a laugh in the background. “It’s not like that”, he retaliates and before long the conversation has moved elsewhere but the thought stays with him for the rest of the day. He isn’t quite sure what he feels about Sakusa but it’s definitely nothing like that. The man is difficult and rude and sometimes completely unbearable but then again there are moments when Atsumu’s heart flutters ever so slightly when he’s speaking and... oh no he is not going down this path. Absolutely not, time to suppress whatever stupid whims his heart decides to make. It sounds like a problem for future Atsumu to deal with, he decides.   ~   Thankfully the heavens have blessed Atsumu because he does not have a moment to think about his feelings as the impending Spring Showing has left every person working for Sakusa run off their feet as outfits are compiled, models hired and locations booked. It’s the main event of the year, so Sakusa’s clothing line can be displayed for the rich and famous and it sets the trend for the spring and summer to come. There’s an adjoining event in September but Sakusa is renowned for his summer pieces and thus this event takes center stage every year. Atsumu has never seen the office like it, overrun with people and busy from dawn till dusk. Even the other departments seem stressed and the whole building is a hub of activity; Atsumu can almost feel the thrill and anticipation in the air. As for Sakusa, well he looks exhausted and stressed but there’s a bright look in his eyes nevertheless. Atsumu spends too much time trying to convince him not to work himself into the ground but his worries are always dismissed with a shake of the head and motion of a hand to make him shut up. But there’s really too much to think about to waste time worrying; bouquets to be arranged, food to be ordered, guests to be invited. It’s utter madness for a whole fortnight and before Atsumu can blink it’s already the day before. The moment he arrives, Sakusa is on edge. Yelling at Kiyoko and the rest of the team in such a ferocious way Atsumu considers turning tail and hiding in the toilets for a while. But Sakusa spots him instantly and calls him into the office, already spitting out a million and one thing he needs Atsumu to do. “Omi before we do anything I am going to get you a coffee and you’re going to sit down for five minutes and try to relax.” “Miya kindly shut the fuck up and do what I told you to do.” Atsumu rolls his eyes but complies, there’s no use trying to convince a lost cause. Moving into the lobby he sees Tanaka, Yachi and Kiyoko huddled in a corner, the rest of the room is almost filled to the brim with people. There are many faces he’s never seen but he at least recognises Oikawa, Tendou and Lev was it? Clapping his hands together and smiling he says, “okay everybody Sakusa said it’s time to move to the venue so we can go run through everything a couple of times and set up properly”. There are nods from the crowd of people and Atsumu watches in amusement as he sees Hinata and Kageyama pushing a large railing of clothes past them, Hinata yelling obscenities as the wheels run over his feet. Yes, it’s utter chaos but the excitement in the air is everything he’s dreamed of and more. Turning on his heels he goes back into Sakusa’s office and can’t help the almost audible gasp that falls from his lips. “I was just trying on my outfit before we get our ride, what do you think?” It’s not often Sakusa asks for Atsumu’s opinion but right now is not the time because Atsumu is lost for words. He’s decked out in a suit of mint green made of a fabric that Atsumu can’t quite place but it undulates beautifully under the light. A delicate silver chain around his neck and various rings adorning his fingers. It's bolder than Sakusa’s usual understated looks and it commands attention and yes Atsumu’s brain is absolutely short-circuiting. “It’s perfect”, he finally manages. “Cat got your tongue? You normally always have something to say.” Is Sakusa teasing him right now? If his brain wasn’t already fried it is now as Sakusa playfully smirks at him. “Who are you and what have you done with Sakusa?”, Atsumu eventually manages to fire back. Sakuas shrugs and just says, “I guess I’m just happy to see all our hard work be celebrated as it should be.” And at that moment he looks so genuinely content Atsumu thinks he’s finally seen him as he should be, young and carefree. The urge to kiss him comes out of nowhere and Atsumu physically takes a step back, shocked by his own thoughts. Oh no, not now, absolutely not. He pleads with himself as Sakusa continues talking about some logistical matter. Atsumu does not take in a word as he desperately tries to battle with his brain, trying to reverse the course it seems so intent on going down. He continues battling with his inner monologue as Sakusa walks out with him to the awaiting cab. And the whole drive is Atsumu having nothing short of a slight internal breakdown as Sakusa talks. He’d always thought Sakusa was attractive, that was obvious everyone did but for it to go any further than that was not something he’d seen coming. Osamu knows him too well, twin connection and all that. He’s finally brought back to reality as Sakusa addresses him. “Your outfit will be at the venue.” “Who picked it out?” He already knows what he’s wishing for, the thought of Sakusa pondering over what he’d look good in does incredible things to his ego. “Kageyama.” Atsumu feels a slight disappointment but forces it down. He’s professional, this job is everything he’s ever wanted and he cannot fuck it up. So he makes a hum of affirmation and the rest of the journey passes in silence. The venue is of course stunning, trust Sakusa to host his runway in a botanical garden no less. The main catwalk is set up in a large greenhouse, gently humid and filled to the brim with plant life. Lights have been set up through the branches and it looks utterly enchanting. Sakusa seems pleased with everything and Atsumu sighs with relief. For anything to go wrong now would be nothing short of a disaster. And so it all begins, models getting fitted into their pieces as makeup artists and hairstylists fuss over every intricate detail. Atsumu is given his outfit, an all-white suit, relatively simple as he is only an audience member and thus should not distract from the runaway in any way. He notes that although it is beautiful it has nothing on what Sakusa would have chosen, he’s not sure how he knows that but he is certain. Sakusa gives it an approving nod when he sees him and then strides off again to sort yet another model or to calmly tell the stylists that they’ve just done it all wrong. However cutting his comments are Atsumu can’t help but admit that he is always right. His eye for the slightest of changes is astounding and so by the time it is late afternoon everything has been surveyed to perfection. Cars start arriving just as the sun begins to set. Bathing the greenhouse in warm, rosy light as the guests are seated and from where he’s perched Atsumu drinks in the presence of so many people he’s only ever seen through a screen or on the glossy pages of a magazine. The audience hums with anticipation and just as the sun is at its lowest point, sending the deepest golden hue through the glass panelling, the models start to walk. It is totally magical and Atsumu chances a quick glance at Sakusa sitting next to him and his eyes are alive and his lips are ever so slightly curved upward. He’s done an incredible job and he knows it. Soon the whole place is in almost darkness apart from the lights strung in the leaves and the ground lights illuminating the runway. It gives the models a harsh edge, different from the way the previous sunlight had made them look ethereal and soft. Their cheekbones look stronger, jawlines sharper and eyes darker. Kiyoko on his other side has her hands clasped together and he watches as her eyes widen with excitement as Yachi and Tanaka come down the catwalk. He wonders if she’s finally managed to sort that situation, he hopes so, the way she looks at them is the same way Osamu looks at Suna when he’s proud of him or just before he feeds him onigiri. What Atsumu would do to be looked at like that. When the models all come out together for a final moment there is rapturous applause that quickly turns into a standing ovation. Atsumu can tell it’s been a resounding success. Cameras are flashing and people whisper between each other as Sakusa stands and smiles, clapping his hands towards the models who all smile back at him. He doesn’t say anything, no speech, no interviews. His work speaks for itself. Then the chaos really begins, the afterparty. There’s an open bar and so Atsumu decides that it’s all going downhill from here but that he finds that he doesn't really care all that much. Sakusa actually looks vaguely happy and Kiyoko is giggling with excitement and that is enough for Atsumu to be in ridiculously high spirits and so when Hinata calls shots he’s right there with him. All their hard work has paid off and Sakusa has blissfully given him the next day off. Maybe he is finally getting nicer? Or maybe it's Atsumu all too hopeful imagination but either way an hour in and he is on cloud nine. After an intense conversation with Oikawa where Atsumu explains to him very clearly that he has to tell Iwaizumi exactly how in love he is with him he looks around for Sakusa. Suddenly finding it weird to not be by the man's side as he usually is, the room spins slightly as he cranes his neck trying to find a glimpse of black curls but they are nowhere to be seen and so he turns tail and goes towards the bathrooms. It’s when he’s halfway down a carpeted corridor that he sees Sakusa leaning against the wall, hands tangled in his hair and Atsumu can just hear him quietly murmuring to himself. “Omi?” The man in question whips his head around and for a second looks almost vulnerable before his stoic expression returns. ‘You good?” Sakusa merely nods but as Atsumu approaches he decides he absolutely isn’t good. He looks shaky and exhausted and Atsumu just knows that these weeks of madness and working himself to the brink of breakdown have caught up to him. And so before Atsumu can stop himself, tequila-induced confidence has him reaching for Sakusa’s hand. “We’re going to get you home okay?” He expects some rebuttal but none comes, Sakusa just nods weakly. He doesn’t move his hand out of Atsumu’s even as he calls the cab and even as they walk towards the exit. In fact, he only lets go when they are nearing the doors and he finally jolts away as if he’s only just remembered himself. They walk to the cab in silence and the quiet remains until they come to a halt outside Sakusa’s building. Atsumu gets out after Sakusa, who gives him a questioning look. In lieu of a proper reply Atsumu simply says, “just wanted to check you get in okay. You did incredibly today, everything was perfect Omi.” He hears Sakusa mutter something about not calling him that which tugs a smile to his lips. He knows as soon as Sakusa is making jibes at his expense he is back to normal. “Thank you Miya.” Atsumu knows that it’s his cue to leave but as he gazes at Sakusa bathed in the city light and feels alcohol thrum in his veins he can’t help himself. He’s leaning forward instinctively and for a moment Sakusa moves towards him too as if he wants their lips to touch just as badly as Atsumu does but just before they do he’s pulling back, expression unreadable. Atsumu’s heart drops. “Goodnight.” That is all Sakusa offers before turning and walking into his building and fuck Atsumu knows this is going to be a mess tomorrow and yet all he wants to do is run in after the man that he is all too quickly falling for. When he finally manages to sleep that night his alcohol-riddled brain dreams vivid fantasies of Sakusa and Atsumu knows he is well and truly fucked. The feeling of dread that sits heavy in Atsumu’s stomach the next morning is an instant reminder of the night before and he audibly groans into his pillow, he hasn’t got work today but that almost makes it worse. At least if he could just wake up and go see Sakusa and get it over with maybe it’d all be better but instead, he’s left alone with his thoughts. Rolling onto his back he stares at the ceiling, before blindly reaching for his phone. He’s still half asleep so he can only stare in confusion at the fifty notifications from various people lighting up his phone. His stomach swoops with worry yet again. What the fuck has happened now? On instinct, the first message he opens is Osamu’s, which just reads... I THOUGHT U DIDN’T LIKE HIM HUH???? And beneath it is a link to one of the most high-profile celebrity gossip pages, the title bearing words that make Atsumu almost faint in fear. 'Designer Sakusa Kiyoomi Caught Hand in Hand With His Assistant: Is This the Secret Romance We’ve All Been Waiting For?' The picture under the headline is blurry as if someone had taken it hastily but there’s still no denying it. What’s worse is he can just make out his own expression and he’s looking at Sakusa like he’s fretting over him in the most incriminatingly affectionate way. Opening the rest of the messages it’s the same thing from his friends back home and colleagues too. Kiyoko is, of course, worried and Hinata is curious and Oikawa has simply messaged him saying to take his own advice and just go for it. But not a word from Sakusa. He’s so close to crying, the very thought that he might be responsible for Sakusa’s first scandal makes guilt pool in his gut. The man will never look at him the same after this. He’ll have lost Sakusa and all the little fractures he’s made in his walls will seal back up, rendering Atsumu just another stranger to him all over again. It’s only them hand in hand but Atsumu knows how this industry is and it'll definitely be enough for a full-blown media frenzy to evolve. Atsumu isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol from last night or the pain in his chest at the thought of losing Sakusa but before long he’s gagging over the toilet seat, eyes stinging with tears as he vomits up the contents of his stomach. When he finally can stand on steady feet again, he showers and gets dressed and takes a moment to consider what the fuck he should do. Calling Sakusa is probably the right answer but he doesn’t want to face the consequences, just yet. So he sits next to the window, taking shaky sips from his coffee while ignoring the buzzes from his phone as he wonders what on earth he should do next. If last night hadn’t already been messy enough considering Atsumu had really gone and tried to kiss him, then it was bad now. He decides at that moment that he has to go fix it in person. He wants to see Sakusa so badly and at least this way maybe Atsumu will be able to convince him not to kick him out of his life for good. He tries his best to look half decent but the madness of yesterday along with the pure worry of the day ahead leaves him looking less than his best. Though at this point nothing matters other than getting to Sakusa as quickly as possible and so before long he’s calling a taxi, the worry in his stomach growing with every passing minute. By the time he’s in the lobby, coffee and almond croissant in hand as a sort of peace gesture, his nerves have left him almost on the verge of fainting. He’s suddenly so uncertain, perhaps Atsumu will slam the door in his face the minute he sees him, or perhaps he’ll fire him on the spot or… He’s broken out of his musings as the man sat at the desk speaks, “Sir, are you here to see someone?” “Oh uh yes Sakusa Kiyoomi.” The man nods before picking up the phone on the desk and muttering some words into it before he nods towards Atsumu and tells him he can go. The lift up to the ninth floor feels like a whole lifetime and Atsumu considers turning back and locking himself into his room for a couple of months at least five times. In some ways, it would be so much easier but the thought of not seeing Sakusa for that long makes knots tie in his stomach. The thought keeps him moving until he’s standing outside Sakusa’s door. Heart beating far too fast and his hands already starting to sweat at the thought of having to face rejection. He can’t help the wry laugh that leaves his lips as he thinks of what a mess this has all become. When he’d started he never would have guessed just how much his life would change all down to a man he had thought he would hate. Oh, how naive he was. Finally, he musters the courage to ring the doorbell, seconds passing slowly as he fidgets with the hem of his coat. Wondering what words will work best. In fact, he’s so lost in his thoughts that he barely realises that Sakusa has opened the door till they make eye contact. “I’m so sorry”, he blurts it out instantly and he isn’t even sure what he’s apologising for. The almost kiss last night? The headlines of today? The fact he’s turned up unannounced? Sakusa doesn’t reply, just holds the door back, motioning for Atsumu to come in. The apartment is, of course, luxurious but Atsumu barely notices it. Once he’s seated on Sakusa’s sofa facing the man he so desperately wants to hold onto he’s overcome with anger at the industry he’s in. He can’t help but imagine a different world where Sakusa was just some person and Atsumu could feel these feelings without guilt. A world where Sakusa didn’t always look exhausted, didn’t always seem so closed off, and where he was allowed to just exist as he pleased. A world where Atsumu could tell him how he feels without a million and one cameras on them. He wishes the world was simpler. Sakusa won’t meet his eye and Atsumu doesn’t know what to say and so he just takes the moment to drink him in. Hair still messy from sleep, t-shirt hanging off his shoulder slightly, he’s even wearing sweatpants. Atsumu decides he likes this version of Sakusa far more and for a fleeting moment he imagines what it would be like to just be allowed into Sakusa’s real-life not the one he’s playing a role in every day. “I’m sorry”, he tries again and Sakusa finally looks at him. “Okay.” Atsumu feels his heartache. He’s lost him, he’s closed himself off all over again. “Omi please.” He isn’t even sure what he’s pleading for but he just can’t bear to watch Sakusa withdraw into himself after all this time. “Why are you here?” “I just wanted to check that you were okay? And apologise.” Sakusa’s expression is devoid of emotion, there’s not even a tilt of his head to suggest what he’s thinking. “Right well I don’t really have the time for this because I am about to have to start mitigating the collateral damage of your actions and single-handedly get every media outlet to stop publishing articles about me.” “I can help?” He sounds so desperate and so earnest even to his own ears and it’s almost embarrassing but he can’t find it within himself to care. “No, I don’t think so. You can leave.” Atsumu wants to stay. He wants to wrap Sakusa up in his arms and protect him from anything that might hurt him but he’s already done so much damage and he’s terrified of doing anymore. “Okay”, he whispers and stands up. Praying as he walks away that Sakusa is going to call his name and at least just let them solve this together. “Oh and Miya?” He whips around, for a moment hopeful. “You’re fired.” The rage that hits him, is almost a shock to himself. Osamu always did say he lost his grip on his temper when someone he cares about hurts him. And so he turns around, tears already beginning to sting his eyes. The words rise to his mouth so quickly he doesn’t have a chance to filter them before they are spilling out in a torrent of hurt. “Do you know what, fuck you Omi. You’re going to spend your whole life lonely and unfulfilled and when ten or twenty years down the line you realise you’ve pushed everyone away and there’s no one else left I hope you remember it's no ones fault other than your own and that I genuinely cared about you and that you lost me.” The shock on Sakusa’s face will remain imprinted in his memory for weeks to come but in that moment all he does is slam the door, only just managing to get to the lift before he’s fully sobbing.   ~   He goes back home. It’s the only thing that feels right and Osamu lets him sit in his bed and cry and doesn’t even pry as Atsumu falls apart totally. The bitter irony is, as it turns out, he was the longest standing assistant in the history of the company but there’s no sense of triumph. Atsumu feels totally empty. His mother strokes his hair and watches tv with him and his father brings back his favourite food from the store. Suna and him play Mario Kart and Aran takes him on several long mountain walks where they talk about everything and nothing. Atsumu is overwhelmed by how hurt he is but no matter how much he tries to rationalise the pain, it doesn’t get much better. Over the course of three months, he had fallen head over heels for Sakusa and had barely noticed. He was always a bit slow to catch onto his own feelings till they hit him full force. It was something Osamu had always teased him about but in truth, Osamu has never once been wrong about anything when it comes to Atsumu’s emotions. There’s not a single word from Sakusa. Kiyoko rings him and they talk for hours, she tells him Sakusa isn’t eating, barely sleeps and is refusing to get a new personal assistant and Atsumu wish he could just laugh it off and call him a drama queen but the very thought of Sakusa not being okay makes his stomach churn. She promises she’s going to do everything in her power to make sure he’s okay but it’s the last minute of their conversation that sticks with Atsumu. “He misses you.” “Don’t be stupid.” “No he does, I can tell. You were the only person in years to make him come out of his shell even if just a little bit. When this is all over, you’ll come back right? Atsumu, he needs you.” He doesn’t know whether to believe her. Sakusa made his choice and it was to remove him from his life for good. That's pretty much the most comprehensive answer anyone can give. But of course, he still hopes. There’s that ever-present belief in the back of his mind that maybe he hasn’t lost him for good. He even facetimes Hinata and Oikawa, they distract him with gossip from the office and Oikawa goes on a long recount of his sexual escapades with Iwaizumi. They tell him that everyone at the office misses him and they speak about the whole situation as if he’ll just be back in a couple of weeks, not that he’s gone forever. He feels blessed to be able to speak to them, to get a glimpse into how Sakusa’s doing. The tabloid coverage has died down and without any way to contact the man, Atsumu knows he would be going insane if he didn’t know anything about Sakusa’s wellbeing. Every night without fail he thinks about calling or even getting a late-night train all the way back just to get one last look at Sakusa. It's pathetic and he’s never been so hung up on anyone ever before but he can't even find the strength in himself to try and fight it. Months pass. He works in a quiet little 7/11, his love for fashion jaded now. Everything about it reminds him of Sakusa and he cannot stand it. And so for a while, it's like his whole world has suddenly stood still, life is slow and easy, maybe not fulfilling but for now Atsumu decides it will do. By the time Autumn arrives and the air is crisper Atsumu thinks he might just be slightly better, he’s not healed but time has done its work as it always does. The humid days of summer have passed in a blur of late-night shifts and drinking with high school friends. It was simple. And so on a cold and bright October day Atsumu decides to move back to his apartment, back to the city where it all began. Osamu takes him to the station and hugs him for a little longer than usual and when they finally part he looks like he might cry. “What yer getting emotional for?”, Atsumu says roughly trying to hide the emotion in his own voice. “Just don’t get hurt again ya muppet”, Osamu fires back but he’s smiling now. Atsumu waves the whole time as the train moves down the platform, not stopping till Osamu is only a speck in the distance. Walking into his apartment feels weird as if it’s been trapped in limbo all this time. It looks almost exactly the same but everything feels different, offset as if the whole world has shifted ever so slightly. The only suggestion that time has passed is the thin layer of dust that has managed to settle onto almost every surface, a reminder that things have changed. He gets a job at a small fashion magazine, it’s a reminder of before but it’s enough for him to gently ease his way back into the industry without having a breakdown. The work is fine, not exciting, not life-changing, just fine. He doesn't tell Kiyoko or the rest that he’s back yet, he just needs time he decides. Life passes by as it always does, the days getting shorter and the nights colder and Atsumu continues along but it’s on one deceptively ordinary day that everything changes once again. “Hey, Tsumu!” It’s Yamaguchi, one of the only colleagues here that he can actually stand. “Yeah, what’s up?” “We’ve been allowed to send one of our journalists to the Winter Ball this year and higher-ups said you should do it since you worked for Sakusa!” It’s an incredible opportunity but Atsumu feels himself shudder, it’s one of those events where everyone who is everyone is there which means one thing. The possibility of seeing Sakusa. Yamaguchi is watching intently waiting for a response and Atsumu knows he can’t really reject this offer unless he wants to do a lot of explaining and so he just nods and musters up a smile. He spends the rest of the day listening to Yamaguchi’s excited chatter about how lucky he is and how he’ll have to tell him all the gossip when he’s back. Despite himself, when the night of the event rolls around, there is a little part of him that’s excited. Sure he’s also absolutely terrified but there’s another part of him that still clings onto the sentiment of what if? Which is why he spends three hours picking an outfit and even longer on his appearance. He’s just trying to reach the standard of everyone who’s going to be there, okay, definitely not to impress anyone in particular. He knows he’s being stupid there isn’t any reason to even assume Sakusa will be there. By the time he arrives at the venue, he has to admit he has missed the opulence and madness of it all just a bit. It's still the world he always wanted to be a part of and he can’t shift the child within him that still clamours with excitement as he watches people swan past in designer shift dresses and suits. It’s bizarre socialising without Sakusa by his side, in every situation before this he’s been a backdrop to the main event and having people address him directly still feels totally foreign. But by the time he’s a little tipsy, it feels natural, so natural in fact that when he sees Akaashi out the corner of his eye he can’t help himself. He walks over, emboldened by the alcohol. “It’s been a while Akaashi- san.” The man gives him a subtle smile. “How nice to see you here, I wasn't sure if I would be seeing you again. Those headlines back in Spring truly were something hm?” Atsumu pushes down the wave of nausea the very thought brings and instead sends Akaashi a playful smile. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be seen fraternizing with someone with a scandal to their name”, he jokes and Akaashi laughs lightly tilting his head as if he’s observing something. “Oh no, I think it makes the person all the more interesting. In fact, I can’t believe Sakusa would let a pretty thing like you get away, I certainly wouldn’t have.” His voice barely moves above a murmur and Atsumu keeps their eyes locked the whole time they speak. He knows this is petty but some small part of his hopes Sakusa is here and hopes he sees every interaction. “Well, Sakusa hasn’t got me now has he?” “No, very true. You know me and my husband Bokuto are always looking to indulge in a third in the bedroom…” Atsumu feels his heart beat harder and he sends Akaashi a soft smirk before leaning in to whisper into the shell of his ear. “Well, I’d be more than willing to join.” It’s as he’s pulling back that he sees him. There in the crowd looking as beautiful as the day he first met him, Sakusa Kiyoomi in all his glory. And Atsumu realises all at once that he isn’t over him at all. Not one bit. They hold each other's gaze for what could have been seconds but feels like a whole lifetime. Atsumu can feel every memory resurfacing unbidden and god it hurts a little too much. When he finally turns back to Akaashi, the man rolls his eyes slightly but smiles nevertheless. “I think you have a prior engagement”, he quips before gently motioning towards Sakusa, and then he’s disappearing into the crowd. Turning back Atsumu looks at Sakusa once again and the man is still staring at him and so before he can lose his nerve he walks over to him and musters up as much fake confidence as he can. Faking confidence is the one talent Atsumu is absolutely sure he’s pretty much mastered at this point. “Long time no see Omi- Omi.” “Atsumu?” He sounds disbelieving as if Atsumu is only a mirage or a figment of his own imagination. “The one and only.” He cringes at himself, it seems he still hasn’t shifted his one classic defense mechanism of trying to joke or flirt his way out of every difficult situation. It’s only after he’s finished being embarrassed about himself that he realises that Sakusa had used his first name and a whole new wave of emotions washes over him, so sudden it makes him shiver. Up close Sakusa looks rough. Dark circles heavy under his eyes and his skin far paler than Atsumu remembers it. The worry creeps in instantly but he’s broken out of his musings as Sakusa beings to speak. “What the fuck was Akaashi saying to you?” Atsumu is shocked by how emotionally charged Sakusa sounds but can’t help the glee he feels as he realises that this is the perfect opportunity to get to Sakusa, make him have a taste of his own medicine if you will. Atsumu figures if he’s had to hurt this much what’s wrong with leveling the playing field slightly? “Oh just inviting me to join him and his husband for well.. y’know.” The look of anger that flashes across Sakusa’s face is exactly the reaction Atsumu wanted and he smirks back, refusing to give in to the feelings that are telling him to take care of Sakusa and check he’s okay. “Did you agree?” Atsumu loves how Sakusa is trying to sound nonchalant and yet is totally failing. “Well I did but what happens next all really depends on you.” Sakusa doesn’t respond, just grabs a glass off a passing tray and all but downs it. “I can’t deal with this tonight”, he murmurs. “Feelings mutual”, Atsumu mutters back. “You’re so difficult you know that?” “Right back at you.” Atsumu is ready to do this all night but the next sentence catches him completely off guard. “Come back to mine?” He doesn't even know what the implications are but he finds himself nodding regardless. Even if Sakusa's just doing it to keep him out of Akaashi's grasp he'd still agree. The embarrassing truth is Sakusa could ask him to fly halfway across the world and he would probably run to the airport and empty his bank account just to be there when he asked. ~ Osamu did always say Atsumu was impulsive and prone to mistakes when his heart was involved. And admittedly he does know everything about this situation is probably going to cause immense regret down the line but the moment Sakusa looks at him with something akin to lust all those reservations go flying out the door. The journey back to Sakusa’s place had passed in silence, Atsumu doesn’t know what he’d say anyway. He has so many thoughts but whenever he tries to think of how he’d voice them it all becomes far too much to navigate and he just gives up. It’s only when they are in the lift up to Sakusa’s apartment that Sakusa finally speaks. “All you have to understand is there are no feelings involved, okay? We fuck this out of our systems and be done with it.” Atsumu nods not really processing Sakusa’s words, his body already flushed with heat. This is undoubtedly a terrible idea but the thought of being able to touch Sakusa is enough to have Atsumu pushing all his reservations aside. Neither of them is drunk, he's sure of that but they are not sober either. Ultimately, this is a disaster waiting to happen but that doesn't stop them tumbling through the door of Sakusa’s apartment, Atsumu’s hands already desperately seeking out the warmth of Sakusa’s skin. And god it's been too long and he's missed him far too much. Everything happens so quickly, he’s being pushed up against the now-closed door before he can even begin to process the weight of the situation and Sakusa is there. Kissing up his neck slowly and when he stops to suck slightly, it is enough to have Atsumu’s knees buckling beneath him. But wherever Sakusa kisses he never strays higher than his neck and Atsumu is reminded of what this is for him, a means to an end. Every movement is diligent, precise, and perfect but it’s devoid of intimacy all at the same time. There’s no emotion to it as if Sakusa is holding back the whole time whilst still giving Atsumu enough of what he wants. Just enough but also nothing, all at the same time. Atsumu feels himself shiver and gasps with every touch and he thinks he feels the soft curve of a smile against the skin of his neck before Sakusa says. “Good boy." He doesn’t mean to let out the whine but it happens anyway, praise always did go straight to his head. He hates how Sakusa already knows exactly what to do, exactly the way to tug at his hair, bite at his shoulder, and whisper about how good he’s doing. Atsumu knows he’s going to get hurt because whether he likes it or not he's in much deeper than he should be but if he has to pretend to be apathetic to get Sakusa to touch him like this then that’s a price he’s willing to pay. After Sakusa seems to have decided he’s made enough of a mess of him he pulls them into his bedroom which of course is just as opulent as the rest of the apartment but that isn't really what Atsumu is focused on right now. “Strip”, it’s a command and Atsumu complies without hesitation. Adoring the way that Sakusa won’t take his eyes off him for a second. His critical gaze is suddenly more than welcome and Atsumu tenses under it slightly, his whole body anticipating what’s to come. And yet there it is again; every touch clinical, with no affection beneath it. Atsumu wishes it could be passionate, charged by feelings that are reciprocated but he supposes this will be as good as he can get. He stares at the ceiling for a moment, a strange sadness creeping in before he can stop it but he’s drawn out of his thoughts quick enough as a hand ghosts over his thigh before fingers are digging into his skin and he's moaning Sakusa's name. “Omi”, it’s barely a whisper and for once Sakusa does not rebuke the nickname. The next few minutes pass in a blur of pleasure. Sakusa fingers him open, slowly and diligently. Every touch is fire against Atsumu’s skin and if he could just freeze time and stay here forever he knows he would. The urge to press their lips together is so insanely strong but he suppresses it, nothing good will come from it and whatever he does he doesn’t want to scare Sakusa away. “You're doing so good for me”, Sakusa murmurs the praise and Atsumu simply whimpers as he grinds down onto Sakusa’s fingers desperate for more but more of what he’s not entirely sure. Being this vulnerable around a man that probably doesn't even care about him may be the single most stupid thing Atsumu has ever done but it doesn’t stop him from begging Sakusa for more. He wants to touch him so bad, to reciprocate in any way he can but somehow he already knows Sakusa won't let him. He resigns himself to that fact, the only thing he is allowed is to watch and commit every single moment to memory. “Omi-Omi”, he whines, eyes rolling back into his head as Sakusa hits his prostate and doesn’t stop till he’s a completely incoherent mess. Of course, he’s good at this just as he’s perfect at everything else. It’s almost annoying but Atsumu can't find it in him to be resentful since he knows he’s on the brink of one of the best orgasms of his life. When Sakusa finally withdraws, Atsumu realises he’s still fully clothed and barely looks affected and all Atsumu wants to do is bury himself in the covers in embarrassment because here he is naked and flushed, coming undone because of Sakusa’s ministrations. Hardly a fair fight he decides. He desperately wants to undress Sakusa, take his time undoing his clothes worshiping every inch of skin he can touch but all he can do is watch as Sakusa pulls off his own clothes. And even if this isn't happening the way he would have wanted, it doesn't stop him from drinking in Sakusa’s body. He’d always been annoyed that Sakusa was taller than him but right now Atsumu doesn’t mind one bit. He always looks so elegant, clothes falling just the right way on him but seeing him topless allows Atsumu to realise just how broad he is and he promptly forgets how to really think. Sakusa walks over to him, fingers coming to tilt Atsumu’s chin up as he asks, “You okay?” Atsumu just groans and grabs his arm to pull him onto the bed. He just needs to be closer to him, until he can no longer tell where he ends and Sakusa begins. “Behave”, Sakusa mutters as he pulls away and Atsumu just gazes up at him as he removes his boxers and rolls on a condom. Part of him still can’t believe this is happening but as Sakusa finally pushes in the pleasure and pain are visceral enough to bring him crashing down to reality and he moans into Sakusa’s shoulder as the man bottoms out. “Fuck Kiyoomi”, he can barely get the words out and to his satisfaction, he hears Sakusa groan too. The way Sakusa rolls his hips has Atsumu seeing stars and he barely has the strength to respond as Sakusa moves him onto his hands and knees and thrusts back in all over again. He fucks with so much purpose it’s sending Atsumu mad, the hand on his waist gripping so tightly and Atsumu prays it leaves marks. Anything just so he can have a reminder of tonight, anything tangible he can cling onto. Before long he's pushing back to meet Sakusa’s thrusts again and again and again, his brain desperately pleading for more. “Omi-Omi touch me, fuck, touch me please”, Sakusa ignores him and just goes harder than before. Atsumu’s writhing on the sheets now, the pleasure almost reaching pain as he desperately tries to grind down and get some relief but to no avail. “I hate you, so mean to me”, he slurs and finally Sakusa moves his hand to wrap around Atsumu’s cock. It’s embarrassing how quickly he’s on the brink, the knowledge that this is Sakusa ruining him is enough to get him unbearably close. And as Sakusa tightens his grip and begins to move his hand Atsumu is coming so hard his vision blurs and he feels the hot burn of tears streaming down his face. “Omi”, is all he manages. The waves of pleasure finally begin to lessen as he almost collapses onto the bed but before he can there’s a hand on his waist holding him up and Sakusa begins to fuck into him again, rougher than before and messier, his rhythm stuttering as he groans and sinks his head into the crook of Atsumu’s shoulder. Atsumu trembles as Sakusa’s grip tightens on him for the last time before they are both collapsing down onto the bed. Heavy breathing filling the room. As they lie there some minutes later, Atsumu basking in the presence of the man he has clearly failed at getting over he can’t help himself as he blurts out, “why are you so against relationships?” Sakusa looks at him like he’s just said something incredibly half-witted. “I can’t have a love life. My work is everything, no distractions.” Atsumu knows the pain is coming before it hits, this is going nowhere and he has to accept that. Sakusa is about as far from relationship material as is physically possible. This is going to end in heartache and tears if he doesn’t stop himself from falling any further but it’s so hard. He suddenly feels incredibly stupid for even agreeing to this, it was clearly never going to end in anything other than rejection for him. “So this is it?” Sakusa nods, refusing to meet his eye. “We just needed closure that’s all”, he says resolutely. Atsumu doesn't like the implications of that. If all Sakusa needs for closure is sex then he never liked him beyond anything superficial and Atsumu really does not want to consider just how unreciprocated his feelings might be. And so he reverts back to his tried and tested defense mechanism of just making everything into a joke. “And closure was to fuck my brains out, huh?” “Stop being vulgar.” “Me being vulgar? If I remember rightly you were just balls deep in-” Sakusa cuts him off with a glare and for a moment Atsumu almost feels like he’s back to the start. Where his daily mission was to annoy Sakusa to the point where he’d snap back and Atsumu would get that sudden sense of satisfaction from eliciting a response. “I see you haven’t changed at all.” “Neither have you, still cold and rude as always.” At that moment, he registers that he has a totally newfound freedom because Sakusa can no longer threaten him with being fired. Finally, he can say anything he pleases. “Still suppressing your emotions too.” “That’s none of your concern anymore though is it Atsumu?” And oh that stings a little. “Maybe not but someone never got another personal assistant, really that hung up on me are we Omi-Omi?” He’s teasing but the sentiment of his words holds true as ever. “No, I just realised they were too much of a liability after you.” “Ouch, that’s a low blow, I was literally looking after you not my fault the media are insane”, he mutters back slightly annoyed. “I know”, Sakusa says softly and there’s the slightest pang of regret in his tone. “I just couldn’t risk my career, you understand that. I couldn't choose you over my empire.” And there it is, the previously unspoken words that underpin everything. Atsumu wasn’t enough for Sakusa to tarnish his reputation and of course why should he be. He’s completely right his business comes first and why would he choose a man he had known for only three months over that. And anyway Atsumu still has no proof he even ever liked him beyond some sort of superficial interest, the only indicator being that one moment where their lips had for an instant almost touched all those months ago. A small moment to pin so much hope on. “Did you miss me?” Atsumu turns to gaze at Sakusa, whose black curls are framed perfectly by the stark white of his bed sheets. He looks so young and vulnerable and the protective instinct rushes to Atsumu without warning. “I did.” “Thank god.” What’s that meant to mean?” “I would have thrown myself out of the window if you said no.” “Stop being dramatic.” “Omi you have no idea how hard this has been for me.” “And you have no idea how I’ve been either.” They lock eyes, both knowing they are being way too vulnerable for two people who just agreed that this was a closure fuck with no feelings involved. “You don’t have any emotions, remember?”, Atsumu teases trying to diffuse the tension that is now thick in the air. “And you have too many.” Atsumu pouts and Sakusa chuckles at him slightly. He wishes they could stay here like this forever. Every time he leaves one of these moments, Sakusa slips out of his grasp and he has to try and climb his walls all over again. “Can we at least be friends?” “You know we can't be.” “Why?” “This is all too complicated already.” “But I want you in my life”, he sounds desperate even to his own ears. “What we want doesn’t matter Atsumu.” “So you did want me?” Silence descends and before he can stop himself Atsumu finds Sakusa’s hand and curls their fingers together. “Please just tell me. You got your closure now give me mine.” “Of course I did.” Atsumu lets out a shaky breath and for the millionth time wishes the world was different and they could have met in ordinary circumstances where Sakusa didn’t have to be so entirely untouchable. “Why can’t you just let me see what’s going on in that crazy brain of yours huh?” Sakusa just huffs out a slight breath of laughter but offers no explanation and Atsumu wonders if he will ever get one. “You should probably leave.” “Wow, Omi-Omi what a great host, kicking me out as soon as you’re done with me.” He jokes because if for a minute he lets himself take the situation seriously he knows he’ll break apart completely. “Atsumu”, Sakusa says sternly and so he gets out of the bed collecting his stuff as Sakusa watches him silently. He doesn't get his hopes up. Doesn’t wait for his name to be called. He knows this time where this is going and he resigns himself to it. At least he knows now that for a fraction of a moment Sakusa had felt the same way. It’s certainly not closure but maybe it’ll be enough. There are no more words spoken between them but just before Atsumu walks out of the bedroom door he turns back one last time to look at Sakusa who's sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window with the same resignation painted on his face that Atsumu knows is on his own. He can’t fight for someone that doesn’t want to be fought for he decides and so he turns around and walks out. He doesn’t cry, no screaming, no anger, just an ever-present sense of numbness that he can't seem to shift. He doesn't sleep that night but stays up sitting on the floor of his apartment till the dawn chorus starts and the sun rises. Atsumu still remembers how his mother swore by the age-old saying that a change is as good as a rest. It was why he went home for that long, lazy summer and it’s why when he gets a call from Akaashi one late February morning wondering if he would like a job he agrees instantly. Well, that reason and also because the events of that night with Sakusa have left him far more broken than he could ever have anticipated but also suddenly all the more dismissive of the little voice inside him that demands he care about Sakusa. He had not shown him the same courtesy. The switch is easy, the magazine he worked for is just excited that he’s moving to yet another designer workforce. He promises Yamaguchi that he’s going to give him as many gossip updates as he possibly can. He can’t shift the ever-present resentment over how tumultuous his life has been recently but he supposes it will all work as a welcome distraction. And if taking this job sort of works as revenge, then who is Atsumu to complain? His first day sees him in a navy suit and silk shirt, knowing exactly how good he looks and he cannot wait for the field day the gossip pages are going to have after seeing Sakusa Kiyoomi’s ex-personal assistant at none other than Akaashi Keiji’s offices. Maybe it’s not exactly the name he thought he was going to make for himself but it’s still something, and memorable at that. The work proves to be similar and in an odd way, it’s comforting, although not a personal assistant this time but a member of Akaashi’s team. Of course, he’s made insanely busy which is just perfect because it means Atsumu doesn’t have to think about anything other than completing his tasks of the day. Whether that’s helping with fittings, booking venues, ordering obscene amounts of iced coffees, or sweet-talking clients it all comes as naturally as it had the first time around. The weeks pass in a blur and he finds himself relatively content, he’s doing what he loves and this time he’s not awkwardly in love with his boss which is always a plus. There are days where he almost doesn’t think about Sakusa. I mean there was the time he played Folklore on repeat for the course of a whole night, sobbing to Taylor Swift's vocals but he’s not going to dwell on that mishap. In fact, he’s happily suppressing any thoughts of those times until Kiyoko calls him late one Wednesday night. She’s straight to the point as always. “You’re working for Akaashi now?”, she doesn’t sound angry, just curious and slightly shocked. “Yeah funny how times change.” There’s silence and Atsumu knows there’s a lot she wants to say but she’s wondering whether it’s her place. She seems to decide that honesty is the best policy. “Sakusa hasn’t taken it well.” “I really couldn't care less.” “Atsumu”, she tries but he cuts her off. “No, Kiyoko I don’t care. I’m not going to try and explain but he doesn’t deserve my sympathy.” She sighs and he can tell she’s not going to try and push it any further. “Well done for the job, it’s a great position. We all miss you though.” Atsumu smiles softly. “I miss you guys too.” There really isn't much left to say and they both know that. He wants to ask about Yachi and Tanaka or whether Hinata has managed to set fire to anything with the office toaster again but it all feels like too much of a reminder of what he’s lost so all that happens is they exchange some final pleasantries and then he hangs up. It’s as he’s sitting there trying to process it all that he suddenly realises it’s been a year since it all began. Funny how time passes you by so quickly and yet feelings take so long to fade, a rather cruel irony. Oh, how wrong he had been to think that he could hate Sakusa. They say the line between love and hate is a fine one and seemingly one that Atsumu can’t navigate all that well. ~ And then the fateful moment of course arrives. A showing of some Chanel pieces that he and a couple of other members of Akaashi’s team are attending, one that undoubtedly Sakusa will be present for. It seems Atsumu is making a habit of not seeing Sakusa for months until finally catching a painful glimpse of him at some event. Of course, he spends a little longer getting ready, and yes maybe he goes to the hair salon the day before just so he looks nothing short of immaculate but it’s just to show Sakusa that he’s moved on alright? And if he maybe picks out an outfit in that same deep petrol that Sakusa had dressed him in for the first time then so be it. Osamu would call it simp behaviour, Atsumu would call it tactfully one-upping an opponent. Sakusa is there, of course looking nothing short of ethereal. Atsumu nods at him and Sakusa merely stares back coldly. He’s practiced apathy long enough that he manages to mostly ignore the sadness that tries to well up inside him. However, the icing on the cake of vengeance is that Atsumu is sat next to Akaashi and of course the man spends much of the event whispering thoughts to him and he knows Sakusa is watching their every move. Akaashi is fascinating, over time Atsumu has seen many more aspects of him than those that are apparent to the casual observer. He has come to realise the seductive, nonchalant facade is just that. Once you’ve made your way past his exterior, Akaashi is incredibly intelligent and observant but also quite caring and witty at times, and the way his eyes soften when he talks about Bokuto, now that’s enough to make Atsumu almost cry. The offer has remained open for Atsumu to join them but he continues to decline. No matter how many times he tells himself he’s moved on, the notion of sleeping with the enemy still hasn't left him. For some reason, his heart still tells him it would be a betrayal against Sakusa, not that he should really care but alas. He spends far too long pondering the thought of being able to trust your partner so much that your sex life can remain open. It’s something Atsumu respects so much and the bitter pang of jealousy won’t leave him whenever he thinks about the openness Akaashi and Bokuto must share, an openness he was never given from Sakusa. Such thoughts leave him even more on the warpath than before so he makes sure to smile and laugh with Akaashi as much as possible. Sakusa’s face remains impassive but Atsumu has a gut feeling that he isn't actually as apathetic as he is trying to appear. Good, he thinks spitefully, let him stand there and watch the whole thing. Akaashi leans over as he notices Atsumu’s staring, “trying to upset him are we?” His smile is ever so slightly mischievous and Atsumu nods back. “You know I love toying with him and even though you still won't tell me what happened between you two, I’m happy to put on a show if that’s what you want?” Atsumu exchanges a sly look with him. They definitely bring out the worst in each other. Like two naughty schoolboys rather than a boss and his employee but Atsumu loves that Akaashi is so willing to play mind games with him. “Revenge is sweet I guess”, he quips back and Akaashi’s eyes sparkle with mirth. Walking over to a blouse, Akaashi says perhaps slightly louder than necessary. “Tsumu you know this colour would look stunning on you.” Atsumu follows him, grinning the whole time. He can feel Sakusa’s gaze burning holes in the back of his head. “This and nothing else perhaps? Unbuttoned all the way down?” He doesn't need to speak as loudly this time as Sakusa is close to them and undoubtedly watching. “This is why they call you the genius of the fashion world”, Atsumu teases. “What can I say I have an eye for the finer things in life”, Akaashi accompanies this statement with an exaggerated up and down look of Atsumu’s body. Atsumu watches as Akaashi looks over his shoulder at where he guesses Sakusa is. “Oh… he just stalked off looking furious, a job well done if I do say so.” “You bring out the worst in me y’know.” “No, I bring out the selfish part of you. That’s not necessarily bad, you could do with being a little more selfish sometimes.” Atsumu had never considered himself a particularly selfless person but he supposes that when it comes to Sakusa he is more contentious than he probably should be. “Can I ask something?” “Go ahead”, Akaashi replies. “Why do you two not get along?” Akaashi pauses for a second, watching as Sakusa mills through the crowd of people before replying. “Well firstly we are competitors in an industry that allows for little space for success”, Akaashi takes a moment to pause before he continues, “and I suppose we are very similar in a lot of respects and I don’t think he likes that, probably a reminder of all of his own failings. Oh, and we slept together once and I told him if he keeps repressing his emotions he’s going to end up sexless and sad.” Blunt as ever Atsumu thinks amused. He had suspected something like this, this industry seems to be a constant narrative of various hookups between anyone and everyone. It’s fascinating to hear someone say exactly what he’s been thinking all this time and he wonders if anyone other than Akaashi, Kiyoko and him really know the extent of just how messy Sakusa’s relationship with his emotions is. He halts the train of thought swiftly as he realises it is only going to end up with him wondering what he could have done to make Sakusa open up. Akaashi is watching him, his gaze as analytical as ever. “It’s messy between you two.” It isn’t really a question but Atsumu nods anyway. “You really chose the wrong man to fall in love with.” “I’m not in love with him.” Akaashi raises an eyebrow and gives him a look of disbelief. “Well whatever feelings you have for him I can’t believe it’s easy.” Atsumu shrugs, nonchalance has become easy to feign now. “You’re right he’s the wrong man to fall in love with, he can’t accept his own emotions let alone other people’s.” He can’t believe that he’s talking to Akaashi of all people about his situation with Sakusa but it's weirdly cathartic nevertheless. “And yet you still keep pining over him?” “Apparently so”, he has to laugh a little. It's all such a mess, worthy of some dramatic rom-com blockbuster. He almost wishes that he was watching all this rather than experiencing it, to be nothing more than an observer sounds like total bliss. Akaashi offers no more thoughts on the matter and the rest of the day passes uneventfully. Sakusa thankfully nowhere to be seen. ~ And so it seems for a time that everything is resolved, not perfectly but Atsumu is building his career and finding his feet in the industry that had for a second seemed like it would destroy him. He doesn't try as hard to forget about Sakusa now, rather he comes to a sort of acceptance that yes he will be the first thing he thinks about when he gets up and likely the last thought before he falls asleep. As long as thoughts of high cheekbones and piercing stares don’t haunt him throughout the day then everything is reconciled just enough. He had thought, naively perhaps, that Sakusa finally telling him that night where he stands would be enough to gain some sort of closure and begin to move on properly this time around. It seems he was mistaken. And yet despite everything seemingly finally finding a new normal, there remains something off. Atsumu has always been one to trust his gut which is why when he gets the intense feeling something is going on with Sakusa he just can’t shift it. They haven’t been in contact since that night, not properly anyway; having only exchanged glances at the Chanel event and only managing to catch glimpses of one another at a couple of other gatherings. And yet the few messages he shares with Kiyoko tell him more than enough, she’s constantly worried and Atsumu can read between the lines enough that he can tell Sakusa is not doing well. He still hasn’t admitted to her anything about that night, not that Sakusa had fucked him till he cried and not that he had then proceeded to break his heart. That knowledge is for him and the 3am tears to know. The events of that night and the few times he’s seen Sakusa since have only solidified the knowledge that one, Sakusa is absolutely not okay and two, Atsumu can’t do anything about it. Neither one of these notions allow Atsumu’s mind to rest, in fact, they do the absolute opposite. And so his thoughts continue circling over everything he’s done wrong and how it all could have been so different. Over the next couple of weeks, the feeling that something is wrong doesn’t get better, it doesn’t exactly get worse either but Atsumu cannot shift the ever-present feeling that something is about to happen which is why he is still awake at 2am on a Friday night, body tense as he mulls over what possibly could be going on. Every photo he’s seen of Sakusa for weeks across various tabloids and social media pages has captured that same look in his eyes, lifeless. Kiyoko seems worried but she can’t seem to pinpoint what’s wrong this time more than other times. The issue seems to be that Sakusa never seems to fully be okay so measuring when it's worse than normal is an almost impossible task. It’s these worries that mean when Atsumu’s phone starts ringing, the light from the screen like a beacon for help, he leaps towards it instantly, somehow knowing who it'll be before he even picks up. “Sakusa?” His voice is urgent and desperate and rough from trying to sleep. There’s silence for a moment and Atsumu feels a surge of anxiety rise in his stomach unbidden. This will be the first time they’ve spoken for months and he wonders for a second if Sakusa had called him by mistake and all he’ll get in response is the sound of the empty line but then... “Atsumu can you come round?” Atsumu freezes. Sakusa sounds broken, voice frail and breathy and so scared that Atsumu is already jumping up and pulling on his shoes without a second thought as he presses the phone closer to his ear. If only he could crawl into the screen and down the line, into Sakusa’s arms without a second thought. “What’s happened, fuck what’s happened?” There’s silence and then to his pure shock Atsumu hears a sob echoing down the line and before he can comprehend what he’s doing he’s throwing open the door of his apartment and sprinting down the street. No time for waiting for a ride he decides, he has to get there. “Just stay on the line, I’m coming. Please just don’t hang up.” He hears a shaky affirmation and he runs faster than he ever has before, feet thumping against the concrete as his breathing gets more and more ragged. But nothing matters, not him, not anyone else, only Sakusa. He’s dodging around late-night revelers, past people spilling out of pubs and bars, around policemen yelling at drunkards but he’s blind to it all. He tries to keep Sakusa talking but his voice keeps fading in and out like he’s trying to retain consciousness. Now and then he mumbles something that doesn’t quite make any coherent sense and then he goes quiet completely and Atsumu almost vomits onto the street in fear. It takes him twenty minutes and by the time he comes to a halt outside of Sakusa’s apartment building his body is screaming with pain. The adrenaline has pushed him this far but as he stops he realises how exhausted he actually is but it doesn't matter, nothing else matters. He bursts into the lobby and the doorman jolts up giving him a shocked look and only now he realises how he must look. Still in his sweatpants and hoodie, sweating, breathing rapidly and when he reaches his hand to his cheek he realises it’s warm and wet with tears. “Sir?”, he sounds half angered and half concerned. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, let me into his apartment.” The man has the audacity to chuckle at him. “Excuse me? I think you’ll need to leave.” Atsumu tries to think of a way of explaining himself but all he can remember is the way Sakusa’s voice sounded, so frail it almost seemed broken. So before the doorman can react he sprints full force towards the stairs taking them two at the time as he hears loud cursing behind him. He takes the flights of stairs like a man possessed, begging down the phone for Sakusa to let him in but still no response. As he comes to the ninth floor he’s faced with the realisation that there is no way for him to get in so he settles for violently hammering at the door but to no avail. By this point the doorman has reached him, still cursing but when he sees Atsuma basically breaking down the door he stops and stares. “Listen here, what the fuck is going on?” “Please just let me in, he’s not okay, he’s hurt”, he sounds insane even to his own ears but the doorman seems to register just how distressed he is and so gives in and pulls out what Atsumu assumes is the master key. “I’ll let you in but I’m coming with you.” “Fine”, Atsumu almost screams as the seconds pass by, every single one a marker that Sakusa is still alone and in pain. The doorman unlocks the door and Atsumu bolts in. Then everything is eerily still and silent apart from his own ragged breaths. The apartment is entirely in darkness and he stumbles through the entrance towards where he hopes Sakusa will be. “Omi?”, he shouts desperately, throwing open the door to the bathroom and seeing no one. The bedroom next and still nothing. He fumbles into the living room and looks around, tears stinging his eyes until he finally sees him. Slumped against the sofa, unmoving. The only illumination comes from the window, casting his deathly pale skin in neon light. Atsumu is by his side in an instant, tears falling freely now. He can’t quite place it but everything is off. The awkward way his body is twisted as if he’s in pain, the temperature of his skin, the furrow of his brow. He looks like he’s at death's door. “Omi oh fuck, please be okay. Stay with me. I need you to stay.” And with a wave of relief, he sees that Sakusa’s chest is moving ever so slightly with small fluttering breaths. It’s then Atsumu notices the violent beat of his heart and the way his whole body is faintly trembling and so without a second thought, Atsumu grabs his phone and calls the emergency services sobbing as he gives the address. The doorman watches them with worry, pulling his own phone out. It’s only then that Atsumu finally looks around and takes in his surroundings. There’s an empty vodka bottle and the faint trace of white powder covering the coffee table. His guts churn violently and he pulls Sakusa’s head into his lap and strokes his hair off his face and begs him to stay. Praying with every inch of his being that he will be okay. It’s his fault he decides, through the blur of pain and fear. If he had just stayed, tried to fight for him a little more, not been so selfish, and not decided petty revenge was the right path then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. The signs had been there for as long as he’d known him. The not sleeping, the not eating, the unhealthy coping mechanisms. A moment like this was inevitable and Sakusa had no one to turn to, no one apart from him. The only person he had left to call was a stupid boy who didn’t know how to protect the person he loved. He stays there, stroking Sakusa’s face until the ambulance arrives and the security from downstairs have burst unceremoniously into the apartment. It’s utter chaos. The paramedics trying to lift Sakusa’s body as Atsumu, in his almost delusion, continues clinging onto him like he’ll stop breathing if he isn't by his side for even a moment. Thankfully, they let him in the ambulance and he spends the ride clenching Sakusa’s hand and whispering pleas to him. Everything is far too loud and far too bright, the noise of the sirens seems utterly deafening. Sakusa looks as if he’s already gone but every couple of seconds a feeble, desperate breath slips from his lips. In the ambulance light, his skin glistens with a slight sheen of sweat and the dark circles under his eyes are such a livid purple they almost look black. Everything after that is a blur. They won't let him into the room and so he’s forced outside in the waiting area although the minute the nurses turn their backs he moves back to sit outside the door. Eyes fixed on the handle, willing it to open with every inch of his being. Eventually, when he’s managed to start breathing controllably again he rings Kiyoko. His voice shakes the whole time and forming sentences all of a sudden feels almost impossible. She’s the only other person Atsumu trusts with this situation and in thirty minutes she’s beside him, stroking his head as he cries. “I should have known, all the signs were there. I knew he wasn’t okay, fuck”. Kiyoko shushes him and pulls him into a hug, she doesn't demand an explanation of how he knew or why he was there but just allows him to curl into her side, stroking his hair all the while. Through the blur of tears and the constant ringing of his thoughts he hears her promising him over and over again that it will all be okay. “There was nothing any of us could do, he’s been going off the rails for years but he won’t let anyone in to help him. He just thinks if his work keeps succeeding nothing else matters.” Atsumu can’t respond beyond a small, shaky, defeated breath. He thought it could have been him, the one to break down Sakusa’s walls and solve the enigma but god was he wrong. He’s always been so sure of his abilities and this confidence was rarely misplaced, he works hard and that pays off and yet this time… this time has been completely different. He simply watches the hospital bustle around him, in an almost trance-like state, the entire world feeling as if it’s playing out before him like some elaborate stage show. He can vaguely make out the sound of someone crying and a child wailing too, it's all too much with every noise threatening to send his senses into overload. It’s hours later when the doctor finally emerges from the room. They stare at him expectantly, the tension palpable in the air. “He’s going to be okay.” Atsumu can only let out a sort of half sob, half laugh in response and he watches as Kiyoko slumps against the wall with a sigh of relief. The relief doesn’t last all that long though as the next words from the doctor confirm all of Atsumu’s worst fears. “It seems it was a nasty combination of both severe alcohol poisoning and a drug overdose so he could have done permanent damage but so far it is looking like he will pull through mostly fine. We can allow you in now, he just needs to rest so no causing any disturbances, okay?” Atsumu jumps up, his body on autopilot as the doctor holds the door open for him before guiding him to the bedside. He feels his heart wrench as he looks down at Sakusa, he looks so young and so frail, his skin clammy and pale. In fact, he looks so fragile Atsumu wonders whether if he touches him he’ll shatter under his fingertips but he stifles the thought and asks instead... “Can I hold his hand?” The doctor exchanges a look with one of the nurses before nodding. They sit there for a while, Atsumu is not sure how long but Kiyoko is a comforting presence at his side. The sun rises and the slight light filters through the blinds onto the bed. Atsumu spends the next hour tracing the perfectly proportioned slithers of sunlight with his eyes, slowly and diligently as he prays to any power above that they’ll let him have Sakusa back all in one piece. Eventually, the sunlight reaches Sakusa’s face and Atsumu watches as he stirs ever so slightly. It takes a couple more minutes but eventually his eyes flutter open, slowly but surely, and Atsumu is there to meet his gaze. He thinks he’s going to cry again and to his surprise, Kiyoko stands up and says, “I’ll give you guys a moment”. She always was uncannily observant, Atsumu thinks. The doctor looks over as well before moving away to talk to one of the nurses. Sakusa is still gazing at him as if it's the first time they’ve seen each other in decades and Atsumu can’t shift the feeling that he’s come home. And then Sakusa parts his lips, a shaky breath preceding his words. “I thought I was going to die. I think I wanted to die.” That’s all it takes for Atsumu to start crying again, he had thought as much but the confirmation is agonising. He couldn’t protect Sakusa when he was at his most vulnerable, he didn’t do enough and he had almost lost him because of that. “Stop blaming yourself”, Sakusa murmurs gently. “Am not.” “I can tell, don’t lie to me. It’s no one's fault other than mine, as it turns out and I hate to admit this but you might have been right.” Atsumu tilts his head quizzically, genuinely unsure of what Sakusa is implying. “Your little dramatic speech of how if I continued pushing everyone away I would end up suffering alone.” Atsumu feels his heart tighten. “Don’t say that Omi, I didn't want to be right.” “But you were.” “I didn’t want it to take you almost killing yourself to realise that”, Atsumu replies, choking up the minute the words are out of his mouth. Sakusa shrugs slightly, “it’s just funny how things work out isn’t it?” Atsumu glares at him, he isn’t even sure how to process this information, he’s so furious at himself and deeply unsure of how any of this is going to play out for their futures but he’s sure of one thing. “You’re not allowed to leave me, you hear that? Okay? You're not. I’ll come down to hell and drag you back if I have to but you’re not leaving.” And despite everything Sakusa laughs, lips tilting upwards and eyes closing. It’s so faint it's barely there but he sounds so alive and Atsumu knows he’ll never hear a more beautiful sound. “What am I going to do with you? Stubborn to the bitter end.” Atsumu manages a watery smile and nods. “You're not getting rid of me, you can do whatever you want but I’m not going anywhere, never again.” “Okay”, Sakusa murmurs and for the first time, he sounds like he means it. He pauses for a moment as if he’s mulling something over before continuing. “Do you know this will be the first sick day I’ve ever had?”, he half jokes and Atsumu glares at him. “Don’t you dare bring up work, I will burn that entire building and every piece of clothing inside it if it means you’ll just look after yourself.” “So dramatic”, Sakusa mutters but he’s smiling ever so slightly. He falls asleep again after that and Atsumu stays by his side the whole time as Kiyoko goes to Sakusa’s apartment to pick up clothes and some necessities. The doctor seems content now to leave them and Atsumu finally feels the last dregs of adrenaline wear off and he realises just how utterly exhausted he is. Before long he’s falling asleep in his chair, hand still desperately holding onto Sakusa’s and he decides resolutely this time he isn’t going to let go.   ~   When he finally stirs, blinking his eyes open languidly, it’s many hours later and the light is hazy and warm. Sakusa is awake watching him already, his expression soft and almost affectionate. The minute he meets Atsumu’s gaze he blushes and averts his eyes. “Omi-Omi are you blushing?” “Shut up.” “Omi that’s pretty gay y’know?” Sakusa glares at him and Atsumu grins back. “You're allowed to have feelings for me, I’m irresistible so it makes sense.” “Has anyone ever told you that you’re insufferable?” “Yes you have, multiple times.” “Well, I’m telling you again.” Atsumu’s about to formulate his next comeback as the doctor taps his shoulder and pulls him aside with a serious expression. “It looks like he hasn’t been eating nearly enough, that needs to change. In fact, I would highly recommend someone lives with him for the next week or so to oversee his recovery? He’ll need to come for a couple more checkups also.” Atsumu nods, already having resolutely decided it will be him that will take care of Sakusa. He doesn't trust anyone else to do it. It’s only then that he wonders if anyone has contacted Sakusa’s family or if anyone should. He’s never heard any mention of them ever before. After one more stern look from the doctor, he sits back down beside Sakusa and recounts what the doctor has just told him. “So is there like parents I should be calling or something?” Briefly, a pained look crosses Sakusa’s face but before Atsumu can say anything more it transitions into a mirthless smile. “Oh, I’m disowned.” Atsumu can only gape at the revelation. Of course, Sakusa would be the person able to drop a piece of information like that so casually. He waits for him to elaborate, half expecting to receive no explanation but Sakusa begins to speak again. “Turns out having a gay son who wanted to be a fashion designer was a little too much for my family to take.” “Omi”, is all Atsumu manages as he grabs Sakusa’s hand instinctively. “It’s fine, I’m over all of that now.” Atsumu doesn't believe him but decides to leave it anyway, Sakusa is in no fit state to be stressing over that sort of thing. Although Atsumu finds his mind straying to just how supportive Osamu and his parents were when he had messily tried to explain to them that for him attraction had no relation to gender. How patient they had been when he tried out different labels first bisexual, then pansexual, then queer; nothing ever felt quite right. He was never one for trying to categorize himself so eventually, he just decided he liked who he liked and that was irrespective of gender. His career as well has never been anything other than a source of pride for his family, they’re always excited for every new chapter he starts. To be without that, Atsumu cannot even begin to imagine. He thinks sometime in the future he will tell Sakusa all of this but right now all he does is stroke his thumb across the skin of Sakusa’s hand. It’s comfortingly warm and a needed reminder that everything will be okay. “Neko?” The exclamation jolts Atsumu out of his reverie, grinning at how worried Sakusa looks. Of course, he’s more worried about his cat than himself. “Kiyoko’s fed her, she’s just fine. Missing you though I imagine.” Sakusa looks more content after that and Atsumu allows himself to just be grateful that the man he’s fallen for is breathing properly again, his face tinted pink and the exhaustion in his eyes slightly lessened. Atsumu can’t shift the worry that if the media gets hold of his story that Sakusa is going to crumble all over again but for now it’s not his priority. It’s only then that he realises that he’ll have to ask Akaashi for time off and he's really unsure how to go about that without incriminating Sakusa’s position in the process. He spends a fretful ten minutes wondering how to navigate the best course of action but as it turns out, Akaashi is unbelievably compliant and agrees almost instantly that he can have his workload remotely organised and reduced. Atsumu can’t place his finger on it but he’s somehow sure that Akaashi knows something. And so when he returns from the corridor after the call he still looks relatively perplexed. As he returns to the bedside, Sakusa watches him intently. “Who did you call?” “Akaashi… for time off. It’s just weird though it’s almost like he-”, he doesn’t finish the thought afraid of bringing up sensitive topics at a time like this but Sakusa is smiling slightly at him. “Oh he already knows.” Atsumu just stares at him in confusion. “I got Kiyoko to ring and tell him, always better to keep your enemies informed rather than letting them find out in other more scandalous ways.” Atsumu can’t tell whether he’s half-joking or deadly serious but at the very least it explains a lot. “Oh.” Sakusa just nods slightly, he looks vaguely amused and Atsumu can just tell he loves it when he shocks others. “They say they’re going to keep me in for one more night just to make sure everything is okay and then I can go home”, he sounds annoyed as if the notion of him not being capable and fully healthy is a personal slight against his character. “Oh and you can go home”, Sakusa says dismissively. “No, I'm staying here.” “You haven’t showered or brushed your teeth for almost a day.” “And?” “And you should go and do that.” “I’m not leaving Omi.” Sakusa sighs and fixes him with a look of exasperation. “Fine.” They sit in comfortable silence for a while before Atsumu finally gets up to go on the hunt for coffee. It comes from a machine so old it’s verging on prehistoric and tastes like dishwater but he drinks it regardless, standing in the odd hospital light as he fights for a snack out of the vending machine. It’s as he’s bending down to pick it up that he realises just how insane this whole situation is but he doesn’t dwell on it too long. There’ll be time to process everything later he decides, right now Sakusa is the only thing that matters. “I'm staying till you’re fully recovered.” “I don’t need a babysitter.” “Well, clearly you do.” Sakusa glares at him and retreats further into his nest of blankets that Atsumu had oh so kindly made him and has yet to receive a thank you for. “Don’t you have a job to be at?” “They’ve let me work from home, I already told you.” He watches Sakusa’s eyes narrow with annoyance once again. “How thoughtful of Keiji”, Sakusa says snidely and Atsumu can’t help but laugh at how petty he’s being. “Someone jealous?” “No, I’m not. Anyway, you don’t have to be here.” “I want to be.” “I’m fine”, Sakusa protests once again. Atsumu doesn’t reply just rolls his eyes and looks out the window across the cityscape beneath them, he doesn’t want to look at Sakusa for too long because he knows he’s going to inevitably blurt out something embarrassing about how cute Sakusa looks in his worn-out hoodie and blanket pile. “Well as long as you don’t go insane trying to put up with me”, Sakusa murmurs, and Atsumu just grins. “Oh no, Omi-Omi I think it’s you who’s going to go insane, anyway I brought Mario Kart.” Sakusa audibly groans. “I am not playing that game, it's literally for kids.” Two hours later and Sakusa is screaming at Atsumu whilst violently trying to suffocate him with a blanket after he blue shells him seconds before the finish line. Atsumu has never seen him so enraged ever before and it’s nothing short of hysterical. It’s also incredibly endearing but Atsumu doesn’t want to dwell on that. “And to think I thought you were good at everything, seems I’ve found your fatal flaw.” His sole purpose at that moment becomes to annoy Sakusa as much as he possibly can. It works wonderfully. Sakusa hurls the remote at his head and he only just manages to duck before it hits the sofa with a resounding thump. “Missed”, Atsumu yells gleefully, and to his surprise Sakusa all but tackles him to the floor. “You’re meant to be resting”, he tries to get out as Sakusa places all his weight on him. “If you wanted me to rest you would have got Kiyoko to look after me and yet here you are”, Sakusa retaliates. “Touche”, he giggles back, and then the whole world stills as he watches the grin blossom onto Sakusa’s face. He wants to make him smile like that for the rest of his life. No scrap that, he is going to make him smile like that for the rest of his life, and when Atsumu puts his mind to something he likes to think he always follows through. Then it happens. One moment Sakusa is tackling him and the next he’s leaning down, stopping a hair's breadth away from Atsumu’s lips, so close that he can feel the warm heat of his exhales. “Do it, I dare you”, Atsumu means to sound teasing but ends up just sounding slightly desperate but Sakusa complies anyway. His lips are so warm and Atsumu chases after them like a man possessed, slipping his tongue between them and Sakusa reciprocates instantly. In that moment he feels so entirely wanted and he realises that he’s done it. Well maybe not completely but he’s getting there, he’s undoing the enigma. Finally, breaking past the barriers and finding the man beneath it all. And yes, maybe Sakusa is far more messy, broken, and definitely slightly less mentally stable than the mirage had been but he’s real and he’s perfect. And maybe just maybe he can be Atsumu’s mess to take care of. When they break apart Atsumu gazes up at Sakusa, thumb running up and down his waist where his shirt has hitched up ever so slightly. “Will you let me stay this time?” He doesn't elaborate but he knows Sakusa understands the sentiment. It's a question of whether Sakusa will finally allow someone in for good, to allow himself to be vulnerable, and to let Atsumu help him heal all his wounds. The peaks of Sakusa’s cheeks redden slightly and he diverts his gaze. Atsumu can already tell the wheels in his brain are working overdrive trying to formulate a coherent response. “For once in your life idiot stop thinking so hard and just do what you want.” Sakusa’s blush deepens and he holds Atsumu’s gaze, all of a sudden entirely serious. “I will.” Atsumu nods and grins. “Yeah well I am a catch”, he teases and Sakusa rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “And you’re actually going to let me know what’s happening in that head of yours?”, Atsumu asks. “If you do the same.” Atsumu looks at him in confusion. “I’m not letting you lecture me on talking about my feelings Mr. I’ll tell you all about my past sexual escapades but never admit when I’m actually hurt until I absolutely have to because I think if I allow people to see some bits of me and not others I can trick them into thinking I’m being an open book.” Atsumu gapes at him, he had not realised that Sakusa had been psychoanalysing him this whole time. He doesn’t love being called out but the fact Sakusa has paid enough attention to notice this makes Atsumu’s heart flutter ever so slightly. “Or the whole game you play of let me joke my way out of ever being serious about my feelings.” “Okay fine Omi-Omi I get it, we are both shit with emotions”, Atsumu huffs. “We can work it out together”, Sakusa says softly and the only response Atsumu can think of is to press their lips together once again. The feeling of Sakusa reciprocating makes his heart soar.   ~ A couple of days later and they’ve fallen into an almost routine. Atsumu insists on doing the shopping and the cooking and the cleaning much to Sakusa’s chagrin. Every thank you is begrudging but Atsumu accepts them anyway, he knows what Sakusa’s trying to say. Atsumu does his work whilst Sakusa rests and spends the rest of his time annoying Sakusa to the point where they inevitably end up making out. There’s something about teasing Sakusa that never fails to get him slightly riled up. But then there’s the issue of sleeping arrangements. Atsumu had insisted on making his makeshift bed on the sofa. He’s not entirely sure why but despite everything, he feels like he’s intruding far too much by suggesting they sleep in the same bed. Sakusa had just shrugged and agreed and so that seemed to have solved it. But on the third night, he’s woken by the sound of incoherent mumbling coming from Sakusa’s room, it’s disjointed and slightly eerie. He pads to the door of Sakusa’s bedroom, pushing it ajar ever so slightly. Sakusa is twisted up in his bedsheets, face pulled into a pained expression as he continues murmuring incoherently. “Omi you okay?” The question falls on deaf ears as Sakusa makes a small noise of fear and Atsumu is by his side instantly, gently taking his hand and whispering. “Hey wake up.” The noise seems to disturb Sakusa even more as his body trembles and he makes another pained noise. At this point, Atsumu can’t bear to see him like this so he shakes him awake and Sakusa starts upright, his eyes wild with panic. “Tsumu”, his voice is ragged and heavy with sleep but the desperation in his voice is still apparent. “Omi, I’m here. It's okay. It was just a dream.” Sakusa still looks scared but less so, his hands still clinging onto the material of Atsumu’s pajama top. “Don’t leave?”, he sounds so small and so uncertain and Atsumu doesn’t know whether he means right now or more generally but the answer is the same regardless. “I won't”, he whispers, pulling Sakusa into his arms. Sakusa all but clambers into the embrace as if he’s scared if they aren’t as close as possible that Atsumu will simply disappear. “You want me to sleep with you tonight?” Sakusa nods and Atsumu helps him ease back down onto the pillow, spooning him from behind as he does. Everything is silent for a moment before he hears Sakusa make an indignant little huff. “What is it?” “I don’t want to be the little spoon.” Atsumu has to laugh. “Well yer are now shut up and go back to sleep”, the vaguest hint of his accent coming out as exhaustion overtakes him. The next morning he wakes up with Sakusa still curled in his arms and he decides resolutely he’s not moving back to the sofa.   ~ It’s over breakfast that morning that Atsumu decides on his next plan of attack. Yes, maybe he gets a little too much fun out of teasing Sakusa but sue him his reactions are sort of weirdly endearing okay? There’s also the fact that he wants to do anything to distract Sakusa, last night was enough of a reminder that healing is going to be a long process. This time he wants to breach the topic that has been lingering over them for days. The suggestive touches, the heated glances, the way every kiss almost turns into something more but doesn’t. He in no way wants to pressure Sakusa but he gets the feeling he’s waiting for Atsumu to make the first move and so he does just that by calmly questioning him over breakfast. “Have you ever had your ass eaten”, Atsumu says as nonchalantly as he can just to watch Sakusa turn red to the tips of his ears, gaping at him as if he’s just admitted to murder. The spoon he was eating with clatters onto the table with a resounding clink. “Atsumu what the fuck?” Atsumu just shrugs. “Just a question, I feel like you would enjoy it.” “I would not.” “How do you know if you’ve never tried.” “I never said I hadn't.” “But I know you haven’t.” “How?” “I just do”, Atsumu quips smugly and watches Sakusa get infuriated all over again. “Okay let me rephrase that, my dear Omi-Omi would you do me the honour of letting me eat your ass.” If he thought he’d seen Sakusa embarrassed before this is a whole other world. Sakusa won’t meet his eye and is he tripping over his words right now? The composed, stoic man is gone and Atsumu knows he is never going to get bored of reducing Sakusa to a mumbling mess. “Is that a yes?” “Shut up, you’re so fucking insufferable I wish we’d never met.” Atsumu pulls a face of mock hurt before pulling Sakusa between his legs, trapping him there as Sakusa tries to squirm away. “You know what would help you stop being such a stuck-up, rude and self-righteous bastard?”, Atsumu teases as Sakusa continues glaring up at him. “Getting your ass eaten.” Sakusa finally manages to get out of Atsumu’s grasp, sitting back on his feet so now he’s the one looking down at Atsumu, and okay why is the look on his face making Atsumu unnecessarily horny. “I’ll only agree if you let me do it to you as well, I bet you’d look so cute as you fall apart on my tongue.” It’s Atsumu’s time to blush as he tries to splutter out a reply. He’s never heard Sakusa be that forward to him ever and the way he sounds so teasing and seductive makes Atsumu think he might just combust on the spot. And then Sakusa has the audacity to smirk down at him like he’s won. Neko chooses that exact moment to hop onto Atsumu’s lap and start purring happily. “NO OUR DAUGHTER CANNOT WITNESS THIS CONVERSATION”, he yells dramatically, putting his hands over her ears as she purrs, clearly happy at having the extra person in the house to give her attention. “Our daughter?” “Yes ours, she loves me more than you.” “As if, she tolerates you just like I do.” “Omi-Omi I’m deeply wounded. Take it back. She loves me and so do you.” It takes him a moment to process what he’s just said and as soon as he does he can feel the tips of his ears turning red. Sakusa is looking at him with interest. “What was that Atsumu? Please continue.” “You love me”, Atsumu huffs and he can tell he’s pouting but can’t be bothered to stop. “Do I now?” “Well, I love you.” “Feelings mutual.” “Omiiiiiii.” “Fine, fine. Will you stop pouting if I admit it?” Atsumu just pouts more and Sakusa leans in until their lips are almost touching and then he whispers it against his lips. “I love you Atsumu.” And then he’s pressing against Atsumu’s lips. “Is that a yes to letting me eat your ass?”, Atsumu almost shrieks as soon as they pull apart and Sakusa merely fixes him with a contemptuous glare. “Fine but we’re showering first, we’re going to be hygienic about this.” “Together?” Sakusa nods and Asumu can't help the thrum of excitement that consumes him at the thought of them naked in such a confined space. He feels like he’s reverted back to his teenage self, full of hormones and horniness. What has Sakusa done to him? As it turns out, Atsumu’s brain wasn’t ready for this because yes okay he’s seen Sakusa naked, they’ve literally fucked but now he’s naked and it's intimate and they have all the time in the world and it's all just different somehow. He watches as Sakusa steps under the stream of water, rivulets pooling in the crevice of his clavicle and Atsumu is next to him in an instant, pressing kisses to his neck. The slight shudder he gets in return is everything he wants and so he teasingly bites down just a fraction. “Did you just moan Omi-Omi?”, the glee in his voice evident. “Atsumu kindly shut the fuck up.” For once Atsumu actually complies but only so he can continue laying kisses along Sakusa’s jawline up to his lips where he pauses, the steam of the shower heating their breaths as they gaze at one another. “Can I fuck you?” Atsumu is ready for Sakusa to shut him down instantly. “I guess it would be an appropriate thank you for saving my life”, Sakusa says in monotone. The shiver of excitement that runs down Atsumu’s spine has him pushing Sakusa up against the wall of the shower, kissing Sakusa so needily he really should be embarrassed. He knows that even if he’s going to top that Sakusa is still going to be the one in control but the thought of making Sakusa feel good by his own hands sounds nothing short of blissful if you ask him. They part, both panting and the look of lust in Sakusa’s eyes has Atsumu dropping to his knees before he can process what he’s doing. Sakusa’s already half-hard and Atsumu doesn't waste a moment as he takes him into his mouth, his senses only aware of the warm stream of water running down his back and the heavenly feeling of Sakusa heavy on his tongue. He moans softly and starts sucking in earnest, adoring the way that Sakusa’s hand grasps into his hair like he desperately needs something to ground himself with. The fact that this is the first time he’s been allowed to touch Sakusa properly makes his brain melt into a heady mess of desire. Sakusa is everywhere, the scent of his shampoo in the air, the hand twisting into his hair, the taste in his mouth, and fuck this is everything he’s wanted. He takes a moment to pull back and look up through the haze of water to meet Sakusa’s gaze, he looks fucked out already. His head tilted back against the tiles of the shower, Adam's apple bobbing as he groans and drags Atsumu’s head back to its previous position and Atsumu complies instantly. This time intent on getting more of those sounds out of him. Laving his tongue around the head and pushing his throat down further and further each time, the noises Sakusa makes are godly. “Fuck Atsumu you need to slow down.” Atsumu gazes up at him, his trademark cocky smile already forming. “Can you turn around for me?” His voice is coy and he can’t quite tell if Sakusa is blushing or if it's just the heat of the shower but he likes to think it's the latter. To his amazement, Sakusa complies without any rebuke. And oh okay Asumu might be even more submissive than he realised but gazing up at the broad expanse of Sakusa back as he stands above him, arms braced against the wall makes Atsumu want to do anything to please him. And so he does. Running a finger tentatively across Sakusa’s rim before pulling his cheeks apart and burying his face in like a man possessed. The noise Sakusa makes in response has Atsumu’s own cock throbbing almost painfully between his thighs. But he won't let himself get distracted as he sets his tongue to work, he likes to consider himself good at this. “Tsumu... oh my god”, Sakusa can barely form the words which only makes Atsumu work harder his tongue aching as he dives in again. It’s only when his tongue begins to cramp that he finally moves away and Sakusa is there pulling him to his feet and pulling him into a desperate kiss. “Omi you’re so dirty, that tongue has just been in your ass y’know.” Sakusa just rolls his eyes. “You’re a mess”, he murmurs and when Atsumu catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror opposite the shower he has to admit he is. Hair soaking, lips swollen, eyes dazed, and cock stupidly hard. “Only for you”, he teases back, and then he’s being pushed into the position Sakusa had just occupied. His legs being coaxed apart and hands spreading his cheeks, and yes his brain does just about stop processing as the warmth of Sakusa’s tongue laps over his entrance before going deeper. “Omi”, it’s barely audible but Sakusa must hear it as he continues in earnest. Atsumu can’t stop the way his legs begin to shake and if he had the presence of mind he might have been embarrassed at how quickly he was coming undone but in the moment nothing else matters but the feeling of Sakusa’s tongue. He can’t help but push back slightly, desperately seeking out the feeling again and again and again. But it’s all over too quickly as Sakusa pulls back and says only half coherently, “bedroom”. They tumble onto Sakusa’s bed still wet, soaking the bed sheets without a care. Everything feels so intense, the warmth of Sakusa’s skin almost overwhelming as his hands come to tighten around Atsumu’s cock. He’s moaning shamelessly within seconds. “Stop distracting me, I wanna finger you so bad.” Sakusa raises an eyebrow in amusement, “someone’s being a messy little service top”. Atsumu has no idea how Sakusa seems to have sussed out that he has both a praise kink and also a degradation kink but he’s not really complaining. “You desperate to please me, hm?” Atsumu all but collapses at those words, he swears if it was Sakusa he’d be able to cum from his voice alone. The fact that this man can appear all professional, calm, and reserved one moment and the next be reducing Atsumu to desperation is a duality he’s sort of obsessed with. “Y-yes.” Sakusa has the audacity to smirk at him before he leans over to the bedside cabinet, returning with lube. Atsumu can barely contain himself as he pours lube across his fingers, moaning at the sight of Sakusa beneath him. He circles Sakusa’s hole slowly and gently, wanting to take his time and savour every single movement and sound. His perfectionist streak always finds its way into everything he does and sex is no exception. “We haven’t got all day”, Sakusa huffs and it’s Atsumu’s turn to smirk. “Actually Omi-Omi we do because you are meant to be resting so we have all the time in the world. Anyway, the doctor told me to take good care of you so I am.” Sakusa opens his mouth to reply but before he can Atsumu pushes a finger in and watches as the man beneath him trembles, his eyes rolling back as if on command. “That’s what I thought.” He knows his cockiness will incense Sakusa and it does because before he can react Sakusa is clambering into his lap, guiding Atsumu’s fingers back to his hole. “Put two in now.” He doesn't dare refuse and almost cums by the sight alone as Sakusa begins to ride his fingers slightly and then he’s being pushed back onto the bed so Sakusa is straddling him and telling him to add another. “I wanna take it slow”, he knows he sounds petulant. “And I want you inside of me”, Sakusa snaps back. And fuck why is it so hot to hear Sakusa use that tone? He manages to look both like he’s coming undone on Atsumu’s fingers whilst still looking totally in control and it’s absolutely maddening. “You’re doing so well, making me feel so good.” Atsumu tries to stop the whine that threatens to make its way past his lips but he fails. The praise just makes him want to try harder and so he curls his fingers, desperate to make Sakusa feel good and it works as the man above him tilts his head back and moans. “Atsumu if you don’t hurry up-” Atsumu pushes his fingers in as deep as they will go and relishes in the noise that Sakusa makes in response. He’s definitely ready but honestly, Atsumu wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day fingering him open till he can’t take anymore. But before he can continue any further Sakusa has moved off him and is pulling him down into a kiss. “Fuck me like you promised”, Sakusa demands, and Atsumu finally relents. “Condom?” “ATSUMU I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T GET IN ME.” Atsumu can’t help but laugh as Sakusa glares at him with pure venom. “We’re both clean?” “I mean I am”, Atsumu replies. “So am I and well you’re the only person I’m planning to have sex with from now on so it’s fine.” “Omi”, Atsumu can feel himself welling up at what Sakusa just implied. “I swear to god if you start crying”, Sakusa threatens. Atsumu quickly drizzles more lube onto his cock and pulls Sakusa into a kiss as he pushes in and bottoms out. They both moan in unison, Atsumu taking a moment to steady himself as the feeling overwhelms him. Then he’s moving and it’s heaven, Sakusa beneath him, back arched and head tilted back as he moans Atsumu’s name like a prayer. “That’s it, Omi you look so good, so fucking good.” Before long Sakusa is pushing back, meeting Atsumu’s thrusts. “Let me ride you.” And really who is Atsumu to deny such a request. There’s something about watching Sakusa as he fucks himself on his own cock that has Atsumu almost cumming. Letting Sakusa use him to chase his own pleasure is everything Atsumu wants. He grips onto Sakusa’s thighs, desperately trying to stop himself from fucking up into the tight heat but Sakusa notices anyway. “It’s okay, you don’t need to hold back.” The way Sakusa still talks down to him in the same way he did when he worked as his assistant really should not be as hot as it is but Atsumu loves it. Bucking his hips up as Sakusa grinds down and he’s so, so close. “I’m gonna... I’m so close, I just”, it’s a garbled mess but Sakusa seems to understand the sentiment but instead of slowing down he just goes harder and faster than before, stroking his own cock as he does. The sight is truly orgasmic. And so as Atsumu gazes up at the man he’s wanted for so long, he’s thrusting up for the last time moaning Sakusa’s name and cumming so hard his vision blurs. For a couple of seconds, he’s totally out of it, only managing to mumble Sakusa’s name over and over again as if it’s the only thing he can manage to remember. When he finally opens his eyes he gets to witness Sakusa pushing down for the last time as he tightens his hand around his own cock. The cum hits Atsumu’s face before he can even close his eyes. “Omiiiii”, he whines as he feels it drip down onto his lips. “I would say I’m sorry but you look stupidly hot like that.” Atsumu smirks and allows his tongue to dart out licking up as much as he can reach, it elicits the most perfect moan from Sakusa and so Atsumu goes a step further, swiping his finger across his cheek and collecting as much as he can before he’s sucking the finger into his mouth. “You’re absolutely fucking shameless.” And before Sakusa can escape, Atsumu grabs his neck and pulls him into a kiss, the taste of cum still bitter in his mouth. For a moment he thinks Sakusa is going to try and resist but eventually he melts into the kiss, delving his tongue into Atsumu’s mouth. “You’re disgusting.” “Shameless, disgusting, insufferable, what’s next Omi-Omi? I’m immune to your insults now.” “That’s just because you have a degradation kink though isn’t it.” Atsumu only manages an indignant noise in response before they fall into a comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence. The sun is warm as it filters through the window and in some profound way Atsumu feels like it’s a new beginning. ~ Of course, the headlines cannot get over this new turn of events. Sakusa Kiyoomi’s ex-personal assistant who now works for Akaashi Keiji is now dating Sakusa himself. Every tabloid makes it front-page news and the ruckus doesn't die down for weeks. Osamu sends him every single article he sees about them, gleefully asking him what sort of magic he’s performed to get Sakusa to like him back. Atsumu secretly loves the attention and in an odd way, he thinks Sakusa is enjoying it slightly too. He always seemed to love shocking people. Akaashi is all-knowing smiles when he comes back to the office. “So he hasn’t tried to snatch you back to work for him then?” “Can’t mix romance and work”, Atsumu jokes. “Good good, I don’t want to lose one of my best employees.” He pauses for a moment looking thoughtful, “I think you’ll be good for him.” “I hope so.” A quick hint of glee passes over Akaashi’s face as he says, “oh I am going to send him a bouquet and a cake as a congratulation for finally getting a boyfriend. He’ll be absolutely enraged.” Atsumu snorts, he knows it's good-natured. Their rivalry seems less intense than it had before and more like two siblings insistent on one-upping the other. “I can certainly have that arranged”, he replies, loving the thought of teasing Sakusa as much as Akaashi does. He’s now a regular in Sakusa’s offices, coming over on his lunch breaks or picking up Sakusa after work so he won't hole up in his office hunched over his laptop till god knows what time in the night. And so it becomes routine for him to walk from Akaashi’s office to Sakusa’s, today is no different. He walks the now familiar route past restaurants and boutiques, the late evening sunlight warm and promising. Kiyoko and Hinata run up to meet him the minute he steps into the lobby, instantly starting to tell him the weekly rundown of office gossip. “And so Kiyoko is taking Yachi and Tanaka out for dinner next Friday!”, Hinata all but yells. Kiyoko blushes but her smile is persistent and Atsumu can feel the grin on his face as he bundles her into a hug. “About time”, he teases and she laughs softly and nods. “Well since you and Sakusa managed to work things out I thought really I had to up my game. Can’t get outplayed by you two.” He sticks out his tongue at her before walking over to the doors of Sakusa’s office. The place where it had all started. There’s a moment where he just lets the nostalgia wash over him. How differently things had worked out from how he had expected and yet how perfectly. Quietly, he pushes the door open and slips through. Leaning against the wall and watching as Sakusa stares down at his paperwork, muttering something unintelligible. Atsumu loves when he manages to catch him unawares like this, when he isn’t performing his little act but just simply existing. In fact, he’s so caught up in his work Atsumu manages to sneak around the side of him before throwing his arms around his neck and placing a kiss to his cheek. Sakusa makes a little yelp of surprise and when he turns Atsumu thinks he’s going to hit him but then his face softens and he pulls them together for a slow, lingering, kiss. “You gonna come home now? Neko misses you.” “Neko misses me?” Atsumu rolls his eyes and relents, “I miss you.” Sakusa smiles at him smugly, “that’s what I thought.” He stands up and Atsumu is there instantly to pull him into his arms so they can kiss again. They stand like that, intertwined in one another's arms as they watch the sun slowly descend, the traffic outside humming its rush hour tune all the while. “Omi?” “Yes?” “Did you ever think this was going to happen?” “What when you walked in for an interview and managed to piss me off in about five seconds?” Atsumu grins at him, “you wanted to fuck me don’t lie.” Sakusa shrugs, looking out the window as he says, “yes true but I didn’t think it would end up like this.” “I’m glad that it did”, Atsumu says resting the side of his head on Sakusa’s shoulder. Sakusa is silent for a minute. “Me too. This sounds ridiculous but I think you saved me.” Atsumu gazes up at him and in that moment he knows he’ll do it again and again and again. Anything it takes to keep Sakusa safe. He knows this isn’t all going to be easy, there’ll be lasting effects from Sakusa’s less than healthy coping mechanisms and a lot of things to work through too but Atsumu isn’t so daunted by all of that now. “I’m going to love you properly this time.” He says it aloud to bind it to reality, to hold himself to the promise of looking after Sakusa. It seems almost profound but it isn't really, it’s actually quite simple.

As expected, Molly's presence in the household staff brought the house to life for Jane. Her limp had managed to, except for on bad days, disappear once again. Molly didn't ask about it. Sherlock was never home so she knew the limp wasn't something he'd done. Even in the absence of Christmas decorations, six months later, Jane was always in a good mood when Molly was around. Six months since Christmas, Jane could hardly believe it but she'd been there for more than a year now. And other than having a frequently absent husband, it had been a wonderful change in her life. Gregory Lestrade had become a frequent visitor since January though Jane rarely saw anything of him, and she was fairly certain that Sherlock saw him even less. His true design in visiting their home was Molly and it was easy to tell. They'd only converse for ten to fifteen minutes at a time but Molly would always come away from her conversations with Lestrade in a good mood. Jane still hardly saw Sherlock when he actually managed to be home but she found that he didn't go out of his way to avoid her anymore which made her feel better about the whole situation between them, whatever it was. Molly had plans for them though, and she made sure to tell Jane about it as soon as there was an option to go through with them. "A cèilidh? What's that?" Jane asked, raising an eyebrow as Molly dragged her through the market in search for a dress. "It's a party that Mr. Lestrade is putting on." Molly said excitedly, pulling her into a shop. "I'm assuming that's why you made me curl my hair today?" Jane asked with raised eyebrows. Molly nodded, grinning brightly at a sky blue dress she found on the shelf. "This is going to look so good on you. I'm sure it will bring out the color in your eyes!" Molly pushed Jane into the changing closet and began undressing her to try on the dress.  The dress was indeed lovely, if more revealing than what Jane had become accustomed to wearing. It was off the shoulder, which was mostly why she felt so exposed. The top was embroidered with scrolling in a dark blue color and to separate the bottom from the top aesthetically a thin ribbon wrapped around her waist, tied in a bow with long tails. The skirt was flowy and, when Jane spun around, it lifted and began to glide on the air naturally before wrapping around her ankles and falling back into place. "Wait right here, Jane, I'm going to go pay for this. We've found it, the perfect dress for you." "Why are you so obsessed with my looks this evening?" "I'm your lady's maid, I'm supposed to be obsessed with your looks." Molly smirked and Jane felt her face mirror it.  "True as that may be, you're acting a bit more obsessed than usual." "Maybe I'm just hoping that you can use this as an opportunity to talk to Mr. Holmes and get him to open up to you." "Haha. That was such a funny quip I forgot to laugh." "I'm being serious." Molly stated firmly from the other side of the curtain as she handed the seamstress gold for the dress.  "One fatal flaw in your master plan, Molly. Mr. Holmes has a distaste for parties of any sort. I planned the Christmas party, if you recall." "And did you not, at this Christmas party, convince him to hire me on as your lady's maid?" "Yep, that's the one." "Would you consider that a form of opening up? Think what you will but you both learned new things about one another at that party." "...Fine... If this backfires and I die before you, I will embarrass you for the rest of your life in spirit." Jane warned and Molly just chuckled, going behind the curtain again and taking off her outfit to replace it with her own dress she'd picked out. It was a soft yellow with a pink ribbon but far more simple than Jane's dress. They made for the carriage and spent the trip to Mr. Lestrade's home in amicable conversation, often laughing and giggling like little school girls, but inside, Jane felt disappointment well up inside her. Sherlock disliked social gatherings of any sort, and even if he and Mr. Lestrade were best friends, she very much doubted he'd attend, making Molly's master plan fall into disrepair. Still, she didn't want to offend Mr. Lestrade by having none of the Holmes attend his gathering, and Molly had put so much effort into making her look good, it would be a shame not to enjoy this cèilidh. The sight that greeted Jane and Molly was awe inspiring. Mr. Lestrade, by judgement of his estate alone appeared to be better off than Moriarty, and quite possibly Jane's own husband. The lawn was covered in beautiful painted paper lanterns that were already lit and welcoming. "I had no idea that Mr. Lestrade was this well off..." "Technically, it's Duke Lestrade but he prefers to be called Mr. Lestrade." Molly murmured with a small shrug, taking Jane's hand and pulling her up the cobblestone path. They followed the lanterns like moths to a flame until they came to a lovely clearing surrounded by thick greenery on all sides. There were tables set up around the edges and lanterns were hung on strands of rope high above their heads. A feast covered every table and in the center of the clearing, people were dancing. A band played off to the side on a temporary wooden stage and those who weren't dancing were in conversation, milling around the tables or watching and enjoying the merriment of this well hosted festivity.  Most notable was the violinist of the band, a messy head of ebony curls and a face she knew all too well as her husband's. Sherlock Holmes was in attendance and he was busying himself by playing the instrument he'd received from her at Christmas. He played it beautifully, too. Sure, the other instrumentalists were playing as well, but Jane was solely honed in on the way the violin sung under the careful, focused fingertips of a man who continued to surprise her this evening. "Jane? Jane!" Molly's voice pulled her out of her reverie but only when the mousy brunette grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. "Hmm? Oh, um, sorry, Molly, I was just taking in the sights. What is it?" "At the next song we should dance!" Molly suggested enthusiastically. Jane glanced out among the dancers, she'd hired on a dance tutor so that at her next social gathering, she didn't look like a fool, but the dancing that was taking place here, she didn't recognize at all. It was unrefined, free, wild even. Ladies twirled about, skirts floating through the air and men skipped and leapt, uninhibited by normal social convention. The song ended and everyone let out cheers, clapping for the band. Molly took off her shoes and placed them to the side and Jane hesitantly did the same. Three lovely ladies stood at the foot of the stage and Molly tugged Jane along as had been her custom this evening. "Molly, I'm not sure how to dance like this..." Jane admitted, swallowing thickly. She could feel eyes on her and it made her feel uneasy. "Just follow my lead, Jane, you'll do fine. It looks like the singers are going to warm up first any how. We'll figure it out together during that." Jane took in a sharp inhale, holding her breath.  One of the ladies stepped forward and started singing slowly but strongly. There were no actual lyrics at this point, only a handful of sounds that sounded good musically. Molly took initiative, grabbing handfuls of her skirt and lifting until her ankles were visible. Jane mimicked the action, following Molly's steps as she skipped back and forth in relatively the same spot to the pace of the music, giving a few kicks as she fell naturally into the world of the song. Jane did her best to imitate her friend's steps, as well as her enthusiasm.  The singer suddenly picked up the pace and then a different girl sang a completely new set of notes, as people clapped to the unspoken rhythm. Molly kept up with the now much faster pace and Jane managed to do the same. The ladies switched off between their two rhythms sounding a lot like they were arguing through their music despite there being no actual words. Together they harmonized and a simple violin melody droned in the background. Abruptly they stopped a moment and it left Jane feeling like she were on a steep cliff, hanging off by the last note. The third woman sang finally, her own set of notes and then the other ladies joined in with their notes again. It sounded more like an argument now, but every once in a while the notes would find their way into harmony before shooting back out into a conflicting discord and chaotic but beautiful nature. Once again they stopped but silence didn't follow. Instead, the sound of a violin sprung the song to life and any stragglers on the dance floor were now fully engaged and Jane had finally managed to find her own groove as the first singer began the first verse of the song. The song seemed to be about lights and dancing and adventure, fitting the theme of the evening rather well, Jane thought. The lighthearted excitement of the singer's performance was contagious, even Jane was feeling her spirit lifting. The other ladies joined in, singing in harmony with one another and guided the song into the pre-chorus. Suddenly the song was less about adventure and more about being bound to home. The conflicting views of the singers were disorienting, but somehow it spoke volumes to the discontentment Jane was feeling in regards to her own life. She couldn't be sure if she agreed completely with Molly's plan to chase after Sherlock, but it would be nice to at least see more of him, to return to the blossoming friendship they had before their nuptials. Molly and Jane joined hands and spun around as a chorus in an unfamiliar language left her uplifted yet dizzy. The next verse continued on simply enough as the first, with one minor difference, one of the singers had pulled a pair of spoons out of seemingly nowhere and proceeded to bump them together, causing a beat to rattle out of them. The chorus continued on and Jane found herself swirling around with Mr. Lestrade this time, who gave a nod and smile in greeting and in an instant, she was back to skipping and kicking around the same spot. Violin sudden picked up and Jane found herself dancing with the most unpleasant of acquaintances, Moriarty. "Oh, hello, Mr. Moriarty..." Jane said through her teeth, Moriarty just chuckled. "Hello, Mrs. Holmes, you're looking rather lovely tonight. Could it be you're trying to impress some lonely bachelor?" "Perhaps you've forgotten that I'm married." Jane growled defensively, eyes narrowing at him.  "Not happily from what the rumors flying about the village would suggest. IS it true that you didn't even share the wedding evening with your husband?" Jane was speechless and incredibly embarrassed by the statement. She was about to retort but the crowd on the dance floor pulled her to a different part of the clearing and she was suddenly all to aware of the music. She'd been dancing on instinct throughout that whole conversation and she still was. The violin was playing merrily and had been for... since about when she started talking to Moriarty. Than she remembered who was playing that violin. Her eyes shot towards the stage where she found Sherlock watching her keenly, playing the fiddle in his hands effortlessly, perhaps even mindlessly. It certainly didn't seem like he was paying the song any actual mind at this point, all of his attention appeared to be elsewhere. The music changed and so did the tune of the violin, which was now hissing as if Sherlock's very touch were fire and it felt like he were playing the conflict in her very soul, and then as abruptly as it began it stopped and was once again replaced by the melodic voices of the trio of talented ladies. She couldn't take her eyes off her husband though, whose eyes continued to follow her as she danced around the grass. The violin picked up again and this time, their gazes locked and she felt her heart start pounding. It once again faded out and she twirled slowly as the music slowed and something in her settled in that moment. The lyrics suggested she could find adventure and happiness where she was and those words held more meaning than she ever expected them too. Staring at Sherlock, she couldn't imagine why she'd still gone on that daily pilgrimage to the tree that she'd been whisked to the past near, not when this had become her present. A fire fueled her spirit and she danced with more determination than before and the singers seemed to be displaying that with their voices. She spun around and around, kicked and leapt and skipped and pranced, but her eyes never left Sherlock's and then finally the sound ended and Sherlock hastily jumped off the stage as another violinist moved to take his place for awhile.  "Dr. Watson." He greeted, offering her a glass of champagne that he'd scooped up for her during his determined trek to her.  "Mr. Holmes, at the very least, you should call me by my proper surname when we're in public. Everyone else does." Jane murmured, taking the glass and downing half of its contents.  "Mrs. Holmes... my apologies... I wasn't sure you'd wish me to call you that..." Sherlock looked like a child who had just been scolded and it almost suited him, almost.  "Why wouldn't I want you to call me that?" Jane asked blankly, blinking at him in disbelief. Sherlock quietly offered his arm and she took it. He guided her down a path and away from the crowd, sitting on a steep hill where a stream flowed meters below. Jane sat next to him and he quietly contemplated whatever it was going on in his mind. "How are you?" he asked after a moment, looking at her with pure concern, an expression she hadn't really seen on his face since before they had gotten married. "I'm fine. I'm doing well, actually." Jane answered the surprisingly normal and out of place question. "It's nice to be able to talk to you for once." "What?" Sherlock looked surprised, he cleared his throat, though in the dim light she could see a hint of a blush. "I wasn't aware that you wanted to talk to me..." "Is it so unlikely that a woman would wish to converse with her husband?" "Perhaps under normal circumstances, no, but our marriage has never been broadly defined as normal by anyone." Sherlock murmured quietly, fiddling with the ring on his finger.  "I thought arranged marriages were common for the time."  "Wha- Ours is not an arranged marriage, a marriage with an arrangement, yes, but our parents most certainly did not plan this out for us." Sherlock defended, softening after a moment. "I suppose my concern for you arises from you dancing with Moriarty. You seemed... shocked by something." "Oh, that... apparently our lack of sex is common knowledge around the village and he was kind enough to inform me of that..." Jane murmured bitterly, face a little red. Sherlock's shoulders visibly stiffened and his ears were now very obviously bright red.  "How? That shouldn't have gotten out..." Sherlock moved to kneel in front of her. "I'm sorry. It's my fault... I should've made sure that the staff understood the parameters of our marriage." "To be fair, Mr. Holmes, I'm not entirely sure I understand the 'parameters' of our marriage."  "It's to keep you safe from men like Moriarty." Sherlock murmured blankly. Jane felt her blood boil a bit at that and stood abruptly, turning on heel to head back to the part. Sherlock got up quickly and gently grabbed for her wrist. "Was that not the right thing to say?" Jane didn't say anything, instead she shook off his grip and continued walking. "I'm sorry, Jane... Forgive me... I don't know what I said that wronged you but I would take it back in an instant. I... marriage is still incredibly new to me. I've never had an instance where I needed to know the right words to say before, and I can see that one of those instances was now..." Jane paused, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. She glanced over her shoulder to look at him. "Why is it that you treat me like I'm made of glass?" she wondered out loud and Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed. "I've been keeping my distance because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." "Uncomfortable? Why would I be uncomfortable, you used to follow me around like a little puppy before we got married." "Yes, that was before Moriarty- Before he assaulted you..." "That's what this is about?" Jane giggled and then she broke out into a full on laugh. "Oh, Holmes, believe me when I say I've had much worse than a man try to force himself on me. I was shaken at the time, but I'm over it." "You're over it? You do continue to astound me, Mrs. Holmes..." Sherlock murmured in a sort of awe. Jane's features softened and she plopped back down on the grass, patting the spot beside her. Sherlock nervously sat, swallowing thickly. "Was that the only thing you wanted to talk about?" Sherlock looked at Jane with a bewildered expression and then blushed and shook his head.  "There was something but it's... not appropriate under any circumstance... Not at all something I should expect or even ask of you..." "If it's about the rumors that I'm on the prowl for an affair, I'm not." Jane answered and Sherlock's face only showed more confusion. "There are rumors about that?" He shook himself out of his thoughts and cleared his throat. "That wasn't what I was going to ask you..." "Oh yeah?" Jane hummed softly. "Well, what were you going to ask me?" she wondered aloud, looking at him for the answer. "I... was wondering... since you're no longer afflicted by last year's incident... if you would mind terribly... um... if we... consummated our marriage..." Sherlock's cheeks were bright red and his words could hardly be heard over the music in the distance.  "W-What?" How Jane had found herself in this predicament, she'd never know. She was sitting on her bed, blushing furiously as she considered the fact that she had actually agreed to have sex with Sherlock Holmes. He was probably on his way home, arriving after her because he had agreed to stay a little after the party per a request that Mr. Lestrade had.  A gentle knock on the door and then it slowly creaked open just a crack.  "Um... may I come in?" Sherlock asked shyly, voice a little higher than usual, probably from nervousness she reasoned.  "Yeah. Of course." Jane answered, smoothing out the fabric on her lap and sitting up straight. Sherlock slowly entered, closing the door behind him and approaching her. "Nervous much?" "I suppose it is rather obvious.. isn't it..?" Jane nodded and he sat next to her. "I just... don't want to be a cause for you to think all men are hopeless..." "Holmes... look at me." Sherlock did as he was told and was greeted, to his surprise, with a gentle kiss. It was not entirely broken when Jane spoke again. "I'm sure that that won't be the case." The kiss seemed to ignite something in him because he then took control of it, guiding her to rest on her back. He broke the kiss to trail kisses down her neck, hand slipping under her to undo the numerous buttons that kept her dress in place. "Are you sure about this, Jane?" he asked quietly and she gave one quiet nod in assurance. He pulled his jacket off and tossed it on the floor, kissing her once more but this time more confidently, Jane kissed back, a little surprised at his change in demeanor. He carefully slipped her overdress off and took in the sight of her. "I meant to tell you earlier... you're beautiful." "Isn't beauty just an abstract social construct to you?" Jane teased and he gently took her hand in his own, pressing it to his lips. "You use my own foolish words against me?" Sherlock questioned, smiling tenderly. "It may be an abstract social construct, but it doesn't change the fact that it's how I feel about you. I could hardly take my eyes off of you when you danced, surely you noticed?" "Oh, I did... I suppose I'm just stalling..." "If this is something that you don't want, you need only tell me, Jane..." "It's not that... You just... seem different tonight and I suppose I'm just trying to figure you out." "If it's any consolation, I feel different tonight... Is it a good different?" "Yeah. I think it is." Jane mused, pulling him against her lips again. He kissed back fervently, fingers setting on the quest to unlace her bodice. Despite the fact that her stay was getting looser, it felt like it was getting harder and harder for her to breathe. She found herself giving in to the sensations Holmes was pouring over her generously. She'd been with men before in uni as John Watson, but it had never felt like this. She wasn't sure what this was, but she'd never felt anything like it with anyone. Once he had her completely undressed, he simply looked at her with awe subtly shimmering in his eyes. Sherlock shook himself out of his trance and started removing the rest of his clothes, laying by her side and kissing her tenderly. Tentatively, his fingers found their way between her legs and he very gently pressed one inside her. Jane's breath hitched as she got used to the unfamiliar sensation, it wasn't unpleasant, not at all, just... new, like the rest of this aspect of their relationship. She forced herself to ignore the nervousness welling up inside her and relaxed, letting out a pleased hum when Sherlock added another finger. "How is it?" Sherlock asked quietly and Jane's eyes fluttered open to meet his.  "It's a little odd, to be honest, but I think I like it." Jane admitted and Sherlock's shoulders relaxed a bit. He kissed her tenderly, starting to move his fingers in and out of her slowly causing a pleased hum to leave her again.  Soon he grew more confident and the noises he elicited from her were moans, rather than simple hums. He shifted until he was settled between her legs and slowly pressed inside of her. The pleasant sensation through them both off guard but not nearly as much as the moan that left Sherlock as he buried himself in her warmth. What had been most surprising was that instead of some random sound, Sherlock had elected to moan her name. Their fingers laced together and she held tightly to his hands before giving them a gentle and encouraging squeeze. "Jane..." "Shh, shh, Sherlock... It's alright..." She cooed and he relaxed against her, holding her close to him.  "You feel incredible..." he whispered, lips just barely grazing hers.  "Perhaps I should get you like this more often, you give more compliments." Jane teased and he let out a little chuckle, kissing her forehead.  "From now on, should I prove to be too frugal with my compliments towards you, let me know. I'd rather be made aware of how foolish I'm being rather than continue to be an ignorant fool." Sherlock moved his hips and it caused them both to let out quiet moans. Slowly but surely, he worked himself into a normal pace, encouraged more when Jane's fingers found their way into his thick curls.  "Jane, I'm..." "Me too, Sherlock." She assured, letting out a rather lewd moan as he shifted angles slightly. Sherlock's pace grew faster and Jane clung to him as he continued to strike something deep inside her.  He kissed her passionately, pouring his seed inside her and still thrusting through his own orgasm as Jane continued to moan his name quietly in his ear. They held onto each other as waves of pleasure washed over them and their vision blurred in and out of focus. He kissed her tenderly as his mind continued to dizzy him with sensations of pleasure and she pliantly returned the kiss, letting out a content sigh. Exhaustion from the party as well as their latest activities hit them hard and Jane let out a quiet yawn.  "Jane?" Sherlock asked, slowly pulling out of her and laying by her side. He hesitantly rested his arm around her waist. "Mmm... yes, Sherlock?"  "Would you mind terribly if I stayed with you tonight?" "Wouldn't be the first time you and I shared a bed, husband." Sherlock buried his face in a nearby pillow, Jane assumed it was to hide his blush. She playfully ruffled his hair before relaxing back into the mattress and drifting off to sleep.

The smaller boy awoke when a nurse gently tapped his shoulder, holding out the release forms. "You can go now, sir. Whenever you're ready." She said before walking out. Cas smiled and sat up, quickly filling out the form. Dean stirred awake a few minutes later, looking at Cas hunched over some forms. "Hey." He said, his voice thick from sleep. "What time is it?" Cas smiled and leaned back, kissing Dean's cheek. "Mmm, morning sleepy bear. It's three in the morning, we can head home and go back to sleep if you would like." He whispered, setting the forms down on the table. "Please." Dean said thickly, before standing up, shivering when he realized he was naked from the waist down. Blushing, he reached over and pulled on his pants. "Who’s driving?" Cas giggled and watched Dean fondly. "Me, you have a gunshot wound in your foot, silly." He teased, standing alongside Dean. Dean grinned and rolled his eyes. "Can you even drive, Cas?" He teased, tossing the keys to his precious Impala to the smaller boy. Castiel stuck his tongue out and walked towards the door, setting the wheelchair behind him so Dean had to use it to get past the doorway. "Yes I can, let's go." He said in endearment. Dean grabbed his and Cas' phones off the bed stand, turning around and letting out a groan. " Cas…” He whined, pouting. "Can’t I just walk it off?" "No! How am I supposed to have a boyfriend if he isn't going to heal properly and have to stay home for the rest of his life! Sit!" Castiel scolded, nodding towards the chair. Dean rolled his eyes again and reluctantly sat down in the chair, waiting for Cas to wheel him out. Cas couldn't help but feel concern with how much Dean was acting annoyed with him. He knew that Dean was probably tired of his insecurities. Hell. He was tired of them as well, but it didn't make sense to him. The smaller boy laid a gently kiss on Dean’s head and wheeled him out to the car, telling the nurse that the forms were on the table for her. He opened the door for Dean and smiled. "Finally." Dean groaned and took in a deep breath of fresh air. "I know that hospital too well." He turned to look at Cas. "Speaking of the hospital...I was reading up while you were asleep, a lawsuit wouldn’t be that hard to win, since what happened to you was all their fault, and they've got camera recordings of it and stuff." Castiel smiled rolled his eyes. "You love the idea of suing them more than you love me, it's adorable." Cas teased, kissing Dean’s cheek before running to the other side of the car. He hopped in the driver's seat and started the car carefully, knowing how much Dean loved his Impala. "I can use my family's lawyer, and then we can use the money for a house before school gets out, we would be moved in by the end of summer!" He chirped. Dean grinned and reached over, pecking Cas on the cheek, but freezing halfway, an idea popping into his head. "You know, Cas....we could totally build our own house! It would be perfect!" Dean tried not to squeal, but he sounded pretty damn close. Cas' eyes widened and he smiled. "Really? Oh god that would be amazing!" He said with a happy laugh. The smaller boy turned his head and caught Dean’s lips in a passionate kiss, giggling before he pulled away. "I love you so much." He whispered, pulling from the parking lot. "I love you, too, Cas." Dean grinned, before reaching over, putting on his seatbelt. "The first thing we're gonna do, is go to your house and take a long, hot shower... together ." Dean’s voice got low at the last part. Cas bit his lip shyly and kept his eyes on the road. "Don't tease me, Dean." He said in a faux warning tone. The smaller boy did have a ton of fantasys, one of them being Dean fucking him in the shower, but it was obviously a difficult task. "I'm not, I promise." Dean grinned over at him. "I mean, I would offer up my house but...the hot water there only lasts, like, five minutes. I always let Sammy have it." Dean shifted uncomfortably. He hated talking or even thinking about his own problems. Money, in particular, was a huge problem for them. John brought in maybe $200 a week, and most of that was blown on booze and gas. Most times, Dean would wear the same shirt three days in a row and pray no one would notice. Cas chewed on his lip and pulled off to the side of the road, turning to Dean. "Dean, you never get told this enough..." He said gently, cupping Dean’s face. "You're an amazing older brother, and I love you so much for that. You're courageous and giving, I couldn't ask for anything more." Cas murmured, his eyes round and loving. Dean blushed and bit his lip, looking down. "Thank you, Castiel." He was right, Dean didn’t get told that...at all. Not by Sam, certainly not by John...it really helped that someone he loved thought so highly of him. "I love you." Cas leaned over and kissed Dean slowly, pouring all of his love into the tender kiss. His seatbelt locked, so the closest he could get was to kiss him. The smaller boy pulled back and started the car again, driving back out onto the road. "I love you too, Dean." Dean grinned and leaned back, knowing it was a twenty minute ride back home. He let his eyes flutter closed and before he knew it he was asleep. Castiel glanced at Dean and smiled, his heart swelling at the sight of Dean. Dean looked so peaceful when he slept, Cas thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. All of Deans frown lines melted away into a content look.   Twenty minutes later Cas pulled the car into the driveway and got out, lugging Dean’s wheelchair from the back. He walked over to Dean’s door and opened it slowly, not wanting to wake the larger boy up. Cas shakily reached out and unbuckled him before wrapping an arm slowly under his legs and behind his back. Dean was only 200 pounds of muscle, and he was 120 pounds of bones. How hard could it be? Dean shuffled a little in his sleep, feeling his body being jostled around. "Cas?" He croaked as he woke up, cracking his eyes open, the cold night air hitting him. Castiel smiled and decided to just slide Dean into the wheelchair. He lined the wheelchair to the car and slowly moved Dean’s body into it, keeping his foot and head safe the whole time. "Shh, go back to sleep, baby, we're almost home." He whispered, kissing Dean's forehead as he closed the car door. Dean nodded and let his eyes slip shut once more, sleepily mumbling something and going to sleep again, slumping down in his wheelchair. Cas cooed lovingly, watching Dean for a moment with a maternal look before wheeling Dean to his house. The smaller boy smiled to himself when he noticed his parents cars weren't home, they were probably out of town on business. He got to the stairs and sighed, not wanting to wake Dean up quite yet. Castiel smiled when noticing Sam and Gabe cuddled up under a blanket on the couch, warm in each others embrace, the movie forgotten with the credits rolling. He decided not to ruin their moment. He let his hand card through Dean’s hair, kissing his neck and jaw gently to coax him awake. "Wake up baby...it's almost time to sleep." Dean let out a gurgle and gave a little twitch, opening his eyes a few seconds later. "Hmm, Cas?" He asked, his voice loud in the silent mansion. Castiel giggled quietly, shushing Dean with a soft look. "We have to go shower, then you may sleep, I promise." He murmured, nudging Dean once more. Dean nodded and got up. "We're gonnnna shower? Okayyy, Cas." He slurred, almost sleep-drunken. He blinked, his face scrunching up, trying to wake himself up. Castiel couldn't help but leaned up and kiss Dean’s nose, huffing a laugh to himself. "You're cute, now come on." He said teasingly, helping Dean use him as support for the stairs. Dean looked at Cas blearily. "Ok, Cas." He said again, before dragging himself up the stairs and into Cas' room, glad the boy had his own bathroom. When Dean was half asleep, he had no verbal filter, so he found himself blurting out, "You're really pretttyyyyy." Castiel turned red and looked away, giggling shyly. "And you're very handsome, now take off your clothes and meet me in the shower." He chided and walked into the bathroom. Dean stretched and started taking off his clothes, almost falling asleep halfway, but he forced himself to wake up fully and get naked, a small collection of his clothes were strewn on Cas' floor. Castiel slipped out of his own gown and turned on the shower, stepping inside when the water was hot. He arched his chest into the warm spray, tucking his head underneath and scrubbing his hands through his hair to get it wet.Dean yawned a little and strolled into the shower with Cas. "Hey, Sweetheart." He pulled the shower curtain closed, and by this point he was fully awake. Cas smiled and giggled fondly. "You still sleepy?" He asked, turning to face Dean. "A little." Dean stretched, cringing when he heard his joints pop. Castiel watched lovingly, stepping closer to Dean. "Here, stand under the water so you can get your hair washed." He said, moving behind the larger boy. Dean nodded and shuffled under the water, the warmth of it making him sleepy. "Sorry I'm so tired" He yawned again, his head bowed. Castiel leaned over and kissed Dean’s forehead. "It's the middle of the night, of course you're tired." Dean mumbled an incoherent reply and grabbed the body soap, mistaking it for shampoo and rubbing it in his hair. Cas started laughing and grabbed the shampoo, fondly pouring some his in his hands. "Dean, wrong soap." He teased and buried his slim hands in Dean’s hair. Dean let a little grumble, a soft moan slipping past his lips when he felt Cas' fingers work against his scalp. "You're good at this." Dean mumbled, tipping his head back, giving Cas more access. Cas scrubbed the shampoo into Dean’s hair and moved his hands to run over the firm planes of his chest. "Thank you, I think I just love you a lot." He murmured fondly. "I love you too, Cas." Dean said, almost automatically. He turned to face Cas and he put his hands on the smaller boy’s waist. Castiel frowned, it sounded like there was no emotion behind the words. He knew Dean was tired, but tomorrow he was going to ask Dean what was wrong. The smaller boy stepped closer and hugged Dean, nuzzling his face into his neck. "L-Let me help you wash up, too." Dean reached for the shampoo and poured some on Cas’ hair, starting to scrub it, not knowing that Cas had already washed his hair. Castiel almost purred, his eyes fluttering shut. "Mmm, love you." He whispered, smiling to himself. Dean grinned and grabbed the body wash, pouring it in a lufa that Cas owned before he started sloppily scrubbing at Cas' chest and arms. Castiel’s eyes shot open and he giggled, squirming about. "Dean! Stop it!" He squeaked, his cheeks turning red as he swatted at Deans hands. Dean smirked, squeezing the lufa so big puffs of white soap squeezed out, and he picked up the weightless blob and tossed it at Cas. Cas' smile grew and he cupped his hands to catch water before tossing it towards Dean. The smaller boy bit his lip shyly and glanced up at Dean, trying to seem innocent. Dean sputtered as the splash of water hit his face, it definitely snapped him out of his half asleep state. The way Cas was looking so innocent and adorable was driving Dean mad. He dropped the lufa on the floor and took a step towards Cas. "Now...what did you say about wanting me to fuck you in the shower?" Castiel turned a deep red and stuttered, his eyes widening. " You suggested that! I-I don't need it." He insisted in embarrassment. Dean was so hot. He wasn't attractive at all, and he definitely wasn't as smooth as Dean. Dean chuckled lightly and put a hand on Cas' sharp hip bone. "But do you want it?" He asked, taking another step, he and Cas were basically sharing the breaths at this point. Castiel shuddered and looked up at Dean with round eyes. "...yes." He breathed out, his hands naturally lacing into Dean's hair and pulling him into a fiery kiss. Cas nipped at Dean’s lower lip and pulled back, breathing heavily. "I love you so much." He murmured. "I love you, too, Cas." Dean grinned and moved his hands from Cas' waist to his ass, taking a cheek in each hand. Castiel’s mouth went to Dean’s shoulder to suck a hickey before letting out a breathless mewl. "I'm going to jump up." The smaller boy warned before jumping and wrapping his legs around Dean’s strong waist. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and pulled him closer, shuddering at the feeling of their wet chests gliding together. Dean nodded and walked another step over, pressing Cas' back to the warm wall. "Gonna fuck you up against this wall, Sweetheart." Dean promised as he reached down, jerking his cock to full hardness. Castiel bit his lip and buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck, a needy noise coming from him. "Hurry!" Cas whined impatiently. "Needy, are you?" Dean smirked and rubbed the head of his cock against Cas furled, tight hole, letting it pop in and out a few times. Castiel keened, rocking his hips down to take Dean inside him. "Only for you. Always need you." He gasped out. "Good boy." Dean smirked, before thrusting inside of Cas, burying himself completely into him with one thrust. Cas threw his head back, his skull thunking against the tile as he cried out, the sound echoing off the walls. "Oh yes Dean!" He mewled, his hands clutching desperately at the larger boy's wet, tan skin. "Its 4 am, baby...don't wanna wake anyone up, do we?" Dean smirked, giving Cas a brutal thrust, right into his prostate. Cas' eyes rolled back and he wailed, the keening sound coming right back at him, ringing in both of their ears. He trembled in Dean’s arms, his lips parting in pleasure. " Dean! Ohmygod!" "Like this, slu-baby?" Dean almost said slut, but then he remembered Cas wasn't into that. Castiel looked up, hearing the mistake loud and clear. "I love it so much. Say it, Dean, fucking say it." He rambled, rocking his hips, trying to get Dean to move again. Dean let out a soft moan. "A-Are you sure, Cas?" He didn’t want him and Cas to get in another fight. "Yes, you said it was talking dirty, correct? As long as you don't actually think that low of me, I understand that it is meant to be sensual." Cas said, cupping Dean’s cheek with a soft look. He smiled lovingly, leaning their foreheads together. "I trust you. Forever. I promise my life to you." Dean ducked his head and pressed a kiss to Cas' lips. "I love you." He murmured before starting to thrust in and out of Cas again. "You like this, slut?" Dean sneered, his cock blurting out precum deep inside of the twink in his arms. Castiel bit his lip and nodded, moaning quietly at the words. His slim fingers slid up the nape of Dean’s neck and gripped the short hair at the back of his head, each thrust into him forcing a breathy moan from his mouth. "Fucking love your tight whore hole so much, you know that?" Dean rambled, feeling his orgasm approaching embarrassingly quickly. Cas gasped and stuttered on his tiny mewls of pleasure, his hairless legs wrapping tighter around Deans waist. "O-Oh I know, that's why I l-like teasing y-you so much." He babbled. The smaller boy wasn't as educated on dirty talk, his voice would waver each time Dean's cock filled him up again and again and again. "You my good slut?" Dean asked, trying to hold back his own moans threatening to climb their way out of his throat. "Yes! Always!" Castiel moaned, arching his back off the wall so his flat chest moved against the planes of Dean's own. Dean smirked and sped up his thrusts. "Gonna fuckin cum all over yourself, are ya, slut?" Castiel let out a high pitched moan and he tried not to let his head fall back, he tried to keep eye contact with his boyfriend, but it was fucking hard. "O-Oh god." He gasped. "You ever jerk off your pretty little cock thinking about me...before we got together?" Dean asked. Cas turned bright red and his hands tightened slightly in Dean’s hair, trying not to moan at the pleasure sparking up his spine. "N-No..." He stuttered in embarrassment. Fuck, why did he have to be so bad at lying? "You lying to me, Cas?" Dean arched an eyebrow threateningly. "No!" Castiel whined, rocking his hips and squirming in an attempt to get Dean to move. "Tell the truth, Cas." Dean started rocking his hips again. "I could just cum right now, if I wanted to, and I could just leave you here, all hard and unsatisfied." Cas whimpered, his lips parting in a mewl. "I-I...I did, once, b-but that was the only time I ever did anything before you." He rambled, his eyes becoming hooded and lazy at Dean’s slow and teasing thrusts. "You jerk your pretty little cock off, huh? Thinking about me?” Shit, that was so fucking hot...Dean would have to tell Cas he was a voyeur, he hoped Cas didn't think it was too weird....maybe he would let Dean watch him jerk off or something. Castiel nodded and bit his lip, his ocean blue eyes desperately trying to keep looking into Dean's. "Y-Yes.." He whimpered, his blush spreading to his chest. "Good boy." Dean murmured, before speeding up his hips, practically slamming into Cas, trying to make Castiel cum before he did. When Dean's hips arched up to fuck into Cas, the head of his cock grazed his prostate, sending Cas' head flying back and hitting against the tile so hard he had to have a concussion. " Dean!" The smaller boy wailed, his legs trembling as the pleasure faded to a gentle, building wave. Dean winced when he heard the sick 'thunk'. "You good, Cas?" He asked, bringing a hand down to jerk Cas' rock hard cock off. "U-Up..." Cas managed, his eyelids fluttering each time Dean slid into him. "O-Oh fuck." He whispered under his breath. Dean tightened his grip around Cas' cock, jerking the boy off faster, trying to get him to cum, hard. Castiel let out a keening gasp, desperately wanting Dean to hit that spot again, but he couldn't speak. The smaller boy came with a silent scream, his eyes rolling back from the constant jerking of his cock. "Good boy..." Dean murmured, finally cumming deep inside Castiel. He took a deep breath and pulled out, unwrapping Cas' legs from around his waist. Castiel took heavy breaths, slowly sliding to lay on the floor with a blissed out look. "Dean.." He murmured drunkenly. Dean crinkled his eyebrows up, looking at Cas on the shower floor. "Uh...Cas?" "Hm?" Cas hummed absentmindedly, sliding a hand in between his legs. The smaller boy slid two fingers inside of himself and searched for his prostate, wanting to feel the all consuming feeling one more time. The fact that Dean struck it once and didn't again was like watching a teaser to a really good movie and never seeing it. "Was that not good?" Dean asked, kneeling down next to Cas, his limp, cum covered cock practically waving in Cas' face. Castiel smiled and his eyes watched Dean lazily, his gaze slowly trailing to Dean’s cock. "Mmm, it was great, but you teased me and I'm just getting the nagging off my m-IND!" Castiel mewled, his back arching sensually at the pleasure coursing through him. He slowly pulled his fingers out and bit his lip, savoring the aftershocks. "Fuck...." Dean breathed out as he watched Cas pleasure himself. "We're both clean, wanna get out of here? I have something I have to talk to you about in bed." Castiel smiled and nodded standing up beside Dean. "I love you." He whispered, kissing Dean’s jaw lovingly before stepping out of the shower. Dean grinned and turned off the water, wrapping a towel around his waist, before he got another towel, wrapping it around Cas' shoulders. Castiel giggled and leaned into Dean’s hands in appreciation. "Thank you, Dean. I love you." He murmured, kissing Dean’s cheek before padding out to his room and getting in bed, deciding to sleep naked. "What did you want to talk about?" Dean threw on some boxers before he laid down, knowing he'd probably get hard. "So, uh... Let’s say that I have a kink, but you might think it’s weird..." Cas smiled and rolled onto his side, watching Dean fondly. "Dean...you don't have to be embarrassed. You can tell me, and in return I can tell you something embarrassing about me, so it's even." The smaller boy teased, lifting Dean’s ring finger to kiss gently. "I'll love you no matter what you do, or say, or like, or hate. Remember that." Dean bit his lip and turned on his side so he could look at Cas. "Do you know what a voyeur is?" Cas thought for a moment and bit his lip before looking at Dean and nodding with a shy smile. "When someone enjoys watching other people pleasure themselves." He recited, obviously he had studied the dictionary. Dean snorted. "I'm pretty sure that’s the exact definition on Google." He grinned, before shifting around. "Yeah, but uh..." He blushed. "What if I was a voyeur? Would you not like it, or...?" Castiel smiled and chewed on his lip. "If you liked seeing your significant other in pleasure? Of course I don't mind." He said gently, "As long as you only see me like that." The smaller boy warned jokingly. Dean grinned, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers. "Ok, and another thing..." He rolled over Cas, so he was on his hands and knees above the smaller boy. "Lets say..." He ducked his head, laying a long, wet kiss on Cas' neck. "I wanted to roleplay? Like, we could pretend I was coming to your house after school to play video games...and I come upstairs to your room, and your door is open just a crack, and you're jerking your pretty little cock off?" Dean had came to that image more than he would like to admit. Castiel mewled and threw his head back, giving Dean all the room he needed to claim him. "W-We can do that." He gasped out, his eyes fluttering closed. "Thanks, Cas." Dean grinned, giving Cas a dark hickey, overlapping another one. "I'm excited." Castiel let out a stuttering moan, his hand coming up to burrow into Dean's spiky hair. "M-Me too." "Are you into that?" Dean asked, licking at the dark bruise. "You an exhibitionist?" "I like anything you like, I don't know much yet." Cas murmured, swallowing thickly at the small waves of pleasure filling his nerves. Dean pulled away. "It's okay if you think it's weird, Cas, I'd totally understand." "I don't, I think it's perfectly fine." Cas said assuringly, playing with Dean's hair gently. Dean grinned, almost fully hard in his boxers. "Fuck...I'm horny.... When do you wanna do it?" Castiel giggled and teasingly kissed Dean’s nose. "It's getting late, but we can do it now if you want. Or..." Cas said lowly, leaning to Deans ear. "You can come home from school five minutes later than me, and I'll be waiting in the game room." He suggested sensually. "Can we do it now?" Dean looked at Cas with big puppy dog eyes, his cock almost painfully hard already. "Wanna cum looking at you..." Castiel smiled and nodded, kissing Dean once more before standing and jogging to the game room. Cas sat down and took a breath. So he'd just jack off, that's how he needed to do it? Oh god he hoped he didn't mess this up. "W-Wait, Cas." Dean winced lightly, calling Cas back into the room. He really hated to be a stickler, but he had imagined this so many times, he wanted it to be perfect. Castiel embarrassedly walked back, turning deep red. "I did it wrong didn't I..." He mumbled awkwardly. Dean shook his head. "No, no, Cas, of course not, it’s just...I don’t wanna be annoying, but, I've been jerking off to this for at least two years, and I just want everything to be perfect." Dean shrugged, his face bright red. Castiel raised an eyebrow and smirked, stepping forward. "Two years? We have been dating for about four weeks." The smaller boy teased, his own cheeks turning slightly pink. "We've been friends for about ten years, Cas." Dean stepped forward also, lowering his voice. "Who do you think my first wet dream was about?" "L-Lisa, you guys were dating since eighth grade." Cas stuttered, shyly wrapping his arms around his stomach. Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Don’t be so naive, Cas." He smirked, rubbing his cloth-covered boner against Cas' thigh. "It was you...and me...at your 13th birthday party. Remember that one? The pool party? All the girls kept trying to talk to me in their skimpy bikinis, but I couldn't take my eyes off of you..." "N-No, I don't remember. All I remember was me sitting in the corner and reading because no one would talk to me." Cas mumbled, looking down at the floor as if re living the memory. "I wanted to talk to you, Cas." Dean pouted. "This was supposed to be sexy..." He mumbled under his breath, looking at Cas. Cas smiled shyly and looked up, "You're always sexy." He said fondly. "You better fuck me after this." Cas warned, giving Dean a teasing look. "I will, I promise." Dean grinned, before turning around and handing Cas his boxers, a pair of black skinny jeans and an oversized burgundy long sleeved shirt. "Can you put them on... please?" Dean asked, his face flaming red. Castiel laughed and stuck his tongue out, excitedly pulling the clothes on. The smaller boy walked to the mirror in his bathroom and combed his hair into a fawk look before turning back and smiling. He looked like a fuck boy, maybe not a topping fuck boy, but he pulled off a bottom.Dean grinned and handed Cas his black rimmed glasses. "Thank you so much." He grinned, kissing Cas deeply. He couldn't believe Cas was actually gonna do this for him. Cas opened his mouth to say something and moaned, the sound muffled by Dean’s eager lips. He kissed back and barely pulled back to slide the glasses on before slamming their lips back together. "Mmmm, always." He mumbled against Dean’s mouth. Dean pulled on his own clothes and took a step back, giving Cas a once over. "Holy fuck...it’s just like I imagined it..." He took a step forward and put his hands on Cas’ hips, pulling him into a kiss, before he murmured. "I want you...to go sit on the couch...and pull your cock out of your pants...and jerk it off...Sweetheart." He mumbled in between kisses. Castiel giggled happily and nodded, twining his tongue with Dean’s before pulling back and tugging Dean's face to his neck. "Give me one, want one as a reward." He demanded. He fucking loved the feeling of Dean's soft lips on his neck, he couldn't help it. Dean smirked and sucked at Cas' neck, swirling his tongue around on the plane of soft skin, biting little, just to get a really dark mark, so everyone would know Cas was his. Cas let out a breathy moan, sounding needier than ever. "Oh god it feels so good. You're so good at that." He rambled, letting his head fall back. His softening cock began to harden and he bit his lip, a pink blush spreading on his glasses covered cheeks. Dean pulled away once he was satisfied with the mark, nipping once more just for the fun of it. He looked at Cas with a smirk, before he took a step back. "Get goin, baby." Castiel dreamily nodded and darted off, running down the hall to the game room once more. He plopped on the couch and nervously unzipped his jeans, pulling his cock from the gap. The smaller boy turned deep red and remembered that Dean liked it, he wasn't going to embarrass himself. Cas wrapped a hand around his length and slowly began to pump his hand. Dean closed the door so he could see Cas through only a small crack and he moaned softly, watching the boy. Holy fuck...this was just like he had always imagined. He unzipped his own pants, the thought of ‘dirty’ and ‘creep’ rolled through him, and he couldn't have loved it any more. Castiel shyly swiped his thumb over the precum in the slit of his cock, biting his lip. He hasn't done this enough to be good, but he knows from having sex with Dean on what he should do, and that was all he needed. The smaller boy slicked his cock up and began jacking his cock exactly how Dean does, a tiny gasp forcing its way from his throat. Dean whimpered softly and slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling all the noises that were coming through. Shit, this was good, Cas was doing it perfectly. Dean slipped a hand into his boxers and wrapped a hand around his already hard cock. Cas let his thoughts wander to all fantasies he had, but never indulged in. Dean was definitely strong enough to hold him in the air and fuck him. Oh god that would be hot, just being used like a rag doll. The smaller boy tightened his fist, his hips jerking slightly. Cas completely forgot that Dean was even supposed to be watching him, his head falling back on the couch cushion, his plush lips parted in a look of bliss. Dean watched with wide green eyes as Castiel pleasured himself, raking his eyes over Cas' clothed body, his own tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. Dean tightened the hand on his mouth, trying not to let out any sound. Castiel's free hand came up to help muffle his cries, stuffing knuckles in his mouth desperately. The smaller boy let out a strangled moan, jacking his cock faster and faster until his back arched off the bed, a loud moan of Dean's name falling from his lips as he came. Just the thought of Dean fucking him like a mindless ox turned him on so much he didn't even know how to handle it. God he was so glad Dean was a football player. Dean let out a whimper and came all over his hand and the inside of his boxers, listening to Cas' pretty sounds. Dean stumbled in and sat down next to Cas on the couch, breathing heavily. "Th-That was fucking intense for me, Cas." Castiel breathed heavily and squeaked when Dean collapsed beside him, a red look on his face. "You scared me! Don't do that!" He whined. "Sorry." Dean managed, his chest heaving. God, he had wanted that for so long...Cas smiled and rolled onto Dean’s lap, straddling him lovingly. "I'm glad you liked that, I wanted to make you happy." He murmured softly. "I love you." Dean grinned, pecking Cas' lips. "You're too good to me." "Mmm, I think you're amazing." Castiel murmured, moving to kiss and suck along Dean’s neck. "Gonna mark me up?" Dean smirked, tipping his head back so Cas had all the space he wanted. Cas let out a tiny growl and nipped gently, sucking everywhere he could reach. The smaller boy left close to fifty small hickeys, covering Dean's neck with them. They wouldn't last long, but everyone would know Dean was his. Dean looked at Cas and snorted. "Nice choker." He grinned. He had left a purple line of hickeys, all of them connecting across Cas' neck. If someone saw Cas from far away, then would think he was wearing a choker. Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "What?" He asked, his brow furrowing. Little did he know over the course of the past two days Dean had been leaving hickeys only in a line across his neck, playing a game of connect the dots until he had a deep red mixed with dark purple line of hickeys. Dean had literally claimed  him, he left a makeshift collar on him. Dean pulled his phone out of his back pocket, turning on camera and handing it to Cas to he could see himself. Castiel's eyes practically bugged out of his head. "Dean! Ohmygod!" Cas shouted, taking Dean’s phone to look at the hickeys closely. Nope, those would be there for at least two weeks. "That's so not cool!" He whined. "You don't want people to know youre all mine?" Dean smirked, bringing a hand up to press gently at the hickeys. Castiel turned deep red, his eyes bigger and rounder in the magnification of the glasses. "N-No, but it's embarrassing!" He huffed, giving Dean his phone back. Oh, shit, Cas might actually be mad at him. "C-Cas, I'm sorry, I can get you some makeup to cover it up." Dean apologized. Castiel smiled fondly, his smile turning into an evil grin. "Mmm, I kinda like it, makes me feel slutty." The smaller boy teased seductively, moving down to leave a deep purple hickey over Dean’s pulse point in revenge. Dean moaned softly, throwing his head back as he felt his cock start to grow again in his boxers. Cas left a trail of similar hickeys, taking about ten minutes to finish his masterpiece. The smaller boy finished off the last hickey, sucking the skin in between his teeth and licking at it before pulling back. There was a dark 'C' in the center of Dean's neck, his Adam's apple in the center of it. "Mmm, mine." He hummed smugly, revenge was sweet.

        The thing about Jared’s mediocre abilities though? It really wasn’t true. But it spurred Jared on, and each time his attempts to make Jensen fall apart were more elaborate. After the first time Jensen knew what to expect and he stopped breathing so he wouldn’t get smothered by the sex smells again. He was apparently enthusiastic enough to make Jared pop his knot, but he wasn’t going to give the mutt the satisfaction of turning into a begging mess. This time though, Jared didn't rise to the bait. Not exactly. “Because you’re so much better,” he scoffed. Jensen just gave him a condescending smile. “Of course I am. I make you come your brains out, don’t I?” Jared rolled his eyes. “Dude, I’m always stupid after sex. And since I do most of the work and you just kneel there… I think I’m the one who deserves the credit.” It was a cheap play, Jensen knew it. Jared wanted to rile him up, obviously. It wasn’t without truth, what he’d said, Jensen hadn’t really been trying. If he had though… “If you want to take credit for that, sure,” Jensen finally answered. Jared just smiled. “Chicken.” “If you think I’m going to pull a Marty McFly on you, I’m sorry to disappoint.” For a moment, Jared was dumbstruck, then he laughed. “Sure, whatever gets you through the day. Although it’s weird, you know. If it’s so mediocre, why not make it better? If you could?” And well. Jared made a solid argument. They could have good sex. Jared’s dick was definitely one of the bigger specimens Jensen ever had the pleasure of getting acquainted with. Then there was the whole Jared was a werewolf factor, meaning Jensen wouldn’t have to be careful. “Screw it.” Something told Jensen that this might be a bad idea, but he wasn’t sure which part of him that was and why, not when Jared looked hilariously surprised that Jensen was suddenly straddling his lap. “You want good? I’ll be the best you ever had.” “Oh yeah?” Jared asked, eyebrows raised in challenge. “You gonna fuck me?” Jensen scoffed. “I don’t need to fuck you to show you how it’s done.” Jared’s incredulous huff turned into a moan as soon as Jensen dragged his teeth down Jared’s neck. “We’ll see,” the were muttered. Jensen just grinned against his skin, fingers softly running down his sides before he put his mouth to the hollow of Jared’s throat and bit down. Hot blood flooded his mouth and Jensen had become so accustomed to Jared’s taste, the overwhelming aroma almost didn't bother him anymore. “That’s cheating,” Jared managed to get out, but his breathing was already laboured and his heartbeat was speeding up. Jensen drew back, pushing Jared down onto the hard floor. Slowly, he dragged his mouth down Jared’s impressive chest, over his thumping heart and Jensen thought he could actually hear the sound of the blood rushing through Jared’s veins. Jared shuddered under Jensen’s tongue, leaned up into his touch and Jensen carefully traced the ridges of Jared’s abdominal muscles. “That wasn’t cheating,” Jensen murmured into Jared’s hip. “But this is.” “Wha-” Jared’s voice trailed off into a broken moan when Jensen pulled Jared’s jeans down and buried his teeth in the crease of Jared’s thigh. Not in the femoral artery, but at an extremely sensitive and vulnerable point close to it, and Jared gripped Jensen’s hair tightly, claws scratching lightly along his scalp. “Oh fuck, you fucking bloodsucker, this is-” Jensen sucked harder and Jared almost screamed. With a satisfied smile, Jensen moved on. He licked along the underside of Jared’s dick, reveling in its length and thickness, before sucking it into his mouth to get it wet. He hadn’t planned on giving Jared a blowjob, but once he started, he didn’t want to stop. He’d missed this, the rush of power, the helpless noises and compulsive grips in his hair, the involuntary thrusts, the endless demand for more and more just because Jensen put his mouth there. Coming from Jared, it was even better. There was nothing left of the wolf’s usual smugness and when the base of Jared’s dick started to swell, the were’s wordless moans turned into actual pleas for Jensen to just get on his dick already. If Jensen wasn’t so turned on himself, he might have made Jared suffer. As it was, he wet his fingers with spit, pushed two of them inside himself. It was always rough at first, until Jared’s dick started leaking more precome, but this time, Jared was already so wet, it would be an easy slide. Jensen climbed on top of Jared’s body and positioned himself under Jared’s hungry stare. It was the first time he was able to see his face during sex, and it made a flash of heat shoot through his body, how Jared’s eyes were dark from lust-blown pupils, occasional flashes of yellow in his irises. Jared’s hands came up to grip Jensen’s hips when he lowered himself on Jared’s dick and they moaned in unison. Then it was all heat and friction, Jared’s hands running reverently across Jensen’s skin, claws scratching his chest and back. They didn’t last long, Jared’s knot already swelling, and when Jensen stroked himself, getting himself off on Jared’s dick and the completely destroyed expression on his face, spurting all over Jared’s stomach, the wolf came with a howl that was more animal than human. Jensen was panting, and he couldn’t stop, body burning like it hadn’t for a long time and he leaned forwards, supporting himself with his hands on the cool ground. “Told you so,” he said, and he had trouble recognizing his own voice. Jared just hummed, letting one big hand fall on Jensen’s neck and pulling him down on his chest. They were sticky and Jared was sweaty, but Jensen didn’t mind. He didn’t realize that he wasn’t even bothered by the smells anymore, didn’t feel smothered or suffocated until Jared’s knot had gone down and they stood up to clean up. He just felt comfortable. It was hard to catalogue this feeling at first, it had been so long since he’d last felt this way. With the feeling came the memories of losing it. It never lasted, never could, because Jensen wasn’t cut out to live in a manner that would make people want to give him affection. Angry at himself, Jensen turned away, stepping under the shower and washing all the traces of sex away. It wasn’t sensible to become attached to something that was only created as an illusion anyway. Down here, forced together in 90 square feet of darkness and desperation they found a comfort in each other that could never survive in real life. Jensen couldn’t afford to rely on something that wouldn’t be there if they ever got out of here. Something that wouldn’t last for long and would leave a bigger hole behind. He’d only tried to intentionally find an anchor in a living thing once, a stray cat that had taken up residence in the alley behind his apartment in London. They had become something like friends, both solitary creatures of the night, finding solace in each other. The scars of leaving the only coven he’d ever known, when he’d realized how much he’d wanted to be there until he had to leave, still hadn’t healed. So Jensen had named the cat Amanda, after the former, permanently scowling landlady that had rented out the house next to Felicia’s, and when the cat had died after six years together, it had ripped a hole in Jensen’s life he hadn’t thought possible. He had tied his emotions and ability to care so closely to her that, without that anchor, it seemed like nothing could keep him in the human world anymore. He’d drifted and only the fact that he’d traveled the world, a new city every week, visiting places he’d never seen before, had kept him sane. Looking back he’d realized Amanda had been a band-aid, trying to cover the pain of leaving Felicia and the coven. He’d gone back to his maker then, asking for guidance, only to find that there was none to be had. “Considering we just had amazing sex, you look incredibly unhappy.” Jared’s voice ripped Jensen out of his thoughts and he scowled at the wolf. “My thoughts are my business.” Jared raised his hands placatingly and pushed past Jensen towards the shower. “Sure, whatever.”   Later, when they were both clean and more or less dry, Jared sat down next to Jensen on the cot. He hadn’t bothered with clothes and Jensen stared at a triangle of moles over his left hipbone. “If you want to talk,” Jared said, “I can listen.” Then he shifted and laid down on the cot. He put his head on Jensen's leg and wagged his tail once. Jensen snorted but after a while he found himself talking. “I was just thinking of my maker.” Jensen wasn’t ready to talk about Felicia yet, about his own failures. Talking about Timothy was safer. At least there Jensen wasn’t at fault. “He was very old, very powerful. His anchor was a human woman, the love of his life. She didn’t want to become immortal, so he had to watch her die. She had children before she met him, so after she died, he became her family’s, well, guardian angel is not exactly the right word-” Jared chuffed. “But he followed their fates, helped out whenever he could. For generations, that was what he did. He studied, everything from astronomy to botany and watched over her family. When the last descendant died, he was lost. He tried to bury himself in his research, but it wasn’t enough. The first time he drank someone dry, he realized he’d become the monster she would never have wanted him to be.” Jensen stopped, thinking of the relief in Timothy’s eyes when he’d found him. It was a memory that had always made him uncomfortable and he was glad that Jared’s fur under his hand was warm and soft, a grounding feeling. “He went back through the family tree and found the one person that had emigrated to the Americas. Not a very successful line and by the time Timothy found me, I was the only one left.” Jared’s ears twitched, obviously more interested now that the story had turned to Jensen. “I was living in Texas. Not a lot of fun back then. My family had died when I was young and the local smith had taken me in. It was a hard life and I was bored. I knew I didn’t fit in, especially not since I had no intention of marrying. People were already talking. When Timothy showed up, I said yes without even thinking about it. He offered me the world.” Jensen laughed. “Unfortunately the world is not all it’s cracked up to be when you realize your ability to feel almost completely disappears the moment your heart stops beating.” Jared’s nose nudged his belly, clearly saying you’re not that bad. “I make do. You learn to find different kinds of joys.” Jared made a whiny noise that sounded inquisitive. “Timothy?” Jensen asked and Jared nodded. “He was… he tried to be a good mentor. And he was, in a way. He taught me everything I needed to know. But he had hoped that I could be his anchor. Apparently I look like her; same eyes, same smile. But we never felt that way towards each other. I think, on a level, he’d always looked out for a reincarnation of her and never found it. I was his last shot and it didn’t work. We traveled together for a few years, but then we split up. The next time I saw him, he was climbing into his own grave.” An old mausoleum, built by one of Jensen’s great-great-great uncles, out of use for centuries had served as Timothy’s final resting place. “If it becomes too boring, I shall return,” he’d said before Jensen hat put the heavy stone lid in place. The both knew it was highly unlikely. Once a vampire chose to go to sleep, they stayed there. If Jensen had expected Timothy’s death to change anything, he’d been wrong. Despite being his maker, they’d never really formed a deep connection. Timothy had already been too dead and Jensen too blinded by the excitement of being a newborn vampire to notice how much he was losing himself. “So either you become the bloodthirsty monster your kind thinks we are or you just slowly continue to die until your mind is as dead as your heart.” Jared gave a short howl and Jensen patted his head. “Or you find an anchor, yes.” He was sure that Jared wanted to ask more, wanted to know about Jensen’s anchor, but Jensen didn’t want to talk about it. His methods had never been all that successful and being down here, seeing how quickly he came to rely on a person he actually detested - well, it didn’t give a lot of credit to Jensen’s techniques. But that was nothing he wanted to share with Jared. “Go to sleep, Jared. It’s only seven days until the full moon; you’ll need your strength.”         “So you finally found a good way to pass the time.” Alaina and Benito were standing on the other side of the bars. Benito looked disgusted, but Alaina was smirking. For the first time, Jensen wished he could just turn into an animal. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. Jared saved him by laughing and raising an eyebrow. “Jealous much? You two don’t smell like you’re having a lot of fun up there.” Benito scowled. “There are more important things in life than having fun.” “That’s just sad, man,” Jared said and clicked his tongue. “Besides, I know for a fact you jerk off every night. It gets especially… intense after you were in close contact with a certain blonde-” “Shut your fucking mouth!” the hunter interrupted him too late. Alaina was already smirking cruelly. “Really? You have the hots for little Nicky? That girl could be your daughter, you pervert.” “She’s twenty-five,” Benito bit out and turned to leave. Alaina’s cackling laughter followed him up the stairs. Before she walked out of sight, she turned around to them, winked and mouthed a thanks. Then she was gone. “How did you know?” Jensen asked as soon as the door closed behind the hunters. Jared grinned self-satisfied. “Like I said, I could smell it.” “Why didn’t you say something?” Jared shrugged. “I thought you knew. Heard something.” He’d heard Benito jerk off, but he hadn’t made the connection to his encounters with Nicky. “Besides,” Jared continued happily, “I wanted to save it for maximum impact. He’ll never hear the end of it. And if I know Alaina, she’s totally gonna tattle on him. Should be fun.” “You’re such a child,” Jensen just said although secretly he thought Jared was right and it was a smart move to bring it up now. They could use all the discord in the hunter camp they could get.         “You know, I always wondered how you mysterious vampires finance your lives?” Jared mused out loud while he was eating his meal of the day - Whataburger, and seriously, Jared expected the heart attack any day now, werewolf metabolism notwithstanding. Quizzing Jensen on his life was a good distraction from the fat overkill, pun fully intended. “Like, do you steal from your unsuspecting victims? Are you kept... vampires? Or do you all just have mysterious stashes of money and jewelry? Old bonds, like the original Microsoft shares?” Jared thought it was a testament to his persistence that Jensen didn’t even sigh anymore. He knew there was no escaping Jared’s curiosity. “You watch too many bad movies,” Jensen said dryly. “And teen TV shows.” Jared pointed a cold fry at Jensen. “Takes one to know one. And seriously, Damon Salvatore is fucking hot.” “Have some class,” Jensen scoffed. “If you want to lust after fictional vampires at least go for Louis de Pointe du Lac.” Of fucking course Jensen would remember Brad Pitt’s character’s full name. “If you want blond, Eric Northman is hotter, because less broody. And trust me, you brood enough for a whole coven.” “I don’t brood, Jared, I just take our situation seriously.” But Jared thought he could hear a smile in Jensen’s voice. Score. It took him a while to realize Jensen had weaseled his way out of answering Jared’s question. “You didn’t answer my question.” “Ten points for figuring that out,” Jensen said dryly. It had become a game to try to remember the most appropriate pop culture reference he could come up with and see if Jensen recognized it. This time Jared went back to something he’d been saving for days. “You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.” “The Mummy? Really?” Jensen asked exasperated. “You’ve seriously seen The Mummy? And liked it enough to remember?” Jensen stared angrily at the ceiling. Oh no, this was too good to let go. “Is there anything you don’t watch? The Mummy,” Jared said incredulously. “I mean, weren’t you bitching through the whole movie, ‘that’s not how you dressed back then’, ‘that’s not how you-’” “Jared, can you just shut the fuck up?” Jared did, but only because Jensen sounded legitimately exhausted. Annoyed, but defeated somehow. He definitely crossed a line there, made Jensen genuinely unhappy and it did things to Jared’s heart. Made it clench in regret. Probably out of pity. It didn’t look like Jensen had friends or family, he was just a loner vampire and with the non-frequency he smiled, he could say all he wanted, but he wasn’t happy with his life. “Sorry,” Jared finally said. Not that Jensen would care. To his surprise, Jensen huffed. “It keeps me human,” he said, then smiled self-deprecatingly. “Well, human-like.” Jared sensed a rare chance to actually try to figure out the puzzle that was Jensen, so he slowly sat up, trying not to seem too eager. “What do you mean?” Jensen was silent for so long, Jared thought he might not answer, but then he spoke. “Stuart was right about us. We are dead. Most of us don’t realize what it means. There are no emotions anymore, you just don’t care. So we find other ways to feel. Blood is good. Power. I don’t know why, but the negative emotions, they’re easier to harness. “Some of us look for enlightenment. Become scholars, researchers. Where do we come from, where do we go, what’s the meaning of all this. They are the ones who eventually fade, go to rest.” “Why?” Jared asked. Jensen looked at him. “Because they never find any answers.” He looked back up at the ceiling. “And some of us want to stay human. Happy. They find anchors, things they care about. Some become collectors. Jewels, art, stamps. I once knew a guy who collected purple buttons. It doesn’t matter what it is, if only it anchors you. Gives you purpose and caring. I never found that. So, I read. Watch TV. Bathe in the emotions of others.” “Does it work?” Jared asked. “You tell me.” Jared thought about it. About how cold Jensen was, how calculating. How much he liked to use words as weapons. How little he cared about human lives. How he’d come back to save Jared’s life instead of escaping without him. “You could do better,” was what he finally settled on. “But you’re not a lost cause.” Jensen laughed, sharp and surprised. “You don’t have to woo me, Jared. I’m already letting you fuck me.” “That-” Jared broke off and stared at Jensen. “Dude.” “Don’t dude me.” “Okay, grumpy, I think you need some cuddles.” By the time Jensen turned his head to glare at him, Jared had already shucked the jeans and shifted. Jensen gave a long suffering sigh, but he did sink his hand into the thick fur of Jared’s back. Jared didn’t know why it felt like a victory, but it did.         “So what did you do before they had movies?” They were lying together on the cot. It was a tight fit, so they were pressed against each other head to feet. Jensen had made Jared take a shower before. As a matter of fact, since they started project scent-sharing, Jensen insisted on Jared showering twice a day. Jared protested that constant showering wasn’t helping to spread his scent and Jensen argued he was only able to stand so much of Eau de Jared. So Jared showered twice a day and he thought he started smelling more like the disgusting soap than himself. “What do you mean, before the movies?” Jensen asked, pushing Jared’s legs towards the edge of the cot to make more room for himself. Jared moved his legs back. “You know that cuddling kind of requires physical contact, right? And I mean, back in the day, the 1800s, you know, what did you use as an anchor?” Jensen poked his legs sharply. “We are not cuddling. And just because there were no movies, doesn’t mean there was no display of emotion, no entertainment. Have you never been to a theater, you heathen? A concert? Wait, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.” “When we get out of here, I really have to buy you that pearl necklace.” Jensen kicked Jared in the shoulder. “I’m going to enjoy choking you with it.” “You’re so mean,” Jared sighed theatrically. “We’re never gonna be true mates like that.” There was no verbal answer, but Jensen’s disapproving snort said more than a whole movie.          “Are you a call-boy?” This time, Jensen did throw Jared off the cot. Jared just shook it off and tried to give Jensen a sympathetic expression. “Is that why you don’t want to tell me what you do for money? It’s okay Jensen, you can tell me.” Jensen rolled his eyes and it was so beautiful, Jared wished he had a judge’s sign with a number ten on it to hold up. As it was, he had to settle for applauding. “Mentally you're still five years old, right?” Jensen asked. Jared crawled back up on the cot and took Jensen’s hands even though he tried to pull them away. “Jensen, you still haven’t told me.” There was a glint in Jensen’s eyes and the corners of his mouth were twitching. Jared couldn’t believe it. “Oh my god, you fucker, you’re just not telling me to torture me!” Leaning back, Jensen wrenched a hand free and patted Jared’s head. “Another ten points. I knew there was still hope for you.” “Asshole.” “Does that mean I get my personal space back now?” Jared grinned. “No way.” Then he took off his jeans and shifted. Sometimes, when they’d cuddled long enough and Jensen forgot that Jared annoyed him, he’d pet him. It was an absent-minded movement, like Jensen had owned a pet in another life. There were werewolves who thought being petted like a dog was offensive, but Jared had always thought that was ridiculous. He was a tactile guy and he loved getting his head scratched, never mind if he was in his human or wolf shape. And Jensen had mad scratching skills. Surreptitiously, Jared pushed his head under Jensen’s hand and he was rewarded with Jensen reflexively moving his fingers through Jared’s fur. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to think about what this meant, the easy camaraderie they’d fallen into, how unbothered they were by sharing space and touches. Jensen was still a vampire, but Jared had come to suspect that there were more emotions buried in that cold, still chest than Jensen liked to admit. Jared wondered what it would be like to dig them out, if he’d like what he’d find. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to take a risk like that, but when Jensen moved his fingers with more purpose and started telling Jared about the first Muhammad Ali fight he’d seen, Jared had a creeping feeling he didn’t have a choice anymore.          It was when Jared tried to build a fort out of his waffle fries and joked about his roommate Chad probably selling his video game collection on ebay by now that Jensen snapped. “Jesus fuck, can you never take anything seriously?” “The world is serious enough, don’t you think?” “Don’t go all philosophical on me, it doesn’t become you.” “Hey, I was just answering your question.” Something in how he said it must have given him away because Jensen was looking at him, really looking, green eyes boring into Jared, like they could see into his soul. “Is this about your parents?” Jared crushed the fries in his hands. “What?” “The reason you don’t take anything seriously. Is that because of your parents?” “Really?” Jared asked angrily. “You’re the one watching shitty reality TV so you don’t turn into an unfeeling monster and you judge my coping mechanism?” Jensen quirked his lips. “Fair enough.” Jared was so surprised, he toppled his fry fort over.        “I lived with a coven once.” “Huh?” Jared looked up from his meal, ketchup smeared in the corner of his mouth. Jensen made a noise between amusement and frustration. “You asked about my coven once.” He wasn’t sure what made him want to share this particular part of his life now, but somehow, without Jared’s constant chatter, the cell became smaller, the walls thicker. Choking him even though he didn’t need the air. Slowly, Jared swallowed and put his soggy burger down. “So you did have a coven?” “Not really.” Jensen snorted at himself. He hadn’t really had anything in his life. “I met a young vampire and we became friends. She was… extraordinary. I’ve never met a vampire so full of life, so good. She is just that, pure and good. She likes to help people.” Jared was smiling at him now. “Her, I’ve got to meet.” “Her name is Felicia. She and her coven live in San Diego.” Jensen paused, pretending to think. “She might even like you.” Jared let out a bark of laughter. “If you say so.” Jensen couldn’t keep himself from smiling. He knew she would. It was quiet for a while and Jared went back to eating his meal of the day. Jensen was lost in his memories, remembering Felicia’s pure hunger for life and happiness. “Why didn't it work out?” Jared’s question pulled Jensen out of his thoughts. “Felicia’s coven and you, I mean.” “I found out I am not made for stationary life.” Jensen knew his voice was full of bitterness. This was not a time he liked to remember. The growing detachment he hadn’t noticed until it was too late and he was ankle-deep in the blood of the couple he’d slaughtered. Felicia’s understanding look, full of sorrow and pity. The leader’s kind words when she told him they all cherished him, but that he had to leave, that he couldn’t be a part of their group. And the dark hole he’d fallen into afterwards that he’d never really managed to climb out of. When Jensen looked up, Jared was looking at him with a thoughtful expression. “What?” Jensen snapped. “Nothing. I just… It’s weird that you keep living this life you so obviously hate.” “Would you rather I live my life differently?” Jared shook his head. “No. The question is, why don’t you?” Jensen looked away. “Contrary to what you may think, not every vampire wants to become a monster.” There was only silence after that and when Jensen chanced a surreptitious look at Jared a few moments later, the wolf had finished with his meal but was absentmindedly tearing a napkin into little pieces, looking out into the basement with a faraway look in his eyes. Jensen closed his eyes. He did not want to know what Jared was thinking about. He did not.         The greasy burger bag landed with a dull thud outside of the bars and Jared got up to wash his hands. They hadn’t talked a lot today. Usually Jared was the one to instigate a conversation, but today he’d been quiet. “Don’t tell me the big bad wolf is nervous?” Jensen asked. They had whispered at length last night, curled up against each other on the cot, about how they were going to play this. They - well, Jensen - had considered all eventualities, all possible scenarios that could unfold. They were as prepared as they could be with contingency plans for getting thwarted at every stage of their escape, what to do when one of them was too hurt to go on. It was still a long shot if they would make it, but there was nothing more they could do. Jared still was nervous. Jensen didn’t want Jared to be nervous. A nervous Jared could mess up their plan. A nervous Jared could give them away. A nervous Jared made Jensen uncomfortable, made something in chest constrict, made him feel restless, as if there was something he should be doing. Jensen didn’t like that feeling and he didn’t really know what to do with it. It had been cropping up, now and then, the past few weeks and it was… it was not a good thing. “Come on, Jared-” Jared turned around, glaring at Jensen. “Can we just not… this time?” “Not what?” “I’m just really tired of the fighting, okay? And if it doesn’t work and this is our last day on earth…” Jensen scoffed. Jared looked at him angrily, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah, don’t know why I even asked.” It stung, somehow, that Jared expected to be hurt by Jensen. And even though Jared was going all mushy-we’re-going-to-die-tomorrow on him, if he was being honest with himself Jensen didn’t want to fight either. It wasn’t that he needed comfort or affection or whatever the hell it was Jared was looking for, but he didn’t want to fight. “Look, I-” he wasn’t really sure how to go from there, but it seemed enough for Jared who suddenly relaxed. “It’s okay. I mean - I’m sorry I went off like that.” Jensen didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think Jared had ever apologized. Jared walked over then and sat down next to Jensen. “Let’s just… do this, and maybe not insult each other.” Jensen fought off a smile. “I don’t think that’s possible.” “Ass.” “See?” Jared laughed, loud and uninhibited, dimples coming out while he threw his head back for a moment. Jensen didn’t think he’d ever seen him laugh like that. It did things to him, made him feel things and Jensen needed it to stop. He ripped his shirt off and stood to take off his pants. Behind him, Jared made a choked off noise and trailed a hand softly over his lower back. Too softly. “You need to get naked too, you know,” Jensen said, but his voice was missing the bite. Jared huffed but got up and Jensen could hear the rustling of denim behind him. He didn’t turn around, the air of their cell suddenly filled with something thick and heavy he couldn’t name. For once in their time together, Jared didn’t comment, just stepped up against Jensen’s back and put his hands on Jensen’s hips. Jared’s hot breath tickled the hair in the nape of his neck and then Jared pressed a kiss just below his ear. “We'll be fine,” he said, almost too quiet to hear. “They won’t know what hit them.” Jensen wanted to scoff, tell him he didn’t need his reassurance, but instead he leaned back against Jared’s broad chest. Jared’s arms surrounded him, hugged him tight against the wolf and it felt more intimate than anything they’d ever done before. There was no space between them, Jared’s scent cloying up Jensen’s nose and his heartbeat loud against Jensen’s back. Jared was moving, breathing, heart beating, alive against Jensen’s cold and still body. It was too much. Jensen turned around, bringing his mouth right to Jared’s pulsepoint and he bit down, letting his fangs descend carefully. A broken moan made its way out of Jared’s throat while Jensen let his blood flow past his teeth, drank it more greedily than he ever had, and Jared leaned into it, hands gripping Jensen more tightly. They were both hard, hips jerking forwards, seeking friction while their hands couldn’t stay still. Jared finally ripped Jensen’s mouth away from his neck, “too much, it’s too much, need to leave some-” but Jensen didn’t hear the rest, because yes, it was too much, too much contact, too much blood, too much emotion that he didn’t know how to control. Somehow they landed on the hard floor, cold to Jared but nothing Jensen could feel. Jared’s face was right above Jensen’s, their noses touching while their bodies moved frantically against each other. Jensen could feel Jared’s breath on his face, on his mouth, their lips almost touching, sharing air Jensen didn’t need. When their lips touched, Jensen turned his head away, burying it in the crook of Jared’s neck, pressing his lips against the healing tears his teeth had ripped. This was what he knew, this was safe. Jared made a noise of protest, but he still didn’t say anything, didn’t mock or tease Jensen, just maneuvered himself to lie between Jensen’s legs. It was rough and hard, only the sound of skin on skin and Jared’s muffled moans resounding off the cell walls. Jensen pulled his face back from Jared’s neck, couldn’t stay close, not when the feeling of pressure was building low in his abdomen and he felt like he was suffocating all over again. He looked up to the ceiling, focused on the cracks in the concrete. Distantly, he realized Jared had started panting, sounds that formed broken variations of Jensen’s name, other words that he couldn’t know the meaning of, until his orgasm rushed through him, taking his ability to think away for one blissful moment.   After, they didn’t talk. Jensen got dressed in the rags his clothes had been reduced to and Jared just sat down naked on the cot, hugging his legs to his body. The light in the basement was dimming; the sun outside must have started to set. Jensen thought about finding words to break the silence, but Jared had his eyes closed and head turned away. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but then again he might have an idea if he thought about it. It was not a line of thought he wanted to pursue. If they managed to get out, there were things better left down here.         The pull of the moon was strong, seeping through his pores, even though the thick walls kept the direct light out. Jared yearned for and dreaded the contact on his bare skin in equal parts. His wolf was craving the moon, wanted to bathe in it, roll around in moonlit grass and howl its longing up to its warm glow. Jared knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on to his humanity, would turn into the animal the hunters accused him of being, mindlessly ruled by his instincts. And he knew where his instincts would lead. He just didn’t know if he’d be able to go back. If he wanted to. If Jensen would let him. Jensen, who had been silent for the last half hour. Who claimed not to feel, never to feel, but still didn’t want to turn into a monster. Jared didn’t know how to do this. Because no matter how he looked at Jensen, how hard he tried to see the monster, the enemy, he couldn’t stop. Would never be able to stop. He let out a snort and wondered how he’d missed that their little charade had stopped being pretend. At least for him. “You okay?” Jensen’s voice was low and hoarse, filled with hidden worry. Jared tried to give him a smirk, but he guessed it looked more like a grimace. “The pull of the moon is stronger than usual ‘cause I was cooped up down here, you know?” Jensen nodded. “But it won’t change anything?” “It shouldn’t.” They were quiet after that, until Jared couldn’t take it anymore and started pacing. Judging by the light, or lack thereof, the sun had finally set. The moon was slowly rising, gathering strength and the need to shift became overbearing. Jared pulled in a deep breath, smelled the stale air of the basement overlaid by his and Jensen’s mixed scents. It had become hard to tell where one ended and the other began and Jared could only hope it would save them. He chanced one last look at Jensen, feeling his canines already elongating against his will. “See you on the other side,” he said and let the shift take over.   Immediately, the pressure lessened. He was a wolf, on four paws, he could roll around under the moon. He breathed in and there it was, the scent of vamp. It made his hackles stand on end, because there was a different scent too, something clean and clear, resonating through his whole being with an undeniable clarity. Mate. He was smelling his mate. Jensen. Jensen was his mate. Jared remembered their conversations like a dream, something about scent sharing and fooling the wolf, something about faking, but this was not fake. This was real. The moon was telling him the truth. He didn’t register the clicking and hissing sounds as threats, too occupied by this revelation of mate, until the stinking smoke filled his nostrils. Wolfsbane. Jared shook his head, tried to get the smoke out of his nose. It felt like the fog was creeping into his head, dulling his senses, dulling a part of himself. “Jared?” a voice asked. His mate’s voice. “Hey, c’mon, focus. Look at me, okay.” How could he not? His mate was beautiful. Strong and tall, eyes like meadow grass and golden dots littered over his flawless skin. “Jared! Dammit, you have to fight it.” Fight? There was nothing to fight, there was only mate. With two leaps he was up in Jensen’s lap, shuffling his snout under his mate’s ear, just breathing in that scent. There was coldness and a silence that confused him, no heart beat to sound in sync with his, then his mate’s hand carded through his fur, scratched his neck in just the right way, like only a mate could. “It worked.” His mate let out a laugh of disbelief, then he tumbled them off the cot. “Let’s get on with the plan.” His mate started to move them, playfighting really, wanting to see Jared’s prowess. Jared immediately jumped back and growled, circling his mate. Jensen got up, eyes glowing and fangs lengthening and he was terrifyingly beautiful. Jared charged and once again they fell to the floor, rolled around until Jensen let him stay on top, baring his neck. Jared leaned down, carefully closing his teeth around his mate’s neck. “You have to bite me, dammit,” his mate hissed. Jared closed his teeth, because of course his mate would want a claiming bite. His mate was strong and hard, a vampire his mind supplied, Jared needed to bite down hard. Cold blood filled Jared’s mouth, tasting of mate and him and it made him want to howl his happiness up to the moon. The moon he couldn’t see. He looked around and he realized they were underground, trapped, in a cell. Captured. His mate was captured. He needed to get them out. He needed- His mate hit him in the face, then pulled him back in. “Focus, dammit. We need to give them a fight! Come on, Jared, you have to remember. Concentrate!” Jared was confused. Why would his mate want to fight? They needed to escape, they needed to get out, to the moon. His mate pulled him in tighter and suddenly the smell of fresh blood filled the air. His mate had cut himself. “The hunters, Jared! Goddam fucking mutt, knew this was a stupid idea.” It rushed back to him then, Jensen’s icy tone of voice, the plan, the escape. He needed to pretend to kill his mate so they could escape. Every fibre of Jared’s being wanted to protest, to shy away, to curl protectively around Jensen, but this was what he had to do. He wrapped his jaws around Jensen’s throat and shook him. Jensen screamed, then stilled. Jared sat back on his haunches, looked at Jensen pale and unmoving. He couldn’t stop himself from howling. His attention was ripped away from Jensen when the basement door opened and the hunters came down. Stuart, Alaina, Benito, Nicky and Bowman. Their names flooded his mind, bringing his human memories up. They were all wearing self-satisfied smiles. Jared’s hackles raised. “Shoot him,” Stuart ordered, “but don’t kill him. We may be able to use him again.” Bullets came flying at him and Jared tried to evade them, but there were too many and they tore through his body. There was pain, sure, but with the pain he could deal, but then fire started spreading through his body, making him tense up and spasm, unable to control his burning limbs. Wolfsbane, some detached part of his mind told him. And not the nice kind. He heard the door of their cell screech open and tried to crane his head to see the threat. He needed to protect his mate, he needed to protect Jensen. But his body wouldn’t obey and the hunters walked past him, three pairs of legs, carrying long iron sticks with ropes and hooks attached to them. “Remember, don’t touch him. I don’t want even the slightest contamination of the body.” Stuarts voice was distant, like it was dulled by dense fog. There was mumbling, but Jared couldn’t understand anything over the roaring in his ears. He just knew they were taking his mate away and there was nothing he could do. Then the noises intensified, there was screaming, a commotion right next to him, but he couldn’t move his head, couldn’t see. A leg flew through his field of vision, the hunters screamed again, but he could only focus on his mate’s sudden breathing, his snarls and the unmistakable sound of claws ripping through flesh. His mate was alive and fighting. Through the agony, Jared felt elated. Jensen was alive. Then there were cool hands - Jensen’s hands - in his fur and if Jared were a werecat, he’d have purred. As it was, he tried to push up into the hands but Jensen was talking and really, Jared should listen, it was all just so fuzzy. Even worse than the one time he and Chad had gotten shitfaced on wolfsbane liquor. He heard Jensen sigh, put out, but he’d heard that sigh a hundred times and he knew his mate was only pretending to be annoyed. Then he was lifted and he realized that Jensen was carrying him out. Up the stairs, and the change in air permeated the confusion in Jared’s mind. They were above ground. There were more noises then, people yelling and Jared got dumped on the ground. The impact hurt his whole body and the burning sensation intensified. Next to him, his mate was fighting, protecting him, and when an unfamiliar boot stepped next to his head, Jared gathered whatever strength he had and lunged. It didn’t get him far, but he managed to bite into a leg, ripped it open and crunched bones. There was screaming, but then his mate was there, pleased, saying “good boy.” Dog jokes, a dry voice in Jared’s mind said. How original. He didn't know why, but it made him want to smile. Then they were outside and fresh air filled his nose. The pull of the moon intensified, made him want to stretch and run, howl to the moon, howl with the pack- Pack. It was there, suddenly, the sense of pack and alpha, weak and distant, but there, unmistakable, filling a giant void in him only Jensen’s presence had patched up during the last few weeks. He was briefly distracted by the sharp pain of nails digging into his chest, but it was only his mate, only Jensen, digging the burning bullets out of his chest. The pain started to recede and the influence of the moon helped Jared to heal and focus. Jensen left for a bit, then the scent of smoke filled the air. It shocked Jared out of his daze. His heart started rabbiting away in his chest until Jensen was there, green eyes huge, shaking Jared’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, we’re out.” And Jared realized that this was a different house, a different time. He was here with Jensen and they were safe. This time, it was Stuart who burned.     After   “Can you shift?” Jensen asked, serious expression and concern in his eyes. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but for his mate, Jared could. It was his inner instinct to remain wolf under the moon, but for Jensen, he would shift. It hurt, his body still not completely healed, but it was worth it for the relief on Jensen’s face. With his human body, the last of his human thoughts came back. He didn’t know what to say, too many thoughts competing in his brain, so what came out was, “Any chance you managed to save me a pair of pants?” Jensen snorted. “So that’s a no then.” They were silent for a moment. “So I assume your alpha is going to come for you now.” “Yeah.” Jeff. He’d see Jeff again. He smiled, then another gust of smoke carried over to them. “They’re all dead?” he asked with a nod to the burning house. “Yeah.” Jensen’s voice was flat. “On a scale of fluffy Ewok to Emperor Palpatine, how much did you enjoy killing them?” Jensen’s mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile, then his expression hardened. “More than I should.” And Jared hated the look of self-loathing in Jensen’s eyes. “They held us prisoner for a month. They tortured us,” he tried. Jensen shook his head. “They would’ve killed us.” “That doesn’t matter.” “So go binge-watch some Sherlock,” Jared said, realizing how ridiculous that sounded, but he couldn’t give up. “All the feels, right?” Jensen didn’t even roll his eyes. “It wasn’t really working before, why should it now?” “But you didn’t kill anyone. Right?” Jared hated that it came out as a question. Jensen’s smirk was cruel. “No- But keeping yourself from killing someone based on moral reasons, that’s a decision. Enjoying killing someone when you have to… that’s not something you can control. I told you, only a few of us can avoid becoming monsters, and I’m clearly not one of them.” Jared pulled in a deep breath. All or nothing. “What if you had a better anchor?” Jensen's head turned slowly. “What?” “A better connection to your emotions.” “No.” “You know there’s something here, Jensen.” “You’re a wolf.” Jared scoffed. “Don’t be speciest.” “Don’t be-” Jensen incredulously shook his head. “You’re a child.” Jared looked down at his body. “Pretty sure I’m an adult where it matters. Besides, you’re mature enough for the both of us.” Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose and his eyes started glowing in an eery dark green. “Jared, you are a barely housebroken puppy who never takes anything seriously because you bury all your emotions. I don’t have emotions anymore.” “Don’t know about that, you seem pretty angry right now.” Jensen’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. “There is nothing here. We shared a cell for a month. We fucked. Don’t go confusing this with something it will never be.” Jared got up and angrily walked over to Jensen. His blood was rushing under his skin, the setting moon still a powerful draw. “You’re scared,” he bit out, getting up in Jensen’s space. “You’re just fucking scared to care again and get hurt. But you won’t, okay? I know exactly what I’m feeling here, you’re my mate and I-” “I am not your mate!” Jensen yelled and his fangs descended. “It was pretend, Jared!” Jared lunged forward, grabbing Jensen’s face and pulling him in for a hard kiss. It felt like an eternity, his mouth moving over Jensen’s, the moon over his head and when Jensen’s lips parted, for a split second, everything felt right. Triumph rushed through Jared and he pulled himself back. “Does this feel like pretend? Like I’m confused?” “Yes.” Jared felt like he was drenched with a bucket of ice water. Jensen was incredibly still, mouth pressed into a thin line. “I cannot imagine how you would think we could ever enter in a relationship,” Jensen said, voice stilted. “You might think I am your mate now but when the moon wanes, so will your feelings for me. As for me, like I said before, I don’t have feelings.” Jared opened his mouth - he didn’t know if he wanted to protest or call Jensen out on falling back into his bullshit pretentious language, but Jensen cut him off. “Jared, get it into your fucking head. There is nothing here! Nothing. You’re delusional and I don’t care like that, I just fucking can’t.” The anger boiling in Jared took over. It filled him, dark and ugly and he stabbed a finger at Jensen. “Fine. Fuck you, Jensen. Go back to your movies and books, but if you think that that keeps you alive, we have two very fucking different opinions of living. I mean, look at you, you live in a fucking fantasy world because you’re too afraid to live in the real one.” “I’m not afraid,” Jensen said stoically. “Then why do you only get attached to things that you don’t have to interact with, huh?” Jared yelled, pacing up and down. “You can walk through life, being a fucking voyeur, but sooner or later, you’re gonna stand in a puddle of blood with a hunter’s gun to your head.” For a moment, Jensen looked stricken, like Jared had finally managed to get through to him, pierce that cold facade, but then his expression smoothed out. “And it won’t be your problem.” Jared was stunned into speechlessness. Jensen looked at him, then sighed. “Go home, Jared. Go to your pack. Play in the grass, chase some butterflies and get drunk on wolfsbane. You’ll forget about me in no time.” Two kinds of anger were warring in Jared, the one part wanting to bash Jensen’s head in for undervaluing himself and denying himself the right to feel, and the other part just wanted to bash Jensen’s head in. When Jensen smirked and said, “Make sure not to walk into a trap again, I won’t be there to help you out,” the last part won out. “You’re right,” Jared spit out, “I’ll forget you in no time. Not like there was anything to you in the first place, fucking walking corpse.” Jensen just nodded mildly, the same look he’d given Stuart that first day, turned around and walked off into the forest. Jared stood there until Jensen had disappeared from sight, then he collapsed into the grass. He looked back at the house, where the fire was still raging on, disintegrating beams and throwing ash onto the grass. His eyes followed the smoke rising up into the sky. Jeff found him like that six hours later. The fire had mostly died down, but Jared was still staring unseeingly into the charred remains of his prison.            Jeff was watching him. Had been watching him ever since he came back and he just wouldn’t quit. It was rather annoying. Rather. Oh god, now Jared even started thinking like that bastard talked. “You ever gonna tell me?” Jeff had come over soundlessly and sat down next to Jared at the edge of the clearing. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny with a slight breeze ruffling the leaves and the pack was lazing around the big clearing behind Jeff’s house. There wasn’t a human residence within five miles, all the land belonging to the Morgan family. Jared lived in what was most commonly referred to as the bachelor pad, sharing his space with three other young guys his age. Werewolves were social creatures and it was rare to find someone living on their own. When they didn’t have a family yet or were too old to live with their parents, they tended to room together with other weres their own age, until they found their significant other and wanted the privacy. Werewolf hearing could be a bitch, despite the excellent soundproofing. Jared glanced at Jeff and there was nothing but patience in his alpha’s eyes. Jared couldn’t look at him. “There’s nothing to tell.” “Then why the moping?” Jared tried to shrug his shoulders nonchalantly. “I had a crap month. I thought I was going to die. The cell, it was so fucking tiny, so dark. I didn’t see the sky for a month, Jeff. I still can’t sleep with my door closed.” Jeff nodded. “It will get better,” he said. “I know.” “That wasn’t what I meant though,” Jeff said after a pause. “There’s nothing else.” “Bullshit.” Jared buried his head in his hands. “I thought there could have been something else,” he said finally, talking into his palms. “But there really isn’t.” “I can hunt him down and kill him,” Jeff offered, and he only sounded like he was half-kidding. “Thanks. But it’s better this way. I mean, can you imagine?” Jeff laughed quietly. “Not really. Sure would’ve been interesting, though.” They sat in companionable silence, until Jeff suddenly turned his head. Jared heard it a few seconds later, the commotion coming up the hill. Chad broke through the treeline, running for them. Jeff was already up and Jared quickly got to his feet. Chad was flustered and he was never flustered. “What?” Jeff barked out. Chad shook his head incredulously. “There’s a vamp down there. And he wants to talk.” Jared was in motion before Chad had finished his sentence. Of course, it could be any vamp but the faintest note of Jensen’s scent, old books and clear skies, had reached Jared. And maybe he had only imagined, wishful thinking, but when he barrelled down the hill, there was Jensen, standing tall and proud surrounded by a ring of pack members, expressions ranging from wary to hostile. When they saw Jared coming, they relaxed. They’d all heard the story of Jared’s involuntary alliance with a vampire. They knew it could have gone very differently for him in Stuart’s basement. “Can we talk?” Jensen asked, showing no sign of emotion on his face. Jared nodded stiffly and led him away from the compound. He could feel Jeff’s eyes on him, heard Chad telling Katie she owed him twenty bucks. He didn’t look at Jensen, just continued to walk until they were out of earshot. He couldn’t think about what it meant that Jensen was here, not when he could be wrong. He didn’t even know if he wanted Jensen here at all. Which, yeah, okay, bullshit. “I didn’t stop smelling like you,” Jensen said without preamble. “What?” “I still smell like fucking mutt.” Jared sniffed. “No, you don’t.” It made his heart ache. “You just smell like you.” Jensen huffed and dragged a hand angrily through his hair. Then he started pacing. Jensen, always still, sometimes not even breathing, Jensen was pacing like a caged animal. “I fucking know that. And yet I do. It’s like it’s deep in my bones and it won’t go away. Every time I breathe, it’s like I’m surrounded by it, like it’s coming out of my pores.” “I’m sorry,” Jared offered hesitantly. “But I’m not sure what you want from me, Jensen. It’s not like I can take a non-existent scent back.” Jensen raised his eyebrow. Fuck, Jared had missed that. “You cannot possibly be this dense,” Jensen said incredulously. And well. Usually Jared wasn’t. But Jensen had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with Jared. Not like that. Never like that. “You said,” Jared started, but Jensen cut him off with a sharp gesture. “I know what I said.” Jared crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So what are you saying now?” Jensen made a face. “I still think you’re an immature child. You have no manners, you’re too emotional and you never take anything seriously.” He fell silent, glaring angrily at a point above Jared’s left shoulder. “Please, continue. I haven't felt this loved in a long time.” If Jared hadn’t spent a month with Jensen locked up in 90 square feet, he would think Jensen was seriously pissed, glaring the way he did, but Jared could see the defensiveness in it. “I hate werewolf stink. And I could never, absolutely never live in a pack,” Jensen spat out the word like it was something filthy. “And yet here you are.” Jared knew he sounded smug, but he didn’t care. Because Jensen was here. Jensen looked even angrier. “This was a bad idea. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. You-” Jared cut him off with a kiss. “I’m still not your mate,” Jensen mumbled into his mouth. “I’m not a fucking animal.” “Too bad,” Jared shot back. “You’re gonna have to deal with a whole pack of them.” Jensen rolled his eyes. Jared was in love. He had no idea how they were going to do this, but they were going to try and if they had a few fights along the way, well Jared already knew that the makeup sex would be spectacular.             Art Masterpost (livejournal)              Fic Masterpost (livejournal)