#anyways he's an informant but about as unorthodox as you can imagine he's just fucking around and finding out frankly
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OPEN STARTER | Patrick Finch
"I condone lying. I encourage it, even. I recommend it. I could hardly live without it."
#;open starter#the wolf;patrick#the wolf;open#he's always the most difficult one GOSH#also you must envision he's saying this with this weird open deadpan stare where he#well how do i put it: he's clearly fucking with you but he does it with such an open genuine expression#i mean he does condone lying he's not lying here (LKDSG!!!) but he is also fucking around#so this is Patrick he's 37 or anywhere around that age he's agender primarily he/him pronouns bc whatever yknow#the agender vibes of WHATEVER i know what i'm talking about trust me i have a phd in agenderism#anyways he's an informant but about as unorthodox as you can imagine he's just fucking around and finding out frankly#very depressed very jumpy very good at hiding it lmao he's my darling ♥#he is very motherly somehow i can't explain it#he has somewhat of a history in accidentally attempting to adopt powerful young women i don't know why he???#knee-jerks into wanting to be a mother figure i don't know him that well you guys#like he met suki (ferre's kamipyre) for a few minutes one time and#days after he was wondering if she'd wore a jacket because it was cold out like--#men don't get the same kindness if you're a charming kind-hearted competent warm and humorous DAD kind of guy he's unfortunately#emotionally attracted to you? unfortunately because he hates it~ but if you're any other kind of guy you're just... you're some guy to him#yes if you're young he'll adopt you too but begrudgingly-- KLDGFGKLFDHGJF#if you're a they/them you're his kid already are you kidding that's your mum#OH I JUST HAD A TERRIBLE THOUGHT so do you know om*g*verse?? regardless of how you feel about it#it do be a thing and i just had this horrible thought about how if pat were a real guy in an established canon#he'd probs get the feminisation treatment amiright?? NO LISTEN HE USED TO BE A HUGE WOLF#AND HE'S ACTUALLY FILLED WITH SO MUCH RAGE AND WRONGED PRIDE#patrick is gentle when he likes you and because he's Smart he doesn't just BITE out of nowhere he's always been like that#Fenris was known for being INCREDIBLY well-spoken BUT ALSO A HUGE PROUD WOLF#LIKE BIG WOLF-- it doesn't show but he's Very Proud and STRONG and ??????#;queue#i picked a gif came back and realized i lost it there for a sec NO MATTER makes for good entertainment
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I've Created a Monster
So, I took the, maybe ill-advised, plunge, and told the dude I've been seeing for the past three months that I'm into tickling
And it turned out fucking great, I still cannot believe my luck in this area
Apologies if I rant for a bit. I have been living out my dreams for the past couple of weeks and need to share it with someone (outside of a few people already in the community who I've already told) or I will explode. It gets a tad TMI at the end, so I put that bit under the cut for people's comfort. So beware of that in advance
So a bit of background. I had been seeing this dude for about a month and a half when we got on the subject of kinks. At first just kind of generally discussing them, and eventually getting into what we're into. And I admitted that I had one that was a bit weird, not only because it was unorthodox, but also because I had a huge amount of trouble actually saying what it was, which of course spiked his curiosity. But he was really chill about it and didn't push, but there kept being tickly moments that kept popping up naturally in the relationship, none of which were lasting longer than a couple seconds. As such, mostly out of frustration at the brevity of these moments, I mustered up the courage at 3am to finally confess.
He was quiet for a bit and mostly just held me (I think because I definitely looked as anxious as I felt--I also have to give him props for having patience during the three fucking minutes it took me to confess because I was working up the courage to simply say the Word). Then he started asking me how long I'd known that I was into it, why I was into it, what appealed to me about tickling, things along that line, all of which I stumbled my way through answering. He then proceeded to inform me that he didn't think I was weird, or that liking tickling was weird, and that he had been expecting much worse and thought it was kind of cute.
After that, tickling started cropping up more in the relationship. It took a while to explain that I was totally okay with more intense tickling and that me squirming away and sometimes asking him to stop were reflexes that should be ignored (it was somewhat endearing how he would immediatelly stop to make sure I was good, if somewhat frustrating sometimes), but he eventually got it. He even briefly pinned me down once, a move he has yet to repeat, but eventually I will get up the courage to ask him to.
I had told him that I was into both doing and receiving the tickling, but also that he was under no pressure to get tickled if he didn't want to. But after a while we were cuddling when he said, quote, "I think I'm actually into this tickling thing. It feels kind of nice whenever you do it to me, and I do love how much it gets to you." And then gave me permission to tickle him, which was way more than I was hoping for
Although he is able to control his reactions and just stay still for it which is baffling to me ("well if I moved, it would stop happening??" yeah?? I know?? But most people can't do that shit 🤨)
Guys. He started looking into tools and shit. This man is researching into the community. Came to me all excited like a dork, talking about feathers and toothbrushes and the fucking Wartenberg Wheel and how he thinks that he'd may be be down to include bondage with tickling stuff (which I'd mentioned I'd be into before). He was all, "I also discovered that some people are into tickle torture, isn't that wild?" Meanwhile I'm over here like, "yeah, it is wild, isn't it, imagine that haha"
He's suggested safe words on his own too, worked out boundaries,,,,
Anyways. He's embraced this way more than I can image and I am living the dream
TMI under cut! Avert your eyes if shmexy things make you uncomfy!
He's also started tickling me while we fuck (and sometimes when he goes down on me) and my fellow people of tumblr. It makes everything so insanely intense. I have had to be like, "babe, I love this, this is great, but I cannot concentrate on any coherent goal if you keep this up".
Also definitely discovered that my ass is ticklish during this process and it is a fact that he will not let go. Not that I am complaining 😏
#tickling#personal#spicy#tickle moments#its been wild man#the most i was hoping for when i got with someone was to maybe occasionally engage in moments of tickling the same as any other couple#definitely not this#i am living out my wildest fantasies over here#he could definitely probably go more intense than he does go but i also havent talked to him about that at all as im working up the courage#hes also obviously fine saying The Word and thinks its weird but endearing that i cant say it#he does think its weird that im so weird about this#because hes so intensely okay about anything he discovers hes into#but he says he finds it cute so ill take the win#the boo ❤️
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CSI Rogers and Barnes: The Serious Cereal Serial Killer Episode 16: Is This Thing Rolling...
Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing
Part 1
Summary: Having figured out previously where Rumlow has taken Katie, it’s now a race against time for The 4 Avengers to reach her before it’s too late. Armed with…yeah…ok, actually, we’ll let you read that bit because frankly this entire chapter is ridiculously fun!!!
Warnings: Bad Language words.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark
A/N: LONG update here guys so we split it into 2 for you to read as you wish. I know we said Episode 15 was the penultimate chapter but we had too much to cram in so…THIS is the Penultimate chapter! Episode 17 will be the last, followed by an Epilogue.
Anyway, enjoy!!!
Chapter Song: Everything by Michael Buble
CSI R&B Masterlist // Main Masterlist
You’re a falling star, you’re the getaway car, you’re the line in the sand when I go too far. You’re the swimming pool on an August day and you’re the perfect thing to see.
Almost two and a half months after the unit cracked the case of the Serious Cereal Serial killer, as Thor had coined it one morning while watching Bucky scarf down a bowl of oatmeal at such a rate that he almost choked on it, everything seemed to be fitting into place.
Rumlow and Wanda were rotting in jail. The former had been taken to a prison of maximum security in another county where he had been isolated while he waited for his trial to take place, whereas Wanda had been taken to the female wing, called Nidavellir, at the Nine Realms prison.
Katie had been back at the 99 for almost two months now and was working hand in hand with Peralta, which had given Santiago some relief as Katie was able to appease her husband’s excited and unorthodox methods. Gina had also been back at the 99 full time since another police technician, Scott Lang, previously in charge of the switchboard, had been appointed by Fury as the new Captain’s assistant at the 101st. To say he had been star-struck by the most famous police Captain in the NYPD would be an understatement, wringing Steve’s hand up and down for what felt like 5 minutes.
All in all Steve and Katie were doing well. They were in a happy domestic arrangement. She had moved in with Steve the moment Tony and Pepper had set a date for the wedding, even before she was taken by Rumlow after they had cracked the case and well before she decided to finish her secondment in DC and come back to Brooklyn permanently. And two months later she had given up pretending it was a temporary arrangement.
In fact, one Sunday morning while they were cuddling on the sofa, after an exhausting night and an invigorating breakfast, Katie had shyly asked Steve what he would think if she said she didn't want to find her own place but stay with him till they both found a place of their own. Steve had then flashed her a smile that would have lit up all of Brooklyn on a blackout night and had kissed the life out of her before commenting on how that would be everything a man could ask for. Earning another blinding smile from Katie and a groan from Bucky who, as usual, had shown up from nowhere when he was least expected and headed for the kitchen mumbling something about being fed up of mushy remarks and having to get better ear plugs to avoid having to go to therapy.
This particular Saturday morning, Katie was slumped over the breakfast bar in the kitchen, suffering from the mother of all hangovers after returning from Pepper’s bachelorette party in the small hours. And she was whimpering like a dog when Steve slid a plate of toast and an orange juice over to her.
"You need to eat something, doll."
"Trust me, I really don’t." she said, her voice muffled by the arm that was supporting her head.
Steve was trying to be sympathetic, he really was, but he was also having a hard time simply keeping himself from laughing. Frankly, the whole scene was hilarious. She had been in a right state when she had got home and he’d had to put her to bed once she had finished puking and he had arrested and cuffed her pumps for murdering her feet as per Katie’s request. So he let out a soft chuckle and she groaned as she squinted up at him.
"You know, it’s so not fair." she said blinking at the kitchen lights which felt like piercing her eyes.
"What isn’t?" Steve asked as he poured himself some coffee.
"I came home looking like a raccoon with my make-up smeared all over…and you…" she said as she waved her hand up and down his body "you still looked gorgeous even with that black eye."
"I’m surprised you can remember anything about what you or I looked like last night."
"When I go get my eyelashes done, remind me to take a photo of yours to show the beauty therapist what I want." she continued her ramblings ignoring his comment just before her head fell back on her arms.
Steve watched her and snorted.
"Don’t laugh at me." she whined, her voice once again muffled by her arms.
"I’m not. I’m trying to decide whether you’re still drunk or hungover." he said while he took a seat on the stool next to her.
"Trust me, this is 100% hangover…" she said peeking up at him. “How are you not even remotely ill?"
Steve rolled his eyes as if the answer couldn't have been any simpler. “I didn’t drink enough to be hungover. I know my limits."
"Hmmm yeah, not enough to avoid getting into a bar brawl." And just as she said it her eyes flicked to the bruise along his left cheekbone and eye socket. She sat up to trail her fingers gently over it. "You gonna tell me the full story about what happened?"
"I already told you before Doll, it was some drunken punk in a bar picking a fight. I had to put him in his place, that’s all."
"Yeah, and he put your eye in a dark place from the looks of it." she jabbed at him.
"Trust me, he ended up far worse."
Steve saw her watching him and he tried to hold her gaze as best he could, working on keeping his face straight. But it was proving hard work seeing as he was the worst of liars, he always had been. For a moment he thought she was gonna argue but she didn’t, whether she believed him or was simply too hungover to bother pulling him up on it he had no idea. He was just grateful she didn't.
"Sure he did. Anyway, what are you and your black eye doing today?" she asked.
"I’m on groomsman duty, my suit was a little short last time I tried it on so Tony wants to make sure it fits.” He replied, thankful of the change of subject, trying to sound as casual as possible, when a sudden idea came to him. “Hey, how about we head to Ma’s for lunch? I can meet you there? That is if you feel better later. You got anything else planned, baby?"
Katie reached for the orange juice before answering "Yeah, lying on the couch waiting for death to come and take me."
Steve chuckled and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to her temple but he saw her flinch as Bucky made his accustomed loud entrance in the kitchen.
"Hey doll face..." he trailed off as he looked at her, taking in her appearance and then snorted."Yikes, not looking very doll face today."
"Die Barnes" she bit back at him.
"Gladly Stark, but before I leave this world remember you promised to help me find my suit for your brother’s wedding today." Bucky informed her, a side smile on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.
Katie then stilled "That was today?" she asked with a croaky voice.
"Yup." Bucky said and headed to the fridge to fetch some milk. "And seeing as his wedding is next week we are running out of time."
"Fuck my life." Katie groaned as Bucky poured some cereal into a bowl. "Can’t you ask anyone else? My head is killing me and I can’t feel my feet thanks to being in those ridiculous heels all night…"
"Not happening." Bucky shook his head. "Sam has some reports to finish today, but says he will join us later, and I need a woman’s advice."
"Well I don’t feel like being a woman today, Buck. Have some mercy." she said in a pleading tone, earning a chuckle from Steve who was amusingly watching the interaction while he munched his breakfast.
"Maybe I would if you hadn’t sent me the video of the stripper." Bucky took the big guns out.
Suddenly Steve spluttered on his coffee "What?"
"I thought you might enjoy it." she shrugged. "Anyway, I only did that because it was that Gemini Flannagan dude you told me about."
"Gemini Flannagan…huh, no shit?" Steve said as he dried a few coffee drops that had landed on the breakfast bar with a paper towel.
"Wanna see?" Bucky asked him with a grin.
"No, why the fuck would I want to see that?" Steve frowned, visibly disgusted.
"Because in the background to all the thrusting and gyrating dearest Gemini is doing, there’s a very interesting conversation going on between your lovely girl here and Natasha where Stark is clearly saying, and I’m paraphrasing here, that his cock is nothing to write home about because yours is bigger."
At that point Katie could only groan and hide her head in her hands.
But Bucky continued as he was having a ball "... and for the record, punk, if that’s true, I don’t know how you stand up straight." And just like that he took a spoonful of cereal and watched the pair of them.
Steve was sure he was flushing, he could feel his ears and neck burning but he was also a bit smug, well ok, not a bit, he was full on smug. That most certainly was not a bad thing for his girl to be crowing about…
And then it suddenly hit him what Bucky had said.
"Hang on…he was naked? Like…did he strip?”
Katie rolled her eyes and Bucky smiled at Steve's naivety "Clue's in the name…STRIPPER. Duh." she said.
“Like he was completely naked?”
“Well not completely, no.” Katie said, “He had this little leather thong pouch type thing covering his, crotch, but it was tight enough not to leave anything to the imagination.”
"You know, if you ever get tired of chasing bad guys there’s a gig there. You already have the uniform." Bucky told his friend as he munched his cereal.
Steve, who was now bright red, tilted his head at him. "Buck, just don’t."
Bucky smiled and decided to let it go but then he saw Katie looking at Steve and a wicked smile flicked across her face.
"Can you strip for me, Captain?" she asked suggestively.
Steve groaned and stood up, still flushing. "Just eat your toast and take a painkiller. I’m going for a shower."
"I love it when you put on your Captain's voice…" she purred, which did nothing to stop Steve’s blush, quite the contrary. And he rolled his eyes, trying to maintain a straight face as she continued "Are you stripping to get in the shower, Captain?"
Bucky laughed loudly as Steve sighed and looked him. "Keep her out of trouble, punk." He ordered.
"I’m not some mischief making teenager, Steve." she protested.
"Then stop acting like one." Steve said sternly, hands on his hips and it didn’t pass him by that he was really adopting his Captain stance.
"Says the man with the black eye." she glared at him and Bucky sniggered.
"I’m going for a shower now. Behave with uncle Bucky sweetheart." he said, winking an eye at her. And as he turned to leave Katie threw the toast from her plate at him but missed completely and it ended up on the kitchen's floor by the door.
"Fuck you, Rogers." she shouted in frustration.
They heard Steve's laughter die down as the bathroom door shut.
"We don’t play with food, little miss." Bucky mock scolded Katie as he picked the toast up off the floor.
"You can piss off too."
Bucky laughed, now she was being a brat. "Sorry, but you’re cute when you’re angry and hungover."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she frowned at him.
"A James Buchanan Barnes original, yes."
"Well, given how I look and feel this morning, I’ll take it." She breathed in and nodded behind him. "Pass me the Advil, will ya Buck?"
"Sure, doll face." he said as he reached into the cupboard over the sink and tossed the packet down on the breakfast bar. "Take a few, I need you at your best this morning."
"Just my luck." she said, taking the painkillers from the packet.
Bucky chuckled and poured himself a coffee. "Blame your brother, if he had chosen me as a groomsman, I’d have my suit sorted now."
Katie snorted and tossed the pills into her mouth, taking a gulp of orange juice and swallowing.
"I mean, I get why Rhodes is his best man, like they’ve been friends forever but Rogers, Wilson and Banner as ushers, really? What about me?"
Katie looked at him "You really don’t want me to answer that, do you?"
"What you trying to say?" Bucky asked, not understanding why his question was so odd.
"Brucie and Sam are his closest friends at work and Steve’s…"
"The guy fucking his sister." he cut her off.
Katie narrowed her eyes "I was gonna say his Captain, ass hole."
Bucky simply grinned at her over his coffee mug. He loved their little bickering moments.
*****
Steve pulled up outside Tony’s and headed up to the door of the large brownstone terraced house. He sighed as he rang the bell. He had been sure about this but now he didn't know if he was anymore. Anyways, he was already there and he'd better roll with it.
"Oh hey Rogers, wasn’t expecting you." Tony greeted him as he opened the door.
"Hi Tony."
"Eurgh, that black eye looks worse now than it did last night. What did Katie say?" he said pointing at Steve's face
"Nothing much. I told her it was just some drunken ass hole causing a scene. She doesn’t need to know anything else." he shrugged.
Tony arched an eyebrow at him "Ooh, Captain straight lace telling lies."
"It’s not a lie, just not the whole truth." Steve explained with a smile.
He had begun to take a liking at Tony's teasing, as long as it wasn't too personal that is. But he had to concede since they had rescued Katie from Rumlow the scientist had toned down his little jabs at the Captain.
"Whatever, your funeral when she finds out." Tony brushed Steve's explanations off with a wave of his hand. "And speaking of my sister, where is she?"
"Shopping with Bucky…complete with one hell of a hangover."
"Yeah Pepper ain't much better. Made her one of my miracle beverages. Looked worse on the way back up, which is saying something…Come on in."
Tony stepped back and let Steve into the tiled hallway, shutting the door behind him. He led the way, taking him through to the kitchen and Steve caught a glimpse of the living room when they stopped at the door.
"Pepper's on the sofa... dying. Probably best we leave her to it." Tony explained when he saw Steve was looking in her direction.
Steve smiled and nodded as Tony looked at him. "So Kiddo is shopping with a hangover? Bet she loved that." he scoffed.
"Well, you know her…never one to let someone down when she’s promised something. Bucky needs a suit for the wedding so…"
"Oh, shit, yeah…er…let me warn you, I was in the middle of a thing with our wedding planner."
Steve paused and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow "What do you mean?"
Tony had never been one for warnings, he just let people draw conclusions by allowing them to dive in head first. He just sat back and enjoyed the ride.
"You’ll see." Tony said before heading into the kitchen.
Steve frowned, there was not a spark of wickedness in Tony's brown eyes when he uttered those words as he would have expected. Instead Steve could feel the exasperation in his voice.
"Steve this is Grandmaster, our wedding planner. Grandmaster this is Steve Rogers, my sister’s boyfriend."
Steve looked at Tony, mouthing Grandmaster? What kind of fucking name was that? he thought. Tony didn't bother answering. Instead, he merely took out his glasses and rolled his eyes, a gesture Steve knew only too well to mean ‘don’t ask’ as it was identical to the one Katie made.
"Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers…you’re a lucky man." the man suddenly spoke.
"Sorry, I’m not…I don’t…what?" Steve was utterly confused and finished a little lamely. His brain was having a hard time registering the wedding planner's flamboyant appearance. He was wearing a sparkly golden jacket even Bucky would have sworn off in the 80s. But his greying spiky hair and blue eyeliner combination was what had Steve floundering for words. Then, what the man had said registered and he frowned. “Lucky man?”
"Your girlfriend, Tony’s sister, I met her at the dress fitting a few weeks ago. She’s an exquisite little thing." Grandmaster explained softly.
"Oh, err, yeah… yes she is. Thank you.”
Steve saw Grandmaster bat his eyelashes at him as if to acknowledge his words. He looked at Tony once more, utterly dumbfounded. Tony simply shook his head in a just roll with it gesture and Steve suddenly realised exactly why Tony had issued a warning.
He then looked at the large table which was adorned with bits of paper, one of which looked like a seating plan, and suddenly he felt like he was intruding.
"Look, if this is a bad time I can come back…"
"Oh, no, Anthony and I were just discussing the brunch…" Grandmaster explained and grinned at Tony.
"For the last time, it’s a Reception, idiot." Tony hissed.
"No, can you…you know I don’t like that word." Grandmaster shook his head, cringing.
"What? Idiot."
"No, the…why would I not like the word idiot? I mean the R word."
Steve stood there, watching the exchange between the two men, his mouth hanging open in confusion. That Greatmaster was certainly a greater piece of work than Tony, which was saying something. Or was it Grandmaster? Whatever...
Tony let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It’s not a brunch, it's an afternoon... you know what? Fine. The post wedding meal."
"Ok, better." Grandmaster grinned again at him.
Steve now understood why Tony had done nothing but moan about this guy for the last few months. He was clearly a fucking sandwich short of a full picnic.
"As for the seating…just do whatever. I don’t much care." Tony conceded, visibly fed up. There's only so much a man can take after all.
"Alright, seeing as Miss Potter is not available, I’ll work on this later and email it over." the man agreed.
"It’s Miss Potts." Tony practically growled and Steve could see he was about to lose it.
"She’s more open to my ideas than you are Anthony." the wedding planner observed, not in the least fazed by his client's angry tone.
Tony stared at him, blinking. His mouth hanging slightly open in a look Steve had seen only a handful of times before, when something had rendered him speechless, which was no mean feat, before the scientist took a deep sigh.
"Whatever."
And just like that Grandmaster moved graciously around the table. Steve watched him as he gathered his papers up and popped them into a leather briefcase. He then fastened it with a click and looked at Tony.
"By the way, it smells in here…burnt toast I think.”
"Yeah, well I like my bread well done." Tony's voice was deadpan and Steve snorted as Grandmaster nodded with a smile. The guy had no idea Tony was literally making fun of him to his face.
"Alright, guess I’ll be leaving now. Bye, Anthony. Nice to meet you Mr Stevenson."
Steve's brain had not quite registered the man's name mixed-up when he heard Tony hiss through gritted teeth "It’s Rogers." He was literally lost for words. So when Grandmaster left the room Tony looked at him.
"Don’t mind him, took him some time until he stopped calling me Mr Starch. That’s why I don’t rip his tongue out for calling me Anthony."
"Yeah erm…where on Earth did you find him?"
“I’m not actually sure he’s from Earth.” Tony mumbled before he shook his head. “He was some acquaintance of Banner. Thor knew him too. He runs a company called Sakaar. They deal with events planning. And orgies, apparently." Tony explained, rubbing his temples.
Steve thought Tony had aged a decade in the ten minutes he had been dealing with his wedding planner and gave them a sympathetic smile just before his brain registered the last part. "What?"
"Don’t ask." Tony said before clapping his hands together. "Anyway, what can I do for you, Cap? You want a coffee or…?
"No thanks, I’m good." Steve cleared his throat. With all the Grandmaster dude shenanigans he had forgotten the real purpose of his visit and suddenly he could feel his palms were sweaty with nerves. "I... err... wanted to talk to you alone. There’s this thing I’ve been meaning to ask you…"
Tony arched his eyebrow. "Me?"
"Yes." Steve replied way too fast. "I mean, I wanted to ask you before I ask her…"
"Her? Are you talking about Katie?"
Steve lowered his head and sighed "Yes."
"Oh, I see what’s going on." Tony said leaning against the counter, folding his arms.
"You do?" Steve asked, lifting his head up and looking at him shyly.
"No thanks to you, you’re a mess Rogers." Tony said, a gentle smile curling on his lips. "Come with me."
Steve frowned before following him "Tony, I…"
"Trust me, I have something to show you." Tony stopped and turned to look at him with a soft smile.
Steve took a breath and followed him. They headed down the hall then up the stairs and into Tony's study.
Once there Steve saw Tony sit on his desk chair and begin tapping on the keyboard. Just as the screen sprang to life Tony explained. "See dad had a thing for recording videos, kind of like pep talks for the future." He pressed a few buttons more and moved the mouse before continuing. "After the one he recorded for that old journalist Mr Lee, well it got me thinking there had to be more. So I started searching through his old archives and among other things, I found something I think you’ll find interesting."
Steve frowned "What do you mean?"
Tony looked at him for an instant before looking back at the screen and smiled as he selected a file. "Lets just say my dear old pop was a visionary…"
Steve looked at him, he had no idea what the fuck was going on. Tony stood up and motioned for Steve to take his place on the desk chair
"Just watch this, then you can ask me what you wanted to ask me."
He leaned over Steve to click another button and the screen suddenly displayed Howard, perched on his desk, scotch in hand. Steve felt a shiver running down his spine.
"Is this thing rolling?" Howard asked the person behind the camera as he swirled his glass around.
"Yeah, it’s on…" a voice from off screen confirmed.
"Alright…" Howard took a swig of scotch and cleared his throat. "Tony…congratulations on being the only person I know who is nosey enough and clever enough to crack into my archives…anyway, if you’re watching this it means something has happened to me before I got the chance to tell you all this in person so…."
Steve watched as Tony pressed a key to fast forward the recording a bit, he was winding to find something, before he stopped and the screen showed Howard giving a chuckle and taking another mouth of scotch.
"So yeah, there’s always a secret door." he said before taking a deep breath. "Now I want you to show this next bit to Rogers."
Steve’s eyes widened and he felt his heart start beating fast.
"Steve, you’re like a second son to me, you know that. I hope you’re doing well. I have no doubt you’ve made Captain by now, possibly even Commissioner, depending on how old this recording is. Not too old I hope. Anyway, I digress. I’m willing to bet you’ve cracked a few big cases too."
Steve gulped as he watched his old mentor continue to talk to him through the screen. He couldn't even tear his eyes from the screen to see Tony's reaction.
"Good job son. Now, onto something far more important to me. I hope you and my princess have realised by now you’re made for each other, because I already know you are."
Steve’s breath caught in his throat, his heart was now pounding.
"So if you’re watching this, and you’ve finally figured that out, then I’m giving you my blessing son. If you haven’t figured it out, then you’re a pair of dumbasses." Howard groaned at the last part and Steve gave a soft snort of laughter, shaking his head. "I’d be over the moon knowing you two have finally realised what has been in front of you for the past god knows how long."
"10 fucking years…" Tony mumbled from where he was leaning against a bookcase behind Steve, arms crossed and his right hand covering his mouth and jaw.
Howard then swallowed a little and wiped at his eye as he looked down at his feet taking a deep breath, clearly emotional, before he looked back up.
"Just look after her, treat her well and make her happy. I’m trusting you with one of my most treasured accomplishments son. And I only wish I could be there to walk her down the aisle to hand her over to the person I’d trust her with over anyone." Howard smiled and then thought about something a moment before he continued. “Just don’t try to understand her.” Howard shrugged “Because the minute you think you know what’s going on inside a woman’s head is the moment you’re goose is cooked.”
At that he sat up straight, slipping back into the Howard Steve knew all too well and looked at the camera.
"Ok, you can stop that thing now…" Steve heard him say before the screen went blank.
The room fell silent and Steve swallowed, trying to digest what he had just seen. The lump in his throat felt like a damned golf ball. Seeing his old mentor, his girl’s dad like that, in such an unguarded way had really made him emotional. When he recovered a bit he turned to look at Tony, who was in turn looking at him, and saw his eyes were misting over slightly. "What was it you wanted to ask?"
Steve chuckled "You still gonna make me say it?"
"Humour me Rogers, I like to see you squirm." Tony teased him, regaining his composure.
Steve took a deep breath before speaking, hoping his voice would come out as steady as possible given the circumstances.
"Tony, I’m gonna ask Katie to marry me. And it would mean the world to me, if I had your blessing."
Tony smiled and looked at his feet before he glanced back up "Then you got it, Steve."
Steve felt a feeling of relief wash over him, the fact he had used his name, for the first time in years, and not some stupid nickname didn’t pass him by. He smiled widely as Tony extended his hand, before he pulled him into a brotherly hug.
“Scotch?” Tony asked him as he pulled back.
Steve nodded, smiling widely. "Absolutely."
CONTINUED IN PART 2
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living in the real world (ain’t it fun) CHAPTER 2
*rolls up six months late with starbucks* PLEASE ENJOY THIS UPDATE I LOVE YOU ALL
WORD COUNT: ~3569
TW: anxiety attacks, arguing, brief mentions of physical injury
also available on ao3! the link will be the first thing in the notes since tumblr is glitching out rn
“So, let me get this straight.”
“Impossible. We’re not straight.”
Thomas blinks at Roman. “You – all of you are gay?”
“Thomas, we’re pieces of you. We have the exact same . . . romantic tendencies as you,” Logan explains. For how explosive he seems to be wherever Roman is concerned, Logan has been incredibly patient with Thomas. All three of them have, even though they’re clearly exactly as stressed-out and uncomfortable as he is.
“Okay, so, rephrase: let me get this gay then. You three –” Thomas makes a weird gesture that he hopes encapsulates the sentiment of “whatever-the-fuck-is-going-on-right-here”. Logan raises an eyebrow, Roman tilts his head in confusion, and Patton just smiles.
“You’re all different elements of my personality, given a form and an independent consciousness.”
“Indeed!” Roman exclaims.
“Okay, but . . . I have so many questions.”
“Which is to be expected. We promise to answer them to the best of our abilities, Thomas,” Logan reassures. Thomas looks at him again, eyes wide and earnest behind his glasses.
“Are there any more of you?”
Logan starts to respond, but Roman cuts him off with a flippant hand gesture. “Well, I certainly hope not!” Thomas feels an uneasy anger build in his chest, and it confuses him.
“What Roman means, kiddo, is that no, we’re not the only sides of your personality that exist in that head of yours!” Patton laughs. “But for the time being, we do appear to be the only ones who’ve manifested in the real world.”
“And that is a good thing, Thomas, believe me! We three are the core aspects of your personality – we are the most important ones. The others are . . . unsavory, to say the least.”
“What . . . what are you talking about?”
Roman lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “They’re the dark sides, Thomas!”
Logan rolls his eyes. “What Roman is trying to say, despite his penchant for unnecessary theatrics, is that the other aspects of your personality are often problematic. All of us act in the way that we think is best for you, but their methods are . . . unorthodox, to put it mildly, and often tend to disrupt your daily life.”
“They mess everything up! Especially Anxiety,” Roman says, and the sheer derisive disgust with which he says anxiety sends a terrified shiver down Thomas’s spine. “That asshole never lets me do anything! That’s the whole reason that our evening last night was cut short – because he–”
“Language, Roman,” Patton says. “And be a little nicer to him! He just wants to protect Thomas.”
“From what, living his life? Honestly, I’m glad he’s not here. I hate dealing with him.”
Thomas feels the weird ball of anger in his chest melt instantly. It’s replaced with a cold, quiet feeling that he can’t really identify, but it makes him feel uncomfortable and out of place in his own house. He doesn’t like that feeling, and rather than dwelling on it, he focuses on Logan.
“I’m sure that you have more questions,” Logan prompts gently. “I would be happy to answer them.”
Thomas’s next question is significantly lacking in any sort of tact, but he can’t help blurting it out. “How come they’re adults and you’re not?”
Logan’s face contorts into a pained grimace. Thomas half-expects the little throbbing angry-vein thing that shows up in B-roll anime to appear on his temple. “Contrary to my physical appearance,” he grinds out, gritting his teeth, “I am twenty-nine years of age, just like you.”
“But you look like I did when I was in high school.”
“I . . . am aware.”
“I’m so confused.”
“Well, maybe it has something to do with when you first started needing us,” Patton muses.
“I didn’t even know you existed until thirty minutes ago!”
“Not consciously, but we’ve been in your head the whole time! I’ve been around since the very beginning – even little babies have emotions, right?”
“Y-yeah, I – I guess that makes sense.”
“I first took hold when you were a preschooler,” Roman explains. It’s weird to Thomas to hear his voice coming from Roman – it’s weird from all of them, but Roman is doing some kind of accent thing that’s making it very difficult to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. “You were very imaginative as a child, Thomas! I had a lot of control back then!”
He glares at Logan. “Then the Microsoft Nerd here showed up, and I got kicked out of my spot!”
“Falsehood,” Logan counters. “Even before I had form, I was there within Thomas to an extent. It is not as though I just materialized one day.”
“Oh, but it is! I woke up one morning and there you were, standing there with your glasses and your necktie and your holier-than-thou-I’m-always-right attitude and –”
“That’s rich, coming from you, you self-besotted, stuck up, head-in-the-clouds –”
Thomas feels a familiar headache building behind his eyes, pressing at them like they’re going to pop out of his sockets and roll across the floor, hammering at his forehead and temples like the bone is going to shatter and let all of the turmoil inside him come spilling out into the real world.
As he watches Logan and Roman get increasingly agitated, he considers the possibility that it already has.
“Kiddos, it’s time to stop now,” Patton says, but neither one of them can hear him. the headache worsens. Thomas drops his head into his hands. There’s a strange feeling building up in his chest – not anger, but exasperation, covering something desperate and needy that’s begging everyone to stop stop stop stopstopstopstop –
“Stop it!” Thomas snaps, shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes so hard he sees phosphenes dance across the resounding darkness. “Stop fighting, stop yelling, just stop it!”
And they do.
Thomas lifts his head from his hands, startled by the sudden silence, to see Roman and Logan, staring at each other, still angry but silent. Both of their mouths are open, like they were in the middle of saying something, but neither one is making a single sound.
“I . . . did not expect that to work.”
Logan shuts his mouth (although it looks painful, like he has to force it) and turns away from Roman. “Apologies, Thomas,” he says quietly. “Are you alright?”
“Y-yeah, but . . . geez, my head is killing me,” he groans. Patton worriedly presses a hand to Thomas’s forehead, like he’s checking for a fever or something. His hands are soft and surprisingly warm.
“A headache will not be identified or cured like that, Patton,” Logan says.
“Like we need that information right now,” Roman mutters. Logan glares at him. Roman moves his hand like he’s going to flip Logan off, catches the expression on Patton’s face, and reconsiders.
“Guys, I’m okay, really, I just . . . my head,” Thomas says. “It . . . it hurts. Do you two always fight like that?”
“We get into the occasional argument,” Logan says with a noncommittal shrug.
“Occasional?” Roman laughs. “We have more arguments than there are days in a year, pocket protector!” Logan bristles at the nickname, snatching a decorative pillow off the bed and hurling it at Roman. The pillow falls onto the ground, neatly halved, as Roman brandishes a sword at Logan. It’s long and shiny and silver, and it looks kind of like a katana. Logan yelps and scrambles backwards.
Thomas feels an unfamiliar panic spike through his whole system. He wants to curl into a ball and hide, even though he doesn’t really think Roman will stab him. He doesn’t really think Roman will stab Logan, either, for that matter. Still, he feels as though he is going to die – even if Roman doesn’t stab him, the terror welling in his chest will crush his heart to dust.
“Roman, what the fuck?”
“Language!” Patton snaps. “And Roman, kiddo, put the sword away!”
Roman wiggles the sword menacingly at Logan. “Roman, stop it!” Logan squeaks, voice cracking in the middle of his sentence. His face is pink, and Thomas winces a little, remembering the visceral embarrassment of his voice doing that in high school. Another spike of anxiety has him doubling over a little, curling slightly into the fetal position and clutching at his chest, right over his heart.
“Oh.”
“Kiddo, put the sword down!” Patton reiterates, standing between Logan and Roman with his arms spread out. “You can’t just stab Logan because he said something mean! And you can’t just say mean stuff, Logan!”
“I didn’t even say anything!” Logan protests, wincing as his voice breaks again. “The pillow couldn’t hurt him anyway!”
“Guys, please,” Thomas groans, and all three of them turn instantly. “Just – the sword, it – put it – I –”
He feels an inexplicable panic surging up in his chest, rapidly flooding all of his senses, constricting his breathing, causing little black spots to dance in his field of vision. Before he can properly focus on trying to stave off his impending panic attack, he feels it start to ebb all on its own.
It doesn’t get far.
Thomas can faintly feel his chest heaving in large, panicked breaths and faintly hear Patton trying to talk to him and faintly see Logan and Roman watching him with horror and concern smeared equally and identically across their faces, but he can’t focus on any external stimuli. The only thing that he can concentrate on is the strange tug-of-war of panic within his chest as he grows more anxious and then less anxious and then more anxious and then less anxious without any conscious input at all.
Gradually, the panic recedes far enough that he can feel warm hands on his face and hear Patton’s voice, which is shaky despite his calm tone. “Thomas, kiddo, you have to breathe. You’re okay, everything is okay – Roman put his sword away, see? Everything is okay. You just have to breathe, Thomas, can you do that for me? I know Logan was doing some counts for you earlier, do you need him to do those again? Can you hear me, Thomas?”
Thomas manages to lift his head and meet Patton’s eyes, which are exactly the same as his but somehow still wildly different. “There you are,” Patton says, and his tone would be patronizing coming from anyone else, but Thomas can’t process it as anything but comforting. “You’re gonna be just fine, Thomas, okay?”
He manages a stiff, shaky nod. “Good! That’s good. Do you want me to count the breathing exercise out for you again?” Thomas nods again. “Okay. I’m going to put my hand on your thigh, alright, Thomas? I’m going to put my hand on your thigh and I’m going to tap out the counts, and I want you to breathe with me. Here we go. Are you ready?”
It hurts, at first, following the breathing exercise. The panic has an icy vise grip around his heart, and his ribs ache every time his chest expands. He’s hyperventilating, he discovers, and apparently has been for a while now, because it’s difficult for him to get enough breath in his chest to make it past the first count of four. He notices Patton wincing when he tries to breathe, but he just keeps counting. “It’s okay, Thomas. Just keep trying, okay kiddo? In for four, here we go. One . . . two . . . three . . . it’s okay, we’ll try again, yeah?”
It takes ten minutes for Thomas to get enough breath to complete one cycle of the breathing exercise, but once he gets that first cycle complete it’s easy to keep going until he’s breathing normally again, uncurling his body and flexing his stiff muscles. “Sorry, he croaks, wincing at how shitty his voice sounds. “I’m – I don’t know what –”
“No harm done, kiddo!” Patton says brightly, if slightly strained. “As long as you’re okay now, right?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” Thomas looks at Logan and Roman. Roman’s sword is nowhere to be seen, but he looks absolutely distraught. “Roman, I –”
“I am so sorry, Thomas!” Roman wails. “I – I truly did not intend to cause you distress, especially not such a severe level! My sword is intended only to protect you, never to harm you! I – I’m so – I’m sorry, Thomas, I didn’t – I never meant to – I – I’m so sorry!”
Thomas is shocked, and more than a little concerned. “Roman, it’s – it’s okay. I’m not sure why I panicked either, it’s not like I actually believed you were gonna skewer me or whatever. You’re okay, I’m not mad. It’s okay, Roman.”
Roman sniffles, scrubbing at his eyes and smearing tears all over his face. Thomas wonders briefly if he looks this ugly when he cries. “Are you – are you sure? That was an intense panic I drove you into, and if I had known that would be the result I never would have –”
“Roman, I believe you.” Thomas stands up, stretching his legs out before crossing the room and opening his arms.
“What – what are you doing?”
“I’m hugging you. Come here, Roman.”
“Wh-why are you –”
“Roman, come here and let me hug you,” Thomas says. Roman shuffles into his arms stiffly, but the second Thomas’s arms settle around his waist and shoulder he relaxes, hugging him back tightly. Hugging Roman is drastically different from hugging Patton – Roman is broad and muscular, and he smells kind of like a weird amalgamation of every scent Thomas has every found to be particularly attractive. Even though Thomas is ostensibly comforting Roman, he can’t help but feel safe in his arms, as though nothing can touch him, as though he is protected from the world.
Roman’s arms are strong and warm, a heavy, comforting weight around him. “I’m sorry, Thomas,” Roman murmurs. “I would never harm you – and I would never harm Logan, either. Or Patton.”
“I believe you, Roman, don’t worry,” Thomas soothes.
Roman pulls away from the hug and turns back to Logan. “My . . . apologies, Logan. I suppose that what I did was . . . was not exactly the best course of action.”
“It is fine,” Logan says, only slightly stiffly. Roman opens his arms for a hug, but Logan takes a step backward and extends his hand. Roman stares at it for a moment before shaking it.
“Well, this has been a wonderful learning curve, but I need to eat food,” Thomas says. A thought occurs to him. “Do you guys . . . need to eat?”
“Need to eat? No, we don’t,” Logan says.
“But we like to!” Patton adds. “And I can cook pretty darn well!”
“I still do not know how that is possible, considering that Thomas’s cooking skills are . . .” Logan hesitates, like he doesn’t want to insult Thomas, before settling on, “mediocre at best.” He looks at Thomas quickly out of the corner of his eyes, like he’s worried that he’s insulted him.
Thomas shrugs. “I mean . . . fair, Logan.”
Patton nods excitedly. “I’ll make breakfast!” he says. “I can make scrambled eggs and pancakes and –” He keeps talking, listing off different breakfast foods, while Roman nods along in agreement and Logan quietly points out which options are infeasible. Thomas heads for the kitchen, figuring he should probably figure out what all he actually has in his fridge.
He makes it to the top of the stairs before realizing that he cannot go any further. He tries to take the first step down the staircase, but it’s as though he’s slammed into some kind of wall – he can’t actually move. “Um, guys?”
Patton steps into the hallway. “Yeah, kiddo?” The second that Patton’s foot crosses the threshold into the hallway, the hard barrier dissolves, and Thomas falls forward down the stairs. He hits another barrier before he gets very far, but then Patton is running down the hallway and the wall dissolves again and Thomas goes flying down the stairs.
He collapses into a tangled heap of limbs and bruises at the foot of the stairs. The breath is knocked clean out of his body, and it takes several seconds of gasping like a fish yanked out of water before he gets his breath back.
“Thomas!” There are gentle hands on his shoulder now, helping to unfold him and lay him out flat on his back. “Thomas, what happened? Did you trip? Did you hit your head, are you okay?”
“I’m okay, Pat . . .” Thomas groans. He can still feel all his limbs, and he can feel his head – more accurately, he can feel the massive bruise forming on the back of it. “There . . . there was something that kept me from going down the stairs. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t move past it.”
“What? There wasn’t anything like that when I was on the stairs!”
Thomas can hear the pounding of footsteps on the stairs as Roman and Logan come running. “Patton, what happened to Thomas? Is he okay?”
“Of course he’s not okay, Roman, he fell down the stairs!”
Before either of them can come to blows again, Thomas sits up, holding his head. “I’m okay, guys. I need an ice pack, but I . . . I think I’m okay.”
“You should get tested for a concussion,” Logan says worriedly.
“Is it really that bad?” Roman demands.
“I don’t know! But if it is, Thomas needs to go to the hospital.” Logan crouches in front of Thomas, holding a finger up in front of his face. “Thomas, follow my finger with your eyes, okay?” He moves his index finger slowly back and forth, and Thomas dutifully flicks his gaze left and right after it.
“Good, Thomas, that’s good. Now, I am going to ask a series of questions to test your cognitive faculties. Answer them to the best of your ability. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“What is your first name?”
“Thomas.”
“What is your last name?”
“Sanders.”
“Where are you right now?”
“I’m in my house . . .”
“What is my name?”
“Logan.”
Logan pulls Thomas’s phone out of his pocket and shines the flashlight in his eyes. Thomas winces at the bright light in his eyes, but Logan seems satisfied. “Your pupils are dilating properly,” he hums. “I do not believe that you are concussed.”
“Wouldn’t we feel if Thomas was concussed?” Patton asks. “We felt when he went down the stairs.” This is when Thomas notices that Patton is rubbing the back of his head, exactly where Thomas can feel the throbbing pain of a bruise, and Logan is holding his left wrist as though is aches just like Thomas’s does, and Roman is wincing as he stretches his legs out.
“You guys felt that?”
“We didn’t know what was happening,” Patton says, “but we all felt a lot of pain in our arms and legs and head, so I wasn’t surprised when I saw that you had fallen down the stairs. I was concerned, sure, but not surprised.”
Thomas reaches over and pinches Logan’s forearm. He doesn’t pinch hard enough to hurt, but he pinches hard enough for Logan to jump and let out a startled yelp. And just as he’d suspected, Patton and Roman both jump and yelp as well. Thomas himself shivers, feeling a pinch on his left forearm exactly where he’d pinched Logan.
“Thomas!” Logan shrieks, scrambling away from him. “What was the purpose of that?”
“I felt that,” Thomas says.
“What?”
“When I pinched you, I felt my own arm pinch. In the exact same place, Logan.”
Logan’s face shifts from betrayed and pained to curious and eager in a heartbeat. “Really? So you would feel if I did this?” Without hesitation, he whirls around and socks Roman in the arm, a little harder than is perhaps strictly necessary. Roman shrieks and shoves Logan in retaliation; he falls onto his back with a soft thump.
“Yep!” Thomas wheezes. “Felt both of those!”
“Fascinating,” Logan muses, not even bothering to sit up. “Whatever you feel, we feel, and whatever we feel, you feel?”
“Well, yeah, why wouldn’t that be the case? You’re all parts of me, aren’t you?”
Logan starts muttering to himself, waving his hands absently in the air. Thomas sucks in a shaky breath as glowing blue lines appear in the wake of Logan’s fingers, forming themselves into words and numbers and weird, complicated-looking diagrams. “Uh . . . Logan?”
Logan, apparently, does not hear him. “Logan?” he repeats. Logan looks up, blinking at him through one of the diagrams hovering in the air.
“Yes, Thomas?”
“What . . . what are those?”
“What? Oh, these? They happen all the time. They’re a literal representation of your thought process.”
“I thought you were the literal representation of my thought process?!”
“No, I’m the literal representation of your ability to think. Confusing, I know, but different things nonetheless. They’re not strictly necessary, they just help me organize new information.”
Logan blushes. “Plus, I . . . think they look kind of cool.”
“Nerd,” Roman mutters, but there’s a teasing smile on his face. It doesn’t stop Logan from lightly punching him in the arm again, but the force of the blow is significantly lighter.
“So!” Patton grins, clapping his hands together. “Pancakes?”
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BASIC INFORMATION:
NAME: Henry García.
AGE: 37.
PLACE OF BIRTH: Porto Velho, California, United States.
AFFILIATION: The Rutherford Family.
OCCUPATION: Bodyguard of Lara Rutherford.
FACE CLAIM: Manny Montana.
AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.
BIOGRAPHY:
(Warning: Mentions of domestic abuse.)
“I don’t want you fighting anymore.”
It was ironic how her tantrums only ever led to more of that.
“Don’t want me fighting, or don’t want me fighting for her?”
Because at the end of the day, that was always what it boiled down to. Vanessa had never batted an eye when he was cracking skulls for the British family, but she sure had a problem with him appealing to the attention of Lara Rutherford. Their relationship had been bitter for years, but this was the first time he’d ever seen her jealous.
The only thing that had ever been harder than growing up in Porto Velho’s shittiest neighbourhood was his fucking marriage. Don’t get him wrong, he’d been in love with her back then; or at least as in love as any seventeen year old boy could be. They’d met during high school, when his main priority had been dealing just enough drugs to pay for the upkeep of the car he raced with his friends. Henry didn’t know what real responsibility was—few teenage boys, especially the ones who grew up in his kind of household, did.
So when he’d found out, both only eighteen years old, that he’d knocked her up, it felt like his whole damn life was unravelling.
Whilst his pops had beat the shit out of him as thanks for becoming a grandfather, his mother had been the one to push the idea of doing the ‘right thing’. Even though he’d never imagined being married at this age—he’d always wanted to go to school, play football, get the fuck out of the city for good—Henry was so scared he’d just rolled with it. In hindsight, he suspects Vanessa only agreed for the same damn reasons.
Things hadn’t been so bad in the beginning. Henry was still dealing drugs for the Rutherfords, but it wasn’t enough of an income to look after the daughter he’d fallen in love with immediately. Maybe he hadn’t exactly dreamed of this life, but he was sure as hell going to do right by her now that he was living it. If that meant taking on more dangerous jobs for the British—becoming some hired muscle they could throw at the Cávado gangs—he’d do whatever it took to earn the money. No daughter of his would ever go without.
Whilst the responsibility of being a dad matured him, it sent Vanessa wildly in the other direction. The little she earned from her job went toward drinking and socializing because she was so ‘stressed out’ over all of her new responsibilities. Like she was the one up all night when Val was crying, or there to bathe and feed the kid. Still, he kept his mouth shut for the sake of peace. Of course, that didn’t stop their fights; the ones she started, but he was blamed for by her overbearing mother.
The life he was living was hell, and Valentina was the only thing that kept him going.
On the rare occasions Vanessa was home, she was almost always drunk; an aggressive one, at that. Though she’d never laid a hand on their daughter—because he sure as fuck wouldn’t have been so forgiving if she had—that didn’t stop her from lashing out at him violently. Once, she’d clocked him so hard that she’d broken his nose. Despite his violent reputation on the streets, however, not once did he put a hand on his wife. To stop her aggressive tirade, he’d locked her in the bathroom to cool off…only for the police to be called over the domestic disturbance, and his ass to be the one that was arrested.
Henry didn’t leave. Only because he couldn’t live knowing his daughter was growing up with that.
As his home life deteriorated to the point of insanity, things were at least on the up when it came to work.
It’d been at Val’s eleventh birthday party they first met.
Lara Rutherford had just moved back to the city. For her to seek him out in the way she had was unorthodox, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. After hearing about how talented he was from a mutual acquaintance, she’d approached him about taking up competitive fighting instead of working on the streets, and whilst Henry had been hesitant at first, when she’d explained how much money could be made, there was no way he could say no. Anything was better than risking his life in shitty gang wars.
To form a genuine friendship with the woman had been unexpected. Everyone who worked under Andrew’s name had heard about her; some worshiped her like a god, whilst others painted her as a sociopath. Henry’s opinion fell solidly in the middle, and maybe that’s why, after three years of fighting on her behalf, he gladly accepted when she asked him to become her bodyguard. Spending every day in her company wasn’t half fucking bad—even if it mostly consisted of throwing insults back and forth until one got so stroppy they started ignoring the other.
Henry vowed never to leave her. There was sure as hell no fucker else who could put up with her high maintenance ass, anyway. So, when he’d blamed himself for her being shot in the street by a rival gang in California—despite the fact he was off duty at the time—it’d taken a particularly shouty lecture from her to keep him from giving up the gig. Seeing her hurt was fucking rough. Whether he’d admit it or not, she really was one of the few people he actually gave a shit about in their awful city, and he’d learned years ago that something like that was worth holding on to.
When he’d found out that she was planning on making a move to London, it came as a bitter disappointment. He was sure their time was finally up.
Even though he’d promised he’d always have her back, even she wasn’t enough to make him leave his daughter behind. Valentina might’ve been eighteen years old by this time—an adult in her own damn right—but he was still her father, and he would never bail on her. When Lara sat him down with perhaps the most sincere and understanding smile he’d ever seen her wear, she told him she would never have expected him to.
“I’m gonna fucking miss you, you know that?”
Well, he could allow her a little bit of smugness.
If he’d had it in his mind that it was time to say goodbye, that shit had flown out the window as soon as she’d walked his daughter into the room. The two were smiling as though they were in on some kind of joke he wasn’t privy to. Fucking annoying. When Valentina held out a piece of paper in his direction, it didn’t take him long to understand why they looked so excited. Henry wouldn’t be leaving his daughter behind because Lara had personally paid for her to attend university in London. To finally get away from her mother now she was old enough to make the decision for herself…
It might just have been the nicest fucking thing anyone had ever done for him. For his daughter. Period. His gratitude knew no bounds. Even if he’d wanted to reject the generosity out of pride alone, he knew that Lara wouldn’t accept it.
Holy fuck.
They were finally getting a fresh start, and he didn’t have to give up doing what he loved?
Of course, he should have said thank you.
“You could’ve fucking told me that before I said I was going to miss you,” definitely seemed more fitting, though.
SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. Vanessa García (wife, separated, unplayable)
FAMILY: Valentina García (daughter, unplayable)
CONNECTIONS:
Dev Daryani: Good friend. Though they met whilst working in Cávado together under Johnathan Parsons, it wasn’t until the two of them started fighting for Lara that they really bonded. Henry might be talented with his fists, but he’s got nothing on Dev, and they both know it. He has a lot of respect for the man, and is always eager to learn what he can from him to improve his own game.
Adriana Amaro: Good friend. Lara often jokes that Adriana is the only person she’s ever met who’s sassier than him. Fucking rude, but probably correct, and it’s almost definitely why when the two of them get together, it’s entertaining for everybody involved. Though Adriana probably isn’t the type of person he would’ve associated with if it hadn’t been for her closeness to Lara, he’s glad to have gotten the chance to get to know her better over the years.
Johnathan Parsons: Former boss. Even though he served under Parsons loyally for years, he sometimes wonders whether his antagonistic choices do the family more harm than good. Of course, he was never fucking stupid enough to say it aloud, but now that he stands at Lara’s side, Henry certainly has a better angle to scrutinize him from. All he can hope is that London doesn’t spiral out of control in the same way Porto Velho did because of his decisions.
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Okay so here’s the meet-cute (or more accurately meet-aggravating-then-cute) between Pete and Tori from this thing that I’m apparently writing on Monday nights now.
Under a jump, because it’s long and I’m not an animal who will shit up your dash unnecessarily.
Tori was dozing in her seat as the last stragglers boarded the plane. It was unusually empty for a flight to London, but then again, 3am on a Tuesday in November was probably the least pleasant time for anyone to travel willingly.
Cheap though.
Not that that mattered much, but still, fiscal responsibility and all that jazz.
She shifted, turning her face to the aisle and stretching her legs under the seat in front of her. Everything was going perfectly - she had an aisle seat, with no-one beside, behind, or in front of her, no babies within five metres of her, and at least six hours where she could actually sleep without worrying about anyone trying to kill her - when he showed up.
Maybe six feet, if he was standing at attention, the palest white boy she'd ever seen, mousy brown hair, nervous as all hell, and fidgeting with a pair of black glasses. And headed straight for her.
She closed her eyes and shifted in her seat and raised her knees, blocking his path to 32A. Or 32B. Whichever. She wanted the row to herself. She wanted to stretch out. It would be nice.
He stood at the seat and looked down at her. She shifted again, still pretending to be asleep.
"Excuse me?" His voice was surprisingly deep for such a scrawny boy. Had she not been committed to pretending to be asleep, she'd have given him another glance.
Too bad for them both that she was.
He cleared his throat and touched her shoulder gingerly, almost like he was afraid of her.
Good.
Or possibly sweet.
Probably better if he was afraid.
"Hello?"
She muttered something and turned to face the aisle again.
Someone else was there. The flight attendant, she assumed.
"I'm sorry," the boy said, "But can I change my seat? I don't want to-"
"I'm sorry, sir," the attendant said in that formal, polite, and entirely too brusque way they got on these red-eyes. "Not until after take-off, I'm afraid."
"Really?"
Tori had to struggle to suppress a smile at the disbelief in his voice.
"Yes," The flight attendant wasn't having any of this. She probably wanted his scrawny ass in the seat worse than he wanted to not sit beside her. "Security and safety rules, you understand."
"I don't, really," he began.
Tori shifted again, stretching her legs out under the seat in front of her again and giving the kid a chance to climb over her.
He took it. Clumsily.
Clumsily enough to drag his heavy woollen coat over top of her, and without paying enough attention to his satchel. Whatever he had in there was solid enough that she wouldn't have to pretend at being asleep any more.
"What the hell," she slurred as she opened her eyes. "Watch what you're doing, jackass."
He looked at her, alarmed, as he dropped into the window seat. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"Watch what you were doing," Tori said, using her best 'I can and will kill you' voice. The one she saved for special occasions.
"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't realise that I...are you okay?"
She didn't respond, just flipped him off and rolled to face the aisle again.
"Great," he muttered, probably figuring she’d gone back to sleep.
Stupid.
"What?" Tori said, sitting up and fixing him with her best 'boy you just fucked up' stare. "Do you have a problem with me?"
"No, I just-"
He was dead in the water and they both knew it.
"Don't want to sit beside a beautiful woman, is that it?" Her eyes narrowed and she fixed him with a hard stare.
His eyes widened with fear. "What? No!" He shook his head and raised his hands "I wouldn't-"
She opened her mouth in feigned shock. She was enjoying this. "So you don't think I'm beautiful?" She managed to sound hurt, offended, and like she was enjoying herself all at once.
It was a gift.
The boy squirmed. He blushed. It was glorious "No, I-"
"So you do think I’m beautiful!" She raised her arms in victory. Yes. Victory. Mostly. She grinned as his blush deepend. "You leacherous-"
"No, that's-!" He shook his head and raised his hands in surrender. "Look, can we just forget this? I'm not the best flier, and I would rather not have a fight with my seatmate on top of the whole anxiety about being in some sort of unavoidable disaster."
Tori cursed silently. He definitely had the look of someone nervous about something other than her about him. The last thing she wanted was to deal with someone having a panic attack while she tried to sleep.
And the plane was starting to move.
Shit. Time to distract him.
He was looking out the window, his hands gripping the arm-rests so tightly she could see the veins standing out. Tori ripped the corner from an Inflight magazine and flicked it at him.
It landed squarely at the end of his jawbone.
His hand shot up to his neck. "What the hell-"
"Shut up," She said with a shake of her head. "I have an important question for you."
He blinked. "What?"
Tori rolled her eyes. "A question. You know, a sentence worded to get information from someone? That was an example."
He narrowed his eyes, like he didn't quite believe what she was saying. "Yes, I know what a question is. What do you want to know?"
Tori smiled disarmingly, or at least she hoped she did. "You're human, right?"
The boy recoiled, taken aback by the question. "What?"
She sighed heavily, as if a particularly stupid person had just asked a particularly stupid question. "Human," she said slowly. "A Son of the Earth. Qua pulvis es et, in pulverum revertis."
He blinked. "Well...yes. Aren't you?"
"Of course I am," she managed to not sound too offended. She hoped. "But that's not the point."
"What is the point?" He was beginning to get exasperated. Good.
Time to blind him with her brilliance. Or baffle him with her bullshit. Either way.
"The point is that you shouldn't be a good flier. Humans aren't meant to fly, but we do anyway. We made giant metal tubes that hurtle us through the sky at the speed of sound just so we can crap somewhere new. Unorthodox display of hubris, but hey, if that's not the history of the species, right?"
He stared at her in silence. Like he was suddenly appraising her anew.
The plane was lifting off, and he didn't even notice.
She shifted uncomfortably. "What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. You're...nothing. I-"
"I'm most certainly something! I'm someone, even!" She said with mock indignation.
He shook his head, "That's not what I meant! I-"
"It's what you said, Peter Price. Do you often not mean what you say?"
He narrowed his eyes and leaned toward her. "How - how did you know my-"
Tori grinned and produced a slim blue booklet. "Your passport...fell out of your pocket while you were climbing over me."
Peter reached for it, and she shook it mockingly as he strained against his belt. After a few seconds of watching him struggle to reach it, she tipped it into his hand.
"Here," she said with a grin, "I don't need it anymore. You don't look 32, by the way."
He snatched the passport back and shoved it into a trouser pocket. "Why would you steal my-"
"Shush now," Tori said as she turned to face the aisle, "We're airborne and it's time for my beauty sleep."
She grinned as she imagined his face when he asked "What?"
***
Tori awoke with a start. She could feel the airframe beginning to buck as the plane passed by a storm below. She looked around, and saw Peter staring out the window, white-knuckling the armrests again.
She sighed.
"Hey, Pete," she said as she leaned over and punched his shoulder lightly.
He nearly jumped out of his seat before turning to stare at her. "What the hell was that for?"
"Oh be quiet," she said with a dismissive wave. "It didn't hurt."
"Sure," he said, rubbing his shoulder. "Of course it didn't."
"Didn't hurt me, at least," she said with a shrug. "Anyway, Peter Price, why don't you tell me how you got saddled with such an awful name?"
"What's wrong with my name?" He was indignant. Good. It'd distract him.
Tori looked at him like he had just asked the most obvious question in the world. "Peter Price?" she said disbelievingly. "With a name like that, you might as well be a Stan Lee character. Maybe some kind of lame alternate universe Spider-Man. Discount Spider-Man. Spider-Guy. Cockroach-Man."
"It's a family name," he bristled. "The firstborn in each generation is named Peter."
"Even girls?" She managed to make it
"What?" He didn't look like he noticed the plane shuddering. That was good.
"You know," she mimed a set of curves and then gestured to herself. “Girls.”
"Yes, I know girls."
Sure you do.
"So, you got girl cousins named Peter?" she asked. "Maybe an aunt Pete-unia?"
"Petra, actually," he said with an attempt at sounding dignified.
"Well," she said with a grin, "At least someone in your family knows Latin."
"I know-" he began, as the plane dropped suddenly. He paled and began sweating almost immediately.
"Hey!" she tapped his elbow gently. "Pete, I'm talking to you!"
He jumped again. Looked at her like a trapped animal. He managed to rasp out a strangled "What?"
"Dixi," she began, slowly. "'Tu Latinam non intellego.'"
The plane shuddered again.
Maybe the storm wasn't quite as far below them as she'd guessed.
"Hey, Pete," she said reaching out to him.
He locked eyes with her. She recognized that look. Panic.
"Here," she said gently. "Take my hand."
He looked at it and then back to Tori.
"Take it, dummy," she said with a soft smile.
He took her hand in his. She did her best to not grimace at the sweat.
"Victoria," she said. "Cushing. Tori to my friends."
Peter nodded blankly. "Nice to...nice to meet you, Victoria."
The plane shuddered again, and he squeezed her hand surprisingly tight. Almost painfully so.
She squeezed back, softly.
"Hey," she said in a gentle voice. "It's okay, Pete. Just a bit of turbulence. We'll be okay."
He looked at her disbelievingly and she gave him a lopsided grin and what she hoped was a confident yet mischievous wink. "Don't worry. I'm not going to die in a plane crash. It's going to be in a warehouse somewhere."
He started to say something when another wave of turbulence hit. A strangled yelp came out instead.
"It's okay," she said, "just pay attention to my voice. We're gonna be just fine."
Forty minutes later, they had passed the worst of it. Peter was leaning against the window, his eyes closed, and Tori was on her third glass of ice water. She hadn't talked that much in a long while.
She looked over at him and smiled. He wasn't bad, as far as people who kept her from stretching out during a flight went.
"Have a good nap, Pete," she said quietly as she turned in her seat.
"You too, Victoria," he murmured back.
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Afternoon Gifts (Babyfic)
For starter’s, I decided to post this now because it’s growing larger than I want to wait for. Also this is a “Fuck you the ten year time skip never happened and no bodies fuckin’ dead” AU! Featuring SunPrince Prompto and MoonPrince Noctis (because I love them and they get to be gay married okay)
Noctis sucks in a breath, staring at the floor, his hand still on the doorknob as he tries to find the words he’s about to need.
How the fuck...his dad might’ve managed to ask the impossible in having Noctis deliver the news.
Next time, he’s definitely just going to make sure Prompto comes with him to a “one-on-one” with the King. After all, Prompto’s a Prince now too and more than capable of handling the job.
“Hey Noct!”
Prompto’s footsteps are familiar, quick and light like he’s not fully tethered to the ground but stopping hard, like he almost forgot to stop moving forward. Noctis closes his eyes and sighs, looks like he’s out of thinking time.
“Oh...bad meeting?”
Noctis shakes his head, hand sliding off the door as he straightens up and leans back, brushing his hair off his forehead and looking at the ceiling, anywhere but his husbands face.
“Not...bad. Dad just wanted to talk about some “future” stuff…”
Prompto frowns, Noctis can practically hear the sound of his lips turning down but he tips his head back down to look just in case he’s wrong. He’s not.
“What kind of “future” stuff?”
He really, really wishes Prompto didn’t already sound so worried, but he supposes he has the right. After all the last few times this sort of thing had come up it had resulted in Noctis and Regis fighting, since Regis had initially not wanted Noctis to marry Prompto and then later Noctis hadn’t wanted to face his father’s mortality.
“It’s the ‘Noctis you must produce an heir’ kind. I was kinda hoping he’d forget about that.”
Prompto’s expression is concerned and worried for a brief moment and then a smile spreads and he laughs, like Noctis doesn’t recognize the defenses by now.
“Oh! Well we can’t have a kid dude, so what, does he want you to cheat on me?”
Noctis groans and shakes his head, moving to the couch in their apartment and flopping down on it, loosening his tie as he goes.
“No, of course not, he loves you too much. He wants...he wants us to look for a surrogate.”
Prompto huffs but starts tugging off Noctis shoes anyways, “That’s a lady to carry your baby yeah?”
Noctis snorts and nods, letting his eyes slip closed as he relaxes a little.
“Do you have to sleep with her or can we just...I don’t know, turkey baster thing it?”
“It’s called in vitro. Turkey-baster...you’ve been watching shitty 80’s movies again haven’t you?”
Prompto laughs and Noctis feels a little more of the tension leave him, it’s a genuine sound and he’s glad Prompto’s at least willing to talk about this, even if it is awkward as hell.
“I only watched like..a couple! And you’re not answering my question Noctis!”
The slight raise of Prompto’s voice belied his genuine concern and Noctis opened his eyes again, sitting up and catching one of Prompto’s hands in his, stroking his thumbs over the skin.
“Hey, hey...I don’t have to sleep with her, at least, I shouldn’t. We can do IVF stuff and everything. WE have to agree on who it is too...I told dad I wouldn’t do it if you were too against it or we couldn’t find someone we both liked.”
He presses a kiss to Prompto’s freckled cheek and tugs his lover’s hand again so he steps around the arm of the couch and sits, letting Noctis scoot around until his head is in Prompto’s lap.
Long fingers shift through his hair and Noctis smiles a little against the fabric of Prompto’s lazy day yoga pants. He always likes coming home to him, but even more when Prompto’s dressed comfy, Noctis’ own smell clings to him in his borrowed shirt and the Prince relaxes further.
“I have no idea who to ask even...and they have to be willing and in good health.”
Prompto hums thoughtfully, “What about Cindy?”
Noctis groans, Prompto’s maybe still a little infatuated with the royal mechanic. His husband chuckles and pokes his cheek.
“Not that! Dude, she’s...she kinda looks like me.”
Prompto’s tone takes on an odd strained note and Noctis rolls too look up at him, seeing the way he tries to hide what he’s thinking, but it’s there still, to Noctis.
“Oh.”
Prompto gives him a quick smile and a raised eyebrow.
“You think it might look more like our kid then?”
Prompto’s nod is a little sheepish and he bites at his lip, but Noctis takes a moment to imagine, not a child of his and Cindy’s, but a baby with Prompto’s almost curls and blue-black hair, big blue eyes and a smattering of freckles, Prompto’s nose and Noctis’ mouth. His chest tightens oddly and he looks away from Prompto, staring at the ceiling.
He thinks about how Cindy’s features will change the image, maybe green eyes and skin more tan, true curls. It’s too close and too far at the same time and he swallows hard.
“I dunno man.”
Prompto shrugs, “Yeah, freckles and your skin? Probably not a great look.”
He still looks a little put out though and Noctis taps his nose.
“It’s not the freckles Prom. If anything, it’s the accent.”
That draws a laugh from him and Noctis grins, leaning up for a languid kiss. “We’ve got time.”
He mutters, against lips that are quickly becoming more interested in not-talking.
“I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up a list of options for you and Prompto to consider. They are by no means the only women who might be suitable, but certainly those I thought you would be comfortable with.”
Noctis accepts the file with all the grace of an alligator with indigestion and Ignis frowns at him.
“Iggy...come on, it’s a bit early for all of this don’t you think?”
Ignis presses his fingers together, leveling his trademark advisors stare at Noctis,
“Normally I would agree, but the council is pushing for a decision to be made. You’ve been married nearly two years now and it’s no secret how long you dated before then, they seem to believe you should be looking toward your duty now. You’re father’s health is not declining nearly as quickly as it was before the treaty, but they are cautious. No one can know how long it may take to conceive and if your first choice is not...optimal, adjustments must be made.”
Noctis flinches, fingers pressing harder where he’s gripping the file, too many reminders of how little time there may be until he finds himself crowned.
“And they know that once I put on the ring, I’ll hardly have the energy to raise a child.”
He can’t help the bitterness of the words as he looks aside, it’s something he tries not to think about, something Prompto’s good at dismissing, even though they both know there will come a day when he can’t keep up with the energetic blonde. It’s an icy grip around his heart now.
Ignis’ voice breaks through the melancholy, “Noct, you can’t know that. The draw of the crystals lessens all the time. The scourge is being eradicated and it’s power isn’t so needed.You’ll have plenty of time. I...I believe taking this, “ he touches the folder, the advisor is gone, replaced by the friend, “and thinking about the woman you’re looking for will calm the council’s frenzy, give you and Prompto time to find who you want and to adjust to the thought of a child. It’s why I took this task as well, so there would be no one pushing for a hasty choice.”
Noctis nods slowly, watching Ignis sit back in his chair, light blue dress shirt perfectly pressed, well fitted grey slacks and perfectly matched belt, shoes, and cufflinks. He looks down at himself, a loose tee and a borrowed pair of Prompto’s work out pants, barefoot.
“I...I haven’t thought much...about the actually having a kid part.”
Ignis seems to know, as usual, what his concern is, “That’s why I thought it important for you to have time. For what it’s worth, I believe you and Prompto will make very capable, if somewhat unorthodox, parents.”
Noctis swallows, the folder in his grasp weighs more than it should,
“Thanks, Ig.”
Prompto’s notes are filled with smiley faces and Noctis just rolls his eyes and he moves the one covering the woman’s name. It’s not particularly familiar and it takes him a long moment to place her face.
“The wedding...she came with someone?”
Prompto shrugs, “Dunno, I thought she was pretty, you should have pretty babies.”
He scoops another bite of fro-yo up, “but she’s also got a few health problems and we don’t know her at all, so...eh?”
Noctis snorts and pulls her information out, settling her into the pile of “no” that is growing far too quickly beside them on the large bed. He finds there’s a few of them he might be alright with but Prompto’s good at pointing out the cons of most of them. He’s trying not to be too happy about that, after all it would be easier if they could just chose someone.
He dismisses the next woman immediately, he remembers her, the way she sneered at Prompto, “Common folk are not welcome at my gala’s, but I suppose our young Prince is still learning.”
Prompto glances at her face and sticks his tongue out at the photo, “She was so displeased when I didn’t let her come to our reception.”
Noctis raises an eyebrow at him, even as he takes a bite and says, “what?” around a glob of fro-yo.
“Ignis is around too much if you’re saying “displeased” give me my husband back.”
Prompto grins and immediately has to slurp a little of the melting treat off his chin. Noctis just bumps his shoulder and looks back at the folder, a surprised sound tumbling out.
“Luna?”
Prompto sounds just as surprised, his notes ended the one before, though after a moment’s thought he nods, “Doubt Nyx’d like that.”
Noctis just stays quiet, touching the picture of the oracle. He glances at Prompto, who has already dismissed her, and back to the photo.
“I mean...we do know her pretty well.”
Prompto’s face goes blank so fast that Noctis feels his stomach curl, “Yeah. We know you’re almost-wife really well. I love Luna Noct, but it’s not a good idea.” “
Why?”
It’s more accusatory than he means but Prompto doesn’t get angry, just sets his spoon and bowl aside and takes a deep breath.
“There’s still people who think it shoulda been her right? If you have a kid with her...it’s only gonna get worse. Our marriage will seem weaker and Luna’s having the same trouble we did since Nyx is kinda like me. We don’t wanna do that to her, or to us. I...I don’t know if I’d be okay with it too.”
Prompto rubs his hand over his wrist and Noctis bites back his instinctive comments, thinking. Prompto’s right and really, looking back at Luna’s picture, he can’t imagine having a child with her now, not to mention the Blood of the Oracle mess it might make. He sets the photo aside and leans to swipe a finger through Prompto’s yogurt, kissing his cheek apologetically.
“You’re right but this...ugh. It’s so stupid! How are we supposed to choose some woman? What if they want to raise the kid too? They have to be someone we can be around a lot, because I don’t want to make them stay away or anything...I just thought...Luna would be easier for us that way.”
Prompto nods, “I know Noct. I have no clue dude, who else is left?”
They scoot closer, shoulder to shoulder in the middle of their bed and look at the next person. Crowe’s a friend, but she’s already told them both she never wants a kid, too much chance of her dying in service and she’s just..not good with them. They don’t say anything as they set her aside, there’s no way Ignis could’ve known.
The last person in the file makes Noctis cough and Prompto whistles, Iris Amicitia.
“That’s….”
Prompto doesn’t have to finish the sentence as he stares at the picture of Iris, old enough now of course but still he remembers her a few years back. Noctis just groans and flops back, disturbing their pitiful yes pile.
“If Ignis wants us dead, he could just poison us.”
#babyfic#part 1#FFXV FAnficition#Promptis#Prompto argentum#noctis lucis caelum#ignis stupeo scientia#picking babymoms is hard mmmkay#Iris Amicitia#SunPrince#MoonPrince#established relationship#babies!
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fmk variation: (jack, buzzo, lisa) + (milton, johan, claptrap) + (admin, flowey, a dog)
omg.... haha. god.ok this is for the version which is like.... ‘• get randomly assigned as your lab partner for a whole semester,• get trapped with on a broken elevator for ten hours• get as my employee trainer for my new job at McDonalds’ so yeah i’m going to answer this.{ jack, buzzo, lisa. }wow. tough crowd. tough crowd.• get randomly assigned as your lab partner for a whole semester look. it would be buzzo. he’s a scientist. and Presumedly if we’re in any position to be like. doing lab work, it would be in a relatively non hostile environment. dude was a student at some point. i mean... i think buzzo would know more than me on this subject so he’d probably talk down to me a little but assuming I’m Not Brad it wouldn’t be so bad. buy him a coffee at some point maybe.• get trapped with on a broken elevator for ten hours you know. it’s hell? like ok. there’s no option to this where i can pick jack and it wouldn’t be worse so i’m going with this one. jack would be a fucking awful partner and an even worse employee trainer (dude’s a fucking abysmal boss) so yeah, 10 hours in an elevator with jack. it probably wouldn’t be great to be the only thing he has a possibilty of venting frustration at for 10 hours, but somehow those other options are actually worse.• get as my employee trainer for my new job at McDonalds lisa. i’m not sure what kind of boss she’d be? i could imagine some potentially cool ways that could go okay. i don’t think she’d be too gungho about a job at mcdonalds, so i can’t imagine her like... being super uptight about things. older lisa: ‘dont spill a vat of oil on urself kid’. {milton, johan, claptrap}• get randomly assigned as your lab partner for a whole semester ummm im tempted to say milton but actually johan, because id rather not be caught in an elevator for 10 hours with him and his psychological bullshit (yes they both do that but johan is demonstratably worse about this). johan is focused on doing well all the time ok there’s no way you’re getting a shitty grade with johan as your lab partner. like maybe he’ll orchestrate the death of your family or some shit or see you as a pawn for a conspiracy he’s enacting or lock you in a burning building but god? your grade would be good? and anyway if you’re useful to him on any level he’d probably be chill bc he has an image to maintain in a public space.• get trapped with on a broken elevator for ten hours milton. milton’s whole life is basically them being trapped in an elevator anyway so it’s no different from any other conversation you’d have with them. milton would just be like ‘oh. you’re booored. i see . unfamiliar feeling. i can’t relate. i see you’re paying more attention to me now that you have nothing to occupy you. i wonder if you’ll stop talking to me when the elevator opens’ etc etc some passive aggressive bullshit with trust/abandonment issues even though milton refuses to admit theyre passive aggressive or have abandonment issues. id assure them id still talk to them and as it turns out theyre probably the reason the elevator stopped in the first place because they’re lonely af and seek attention in maladaptive ways.• get as my employee trainer for my new job at McDonald claptrap. i might have to ask other people to clarify instructions but he’d be pretty chill i think. idk seeing him in bl2 he’s not too bad of a boss... he’d probably give really long lectures tho about mundane things... he’d like someone looking up to him. i do wonder if he’d ever assert his power being like ‘ahahaha im ur teacher!’ but i think he’s too concerned about being liked to seriously be too bad of a boss, and all of the times he’s done that in bl2 have just been kind of silly and non-harmful. out of the three people in this category he’d definitely be the most chill and lenient with mistakes. just a bit prideful about training you, probably. he’d tell you that you did a good job minion. he’d probably brag about teaching you your shit all the time after he stopped being your employee trainer, but that kind of thing it’s just... it’s claptrap. who can be mad.{admin, flowey, a dog)• get randomly assigned as your lab partner for a whole semester flowey. kind of precocious kid. read everything in the world once or twice and at least some of that has probably been academic. i think flowey probably has the experience of reading a lot of information they know but don’t quite understand. i’m actually unsure how casual conversation would go there... would flowey be annoyed with me when i didnt know things? probably. but i think being given an environment where he can learn things he’d be a somewhat good if occasionally disruptive student. might get people going ‘oh you have that partner’ but eh, it’d be ok.• get trapped with on a broken elevator for ten hours definitely a dog. i mean. out of all the options ive gotten so far that’s p much the chillest person to get stuck in an elevator with. would be cute and not expecting much emotionally out of me. we could sleep in the elevator.• get as my employee trainer for my new job at McDonalds admin. I Know That Sounds Unorthodox but like... admin was actually p chill to the people of gehenna when they were running things. it’s just. that they wanted to be appreciated. and listened to. and you can’t make sock puppets in real life so although i’m sure admin runs a forum with sock puppets somewhere else, in managerial duties they’d prob just be a bit bitter and pa. but they like leadership roles so as someone who was like, listening to them? they’d probably be pretty chill? i bet u if you said ‘thanks for teaching me’ theyd beam a bit. even if they didn’t show it. (on the other hand if you were ungrateful theyd prob be PA about it ‘all the time i put into this workplace... and the people here don’t care about me...’ etc) I think admin’s actually good at leadership positions despite their personal issues re: that so i think it’d be chill tho.
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