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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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54. I’m not sure what you think I said, but you start calling me an asshole and whip a ruler at me and somehow, we both end up in detention

Indruck, sfw, please?

Here you go! Content note: spiders appear at one point.

I based some of this AU--namely the concept of the Crucible and how magic is channeled--on the Carry On series by Rainbow Rowell. And Duck is trans in this, because any good wizarding school is inclusive.

After three years at Amnesty Academy, Duck is used to the objects being magically propelled through the air. But a ruler zipping through the air and smacking the back of his head is a new, unpleasant experience.

He tracks it to two chairs to his left, the new third year with the silver hair. He hasn’t even been here a day, what the fuck the is his problem?

“Hey, what the hell man?”

“You know very well what.”

“Uh, no I don’t, and I don’t appreciate bein hit with a fuckin ruler!”

“The maybe think before you insult someone next time!”

“I didn’t fuckin insult you! I don’t even know your name!”

“Ahem.” Ned, their Charms professor, looks down at them reproachfully, “gentlemen, while I know the review of Zone of Truth is rather dull, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t entertain yourselves with mindless conflict.”

“Sorry, Ned.” Duck mumbles, sending his pencil shooting below desk level to whack the other guy in the leg at the exact same moment he whips his pen at Duck’s hand.

“OW!”

Ned sighs, “I hate to do this, but-”

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“Detention! Lovely, my first day here and I’m in trouble. Thank you so much, Duck Newton, for landing us here.”

“You started it!” He growls as they take their seats. God, he hopes this isn’t one of Woodbridge’s days.

“Huh, only two.” Mama wipes her boots on the mat, closes the door behind her, “Afternoon, Duck. And…”

“Indrid.” Says his nemesis, “It is nice to meet you Professor C-” he cocks his head, “you really prefer I call you ‘Mama?’”

“Yep. Never could get behind that more formal stuff. Let some of the first years call me ‘Ms. Mama’ if they really need to feel like they’re showin some deference.”

Mama is deputy Headmistress of Amnesty. The only reason she’s not fully in charge is that she’s not a witch and some families object to that. So The Quell technically runs the school while Mama does most of the actual day to day work. She also teaches a course of non-magic practical skills because, “some things you can’t magic your way out of. Like taxes.”

Duck loves her class and, while he doesn’t understand why someone would opt into this weirdness, he admires the guts it takes as a fifteen year old human to walk into a wizarding school and declare that there was plenty you could learn there even though you couldn’t so much as send a spark from your fingers.

As he and Indrid watch the clock tick down, Mama pulls a bag from her satchel. The contents are cookies, which she offers to each of them.

“Barclay tryin’ out new recipes?”

“Course he is. Kid is gonna be the best damn kitchen witch in the country by the time he graduates. Guess he’s plannin to spend the summer drivin around and learnin the food magic of different regions.” She smiles, “bet you’ll never guess who’s goin’ with him.”

“Joe?”

“Bingo. Apparently he wants to study niche cultural magic.”

Duck’s pretty sure there’s another motive; sharing a van bed with Barclay. It sounds fun, roving the country, discovering new places with someone handsome by your side.

All that’s by his side is a glower hiding behind red glasses.

“Mama? I, ah, would it be possible for me to leave five minutes early? I’m supposed to get my pairing from the Crucible tonight.”

The older woman looks between the two of them, “Better tell me how you landed here first. Ned just said it was an argument.”

“He threw a ruler at me outta nowhere.”

“It was not, you know what you said.”

“The last thing I said before you hit me was ‘“nah, man’ when Billy offered me a pizza roll from his lunch.”

Indrid goes still, “Oh. I, ah, I misheard you. I thought you said 'mothman.' I apologize. I ought to have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

He seems so suddenly downtrodden that Duck shrugs, “Yeah, you should have. But it ain’t the worst thing that’s happened to me here. Not by a long shot.”

“No kiddin” Mama leans back on the desk, “Two of you can go at five til.”

His evening turns uneventful after that; dinner, hanging out with Juno and Aubrey, half doing homework and half fucking around on his phone in his room (the agreement between the school and the government is that a long as the students don’t post vidoes of themselves doing sick stunts with magic, the government will ignore any explosions and/monsters in the vicinity of the school).

He’s never had a roommate; when the Crucible spat out his name in fire on his first day, there was no other name with it. Almost everyone else rooms in pairs or trios. So his belongings are strewn about the tiny cabin that makes up his home away from home. Which is why, when the door creaks open at ten p.m, he sits up and prepares to fire off a spell.

Indrid stands in the doorway, one bag over his shoulder and another in his hand. He looks tired.

“Hello, Duck. Ah, I guess that one is my bed, then.”

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The class schedules for Amnesty are generated by the heart of the school itself. Indrid isn’t entirely sure what that means, but the heart must not be terribly creative. It stuck him in divination class. He’s been seeing the future since he was five, managing it with his drawings since he was eight. Even the professor has no idea what to do with him, since the images come in like a garbled T.V signal when he uses a crystal ball and the cup shattered when he tried to read tea leaves.

At least Barclay gave him a conciliatory caramel while they swept up the shards. It made him feel a bit better, though whether that’s due to enchantment or Barclay being exceedingly good at cooking is hard to say.

And now he has to go to “Magical Weaponry.” Magical Defense he understands; there are still lots of malicious forces out there, or even just everyday evils that it’s good to be able to ward against. Plus, Vincent is a good professor, enthusiastic and understanding.

Professor Minerva is just as enthusiastic but twice as loud. This is their first day in the actual gym, as opposed to at a blackboard, and his visions suggest it’s going to go poorly for him. As it should; he’s not a fighter, he’s a disaster.

At Amnesty, magic is channeled through objects. Most people use wands or their hands but some, like Aubrey, use jewelry (a necklace from her mother) or another accessory.

Duck Newton uses a sword. Or he’s trying to. The sword seems to be winning.

“Exert your will on him, Duck Newton, he answers to you!”

“I answeeer to only the capable.”

“Shut up, Beacon.” Duck adjusts his grasp, but nothing happens until he drops the sword and sends a spell through his fingers. The target explodes. Indrid suddenly feels a bit better about his own probable performance.

Duck notices him, indicates the practice area next to him is clear. While they started off poorly, his roommate is doing his best to demonstrate southern hospitality. He invites Indrid to eat with him, helps him when his visions offer no help in navigating the grounds, and even lent him a blue and green shirt (Amnesty's colors) for his first Spirit Day. Duck is the best thing to happen to him in his first month here.

By the time class is over, they have six broken targets, a shredded mat, and a knife that is now a very confused frog between them. They manage to laugh about it, even as Duck scoops up the amphibian and tucks him into his shirt pocket.

It’s then that Indrid realizes he has a crush.

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“You comin to the game tonight?” Juno measures her sapling.

“Assumin nothin comes up and nobody’s tryin to kill me, you know I’ll be there.” He loves cheering Juno on during her soccer games (hey, not everything has to be magic based, even at a wizarding school).

“Drat.”

The hissed frustration draws his attention to the far end of the work table. Indrid is trying to coax his Venus Flytraps to perk up, but they remain brown and limp.

“Need some help?”

“Please, as you clearly know what you’re doing.” Indrid tilts his head towards the sapling pine tree Duck is working on. If he does his growing spells right, he’ll be able to take it home as a Christmas Tree during winter break.

“You tend to picture words or, uh,pictures when you do your spells?”

“Images work best. The trouble is that the futures sometimes make it difficult for me to picture a spell clearly.”

“What if I try describing how I’d see it and you picture what I say?”

“It’s worth a try.” Indrid closes his eyes.

“Okay. Think about the roots drawin water up from the soil, about the traps absorbin nutrients from prey. That brown is goin green as they do, they’re stems are growin stronger…” he grins as the plant turns bright green, it’s mouths open, “hey, ‘Drid, look”

“Oh!” Indrid flaps his hands, “it worked! Now I can keep them healthy and big andohno, nono not again.”

The table cracks and collapses as the plant turns gigantic, blocking out the light from the greenhouse roof.

“Holy fuck, that’s great!”

“Language, sport, but I agree.” Thacker, the head of the magical Horticulture classes, whistles as he looks the plant up and down, “this is mighty impressive Indrid. Wonder if we could use it on some pumpkins come fall…”

“I don’t recommend it, unless you want them to chase people.” Indrid points to one of the heads, which is swaying in the air and lowering closer to him. It snaps and he leaps back, falling to a pile of potting soil. Thacker raises his walking stick and the flytrap returns to its proper size.

Duck helps Indrid up, but his friend stays quiet through the end of class and on the walk back to their room.

“You know it ain’t anythin to be ashamed of, right?” Duck flips on the light, “we all fuck up spells now and then. Hell, Aubrey is on track to be the best spellcaster this school’s ever seen and she still has trouble.”

“But mine go haywire constantly” Indrid flops, dejected, onto his bed, “forget mastering my powers, I’ll be lucky if I graduate able to keep them in check. If I graduate at all.” His hand searches the bed blindly; Duck sets the weighted, plush bat into so Indrid can set it on his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never lasted more than a year at a magical school. Or a non-magical one. I started at Mt Vernon when I was fifteen. Tried Deep Hollow and Shasta the year after that. I’m powerful but I can’t seem to channel it well, and three different schools decided I was more trouble than I was worth.”

“Bullshit.” Duck rests a hand on Indrid’s knee, “you’re strugglin with somethin; that means you need more help, not less. And if anyone gets it into their heads to kick you outta Amnesty, I’ll raise a goddamn ruckus.”

Indrid chuckles, quiet and disbelieving.

“I’m serious. You know Aubrey and them would side with me, and Joe knows school policy well enough he could probably find a reason why them tryin to get rid of you was against the rule.”

“Thank you.” Indrid’s smile is a rare flower, fragile and stunning.

“You want one of those calm-down caramels Barclay made?”

“Please.”

Duck grabs the box from the cabinet of their little kitchenette, then snags a Coke and a pineapple soda from the fridge. Indrid is no longer horizontal, is instead sitting with his back to the wall so Duck has space to join him.

Under the fizz of fresh bubbles, his friend murmurs, ‘“Have people really tried to kill you?”

“Yep. Someone sent an assassin after me my first year, and there was a Dire wolf on the grounds last winter that was clearly locked on to my scent. Perk of bein a Chosen One.” He grumbles as he swigs his drink.

“...Who on earth sends an assassin after a fifteen year old?”

“Right?! Fuck if I know, they never got any information out of the guy. Fuckin prophecy I swear, I didn’t even want these powers, let alone to be some kind of hero.”

“I sympathize.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “there are prophecies around my birth as well.”

Duck clunks their bottles together, “To bein’ fucked over by stuff we can’t control.”

Indrid drains his soda, then perks up, “Oh! Oh dear, you should go if you want to be there for Juno’s match.”

“Come with me?” Duck can’t get the image of the two of them sharing a giant pretzel while smushed thigh to thigh on the bleachers out of his head.

His friend grins, “Of course.”

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

Duck hoped, after his not-great time in middle school, that a magic academy would be asshole free. But no, there are assholes everywhere, and these ones have even more tools for tormenting their targets. He’s never been one, nor have any of his friends. The one time someone tried to bully Barclay, Dani sicked three spectral hummingbirds on them until they apologized.

Indrid, odd and new, is an easy target, though he seems to hold his own just fine (and his proximity to the most powerful witch in school does scare off many potential antagonists). But three guys in their Magical Defense class have zeroed in on him.

They’re standing in line to practice against an evil eye when Indrid’s glasses, the ones he doesn’t take off even when he sleeps, hit the floor by Duck’s feet. Duck scrambles to grab them before they get stepped on, wondering why everyone is making such a fuss. Then he turns and backs up in alarm.

An eight foot tall moth creature is where Indrid should be, red eyes wide and claws clicking together anxious.

“Who let that thing in here?” Someone yells from behind him.

Indrid’s antenna flatten.

“Fuck, wasn’t expecting him to be that big a freak” one of the bullies scoffs.

Black wings twitch.

“Newton, give him the glasses back so we don’t have to look at him!”

Indrid trills, upset, and leaps into the air at the same moment Aubrey yells, “that’s enough” and Vincent shouts a reminder about no flames in enclosed spaces and also detention for you three. Duck is to busy climbing out the window Indrid flew through to pick up the details.

One two-story fall later, he’s chasing a dark shape into the Monongahela forest. While the parts of the woods near his hometown of Kepler are non-enchanted, this chunk is magic down to the moss (he plans to write his final year project on how those halves of forest mesh on an ecological level). One of the worst aspects of the enchanted portions is their tendency to re-shape around travelers. His usual way around this is to have an unwavering sense of where he’s going and pretend the woods are giving him an unchanging path to get there. But that trick does fuck-all when he doesn’t know his destination.

After two hours of searching he’s no closer to finding Indrid, it’s getting dark, and he’s debating heading back to the school for help. He hasn’t been this deep in the woods since he fled the Dire Wolf, and he knows the deeper you go into the trees, the wilder the magic becomes. Bad news for him, even worse for his friend who's out there somewhere, upset and alone.

Eight gigantic eyes glitter at him from the dirt, and he quickly rearranges who has it worse right now.

Throwing a burst of light into the trapdoor spiders eyes buys him enough time to bolt to a tree and climb. As soon as it crawls free of its burrow he freezes; if he’s remembering right, they use vibrations to locate prey.

Fuck, that thing is the size of a VW Beatle. Why is that even a thing? No spider needs to be this big!

In spite of his stillness, it spies him and sets its forelimbs on the tree-trunk. There’s nothing else for it; he draws Beacon, pictures the spider shrinking, and casts his spell.

A soft crunch of leaves signals it hitting the ground, now an unremarkable size for an arachnid. Just as he steps down a branch, a second trap door opens and an enraged spider bursts out, looking for it’s friend. When it can’t find it, it turns and snaps its mandibles at Duck. This time, Beacon does nothing, no matter how Duck commands and curses as his eight-legged doom gets closer.

A crackle of electricity and then this spider disappears as well. On the other side of the trunk, red eyes regard him with worry, “are you hurt?”

“Nah, all in one piece thanks to you.” He holds out his hand, “you wanna head back?”

“Yes, please.” Indrid flaps to the ground, Duck following him on foot and then turning them towards campus, “you did not need to come look for me.”

“Course I did, not gonna let my friend get swallowed up by the forest. Oh, here” he holds out the red glasses, “you want these back?”

“Not just yet. That is, if this form is not too alarming to you.”

Duck takes in the glossy feathers, the charming ruff, the way the face is still obviously Indrid yet excitingly new, “I’m good.”

Light flickers from black claws, stars and flowers spinning out with ease, “It’s so much easier when I’m like this. I never foresaw my disguise charm being an issue, but the older I’ve gotten the more it seems to influence my ability to control my spells. But, well, you saw how people reacted. Even you were startled.”

“In my defense, I thought you’d been eaten by, well, you.” Duck casts the same spell, vines of light chasing the red flowers, “I’m still sorry, though. You ain’t horrible like this, ‘Drid; you’re fuckin stunnin. Never seen anyone as incredible as you.”

Indrid stops, looking down at him, “Do you truly mean that?”

Duck rises on his toes, pecking his cheek, “Yeah, I do.”

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

The Halloween Formal is the most elaborate event at Amnesty. Indrid feels that if there’s any day he’s within his rights to be in his true form, it’s when everyone else is dressed as monsters.

He doesn’t have a date. He thought Duck was in the same predicament. Then his friend left before he was half-done grooming his feathers, saying he needed to get flowers for his hot date.

Ah well. At least Indrid will get to see him there and spend some time with his friends.

He checks his reflection in the gleaming black walls, orange and purple lights glowing and jack’o lanterns floating above his head. He adjusts his robes, the nice red ones his father sent him, and prepares to enter the ballroom.

“Hold up.”

When he turns, Duck is standing there in his black dress shirt and green tie, looking for all the world like he’s alone.

“You got one more thing to put on” He holds out a bracelet of flowers, sized to slip perfectly over Indrid’s hand. There are matching flowers pinned to one side of Duck’s hair.

“Oh. Oh my. You really-”

Duck uses a small spell to bend Indrid into a kiss; it’s a bit messy, since their mouths aren’t meant to fit together, but Indrid would not trade it for all the magic in the world.

“Yeah, ‘Drid, I really do.” With that, Duck offers his elbow and they walk arm in arm into the great hall.

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #meet ugly #wizard au

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bisexualamy · 3 years

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hi. hello. i've only been following you for a short while, so apologies if there's already a post about it somewhere on your blog, but would you be willing to expand on duck newton a little bit? the thing is that i'm terribly stupid and i feel like i see your point but don't know. why exactly...

Hi! There’s not one comprehensive post about it but I’m more than happy to make this one it. And don’t beat yourself up!! I think some of this does come from “I am a trans man and his experience resonates with me” and personally, I think that being an argument for identifying someone as gay/trans/queer coded is valid. But that’s not, imo, the only reason why many folks (including myself) really see Duck as a trans man. So here are a few more. Spoilers for the ending of TAZ: Amnesty ahead.

Goes by a nickname & treats revealing his “actual”/proper/non-nickname name as a sign of intimacy - I think this is the most obvious one but the way that Justin plays it gives it a genuine quality that really fits with Duck being trans. I love the exchange between Duck and Aubrey where she asks for his name, he replies “Duck” and when she presses him he says “we’re not there yet” and she says “we’re not at names?!”

Names being an intimate symbol is not exclusive to trans folks, but for many of us, choosing our names is often a literal and symbolic first step towards redefining the lens through which the world sees us. This time, in a way we want to. Duck’s earnest insistence that no, he is Duck, and that’s enough, comes off as very trans. So much so, that I wasn’t sure initially how I felt about his name reveal to Minerva in the finale. But the more I sat with it, and after my Amnesty re-listen, I think it actually puts a really fine point on this.

Choosing a name for yourself is really vulnerable. From what we know about Duck’s past, it really sounds like Duck has gone by Duck since he was a kid. Juno has known Duck since they were both teens, at least, and she’s always called him Duck, even in flashbacks. Duck remarks in another flashback that his mom doesn’t like the name Duck, yet he still insists on using that name. To me, it’s very easy to take a trans reading of Duck here. Duck has had clear discomfort with his birth name since he was a kid, whether or not he realized it was for a trans reason. He starts going by a nickname very early on, and later chooses a more traditionally male name (Wayne) as his legal name when he transitions. But in a sense, he was Duck before he was anything else. Revealing the secret name he chose for himself to Minerva, in this reading, just makes that an even more intimate moment.

Part of an alternative subculture as a kid - this is somewhat anecdotally based, but we know Duck was a skater and kind of a punk as a teenager when he was going through his own period of self-discovery. Alternative subcultures are often refuges for lgbt and gnc folks as teens, because they can be safe spaces for alternate gender expression. For me, being part of the pop punk/emo subculture as a kid gave me a lot more freedom to experiment with gender neutral and masculine gender presentation. I see Duck’s past as a skater and a punk a good parallel for this. We also know that Duck had kind of a fraught adolescence, and this was an outlet for him. I think this reading is even stronger when you consider him as a trans character, trying on the identities of different subcultures in parallel to understanding his own gender identity. His character arc redefining his identity as the chosen one is a genuinely great parallel for the trans gender euphoria, self acceptance, and taking an active role in reshaping one’s identity - this is absolutely my favorite one. Duck’s literal journey as the chosen one works really well as a metaphorical trans narrative, and I honestly think it strengthens his character arc to read him as a trans character redefining what it means to be the chosen one. Duck is caught between who he is as part of the Kepler community and who he is as the chosen one in an interstellar war. And his character arc is finding what it means to be all of these things and also Duck. From a young age, Duck is told he’s the chosen one, and his whole life is redefined in front of him. He’s very resistant to accepting this fact. What will this mean for his family? What will this mean for him and his future? What if he doesn’t want this? Why him? Who picked him? What if I don’t want all this baggage? Can I please give this to someone else? His first scene with Minerva is very reminiscent of the first moment of “wait, am I trans? What does that mean? Who am I, actually? I don’t want this.” Many trans folks, myself included, sort of know they’re trans before they know they’re trans. In our transphobic society, it’s a lot easier to just not be trans. It sort of sits there in the back of your mind, and sometimes you can ignore it, sometimes you even forget about it, but it inevitably always comes back. Because to ignore you’re trans is to ignore the truth of your life. The same thing happens to Duck and his identity as the chosen one. Minerva literally reappears to him throughout his life to remind him that he can’t run from his destiny, as much as he tries to shut her out. Duck even goes through periods of accepting “hey, maybe this chosen one thing isn’t so bad” only for something to go a bit wrong and him to completely reject it again. Minerva gives Duck Beacon, and for a moment he’s like “hey, this is kind of cool” before his destiny scares him and he falls back into what the hell am I doing and eventually gives Beacon to Ned. He shuts away a symbol of the identity he’s running from, much like a trans person might hide objects or experiences that give them gender euphoria, because to accept them is to start to accept the truth of who you are. I also like this reading because it makes Leo Tarkesian a great parallel for older trans mentors. Leo lived the life of the chosen before Duck. He’s gone through this all before and now his role is to keep Duck safe and make sure he safely comes into his own identity as the chosen one. The found family? The generational mentorship? The fact that Leo and Duck talk about the emotional weight of being chosen in a way Duck can’t really express with others? Even Minerva? Very trans. When Duck stops running from who he is he realizes he might actually like being the chosen one. When he loses his abilities, he realizes he misses them. But the solution isn’t to just become what Minerva tells him. The solution isn’t to just abandon all of his principles and values, abandon everything that makes Duck Duck and transform into the model of a chosen one. Duck won’t kill anybody. Duck chooses to make decisions with arguably worse outcomes for himself to avoid killing anybody (like saving Billy the Goatman). Duck gets to define what it means to be Duck The Chosen. He won’t settle for anything less. This, to me, is a really awesome parallel for not just accepting one’s gender but accepting oneself and your experiences of gender, and making it your own until it feels euphoric. Two other quick things that are more my opinion than textual analysis:

Duck’s brand of a softer masculinity made me feel euphoric as a trans man and it’s a kind of masculinity I see a lot of trans men aspire to have. Yes, not all trans men are masculine in this way. However, I think the gentle streak in his masculinity codes him as this type of trans man. This great thread goes into more depth on that.

Duck is characterized quite strongly as a staple of the Kepler community. He knows everybody and they all know him and they all call him Duck. It’s just, “that’s our Duck.” That’s a wonderful thing for me as a trans person, to see a community come together around accepting a trans person they’ve known all his life, and certainly known since before his transition. That just makes me happy. 

This was long but I hope it helped better understand why Duck is so important to me as a trans character! Thank you for the ask. I had a lot of fun writing this up.

#taz #taz amnesty #taz meta #taz amnesty meta #duck newton #hailing frequencies open #okay to reblog #long post ///#my meta #Anonymous

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dvp95 · 4 years

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quiet on widow’s peak (11)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.1k (this chapter), 35.5k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Phil hates taking public transit anywhere that he hasn't memorized a route and the inevitable issues with it, but he's not about to ask his parents for a ride to the city. In fact, he ducks out of the house with nothing but a 'be back later' tossed over his shoulder. His stomach is making unhappy noises the entire ride to the Rusholme area, and he regrets not putting a cereal bar or something in his bag after his parents went to sleep. He supposes that he could have braved breakfast and his parents' disappointment, but he desperately did not want to deal with that so early in the morning.

He's grumpy from lack of caffeine and food by the time he tumbles into the coffee shop, but he can't help his mouth from curving upwards when he sees Dan behind the counter. They're handling a customer, but their face lights up when they make eye contact with him, like they thought he wouldn't show. Phil gives them a little wave and drops his stuff on an armchair by the cozy fireplace. He's planning on being here for a while, he might as well stake his claim on the good seat now.

The fact that the chair has an unobstructed view of the counter isn't on purpose, but Phil can't pretend he isn't happy about it. He takes his jacket and scarf off, waiting for the stranger to go away so he doesn't have to hem and haw over his breakfast choice with an audience.

Phil should probably be using this time to look at the drinks on the chalkboard menu or the fresh pastries in the case, but he's too distracted.

It's been a day. A single day. Less, even, since it hasn't been a full 24 hours. And yet his eyes keep drifting back to Dan like it's been ages since he's seen them. Their eyes are lined thickly with what looks like black ink and their lips are shiny, but their face is otherwise bare. Phil wouldn't be able to clock the lack of makeup at all if he hadn't woken up beside Dan's clean face and accidentally memorized it.

Finally, the customer leaves, and Phil is free to approach the bar without feeling like an idiot. He gives Dan a sheepish sort of grin as he sidles up, only now looking at his options.

"Morning," says Dan, in that vaguely cheerful customer service voice. They push their sleeves up to their elbows like they need to be doing something with their hands, and Phil gets distracted again by the new shade on their nails and the shape of their forearms. "What can I get you?"

"Uh," Phil says eloquently. "Coffee. And food?"

Dan's smile twists into a smirk and they look like they're barely holding back laughter. "Funnily enough, we do those things here. Do you know what kind of, uh, coffee and food you want?"

It takes all of Phil's self control not to flip Dan off or tease them right back. He wouldn't bother holding back, normally, but there's a man with a 'manager' nametag working the espresso machine and the last thing he wants is to get Dan in trouble. Phil turns his attention to the menu again. He's retaining just as much nothing as he was before. "Uh," he says again. After a moment of thought that lasts far too long, Phil ends up shrugging. "Surprise me?"

"Sure," says Dan. Their eyes are sparkling, and Phil finds that just as hard to look away from as the glitter that had been on their face before.

"I'm kinda lactose intolerant," Phil informs them, just for something to say that he doesn't have to think too hard about. "And I like sugar. Like a lot."

"I can work with that." Dan shoos him away with their big hands, still smirking. "Go on, go sit down. If we get busy back here I'll call for you, but I can probably just bring it over."

Phil glances at the manager. "You sure?"

Dan follows his gaze, brow furrowed in slight confusion, and then rolls their eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Gabe doesn't give a shit if we talk to our friends as long as we get our work done. Right, Gabe?"

"Whatever," Gabe says, almost monotone in how little he seems to care.

"It's fine," says Dan. "Go. Sit."

Phil doesn't have much of a choice but to go take up camp by the fireplace. He takes out his phone and checks in with his friends to make sure they got home alright and to subtly see if any of them are mad at him. He doesn't like the idea of them feeling like the whole weekend was a bust - even if it kind of was - and he likes the idea of them being irritated with him even less. He's having enough trouble with the reality of his parents being unhappy with his choices.

The last thing he needs is for the other important people in his life to be feeling the same way. He fields PJ's concern and Chris' flirting and Sophie's helpful links to sleep paralysis theories with relative ease. He doesn't care about his own problems with the Wilkins place or the situation he's put himself in as much as he cares about what his best friends think.

The fact of the matter is, Phil knows he can't do this forever. He doesn't need his parents telling him that. He likes what he does, more often than not, but it's getting harder and harder to keep pushing himself into a routine that he might have outgrown by now.

He has so many ideas. There are so many stories he wants to tell and far too many different ways he could be telling them. He wonders if he keeps going back to other peoples' ghost stories because it's easier, safer, than putting innermost parts of himself out there for public consumption. Luckily, his friends aren't pushing him yet. He imagines it's only a matter of time before they notice that he's just going through the motions.

Even so, he doesn't like hearing things from his parents about his wasted potential. He doesn't need them to say what he's already thinking about all the time.

"Hey, you still on Earth?"

Phil starts a bit and almost drops his phone. Dan is standing there, setting a steaming mug and a cinnamon roll on the rickety end table at Phil's elbow. They smile at him and he smiles back, just a little embarrassed about zoning out so drastically.

"Sorry," he says, immediately reaching for the mug. "Haven't had coffee yet."

"What a tragedy," says Dan.

"It is," Phil insists. He takes a big gulp of the drink, ignoring Dan's protests that it's too hot. The mix of chocolate and cocoa hit his tongue and probably scald it, but Phil isn't about to start waiting for his drinks to cool down now. He hums happily and fits both hands around the mug to leech its warmth. "Oh, this is good."

He doesn't think he's imagining how pleased Dan looks by the compliment, but he manages to half convince himself that they're just proud of their barista-ing skills.

"Thanks," Dan says happily. They shift their weight from one foot to the other and pull their sleeves back down. Phil wonders if they're actually getting warm and then cold again, or if they just don't know how to act when their hands aren't busy with something. Phil notices that the shop is more or less dead - there's a trio of students with earphones in and textbooks open by the window and Gabe obviously continues to exist behind the counter, but it's not at all the same vibe as spending a late morning in a Brighton Starbucks. Phil has done that many times, and all it ever manages to do is make his anxiety worse.

He doesn't feel like that here, like he's taking up space and not moving fast enough. He feels like he's allowed to loiter here as long as he wants to, as long as he keeps buying coffee and doesn't distract Dan too much. It's nice.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" Phil asks.

Dan's cheeks flush a bit, more obvious without the glitter and skin-like paste - Sophie might have called it foundation, once, but Phil thinks that's probably a house term and not a face term and he hadn't actually been listening closely.

"Well, yeah," they say with a tiny shrug. "I can only sit down for a bit at a time until my breaks, but Gabe doesn't care if I hang out over here. I just gotta look busy."

"Okay," says Phil. He waits for another couple of seconds before he gently adds, "You don't look busy."

Something in Phil's stomach twists when Dan blushes deeper and starts pretending to organize the trinkets on the mantle. He wonders how much of Dan's insistence on moving around is because of where they are and how much of it is their inability to sit still. It's unfortunate how cute Phil finds them. He really shouldn't.

He decides to put off this line of thought, again, because he's got a cinnamon roll and an unfortunately-cute person to focus on. He's not going to think about how many times he's already procrastinated this budding crush. He eats and drinks and makes idle comments about where certain things should be and generally winds Dan up a bit. They only manage to sit still for a couple minutes at a time, even though they need to help a total of customers twice more before Phil needs a refill.

The drink Dan brings over this time is a different colour than the mocha, and Phil sniffs at it suspiciously before taking a sip. He was raised well, so he doesn't spit it out, but it's a close call. Dan seems to see something on his face, because they throw back their head and cackle a bit.

"Okay, not a dark roast guy," they tease, reaching for the mug like they intend to give Phil something else entirely. Phil pulls it out of their reach and shakes his head.

"No, hey, I'll drink it," he huffs. "Just point me to the sugar. I need a gallon of it."

Phil doesn't actually get much opportunity to talk to Dan in the handful of hours he sits around the coffee shop, but that doesn't surprise him very much. He gets comfortable with his laptop, legs tucked up under him in increasingly pretzel-like ways, and passes the time by editing the footage they do have. It isn't much, and that almost frustrates him enough to walk out and get the soonest train south, but every time he reaches that point, Dan is there with their big smile and another experimental drink in hand.

He's never really considered himself picky when it comes to hot drinks, since he likes his coffee instant and his tea weak, but Dan is quickly changing his mind about that. Most of the things Dan brings him are gross or just not something Phil would ever voluntarily order again, and Phil starts to think that he's probably the problem here.

"No more," Phil whines when he sees Dan making another mug of something indistinguishable.

The students in the corner have left, although Phil can't remember when, and Gabe is in the back doing... something, so he doesn't feel self-conscious talking across the small shop. At this point in the day, it's just him and Dan.

Dan laughs loudly and shakes their head. "This is for me, you big baby," they say. "My shift is done. I figured I could have a drink, if that's quite alright with you."

"I suppose that's fine," Phil grins. He saves all his work and shuts down his laptop, stretching his legs out for the first time in ages. He's gotten up to pee enough times that Dan probably thinks there's something wrong with him, but he's been in a bit of a research vortex. "Thanks. For, y'know, letting me come hang out here."

"Sure, anytime," Dan says. They sound sincere about it, not like they're just saying so.

"What do I owe you?" Phil asks, digging around in his bag for his wallet. He doesn't have all his equipment with him or anything, but his laptop bag is still cluttered with a bunch of nonsense he doesn't actually need to carry around.

Dan rattles off a number that doesn't sound correct at all, so Phil adds another bill to the pile before heading to the counter. Dan opens their mouth like they're going to protest. Phil isn't exactly in the mood to argue, so he just walks back to his chair without a word. He hears a loud, exasperated sort of sigh behind him, but then the sound of the cash drawer opening. Dan ducks into the back room for a couple of minutes and when they come back they're out of uniform and holding a travel mug with Pokémon all over it.

They're dressed more comfortably than Phil has seen them before. A dark hoodie that's clearly a couple sizes too big is hanging off their frame, falling somewhere around their thighs. It's a different shade of black than their leggings, but Phil doesn't think it matters to them. Their curls are a bit ruffled from being under a cap - still looking as soft as Phil remembers, though.

"Hi," Dan says, grinning a bit hesitantly as they sit in the armchair across from Phil. They hold their travel mug close to their face like it's a shield, but it's no use. Phil already saw the pink tinge of their cheeks and won't be fooled into thinking it's from the heat.

"Hey," Phil says, resisting the urge to hide his own smile behind his hand. "That hoodie looks so comfy."

Dan looks down, as if they'd already forgotten what they threw on. "Oh, yeah, it really is. I basically need pyjamas for this lecture or I'll be grouchy all day."

"What class was it?" Phil asks. He realises that he doesn't actually know what Dan is studying. Then his brain tumbles further down that rabbithole, because there's a lot he doesn't actually know about Dan. They've spent so much of their new friendship just talking about Phil's job and all the nonsense that comes with it.

"Human Impacts on the Biosphere," Dan says with a wry smile, like they know exactly how little Phil knows about the topic.

"You're studying biology?" Phil asks. Dan shakes their head, but they don't laugh or anything like Phil's question is a stupid one. He feels like it probably was.

"Environmental science," Dan corrects him. "But it's a biology class, so you're not far off."

"That's really cool," Phil says sincerely.

Dan blinks a few times in quick succession, and the fluttering of their long lashes is hypnotizing. They seem surprised that Phil is taking an interest, or maybe that Phil finds science cool. He doesn't know anything about it, really, but that's never stopped him from being interested in a topic. Especially when someone who actually knows what they're talking about is walking him through it - like Sophie with her experiments or PJ with his junkyard sculptures. Phil doesn't have to have a working knowledge of something to enjoy talking about it.

"Really?" Dan says, that familiar skepticism behind their sparkling eyes.

"Save the planet and all that, right?" Phil guesses. He must have guessed right, because Dan gives him a smile brighter than the fire beside them. "Yeah, I don't know much about it, but it sounds cool. What year are you in?"

"Third year, ready to be done with it."

Phil remembers what that was like. He also remembers all over again that Dan is twenty-one, like the fact had been simmering just under the surface until now. It isn't that Phil is drastically older than them or anything - more like he's nostalgic for an age he didn't even like all that much when he was experiencing it.

Things were their own kind of screwed up in Phil's third year of uni, but at least he still had... hope. Hope that his parents would come around to the hobby that was slowly starting to make him money, hope that he'd find a guy who liked his particular brand of weirdness, hope that he'd be able to do something with his life that he enjoyed. One by one, those hopes started to feel further and further away until he was here, turning twenty-six in two months and with nothing but a moderate-to-severe anxiety disorder and a couple thousand quid in his savings to show for it. He never even found a guy who'd put up with him for longer than two dates. He wonders what sort of hopes Dan has right now. He tries not to wonder how long it's going to be before they, too, start to feel like it's useless.

"Are you okay?"

Phil shakes himself out of his own thoughts, meeting Dan's eyes again. They're so warm and lovely that Phil feels a bit better just looking at them.

"Yeah," he lies, starting to pack up his stuff. "Just hungry, y'know. Teatime."

"Oh, right," says Dan. They look a bit startled, but whether that's from Phil's abruptness or the time of day, Phil has no way of knowing. "That makes sense. Want me to walk you to the bus stop?"

That sounds nice. Then Phil remembers what's waiting for him at the other end of the bus ride, and he shakes his head. "No, uh. I was thinking about getting dinner in town." He looks down so he doesn't have to see whatever Dan's expression does when he adds, "And I'd love company, if you... want."

"Do I want to have dinner with you?" Dan repeats, like they aren't quite sure if that's what Phil actually said. Before Phil can answer, though, they're already talking again. "Obviously, yes. There's a great sushi place down the street if you like sushi, and if you don't like sushi there's other good restaurants all over the place, like there's -"

"I love sushi," Phil interrupts before Dan settles into yet another ramble. He's too nervous to look Dan in the eye again, even with the positive reaction. "Let's go. My treat."

#it is wednesday my dudes #we're back on a schedule babeyyyyy #quiet on widow's peak #words words words

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queertazsecretsanta · 4 years

Text

A gift for @gravitaz, created by @dork-empress!

“GREETINGS NEWTON FAMILY!” Minerva announced, flinging the door open.

“Honey!” Duck said, clutching his hat to catch up from where he was running up the driveway, “I told you to KNOCK!”

“I did!” Minerva said, “and the door did not open, and so I decided to help it along!” She smiled at him, outshining the sun. Or so it seemed to Duck anyway.

“You are welcome to rob us.” A girl said from the stairs, “Start with Duck’s old dolls--oh, sorry ‘’’action figures.’’’’”

Duck rolled his eyes, and pulled the girl, his sister Jane, into a half-hug, which quickly turned into more of a half-nelson. “Missed you too, Gremlin.”

“Augh!!!” she yelled, flailing like they were kids again, “Abuse! Abuse! Child abuse!”

“Oh please,” Duck said, “You’re not a kid anymore, you can’t use that excuse.”

Jane grumbled. “That’s right!” she said in challenge, “I can fight back!” Jane darted her hands out to tickle Duck’s stomach instead, getting him to let go. “Ha! Jane Newton, Still the Undefeated champion!!”

“Most impressive!” Minerva said, still standing in the doorway and somehow not looking awkward, “Wayne Newton is a most formidable warrior.”

Jane raised her eyebrows. “Wayne, huh?”

Duck scowled at his sister, “Let it go Janey.”

“I also wish to inform you, Jane Newton,” Minerva continued, “That I have no intention of robbing your house, even Wayne Newton’s action figures.”

Jane smiled, “Oh, I like this one, Ducky.”

“Nope,” Duck said, shaking his head, “we’re not doing that.”

Jane ignored him and held out her hand to Minerva, “Pleased to meet you in person, Minerva.”

Minerva beamed again. “You as well, Jane Newton. I wonder, are you what people call, ‘a hugger?’”

Duck could see three whole jokes pass through Jane’s head that she swallowed down. “Yes, I most certainly am--”

Minerva swooped Jane up into one of her classic bone-crushing hugs. Jane groaned as the air left her lungs, while Duck snickered at her pain. He’s been there, though he didn’t regret it. “Alright, honey, let her breathe.”

Minerva let Jane down, who staggered back. “Well. Damn,” Jane said, blinking at the hug.

Minerva paused, “I hope I was not too forceful, Jane Newton. I’ve learned to ask permission first, but I have been told I have trouble holding in my incredible strength.”

Jane whistled. “Oh, I’m fine. Just fine,” she said, biting her lip.

“Hey,” Duck shooed her into the house, “My girlfriend, you can’t have her. Stop it.”

Jane chuckled, walking into the hallway, and letting Duck and Minerva properly enter. Duck took off his shoes, Minerva mimicking him. “Forgive me for stalling out here. I was just trying to save you, Mom’s on the warpath, and--”

“Wayne?” they heard a call from the kitchen, “Is that you Wayne?”

Duck sighed, “Hi Mom,” he said, “Minerva’s here too.”

“Excellent, come in here and set the table!” His mother called.

Duck sighed, taking Minerva’s hand and leading her to the kitchen.

His mother was bouncing about from counter to counter, preparing at least 3 dishes at once. On sight of her son, she thrust a stack of napkins into his hands. “Good to see you too, Mom.”

She doubled back to kiss him on the cheek before dropping her phone onto the pile of napkins. “I’ve pulled up a video on how to fold them, follow it as closely as you can. Jane, check on the vegetables while I mind the turkey, and--oh goodness.” She had finally taken in Minerva. “Oh my deary, you’re much taller than you looked on Skype.”

Minerva took it in stride. “Yes, I am very tall in comparison to most hu--women.” she stopped herself from saying humans, and Duck could only hope his mother and sister overlooked it. “Some people have become intimidated, I’ve noticed, but do not fear. I am here only for peace.”

Mrs. Newton’s face lit up. “Fear? Oh goodness no, deary. You’re perfect. Can you get the platters I’ve put on the top shelf there? I don’t fully trust my step stool, it’s rather old.”

“Certainly!” Minerva said, easily reaching up to grab it.

Duck smiled, taking the napkins into the dining room. He didn’t know why he worried. He should have known his family would take to Minerva just the same as he did.

He was still folding the first napkin by the time Minerva came in with a beautifully plated asparagus, complete with drizzles of sauce. “Are you having trouble, Wayne Newton?” Minerva asked.

Duck sighed, “Sorry ‘bout my mom,” he said, “She tends to go all out, and goes a bit overboard in my opinion. I mean, this is a bit much for a simple Candlenights.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Minerva said, “I don’t really know much about your human traditions. What is Candlenights, anyway?”

“A trademark of Big Head Productions LLC,” Duck answered easily. Minerva blinked, as she did when she was trying to figure out if something was a joke or not. “Look, back when she left my dad, Mom had this huge falling out with her church, and felt...weird celebrating Christmas. So we celebrate this like, secular version that’s on this podcast she likes and connects a bunch of different holidays together. Hence the menorah,” he said, nodding at the candle that served as a centerpiece, “And the Thanksgiving turkey and New Years Eve poppers….its just a whole grab bag of winter holidays.”

Minerva nodded, “A brave thing to do, to leave a culture behind that had wronged her, and to start something fresh and new.”

Duck smiled, “‘Brave’ is a...nice way of describing mom,” he said, “She’s a character, for sure. Always liked to do things her own way. It’s funny, when I came out---” he stopped himself, reminding himself he hadn’t actually super had this conversation with his girlfriend yet. Most people already knew once they’d known him long enough, but Minerva didn’t know a lot of human culture or societal norms or...anything.

“Came out of what?” Minerva asked, the only indication of how long he had stopped talking.

Duck took a breath, and summoned her over to his mother’s picture wall. There were two that were further back than a few years ago, the first of him when he was a baby….and the second of him with Jane when she was a baby. Except he had little pigtails and a yellow dress he’d hated wearing even that far back. “So, this is me,” he pointed at the young child holding up baby Jane. “Or...was me.” She frowned at him, not understanding the significance. “Ho boy, where to start. Um, so, when I was born….people thought I was a girl,” he winced, unsure how to explain western gender standards to an alien. Minerva always referred to herself as she, but he was unsure if that was a translation thing, or if her planet had the same gender norms or what.

“Why did they think that?” Minerva asked, innocently.

“I just…” Duck said, “Sometimes...that happens. People use the markers they have available before kids are old enough to really know themselves, and then...if they got it wrong, then those people---me---are called Trans. Like, transitioning. I’m a trans man.” She nodded. “But uh. Anyway. The point is, when they do the telling, it’s called ‘coming out.’ And...some parents don’t react well to it.” He smirked, “Not Mom though. She was ready to go toe-to-toe to anyone who gave me trouble about it. Gave me the name ‘Wayne’ too….that was quite the ordeal.”

He frowned, but wasn’t seriously annoyed at the memories of Mrs. Newton being fine with helping to change the gender marker on his ID, but refusing to let him legally change his name to ‘Duck.’ in fairness, he was happy with just having Duck be a nickname now. Wayne Newton was something he and his mother bonded over, so it worked out well, a symbol for just the family.

“Then she is an honorable woman,” Minerva said, getting Duck to smile wider, “and a worthy commander, I must go and help with preparing more dishes to be served. Are you sure you don’t need help with the napkins?”

Duck sighed, mood souring as he turned back to the cloth that refused to fold like in the video. “Give me one more chance before I call it forfeit,” he said. She frowned again, trying to figure out if it was a joke. “I’ll be fine,” he told her, quickly jumping to his toes to kiss her on the cheek, “Go help, before she declares you AWOL.”

Minerva smiled, recognizing that one for a joke. She gave a salute, “Yes, sir!” she said, before marching back into the kitchen.

Duck smiled, watching after her. He gave one last look to the photo on the wall, the only one of him pre-social transition his mom kept up. Even that had come with a long discussion, but Duck wasn’t ashamed of being trans, and besides, the first pictures of Baby Jane were important.

As he heard footsteps, though, he turned his attention back to the napkins. How in the hell was he supposed to just make it look like a swan?!

#dork-empress #gravitaz #queercandlenights #taz #the adventure zone #duck #minerva #minewton #duck x minerva #fic

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basically-i-write-shit · 5 years

Text

Mama’s home for star-crossed lovers

Mama’s large home in the woods just outside of Kepler, West Virginia, is a safe-haven for the outcasts-- damaged, broken, and scared. Dani’s no stranger to any of those things, but Mama’s house is safe. Then Aubrey Little shows up with a different situation than usual, and she’s just Dani’s type. Only thing is, Dani is really bad at talking to girls unless they’re behind a screen.

Aka an internet friends that the author took liberties with, ignoring the fact that Kepler’s in the radio silence zone.

TW for minor mentions abuse/homophobia/transphobia but it’s like veeeery minor

AO3 link

Mama’s large home in the woods just outside of Kepler, West Virginia, is a safe-haven for the outcasts-- damaged, broken, and scared. She’d inherited the property when her grandparents had died, and immediately she did the first thing that would piss those old fucks off: started housing the trans kids in town that had been sleeping on benches behind the high school. The house was large, though, and she had room even after putting up the first few kids, and so she expanded to just...anyone that needed it.

The people changed frequently, especially when she puts an ad online that her home is “a safehaven for queer and other oppressed folks.”

All of her visitors commend Mama on her endeavors, tell her how much they needed the love and acceptance -- especially in West Virginia -- but they never stay longer than they have to. More often than not, they’re just waiting for friends in other states to get their affairs in order to move. There are exceptions, though.

Exceptions like Dani.

Dani, while not one of the first, is one of the longest stays at Mama’s house; she's been living and working in Kepler for a little over five years, now, in one of Mama’s spare rooms. She tries every paycheck to pay rent, but Mama refuses it most of the time so Dani does chores around the house to help out and slips money in Mama’s desk when she’s not home.

There are others, too; Barclay’s been here for ten years, and Jake for four; they stay on the boys’ floor on the ground level. Dani’s the only one on the girls’ floor that’s stayed longer than a few months, other than Moira, but Moira’s just moved out after seven years of staying with Mama. They get visitors, old and new, often, and so Dani isn’t lonely or bored often, which is why Dani should be nonplussed when she comes home from work to see Mama showing a new person around the main floor of the house.

Should be.

But this girl is so fucking pretty.

“Dani! You’re the only girl on the floor right now, so introductions’ll be pretty short ‘n quick. This is Aubrey Little, met ‘er while I was out deliverin’ a piece outta town. She’ll be stayin’ with us for a while. Mind--” The landline rings and Mama answers it; there’s a few moments of hushed conversation, then she curses, turning to apologize to Aubrey before rushing out the door cursing Ned Chicane’s name.

There’s an awkward silence, and Dani thinks maybe she’s supposed to talk to Aubrey.

Only thing it, Dani doesn’t know what more to say than, “Hey.”

“Uh- Hi- Hello, hi. I’m-- Aubrey.” Aubrey shifts a bag in a gloved hand and offers the other to shake, which Dani does-- though she almost melts at the warmth spreading up her body as a flush wraps its way up her neck and cheeks. “Man, you have no idea how happy I am that I found Mama’s ad!”

Dani smiles to be kind, looking for any reason she can to keep talking to this girl but she can’t really keep her eyes on her for too long without getting flustered. “I mean, aren’t we all? Mama’s wonderful.”

“Right.”

There’s an awkward silence, and Aubrey shifts her bag awkwardly and Dani’s eyes widen.

“Oh-- Oh My god, I’m probably supposed to show you to your room, huh? Sorry.”

“Mama was going to, but then she,,,the whole...”

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that. Nothing you need to worry about, I don’t think.” Dani goes into Mama’s office and grabs a key for one of the empty rooms on the second floor from the box, handing it to Aubrey. Her cheeks burn when their fingers brush. “It’s kinda like dorms here, so you get a key-- not that you’ll need it though. No one steals stuff or anything! Just-- for safety.”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds fair.” Aubrey laughs and slips the key into her pocket as she follows Dani up to the second floor. She looks amazed at how big the place is, and Dani smiles; it’s pretty usual of new guests to be surprised at the eight bedroom home. The look on her face is kind of adorable.

They get to the bedroom and stand in the doorway awkwardly a moment.

“Dinner’s whenever Barclay yells, shouldn’t be too long though.”

“Alrighty! Thanks again, Dani. I appreciate it.”

Dani smiles. “Hey, no problem. If you need anything, I’m across the hall.”

Aubrey nods, disappears into the room, and Dani steps into her own. Head thunking onto the wood of the door, she sighs. She’s really fucked.

Aubrey Little is definitely Dani’s type, and she seems to have a good personality, but Dani has reservations about dating anyone that comes to stay with Mama. She knows what it’s like to feel hopeless, and then to suddenly feel loved and safe here-- she doesn’t want to ruin that for anybody. There have been people that have come through that she’s had the chance at flings with, but she’s practiced self-restraint. It’s not too hard, seeing as they all leave sometime or another.

And Dani hasn’t even held hands with a girl in the six years since she came out, which almost hurts more than anything. Her parents didn’t want her, and she still hasn’t been able to get into a relationship anyway. Sometimes it feels like it’s all for nothing, but then she has dinner with Barclay and Mama and all of the other guests, and she remembers how much happier she is living without the pain of being in the closet.

So even though she’s kind of lonely, it’s fine. She’s fine. She just-- She’s fine.

Barclay’s call for dinner startles Dani from her reverie and she ducks into the bathroom in the hall to wash her hands before heading downstairs. As she turns down the hall to the kitchen, she sees Aubrey’s firey hair at the top of the stairs and she speeds up a bit.

“What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread, even though I know you won’t eat any of the bread.” Dani rolls her eyes. Garlic is gross. “Meatballs and noodles gotta be kept sperate, new girl’s vegetarian.”

“Sounds good. Where’s Jake tonight?”

“Hell if I know. He said he was going to the Hornet’s nest before he left, but they’re always all over town. I told him be back but he’ll probably eat there tonight.”

Dani hums as she grabs plates and sets four places at the table as Mama and Aubrey enter. Dani grabs two more plates when she sees Duck Newton and Ned Chicane following behind them.

“Ned, Duck! What trouble’d you get in that Mama had t’ run off so fast, huh?”

“Now that’s top secret, friend Dani!” Ned boasts. He sits in his usual spot, Duck plopping down next to him after washing his hands, and it’s hard to miss how dirty the trio are.

Duck grunts, scooping a hearty amount of pasta and meatballs onto his plate. “Ned crashed his Lincoln into the shed out back trying to run from sheriff Owens.”

“Bastard ruined my latest sculpture, now I gotta rebuild the damn shed and then start over.” Mama growls, glaring over at him. “I might’s well change my ad to ‘fugitives welcome too’ at this point.”

“Hey, now--!”

Aubrey snickers, falling into one of the empty seats once everyone’s sat in their own spots, and that's kinda weird but no one says anything. Dinner starts. Throughout the meal, Dani can’t help but stare a bit. Aubrey’s energy is absolutely addictive, and it’s hard not to smile with her. Duck finishes first, and is quick to duck out-- saying he needs to feed his cat, but he’s probably running off to go to sleep. After that, Barclay finishes but stays at the table to chat. Mama and Ned finish some time after Dani, and disappear into the office to talk about what they’ll do about the shed.

“Wow, Barclay, that was so good! You do a lot of cooking here?”

“Yeah, most of it really, unless Dani or the others wanna give me a break.” Barclay laughs, smiling. “I like cooking, though, so that doesn’t happen a lot.”

“Well you’re damn good at it! Need any help cleaning up?”

“It’s actually my night to wash dishes tonight, but it should be pretty easy to clean up so you just go on ahead.” Dani pipes up, standing. Aubrey shakes her head, scrambling up as well.

“I can help! I really don’t mind.”

Dani smiles. “Alright. Let’s get to work then.” Dani stacks up the plates, and Aubrey helps carry the pots and pans to the sink. Since Dani knows where the dishes are, she puts the leftovers in a Tupperware each for those that work so they can take some to lunch tomorrow. Aubrey fills the sink for the pots and then they work together to load the plates and cups into the dishwasher.

“So, uh-- what’re you in for?” Aubrey asks causally, only to cringe and chake her head quickly. “Yeah, no, uh-- sorry. Sorry! That’s a stupid, prying question. Sorry.”

Aubrey laughs and leans against the counter with a smile, watching Dani wash the pots out. “It’s alright. I mean, it’s pretty obvious, but uh...parents didn’t want me ‘cause I like girls. I wandered around about year until I met Mama and I’ve been here since.”

Aubrey nods sadly, humming.

“Man, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, it’s-- It’s long forgotten.” Dani shrugs, reassuring Aubrey that it’s fine because she looks guilty still. “What about you? If it’s not too personal.”

Aubrey shoots a grin at Dani, winking at her. “I’m on the run, babe.”

Dani’s cheeks burn and she her eyebrows shoot up, amused. “O- Oh?”

“My parents...weren’t not accepting, but they kinda ignored it, y’know? And then mom died, and my dad got all protective and shit. Wouldn’t let me go out anywhere even though I’m a grown ass woman; so when I wanted to start a magic act, he wasn’t having it.” Aubrey snaps her gloved fingers, and little sparks fly from her hands, and oh god Dani’s really fucked--

“Anyway, long story short I ran away and dad has a missing person’s report out on me. I’m trying to find a lawyer or something to contact him to get it taken down, ‘cause I know if I go home I might be stuck there for a while, but I can’t afford it right now. Mama’s a literal lifesaver.”

“That sounds...stressful. If my parents ever came looking for me, I don’t know what I’d do.” Dani says.

“Well I’d hope you wouldn’t go with them. They sound like dicks, for not accepting you-- no offence to you, of course.”

“None taken. I get it. I-- I’d like to say that I wouldn’t, but I don’t know.”

Aubrey gives a comforting smile, and Dani looks away quickly.

They finish the pots and set them out to dry, Aubrey cracking jokes every now and then, and it’s domestic in a way Dani is used to yet this is so new and scary she doesn’t know how to process. Afterwards, they go their separate ways, and Dani collapses onto the couch next to Barclay, who snorts.

“Someone’s got a cru- u- ush.”

“Shut up, you haven’t gotten laid in at least five years!”

“Neither have you.”

“...Touché.”

Dani does her best to avoid Aubrey the best she can; as it turns out, Aubrey is going to be here a while earning the cash for her lawyers, and so she’s going to be staying with them for a while. Aubrey makes quick friends with Ned and Duck, so when she isn’t at work, she’s with them. It’s a brief reprieve for Dani’s weak gay heart.

Ding!

The-Lady-Flame: You alright? Been a couple days since you messaged last.

Dani smiles at the message, settling into the couch after dinner one night. Jake is on dishes duty, having actually joined them for dinner once, and he’s got some punk music or something playing in the kitchen. Dani thinks, idly, that her friend would like this music. The lady flame, aka Sparks, is one of her oldest friends even if they’ve never met in person; they met on Tumblr about four years ago when Dani started following wlw accounts and found a punk/prep aesthetic blog that she fell in love with almost immediately. She and Sparks became best friends rather quickly, and even though Dani doesn’t use tumblr much anymore they message regularly on discord.

Vamp-2-amp: Yeah, no, I’m cool. Been busy is all.

Vamp-2-amp: You?

Sparks takes a while to respond. Dani jumps a mile in the air when Aubrey yells from the other room (”Jake I love this band!”), but relaxes quickly when she figures out what the yelling’s about. She can’t help but smile as Aubrey starts dancing around the kitchen with Jake.

After a few minutes, though, after everything’s calmed down, Dani’s phone dings again with a response.

The-Lady-Flame: Good! Settling in with the new housemates.

Vamp-2-amp: That’s great! Totally forgot you were looking for a place.

Vamp-2-amp: I met a pretty girl a couple weeks ago and I’m so gay you have no idea like I’m such a useless gay

The-Lady-Flame: Oh? Go on?

Dani continues talking about her crush on Aubrey for a while, Sparks chiming in every now and then, before conversation shifts to life in general.

“Who ya talkin’ to?”

Dani locks her phone, blushing like mad, as Aubrey plops onto the couch next to her. “Nobody!”

Aubrey laughs, leaning against Dani’s shoulder. “No need to keep secrets from me, Dani~ Talking to a girl?”

“M- Maybe,” She says, and well it’s not a lie. She’s been friends with Sparks for years, and Sparks is a girl, but it’s not like talking talking like Aubrey’s implying. Well-- okay, no, Sparks doesn’t see her like that although Dani wouldn’t mind if she did.

“That’s exciting. Girls are-- oh, boy, girls are. Nice.” Aubrey smiles like a dork, and Dani hides her face in her hands. “Hey! So, uh-- I ran into Duck today, and he told me a place to get some good soup?.. I hate cold weather, and some soup sounds really good. Would you wanna-- Would you wanna go check it out with me?..”

And if Dani wasn’t totally flustered before, with Aubrey leaning on her, she’s a mess now. She tries to act cool though. “Oh, that place? Duck’s taken all of us at some point, anything to get his hands on that French onion. I'm not exactly a fan, myself.”

“Oh. Oh, alright!” Aubrey’s face falls a bit, and she shrinks back, dejected. It takes Dani a moment to register that maybe she should’ve said yes even though she doesn’t like the place. “So I should ask Duck to go instead? Sounds good, thanks Dani!”

Aubrey hops up quickly, waving, and then she’s gone.

“W- Wait-- fuck-- damn it.”

Dani sighs, slumping back against the couch with a frown. She didn’t mean to make Aubrey feel bad. Damn it.

Vamp-2-amp: Oh man I think I accidentally just rejected pretty girl???

The-Lady-Flame: OOF rip, one of my housemates just kinda blew me off too so ig we’re in the same boat with bad communication skills huh?

Vamp-2-amp: RIP babe that sucks

The-Lady-Flame: Babe?

Vamp-2-amp: I’m trying something new ;)

The-Lady-Flame: ...I like that

Vamp-2-amp: Yeah? I’ll have to call you that more then ;)

A boom from upstairs startles her, and then Aubrey’s voice calls “Sorry! Sorry, that was me-- dropped something! I’m fine!”

Some time nearing Christmas, Indrid Cold moves back into Mama’s house for the winter and parks his Winnebago out back. They don’t follow traditional Christmas festivities, though there is a pile of presents in the corner of the living room and nights are spent together more, laughing and playing games or watching movies, or simply just talking. Aubrey, despite her saving up, has bought everyone staying in the house a present and wrapped them up (messily, but wrapped nonetheless). Dani has one for everyone except Aubrey, though not because she doesn’t want to give her one-- she just doesn’t know what to get her.

What do you get for a girl you’re trying to avoid so you don’t kiss her?

Ned’s laughter booms through the room, and Dani’s startled from her thoughts. She decides that she has a month to go yet.

”Aubrey, your daddy’s kinda a dick, huh?”

Aubrey had just gotten done telling them about her latest string of emails and facebook messenger calls from her father begging her to come home. She gives a tired chuckle, setting her mug of cocoa down on the coffee table. After a glare from Barclay she moves a coaster under it.

“Yeah, I mean, a little bit. He doesn’t mean anything bad, but this whole missing person thing sucks. I’ve been through like two or three different states trying to get away from it! I just wanna live normal and, like, get a real job.”

“What would you do if you could do whatever you want, Aubrey?”

Aubrey hums, thinking. “I’ve always wanted to have a magic troupe, obviously, but...I like Kepler. I dunno what I’d do just yet. I can’t really think about that right now anyway.”

“But everything is gonna get better soon. Don’t worry about it.” Mama says, patting Aubrey’s shoulder.

“You’ll be able to hire a lawyer soon, right?”

“You seem pretty invested in Aubrey’s plans, Ned Chicane,” Indrid says, suspicious, and yeah he’s been asking her a lot of questions tonight. Ned laughs nervously.

“I have no ill intentions with my dear friend Aubrey, friend Indrid. I’m just worried for her wellbeing, as we all are. I want to see her succeed.”

“Well, Ned, if Mama’ll have me, I’d like to stay, so no need to worry too much about me.” Aubrey says, giving Mama a hopeful look, and Dani feels both a rush of excitement and a rush of panic wash over her at the idea of Aubrey staying. She’s going to have to spend more time living with her crush? Oh boy.

Mama smiles softly and nods, opening her mouth to speak when the phone rings. She steps out to answer it, only to come back a few minutes later with a grim face that breaks the light-hearted conversation.

“Barclay? You, uh-- Can you clean out a spare room? On the, uh-- Boy’s floor. We got a new one comin’ in about an hour, and uh-- this one’s-- this one’s bad.” Mama says, her voice shaking, and it suddenly hits Dani how much Mama’s seen in the twenty years she’s been doing this.There are cases that come into the house that put everyone down, but for it to make Mama upset it means that things are breaking bad. “I-- I need someone to go get Duck. I don’t got the time-- I-- I’ve got a bit of prep t’ do, this kid’s comin’ with nothin’ on him, gotta get to the store...Don’t know what we all need.”

The house goes into motion; Ned volunteers to run over to Duck’s house --which he quickly does upon getting the ok-- and Barclary and Jake start cleaning up one of the rooms, Mama grabbing her keys to run to the nearest open store.

“M- Mama! Is there anything I can do to help?..Anything you need?..”

“Shoot, Aubrey, I’m sorry this one’s taken care of. You an’ Dani an’ Indrid are free to go about y’er night, sorry to cut it short.”

“No problem, Mama...”

Then Mama’s gone, and the house is silent save for Barclay and Jake’s hushed conversation. Dani, still on the couch, stands. She can see some helpless anxiety building up in Aubrey, like she’s noticed it usually does when she’s rejected, and that won’t do. So even if Dani’s bad at talking to pretty girls, she needs to comfort Aubrey somehow.

“Why don’t we go on a walk, Aubrey? It’ll keep us outta the house for a bit.”

“B- But I wanna-- I wanna help, everyone else is...” Aubrey sounds frustrated. “Why can’t I help, Dani?”

“Mama has her reasons. You know her. This guy probably does need the quiet, and the house’ll probably be cleared out when he shows up.” Dani slowly leads Aubrey outside and into the woods near the house. She knows it’ll take a bit to reassure Aubrey that she’s not in trouble; Dani’s been doing research on ADHD since Aubrey isn’t shy about that aspect of her life, and read something about people with it being sensitive to rejection like the soup incident, or like right now.

“But-- But she’s bringing Duck here, so that can’t be true.”

Dani shakes her head, reaches out her hand to grab Aubrey’s.

Dani knows logically that if Duck is coming, their new guest is a trans man and so he’s coming over to give the “it gets better” talk but she doesn’t want to out their new guest without knowing, and let them tell everyone on their own.

“I can promise you, Aubrey, you’re not being kept out because you can’t help out. It’s just for the night. I’m sure tomorrow you’ll be able to goof around with the new guy,make him laugh for us. Laughter’s the best medicine.”

“I don’t wanna just goof, Dani, I wanna help!” Aubrey snaps, dropping her hand as she stops walking. Dani cringes.

“No, that’s not what I-- Aubrey, I didn’t mean it like that,” Dani says.

“Really? Because you avoid me enough I wouldn’t be surprised if all you thought of me was ‘haha fire girl is at it again’ right?”

“Wh-- No, of course not, Aubrey!”

“Then why don’t you like talking to me? Because I thought you were pretty cool but you keep brushing me off and I think that usually means you don’t want to spend time with someone.”

Aubrey looks frustrated, annoyed, and this is exactly what Dani didn’t want.

“Aubrey, I- I’ve been avoiding you because...you’re really fucking pretty, and I don’t want to fuck anything up when we still have to live in the same house. I’ve done it before, and it sucks.” Dani sits heavily on a fallen log, huffing, and she doesn’t hear Aubrey’s shocked gasp with how loud her heart is beating in her ears. She blinks, frustrated, and sees Aubrey in front of her.

“He-- Hey, Dani, that’s not-- there’s no need to think like that..! I-- You think I’m pretty?..”

“Y- Yes? Like, super fucking pretty? And funny, and kind, and I don’t want to do anything that would make it awkward, because Mama’s place is a safe place and I don’t wanna ruin it for you. For anyone that has to deal with the drama. I’m sorry, I didn’t--” Dani’s eyes widen as Aubrey launches herself at her, connecting their lips.

“Hey Dani? That’s-- That’s really nice, but I’m gonna need you to shut up and kiss me.”

The new visitor is, as Dani suspected, a trans man who’d just came out to his parents and needed a place to stay for a while; he’d been beat up pretty bad when he came in, and had no clothes on his back; Mama had set him up quickly, and it was a sad day when he went off with some friends a month later.

In that month he had looked to look into physical transition with Duck’s help, and left with the promise to visit Mama when he's sure he's stable. The tension between Aubrey and Dani had been mostly settled that night of Dani’s confession, but it’s still kind of awkward having a girlfriend.

A girlfriend. Man, that’s crazy. What was she so scared of even?

The-Lady-Flame: Yooo you’ll never believe the week I’ve had

Vamp-2-amp: Yeah? Same here, fam

The-Lady-Flame: One of my housemates almost blew up the house last night.

The-Lady-Flame: It wasn’t me this time!

Dani snorts, her head in Aubrey’s lap as they’re both on their phones on the couch. Dinner is in a few, and they’d both gotten back from work so there isn’t much to do until then but relax. It’s been a while since she’s caught up with Sparks, but it’s like nothing’s changed. The flirting’s calmed down quite a bit since they both recently got girlfriends, but it’s not like they were going anywhere in the first place.

Vamp-2-amp: Lmao I can’t believe

The-Lady-Flame: You’re so mean to me Vamp

Vamp-2-amp: You’re a hazard 2 society and you know it

Aubrey snorts above her like whatever she’s reading is funny, and she lays her head on the back of the couch with a chuckle. Barclay calls for dinner and Dani groans, burying her face deeper into Aubrey’s thighs.

The-Lady-Flame: I’m taking that as a compliment

The-Lady-Flame: Gotta go eat and then smooch my girl, night Vamp

Thinking it’s lucky coincidence that Sparks has to leave when she does, Dani sends off a quick goodbye and stands finally, pecking Aubrey on the lips as they head to the dinner table. Meatloaf tonight, with a lot of veggie sides instead for Aubrey.

Routine is easy to fall into. Dani finds it easy to include Aubrey in her routine, even after the first four months of her living with them being awkward and spent avoiding her; Aubrey gets home after Dani does, her day full of odd-jobs that she gets paid in cash with because she can’t open a bank account in Kepler without her dad finding her. Once Aubrey gets home, she showers and falls into bed, yelling across the Hall for Dani if Dani isn’t already curled up under all of Aubrey’s blankets, and they just...talk. They talk a lot. Dani about her job at the local nursery, how she’d gotten the gig with the help of forest ranger Duck Newton, the various instruments she plays, etc. Aubrey about her family, about her time on the run from them, about how she always wanted to start up a magic gig but not knowing how.

About everything. And Dani listens-- Dani could listen to Aubrey talk about anything, why didn’t she realize sooner? One time she listened to Aubrey go on a long rant about the texture of the paper towels the high school in town uses, because she does the cleaning there sometimes and it just tears right apart. At least let the cleaning crew use some good stuff, come on--

Most nights, Dani’s lulled to sleep by Aubrey’s voice. Sometimes Aubrey --or, she suspects, Aubrey has Mama-- carries her to her own room. Most of the time, Dani stays curled up in Aubrey’s bed, her girlfriend playing big spoon, and all is right.

It’s a nice routine.

Dani also has a routine when messaging Sparks. If they message at all, she always says goodnight at nine o’clock and then spends the rest of the night with her family. Some nights they have game night, sometimes they watch movies, it all depends on the night.

This particular night, Dani forgets to say goodnight until after they’re finished with a particularly long game of Monopoly, which ended with a victorious Barclay getting yelled at by the entire house. Duck and Minerva are over, Indrid visiting too, and Moira had even come to visit for Jake’s birthday. Everyone is settled into their rooms, Duck and Minerva heading home to his apartment and Indrid off to the RV park, and Aubrey is helping Barclay out so Dani opens discord and messages Spark with an apology for not seeing her last message. She hits send and Aubrey’s phone dings. Dani’s startled by the name that flashes on the discord notification.

It’s her name. Well--- her screenname.

Aubrey’s the lady flame?!

Aubrey returns to the bedroom, climbing into bed, but before Dani can mention it Mama’s yelling up the stairs for Aubrey sounding panicked.

All Dani and Aubrey have to do is make eye contact before they’re rushing downstairs, expecting something bad to have happened, or a new guest, but instead there’s Ned Chicane at the door, a strange man by his side.

“Mama, Ned, what’s up?”

The strange man clears his throat and steps forward to shake hands, but Mama steps between them and that pushes him back out the door. “Apologies for showing up so late at night, Miss Little. You see, my cab into town just arrived and I was instructed by my employer to seek you out immediately once I knew of your location.”

Dani’s heart stops in her chest, and she can feel Aubrey’s do the same as her girlfriend’s hand finds hers.

“O- Oh?” She asks, as if she doesn’t already know.

Aubrey’s father finally found her.

“I’m gonna kill Ned! He’s fucking dead!” Aubrey’s room is trashed now, the belongings she’d acquired in the ten months that she’s been living in Kepler strewn broken across the floor. Dani sits amongst it all, equally seething with rage. Just the day before she’d had a long talk with Ned about friendship, and then he pulls this. “He gives me up just to get out of trouble with that Boyd guy. Doesn’t he know it’s not just me in trouble here?!”

It’s true. Aubrey’s been given three days to pack her things and go back home with the P.I. that her father hired to find her, or the police would be sent to Mama’s house and Mama arrested for kidnapping. And if Mama were to get arrested, the entire house would fall into chaos. Moira’s fear of older authority figures doesn’t mix well with the police coming, and Barclay and Jake already aren’t in good standing with sheriff Owens. They’d surely fight the police for Mama -- as would Dani -- if she were to get arrested for doing the thing that she loves.

“This is all my fault. I-- I’m gonna have to go back...”

“You can’t! Aubrey, you’re a grown woman you can do whatever you want--”

“But I won’t if that means any of you guys getting hurt.” Aubrey says, her voice cracking. “Especially you or Mama.

Dani nods slowly. It’ll hurt to see Aubrey leave. That’s damn obvious. But once the missing person report is gone, she can come back and everything will be alright again.

Right?

“I...I’ll text you every day, and I’ll be back in less than a week. I just need to show up home, tell my dad to fuck off, and come back.”

“Promise?”

Aubrey connects their lips in a deep, emotion-filled kiss. “Promise.”

Aubrey leaves at the very last second she can on the third day, Boyd Mosche keeping a firm watch on her to make sure she doesn’t run again. Everyone is anxious to see her go, having gotten to know and love Aubrey in the just under one year she’s been staying with them-- but no one’s as worried as Mama is, save for probably Dani. Mama spends her days not at work pacing in her art shed (which she still hasn’t repaired since Ned crashed into it), waiting for a message to come through.

Nothing comes from Aubrey, and when Dani tries to air her frustrations with Sparks, her friend is suspiciously not responding-- which only confirms Dani’s theory. She’d forgotten to even mention it in the days before Aubrey had left, because how does one go about that? And should she even? Definitely not now, it’s not the time--

So she doesn’t. Aubrey leaves, and she’s alone, and it hurts.

Every night that Aubrey is gone ends the same: Dani, curled up small in the middle of Mama’s bed, trying not to cry because this whole situation is bullshit and it hurts like hell.

“But it shouldn’t take this long, Mama.” Dani, sweetie, it’s complicated. “Even if she had to take a bus all the way home and back, she should be home by now. She just has to show her dad she’s alive and then she can leave!” I told you, that ain’t exactly how this all works. “But it should be. Why’s it gotta be so complicated? I just want her home!” Me too, Dani. Me too.

And she does come home. It just takes some time.

Two whole weeks pass, but nearing bedtime one night the front door creaks open and Aubrey makes her way sheepishly inside. She looks tired from the long bus ride but oh so happy to be back-- especially when she sees Jake doing homework on the couch. Dani is in her bedroom when she shows up, but Jake’s loud yell brings her down and in an instant she’s in Aubrey’s strong, warm hold and she never wants to let go.

Slowly the rest of the house filters into the entrance way and gives Aubrey hugs. Barclay, Mama-- even Duck, who had been sleeping on the reclining chair in the living room for the last two weeks. After she’s finally able to get her story out, dramatic and exaggerated a bit to keep it light, Barclay insists on making a quick batch of cookies to celebrate before anyone can go to bed-- which is definitely a needed treat after the last couple of weeks.

“Hey, Dani? Where’s my stuff?”

Dani lifts her head from the sink, her toothbrush dangling from her mouth. “Hm?”

“My stuff. That I left in in my room?”

“Oh. I moved it to my room.” She spits quickly and rinses her mouth as Aubrey gives her an amused smile. “I mean, uh-- well-- an old friend was coming back, and her room used to be yours, but she stayed in the room next to yours, and I just never got to moving it back...”

“Dani, if you wanted me to move in with you, all you had to do is ask.” Aubrey says with a laugh, and Dani’s cheeks burn bright.

“No, no, I didn’t-- Aubrey I didn’t-- I mean, if you wanna share a room, but it’s not moving in together technically--” Dani hides her face in Aubrey’s neck, and her girlfriend laughs. Aubrey’s lips press against her temple, coaxing her out of her hiding place so that she can kiss all over her face; nose, cheeks, jaw, lips.

“Hell yeah! I’m, like, really into you, Dani, so I’m like, down with staying with you.”

“Aubrey, you’re-- you're so amazing, oh my god.” She laughs. “I’m so in love with you, oh my god.”

It’s Aubrey’s turn to blush, and Dani’s eyes widen a bit in panic before Aubrey kisses her again. “I’m in love with you too, Dani. Like, so much. I had no idea what I was gonna do if I didn’t get to come home to you and Mama and them.”

“Well it’s a good thing you didn’t need to worry too much, then. We all knew you’d come back.”

“We knew even if you had to kill your old man you’d come back.” Mama’s voice startles them both, and they jump apart like teenagers, blushing and stuttering. Mama just has a fond smile on her lips. “Now, I’d appreciate being able to use the bathroom. You two can continue the smoochin’ in your room.”

“Right, we’re still in the- the bathroom. Sorry Mama.”

“Sorry Mama.”

“Good night, girls.” Mama steps aside to let them past, giving them both big hugs before the door closes. Dani pulls Aubrey down the hall to their room, a smile on her face, and it’s finally calm.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dani’s phone dings, and she smiles when she sees The-Lady-Flame on her discord screen. Aubrey’s started to type away on her phone, curled up in Dani’s lap while a Disney movie plays. Dani decides to risk her theory being wrong, even though she knows it’s not, while typing her reply.

The-Lady-Flame: Sorry I’ve been gone a while. Long story but I’m good now. How’s the girlfriend?

Vamp-2-amp: I dunno, Aubrey, how are you?

Aubrey’s eyes flick up to her a few seconds later, and their eyes lock.

“...Vamp?”

“Hey, Sparks.”

“...Holy shit.”

- BONUS END -

“I can’t believe you two didn’t notice you were talking to each other about each other!”

“You shut your mouth Duck Newton, it ain’t their fault." Mama slaps the back of Duck’s head with a grin.

“I at least get to use the fact that I’m a dumb lesbian, I don’t know what Aubrey’s excuse is.” Dani says. She’s sat in Aubrey’s lap after dinner one night, just relaxing. The whole gang had gotten together for Aubrey’s birthday, and it’s a happy affair. She’d even had a phone conversation with her father that wasn’t too terrible.

“I got nothin’ I was just too dumb to see it.” Aubrey laughs.

"Well, I’m just glad you two got over it. Those first few months were just painful rotten, seeing you try an’ act like you don’t like each other.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just like you act like you don’t like Mr. Stern at the county offices.” Dani says, rolling her eyes, and Barclay blushes.

They keep bickering playfully amongst themselves, eating the sweets Barclay made for them, until there’s a knock on the front door. Mama goes to answer it, confused, and comes back a minute later with Ned Chicane. Ned smiles sheepishly when the chatter goes silent, all eyes falling on him. He holds a balloon and a small wrapped box.

“Aubrey? Can we talk? Alone?”

Dani looks down at Aubrey, who looks up at her. She squeezes her girlfriend’s hand, nodding. She knows how much it hurt for Ned to give her up, and even if she’s still mad at him, Dani knows it would be better for Aubrey if she listened to him and accepted his apology. Aubrey nods, sliding Dani off of her lap, and they disappear out back for a long-needed talk.

#taz: amnesty #the adventure zone: amnesty #the adventure zone #danbrey #taz dani #taz aubrey #aubrey little #aubrey little taz #taz danbrey #taz mama #amnesty au #taz barclay #taz jake coolice #jake coolice #duck newton

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tinydemondragon · 5 years

Text

This is for @bisexualducknewton who asked for teenage trans junoduck. All I could think of when writing this was that one post where they’re getting high and Duck says he’s a guy and Juno is like “cool, I’m not.” I don’t know who wrote that post because my memory is literal garbage, but this was inspired by that. So, without further ado, here we go!

They’re sitting in front of the school, skipping class. Juno has a blunt in hand and looks over to Duck. Duck’s shifting nervously, clutching at her shirt, right over her chest. Juno has been worried about her, it’s why they’re out here actually.

Even with the pot in their systems, Duck seems nervous. Juno, for the life of her, can not figure out why. They’ve been here for the past 20 minutes and she hasn’t said a word.

“Hey Duck, what’s botherin’ you?” She asks, staring down resolutely at her fingers. They’ve only been hanging out for the past few months, but Juno has been crushing on her longer than that. She noticed her back in middle school and has been smitten ever since.

So when the opportunity arose to start hanging out with her, Juno jumped on it.

Now they’re friends and the crush she had has increased tenfold since they entered high school.

Still, there are still secrets left untold between them, things more than just nerves keeping her from asking Duck on a date. But they’ve been getting closer, to the point where Juno is ready to spill everything.

But Duck’s nerves are setting hers alight and it’s not makin confessing any easier.

“Well, uh, ya see, Jason,” Duck starts and she has to hold in a wince. There’s secret number one keeping her from saying anything.

Duck stays silent for a minute and Juno turns to face Duck. She’s her friend first, and her crush second. It’s obvious that something’s bothering Duck, so Juno is gonna be there for her.

“Duck, what’s wrong?” She asks again, staring into those eyes and trying so hard not to get lost in them.

For a second they’re silent and then Duck blurts out, “I’m a guy!”

Juno freezes for a second, then she’s laughing. Duck looks hurt for a second, and she says, “Wait! I ain’t laughing at you!”

Duck still looks hurt, but she, no, he looks confused as well. “Well then what are you laughing at?”

“You may not be a girl, but I am!” They’re silent for a second, staring at each other, before they burst out laughing. Juno feels high, and it’s not just because of the pot. She’s relieved and happy and high off the feeling of the weight being lifted off her shoulders.

She schools her expression, trying to keep her giggles under wraps. “My name is Juno Divine,” she says, biting down on a smile. “Nice to meet ya!”

“Name’s Duck Newton,” and he’s still laughing lightly and Juno falls a little bit more.

“Nice to meet you Mister Duck Newton,” she says brightly. Duck’s still laughing and the sound urges her to continue their little confessional. What’s one more secret shared, anyway?

“I’m bisexual!” she says, disguising her nerves behind a strained smile.

Duck blinks at her for a minute before he says, “Well, shit Miss Juno Divine, me too.

She’s so busy basking in the joy of hearing her name, her real name, the one she got to choose, that she almost misses the last bit. When it registers, though, she feels her heart climb up to her throat.

She’s helpless, all she can do is stare at this boy in front of her. He’s so beautiful and her heart aches. Slowly, Duck stops chuckling and they’re just staring at each other. And maybe it should be awkward, but it’s not. It just feels important.

The moment is broken when they hear the bell ring. Juno feels her eyes go wide as they scrabble to push their supplies in their backpacks, taking care to completely douse the end of the blunt.

They jump up to their feet just as they hear the doors to the front step they’re sitting on open. Juno knows it’s a teacher, and if they hurry they may be able to duck out of sight. Grabbing Duck’s hand, she sprints down the steps, dragging Duck with her. When they make it around the edge of the building, Duck presses up against her front as they go quiet.

They stay there for a couple minutes, breathing in each others spaces, before they hear the sounds of multiple students exiting the building, and they know they’re safe.

Duck laughs once more, burying his face in her neck and she freezes again. She wills herself not to react and curses being a teenager.

Duck pulls back from laughing and grabs both of her hands in his.

“Let’s blow this joint,” he says between snickers.

“Yeah,” Juno breathes. And maybe she can’t bring herself to confess today, but someday soon she will. For now, she’ll just count her lucky stars that one Duck Newton was brought into her life.

Again, thank you so much Roswell for the prompt! It was super fun to do!! I can’t wait to get started on the others!

If you want a prompt done, just follow the instructions on this post!

#100 follower special #junoduck #juno divine #duck newton #taz amnesty #taz #amnesty #can you tell ive never written for this pairing before??#hope its not too terrible haha #dragon writing

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

Hi there! If you're feeling it for mermay, I would like to request #9: folklore with OT4? No preference on rating: go with whatever feels best! Thank you so much and I hope you have a nice day!

Here you go! I went SFW on this one.

“You did what??” Dani stares at Barclay, shocked.

“I offered him a job. He needed work while he was here in town for his research, and he seemed nice, and, uh, and-”

“And attractive.” Indrid adds, turning to a new page in his sketchbook.

“Branchin out a little from your usual type, sugar.” Duck kisses his cheek.

“Barclay, he’s a folklorist. A folklorist who specifically studies selkies.”

“Yeah he, uh, he said so. I figured if he’s working for me, or even if he wants me to show him around, I can steer him away from all the selkies.”

“Except for the one showing him around.” Dani gives him a look only an older sister could give.

“It’s not like he’s gonna see me transform.” Barclay mutters.

The meeting ends much as it began; with everyone agreeing that the new guy in town was a potential threat and should be given absolutely no information whatsoever. It’s not that Barclay doesn’t see the man, who introduced himself as Joseph Stern, as someone after Keplers secrets. It’s more that the guy uprooted his entire life to come to an obscure, Alaskan bay in hopes of finding the thing he wants most in the world. Barclay sympathizes.

Kepler is notorious among selkies; a safe haven, a place where there are humans who will protect them, help them, even love them. More than one enterprising selkie, trapped in a loveless marriage or unending servitude, has tricked the human who betrayed them into going north. It’s rare that a human who committed such a breach of trust remains there long; and they always give the pelt back, usually while packing their things in a desperate rush.

It’s a pity, then, that Barclay never got the man who tricked him up here.

He finishes the dinner rush at Amnesty Lodge, located on the edge of the bay and a welcome stop for travelers from land and water alike. As he usually does this time of night, he heads to a dock, far from the lights of town or the ships out at sea, and sits with his feet in the water, solitary and solemn. Tonight, he’s not alone for long.

Silvery hair emerges from the water as Indrid, now sporting a lovely grey tail, swims over to him. They met when Barclay first came here, Indrid more than a little odd but appreciative of Barclays skill in the kitchen and bedroom in ways he’d been without for years. The gift of future vision meant Indrid was nomadic, in that he was determined to use his powers to prevent tragedy whenever he could, and so one day he swam away from Kepler.

Barclay didn’t see him for years. No one did. Until a ranger by the name of Duck Newton was helping tag seals that kept swimming too far up the salmon runs and got the shock of his life when the one he caught turned into a man as he was holding him. Indrid pointed out that his ear was already pierced and if they needed him to hunt somewhere else they could just ask. Duck who, in spite of living in Kepler for years, did not believe in the supernatural until he was holding it, offered the first apology that came to mind, which included inviting Indrid to dinner.

They’ve been dating for two years now.

Indrid rises from the water enough to rest his head in Barclay’s lap, “Come stay with us tonight.”

“I...do you really want me to?”

“If you do not, you spend all night brooding and unable to sleep, thus making for a miserable morning. Too, I am rather fond of your company.” Indrid tilts his chin up with a grin and Barclay leans down to kiss him, “and before you ask, yes, Duck remains fine with this. He says, and I quote ‘Barclay’s my friend and also if you’re hugging him I can escape bed long enough to get ready for work.”

He chuckles, “Okay, I’ll be over soon. I, uh, is there any chance-”

“No” Indrid shakes his head with a sigh, rubs his cheek against Barclays leg, “there are still no futures where we find your coat. Wherever that bastard sent it, he hid it well.”

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

Barclay’is in trouble; not only is Joseph a good cook, he’s good company too. He finishes his shifts sweaty and exhausted, same as Barclay, and the selkie wonders what it would be like to see him breathless and red faced in other contexts. He suspects he’s not the only one.

Joseph’s research regularly takes him into the national forest or the adjoining state park on the beach, meaning he’s routinely running into Duck. The ranger initially worried his inability to lie convincingly would be a problem. But after some cursory questions that Indrid saw coming and coached him through technically true responses to, he and Joseph have struck up a passing friendship.

“Joseph is also very interested in his love life” Indrid reveals while swimming circles around Barclay as he stands in the cold water, “not that I blame him. He has excellent taste in men. Present company included.”

“He’s just being nice to me. And I’m practically his boss.”

Indrid pauses his swimming to stare at him, “Dearest, when he’s not working, what does he do?”

“Uh, crosswords? Or he reads, and he likes trying new restaurants and going to movies.”

“And you know all this how?”

“Because he does it near me or asks me to go with him. Oh, uh, huh. Maybe he does have a thing for me.”

Indrid floats into his arms, kisses him, “invite him to dinner. The others at the Lodge are, understandably, still wary of him and don’t want him around. But there’s no harm in him having over for a meal.”

Barclay pulls Indrid closer, tickles his cheek with his beard as he teases, “Seems like I’m not the only one with a crush on him.”

“Not in the slightest.” Indrid grins, “Our lives have not been easy. I don’t know about you, but I intend to embrace affection and love whenever the opportunity presents itself. “

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

There’s no way Joseph is passing up this opportunity.

He’d been refilling his travel mug at the complementary coffee kiosk in the Lodge and asked if anyone happened to know which rivers had the most reported selkie sightings. After each blurting out a different answer, his fellow guests (tenants, really) decided on the Bluff Creek river as the best option.

He wonders if they know just how obvious it is that they’re hiding something.

Joseph is well aware that folklorists are seen as credulous and gullible. He uses that to his advantage. There’s no reason for anyone to know about his seven years in the FBI prior to this. No reason for them to know he knows that Dani will propose to Aubrey soon, that Jake is sneaking out every night, that Barclay is searching for something as intensely as Joseph is.

Most nights, he falls asleep under a burnt orange bedspread dreaming that he’s what the cook is looking for.

Barclays feelings for him are one of the few things at Amnesty he can’t decipher. He offers him a job, takes a personal interest in his welfare, and makes him coffee just how he likes it. Every single morning. But he gets jittery when Joseph asks him about himself, and some days he outright hides from him until they’re in the kitchen.

The dinners with Indrid and Duck aren’t helping his confusion. Barclay practically holds his hand during them, but turns pink whenever Indrid winks at him. And Duck…well, Joseph knows he’s good looking, and he’s never had a hard time hooking up while traveling. The rangers attention just makes him so hot under the collar he wants to strip down at the table. Which is why he can’t decide if Duck agreeing to be his guide on the river is a stroke of luck or a brilliant plan to keep him from noticing things they don’t want him to see.

When Duck meets him at the dock, his casual outdoor clothes unfairly flattering (Indrid likes the uniform better, but Joseph finds it hides too much of Duck’s arms and chest), he decides there’s no point in looking a gift hunk in the mouth.

They paddle upriver, trading bad, pun-based jokes until the wind picks up and drowns their voices out. It’s slow going, and there’s no sign of a selkie, but Duck remains excellent company. They make camp an hour before sunset, in a two man tent that leaves them smushed shoulder to shoulder.

As they’re comparing notes on growing up trans in a small town, Joseph shares the story of the time he nearly broke his tailbone after slipping on a packer he left on the floor. Duck guffaws, shaking the tent as he does, and ends up giggling into Joseph’s shoulder as they both wipe tears from their eyes.

“You have a great laugh, you know that?”

“Sound like a bird of paradise gettin hit by an accordion.” Duck isn’t moving his head.

“That’s a remarkably accurate description, but my point stands.”

He feels Duck turn his head, “Joe? Would, uh, would it be okay if I kissed you? You can say no, swear I won’t abandon you or leave you for the bears so some shit. Just, uh, been thinkin about it all day and figured I’d ask.”

“It won’t upset Indrid?” He slides his hand from his sleeping bag to hold Duck’s own.

“Nah. He and I talked about it. And, uh, his uh, his social circles ain’t super invested in monogamy.”

“Oh. Um” He wants to roll over, wants to pin Duck and kiss him until dawn. But if he does, it might mean he never gets a chance to do the same to a certain someone else, someone who he wishes would just tell him how he felt-

“If it, uh, helps any, happen to know Barclay sees things the same way ‘Drid does.”

“In that case…” he crawls from the sleeping bag, Duck unzipping his own and kicking it open so there’s nothing to stop Joseph’s hands as they stroke and grope their way across his body, “I have a proposal for you.”

Unsurprisingly, they get a late start the next day. As Joseph is paddling, he spots a tail flipping out of the water, far too large to be an otter. Before he can say anything, the roar of the river changes, turning rougher and deeper.

“Fuck, the snowmelt must’ve started earlier than usual, these rapids normally ain’t this big.”

“Should we try to reverse?”

“Maybe we can, nope, fuck, okay we’re goin through whether we like it or not, try’n stay low and hold on.”

Duck’s excellent advice goes out the window at the same instant Joseph goes out of the boat, a swell catching him off guard. He hits a rock at just the wrong angle, pain shooting up his wrist as he releases his paddle. He’s not panicking, but the more he fights to keep his head up, the closer he gets.

Then an arm is around his waist, pulling him to shore. He has just enough time to see his rescuer has a grey tail before they disappear under the water. There’s no sign of the boat or of Duck. A tremendous splash resolves one of those problems.

“Duck!” He hurries to where the ranger coughs water onto the pebbles, “thank the lord.”

“Nah” he coughs again, “thank him.” He gestures weakly to the familiar face and torso now attached to a tail coated in silver-grey fur.

“You’re a selkie.” Joseph scoots across the rocky ground.

“Indeed.” Indrid taps his fingers together, “I, ah, I am sorry my love. I know we agreed he could not know, but when the timelines showed the rapids most of them involved you both going into the river and in, in many of them one or both of you was knocked unconscious on the stones and did not resurface. I could not let that happen to you. Either of you.”

Joseph reaches out reverently with his uninjured hand, and Indrid guides his tail to meet him. It’s exquisite to touch, and as he smooths his fingers along it, Indrid purrs and rolls onto his back.

“Mmmm, already you are proving why it was worth it to save you.” Indrid grins, wiggling closer.

“You, uh, you ain’t angry at us for hidin it from you?” Duck guides Indrid’s head into his lap, petting his hair, looking warily at Joseph.

“Duck, I’ve known you and the rest of the people at the Lodge were hiding things from me, and that given the towns reputation those things were probably related to selkies. It’s not like there aren’t dangers to people learning about selkies and where they live, and I never made it clear whether my research would lead to that. It hurts not to be trusted but, well, I’m used to it.” He looks down at where Indrid is nuzzling Duck’s belly, “I promise, I won’t put you or any of the others in danger.”

“Mmmm” Indrid’s tail relaxes under his hands, “apologies, I am listening, but it took a great deal of energy to reach you in time and pull you from the water. I think I shall nap until our ride comes.”

“Uh, think you’re gonna nap in the car.” Duck tilts his head towards the treeline, where the rumble of an engine rattles up the abandoned logging road. A minute later, a door slams and Barclay appears from the trees.

“Fuck, he wasn’t kidding that you had rough time.” Barclay helps Joseph into the back seat while Indrid, now sporting legs, climbs into the front, “Duck, med kit is behind the drivers seat.”

“Great. Joe, c’mere, I can secure your wrist and get you some painkillers.”

“Right. Thanks.” He turns back to Barclay, eyebrow raised.

“Guess, uh, guess we have a lot to talk about later. I, uh, I should probably just tell you the big thing now. I’m uh, I’m like Indrid.”

Joseph smiles, “I guessed as much the moment Indrid revealed himself.”

“Oh.”

“Is there, um, anything else you want to tell me sooner rather than later?”

Barclay’s honey-rich baritone comes out as shy as a first kiss, “If you said you’d go out with me, it’d make my whole fucking year.”

Joseph murmurs in his ear, “The instant I’m out of the hospital, you’re taking me to dinner.”

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

There’s a sturdy hammock at the edge of Duck’s yard, overlooking the river. Joseph had no interest in it until he discovered it was the perfect size to have Barclay lay in so he could then lay on his chest. They’re in that configuration when he asks the question he’s been putting off for fear of upsetting his boyfriend.

“How did you end up in Kepler? Were you born here?”

“No.” Barclay’s hands settle on his back, “I grew up off the coast of California. There was a guy, a human, we’d been friends since we were teenagers. As we got older he got, uh, he got it into his head that we could go on the road as like a, uh, a sideshow act. That people would pay big money to see a real selkie. I hated the fucking idea, told him to drop it, and he did, went back to being the considerate, cool guy he’d been when we met. He made a big dinner for my birthday, invited me over and…” his fists tighten in Joseph’s shirt, “and when I was there, he stole my coat.”

“Oh, Barclay” Joseph pets his chest, “I’m so sorry.”

“I agreed to work with him because I didn’t have a choice. I hated every goddamn minute of planning, of knowing he saw me as a fucking meal ticket. One night I snapped, told him to give me back my coat and let me go or I’d make him regret it. He locked me in the fucking basement, and when I got out, he told me he’d shipped my coat far, far away, and if I ever wanted to find it, I’d better stay with him. Asshole didn’t realize getting rid of the coat meant he didn’t have a hold on me anymore. I left, looked for it for years, then basically gave up and moved to Kepler because I knew there were other selkies here. Indrid’s convinced the pelt is here somewhere, keeps saying our finding it is just on the edges of his visions. But I dunno. I think it’s gone for good.”

Fear clings to his heart, “Will you get sick if you never find it? Are, are you sick now, or in pain?”

“No. Selkies don’t die or get sick without their pelts. It’s more like...like a part of you is missing, with this ache where it’s supposed to be. Mine’s been gone so long I barely notice it anymore.”

Joseph sits up, frowning, “You’re lying.”

“...Yeah. Yeah I am. But what else can I do?”

“Let me help. I’m an investigative professional, I have been for years, and I can’t think of a better use for those skills than finding your coat. Than, than making you happy and whole.”

Barclay studies him a moment, then yanks him down into a kiss, whimpering when Joseph nips his lips and licks between them.

“Now, big guy,” he brushes their noses together, “what does it look like?”

“It’s the same color as my hair, with a crescent scar at the base of the tail from where a shark bit me. God, Joseph, I hope you see it some day, if you think Indrid’s tail is beautiful, and it is, mine is fucking gorgeous…”

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

“Joseph! How is my favorite connoisseur of cryptozoology today?”

“ I’m fine, Ned. And since I can see the dollar signs in your eyes from here yes, if you have new merchandise I would like to see it.”

Stationed on the highway at the edge of Kepler, the Cryptonomica is the kind of tourist trap Joseph can’t help but love. Even if the informational plaques contain miles of misinformation, it’s nice to be somewhere that doesn’t scoff at the supernatural or strange.

As Ned rummages in the back, Joseph circles the room to arrive at his favorite display; Bigfoot, complete with a supposed “stuffed bigfoot” whose fur is so many different colors it looks like a patchwork quilt his grandmother kept on the couch. Not for the first time, he amuses himself with the observation that the back portion resembles Barclay’s hair.

“Wait.” He says, loud enough that Ned’s assistant, Kirby, looks up from his desk.

“Something you need, Mr. Stern?”

He kneels down, pulling his penlight from his jacket and peering at the creatures lower back.

“Yes. I need a knife, and I need it now.”

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

“Goodness!” Indrid yelps a moment before Joseph bursts through the door.

“Barclay, Barclay look!” The researcher spins in a circle, searching for the cook.

“What is it, is everything okay?” He hurries out of the kitchen, then drops to his knees in shock, “it, it can’t be.”

“It is. Or, um, there’s a very strong chance it is. Look” He holds out the chestnut cloak, “the scar matches.”

“I, I, I-” Barclay grabs the pelt, holding it to his chest, “I must be dreaming.”

“There’s only one way to find out” Indrid grins as he pulls Duck up along with him, then tugs Barclay to his feet, “to the water!”

They’re moving so fast that Barclay only has a moment to swing the coat over his shoulders as he dives into the water, Joseph calling out to be careful.

And then is heart thrums, whole for the first time in decades, as warm fur envelopes him. His second skin sings into his nerves, reunited with it’s home, and he let’s the transformation take it’s full form. When he leaps for joy out of the water, there’s not a human feature to be seen.

Joseph cries out in triumph, Duck whooping out cheers along with him. There’s no sign of Indrid until he returns to the waves, at which point the most stunning silver seal twirls around him. The next time he rises from the water, he reverts to his half-form, savoring the sensation of moving it through the depths as Joseph and Duck wade in to join them.

He pulls Joseph into a kiss, dipping him so his black hair fans out in the water, “You did it, babe.”

“I, I may as well quit all my other jobs, nothing else I accomplish in my life will compare to the look on your face right now.”

“Oh pet” Indrid smiles, “you’ve not seen anything yet. Did I say that right?”

“Close enough, sugar.”

“Come, dearest, I’ve been waiting for years to see if you can out-swim me.”

“You’re fucking on” Barclay kisses Joseph once more for good measure, “be right back.”

As he speeds through the water, Indrid keeping pace with him, he just makes out the conversation behind them.

“You, uh, you know givin a selkie their pelt back is a marriage proposal, right?”

“Yes. But we can talk about that later, all four of us.”

#OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #mermay fills #Indrid cold/Barclay #indruck #sternclay #duck newton/agent stern

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

#56, OT4, NSFW if possible. Thank you for providing Winter-y cheer for us all!

You’re welcome! And this is indeed NSFW

56. my little sibling/cousin makes me sit on santa’s lap and when santa asks me what I want for christmas, I blurt “someone to love” and you’re the cute elf that overhears (or I blurt ….[insert here])

He’s exhausted, but he promised he’d take his cousins to see Santa after work while his aunt does some shopping. As is traditional, half the Newton family is already in town, even though it’s three and a half weeks until Christmas.

Dove and Robin each take their turns, and then insist in that terrifyingly forceful way of six year olds that Duck do so as well. Given he nearly blew it last year when they asked him if Santa was real, he decides he should play along. At least he changed out of his work uniform first so fewer of the other mall employees will recognize him as a twenty-three year old man sitting on Santa’s lap.

“And what would you like for Christmas, young man?”

“Ned, please, make this easy” he hisses at the man playing Santa.

“Well, then, answer the question dear boy.”

“I, uh, I really want…”

He can’t lie and say something bland, and the only thing he’s really hoping for this winter is-

“I want to get laid.”

He regrets the words and all of his life choices as Ned booms out a laugh. His cousins are too busy studying the toys strewn about the room to hear, so he counts that as his luck for the day, takes their hands, and hurries off into the mall.

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

“He really said that?” Barclay looks back at Stern as he restocks cookbooks.

“Yes. I was photo elf today so he didn’t see me cracking up.”

“Don’t know why they hide their cutest elf away like that.”

“Because I’m tall.”

Barclay turns, glances around to be sure no one is watching, and kisses his cheek.

“Nah, you’re perfect.”

He blushes; even after nine months of dating, Barclay has a way of acting as if he’s in a perpetual state of falling for him.

“What did the guy look like?”

“On the shorter side, and his eyes where two different colors. Works at R.E.I.” It’s his best attempt to protect Duck’s dignity.

A conspiratorial smile crosses his boyfriends face, “Keep an eye out for my manager for a sec, babe?”

“Of course. What are you doing?”

“Matchmaking. I hope.”

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

Duck’s on duty in the tent and sleeping bag area when Indrid Cold appears. Indrid works at the tattoo shop across the way, and has a habit of taking lunch the same time Duck does, sitting on a metal bench and trying to draw. The mall gets crowded and loud around then, and two months ago Duck started sneaking him into a back corner of the store so he can have lunch in peace. Indrid, a few years his senior, with his tongue piercing and tattoos, the ratty black pants and various tank-tops that show off a skinny frame Duck would love to get his hands on, is the kind of guy Duck would’ve had a crush on.

Now, Indrid is the kind of guy who makes him so hard he does embarrassing-ass things like say “I need to get laid” in front of his cousins.

Indrid leans his shoulder on the wall, grinning, red glasses making him resemble the mothman tattoo on his right arm.

“Howdy, sir, got questions about the tents?” Duck smirks.

“Indeed. Which one is best for sex?”

Duck barks out a laugh, claps a hand over his mouth when a nearby shopper gives him a funny look.

“Any that ain’t a one-person deal. That your way of tellin me you got a hot date tonight?”

“I might” Indrid peers of the rims of his glasses, “a little bird told me you had a rather, ah, explicit Christmas wish.”

“Aw fuck, who even heard me othern’n Ned?”

“I suspect it was Joseph. Poor man is stuck being an elf, and it was Barclay who texted me the hint.”

“Ughhhhwait-” Duck stares at him, “you came over here to ask me if, uh, if I wanted to, uh-”

“Yes. Oh dear, was my innuendo unclear? Or was it not even an innuendo?”

Duck has him against the wall in two steps, not touching him but bringing his mouth up to growl in his ear

“Your place, sugar?”

“I get off at seven.”

“Won’t be the only time you get off, I gauran-goddamn-tee it.”

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

Indrid’s grip is flatteringly eager as he pins Duck to the door of his trailer.

“Damn, sugar, didn’t know you wanted me that badAhnnnnnohfuckyeah.” He rolls his hips as Indrid yanks his collar down to set hickeys in his skin.

“I have though you were attractive from the moment I saw you, and have wanted to fuck you since that time you made yourself laugh so hard you nearly snorted soda out of your nose.”

“Kinky.”

“I meant” Indrid grabs and shoves and guides him across the floor, “that the moment I saw that smile I wanted to see what other smiles I could draw from you.” The kiss is a counterpoint the heated touches, so gentle and sincere Duck changes course.

“Fuck it” he hops up onto the kitchen table, discarded illustrations crunching under him, “I can’t wait anymore, you’re so fuckin cute, all fuckin romantic and shit.” He pulls him down into another kiss, groans as clever fingers undo his pants. Duck shifts as Indrid gets them mostly down, refusing to break the kiss all the while. The wire of the taller man’s glasses bumps his skin, and he finally gives in, pulling away so he can guide them off Indrid’s face.

“I’d very much like to touch.” Indrid’s fingers are tense, poised on Duck’s thighs. He looks shyer without the glasses, almost virginal, which is fucking remarkable for a guy who came onto him in broad daylight.

“Touch whatever you like, sugar, long as you let me do it back.”

“Gladly. I, ah, that is, should I stay on the outside?”

He thinks, trying to sty a step ahead of his own brain to see if this is a day where penetration might set it off.

“This time, yeah.” Duck hooks his legs round Indrids, keeping them close.

“Does...that mean there might be a next time?” Indrid is gnawing his chapped bottom lip.

Duck waits for him to meet his eyes, then nods so Indrid can know what comes next is pure teasing.

“Depends on how well you doOHfuck, ‘Drid, that’s it sugar, c’mon, jack me off.” He grinds his hips, Indrid experimenting with different movements, grinning every time Duck moans.

“Touch me, please, Duck, I want you, want you so much.”

It takes a few seconds of fumbling and two muttered “fucks” before he gets Indrid’s pants undone enough to get his hand around his cock. A tattoo peeks out over either hip, and Duck decides his new plan for the winter is to discover every inch of Indrid’s skin with his mouth and hands.

There’s a whine as Indrid buries his face into Duck’s shoulder, working him harder as Duck’s fingers go slick with pre-cum.

“I, I am not going to last very long, wanted this too long, too much”

“Then cum for me, sugar.” He picks up the pace and in four strokes discovers Indrid isn’t kidding, the silver-haired man cumming down his hand.

“D-don’t stop, don’t stop until I’ve made you cum. AH, ahnnnyes, yes” Indrid squirms with a delighted smile.

“You like that? Knowin I’m gonna wring you dry unless you get me off?”

“Yes!”

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin needy, you’ll even take me bein rough just so you can fuck me.” He gives up on being gentle, moans when this makes Indrid find just the right pressure and speed. When he cums he let’s go of his cock, uses both hands to drag Indrid into a kiss and feels him shuddering with pleased little sounds.

“Jesus fucking christ.” He slumps back on his elbows as Indrid drops into a chair, forehead resting on the table “shoulda opened my big mouth in front of Joe sooner.”

“Mmmhmm” Indrid bumps his arm with his nose. Then he cracks his eyes open, the shyness back full-force, “if, ah, if you need to get home I understand but, ah, I was wondering if you’d like to stay awhile?”

“Told my folks I’d be out late. You anglin to cuddle and steal my body heat?”

“Maybe.” A kiss to his arm now, Indrid gazing at him adoringly.

“Then I’m gonna snuggle the hell out of you.”

Soon they’re nestled under the covers of Indrid’s bed, watching the Repair Shop and talking, Duck’s head on Indrid’s chest.

“Kinda funny that our exes set us up, ain’t it?”

“You consider Joseph an ex?”

“Kinda? Sounds better than “friend I fucked a few times Freshman year of college.”

“True. I must admit, the thought does make me wish I’d been a fly on the wall.” Indrid freezes as soon as the sentence hits the air, “ah, that’s, I apologize, that just sort of came out.”

“No harm done.” Duck kisses the top of his head, ignoring the ideas conjured up by the admission. Why stick to Indrid watching when he could be involved? And he bets Indrid goes full-on tease with Barclay, something he’d love to see, and there is definitely a recurring fantasy of fucking Joe from behind while someone else came down his throat….

Later. He can think about those things later. Right now, he’s utterly content and happy to focus on the lilting voice rambling about art restoration and the bony hand holding his own.

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

A side benefit of Duck and Indrid getting together is that they can now go on double-dates with himself and Barclay. Or, as Joseph is starting to call them “put all three men he’s attracted to in a room to see if he cracks” dates. He honestly didn’t mean for it to become that, but the more time they all spend together, the less he can deny the wish that it was just one, four-person date.

His feelings for Barclay are self-explanatory; he’s his boyfriend of nearly a year who, among other things, treats eating him out as something akin to a religious experience. Indrid, he now understands, plays at his long-running interest in the strange and unusual. The fact his intriguing exterior hides someone a little awkward and very well meaning makes it all the better.

And then there’s Duck. They’d hooked-up a few times in college, when Joseph was newly out as trans, and being with someone who wasn’t weird about it had been the icing on the beefcake (a phrase he used once and made Duck laugh and fall off the bed). Duck has only gotten better with age and, looking at his strong arms and rounded face, the ass he wants to sink his fingers into, Joseph understands that the awe he felt whenever Duck was naked wasn't solely to do with the newness of the act. If ever there was a body to be worshiped, it’s Duck’s.

So, yeah, he’s had a lot to think about while listening to parents art director their children for their picture with Santa.

Tonights “double date” is a little odd. He and Barclay are each getting a small tattoo (not matching, he’s too sure that’s a way to jinx things) courtesy of Indrid, with Duck tagging along so they can all go to dinner after. Barclay is the last client of the day, and Indrid’s boss locked the four of them in with a reminder to Indrid to arm the alarm when he leaves. Duck flips through magazines as Joseph reads off Buzzfeed Unsolved conspiracy theories for his entertainment.

“You should do one of those shows. You got that whole nerdy but stylish thing going for you.”

“Duck, my work uniform is an elf costume.”

“But the rest of the time you look like Special Agent Cooper.”

He blushes, “Special Intern Stern is more like it.”

“You’re gettin there, city mouse.”

He looks up at the old pet name, just in time to see Duck throw an Adbusters up as cover and start talking about the image he’s staring out. Joseph lets him. For now.

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

“There. A safely wrapped present to yourself.” Indrid double-checks the bandage on Barclay’s upper arm.

“Thanks, man. Can’t wait to see what it looks like all healed. Sure it’s gonna look fucking great.” Barclay still sounds a little shaky from the adrenaline.

Indrid allows himself a burst of pride that his friend thinks so highly of his work, “I just need to clean up and then we can be on our way.”

Barclay gives an affirmative grunt, staying in his chair. There’s a spike of fear in Indrid’s stomach; did he do something wrong? Is Barclay about to pass out?

Circling the chair to check replaces the fear with pure, skin-prickling lust.

“My, my, is this why you’ve waited so long to get a tattoo?”

Barclay whines, shaking his head, his eyes shut and his cock pitching an obscene tent in his jeans.

“Are you lying?”

“N-no. I, uh, I mean I like pain, but I didn’t think this would happen.”

“That’s a new development.” Indrid leans against his workbench, enjoying the view.

“Joseph and I have been trying out a bunch of things, figuring out what we like.”

“How very methodical. And unfortunate; if memory serves, once you get wound up it takes time for you to unwind.”

“Indrid please” Barclay’s gritting his teeth. Indrid’s remembering just how fun it is to have such a big man wrapped around his finger.

“Please what?” He cocks his head.

“I, fuck, I dunno, talk about weird morbid shit. Disasters. Anything that will make it go down.”

A sinful image enters his mind, unshakeable in it’s appeal.

“I can do you one better. Joseph? Would you come here? I need your help.”

Barclay’s eyes snap open, Indrid grinning at the excitement in them.

“Is everything alright?” Joseph steps through the door, Duck poking his head in worriedly after him.

Indrid points to Barclays cock, “I have to clean up, and that needs to be seen to.”

“And you want me to, um, see to it with you two in the room?”

“Only if you are both comfortable-”

“Yes” Barclay and Joseph say it at the same time, the dark haired man crossing the floor and dropping to his knees in front of his boyfriend.

“Should I, uh?” Duck glances between the three. So polite, even when Indrid can see the flush spreading up his skin from here.

“Please stay.” Joseph is panting, in spite of only now getting Barclay’s zipper down.

“Barclay?”

“Fine by me, man. Long as you know I’m gonna fuck your boyfriend into the floor for fucking with me like this.”

“That I’d like to see.” Duck shuts the door, grabbing Indrid’s chair so he can sit.

“There is one caveat, sweetheart; you are not allowed to cum right now. I promise I’ll show you new ways of being rough with me if you do.”

“You drive a hard bargain, sugar.”

“No fucking kidding, maybe you should get to fuck him before me since he’s being so meEEan, fuck, yes babe, goddamn I love your mouth.” Barclay arches in the chair as Joseph sucks him off. Indrid’s own cock perks up at the sight, becomes insistent as he turns his back and cleans to the sound of Barclay growling profanity in time with the wet sound of his cock defiling Joseph’s throat.

He gets things cleaned and in order as fast as his rapidly dwindling focus will let him, turns back to see Barclay whimpering as Joseph kisses and licks along his shaft. Duck is still seated, rubbing his thighs together as he watches them, hands digging into the faux-leather seat. Indrid supposes he should scold him for stimulating himself, but he looks so very handsome right now.

Instead, he strides over to the pair in his client seat and fists his hand into Josephs hair, gelled strands breaking free in his fingers as he guides his mouth back over Barclay’s thick cockhead.

“We do not have all night, pet. So get to it Snap twice if it needs to stop.” He pushes him down by his hair until Barclay’s pressing the back of his throat, then yanks him almost all the way up. Joseph moans steadily, blue eyes darting between him and Barclay beneath black lashes as Indrid forces him up and down.

“Fuck, babe, you look so fucking good on your knees, taking my cock like a good boy.”

“Ahem.” Indrid manages to look stern. Barclay is just able to tilt his head up enough for Indrid to dip down and kiss his full lips.

“Thank you, baby, thank you for letting me get offAHshitshit.”

“Close, dearest?”

“Uhuh, socloseohfuck”

“Do you want to cum down his throat?”

“So bad, Indrid, please.”

“You heard him, pet.” He holds Joseph’s head down, pre-cum thoroughly staining his pants as Barclay jerks up and Joseph frantically gulps him down. He brings his head up without warning, gathering the stray droplets of cum from his lips and fucking them into his mouth with his fingers.

“Good boy.” He purrs and Joseph whimpers happily.

He looks at Duck, and for a moment he’s terrified he went too far, ignored him for too long. His boyfriend’s eyes are wide and dark, locked onto where Joseph is still eagerly sucking his fingers. Slowly, his gaze drags up to Indrid, crooked smile blossoming as it does.

“Indrid Cold, you’re a fuckin genius, and I am gonna fuck you into next week.”

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

It’s not next week, but it is ten at night and Indrid is being fucked well into it.

They’re at Joseph’s apartment, his lack of roommates giving them optimal privacy, and Indrid is on his back on the tidily made bed. Barclay fucks him hard, grunting out thank yous for the privilege, which Indrid would reward with praise were his mouth not currently occupied with Duck riding his face. Joseph is near his head as well, having cum earlier via Barclay’s tongue (“this one of the best goddamn things in the world and I’m gonna show you two how to do it right”) and now rapturously groping Duck. Indrid can’t quite hear all the praise he’s directing at Duck’s body, but he’s going to hazard a guess he agrees with the statements.

“Can, fuck, can one of you make him cum? Wanna feel this demanding little ass tighten.”

“On it.” Joseph grips his cock and oh, no wonder Barclay looks so blissful most days. The man gives masterful handjobs and Indrid cums hard, whimpering when neither Duck nor Barclay lets up. The base of Barclay’s cock thuds against his ass so hard he’s wondering if that part of him can bruise, and Joseph switches his attention to Indrid’s nipple piercings, toying with him just like Duck demonstrated, Indrid squeaking as he sucks Duck’s dick.

There’s a groan as Barclay cums, working himself through it in Indrid’s increasingly sensitive ass while Duck cums on his face, petting his hair as his hips jerk.

When he’s finally able to sit up, it’s to a portrait of tender debauchery. Barclays head is on his stomach, his beard and hair a royal mess that Joseph is gently stroking down to some semblance of order. Duck is snuggled up beside him, kissing his shoulders and holding Indrid’s hand.

“That was, um, something.” Joseph murmurs.

“A whole hell of a lot of somethin.” Duck opens his free arm so Indrid can nestle against him, Barclay shifting to put his head onto Joseph's thigh.

“Is it...something we wish to happen again?” Indrid’s nerves creep back up.

“Hell yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Yep.”

“Thank goodness. I. Ah. I am realizing I am fond of all three of you and, ah, very attracted to all three of you as well.”

“We should lay out some ground rules, right?”

Barclay’s stomach growls, “For sure, babe. But can we please get dinner while we do? I’m gonna start eating the strap on.

“You better not, that one was expensive.”

They clean up themselves and the room, frequent kisses prolonging the process. As Barclay orders pizza and Indrid starts water for tea, Joseph loops an arm around Duck’s shoulders.

“We should get you to blurt out Christmas wishes more often.”

“You got a deal. Just, next time, not in front of Ned.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #Indruck #agent stern/barclay #sternclay #Mall AU #OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #duck newton/agent stern #trans duck newton #trans agent stern #agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton #Indrid cold/Barclay #agent stern/Indrid Cold

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

For a fic prompt! How about Duck and Indrid are childhood best friends who are college roommates. Indrid has been in love with Duck for years, but when Duck starts dating Minerva it throws Indrid into a deep depression. Ideally Duck and Indrid do get together in the end (though hopefully Duck and Minerva’s breakup isn’t nasty) and you can get as angsty as you’d like! Honestly the angstier the better is my motto! Also I’m all for Indrid still having future sight, if you’d like! Thank you SO MUCH!

Here you go!

Quick content note: it contains trans Duck, including a scene where Indrid takes his side when he comes out in PE and, it’s implied, that coming out is not well recieved.

Indrid Cold lays face down on his bed. His phone is shoved under the black cotton of his pillow case, and he’s drawn the windows shut against the warm August air.

This is a misery of his own making, he knows this. He can’t decide if the fact that it’s a misery nearly two decades in the making is impressive or pathetic.

To understand the origins of it, one has to rewind the tape of his life back quite a ways.

——————————————————-

Duck Newton is six years old and hunting for miners lettuce in his backyard, when he feels like he’s being watched.

Looking up, he finds a face framed with shaggy dark hair, glasses perched on a pointy nose, peeking over the fence at him. As soon as the face sees him, it ducks back down.

Weird.

He goes back to foraging, only to find the face watching him again a minute later. This time, when it disappears, he clambers up the oak tree alongside the fence and scoots carefully out onto a limb that sticks out into the neighboring yard. The face, which belongs to a boy about his age, is staring up at him, as if he expected Duck to appear. He’s standing on the edge of the decorative fountain the old neighbors put in the yard.

“Why’re you watchin me?”

“I wanted to know what you were doing.”

“How come?”

“I’m bored. My dads are putting the house together and I don’t want to draw anymore.” He points to a stack of pictures, next to some crayons that are melting in the sun.

Duck thinks; he hasn’t had anyone to play with since school got out. Leo, who lives down the block, is nine, so not as interested in having Duck trailing after him like a little brother as he used to be.

“…You wanna go see a huge crawdad?”

The other boy perks up, “I have no idea what that is. But yes.”

“C’mon, meet me in the front yard. What’s your name?”

“Indrid.”

“That’s a weird name.”

“What’s yours?” Indrid crosses his arms, eyebrow raised

“Duck.”

Indrid stares at him, wide mouth curling up at one side. His stare is a bit unnerving, and Duck feels the need to explain himself.

“It’s a nickname.”

————————————————————

“I think that’s the same large one from last year.” Indrid peers over his sketchpad, staring down at a crawdad scuttling through the clear creek.

“Told you we shoulda put a colored tape on them or somethin so we could keep track.” Duck looks at the crustacean, and then back at the project he’s working on.

They’re nine years old, hazy and sleepy in the summer afternoon. This part of the creek is shaded, keeps them hidden from passersby and parents alike (they’ve learned to tell at least one parent where they’re going, after Greg, one of Indrid’s dad’s, panicked looking for them).

“What are you making?” Indrid wiggles next to him in the grass, gnawing his pencil as Duck shows him.

“S’a reed raft. I’m gonna see how far I can float it down the river.”

“I will draw a flag for it.” Indrid scribbles, and Duck grins at him. He continues, “I’m glad you’re back. I hate when you got to your uncle’s during the summer. I have no one to talk to.”

“You could talk to Dani.”

“She’s busy a lot.”

Duck looks a little guilty, “Did you get the postcards?”

“Uh huh.” Indrid nods, smiling at his friend to show there’s no harm done. He knows it’s not up to Duck where he goes. The postcards are pinned to his wall, along with his own drawings, some horror movie posters, and the postcards from the last two summers.

“Oh, look at what I found while we were at the lake.” Duck reaches into his pocket, pulling out a smooth, wiggly-striped stone, “Uncle Jeff says it’s agate.”

He holds it out and Indrid takes it, runs his fingers along the smooth, cool surface. It feels lovely. And it reminds him of what he likes most about being Duck’s friend; Duck can make anything, even a rock, seem interesting and special.

Indrid is reminded of another reason he is lucky to have Duck the next morning.

All the adults are down in the living room, talking worriedly. There’s been a car crash on the nearby highway, and one of the trucks was carrying something toxic. The school is closed, and everyone has been told to stay home because the air could be unsafe.

Indrid is under all his blankets, his sketchbook thrown to the other side of the room.

“‘Drid?” The door creaks as Duck enters the bedroom.

He wants to beg him to hide under the covers with him. He wants to tell him to go away.

He sniffs, wipes his nose on his arm, and hears Duck turn towards the bed. The covers slowly lift, and Indrid blinks blearily, tearily up at him.

“Have you been cryin?” Duck looks worried.

He nods.

“Did you know someone who got hurt?”

“No. I, I saw it happen. In my head. Over and over last night. I thought I was imagining it. But then it happened. Th-that happens a lot, ever since my birthday. It’s like, like I see things and then sometimes they happen and sometimes they don’t. I draw them but, but I’m afraid if my dad’s find out they’ll, they’ll think I’m wrong, somethings wrong with me.”

As he’s talking, Duck sits down next to him, rests his arm around his shoulders.

“Nothin’s wrong with you ‘Drid. This is weird, but it don’t make you bad. You should tell you dads. They’re nice, they’ll help you.” He squeezes Indrid’s arm, smiling at him as he rests his head on his shoulder, “I’ll help you too.” He slips the agate from his pocket and into Indrid’s hands, moves their fingers over it in tandem until the motion soothes Indrid’s breathing down, then tucks it into Indrid’s pocket.

————————————————————————————–

“You okay ‘Drid?” Duck plops down on a cafeteria bench Kepler Middle School, Indrid poking glumly at his fruit salad.

“We had oral presentations today. I did mine on my moth.” He taps the jar in front of him. A week or so ago it had contained a caterpillar that he and Duck had identified as belonging to a Banded Tiger Moth. Indrid had decided to raise it into adulthood, Duck helping him figure out which weeds to feed it before it went into its cocoon. When it emerges, he and Duck have the perfect spot picked to release it.

“What’s wrong with your moth?”

“Nice glasses, mothman!” A voice yells, two boys high-fiving when Indrid shrinks in on himself.

“Hey, fuck you, mothman rules!” Duck thanks his lucky stars none of the cafeteria monitors heard him. He recognizes those two; they’re in Indrid’s CORE class with him, meaning the nickname has already spread. Indrid, with his tics and his tendency to finish people’s sentences, his glasses and scraggly appearance, has been pegged as a target for months. It makes Duck’s blood boil to see them turn something Indrid spent time looking after into an insult.

That night, he grabs a sharpie and one of his grey t-shirts.

The next day, he turns up with “Mothman Rules” scrawled on his chest. Indrid’s smile is worth the lecture he gets about messing up his clothes.

———————————————————–

Indrid and Duck sit side by side in the principals office. Their gym clothes in Kepler Middle’s colors, grey and maroon, seem even grimmer right now.

They haven’t done anything wrong, not as far as Indrid is concerned.

Duck stood in the boys line-up during P.E, that’s all. When he refused to move to the girls line, the teacher told the rest of the boys to line up all over again, elsewhere. They all moved, except Indrid, who insisted that Duck was in the right line and refused to play along with a bid to deny that.

They have been sent to the principal for “causing trouble.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Duck murmurs.

“I did. You’re my friend, Duck. And Mr. H is an asshole.”

He thinks, but does not say, that it would take far more than a gym teacher and the threat of detention to leave Duck’s side when he’s in trouble.

———————————————————

It’s Indrid’s 16th birthday, and his dads are throwing a very subdued sweet sixteen. He dyed his hair silver, and they’ve ordered an entire table of desserts from a local bakery, and he, Duck, Juno, Dani, and Barclay have stuffed themselves while watching movies and teasing Dani for being ga-ga over her long-distance girlfriend, Aubrey, who she met playing an online tabletop games.

Once the other three leave, Duck grabs Indrid’s jacket and hands it to him.

“C’mon, lets go to the creek. Got somethin to show you.”

Indrid follows him, teasing him as they turn down the creekbed, “We’re not going to have a repeat of the beer incident are we?”

Duck laughs, “No. Learned better than to give that hummingbird palate of yours booze.”

They hit the familiar dirt of their favorite spot, and Duck gets on tiptoe and reaches into the trees above them. Strings of lights, red to match Indrid’s new glasses, and white, snap on. Below them is a blanket, and Indrid sits down with a perplexed smile. Then he checks the futures, and understands.

“Is this entirely sanitary?”

“Enough.” Duck grins, pulling out a lighter and safety pin, “I did it on mine and I still got the ear.”

“Very well.” Indrid crosses his legs, checks the futures it be double sure this won’t end in infection, and braces himself, “left ear please.”

“Right. Okay, one, two-”

“OWowowowow.”

“Done!”

“Ow.” Indrid winces as Duck cleans the newly-pierced ear, loosens his grip on the agate in his fist.

“Can’t believe you still carry that thing around.”

“I find it soothing. Ooh, how nice.” Indrid picks up the black moth-shaped earring Duck hands him.

“Figured it’d be better to start with a smaller one. And now that you’re all done, you can officially burn your list.”

Indrid pulls a worn sheet of binder paper from his pocket. When he, and then Duck, turned fifteen, they wrote out lists of things they wanted to do before they hit sixteen. He crosses out get ear pierced, then mutters, “I’m still missing one.”

Duck looks at him quizzically. He turns the paper around and points to first kiss.

“Wait, I thought you and Carlos-”

“Nope. Never got that far before we broke up.”

Duck sits next to him, gets a mischievous grin on his face, “Think I know how to help.”

“How’s tha-”

It’s barely a kiss, Duck bringing their lips together just long enough for Indrid to feel him sigh happily. Then he pulls back, still grinning.

Indrid is certain that if he looked down at himself, his veins would be pulsing technicolor, his body lit up like the cheap neon in their tiny downtown.

“Ta-dah, list complete.” Duck whispers.

“Thank you.” Indrid whispers back.

He doesn’t think much of it for the rest of the night, figures it’s just a meeting of Duck’s goofier side with his desire to help a friend.

It’s only when he’s laying in bed, playing the kiss over and over again like a favorite song, that he realizes he might be in trouble.

————————————————————-

Indrid knows the likely outcome, but that doesn’t stop him from leaping up excitedly when Duck bangs the front door open.

“‘Drid, I got in! did you, oh, hey Mr. Cold, did you?”

“Yes.” Indrid grins from the bottom of the staircase.

“Oh hell yeah! Juno got in too! Maybe we can all be roommates.”

As much as Indrid would like that outcome, the arbitrary housing system of UWV Huntington has other ideas. Duck ends up partnered with an affable if often absent psych major, Juno gets a single in the same dorm, just two floors down, and Indrid is stuck with a frat-boy business major.

That doesn’t stop them from making the most of their first year of college. Indrid crashes on Duck’s floor some nights, and the two of them manage to swing having a film class together during spring semester. They each dip their toes into the wild sea that is college dating, with mixed results, trading advice and anecdotes in the dark of Duck’s room.

And none of that, not one single bit, does anything to dampen Indrid’s romantic feelings for his friend.

It’s not that he doesn’t try, just as he’s been trying every day since his 16th birthday. He loves Duck as a friend, wants to be in his life forever. He can’t afford to love him any other way. It’s too risky. And so he tries, over and over and over, to quash those feelings. Sometimes they ebb, sometimes Indrid happily dates or hooks up with other people.

But they always come back, like a faithful hound finding it’s way home.

Because Duck will laugh in that ridiculous way of his, be vulnerable with Indrid in those private moments, make Indrid feel understood in a way no one else can. And he falls in love all over again.

(And that’s before he even gets to the moments where Duck will strip his shirt off on hot days, or wander into the room in his boxer shorts, and Indrid feels the urge to plead with him for the privilege of feeling him up).

It’s because of all this that, when Duck asks if Indrid wants to move in together their sophomore year, he almost says no.

But then he and Duck are sharing celebratory take-out in a half-unpacked apartment and he’s happier than he ever thought he could be.

It’s not perfect by any means. Indrid can be messy, Duck can be terse, money can be tight. But Indrid is so at home with Duck, all that fades into the background. They have friends over, compare notes on dates, have junk food strewn study sessions on the couch, keep each other company during all nighters.

Then, in May of their Sophomore year, things change.

“‘Drid? Oh good, you’re still up. Um, I wanted to tell you somethin. Minerva and I are goin out.”

“Oh. That’s a bit unexpected.” Indrid sets his drawing aside.

“You tellin me you don’t use that magic-eight ball brain to spy on my love life?” Duck teases, plopping down onto the bed with him.

“Never. So…why the switch from work-out buddies to this?”

“Dunno, just seemed like we’d been spendin a lot of time together. She actually tutored me back in high school, remember, so it’s kinda fun to be around someone who’s known me that long. Y'know, someone who watched me grow up.”

“I see.” Indrid kicks his jealousy until it goes limp and sinks back under the surface of his feelings, “well, that’s awesome then. I’m glad you’re excited Duck.”

And he is. It’s not a lie, goodness knows he’s well aware he has no claim to Duck’s affection or time. And Minerva does seem to make him happy, encourages Duck’s good habits like going to the gym (something Indrid has tried once and will never do again. Yoga and walking are fine by him).

But soon he cannot go anywhere with Duck, including his own apartment, without Minerva there. Duck spends all of his time with her, and Indrid learns it’s not just him; while Minerva is gladly included in their group get-togethers, Juno hasn’t seen Duck in weeks. And has barely heard from him. She is also a bit loud and Indrid, who has always had trouble with over-stimulation from noise, finds himself out of the apartment more and more often.

Indrid can’t blame Duck for spending time with Minerva rather than him; she’s jockular, active, attractive (even if she does call Duck by his first name). Indrid is odd, reclusive, and well, weird looking.

It all goes to hell at the end of August.

“‘Drid! The study abroad program offered me a scholarship. I get to go to Brazil. This is so fuckin cool!”

“Wonderful!” Indrid claps his hands, “I know how badly you’ve wanted to go. You have to promise me to send me pictures of brightly colored bugs for art inspiration. Oh, and now we can tell Dani she has somewhere to stay while she and Aubrey look for a shared place.”

“Exactly. And guess what, it gets even better.”

“How-” he sees the answer coming, tries to keep his face neutral.

“Minerva’s comin with me!”

“I wasn’t aware wildlife conservation and management was her area of interest.”

“It ain’t, but she’s comin as part of a grad study program. It’s gonna be so fuckin amazin.”

“I’m sure it will be.” The pull between his true feelings and his need to seem supportive renders his answer flat.

“What’s up?” Duck sits down in the kitchen chair opposite him.

“Nothing. Or, well, I suppose I’ve just now realized that I’ll be without a good friend for a semester. I’ll miss you.”

“Aw, I’ll miss you too, you big sap. Don’t worry, I’ll write you a bunch, send pictures too when I can.”

Indrid looks at the futures, then down at the table, “No, you won’t.”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I?” Duck looks hurt.

“In all the timelines, you send me one postcard at maximum. In most of them, you send none. I slip your mind entirely, it seems.” His voice is tight.

“The fuck? How is that pos-”

“Any time not spent in the field, you are too engrossed by her to do anything else.”

Duck’s face hardens, “So that’s what this is really about.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He lies.

“You’ve been bothered by her since the start! You don’t think I notice that forced smile you get when she’s around, or the fact you leave the house when she comes over?”

“I get overstimulated when there is too much noise, you know that.” Indrid snaps back.

“You hardly come out with us anymore, and you make it sound like she’s controlin me or some shit.”

“I, I do not. I just don’t enjoy when she barges in randomly.” He rubs his temples with his hands, trying to keep calm.

“Christ, you really makin me choose between my best friend and the first girlfriend who’s made me feel this way? Why the fuck can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because it should be me and not her!” Indrid spits out, hands dropping to the table and gaze meeting Duck’s own.

Duck blinks back at him, “Really? Really? You had a million goddamn chances to confess how you feel and you choose now?”

“I, I didn’t, I tried so hard to ignore it, but, fuck, I didn’t mean to say it now but since I did: I’ve been in love with you for years. And, and I just, after everything, we’ve been so close-”

“What, you think that what, because we’ve been friends since we were kids and you been pinin after me for however the fuck long, I should just date you? Like it’s destiny or some shit? What the fuck man?” He stands and Indrid mirrors him.

“Do not put words in my mouth. I never wanted to interfere in your life, I never, you can’t possibly know how I feel!”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m really that fuckin oblivious? I suspected you felt some kind of way about me, and I gave you chances to show me I was right!”

“Name one.” Indrid growls, stepping closer.

“Homecomin, my eighteenth birthday, about a dozen times last year where I asked if you had your eye on anyone and you’d change the goddamn subject,” Duck counts out on his fingers, closing the remaining distance, “hell, coulda used those weird powers of yours to see what would happen if you told me.”

“I was too scared to. And if you were so observant, and apparently not opposed to the idea, why didn’t you make a move on me?”

“What do you think me kissin you on your birthday was?”

“A joke! Goodness, Duck, you know I’m not great with social cues. I didn’t think you’d ever care about me that way.”

“You think I’m that fuckin shallow?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He growls.

“So what was your end-game, huh? Just wait out everyone else, circle me like a fuckin vulture until I’d settle for you? Fuck, Minerva was right, you are creepy.”

Duck may as well have punched him. He sort of wishes he had.

“Fuck. you. Wayne.” He hisses out, stepping around him and towards his room.

“Nah, fuck you, Indrid. Fuck you for makin me think you actually cared about me when all you were doin was bidin your goddamn time!”

“That’s not, no, nevermind. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Duck tosses back, “That’s as good as a confession in my book, you creepy, mothman lookin motherfucker,” and Indrid slams the door.

There’s ten minutes of hurried, angry movement in the rest of the apartment, and then the front door bangs shut.

He cycles through anger (at himself, at Duck, at these obnoxious powers for not helping him prevent the fight), hurt, and numb acceptance that he has blown his oldest, closest friendship to smithereens.

When he finally calms down enough to think clearly he realizes that, if nothing else, he doesn’t want that to be the last conversation they have before Duck leaves.

He faceplants onto his bed, pulls out his phone, and types.

Indrid: I’m sorry for losing my temper, and for not telling you the truth sooner. Even though it would have been helpful if you’d been clearer in the past. Can we talk about this tomorrow, and try again?

The answer is immediate.

Duck: Staying with M until we leave. Don’t text me again unless the apartment is on fire.

He stares at the response, then slides the phone under his pillow, presses his face to the mattress, and lays there numbly until he falls asleep.

——————————————————

“Nope, you are not having a sad hook-up on my watch.” Barclay’s tone freezes Indrid in place, and he slumps back down into the booth at the bar.

Barclay is only a year ahead of him, but at times he reminds Indrid of a mother hen. A very, very large mother hen.

“I cannot believe I allowed you to drag me out on Homecoming weekend.”

“Indrid, you’ve been miserable for almost two months, and I’m honestly really worried about you. Plus, this place has super cheap, real good appetizers.”

“Thank you for not saying ‘apps.’’ Indrid sips his soda.

“That word is an abomination. And you’re avoiding the actual topic.”

“I destroyed my best friend’s trust in me, and am wallowing here while he cavorts in the rainforest with his girlfriend. I’ll survive, but there’s no rule that says I have to enjoy it.”

Barclay sighs, “Look, if I give you permission to be miserable while you do it, will you come to trivia night with me, Joe, and Jake? Dani’s usually out fourth, but she’s helping Aubrey get her magic show up and ready to open.”

Indrid blows a strand of hair from his face (the black patches are getting worse, he needs to dye it again), “I can mope as much as I want?”

“You can cry into your beer for all I care, as long as you let me buy it.”

Trivia night turns out to be much better than anticipated, though Joe, Barclay’s boyfriend, is terrifying to behold in a battle of information.

Movie goes better, game night even better still, and soon Indrid is hanging out with the others more days than not. He even helps Aubrey design and draw up some last minute posters for her show.

It’s the morning after opening night (and the following celebration) that his phone alerts him to a new email. The subject simply says “Bug.”

It’s from Duck.

All it contains is a photo, clearly taken at night on a phone, of a moth with bright pink wings and red eyespots.

He types, Neat! Then, after a moment, adds What species?

He doesn’t expect a response. But the next day, another email awaits him.

Dr. Graslie (Entomologist here) thinks it’s Leucanella apollinairei. Here’s someone more familiar

This picture is of a small crustacean. Indrid smiles; it’s a crawdad.

He replies Careful, maybe it followed you all the way from Kepler. Seen anything else interesting?

This time he waits two days for a response, but it opens with, sorry, internet is real spotty. Big shock, I know.

This is followed by two paragraphs describing trees. Indrid has never been so happy to hear about root systems.

Soon Duck is emailing him whenever he can. At first, it’s only about the wildlife, the field work he’s doing, and the terror of trying to practice hygiene in the middle of a rainforest. Slowly, other details appear; the things he’s homesick for, the ways in which he and Minerva are starting to grate at each other (you’d think being in the middle of nowhere’d get you some peace and quiet. Nope).

Indrid responds with updates from school, pictures of the outings he and the others go on, news about the promo art several places in town have hired him to do after seeing the posters for Aubrey’s act. Says he hopes Minerva and Duck are able to work things out.

Winter break comes sooner than seems possible, and he assumes the next time he sees Duck will be when they’re home visiting their folks.

Which is why, when he’s sitting at home reading after his last final, the door opening alarms him (Dani has already moved out). That is, until he glimpses the future.

“Duck?” He calls softly.

His friend appears in the doorway, luggage left behind him in the entryway.

“Hey, ‘Drid.”

“I, ah, assumed you’d be staying with Minerva until you could officially move out.”

Duck shakes his head, “I ain’t movin anywhere. Unless you want me to.”

“No.” Indrid fidgets with the agate, tucked safely in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“We, uh, we broke up. Minerva and me. It was, uh, mutual, though she was the one to pull the trigger, so to speak. Just found there were some things we didn’t agree on. Weren’t compatible on neither.”

“I’m sorry.”

Duck snorts what’s almost a laugh.

“I mean it.” He stands, voices earnest and gentle, “I know you were happy with her, and the relationship meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah” Duck sounds tired, “It did. But it turns out another one meant more.”

Indrid stops moving. Also, possibly, breathing.

“I…well, I sent you that first email instead of apologizin because I was still kinda hurt, but I realized I missed you. I didn’t want you gone from my life. And the longer I was gone, the more times I turned around wanting to tell you somethin and was sad you weren’t there, got excited at the thought of showin you somethin or sending you pictures, I realized I did plenty to fuck things up. And that’s before we get to the fact I was dreamin about you most nights.”

Duck steps awkwardly forward, until they’re toe to toe, “I missed you, ‘Drid. So fuckin much. And I’m sorry for the things I said durin the fight.”

“As am I. I ought to have thought how my confession would appear to you. I’m sorry I did not.”

“I guess, what I’m tryin to say is I feel like a real dipshit for havin to go halfway across the globe to realize what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Duck?”

Duck cups his cheeks, and then Indrid is tipping forward, into a kiss he’s dreamed of for years. His arms close around Duck’s shoulders, his lips taste chapstick and cold night air. He pulls away to breathe and gets only an instant to do so, Duck chasing his mouth for kiss after kiss, his eagerness sending them tripping onto the bed.

Indrid lands on top of Duck, hears him whimper when his name leaves Indrid’s lips.

“‘Drid, ‘Drid, please-”

“Yes” He kisses his cheek, “whatever it is, the answer is yes.”

Duck giggles into his neck, “You got no idea how bad I wanna make a goof on that. But, fuck, ‘Drid, I can’t, all I want is you.”

“Likewise.” He purrs, hooking Ducks leg around his own, nuzzling up his neck before attacking his lips with kisses.

“That, that a rock in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?” Duck tugs on his lower lip.

“Both. See?” He produces the agate, holds it where Duck can get a look at it.

“Holy shit, is that the one I gave you a million years ago?”

“Indeed. It became a sort of grounding object, because it was pleasant to touch and reminded me of you. Later it morphed into a sort of good luck charm.”

Duck closes Indrid’s fist around the rock and kisses it, grins, “There, now it’s twice as lucky.”

Indrid holds him close, basks in the love radiating from him as he murmurs, “It’s not the luckiest thing in the room, though. That honor, I believe, belongs to you and I.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #reader request #college au #duck x indrid

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