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halothenthehorns · 7 months

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Chapter 3: THE UNDERWORLD SENDS ME A PRANK CALL

Happy Halloween! What a perfectly spooky chapter to kickstart this book!

We have been getting so much Disney PJO stuff I have not been able to put this fic down even though I usually read more on my off times than write. I have chapters predone! I am so excited for this!

Which you still don't get to read until every Monday!

PJOPJOPJO

Alex snatched the book away and ignored the slightly sticky feeling of Magnus's jam fingers lingering on there and how he kind of wanted to sniff it to see what flavor it was as he loudly yelled the new title.

"Why does it not surprise me Bart Simpson made it to hell," Percy nodded, chewing thoughtfully on his pen cap and looking at Nico for what could be going on. The splitting headache he immediately got for this effort quickly made that no fun at all.

"My question is does Percy fall for it?" Thalia was already giving him a tragic look of disappointment. "Please don't tell me you cut up a refrigerator because a shadow made you jump."

Alex waited for the snickering to subside before he started reading, it really was something to be patient for.

Nothing caps off the perfect morning like a long taxi ride with an angry girl.

"You didn't summon the blind ladies again did you?" Magnus looked queasy at just the thought.

"We weren't in as big a hurry as last time," Percy promised, rubbing his stomach at the reminder. "Annabeth gave me the same filthy look though like I stole their eyeball and we were speeding half the time while I clutched my seatbelt, so really, it wasn't that different. Made me miss Tyson."

"I'll scream random numbers at you if you like, really dig home that sense of Deja vu," Alex offered.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Percy promised.

I tried to talk to Annabeth, but she was acting like I'd just punched her grandmother.

"Rhea's done nothing to deserve that Percy," Will snorted, "or would it be Hera?" He muttered with his own cross-eyed look for trying to figure out which would get the title in this case.

"In some versions, Athena doesn't even have a mother, so Annabeth can't even be mad at him for punching someone who doesn't exist," Nico agreed.

"I thought we agreed not to talk about this!" Percy clutched at his ears in instant denial of how weird everything they said was.

"You brought it up," Thalia sided with them. "I'm personally more along the lines of laughing at you tracking down Dr. Chase's mom and punching her for not being around her grandkids enough."

"Next time, I'll think to myself where nobody else should hear, she was acting like I'd punched her best friend," Percy said triumphantly.

"Percy," Jason frowned in concern, "that's you. Why would you punch yourself in the face?"

"Argh," Percy bowed his head in defeat and Alex took pity on him and decided to keep going, despite how curious he was to see how deep Percy could keep digging himself.

All I managed to get out of her was that she'd had a monster infested spring in San Francisco; she'd come back to camp twice since Christmas but wouldn't tell me why (which kind of ticked me off, because she hadn't even told me she was in New York);

Magnus tried his best not to look accusingly at Percy, as Percy instantly shifted to his own concern and promised, "I found out about this in front of Sacks, I swear I didn't know. I sort of wanted a sack on my head when she told me."

Nobody bothered to laugh at the stupid joke, their worry for Annabeth clearly having hidden at least some of her hardships from Percy didn't make anyone feel better.

Percy sunk back into his seat bending his pen, his stomach rumbling for popcorn he'd deny himself now. Would she have told him, during the credits of the movie as they laughed about having put to much salt on their snack? Would she have given him details as they went back to his place, tried to stop denying how little she fit into the mortal world? His mom would have invited her in, just like always, and Annabeth would have inhaled blue cookies until Paul came over for dinner.

It was supposed to feel perfect.

and she'd learned nothing about the whereabouts of Nico di Angelo (long story).

"Am I?" Nico asked blankly, his mind to awash with shock that Percy was actually still looking for him at all. Especially six months later! He would have thought his name wouldn't pop up again until Geryon's farm at minimum.

"Took a whole book to explain it to me, and there's still plenty I didn't get," Percy shrugged, still staring at him kind of strangely like he half expected Nico to spontaneously start getting hearts in his eyes or something. "I still don't even know who this is supposed to be narrated to!" He finished in loud exasperation to the ocean in general.

Will bit down on his lip hard to stop himself asking Nico if he was okay. He didn't look it. He still had a dazed kind of expression like something was in his eye. Will certainly hadn't forgotten him, but then, he'd always done his best to never forget any kid that passed through camp. Jay Martin had loved to stitch and embroidered a beautiful flag for the Hermes cabin, Rory Wayler had loved swimming, Nico Di Angelo had loved Mythomagic, the list went on and on...

"Any word on Luke?" I asked.

She shook her head. I knew this was a touchy subject for her. Annabeth had always admired Luke, the former head counselor for Hermes who had betrayed us and joined the evil Titan Lord Kronos. She wouldn't admit it, but I knew she still liked him. When we'd fought Luke on Mount Tamalpais last winter, he'd somehow survived a fifty-foot fall off a cliff. Now, as far as I knew, he was still sailing around on his demon-infested cruise ship while his chopped-up Lord Kronos re-formed, bit by bit, in a golden sarcophagus, biding his time until he had enough power to challenge the Olympian gods.

"And you said I was a long story," Nico said, clearly unimpressed. "I could have summed up my shit twice as fast as that." He held up one finger, "find kids at boarding school," second finger that was suspiciously out of line, "leave one kid at camp," third finger, "Nico's sister went on quest with me and didn't come back," pinky finger, "now I think Nico wants me dead." He looked around at Percy daring him to contradict him. It was weirdly freeing and morbidly funny Percy was gazing back at him with a twitching mouth. He'd always thought he'd want to melt into the shadows permanently if Percy ever laughed at him, now here he was inviting it.

"You got me Nico," Percy chuckled, "Luke was just more worrisome and much more trouble, definitely needed more context for whichever idiot decided to pick up a book with a four on it first."

"I think you're important enough to get a paragraph Nico," Will grinned. "I think you should get a whole book next."

"Don't even joke about that," Nico looked at him in tragic betrayal.

In demigod-speak, we call this a "problem."

"I'm sure mortals would call that a problem too," Magnus assured from his end. "Nine out of ten things you ever come across would be a major problem."

"Your mom's the exception," Alex added helpfully like Percy had missed that.

"Yeah, I accept that," Percy sighed.

"Mount Tam is still overrun with monsters," Annabeth said. "I didn't dare go close, but I don't think Luke is up there. I think I would know if he was."

"Does she have a GPS tracker on him?" Thalia asked mildly. "Is she not sharing that information?" She could never mock her little sister about this to her face, but Annabeth wasn't here and that was a silly thing to say.

"I'm sure she has a wise ass answer for you that involves troops coagulating-"

"Congregating," Magnus sighed.

"-and weather patterns," Percy shrugged, but he didn't look much happier at Annabeth claiming that.

That didn't make me feel much better. "What about Grover?"

"He's at camp," she said. "We'll see him today."

"Why does she know more about what's going on with your best friend than you?" Jason frowned.

"He's not as good having drachma on him for IM'ing," Percy frowned, "he loses his pants to much. At least I'd probably know if he was in real trouble," he tapped the side of his head uneasily. He still got random cravings for cheese enchiladas and smiled delightedly at flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk like he never had before his empathy link, so he was sure that was still working fine.

"Did he have any luck? I mean, with the search for Pan?"

Annabeth fingered her bead necklace, the way she does when she's worried.

"You'll see," she said. But she didn't explain.

"That's a bad habit of hers," Magnus huffed.

"It doesn't seem very wise to constantly not be telling you everything!" Alex was mostly mocking but also annoyed about it too.

"It's a good thing she has a whole personality outside of her parent then," Percy rolled his eyes at them.

As we headed through Brooklyn, I used Annabeth's phone to call my mom. Half-bloods try not to use cell phones if we can avoid it, because broadcasting our voices is like sending up a flare to the monsters: Here I am! Please eat me now!

"I want to know who pays for that subscription now, her dad or Chiron?" Jason asked with a weird mix of concern for whoever it was. He felt like both meant well and were just inviting trouble.

"I'm going to call crap on this entire gaslighting community if Percy isn't attacked by a monster by the time he gets to camp," Alex said, completely nonplussed. "First Rachel name drops a bunch of monsters in the gym which is a no-no, now this, I think someone somewhere just started lying to make things more complicated to you guys and nobody's gotten to the truth of it yet."

"An investigation I'm sure we can gladly sick Annabeth on," Will snorted.

But I figured this call was important. I left a message on our home voice mail, trying to explain what had happened at Goode. I probably didn't do a very good job. I told my mom I was fine, she shouldn't worry, but I was going to stay at camp until things cooled down. I asked her to tell Paul Blofis I was sorry.

Percy breathed deeply through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth. He owed his mom so much more than a sorry. If Paul even answered the phone he imagined any number of hurtful things he could say to his mom about her delinquent son and things would end so badly because she defended him. Days like this he wished his mom had abandoned him at camp, she really would have been better off.

"Percy?" Magnus asked in concern. He knew that guilt ridden look the scarce few times he'd been in front of a mirror.

It drew everyone's attention though, and Percy really didn't want to hear a bunch of nice claims like his mom loved him and didn't regret it. He knew that, but it wasn't making him feel better.

"Mmm, yeah," Percy agreed, "just hoping Alex is wrong and we don't attract monsters." He made an impatient movement to keep the reading going.

We rode in silence after that. The city melted away until we were off the expressway and rolling through the countryside of northern Long Island, past orchards and wineries and fresh produce stands.

Will smiled to himself, remembering the first time he'd come through this way on the back of a swan. The sun had just been starting to rise, and he'd been so pleasantly surprised and in awe to see how beautiful this landscape was after his ride had skirted all of those huge never ending buildings of the city.

I stared at the phone number Rachel Elizabeth Dare had scrawled on my hand. I knew it was crazy, but I was tempted to call her. Maybe she could help me understand what the empousa had been talking about—the camp burning, my friends imprisoned. And why had Kelli exploded into flames?

"Annabeth stops talking to you for five minutes and you want to decompress with a mortal?" Jason didn't sound insulting, just very dubious of how helpful that would really be.

"You met her," Percy needlessly reminded, "she's got this, this way of making you think she knows what's going on."

Jason nodded in agreement to that, she had a powerful aura to her.

I knew monsters never truly died. Eventually—maybe weeks, months, or years from now—

"Or in Percy's luck, five minutes later," Will oh so helpfully inserted.

"Thank you Will, we all so needed that reminder," he sighed.

Kelli would re-form out of the primordial nastiness seething in the Underworld. But still, monsters didn't usually let themselves get destroyed so easily. If she really was destroyed.

The taxi exited on Route 25A. We headed through the woods along the North Shore until a low ridge of hills appeared on our left. Annabeth told the driver to pull over on Farm Road 3.141, at the base of Half-Blood Hill.

The driver frowned. "There ain't nothing here, miss. You sure you want out?"

"Yes, please," Annabeth handed him a roll of mortal cash, and the driver decided not to argue.

"I need a book of excuses for when they do argue though," Alex's twitching lips already promised he was making up his own anyway.

"Bad ass scavenger hunt," Magnus said off the top of his head.

"The forest is haunted and I'm out here scrying for attention," Thalia smirked.

"My camp is on the other side, but it's invitation only," Jason said in a very posh voice.

"I'd tell you but I'd have to kill you," Percy snickered.

"This is the only place my mom lets me have band practice," Will chuckled.

Nico almost waited a beat to long. Nobody sat around and watched everybody else to see if someone had something to say before they kept on reading, especially not Alex. But the goofy thought sprung to mind, and he made himself say it before it was just interrupting and out of context. "Secret nerd convention. That sends most people running."

"All highly acceptable answers I will be stealing," Alex nodded his thanks.

Annabeth and I hiked to the crest of the hill. The young guardian dragon was dozing,

"Because that's still just a casual thing," Magnus rolled his eyes. He wondered if Zoe had spent her spare time there up cuddling with Peleus while missing Ladon.

coiled around the pine tree, but he lifted his coppery head as we approached and let Annabeth scratch under his chin. Steam hissed out his nostrils like from a teakettle, and he went cross-eyed with pleasure.

Magnus's heart did melt quite a bit hearing that though. He smiled hopefully this was the only dragon he'd have to hear about from now on. At least he sounded like a cute, friendly one.

"Hey, Peleus," Annabeth said. "Keeping everything safe?"

The last time I'd seen the dragon he'd been six feet long. Now he was at least twice that, and as thick around as the tree itself. Above his head, on the lowest branch of the pine tree, the Golden Fleece shimmered, its magic protecting the camp's borders from invasion. The dragon seemed relaxed, like everything was okay. Below us, Camp Half-Blood looked peaceful— green fields, forest, shiny white Greek buildings. The four-story farmhouse we called the Big House sat proudly in the midst of the strawberry fields. To the north, past the beach, the Long Island Sound glittered in the sunlight.

Still...something felt wrong. There was tension in the air, as if the hill itself were holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen.

"I've been doing that since we wound up down here," Magnus promised.

"Same," Nico muttered.

"Liars," Alex scoffed, "you two would have passed out by now, nobody can hold their breath that long."

"You got them Alex," Will chuckled while Magnus and Nico exchanged exasperated looks.

We walked down into the valley and found the summer session in full swing. Most of the campers had arrived last Friday, so I already felt out of it.

"You have still yet to get to camp at any normal time," Jason said in fascination. "At this rate I'd believe you not getting expelled before you wound up there first day with nothing bad going on."

Percy wanted to argue the point, and knew he couldn't.

The satyrs were playing their pipes in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow with woodland magic. Campers were having flying horseback lessons, swooping over the woods on their pegasi. Smoke rose from the forges, and hammers rang as kids made their own weapons for Arts & Crafts.

The Athena and Demeter teams were having a chariot race around the track, and over at the canoe lake some kids in a Greek trireme were fighting a large orange sea serpent. A typical day at camp.

"Why is it orange?" Alex squinted suspiciously. "Was it there first and that's why you picked your camp colors?"

"One of my siblings actually put it in there last weekend," Will shrugged. "Lee was betting Michael he couldn't shoot the sucker off a squid for some reason, but they still had to drag it back to the ocean when they were done."

"I need to talk to Clarisse," Annabeth said.

I stared at her as if she'd just said I need to eat a large, smelly boot.

"Finding Clarisse is kind of like that," Will agreed. "You're usually left wondering why she's there, where did she come from, and how do I get her to go back."

"I hope Annabeth at least tried to add hot sauce to it," Alex snorted.

"What for?"

Clarisse from the Ares cabin was one of my least favorite people.

"Like on a scale of one to ten, how does she rank compared to her dad, and Luke, and that smelly old guy you're convinced is dead on the back of a bus?" Alex asked clinically.

Percy honestly deliberated with himself for a moment before saying, "the smelly guy wins with a three, he's at least quiet and doesn't belch, then Clarisse is a four."

"Good to know for future notice," Alex grinned.

She was a mean, ungrateful bully. Her dad, the war god, wanted to kill me. She tried to beat me to a pulp on a regular basis. Other than that, she was just great.

"And she loves toilets," Jason smirked, "why do you never mention that?"

"Because I'd like to forget about it!" Percy groaned.

"Oh, well, that's not happening," Jason scoffed.

"We've been working on something," Annabeth said. "I'll see you later."

"Are you guys installing another deadly game?" Magnus looked very weary of what this team up could cause. "Giant chess that kills people? Monster simulators?"

"Those sound awesome," Percy grinned.

Magnus looked like Will could stitch the word dread into his forehead.

"Working on what?"

Annabeth glanced toward the forest.

"I'll tell Chiron you're here," she said. "He'll want to talk to you before the hearing."

"What hearing?"

But she jogged down the path toward the archery field without looking back.

"Yeah," I muttered. "Great talking with you, too."

Jason looked like he was trying to eat that mangey old boot named Clarisse. "One of these days we're going to have to strap Annabeth to a chair and make her hear what we've been through with all this cryptic nonsense."

Percy looked like he was deeply considering it himself and Thalia swallowed her own horror at how that could possibly go.

As I made my way through camp, I said hi to some of my friends.

Percy waited for the crack from any of them, their mock shock that he even had friends. It didn't come. Of the two most likely to do so, Alex was reading eagerly for details, probably waiting for something to explode, and Jason had that mystified look on his face like someone said a pink elephant was just casually flying around like usual whenever his Camp was first described. Percy couldn't wait for these books to be done so he could just casually see them around camp too.

In the Big House's driveway, Connor and Travis Stoll from the Hermes cabin were hot-wiring the camps SUV. Silena Beauregard, the head counselor for Aphrodite, waved at me from her Pegasus as she flew past. I looked for Grover, but I didn't see him. Finally I wandered into the sword arena, where I usually go when I'm in a bad mood. Practicing always calms me down.

"You only mentioned four friends," Jason snorted, "when are you going to do a roll call of the whole place?"

"I'm not a psychopath who keeps count of these things," Percy sighed.

Maybe that's because swordplay is one thing I can actually understand.

"I'm very disappointed Annabeth apparently hasn't sat you down and taught you the physics and fluid dynamics behind sword fighting now," Magnus grinned.

"I know where you sleep," Percy jabbed at the rooms beyond, "you will not put that idea in her head!"

Magnus didn't think it so funny, since Percy would have to hunt him down in the streets when they got back to follow through on the threat, but he didn't know that.

I walked into the amphitheater and my heart almost stopped. In the middle of the arena floor, with its back to me, was the biggest hellhound I'd ever seen.

Percy's heart bounced around in his chest like a rubber ball ricocheting off each rib. That dog- hellhound!... he knew...her? His hand wasn't even trying to reach for his pocket now, he just sat looking at the book with a strange expression on his face like someone was trying to describe a giraffe to him.

I mean, I've seen some pretty big hellhounds. One the size of a rhino tried to kill me when I was twelve. But this hellhound was bigger than a tank. I had no idea how it had gotten past the camp's magic boundaries.

Will vividly remembered when Quintus had first had her over the property line. She'd been in the shadows of the forest, just glowing red eyes this stranger was promising them all was a harmless girl. Then Quintus had opened a jar of peanut butter, and she'd come bounding out, tail wagging like a fighter engine's propeller. The jar got stuck on her tongue as she tried to lap it all up at once.

The Stoll's had laughed, Katie had squealed and made apples fall on everyone's head, and Clarisse's eyes had gleamed with a challenge as she went for her spear; before Quintus began scratching her ears and promising them all she was a harmless softie and his pet as her tail felled trees around them making dryads pop out and shriek in shock.

Most of the kids scattered and locked their doors that night, one girl who everybody swore was a child of Echidna asked if she could rub Mrs. O'Leary's belly. It hadn't even been a blip in their life by next week honestly.

It looked right at home, lying on its belly, growling contentedly as it chewed the head off a combat dummy. It hadn't noticed me yet, but if I made a sound, I knew it would sense me. There was no time to go for help. I pulled out Riptide and uncapped it.

Nico winced. He knew it was silly and obviously didn't work, but he was fond of Mrs. O'Leary. She was Percy's dog, but still one of the very few animals who actively liked him whether he wanted her to or not, and he really could summon her down here or wherever he wanted and she'd most likely come, if he wasn't worried about her drowning.

"Yaaaaah!" I charged.

"I should not make a noise while attacking this monster or it will kill me," Alex raised one hand, then leveled the other palm up, "I shall scream like a lunatic while lunging to attack it," he began moving both up and down like scales. "Makes perfect sense to me!"

"Battle reflexes," Percy said with almost a straight face.

I brought down the blade on the monster's enormous backside when out of nowhere another sword blocked my strike.

CLANG!

The hellhound pricked up its ears. "WOOF!"

I jumped back and instinctively struck at the swordsman—a gray-haired man in Greek armor. He parried my attack with no problem.

"That's not the guy who trained Luke, is it," Jason shifted around in distress who this new guy was who could also immediately keep up with Percy.

"Luke learned with me on the streets, no finer tutor," Thalia grimly corrected. It was the kind of learn or die technique that Percy still didn't have as much training in as them. "This is someone else." She wasn't looking forward to hear the tale of Daedalus, a story that had made Annabeth flinch through the majority of the retelling with scant details.

"Whoa there!" he said. "Truce!"

"You're a very lucky guy Percy," Magnus promised him, "there's not many people who wouldn't decide to murder you for attacking their dog."

Percy still looked a little to dumbfounded somebody was defending that massive monster to respond, but he had no heart to argue even if he could. He'd still never drawn his pen, let alone his sword in here, he'd instinctively been surprised at his past self wanting to attack her.

"WOOF!" The hellhound's bark shook the arena.

"That's a hellhound!" I shouted.

"Was she having an identity crisis?" Alex asked in mock concern. "Did she think she was a harpy? That's not really for you to decide Percy."

He threw his hands up in exasperation already. There really was no point arguing that one.

"She's harmless," the man said. "That's Mrs. O'Leary."

Alex smacked his lips together a couple times as he thought about that one. "That's an acceptable name," he decided, leaving the rest of them now vaguely concerned what he considered their names.

"Never understood why people name their pet Mrs. or Mr. anything," Magnus admitted, "who are they married to? Why are we being proper to the critter that licks its junk?"

"Gender affirming care," Alex said in that weirdly serious way where you weren't actually sure if he was messing with you or not. Then he kept reading like nothing had happened.

I blinked. "Mrs. O'Leary?"

At the sound of her name, the hellhound barked again. I realized she wasn't angry. She was excited. She nudged the soggy, badly chewed target dummy toward the swordsman.

"Aw, I think she wants to play fetch," Jason looked like he had a very bright light shining in his eyes. How did this camp manage to get weirder every time he heard of it? They now had pet hellhounds running around. Between her and Percy's brother the cyclops this place seemed like an oasis...so why did it always sound so unwelcome to him?

"Good girl," the man said. With his free hand he grabbed the armored manikin by the neck and heaved it toward the bleachers. "Get the Greek! Get the Greek!"

Mrs. O'Leary bounded after her prey and pounced on the dummy, flattening its armor. She began chewing on its helmet.

"That's a very good trick," Will nodded along. "I'm sure it won't come in handy for anything."

"It's a good thing you never wear armor so she can't confuse you," Nico smirked.

"I slip her her favorite treat, nobody else realizes she loves apples," Will grinned, before he made an exaggerated 'oops' face and put his hand against his mouth.

Nico smiled back at this oddball, his sense of humor was so strange and Nico always wanted to keep watching for more.

The swordsman smiled dryly. He was in his fifties, I guess, with short gray hair and a clipped gray beard. He was in good shape for an older guy.

He wore black mountain-climbing pants and a bronze breastplate strapped over an orange camp T-shirt. At the base of his neck was a strange mark, a purplish blotch like a birthmark or a tattoo, but before I could make out what it was, he shifted his armor straps and the mark disappeared under his collar.

Percy rubbed uncomfortably at the spot on himself, his brain unpleasantly informing him to remember that. He wished his brain would shut up with its unhelpful advice.

"Mrs. O'Leary is my pet," he explained. "I couldn't let you stick a sword in her rump, now, could I? That might have scared her."

"I hope she doesn't pee the floor when she gets scared," Thalia said, "because guess who would have to clean it up."

Percy debated for a moment if it was worth getting the oracle so pissed at him again it would go for another midnight stroll to this place instead. He could blame someone getting the piss scared out of them instead and be exempt.

"Who are you?"

"Promise not to kill me if I put my sword away?"

"I guess."

"Still on track with Percy nearly killing every person he's met," Jason muttered.

"And you were surprised he wasn't listing off a dozen friends," Thalia snorted.

He sheathed his sword and held out his hand. "Quintus."

"His name means five?" Jason's lips twitched in amusement. "Most half-bloods are an only child, but I really hope this guys parents got tired of coming up with names after the fourth kid and just went with that."

Alex threw his head back laughing and Percy shook his head as he grinned along.

I shook his hand. It was as rough as a sandpaper.

"Percy Jackson," I said. "Sorry about—How did you, um—"

"Get a hellhound for a pet? Long story, involving many close calls with death and quite a few giant chew toys.

"That was not much of an explanation," Alex looked hurt this guy hadn't launched off into an instruction manual of how to get his own.

"He's not much of a good story teller," Nico said sardonically. "I can find a pup later, if you really want to raise one." He'd spoken without thinking, he'd gone so long in here with no one freaking out over his mere presence being a death sentence, let alone a casual gesture that was meant as no threat.

By the time he braced himself for Alex to scream about strangling him for summoning a monster, he was already smiling in delight like Nico had just offered him his own close shave with death and a few giant chew toys.

I'm the new sword instructor, by the way.

"There was an old sword instructor?" Magnus asked wearily, already knowing he wasn't going to love this insane story.

"Nope," Will shrugged, "unless you counted, um," he stopped and didn't finish, but a name hung oddly in the air that rhymed with fluke. "No official teachers aside from Chiron," he finished all in a rush.

Alex leaned close to Magnus and murmured, "this place can't keep a competent adult anymore than Percy can stay in school. Ten bucks says he's dead by the end of this summer."

Magnus smiled and laughed just because that's what he was supposed to do. It's not like he could honor giving over a measly ten dollars on the silly wager.

Helping out Chiron while Mr. D is away."

"He's gone?" Percy, Alex, Magnus, and Jason all yelped in varying degrees of shock and pleasure.

"Away," Will corrected with a sigh. "Temporary," he emphasized, not looking particularly pleased.

"Last time he left was because of that winter solstice thing though," Magnus looked far from pleased at this temporary great news. "What could be so important Zeus would lift his punishment again?"

Percy leaned forward anxiously in his seat for that answer too, he knew it probably wasn't a good one.

"Oh." I tried not to stare as Mrs. O'Leary ripped off the target dummy's shield with the arm still attached and shook it like a Frisbee. "Wait, Mr. D is away?"

"You know, that's fair Percy," Will said, "anybody would find that distracting no matter the news." It would have been more believable if Will had said that while trying to stifle a laugh, but Percy appreciated the attempt anyways.

"Yes, well...busy times. Even Dionysus must help out. He's gone to visit some old friends. Make sure they're on the right side. I probably shouldn't say more than that."

Magnus didn't seem to find that answer all that cracked up. "Does he get them drunk and promise them free trips to the casino if they stay on his side of the war?" The wine god couldn't get through a conversation without wanting to kill half his charges, what was he out there doing trying to be a liaison?

"Mr. D wasn't born a god," Thalia informed. "He's a younger god, and as such he has pull with quite a few who fit into that category. Others like Artemis were talking with the older gods, each had their own whom they connected with and tried to find out their position. Athena was the one to talk Zeus into using all those at his disposal."

Jason was in awe of her having a goddesses first hand account of even the most brief meeting like that. The instinct kicked in of trying to scold himself, that wasn't information he should be privy to and he should have just reminded Magnus the gods knew what they were doing. The idea lingered less and less the more of this he heard.

If Dionysus was gone, that was the best news I'd had all day. He was only our camp director because Zeus had sent him here as a punishment for chasing some off-limits wood nymph. He hated the campers and tried to make our lives miserable. With him away, this summer might actually be cool. On the other hand, if Dionysus had gotten off his butt and actually started helping the gods recruit against the Titan threat, things must be looking pretty bad.

"It's good to hear you think of both sides, that's a great skill Percy," Jason sounded pleased, but also just as exhausted as Percy felt about the duality of this situation.

Off to my left, there was a loud BUMP. Six wooden crates the size of picnic tables were stacked nearby, and they were rattling. Mrs. O'Leary cocked her head and bounded toward them.

"Whoa, girl!" Quintus said. "Those aren't for you." He distracted her with the bronze shield Frisbee.

"I really hope those aren't for me either," Percy said like he really hoped somebody would toss the book like a frisbee and he could run around without a care in the world, for once.

The crates thumped and shook. There were words printed on the sides, but with my dyslexia they took me a few minutes to decipher:

TRIPLE G RANCH

"What do the G's stand for?" Magnus asked wearily, already knowing the results could range anywhere from gross to gore.

He got silence.

"Guys, what do the G's stand for?" Magnus repeated a tad more urgently.

"Enjoy your ignorance while it lasts," was all Nico would finally answer.

FRAGILE

THIS END UP

Along the bottom, in smaller letters: OPEN WITH CARE. TRIPLE G RANCH IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR PROPERTY DAMAGE, MAIMING, OR EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DEATHS.

Magnus slumped into his seat and groaned as if that maiming was happening to him just hearing about it. "I hate this guy," he already decided, "I don't care if there are bunnies in that box, nothing bought from a ranch that big is going to be good!"

"I'm sort of hoping it's chickens," Alex grinned, "I want to see someone get the great idea about Jurassic Park gone wrong."

"Well I know who I'm never going to vote to be the next sword instructor," Percy frowned at the horror Alex would wrought with one second of power.

"Don't be ridiculous Percy, I don't use a sword," he scoffed.

"What's in the boxes?" I asked.

"A little surprise," Quintus said. "Training activity for tomorrow night. You'll love it."

"I don't believe him," Thalia mock whispered.

"We don't have to be best friends to agree with that," Percy groaned.

"Uh, okay," I said, though I wasn't sure about the "excruciatingly painful death" part.

"Is there a way to be okay with that part?" Nico snorted. He could cause it with ease and he wasn't actively 'okay' with it either.

"Healthy coping mechanisms?" Will didn't sound so sure though.

Quintus threw the bronze shield, and Mrs. O'Leary lumbered after it.

"You young ones need more challenges. They didn't have camps like this when I was a boy."

Alex curled his lips around his teeth and imitated a wizened old man voice, "back in my day!" He even mock waved a cane around for a second.

"Yeah," Percy snickered along, "I bet he had to write on stone tablets and walk five miles up hill both ways to go to school in the snow."

"You—you're a half-blood?" I didn't mean to sound surprised, but I'd never seen an old demigod before.

"I think that's more sad than anything," Thalia frowned, even as she tried to imagine it herself. Luke was one of the rare few who didn't get immortality as a teenager and almost got to twenty.

Quintus chuckled. "Some of us do survive into adulthood, you know. Not all of us are the subject of terrible prophecies."

"No, I didn't know that," Percy said grumpily. It certainly exploded his brain for a second before he caught up with the rest of what Quintus had said. "Wait, does everybody know about my prophecy?"

"It's the worst kept secret at camp," Will agreed, "right up there with who smuggles in the good stuff and who's dating who."

"Great," Percy groaned.

"You know about my prophecy?"

"I've heard a few things."

I wanted to ask what few things, but just then Chiron clip-clopped into the arena. "Percy, there you are!"

He must've just come from teaching archery. He had a quiver and bow slung over his #1 CENTAUR T-shirt. He'd trimmed his curly brown hair and beard for the summer, and his lower half, which was a white stallion, was flecked with mud and grass.

"Look at you playing detective over here," Jason grinned.

"He does have good powers of perception," Thalia agreed with an eye roll, she'd still like it if those would stop being used on trivial details like Chiron's activities and more on getting a clue in social situations.

"I see you've met our new instructor." Chiron's tone was light, but there was an uneasy look in his eyes.

"Because of Quintus?" Magnus asked wearily, "or because of what he needs you for?"

"When I find out I'll let you know," Percy squirmed in his seat just as uneasily for whatever the answer was. He hadn't even gotten to hack up a dummy, Mrs. O'Leary had slobbered on all the good ones.

"Quintus, do you mind if I borrow Percy?"

"Not at all, Master Chiron."

"No need to call me 'Master'," Chiron said, though he sounded sort of pleased.

Will looked a little chagrined he'd never thought to call him that, meanwhile Percy raised an unimpressed brow at anyone saying that.

"Come, Percy. We have much to discuss."

I took one more glance at Mrs. O'Leary, who was now chewing off the target dummy's legs.

"Hopefully not foreshadowing," Jason twitched and hoped that hellhound was as well trained as the swordsman.

"If it is, a shadow traveling monster would be the culprit," Percy agreed, but the words sounded all wrong on his tongue. Yet his unease for this introduction somehow all still lingered.

He didn't notice, as usual, Nico wincing at Percy calling his powers weird.

"Well, see you," I told Quintus.

As we were walking away, I whispered to Chiron, "Quintus seemed kind of—"

"Mysterious?" Chiron suggested. "Hard to read?"

"Yeah."

Chiron nodded. "A very qualified half-blood. Excellent swordsman, I just wish I understood..."

"You could feed Chiron this book and he'd spit out less horse shit," Alex scowled.

"At least he seems better than Tantalus," but Magnus knew that bar was pathetically low, and Quintus would probably still trip on it.

Whatever he was going to say, he apparently changed his mind.

"First things first, Percy. Annabeth told me you met some empousai."

"Yeah." I told him about the fight at Goode, and how Kelli had exploded into flames.

"Mm," Chiron said. "The more powerful ones can do that. She did not die, Percy. She simply escaped. It is not good that the she-demons are stirring."

"We were all well aware it's not good anything's stirring," Jason said from all the way back to that talk with Artemis.

"And we still haven't gotten any other kind of recipe," Percy agreed.

"What were they doing there?" I asked. "Waiting for me?"

"Possibly," Chiron frowned. "It is amazing you survived. Their powers of deception...almost any male hero would've fallen under their spell and been devoured."

"Almost any male hero," Alex looked extremely interested to test those limits.

"I didn't stop to ask about attracting the rainbow of it all, sorry Alex," Percy rolled his eyes.

"I would've been," I admitted. "Except for Rachel."

Chiron nodded. "Ironic to be saved by a mortal, yet we owe her a debt.

Thalia bit her lip against smiling. It turned into a pretty mutually beneficial relationship in the end.

What the empousa said about an attack on camp—we must speak of this further. But for now, come, we should get to the woods. Grover will want you there."

"Where?"

"At his formal hearing," Chiron said grimly. "The Council of Cloven Elders is meeting now to decide his fate."

Percy made such a loud groaning noise, the others checked the floor for any new cracks. "I've been back for hours and he's about to die, again! Can my best friend just go one time without almost dying!"

"Maybe they're voting on his fate over something less dramatic than his life," Magnus offered without much hope. "Like his coffee intake."

Percy didn't think he was right, but he gave him a nod of thanks all the same.

Chiron said we needed to hurry, so I let him give me a ride on his back.

"You let him!" Magnus went cross-eyed in wonder. "You just casually rode on the back of a centaur!" He couldn't even answer himself why this was so fascinating when he'd now known Chiron existed for days.

"It wasn't something I was comfortable with," Percy promised. He'd never even gotten a piggy back ride from anyone before, not counting the monster boar, and as far as he knew, nobody at Camp casually rode around on Chiron, so it wasn't something he'd ever wanted to do and stand out more.

As we galloped past the cabins, I glanced at the dining hall—an open-air Greek pavilion on a hill overlooking the sea. It was the first time I'd seen the place since last summer, and it brought back bad memories.

Nico cringed into his seat and gripped his sword.

Alex made a little huff noise and kept reading, just like that.

Percy did look at him this time though, and the expression was mingled pity with still plenty of weary concern. It wasn't the bright, shining acceptance he hated himself for wanting, but it wasn't murdery, 'can't take my eyes off your untrustworthy Underworld coat,' either, so Nico forced himself not to say anything too.

Chiron plunged into the woods. Nymphs peeked out of the trees to watch us pass. Large shapes rustled in the shadows—monsters that were stocked in here as a challenge to the campers.

"You really should just call it the Forbidden Forest, make it the epitome of obvious they want you guys to all vanish in the night," Magnus shook his head.

Percy looked interested in the idea while Will opened his mouth in a silent scream of even more kids going in there!

I thought I knew the forest pretty well after playing capture the flag here for two summers, but Chiron took me a way I didn't recognize, through a tunnel of old willow trees, past a little waterfall, and into a glade blanketed with wildflowers.

"Percy, you haven't seen the half of that place," Thalia promised.

"The correct answer to that is, adventure time," Alex informed him.

Percy had to quickly wipe the smile off his face as his first thought had been, Exploring with Annabeth Time. The place would have made a fun picnic spot.

A bunch of satyrs were sitting in a circle in the grass. Grover stood in the middle, facing three really old, really fat satyrs who sat on topiary thrones shaped out of rose bushes. I'd never seen the three old satyrs before, but I guessed they must be the Council of Cloven Elders.

Alex sounded very much like he was getting trampled by a goat. Percy knew he wouldn't have sounded much better, he didn't take well to authority, and now Grover was obviously in trouble for something he didn't do. Grover had an alibi, him!

Grover seemed to be telling them a story. He twisted the bottom of his Tshirt, shifting nervously on his goat hooves. He hadn't changed much since last winter, maybe because satyrs age half as fast as humans. His acne had flared up. His horns had gotten a little bigger so they just stuck out over his curly hair. I realized with a start that I was taller than he was now.

"Poor guy," Nico looked almost concerned, "he's already got enough troubles without taking years for a growth spurt."

"The horns were kind of cool, but yeah, would not want to be a satyr just for that," Percy nodded.

It was a casual, silly little thing to agree on, but Nico still smiled in surprise there was a first that didn't make everything feel so tragically doomed. He'd already known they both liked Grover though, so he was probably being weird again.

Standing off to one side of the circle were Annabeth, another girl I'd never seen before, and Clarisse. Chiron dropped me next to them.

Clarisse's stringy brown hair was tied back with a camouflage bandanna. If possible, she looked even buffer, like she'd been working out. She glared at me and muttered, "Punk," which must've meant she was in a good mood. Usually she says hello by trying to kill me.

"Happy days!" Jason looked cheered at least. Maybe she was in a good enough mood she'd even tell what she'd been up to last winter and only slightly maim Percy by the end.

Annabeth had her arm around the other girl, who looked like she'd been crying. She was small—petite, I guess you'd call it—with wispy hair the color of amber and a pretty, elfish face. She wore a green chiton and laced sandals, and she was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "It's going terribly," she sniffled.

"No, no," Annabeth patted her shoulders. "He'll be fine, Juniper."

Annabeth looked at me and mouthed the words Grover's girlfriend.

"I've tried lip reading a couple times," Magnus looked at Percy in surprise. "I was curious how Hearth does it. It's harder than you'd think. That could have been anything from mowers year-land to going golf-fiend."

"I'll stick with my guess," Percy assured, even if the idea boggled his mind just as much as the other two options.

At least I thought that's what she said, but that didn't make any sense.

"Grover can't have a social life outside of you?" Thalia snorted in surprise. "He's been chasing tree nymphs since before you were born, one was bound to take pity on him." She was personally glad, it made his weird admiration of her and her sisters a lot more tame on at least one more satyr.

Grover with a girlfriend? Then I looked at Juniper more closely, and I realized her ears were slightly pointed. Her eyes, instead of being red from crying, were tinged green, the color of chlorophyll. She was a tree nymph— a dryad.

"Is that better or worse than a half-blood dating him?" Magnus asked curiously. "Is that even a thing?"

"Everything's a thing," Alex said with high confidence and great indifference to the answer as he kept reading before anyone could say otherwise.

"Master Underwood!" the council member on the right shouted, cutting off whatever Grover was trying to say. "Do you seriously expect us to believe this?"

"Yes!" Percy said robustly at once. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew his best friend wasn't a liar. Even when he needed to be.

"B-but Silenus," Grover stammered. "It's the truth!"

The Council guy, Silenus, turned to his colleagues and muttered something. Chiron cantered up to the front and stood next to them. I remembered he was an honorary member of the council, but I'd never thought about it much. The elders didn't look very impressive. They reminded me of the goats in a petting zoo—huge bellies, sleepy expressions, and glazed eyes that couldn't see past the next handful of goat chow. I wasn't sure why Grover seemed so nervous.

"You mouth off to gods," Jason reminded him in exasperation, "I feel like if I tried to explain the concept of an authority figure to you, you'd defenestrate me."

"Yes, yes I would, and I'm not even going to ask what that means," Percy nodded.

Silenus tugged his yellow polo shirt over his belly and adjusted himself on his rosebush throne. "Master Underwood, for six months—six months— we have been hearing these scandalous claims that you heard the wild god Pan speak."

"Why is that, scandalous?" Magnus asked like he was missing the obvious. "Haven't they been looking for this guy since the dawn of time? Why are they not building him a thrown of orchids?"

"Don't know, but I hope that rosebush was stabbing his tail," Percy scowled.

"But I did!"

"Impudence!" said the elder on the left.

"Now, Maron," Chiron said. "Patience."

"Patience, indeed!" Maron said. "I've had it up to my horns with this nonsense. As if the wild god would speak to...to him."

Percy looked ready to storm up there and drown this guy in the saltiest goat feed he could find, but the bizarre mental image of that old goat eating his way out before he could manage flashed through his mind had him hesitating in here same as in that clearing so much Thalia didn't even have to give him a warning.

Juniper looked like she wanted to charge the old satyr and beat him up, but Annabeth and Clarisse held her back. "Wrong fight, girlie," Clarisse muttered. "Wait."

I don't know what surprised me more: Clarisse holding someone back from a fight, or the fact that she and Annabeth, who despised each other, almost seemed like they were working together.

"I always knew they'd make a badass team up," Jason looked in awe their powers combined were already saving a dryad, they could save the quest from the next disaster too.

"I have so many questions," Percy looked five sentences away from drilling his fingers into his skull in hopes something would make sense.

"For six months," Silenus continued, "we have indulged you, Master Underwood. We let you travel. We allowed you to keep your searcher's license. We waited for you to bring proof of your preposterous claim. And what have you found in six months of travel?"

"I just need more time," Grover pleaded.

"Nothing!" the elder in the middle chimed in. "You have found nothing."

"But, Leneus—"

Silenus raised his hand. Chiron leaned in and said something to the satyrs.

The satyrs didn't look happy. They muttered and argued among themselves, but Chiron said something else, and Silenus sighed. He nodded reluctantly.

"Master Underwood," Silenus announced, "we will give you one more chance."

"Is Chiron the voice of reason in every room he's in?" Will looked sort of disappointed he'd had to step in there. It was depressing to think how many satyr's had their dreams shattered before this moment.

Grover brightened. "Thank you!"

"One more week."

"Clearly he wasn't being loud enough!" Percy snapped.

"What? But sir! That's impossible!"

"One more week, Master Underwood. And then, if you cannot prove your claims, it will be time for you to pursue another career. Something to suit your dramatic talents. Puppet theater, perhaps. Or tap dancing."

"I bet Grover would be great at both of those and still find Pan," Alex sniffed. "Can this Silenus say the same?" His tone very much doubted Silenus could get his hind off that throne.

"But sir, I—I can't lose my searcher's license. My whole life—"

"This meeting of the council is adjourned," Silenus said. "And now let us enjoy our noonday meal!"

Percy's lip was curling disturbingly, he looked about ready to find out what would happen if he fed a Council of Cloven Elders to Peleus.

The old satyr clapped his hands, and a bunch of nymphs melted out of the trees with platters of vegetables, fruits, tin cans, and other goat delicacies.

The circle of satyrs broke and charged the food. Grover walked dejectedly toward us. His faded blue T-shirt had a picture of a satyr on it. It read GOT HOOVES?

"Don't get me started on milk propaganda, I will make somebody regret it," Alex huffed.

Magnus, as usual with everything that came out of Alex's mouth, was fascinated and wished he could ask what the hell that meant, but Percy looked like Thalia was holding onto his patience by an actual thread if someone didn't start answering some questions around here, so he filed that away for later.

"Hi, Percy," he said, so depressed he didn't even offer to shake my hand.

"No goat-bear- best friend hug?" Jason looked as dejected as Grover had been. This satyr, not fawn, had been fascinating to hear about from the start. The idea of finally meeting him and Grover being, just, a pest like the rest of those goats seemed gave him double vision.

"That went well, huh?"

"Those old goats!" Juniper said. "Oh, Grover, they don't know how hard you've tried!"

"There is another option," Clarisse said darkly.

"No. No." Juniper shook her head. "Grover, I won't let you."

Percy threw his hands up in frustration, he probably caused a wave to crash a few buildings above surface, and then just didn't have the restraint anymore and began pacing around behind Thalia and Jason. This was so frustrating constantly wondering what the hell was going on with his friends.

His face was ashen. "I—I'll have to think about it. But we don't even know where to look."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

In the distance, a conch horn sounded.

Percy hoped he never met who blew the conch horn or it would be lost at the bottom of the ocean.

Annabeth pursed her lips. "I'll fill you in later, Percy. We'd better get back to our cabins. Inspection is starting."

"If she tells me one more time she'll explain later, I will steal her architecture books," Percy assured.

"How did you two not kill each other," Thalia said in awe, watching him over her shoulder with interest.

"I have no idea, but at least I explain what's going on!"

"Sometimes too much," Nico muttered, he could do without the other constant, his loving adoration of her.

It didn't seem fair that I'd have to do cabin inspection when I just got to camp, but that's the way it worked. Every afternoon, one of the senior counselors came around with a papyrus scroll checklist. Best cabin got first shower hour, which meant hot water guaranteed. Worst cabin got kitchen patrol after dinner.

"What I want to know is how much bribery factors into this?" Alex grinned.

"That's the first thought out of your mouth?" Will tried so hard to look disappointed in him. "You hear of an honor ranking system that keeps all of us accountable to clean up after yourself, and your first thought is-"

"Oh stop Will," Nico rolled his eyes, "Connor learned how to hide stuff in the rafters from you, he told me."

"That wasn't trash, I needed that stuff later, for um, testing," he was fighting a losing battle not to laugh by the end.

Nico's eyes gleamed with a light that made his breath catch when Nico said, "and I will be entirely innocent when I make my trash vanish into the shadows, so we're all innocent aren't we?"

"Yes, ahem, that's the take away here," Will dragged his eyes back to Alex and decided that was enough sharing and joking for now or he'd cave and admit to offering Silena more than one signed addition of Chewbacca, mint condition in the box. For some reason she never accepted them as she went about the cabin, so technically he'd never bribed anyone.

The problem for me: I was usually the only one in the Poseidon cabin, and I'm not exactly what you would call neat. The cleaning harpies only came through on the last day of summer, so my cabin was probably just the way I'd left it on winter break: my candy wrappers and chip bags still on my bunk, my armor for capture the flag lying in pieces all around the cabin.

"I should be exempt from chores for that brief time, I was living through severe trauma," Percy clutched at his shirt and finally fell dramatically back into his seat, upside down.

"Your girlfriend was back in a week Jackson, and you had time to clean up before you went back for school," Jason scoffed as he waved him down.

"She's not my-" Percy tried again, but Alex was already ignoring his halfhearted attempt.

I raced toward the commons area, where the twelve cabins—one for each Olympian god—made a U around the central green. The Demeter kids were sweeping out theirs and making fresh flowers grow in their window boxes.

"Now that definitely feels like cheating," Magnus agreed with Percy's put out look.

"Until someone comes rushing in with fresh mulch," Will waved his hand under his nose, though he'd always thought that was a good look on Katie.

Just by snapping their fingers they could make honeysuckle vines bloom over their doorway and daisies cover their roof, which was totally unfair. I don't think they ever got last place in inspection. The guys in the Hermes cabin were scrambling around in a panic, stashing dirty laundry under their beds and accusing each other of taking stuff.

Will couldn't help a nostalgic chuckle about the time his cabin had received second to last place when he'd let Conner hide his clothes under his bed, only to find out later it wasn't all just Conner's. He'd probably gone overboard by washing them before returning them back, but it had felt like the kind, sanitary thing to do even when he'd scowled at all of Katie's stuff mixed in.

They were slobs, but they still had a head start on me.

Over at the Aphrodite cabin, Silena Beauregard was just coming out, checking items off the inspection scroll.

"That can't be fair," Thalia sided with Percy's tragic groan. "Inspection Barbie shouldn't get to review her own."

"Oh trust me, she's more strict on them than anyone, they hate it when she does," Will defended the bias.

I cursed under my breath. Silena was nice, but she was an absolute neat freak, the worst inspector. She liked things to be pretty. I didn't do "pretty." I could almost feel my arms getting heavy from all the dishes I would have to scrub tonight.

"Anything's good training if you've got enough lava?" Jason offered.

"I'll remember that when you ask me to train with you," Percy promised.

The Poseidon cabin was at the end of the row of "male god" cabins on the right side of the green. It was made of gray shell-encrusted sea rock, long and low like a bunker, but it had windows that faced the sea and it always had a good breeze blowing through it.

I dashed inside, wondering if maybe I could do a quick under-the-bed cleaning job like the Hermes guys, and I found my half-brother Tyson sweeping the floor.

Everybody did a double take at that, especially Percy who got the clashing mental image and fell fresh out of his seat.

"Percy!" he bellowed. He dropped his broom and ran at me. If you've never been charged by an enthusiastic Cyclops wearing a flowered apron and rubber cleaning gloves, I'm telling you, it'll wake you up quick.

"And I wasn't even asleep," Percy was rubbing at his heart doing double time. He wasn't even afraid of his brother, but some base instinct of his lizard brain had chosen flight over fight after seeing that, and he hadn't gotten the chance to act.

"Hey, big guy!" I said. "Ow, watch the ribs. The ribs."

I managed to survive his bear hug. He put me down, grinning like crazy, his single calf-brown eye full of excitement. His teeth were as yellow and crooked as ever, and his hair was a rat's nest. He wore ragged XXXL jeans and a tattered flannel shirt under his flowered apron, but he was still a sight for sore eyes. I hadn't seen him in almost a year, since he'd gone under the sea to work at the Cyclopes' forges.

"I'm hoping they didn't instill to many bad habits in him, like military cleanliness," Alex sniffed.

"What's wrong with that?" Jason frowned.

"I'm sure he just like's having a home for a change and is keeping up with it," Magnus said in a much gentler kind of way.

"You are okay?" he asked. "Not eaten by monsters?"

"Not even a little bit." I showed him that I still had both arms and both legs, and Tyson clapped happily.

"Yay!" he said. "Now we can eat peanut butter sandwiches and ride fish ponies! We can fight monsters and see Annabeth and make things go BOOM!"

I hoped he didn't mean all at the same time,

"And here I was hoping the opposite," Alex sighed.

"I kind of thought that was on a banner for the camp somewhere," Magnus admitted.

but I told him absolutely, we'd have a lot of fun this summer. I couldn't help smiling, he was so enthusiastic about everything.

"But first," I said, "we've gotta worry about inspection. We should..."

Then I looked around and realized Tyson had been busy. The floor was swept.

"Yeah Percy, you walked in on him sweeping and in cleaning gear," Jason looked at him like he was out of his mind for not noticing this before the charging cyclops.

"I swear he wouldn't notice if Tyson were in a dress, big guy's a lot to take in at first," Thalia said in some defense of him.

The bunk beds were made. The saltwater fountain in the corner had been freshly scrubbed so the coral gleamed. On the windowsills, Tyson had set out water-filled vases with sea anemones and strange glowing plants from the bottom of the ocean, more beautiful than any flower bouquets the Demeter kids could whip up.

"Tyson, the cabin looks...amazing!"

He beamed. "See the fish ponies? I put them on the ceiling!"

A herd of miniature bronze hippocampi hung on wires from the ceiling, so it looked like they were swimming through the air. I couldn't believe Tyson, with his huge hands, could make things so delicate.

"One of the many great things about him, though his fascination with fish ponies is still my favorite," Alex assured. He personally still could not wait to meet Tyson to show off some of his pottery to someone with some level of skill.

Then I looked over at my bunk, and I saw my old shield hanging on the wall.

"You fixed it!"

The shield had been badly damaged in a manticore attack last winter. But now it was perfect again—not a scratch. All the bronze pictures of my adventures with Tyson and Annabeth in the Sea of Monsters were polished and gleaming.

I looked at Tyson. I didn't know how to thank him.

"And you're surprised?" Thalia chuckled at the wide smile so bright on his face, the first since he'd been back at camp, all just from his brother. "That look on your face was thanks enough I'm sure."

Percy glanced down at his wrist and saw the watch still wasn't there now, but hopefully it was just waiting for him back at his cabin like his brother.

Then somebody behind me said, "Oh, my."

Silena Beauregard was standing in the doorway with her inspection scroll.

"There's a floor in here!" Alex said in what he clearly thought was an approximation of Silena's voice.

"And it's polished," Percy sniffed in honor of Tyson, "and somehow peanut butter scented," he finished with his own perplexed mutter, hoping it was just his little brother eating a sandwich while taking out the trash and not some new cologne.

She stepped into the cabin, did a quick twirl, then raised her eyebrows at me.

"Well, I had my doubts. But you clean up nicely, Percy. I'll remember that."

She winked at me and left the room.

Alex wolf whistled, Percy blushed, and Thalia muttered, "gods am I glad Annabeth isn't here all of a sudden." The girl got quite jealous, and she didn't need Annabeth cursing over nothing.

Tyson and I spent the afternoon catching up and just hanging out, which was nice after a morning of getting attacked by demon cheerleaders.

Jason began ticking off on his fingers, "and having all my friends being annoyingly vague, and running into a mortal who gave me nightmares, and blowing up another school."

"Yeah, it's no wonder Tyson's the easy guy," Percy agreed with an exhausted sigh.

We went down to the forge and helped Beckendorf from the Hephaestus cabin with his metalworking. Tyson showed us how he'd learned to craft magic weapons. He fashioned a flaming double-bladed war axe so fast even Beckendorf was impressed.

"Setting aside how terrifying it is there's a whole forge of cyclops that can do that," Magnus began, "can Poseidon not just create all of that into existence if he needed them?"

"You are way overthinking this," Percy told him in exasperation. "They do have some limits, they can't just snap their fingers and reshape the world."

"Huh, good to know," Magnus said honestly.

While he worked, Tyson told us about his year under the sea. His eye lit up when he described the Cyclopes' forges and the palace of Poseidon,

Percy smiled through his jealousy of just how excited Tyson had been. Maybe one day when he did finally get to visit, Tyson would have so much fun showing him around they wouldn't stop smiling the whole day.

but he also told us how tense things were. The old gods of the sea, who'd ruled during Titan times, were starting to make war on our father. When Tyson had left, battles had been raging all over the Atlantic. Hearing that made me feel anxious, like I should be helping out,

"You cannot actually split yourself into multiple people," Thalia reminded him. "You would be down there and just as guilty you weren't back at camp helping with this big attack coming."

Percy looked wounded because she was entirely correct. Not even covering the fact he wasn't certain why he and his friends were currently trapped in the Titan Oceanus's palace.

but Tyson assured me that Dad wanted us both at camp.

"Lots of bad people above the sea, too," Tyson said. "We can make them go boom."

"Percy's number one talent," Jason nodded seriously, "I see he's spreading out his forces to great effect."

Percy knew he was kidding, and he still rolled his eyes.

After the forges, we spent some time at the canoe lake with Annabeth.

Percy took a deep breath, like he was trying to inhale that memory into him now. Traveling through the Sea of Monsters wasn't exactly a great moment in his life, but the memories were something he'd never want to lose again.

She was really glad to see Tyson, but I could tell she was distracted. She kept looking over at the forest, like she was thinking about Grover's problem with the council.

"Or thinking about revenge on those goats," Alex helpfully added. "I'm thinking we start with the fun house of mirrors and work our way up." Alex had made one to many jokes about some guy eating goats in here to ask what came next.

I couldn't blame her. Grover was nowhere to be seen, and I felt really bad for him. Finding the lost god Pan had been his lifelong goal. His father and his uncle had both disappeared following the same dream.

Last winter, Grover had heard a voice in his head: I await you—a voice he was sure belonged to Pan—but apparently his search had led nowhere. If the council took away his searcher's license now, it would crush him.

"I don't understand why he couldn't look without a license," Thalia scowled, "there's no goat police that's going to keep him in the system!"

Jason looked a little queasy at the idea of her blatant disregard of authority, and yet couldn't deny he'd still help Grover no matter how long his license was expired by.

"What's this 'other way'?" I asked Annabeth. "The thing Clarisse mentioned?"

She picked up a stone and skipped it across the lake.

"She's weirdly good at that too," Percy grinned. "She gets so mad when she can't beat me cause I'll get the water to help mine skip farther every time. I don't care it's cheating, do you know how often I beat her at something?"

He always spoke with this hyper, happy kind of way when he started talking about her, then concluded with a forlorn smile when he looked around the room and realized she wasn't here. The others chuckled for the silly little anecdote all the same even if it was a little sad.

"Something Clarisse scouted out. I helped her a little this spring. But it would be dangerous. Especially for Grover."

"Goat boy scares me," Tyson murmured.

I stared at him. Tyson had faced down fire-breathing bulls and sea monsters and cannibal giants. "Why would you be scared of Grover?"

"Hooves and horns," Tyson muttered nervously. "And goat fur makes my nose itchy."

And that pretty much ended our Grover conversation.

"No, no, no, no, no," Alex looked ready to continue the verbal abuse of that one word until Magnus hesitantly began patting his shoulder and Alex finally articulated, "we politely ask Tyson to go to another room and we explain to Percy what the heck has been going on while not traumatizing the innocent cyclops! Both are possible!"

"I didn't want to exclude him," Percy admitted, "so we started talking about my mom, they wanted an update on her."

"Tyson's appropriate fear of the satanic features of goats and his allergies aside," Jason frowned, "I'm on Alex's side, this has been teased since the last one, I don't know how you could stand it back then."

"Being constantly distracted was a forced help," Percy sighed. Being bunted from one situation to another with his friends often left him the last to know about any of them.

Before dinner, Tyson and I went down to the sword arena. Quintus was glad to have company. He still wouldn't tell me what was in the wooden crates, but he did teach me a few sword moves. The guy was good. He fought the way some people play chess—like he was putting all the moves together and you couldn't see the pattern until he made the last stroke and won with a sword at your throat.

"Who did this guy say his godly parent was?" Jason grinned at such strategic battle strategies.

"He didn't," Percy frowned. He might not even know, but there was something strange in that question Percy felt he knew the answer for.

"Good try," he told me. "But your guard is too low."

He lunged and I blocked.

"Have you always been a swordsman?" I asked.

He parried my overhead cut. "I've been many things."

"I'm still impressed he's lived long enough to grow facial hair," Percy muttered.

Thalia fought hard not to laugh at that, Percy might have an inkling of just how old Quintus is and she didn't want to encourage that line of thought.

He jabbed and I sidestepped. His shoulder strap slipped down, and I saw that mark on his neck—the purple blotch. But it wasn't a random mark. It had a definite shape—a bird with folded wings, like a quail or something.

"You went with quail?" Alex asked with interest. "That's the first bird you think of?"

"Well it didn't look like a penguin," Percy said in exasperation. "I don't know, it was bird shaped."

"What's that on your neck?" I asked, which was probably a rude question, but you can blame my ADHD. I tend to just blurt things out.

"I usually just blame you, no ADHD required," Thalia said.

"Hey, I have layers," Percy grinned, "sometimes I just don't give a shit and ask, sometimes I'm trying to throw people off. It all just ties back to the ADHD."

"Uhhu," Thalia sighed, looking very much like she wanted to smother him. "You keep blaming that you little shit."

Quintus lost his rhythm. I hit his sword hilt and knocked the blade out of his hand.

"Percy's entire personality is a secret weapon confirmed," Jason chuckled.

"Don't encourage him!" Thalia yelped while Percy drowned her out laughing and leaned across her to give Jason a high-five.

Alex watched patiently to see if Thalia was going to break his wrist as he pulled back, and then kept reading in disappointment when she restrained herself.

He rubbed his fingers. Then he shifted his armor to hide the mark. It wasn't a tattoo, I realized. It was an old burn...like he'd been branded.

Will flinched at the insinuation, while Jason rubbed his thumb over his. He'd obsessed over the design of it for hours, but the act of getting it had never given him much pause. It had felt natural, he'd always looked upon it with a sense of pride as he tried to understand the mystery those lines were.

"A reminder." He picked up his sword and forced a smile. "Now, shall we go again?"

He pressed me hard, not giving me time for any more questions.

Percy rubbed at his shoulder where the muscles remembered how much time he'd had off a lot more than his stomach had after all that. Quintus had definitely put him through his paces, but he was also smiling at some of the tricks he'd picked up.

While he and I fought, Tyson played with Mrs. O'Leary, who he called the "little doggie."

Magnus's heart skipped a beat at trying to figure out what he'd call Cerberus all of a sudden, while Alex nodded along to this statement. "She sounds like a very sweet puppy," he agreed.

Dogs, especially tank sized monster-hell hound- dogs, were usually a little to close to wolves for Magnus to really like them. The bigger and messier the strays he saw were, the more he avoided them.

They had a great time wrestling for the bronze shield and playing Get the Greek.

"I really hope Quintus stays forever now, just for his dog," Jason chuckled. "Tyson's probably never had a pet."

"Neither have I, and it was surprisingly easy to stop expecting her to lunge at my back hearing him laugh with her," Percy agreed fondly. He'd gotten over his weariness of her that afternoon, and by the time Tyson had been rubbing her belly so much her tail put a hole in the arena wall, Percy had been guilty of promising her peanut butter treats himself they were so cute together.

By sunset, Quintus hadn't even broken a sweat, which seemed kind of strange;

"I know everything in your body's supposed to start going downhill when you get old," Percy said in concern, "but do old people keep their sweat glands?"

"Yes Percy, old people still sweat. A lot," Will told him in exasperation. He was probably the only person who could have answered that without sounding condescending for the supremely ADHD question.

but Tyson and I were hot and sticky, so we hit the showers and got ready for dinner.

I was feeling good. It was almost like a normal day at camp. Then dinner came, and all the campers lined up by cabin and marched into the dining pavilion. Most of them ignored the sealed fissure in the marble floor at the entrance—a ten-foot-long jagged scar that hadn't been there last summer—

"Just another day in this madhouse," Magnus agreed. "If I didn't know why it was there, I really wouldn't bat an eye the place had almost sunk into the ground or something."

"You should have heard the rumors," Will said fondly. "My favorite was Silena's when she said it was Clarisse standing in one place to long," he snorted, and then quickly backtracked, "um, don't tell her I said that."

"Tell who what?" Percy mock cleaned out his ear, though there really was a strange buzzing there for a moment.

but I was careful to step over it.

"Big crack," Tyson said when we were at our table. "Earthquake, maybe?"

"No," I said. "Not an earthquake."

I wasn't sure I should tell him. It was a secret only Annabeth and Grover and I knew. But looking in Tyson's big eye, I knew I couldn't hide it from him.

"We already knew you were terrible at keeping secrets," Jason snorted.

"This," Percy waved around the room in exhaustion, "isn't my fault. I just can't think of a reason to care against sharing my life with strangers."

Jason smiled in exasperation Percy only proved his point.

"Nico di Angelo," I said, lowering my voice. "He's this half-blood kid we brought to camp last winter. He, uh...he asked me to guard his sister on a quest, and I failed. She died. Now he blames me."

Nico, of all people, snorted with laughter, causing Percy to chuckle in relief.

"You did use my summary," Nico looked oddly pleased.

"Wasn't going to leave you out Nico, then Tyson wouldn't get the chance to hug you when he meets you," Percy grinned.

Nico looked horrified at the idea of a cyclops being sicked on him in that way, but more than that, it was so calming to hear Percy just joking with him like he was anyone else. He'd been expecting the pressure of wishing it was more to be smothering him by now, but instead the opposite seemed to keep happening. The more they talked, the less intense it felt.

Tyson frowned. "So he put a crack in the floor?"

"It was a very reasonable response to be honest," Will said fairly.

"It was an awesome crack I want to see in person," Alex reminded.

"With flames, I remember," Nico nodded.

"These skeletons attacked us," I said. "Nico told them to go away, and the ground just opened up and swallowed them. Nico..." I looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Nico is a son of Hades."

Tyson nodded thoughtfully. "The god of dead people."

"Yeah."

"So the Nico boy is gone now?"

"I—I guess. I tried to search for him this spring. So did Annabeth. But we didn't have any luck.

Nico felt the burning eyes on him, everybody in this room wanting to know in detail what had happened to him in the intervening time. He fiddled with his ring and gave none of them an answer. His time in the Labyrinth would send any of them running and screaming.

Alex dragged his eyes away first, not for the obvious reason the book might tell, but because Nico had had more than enough of his life exposed lately.

This is secret, Tyson. Okay? If anyone found out he was a son of Hades, he would be in danger. You can't even tell Chiron."

Will dragged his eyes away next, and put on the corniest smile he could. "Hey, has anyone ever wondered why Chiron always gives a speech at dinner? It's because he loves being the sent-aur of attention."

Percy and Thalia groaned in unison while Jason looked at him as if in physical pain.

Magnus looked at him blandly and said, "if Chiron ever sends you on the next world ending quest, I'm not going to ask why."

Nico was smothering a laugh though. He wasn't doing a very good job of it, and that was all Will wanted to hear anyways.

"The bad prophecy," Tyson said. "Titans might use him if they knew."

I stared at him. Sometimes it was easy to forget that as big and childlike as he was, Tyson was pretty smart.

"I'm not questioning his intelligence," Alex promised, "but was this a secret? Was Tyson really showing some special smarts there by agreeing this is a good secret to keep from all not pertinent?"

"Like I said, I kind of forgot how much Tyson paid attention, more than I gave him credit for," Percy frowned. He wanted his little brother to hear about Nico and ask if the guy was going to be okay and if he could make things go boom on command, not realize he was a potential pawn for an evil Titan and all the horrible ways he could be manipulated. He hadn't had a lot of innocence growing up with all the strange things in his life, not to mention Gabe. He'd just deluded himself for a second Tyson had some.

He knew that the next child of the Big Three gods—Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades—who turned sixteen was prophesied to either save or destroy Mount Olympus. Most people assumed that meant me, but if I died before I turned sixteen, the prophecy could just as easily apply to Nico.

"Exactly," I said. "So—"

"Mouth sealed," Tyson promised. "Like the crack in the ground."

"Hopefully not as permanently, with fire and skeletons stuck in his mouth," Thalia offered.

"I don't want to know what that dentist visit would be like," Percy grinned.

I had trouble falling asleep that night. I lay in bed listening to the waves on the beach, and the owls and monsters in the woods. I was afraid once I drifted off I'd have nightmares.

"A valid fear," Magnus promised. He'd never had dreams even before this place, and he was really worried once he got back he would because of his realization he wasn't mortal.

See, for half-bloods, dreams are hardly ever just dreams. We get messages.

We glimpse things that are happening to our friends or enemies. Sometimes we even glimpse the past or the future. And at camp, my dreams were always more frequent and vivid.

"Gods, I would be pissed," Alex scowled for Percy. His recurring dream of Loki visiting him was awful enough, but at least when he recognized that dripping cavern he could brace himself for what was coming and more tricks of his mother. The unknown of anything disturbing his sleep sounded somehow like a worse punishment than having to listen to a manipulative birth canal.

So I was still awake around midnight, staring at the bunk bed mattress above me, when I realized there was a strange light in the room. The saltwater fountain was glowing.

They'd almost forgotten the chapter title should make an appearance about prank calls, with so much other stuff going on in this one. Now everyone looked on, as confused as Percy for what was about to happen.

I threw off the covers and walked cautiously toward it. Steam rose from the hot salt water. Rainbow colors shimmered through it, though there was no light in the room except for the moon outside. Then a pleasant female voice spoke from the steam: Please deposit one drachma.

"Can the goddess herself send you a prank call?" Jason asked. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing he'd heard of these Greek gods doing, and he knew for a fact not all receiving- iris messages were like this thanks to Sally. She'd never had a drachma on her before to accept a call from Percy, so something strangely specific must be going on here.

"Why am I the one who's going to find out?" Percy sighed in answer.

I looked over at Tyson, but he was still snoring. He sleeps about as heavily as a tranquilized elephant.

"Hopefully his snoring doesn't intercept the signal or something," Magnus muttered.

I didn't know what to think. I'd never gotten a collect Iris-message before.

"At least it didn't start with the message from a state prison," Thalia tried to say with chipper, but she really didn't like she wasn't sure what was going on so early in this one for it to come across right.

"Then we'd know it was from you and I could just hang up," Percy smirked.

"No prison could hold me!" She yelped.

"You were held in a stockade for quite a number of years," Percy's grin widened. The tree wasn't the perfect example of that, but the image flashed to mind of Thalia trapped in that trunk with just her face and hands sticking out now as he fought off a laugh.

"I'm going to put you in a headlock for the rest of your life," she promised.

As fun as that would be to see, Alex was worried it might put a dampening on the rest of their time here if Thalia murdered him. She'd probably regret it eventually or something and be all sad while finishing these.

One golden drachma gleamed at the bottom of the fountain. I scooped it up and tossed it through the mist. The coin vanished.

"O, Iris, Goddess of the rainbow," I whispered. "Show me...Uh, whatever you need to show me."

The mist shimmered. I saw the dark shore of a river. Wisps of fog drifted across black water. The beach was strewn with jagged volcanic rock. A young boy squatted at the riverbank, tending a campfire. The flames burned an unnatural blue color. Then I saw the boy's face. It was Nico di Angelo.

Nico's face scrunched up with pure distaste like somebody had just tried to feed him cat food. He'd known this was a thing, but the reminder that he'd been withering away desperate for a sign from his sister all this time, and she'd chosen to send a message to Percy to spy on him, still left a burn in his mouth he wasn't sure would ever fully heal.

He was throwing pieces of paper into the fire—Mythomagic trading cards, part of the game he'd been obsessed with last winter.

Nico was only ten, or maybe eleven by now, but he looked older. His hair had grown longer. It was shaggy and almost touched his shoulders. His eyes were dark. His olive skin had turned paler. He wore ripped black jeans and a battered aviator's jacket that was several sizes too big, unzipped over a black shirt. His face was grimy, his eyes a little wild. He looked like a kid who'd been living on the streets.

"Dude, that sounds like such a waste, you could have at least sold them," Percy said out of the blue.

Magnus sort of wanted to smack Percy upside the head like Nico obviously wanted to do for that being his comment to all that. They all knew why he did it, a little levity to help ease the uneasy realization of the situation Nico was now in like they all constantly did to Percy, but Thalia didn't have to tug sharply on Percy's ear and hiss at him to shut it before he realized himself the kid hadn't thought that was funny as he shut his mouth back.

I waited for him to look at me. No doubt he'd get crazy angry, start accusing me of letting his sister die. But he didn't seem to notice me.

I stayed quiet, not daring to move. If he hadn't sent this Iris-message, who had?

"You can send an iris message for someone?" Magnus went a little cross-eyed again as he tried to imagine how that worked. "Do you ask the goddess to hook you up like those old phones that had, um, what were they called? Like talking-group messaging?"

"I think I know what you mean," Percy had seen it on a few movies, but he had no more clue. "If so, nobody told me!"

"It's called a conference call, and it's still a thing people do," Thalia said in exasperation. She could excuse their ignorance pretty easily though, neither of them clearly had much time around a phone. The only reason she knew about them was because Beryl had near constantly been on one for work.

Nico kept to himself it actually seemed something Bianca alone had been able to do. He wasn't sure if she was somehow manipulating the Mist, Hades had pulled in a favor through Iris, or what specifically had been going on here. It's not like she'd ever stuck around to explain any of this to him.

Nico tossed another trading card into the blue flames. "Useless," he muttered. "I can't believe I ever liked this stuff."

Nico felt the questioning eyes on him like he'd slipped into Italian without warning. He shrugged indifferently and really didn't feel like explaining himself, he felt like that was an explanation.

Will couldn't blame him, in fact last night made all the more sense now, if he'd hesitated over playing for a multitude of reasons instead of just the one he'd guessed. His sister had died trying to get him a figurine from this game, he was trying to draw distance from his past. There were probably a number of other reasons he wasn't qualified to guess at all mixed in there.

"A childish game, master," another voice agreed. It seemed to come from near the fire, but I couldn't see who was talking.

"Did you pick yourself up a yes man?" Alex asked, and he sounded actually concerned more than mocking.

Nico's face twisted as bad as his stomach did. "Something like that," he felt obligated to answer more because he had a lot of respect for Alex after last night than he really thought this would get him through this faster. Why hadn't he dug his way out with a spoon yet? Gotten on his knees and begged his dad to come pick him up from the sleepover set in hell? He was desperate enough to try after yesterday, sitting through a whole day of this was going to make him start neighing at these guys before he'd want to answer any more questions.

Nico stared across the river. On the far shore was black beach shrouded in haze. I recognized it: the Underworld. Nico was camping at the edge of the river Styx.

"You left the camp with the lava climbing mountain and decided to rough it camping at the edge of the death river," Jason told him. "Did you think you needed more of a challenge, or were you just looking to get away for your health?" It was phrased more as a cheerful joke or a conversational starter depending on how Nico wanted to answer.

Will watched with growing agitation at how much Nico was struggling to figure out how to respond to all this before he said briskly, "no more questions for him, it's not helping anybody." Phrasing it in the vein of not antagonizing Percy's memories was always an easy cover.

"Yeah, what he said," Nico managed that without having a panic attack at least.

"I've failed," he muttered. "There's no way to get her back."

The other voice kept silent.

Nico turned toward it doubtfully. "Is there? Speak."

Something shimmered. I thought it was just firelight. Then I realized it was the form of a man—a wisp of blue smoke, a shadow. If you looked at him head-on, he wasn't there. But if you looked out of the corner of your eye, you could make out his shape. A ghost.

Jason, Alex, and Magnus all looked like they had a lot of questions about that in fact, but Will's arm over the back of the couch had gone from casual to shielding behind Nico's back and they didn't want to pressure the guy to spill anyways. Percy was already at his wits end being the center of attention, Nico obviously didn't want to share the spotlight.

"It has never been done," the ghost said. "But there may be a way."

"Tell me," Nico commanded. His eyes shined with a fierce light.

"An exchange," the ghost said. "A soul for a soul."

"I've offered!"

"We all did," Percy agreed. Any of them would have taken Bianca's place in that junk yard, but his instinct still kicked madly in protest at this kid wishing for the same.

Nico couldn't look at him. He'd already let the worst thing possible come out of his mouth, but he felt like it could still get worse if he let himself so much as nod at Percy.

"Not yours," the ghost said. "You cannot offer your father a soul he will eventually collect anyway. Nor will he be anxious for the death of his son. I mean a soul that should have died already. Someone who has cheated death."

Thalia shifted uncomfortably in place for what that could have meant. There weren't a lot of possibilities that didn't relate back to immortal beings, though she knew in this specific case Daedalus fit the bill, he never would have come to mind before her fellow Hunters. They seemed the obvious choice for his revenge to her.

Nico's face darkened. "Not that again. You're talking about murder."

"Can I give an A+ for that response?" Alex said in the tone he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You've still got a great moral compass Nico."

"Thanks," he managed a real smile at him. Like every other half-blood, he'd never gotten anywhere close to a grade that good before, and nobody had ever even said he had morals before. Like being the child of the Underworld meant he went around not-so-secretly coming up with elaborate deaths.

"I'm talking about justice," the ghost said. "Vengeance."

"Those are not the same thing," Jason scowled.

"Those are not the same thing."

Percy laughed boisterously while Nico and Jason grinned faintly in surprise at each other.

The ghost laughed dryly. "You will learn differently as you get older."

"He could be a few thousand years old and his morals don't have to change," Will scoffed.

"Wow, your formative years are that important huh?" Magnus chuckled.

"Let's not get into the whole nature versus nurture thing," Thalia sighed, "we'll be here all day. I think we would all personally stab this ghost through the eye for trying to corrupt young Nico, can we just agree on that?"

"Maybe if you'd stop calling me young every five minutes," Nico didn't help his situation by looking a little pouty. Alex cleared his throat in agreement anyways to keep going so he didn't have to admit Nico did look a lot younger and more innocent when he made that face.

Nico stared at the flames. "Why can't I at least summon her? I want to talk to her. She would...she would help me."

Magnus felt something very tight in him pull taught like a choke hold. Was that possible? The ghost had said it wasn't, but if Nico could bring people back from the dead...Was Bianca out there now still palling around with the Hunters? Would he feel like he had his mom back if she was a zombie?

"I will help you," the ghost promised. "Have I not saved you many times? Did I not lead you through the maze and teach you to use your powers? Do you want revenge for your sister or not?"

"I don't like this ghost," Will's tone was sharp as a blade. "He has no right to brag about saving your life and then make it feel like your fault if you don't get Bianca back. Revenge," he repeated in a truly dangerous snap.

"Mmmm, he was very manipulative," Nico murmured just for him. He'd been a fool for trusting him, but Minos had been a powerful ghost, and Nico had been grateful to him. His first ever friend who had helped him, with seemingly wanting nothing in return. So far the only other person who fit that was Will, and he was still waiting for that shoe to drop.

I didn't like the ghost's tone of voice. He reminded me of a kid at my old school, a bully who used to convince other kids to do stupid things like steal lab equipment and vandalize the teachers' cars. The bully never got in trouble himself, but he got tons of other kids suspended.

"Ah geez, not another Luke," Percy scowled with his own near instant dislike of this ghost. He preferred the bull-like brain dead ones like Clarisse, punching first and asking questions never. Those he could almost understand when he went toe to toe with, he had anger issues too. These sorts, the ones that never got their hands dirty and were the last to be caught usually made him want to start a few fires just to get someone caught red handed.

Nico turned from the fire so the ghost couldn't see him, but I could. A tear traced its way down his face. "Very well. You have a plan?"

Nico's shoulders hunched. He ran a hand painfully through his hair, so sharp he expected his ring or nails to scratch through his scalp. Maybe he'd start bleeding and use it as a way to escape the looks of pity he refused to look at. Wild plans of how to get out of this cursed room were still offering themselves up like a flame he was forced to snuff out. His worst secret hadn't given him a free exit, his miserable pain for it hadn't attracted their jailer into thinking he'd suffered enough. What the hell was it going to take?

The moment of silence passed, and Nico had no new answers. He tried to comfort himself maybe the worst had come to fruition, having to hear Bianca's death in detail and Percy knowing the worst of him.

He didn't believe himself.

"Oh, yes," the ghost said, sounding quite pleased. "We have many dark roads to travel. We must start—"

The image shimmered. Nico vanished. The woman's voice from the mist said, Please deposit one drachma for another five minutes.

"What a tease," Alex frowned. "It's a good promo though, showing just enough of the goods I'd want to see the rest."

"So glad the trailer of my life would make a hit," Nico grumbled.

There were no other coins in the fountain. I grabbed for my pockets, but I was wearing pajamas. I lunged for the nightstand to check for spare change, but the Iris-message had already blinked out, and the room went dark again.

The connection was broken.

"Could you have used a quarter?" Magnus was pretty sure Will wouldn't scowl at him like that if the question didn't pertain directly to Nico. "Do people throw pennies at her and get a few seconds more time?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure that's where that mortal idea came from," Thalia grinned.

I stood in the middle of the cabin, listening to the gurgle of the saltwater fountain and the ocean waves outside.

Nico was alive. He was trying to bring his sister back from the dead. And I had a feeling I knew what soul he wanted to exchange—someone who had cheated death. Vengeance.

Nico di Angelo would come looking for me.

"So self-important," Will sniffed, "you think everybody wants you Percy?"

"I've made crazier leaps," Percy gestured at the past books. "If I wasn't sitting here now with the guy obviously not about to kill me, it would still make plenty of sense."

"Now I'm super curious to know who his target is though," Alex didn't look happy about having to give the book up to Percy. "Does Nico take down a god and cause a power imbalance?" He sounded way to hungry about those prospects considering they'd just eaten breakfast.

Nico took a shaky breath and wondered how long he was supposed to sit here and hear them chat about what a little psychopath he was.

"Would you guys cool it! He obviously doesn't want to talk about this!" Will knew he couldn't make them shut up permanently, but he was so frustrated watching Nico clearly loathing every second of this with no way to help.

Percy froze getting out of his seat as he looked awkwardly at them. He didn't exactly know how to avoid it when Nico was tangled up in his life on page.

PJOPJOPJOPJO

Not going to lie, after reading Chalice of the Gods a good dozen times and all the cute percabeth fluff, it was incredibly hard not to put Annabeth into this already. I have a set point where that happens though and I promise you all will love it if you can just hold out for me like I'm making myself do.

#pjo #Percy Jackson #Thalia Grace #Jason Grace #will solace #nico di angelo #alex fierro #Magnus Chase #botl #HDYSG

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jmoriarty-221b · 3 years

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So I saw somewhere a post that talked about how some fictional characters just have a divorce vibe going on, like, at no point in time were they ever married but they just give off that feeling that they got divorced

And now I can only think of Clark Kent and Lex Luthor having that vibe

And I spent close to an hour talking about this to my sibling and how it would be a good idea for a new DC show like, you can make so much money off of just the main Batfam alone and there are literally so many people in there that it’s just an amazing idea to have them all in a show together but kind of like a Good Luck Charlie kinda thing because there’s more than enough angst in the world

But in the case of not having enough of a budget for so many characters in one show I turned to the Superfam (Batfam is Huge like, I don’t even know half of the extended family version and that’s like at least ten characters so I could see why it wouldn’t be entirely feasible to have a show that included everyone while still being good with nice character development without having a billion dollars for the budget)

The Superfam, in my personal experience, is composed of Ma & Pa Kent (farm vibes plus I refuse to have either of them die in my AU), Clark Kent (main Superman), Lois Lane (Lana? was Smallville Lois i guess??? But idk enough about her so she’s not here), Jon Kent (Superboi II), Kara Danvers (Supergirl) & Conner Kent (Superboi I)

Now I’ve stopped watching CW shows like, forever ago??? But my brother kinda keeps up with them and basically the gist is that the ratings of every other show suck Except for the Superman & Lois show (because it’s 💫new💫) and I saw the cover of the poster like “Ah, the werewolf dude. . . mmmhhmmm that’s Lois yes, yes that’s Johnny boi, and um is that???? Nooooo, they wouldn’t do that to Conner right???? Please tell me they didn’t make Conner blonde” and I was informed that the blonde teen is Chris???? Like

Whoms’t do ye speak of

I’m not even joking but the only way I even know of Chris is from a random fanfic I read where Dick Grayson gets his own super from an alternate reality named Chris, that’s my only point of reference for this character

But let’s talk about how Conner Kent (OG Superboi) was excluded

Now I haven’t seen any episodes of this and I probably never will (no hate I’m just really unmotivated to start new shows at all) so idk if they might mention Conner or even allude to him in one scene or something

But this was my main motivator as to my new Superfam TV Show Idea

Have Lex Luthor not be a Superman villain, he’s mainly a successful businessman, a little shady but who isn’t, and he doesn’t want to Kill Superman, he just wants to be able to have some sort of viable protection against a Kryptonian in case of an invasion (see Man of Steel + CW’s Supergirl) or suddenly having a mind controlled Superman on their hands (see Justice League series or just look up what Red Krytonite does) so he makes it like his side thing to figure out ways to neutralize or hold back a Kryptonian, Clark totally thinks that Lex is obsessed with finding a way to kill Superman because they had a bad end to their friendship in high school so he’s always suspicious of Lex, Lex hasn’t really ever tried to kill him though because 1. It’s not that deep Clark ok? And 2. He’s a busy busy man with a very important job position and a company to run so does he look like he has time to harbor an obsession over someone who rejected him back in high school??? You’re more of a constant side quest Clark, so stop trying to put him on the JL watchlist ( btw ik about Lena Luthor, haven’t forgotten her but she doesn’t really play a part in this AU so let’s just have her and Kara off to the side doing their own thing ok? Ok)

Lex, Bruce & Oliver all knew each other when they were kids and went to the same school, this is just an extra detail I wanted to happen because Lex and Ollie definitely know Bruce is Batman and absolutely HATE having to deal with Brucie Wayne because “I know you’re just doing this to irritate me Bruce, you just want to see if you can make a vein throb in my forehead but I will valiantly ignore your dumbassery because I know you hate being Brucie just as much as we hate having to put up with Brucie so suck on that you petty bitch” because they bonded in ye olden days, childhood friends so to speak

Anyway so Cadmus tries to get Lex to make an investment in their company, seeing as Cadmus is shadier than Gotham when it rains Lex is basically like ‘no ❤️’ and doesn’t make a deal with them, Cadmus gets mad at not having Lexcorp financially backing them so Lex has an ‘accident’ and they steal his DNA, then they steal Superman’s DNA somehow and *boom* a Superboi is formed

Because I don’t know much about how the Core Four became friends in the first place (Robin Tim Drake, Impulse Bart Allen, Wonder Girl Cassie Sandsmark & Superboy Conner Kent) I’m just gonna go with what happens in the show Young Justice except it’s the Core Four becoming the Core Four when they liberated Conner (who at this point believes himself to be a clone of Superman and has only been given Superboy as a name) from Cadmus, same shit goes down meaning that Clark is just straight up NOT vibing with Conner, Conner just wants a mentor please, and the Bats kinda give Clark a passive aggressive treatment for not taking Superboy under his wing or at least agreeing to teach him how to control his powers, especially Tim because that’s his Bestie so yes

Anyway, YJ saves ppl and is on the news or whatever and Lex finds out about Superboy’s existence that way, so he researches this new super on his free time, finds out that he came from Cadmus and claims to be a clone of Superman, yet doesn’t have the whole power set Superman has??? Wait, didn’t Lex reject Cadmus’ proposal and the got into a mysterious accident??? Long story short Lex goes connecting the dots, hacks into Cadmus’ files, finds out he technically has a son with Superman and decides to take Superboy under his wing (I’ll go more in depth as to why Lex would want to do this in this AU later but the abridged version would be that he wants a kid but doesn’t have the time nor interest in finding a wife??? Also the radiation that made him bald as a kid also affected his reproductive system so while it’s not impossible for him to conceive kids he would have a very hard time actually getting to father a kid)

Him and Conner, who still goes by Superboy at this point in time, meet up and Conner finds out that here is a parent figure that is both available and actively wants to be a part of his life, so he agrees to get to know Lex and the series would focus on them becoming a family, with a special episode when Conner asks Lex for help in choosing a name for himself and it ends up with him agreeing to become Conner Luthor, it would be heartwarming and Mercy would make sure it happens within a day (Mercy is Lex’s bodyguard/PA but they’re also besties and she becomes the Responsible yet Chaotic Aunt as Lex and Conner’s father-son relationship progresses)

Obviously Clark becomes super suspicious of Lex getting close to his ‘clone’ and when Conner decides to go public as Lex’s son he’s like *GASP* and calls up Bruce because we need to get on this Bruce, Lex is a villain and blah blah blah but Bruce would be over Clark’s shit and hit him with that “actually, Lex was also an unwilling genetic donor to Superboy, who actually is not your clone either, and has agreed to take him in, I’ve been on this shit since they first met and the kid is doing just fine so if you keep poking your nose in their business then that’s your problem but you better be ready to pay child support bitch . . . have a good day ❤️”

The series would just focus on Conner getting to have a good parent figure in Lex and go more into their civilian lives rather than focusing on the superhero thing, Conner, Bart, Tim & Cassie have a sleepover at Lex’s house at one point, Lex totally Knows what’s up but it’s all good because these are his baby’s friends and they’re good people who are more than willing to prank Superman for rejecting his kid and giving his baby self worth issues (Mercy supports them)

Anyway, that’s basically the idea for a new Superhero Show

#humor #superfamily #that’s new #focusing on Conner (the OG Superboy)#because they are always excluding him #so now Lex Luthor is a caring father to him #because yes #give this boy some love #conner kent #lex luthor #clark kent #bruce wayne #tim drake #superman #superboy #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #the Core Four is here too #Lex isn’t really a villain #he’s not evil either #finding ways to neutralize Superman is just like a side quest #because yes Superman is a paragon of good and Justice #but mind control exists #so pardon Lex for wanting to be able to protect himself from an out of control Superman #Clark totally thinks that Lex is obsessed with stopping him #because they had a bad friendship ending back in high school #but Lex isn’t aware of this ‘rivalry’ he’s supposed to be a part of #so it’s just Clark being suspicious of Lex and Lex not having a clue about this #or just not giving a shit because he’s a busy businessman trying to run a huge company #just a new idea for a new DC show focusing on the Supers

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verymuchimmortalcat · 3 years

Text

What Do You Mean We’re Trending?!

For Marijon Week Day 5: Social Media

@marijon-week

ao3

Marinette for the first time ever had been allowed to do solo patrol in Gotham. Her father and older siblings were ridiculously overprotective. She had been helping them with patrol for years before she had even permanently to Gotham a few months back. But Gotham and Paris were very different and it had taken her this long to be cleared to take her own patrol route.

Jon had been the first one she had told, during one of their dates in Metropolis. While, most of her family knew (everyone except her father), she wasn’t going to push her luck by getting Jon to Gotham. They had started dating shortly before Hawkmoth had been defeated and then it had just never come up in conversation with her dad. Other than Damian and her sisters none of them had even been told by her or Jon. Jon had told Damian almost immediately. Had it been particularly smart to tell Damian that his best friend was dating his younger sister. Well, Jon had certainly thought so. Marinette had told the girls herself. The Kents obviously knew and Kon had been the one to tell Tim, and then Bart who had also found out from Kon had told Wally who had told Dick. Marinette’s still not sure how Jason and Duke found out, but it was probably Dick. And there was very little that Alfred didn’t know. She was still shocked that her Dad hadn't figured it out, being the world's greatest detective and all.

As Marinette returns to the rooftops after stopping another petty theft, she hears a very familiar voice say, “how’s your first night on solo patrol going?”

Superboy is standing on the rooftop next her with a grin on his face. Marinette had not been expecting to see him here today. Not in Gotham.

Turning to face him, she says, “Superboy. You do realise the no-metas rule hasn’t been lifted because of the signal, right?”

“Like none of your brothers’ super powered friends sneak into Gotham on a regular basis. C’mon Bug, not even a hi?”

She bites her lip in thought. Last Batman checked in; he had been near the Diamond District. If it was Selina, Marinette was sure he was bound to be there a while and Babs would definitely cover for her if asked.

Making up her mind she stands on her toes and kisses him in greeting, before she can pull away, he snakes a hand around her waist and pulls her in closer. When they do break apart, Marinette whispers, “hi.”

“Hi. I missed you.”

She laughs, “I saw you two days ago.”

“That’s a pretty long time for me.”

She smiles at him, “I missed you too. But you should probably leave before someone finds out you’re here.”

He looks sad at the thought of leaving nor does Marinette want him to leave but he can’t stay here.

“See you tomorrow morning?” he asks before flying away.

To which Marinette answers, “definitely."Once he flies away, Marinette continues her patrol, resolving to talk to Babs in the morning.

.oOo.

When she goes down to breakfast the next morning, her siblings are laughing about something. In a hurry to leave for her date Marinette ignores them and starts to eat her food. Her Dad keeps looking over at her as if he wants to say something but then goes back to eating. Getting tired of everyone's strange behaviour, she says, "ok, what's wrong? Why are all of you acting strange?”

"She doesn't know," Duke says shocked.

She's curious now, "I don't know what?"

Tim pulls out his phone, opens twitter and hands it to her, #superboy x ladybug is trending at number one in the U.S.

Her siblings start to laugh as her expression becomes more horrified as she scrolls through twitter. Apparently someone had seen her kiss Jon and had tweeted about it. If practically everyone hadn't known about it Marinette probably would've been angry at the person who had started this. She hands Tim back his phone. She should've talked to Babs yesterday before going to bed. Before she can get an awkward speech from her dad, she takes a deep breath and stands up to leave and says, "now if you'll excuse me, I have a date and if any of you try to spy on us," she pauses and turns the infamous bat-glare at each and every one of them, "I'll get my revenge," she promises ominously leaving everyone in the room hesitant to go against her.

#marijon week 2021 #maribat #marijon #bio dad bruce wayne #my writing

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neakco · 3 years

Text

The Lost Temple Ch.4

Ao3 First Prev Next Masterlist

Where Tim debates if sending his youngest brother out to murder an ancient order of monks is unethical.

Ch.4 The Calm

Marinette explained that she hadn’t seen any signs of the temple yet. So it was decided they would consider every area covered today as searched unless the remaining sections turn up empty.

Their new plan also had them sticking together, just in case. Just in case of what was never mentioned but Tim was starting to think it either had something to do with gods or magic.

As they once again shared the watch Tim decided to risk asking a question he had dismissed earlier. “How did you untie the ropes so quickly?”

He watched a few different emotions cross her eyes before settling on mischievous.

“I have a small god in my pocket.”

He laughed quietly, “I don’t even know if you are joking. You are a mystery Marinette.” A mystery he wouldn’t mind taking a long time to solve if he was being honest.

Her laughter soon joined his, “How about I tell you when all of this is over.”

“So you don’t plan to disappear off the grid after returning to the monks?”

Marinette’s mirth evaporated, “I don’t want to return.”

It felt to Tim that in that moment she had removed his soul to scrutinize every sin and good deed before finally giving it back.

“I trust you more then I have ever trusted them.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Adrien and I have known them for five years now.”

Tim was curious but he could also tell this was a very sensitive topic, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I know, but it feels good to tell someone.”

He watched and waited patiently. This was the first time he felt as if she wasn’t suppressing any of her emotions and he didn’t want to ruin it.

“The monks figured they could control us, by the time the learned they were wrong it was too late. We were too powerful.”

Tim wanted to make a joke about how they didn’t look powerful, but deep down he knew that wasn’t true. There was definitely something just under the surface if you knew what to look for. Tim had spent to much Tim with those more than human to ever dismiss Marinette and Adrien.

“They tried to kill us when we were 16 three years ago.”

That stopped Tim's thoughts. What sane person tries to kill sixteen year olds?

“Adrien's father had just been revealed as a supervillain and arrested.” He was definitely staring, this was a lot more information than he expected her to offer freely.

She apparently noticed his look and understood, “It is common knowledge and if you are even half as good a detective as rumours say then I know you will find out eventually.”

He watched her collect her own thoughts for a moment and noticed his own were silent for once.

“We survived the attempt without a scratch. For a while we figured that would be the end of it. We started to pick up the chaos of what remained of our lives. We wanted to be kids, at least for a couple more years. We hadn’t been kids in so long…” She trailed off for less than a breath. “Then they appeared again.”

Tim didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she continued speaking in a darker tone.

“They took the only people we care about. Said that if we do this one thing that we won't have to worry anymore.”

“You don’t believe them.”

“Would you?”

“No, probably not.” He reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a card in the shape of his logo and handed it to her. “I doubt the monks will expect you ask for help. This has my emergency line and the number for Mount Justice. When you decide to pull off a rescue then you just need to ask.”

Marinette surprised him when she hugged him, tears streaming down her pretty face. “This means so much more to me than you could ever know.”

Tim, not really knowing what to do, did his best to hug her back. There was a small voice that sounded like his youngest brother telling him it was stupid to trust two teens that he had stumbled over in a jungle, but he was pretty good at ignoring the Gremlin when his gut disagreed.

Adrien eventually came by to tell them they were late for breakfast. Tim hadn’t even realised so much time had passed.

They came back to camp to see Bart already bouncing off trees.

“Adrien, tell me about your girlfriend.”

“Kagami?” Tim watched Adrien sit down with a cheese danish that had him questioning if the blonde was as good a baker as Marinette.

“She is as fierce and protective as a dragon.”

Marinette sat down next to him with a chocolate danish. Where were these coming from? Tim wondered if they could get him a mocha flavoured one.

“You know kitty, I am actually surprised the monks managed to grab her. She is rather deadly with a sword after all.”

“I am mire surprised they didn’t grab Luka.” Adrien grinned ferally. “Do you think he tossed them in La Siene? I rather doubt they know how to swim.”

“Who's Luka? You’re boyfriend?” Kon asked before taking a bite of…was that steak?

Okay, now Tim knew he was being pranked. He turned to glare at Bart who just grinned and handed over a large slice of coffee cake.

“Luka is actually my ex, but I still count him as one of my best friends. Enough about us, what about you three? Anyone special waiting for you back home?”

Bart laughed, “Nah, I am still celebrating just being alive.”

Tim could see Marinette adding Bart into her club as Kon scoffed, “Hard to find someone okay with dating a hero.”

Tim nodded, “Too many secrets. It isn’t like you can explain why you are ditching a date to run towards danger.”

“Or why you are late and covered in bruises, burns or blood.” Bart chipped in.

“Actually that one is easy enough when you live in Gotham.” Tim sighed, he really wished that wasn’t the case.

Adrien nodded along solemnly, “The only ones to understand are heroes and villains.” He looked towards Tim brimming with mischief. “Is it true that Batman had a threesome with Gotham's Sirens?”

A yo-yo flew into Adrien with such force that the blonde actually flew from his seat. Tim was up before the boy had gracefully landed on his feet, but relaxed upon seeing the toy, no the weapon, return to Marinette.

“Kitty, no.”

“M'lady you wound me. That actually hurt. I just wanted to make him blush.”

He watched her tuck the yo-yo away at her back before turning to Tim, “You really don’t need to answer him.”

Tim grinned, “I honestly don’t know. Pretty sure I deleted that info from my brain. I mean, would you want to know your mentor's sex life?”

Adrien and Marinette both shuddered.

“Our trusted mentor was 186.”

“and a half.” Adrien interrupted.

“186 and a HALF.” He watched her glare at the blonde while his own teammates shuddered.

Tim found himself more impressed then anything else. That was an unnaturally long life, unless their trusted mentor was secretly Ra’s. He doubted the Gremlin's grandfather was ever a monk though, rogue or otherwise. Plus, unlike said Gremlin, these two didn’t have the aura of killers. He would bet they had seen death, something in the sometimes haunted look they would get. These two had seen some sort of war and lived.

“Hey Red, are you still with us?” Marinette was very close and looking at him with concern.

“Yeah, I was just thinking.” He saw that most of the breakfast mess had already been cleaned up and decided to throw caution to the wind. “Have you or Adrien ever killed anyone?”

“What?” Marinette reeled back from him in shock.

Adrien looked like an offended cat, “No!”

“Well, there was that erased timeline…” Marinette trailed off.

“You told me I was under mind control! And I doesn’t count when only you and Bunnix can remember it.”

“Sorry, forget I ever asked.” If that timeline-hopping, punk rabbit was involved then he already knew more then he wanted to. Missions given to them by her were always the most chaotic.

In order to change the subject he pulled up his holo-map. “Working off the theory that our enemy has already searched their area.” He highlighted a good portion of the map purple. “Then this small area here should be the only area left to search.”

“We are actually assuming the enemy is competent?” Kon asked.

“Even if they aren’t, it will be a lot harder to search their territory without drawing attention.” Marinette added. “If today doesn’t work out then we can work out a strategy.”

Tim marked out their path in gold, “Two hours there and about 12 hours to search before we call it a night.”

“Unless we find it.” Adrien smiled.

“Unless we find it.” He agreed.

As always, feel free to reach out if you have any background lore questions. I am more than happy the elaborate the chaos.

Taglist @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat #the lost temple #adventure #some angst #some humor #rin writes

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lala-ladybug · 3 years

Text

Healing Hands: Chapter 4

Yesyesyes I’m super excited to share this one with you guys!! The game is finally beginning, ahhhh!!!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

First | Previous | Next

Chapter 4: Goddamn wimps, all of them

Marinette opened her eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight. She stood in a huge village square filled with hundreds of people, the gaps between them growing smaller as more and more players appeared. The sun shone merrily, and an excited chatter began rising in the air. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It felt good to be back.

“Marinette!” She looked around to see Alya and Nino waving a few yards away. She broke into an excited smile and jogged over to meet them. They must have spawned in relative to their actual locations since Kagami, Luka, and the others from her class were already there.

“Hey guys!” Marinette said breathlessly. “Almost didn’t make it. Thanks for the call, Alya.”

The brunette gave her a quick hug. “Anytime, girl. Now you and Lila can show us the ropes!” She bounced excitedly.

Marinette barely caught herself from rolling her eyes and just nodded instead. Of course Lila would be able to help teach the others how to play. It definitely wouldn’t just be Marinette teaching everybody. Again.

Meanwhile, Max and Nathaniel were remarking on how realistic the textures of the cobbled streets were. Marinette did a double-take when she saw Adrien standing next to them. He had an immensely intricate and ornate suit of armor. There was an excess of spikes, ribbons flowing from every joint, and every inch of him was covered in metal. A tall helmet adorned with skull decals cast a shadow over his grinning face.

“What are you wearing?” She spluttered. He pointed a thumb to his chest with some difficulty, the thick metal creaking with the movement.

“This bad boy is the toughest armor in the game! I may have made a few embellishments of my own, so now I look even cooler.” He stated with pride.

Marinette shot a look at Luka, who wore a light set of simple leathers. He grimaced and shook his head, warning Marinette not to question their friend’s surprisingly atrocious taste in fashion. Or serious misunderstanding of armor weight classes.

“You know you could’ve picked any armor you want, right?” Adrien asked.

“Oh, I know. I crafted this set during beta testing!” Marinette spun around to show the boys, gladly welcoming the change in subject. She was dressed in a light suit of armor, the metal tinted a deep red. Black fabric peeked underneath the gaps, a strong yet flexible design of her own making. A simple grey cloak hung off her shoulders, concealing the quiver behind her back.

While Luka and Adrien complimented her brilliant design, she spotted Lila. She looked a little out of her element, hanging back to awkwardly watch a conversation between Kim, Alix, and Kagami, oddly enough. The three were dressed in heavy sets of armor, lamenting about how there weren’t any monsters to battle yet.

Chloe sauntered over to join them and, having heard how even Kagami was itching for a fight, wrinkled her nose. Marinette giggled to herself. This was going to be interesting, to say the least.

* * *

Jason’s eyes snapped open and he threw out an arm to steady himself. The transition from logging on was dizzying, but the sensation faded with every deep breath he took. He noted the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. Damn, even he had to admit this tech was impressive. Dick and Tim stood next to him, wearing blue and red-toned armor respectively. Tim was looking around wildly, grinning like an idiot.

“Timmy!” Cassie Sandsmark sprinted towards them to tackle her boyfriend in a hug. Oh great, looks like the rest of the kiddy patrol was here too. Looking to where Cassie had run from, Jason indeed saw various members of The Team. Connor looked just as nauseated as Jason had felt after joining. Roy stood next to him, unmoving as he stared down at his very realistic-looking hand. Ouch. Jason had to have some sympathy for the poor kid, not that he’d ever tell him that.

Bart and Garfield, on the other hand, appeared to be having the time of their lives. Bart got into a running stance and Garfield gleefully jumped into the air, both falling flat on their faces. Jason snorted as he watched Jaime help his boyfriend up. Jaime asked him, “Whoa there ese, what gives?”

Bart shook his head and muttered, “I don’t have my speed.”

Garfield furrowed his brow and strained his face. “You look like you’re either really constipated or trying to shift,” Artemis informed him.

Ignoring her, Garfield locked his panicked eyes with Connor’s. “I can’t shift either, SB.”

“Der kaolc ym nrut,” Zatanna intoned quietly. When nothing happened, she nervously said, “My magic doesn’t work either.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Goddamn wimps, all of them. “Looks like all you supers will have to stoop to our level.”

“Stay whelmed everyone,” Dick stepped in to mitigate half the group’s outrage. “It’s just a game, we don’t exactly need our other skills right now.”

Before they could say anything else, an enormous bell mounted in the center of the town square began to ring. A hush fell over the crowd. The sky darkened as red hexagons interlocked to create a massive dome around the town.

A tall being flickered to life in the air above them. The hooded figure floated high overhead, their face eerily concealed.

“Attention players,” the figure raised their hands. “I welcome you to my world.” Well that didn’t sound ominous, Jason thought to himself. He felt the mood from the others shift into high alert.

“You may call me the Game Master, and I am the only one in control of this world. You may have noticed that the logout button is missing from your main menu.” The figure paused dramatically. “I assure you, this is no defect in the game. It is all as I have designed it to be. You cannot log yourselves out, and no one outside the game will be able to remove you forcibly. If anyone tries to do so, a transmitter inside the VR headset will emit powerful microwaves into your brain that will end your life.” Shit, shit, shit. This was just supposed to be a dumb game he played to make Replacement shut up about it, what the hell?

“Of the 10,000 players, 215 have already died because their family or friends ignored this warning and attempted to remove their headsets. Media outlets have been reporting on this, so it is safe to assume the danger of your headsets being removed has passed.” This guy had to be joking. Though if he wasn’t, Babs would surely research everything within her power to try to remove them safely.

“One other feature of the game is that you are no longer able to revive players. If your HP drops to zero, your avatar will die and the headset will destroy your brain.” Jason’s eyes widened and his head whipped to Dick. He ran a hand through his hair, looking just as horrified as Jason felt.

“The only way for a player to return to the real world is to clear the game. You are currently on Floor 1, the lowest level of the castle. If you make it to the dungeon and defeat the level boss, you may progress to the next level. Defeat the final boss on Floor 100, and you will clear the game.” This motherfucker couldn’t be serious.

The game master, god what a pretentious prick, raised his hands and began to disappear once more. He said, “Good luck, players,” before disappearing entirely. The sky returned to its cheery blue.

A beat of silence passed before someone started screaming. Then the thousands of players erupted into a cacophony of sound.

* * *

Marinette stood stockstill amidst the chaos. She felt more than heard masses of people panicking around her. Her eyes darted back and forth without truly seeing anything, mind racing to figure out a solution. If there was no way to safely remove the headset, then they’d have to beat the whole game. What about the Kwami? Could they connect with their miraculi? What about the small powers they’d each accumulated over the years? If those were accessible, then they might stand a chance, but god if they weren’t--

A hand on her arm made her snap her head to attention. It was Adrien, his jaw clenched tightly. She gripped his arm in return, the small reassurance barely that. Around her, the new Order looked to their leader for orders, direction. And behind them, her classmates....

Most were white in the face. Max had his hands clenched in his hair and was muttering to himself about the likelihood that the headsets actually could kill them. From the way he was shaking his head, she guessed it was a definite possibility. Lila looked like a cornered animal, twitchy and desperately looking for an escape. Even Kim and Alix wore uncharacteristically serious expressions.

“Well?” Chloe prompted Marinette. The latter took a deep breath. Better focus on solving the smaller problems first. “Your VIP package came with a house on the first floor, right?”

Chloe blinked in surprise. “Yeah, it did,” she replied uncertainly.

“Good.” Marinette whistled and gestured for the rest of her friends to gather around. “Listen up! We don’t know how everyone else is going to react, so it’s best for us to go somewhere safe to lie low for a while. I can teach everyone the gameplay, and we’ll do our best to help beat the game.”

She looked Alya and Nathanial in the eye, since their hands seemed to be shaking the most, and said with all the confidence of Ladybug, “Think of all the bullshit Hawkmoth’s put us through. We are not going to die here. That’s a promise.”

Marinette drew her bow and half-strung an arrow, holding it parallel to the ground. “Chloe has a house on the first level. Let’s go.” She nodded to Adrien, Chloe, Kagami, and Luka to establish a perimeter around the rest of the class as they moved. She exhaled a quiet, shaky breath and led the way out of the square.

The crowd did not part easily. People were sobbing, shouting, hyperventilating. They needed to get out fast before the shock wore off.

Someone stood in front of her. The poor soul was probably just as scared as they were. She put her bow back in her inventory, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“Excuse me,” Marinette gave a little half-wave to get their attention. “May I please get through?”

“Oh, sorry,” He had a deep, male voice. One hand gestured to the direction she was headed as he stepped out of her path. “Go right ahead.” His hands weren’t shaking as the other crept towards his belt. Not good, not good.

A flash of silver was all the warning she got before Luka pulled her back. A knife collided with his hastily raised shield, shedding sparks as the assailant nearly dropped his weapon in surprise. Marinette dropped down to sweep her leg beneath Luka’s shield, knocking the man off his feet. He gave a shout of surprise as he went down, and Luka disarmed him in the confusion.

“Come on, move it!” Marinette shouted over her shoulder. She re-equipped her bow and surged forward, picking up the pace to get the hell out of there. Such a large group was an easy target, they had to get out of the open and fast. People were starting to react beyond their shock, and more of them were bound to get violent.

Her eyes scanned over the buildings in front of them. There. A momentary break in the throng of players allowed her to spot Slipcut Alley, a favorite shortcut of hers. It was only a few yards away. The alley was too narrow for anything but a single-file line, but it provided cover and was hidden by a spell that only other beta testers would know about. It was their best option.

She squared her shoulders and pushed through the last of the crowd. She turned to face her friends, who gathered around her as they too made it out into the small clearing. Chloe, Kagami, and Adrien were watching the crowd behind them, ready to defend against any other attacks.

Marinette put her bow away one more time and asked, “Do you trust me?”

Shaky nods and wide eyes. That would have to do.

“Then follow me,” she said, and walked straight through the wall before them.

* * *

“Our first step should be finding shelter for the night,” Dick said sharply. “We can figure out the rest tomorrow, but it’ll do us no good if we die tonight.” Tim nodded, ever the protégé.

“And just how do you suggest we do that?” Jason countered. He couldn’t help it if it came out a little accusatory. He did not sign up for a damn death trap.

It was Garfield who had the answer. “Well, in order to do anything, we need money. So we need to start killing some monsters!” He palmed his fist with a resounding smack. “And then we can see about an inn or something.”

Connor rubbed his chin. “That’s not a bad idea, kid.”

“Just tell me where to hit them,” Roy said in a low voice, sounding about as pissed as Jason felt.

“Let’s split into three teams. Alpha squad will be Artemis, Wally, Bart, and myself. Tim, Roy, Gar, and Connor will be Beta. Jason, you’re with Jaime, Cassie, and Zatanna for Gamma.” Great, Jason was the only non-super there. What a grand old time that’ll be.

He made to leave the square and disappear into the panicking crowd, but Dick held his arm. “Hey, I’m trusting you to keep them safe,” he kept his voice low. “It’s been a while since they fought without powers, so keep an eye on them.” He then turned to address the rest of the team. “Alpha will take north. Beta, go south and Gamma see what’s west. Meet back here at sunset. Alpha will secure lodging before engaging enemies.”

“What, no pep talk?” Wally elbowed Dick. The latter didn’t crack a smile as he said, “Just stay alive.”

Beside him, Garfield swallowed hard and said weakly, “Noted.”

Jason rolled his eyes and jerked his head in their assigned direction for the other three members of Gamma squad to come with him. He’d follow along as long as Dick made good plans, and Jason didn’t exactly have any better ideas for now.

He put on his very best I know exactly how to kill you and I’ll do it if you don’t get the hell out of my way face and lead the way out of the packed square. The crowd parted easily before him, and they were out on an open street within a matter of minutes.

”Where to first, ese?” Jaime asked, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Good question. Jason looked around for a map or something that could tell him the way out of the damn town. When he glanced back for a quick headcount and only counted two, he cursed and asked Cassie, “Where the hell is Z?”

She pointed at a nearby stall where the magician was chatting with the vendor. Zatanna waved to them, then sauntered back over to the rest of the team. “The shopkeeper says there’s a bridge further down this street and to the left that’ll take us west out of the town.”

Cassie frowned. “Was that a player with their own shop already? Man, we are behind.”

“Oh, no it was an AI.” Zatanna readily supplied. “An NPC?” She added on seeing the confusion on her companions’ faces. “Honestly, was I the only one to do research on this game before playing it?”

Jaime sheepishly scratched his head while Cassie squeaked, “Well....” Jason had to agree with them, he just did this to keep Replacement happy. And get Dick off his ass, the meddling prick.

Zatanna shook her head. “Look, AI stands for artificial intelligence, and NPC is a non-playable character. They’re computer-generated people, not actual players.”

Jason caught enough to surmise that these NPCs were created by the same maniac that locked them up in here. He crossed his arms and asked, “How the hell can we trust their word if they’re controlled by that fuckin’ game master freak?”

Cassie bit her lip and had the good sense to look concerned. Zatanna just shrugged and said, “I guess we’ll just have to find out. We can try following their directions but stay cautious in case it’s a trap.”

“Fine,” Jason sighed. “Let’s go.” He was already resigned to the absolute stupidity of the situation anyway.

They made it to the end of the street without incident, and turned where the shopkeeper had directed them to. There was a bridge, spanning a merrily bubbling river, and open fields dotted with trees beyond it. Jason could smell the greenery and apple blossoms from here.

“Wait!” Jaime threw his arm out. He made a face, then sneezed. “Aw man,” he gave a tremendous sniff. “Can’t eben escabe allergies in a video gabe.”

Cassie laughed at her friend and slapped him on the back, which only made him sneeze again. Dumbasses, they didn’t have time for this. Jason rolled his eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time that day and walked up to the base of the bridge. He slowly, carefully stepped across and edged his way to the other side.

The other three followed suit, and upon joining him, Zatanna said cheerfully, “Seems like we can trust the NPCs!”

“For now,” Jason muttered, still not convinced. He turned his gaze to the rolling hills before him, warm breezes sending waves that shimmered through the knee-high grass. He didn’t see any monsters, but there had to be some... right?

He used two fingers to swipe the air in front of him, opening his inventory. At least he remembered that much from the tutorial. He equipped the crossbow he’d loaded in when he created his avatar. Damn, that night in the Batcave felt like it was a week ago.

Jason took a wary step forward, into the grass. “Fan out,” he directed the other three. He didn’t turn to watch as he heard them draw their own weapons and creep up to flank him.

A rustle in the grass ahead had him throw a clenched fist into the air to have the others hold their positions. He waited until the movement stilled, then crept forward a few more steps, careful to keep his footsteps silent. He was within feet of it now, whatever it was. He hoisted up his crossbow to brace it on his shoulder and trained it on the last place he’d spotted movement. There was a sharp inhale behind him, and then Jaime sneezed loudly.

The head of a wild boar whipped up and it lunged for Jason. “Shit!” he yelled. Damn kid and his perfect timing. Jason blindly jumped backward and fired a bolt at the same time. It met its target and the boar shattered into glittering dust that resembled pixels. In front of him, a notification popped up that 20 copper coins, the crossbow bolt he’d shot, and a boar tusk had been added to his inventory. Huh, that was surprisingly easy.

“Wow, that was so crash!” Cassie pumped her fists in the air. “This game is gonna be a piece of cake.”

“Not so fast,” Zatanna frowned. “Remember, this is only the first level. It’s bound to be easy. It’s only going to get harder from here.”

Jason turned around to face them. “And just because that little shit was easy to kill doesn’t mean they all will be on this level.” He noticed Jaime hanging back, looking embarrassed.

“Hey kid,” Jason jerked his chin at him. Jaime's head snapped up. “Do you want to try the next one or wait by the bridge until your allergies clear up?”

Jaime opened his mouth to respond but had to sneeze again. “I think I’ll just waid by the bridge. I’b really sorry guys.” He trekked back to where they’d come into the fields.

“And then there were three. Ladies first,” Jason mockingly bowed, gesturing to the open fields beyond where the boar had been. Zatanna smirked and Cassie stuck her tongue out at him, which he returned with a rude gesture.

#healing hands #jasonette #sword art online au #virtual reality #maribat #maribat fic #batfam #batfam fic #yj #yj fic #young justice #young justice fic

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janeofcakes · 3 years

Text

It Could Be Us

I'M BACK! Jane is back again!!

Christ, when I said I 'd have my one shot up in no time at all I had no fucking clue what I was talking about. Seriously, none whatsoever. I feel like this has taken longer than posting all of KYFC. Hopefully I got all the formatting right in the end and nothing is confusing.

In any case, here it is at last! It's my Christmas present to you. I hope you all like it. Without further ado or sass, let's get right into it.

-----

The dance floor was already packed as John walked into the club. He had expected nothing less for a Friday night, and a late one at that. It was just after eleven o’clock and the club was in full swing. The lights were low and the bass thumped a steady rhythm he could feel in the floor beneath his feet. It had been a long day at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, packed with patients and an emergency surgery right at the end that kept him late again. He had dashed out of the hospital as soon as he was finished and grabbed a cab to a chip shop around the corner from the club for a quick bite. He came straight to the club after that one detour. He had meant to arrive earlier, like nine o’clock earlier. He could only hope the man he was to meet was still here, or had been here at all. Now the pounding music and vibrating floor rippled electric sparks through his body, making him want nothing more than to join the pulsing throng of people on the floor. He had the burning desire to be free and forget everything, but he had to find someone first. The man of the hour.

John had come at his request because they had not had much time to themselves lately. Both of their jobs had ramped up and meeting together had become difficult. John bit the inside of his cheek in irritation as he scanned the floor. A night in the club, much as he enjoyed their usual haunt, did not mesh with his vision of ‘quality time’.

John puffed out a breath of annoyance as his eyes ran the length of the floor like laser beams tracking prey. Though his focus was razor sharp, it was still a challenge to find any one person amid the countless bodies crammed together in the space, but the man he was looking for was very hard to miss. He was very distinctive in his look and manner. He always put on a show for John’s benefit or was getting into a fight that he never started, as he often declared in a, frankly, obnoxious tone to everyone within five feet. John huffed again. The man he was looking for was decidedly not there and never had been, in spite of his promise.

John grumbled darkly to himself, heading for the bar and the club’s sole proprietor, Greg Lestrade. He and Greg had met some ten years ago and the club was a hotspot even then. Now it was one of the most well-known on this side of London, but still retained its own rustic-city style with brick walls and an antique, solid oak bar. So many others had strayed toward trendy and pretentious, which only made John love this place more.

“Evening,” John said as he approached the end of the bar.

“John,” Greg’s face brightened as he placed a glass in front of a woman who winked at him as she picked it up. He gave her a sort of lop-sided smile he had perfected over the years and then turned his attention to John. “Rather late for you, isn’t it? No work tomorrow?”

“My day off,” John replied with a slight laugh, leaning against the bar and resting his arm on its surface. “I need it. Ten days on and just as many late nights. I feel like the Duracell bunny, but on half full batteries from a Poundland Christmas sale.”

“And many more lives saved,” Greg reached over the bar to pat John’s shoulder. “You’re a credit to the profession.”

“Ta,” John mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush and ducking his head at the unexpected praise. He recovered quickly and gestured haphazardly behind his back. “You’re doing well yourself. Another busy night I see.”

“With me on the floor, no less,” Greg remarked looking out over the dance floor. “I forgot how hot it gets in here. Usual?”

“Ta,” John watched as Greg stepped away to grab a short glass and a bottle of Talisker.

“Sally called in sick,” Greg handed him the drink as John’s brows shot up and his jaw dropped. “Can you believe it?”

“No,” John shook his head, still holding the amber and ice-filled glass out over the bar where Greg had handed it to him. “Not Sally. No way. You’re having me on.”

“Apparently, even The Machine gets the flu,” Greg said by way of explanation. He continued with a shrug. “Who knew? To be honest, I hope it doesn’t spread around. She sounded terrible.”

Greg leaned in and rested his own elbow on the bar’s top as John took a quick sip from his drink. The burn as it slipped down his throat punctuated his mood. He had been in this situation many times before, waiting at the bar with Greg while his boyfriend remained absent, but John would damned if he let it ruin his evening this time. When Greg continued speaking, John made a concerted effort to improve his own disposition.

“Anyway, no one on the short list could make it, so here I am,” Greg grinned and gave a slight bow, “at your service, m’lud.”

“Good for you,” John laughed, placing his drink on the bar. “Keeps you humble.”

“It does at that,” Greg chortled. He watched as John’s eyes scanned the dance floor and the club’s entrance again. The smile slowly faded from Greg’s face as he headed down the bar to sort out some drinks for a few people before returning to his friend.

“You looking for him?” he finally asked, passing John a bowl of bite-sized pretzels. John nodded his thanks and tossed one back, grateful that Greg always remembered he was not a fan of crisps, at all. Greg still jibed John about it. How can you possibly like pretzels and not crisps, John? They are, more or less, the same. Just a munchie to take your mind off things. John’s rebuttal always outlined every last way in which they were, in fact, not at all the same.

“Yeah,” he replied in an even tone, not wanting to fully broadcast his irritation. Greg was perceptive though and John knew it. Damn that man learned too much about people’s tells in all his years of bar tending. “He called me at work and wanted to meet here. We’ve not seen much of each other lately.”

“Right,” Greg drew out the word just enough to convey his disbelief without being an ass about it.

“You seen him?” John asked, already knowing the answer.

“I have not,” Greg said flatly. John pursued his lips and looked away, giving a slight nod as his only confirmation.

“Have you seen…”

“No,” Greg cut him off. The two men looked at each other, brows furrowed in mutual understanding. The muscles in John’s jaw flexed as he gnashed his teeth. Greg sighed next to him and John broke eye contact only to look over the floor again in another unsuccessful attempt to find the man he sought while trying with all his might to ignore everything unsaid between them.

“Far be it for me to…” Greg began, but John raised a hand to stop him. There was no need for him to hear it all again. It made no difference. John would wait. Always.

“Then don’t,” he said sharply, meeting Greg’s eyes again. “All right. Just leave it.”

John knew it was defensive and unnecessary. Greg would never in a million years judge him, but to have this happen time and time again hurt. Greg’s words always stung, even though he meant them in the most supportive way possible. John knew he should take them to heart and he did, just not enough to do anything about it. It was true his relationship was far from perfect, but in all honesty, he really did not give a toss. It was what it was and it was easy to ignore what he did not like.

“Sure,” Greg answered after a pause with a look that told John he wanted to say more. He knew John and the whole situation far too well.

“Hey, Bossman,” a man named Roland called from down the bar. Greg and John looked his way immediately to see a bottle in each of his hands and people crowding the opposite side of the bar. “Give us a hand, mate.”

“‘Course, Rol, of course,” Greg straightened and gave John another look before walking away. You deserve better than that piece of shit. We both know and yet, look at yourself. “Be back in a few,” was what he said instead.

John waved him off and took another drink. He watched Greg and Roland mix drinks for a bit, chuckling whenever his friend fended off the flirtations of both men and women alike. The man was an enigma, never showing interest in any gender or persuasion, the ideal businessman. It was really no different from him at Bart’s, John supposed. Still, it suddenly seemed odd that in all the years he had known Greg he never mentioned a partner and John had never asked.

John frowned into his empty glass as if it held all the answers of the universe. Forty-two, as they say. He let out a short chuckle with a slight shake of his head and then a sigh as he turned his stool to look back out at the sea of dancers. Deep in thought, he was not really looking at anything at all until his eyes came into focus on a pair of ethereal blue ones staring back at him. John blinked in surprise and jerked his head back as if burnt. The stare belonged to a tall, impossibly sexy brunette who demanded space in the massive throng of heaving, shifting bodies. He danced like his body was possessed by the music itself. His limbs and movements appeared graceful, elegant and effortless in spite of the speed and vulgarity of the hip hop track that filled the air. His white shirt glowed in the blacklight above him, drawing more attention to the V of his neckline that was nothing less than a delicious, scandalous temptation where two buttons left undone exposed his pale throat. His black jeans hugged every sharp edge as well as the curve of an ass that had no right to be as plush as it was for a thin frame such as his.

John snapped his mouth closed quickly, unsure of how long his lips had been parted in wonder and awe. Too long judging by the smirk the man gave him with that sidelong glance as he continued to sway his hips. God, he did it with such skill it was obscene and John could not stop himself staring. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, and took a sip of scotch. John had seen this man here before quite a few times and he had seen him go into the back offices with Greg almost every time. He had even seen them leave together and yet, John had never asked Greg about it and Greg had not volunteered. John had simply not thought it any of his business. Now John wondered why he had never stopped to consider this one exception to Greg’s rule.

When John’s eyes came to rest on him again, he blinked and blinked again in shock. That man, that gorgeous man with legs a mile long and cheekbones sharp enough to cut yourself with was absolutely not dancing his way toward John. He was decidedly not staring at John with his mesmerizing and other worldly eyes. John’s mouth went dry again and he blinked once more for good measure, his brain seizing utterly. He watched, unable to look at anyone else as the man left the floor and swept up to the bar next to him. The man gave John a knowing smile and studied him with a sultry, but intensely intelligent gaze. Dumbfounded, John could only look back at him with wide eyes and will his own brain to work again before he truly proved himself a complete idiot.

“Hello, John,” a deep baritone, all dark chocolate and velvet rumbled from the man’s chest. John’s lips parted and he nearly gasped, but swallowed it down along with his surprise. How the hell did this man, with perfect cupid’s bow lips, know his name? “I’ve seen you here before. We have a friend in common.”

John stared at him, eyes shining with unanswered questions. The smirk he got and the tilt of the man’s head, curls bouncing in the direction down the bar. Greg. Of course, Greg. He must have told this mysterious man John’s name. The doctor tilted his head as well, unable to look away from that angular face now framed by soft, dark curls as their owner tilted his head upright again. Suddenly John’s heart skipped a beat as his mind caught up with the conversation. Did that mean this dazzling beauty had asked Greg about him?

“My name is Sherlock,” that voice continued and John fought with himself not to melt on the spot.

“Hi,” John forced his voice to croak out. “John.”

“Yes, I know,” Sherlock’s lips curled upward as his eyes studied, no read John’s face. John felt like this clever man could read his entire life with a simple glance, much less the current scrutiny. John stared like a moron as his mind caught up with the situation at hand and he closed his eyes in regret. He had just spluttered the most idiotic introduction to a man who already knew his name. God, he was so stupid.

“Sorry, sorry,” John blurted, opening his eyes to see that Sherlock had perched himself on the bar stool next to him. He seemed to have finished sizing John up and also appeared to have no intention of leaving. “I was… It’s nice to meet you.”

“You come here often,” Sherlock stated, his eyes sharp. Goddamn if he did not have the longest lashes John had ever seen.

“Greg’s a good friend,” John answered. Finally his brain seemed to be back online and able to communicate. “And I like the club.”

“And you like to dance,” the corners of Sherlock’s mouth crooked up slyly.

“You’ve seen me dance?” John asked, a little startled. This lithe specter of the dance floor had noticed him? Sherlock just replied with a satisfied and very amused expression.

“I’ve seen you too,” John continued, finding his usual confidence again. “You’re very good.”

“As are you,” Sherlock stated. He rested both elbows on the bar and laced his fingers in between, a calculating edge to his gaze. “You’re here alone.”

John’s body grew tense in an instant. His mouth pressed into a thin and serious line.

“You’re usually here with that detestable little man who drinks too much and yells at the other dancers,” Sherlock ignored the sudden change in John’s demeanor.

Instead of being angry at the slight, John eased up and huffed a laugh in spite of himself. He could feel the muscles in his body relaxing just as quickly as they had tightened and marveled for a moment at his reaction. He began to study Sherlock more intentionally.

“Yeah, that’s Jim all right,” John laughed again. “My other half.”

“Oh, yes,” Sherlock nearly choked on his words. He clearly had not deduced the full extent of their relationship. Maybe Sherlock had not asked Greg about him after all. John’s heart sank a little. Then he saw Sherlock’s eyes fall to his left hand, looking for a ring then. John’s heartbeat sped up just a bit for that gesture alone.

“Sorry,” Sherlock mumbled awkwardly.

“Think nothing of it. Jim can be a real dick when he wants to be,” John reassured him with a friendly smile. “Takes a while to warm up to him.”

The skin beneath Sherlock’s eyes contracted slightly as he looked at John thoughtfully. The doctor could tell there were a myriad of questions turning circles in his mind and he was trying to pick one to start with. Rather than wait for it, John decided to counter with one of his own. One that was much on his mind at the moment.

“You usually leave with Greg,” it was not a question, but John’s voice rose with it as though it was. His Machiavellian expression made sure Sherlock understood his meaning, the underlying question in John’s uttered statement. The man was completely unphased by John’s directness, smiling and huffing a quiet laugh as he threw a handful of pretzels in his mouth.

“We’re flatmates,” he clarified with an easy shrug and then added after taking in the change in John’s features: “Yes, just flatmates. We keep each other honest.”

“Oh?” John tilted his head, interest peaked by that casual statement. “What does that mean?”

“I make sure he leaves this place once in a while and he makes sure I sleep on occasion,” Sherlock smirked, holding a pretzel between his index and middle fingers.

“Alone?” John asked mischievously and Sherlock snorted, obviously quite amused.

“Yes, alone,” he confirmed with a good-natured nod. “I don’t do romantic liaisons or spend meaningful moments with people.”

Sherlock’s face pulled itself together as if John had told him to bathe in the Thames for the foreseeable future. A smile instantly appeared on John’s face and he huffed a quick laugh as he watched the man before him.

“My time is far too valuable to spend it with such frivolities and imbeciles,” the brunette continued with his nose wrinkled as though the steak and kidney pie had gone decidedly off.

“And why is that?” John leaned further onto the bar, extremely interested now. He was not sure if it was because this man was a friend of Greg’s or just that he was so damn interesting, but John thoroughly enjoyed teasing him and was not about to stop. Maybe being in the club on his own tonight was not so bad after all. “What is it that keeps the great Sherlock…”

“Holmes,” the man supplied when John paused, the dramatic effect it created not lost on either of them.

“...Holmes so busy?” John extended his hand to wave with a flourish between the two of them. Sherlock watched him with smiling eyes and a dazzling grin on his face.

“I assist the police when they are out of their depth, which is always,” Sherlock answered, growing quite serious. “I am a Consulting Detective.”

John could see the cautious pride shining through the haughty answer.

“Yeah? And they pay you for sticking your nose in?” was the first thing that popped out of John’s mouth. God only knows why. He was not usually such a tease, nor such an idiot. He watched the flicker of hurt slither over the brunette’s expressive face and bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from repeatedly hitting his head against the bar counter. Nothing like opening his mouth and inserting his foot all the way down his own throat, he mused of his actions, especially considering he was in a somewhat relationship with Jim and all, but there was something about this man. It was something so powerful and too complicated for John to understand just yet.

“Yes, as well as private clients,” Sherlock remarked sharply. His brow wrinkled in confusion, creating a ridge across the bridge of his nose that had John holding back a smile. “Why wouldn’t they pay me?”

“Uh, no reason. I just.. I’ve never heard of it before,” John replied slowly, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I should think not. I invented it,” Sherlock said haughtily, the pleasure obvious in his whole body. A sudden laugh burst from John’s lips, taking both men by surprise. Sherlock’s features were just beginning to harden when John caught his breath to speak.

“That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed, clapping the taller man on the shoulder and beaming at him with bright eyes, their depths growing even more blue with his merriment. “It sounds amazing.”

He pulled a now stunned Sherlock in so their heads were close together. Their faces only inches apart, John eyed the man with an almost childlike excitement.

“How do you do it?” John asked in a tone that bubbled with enthusiasm. “Are you a psychologist or a profiler or some mad genius who uses his power for the greater good? You know, all tall, dark, handsome and broody, but really on the side of the angels?”

John chuckled at his own quirkiness and somehow knew Sherlock would understand his sense of humor perfectly. Sure enough, the man’s mouth curled into a knowing smile and he cocked a brow. The expression made John think of Loki, God of Mischief himself. His chest gave into a tingling squeeze and he delighted in the pleasurable shivers rushing over his head and back.

“All of the above,” Sherlock said simply and John laughed heartily, his head ducking in even closer to Sherlock’s.

“I don’t doubt it,” John chuckled. He met Sherlock’s eyes. “I’d love to hear about it. Somewhere else,” he took a steadying breath. What the hell was he doing? “Quieter so we don’t have to yell.”

John’s eyes bounced to Sherlock’s lips for a brief moment and his gut clenched. Before he could beat himself up for blatantly flirting, their eyes locked and he saw the answer in Sherlock’s before he heard the confirmation in his words.

“I know a restaurant not far from here,” Sherlock replied quickly and decisively. “It’s open late and I know the owner.”

“Did you help him with a case?” John blurted with ardor.

“I got him off a murder charge,” Sherlock answered in amusement, his rumbling baritone honeyed with satisfaction. John gulped, so caught up in the sheer brilliance of this man. There were a thousand questions in John’s mind and he wanted to ask every single one as soon as they could get out of the club with its loud beat, blaring music and tons of people.

“Absolutely! I’d love to...oh,” he stopped himself mid-sentence and his face fell, coming to his senses before getting far in his reply. Releasing Sherlock’s shoulder and straightening up, John remembered why he was here tonight. Jim was the whole reason for even being in the club. He could not just leave.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” John muttered, barely loud enough to hear over the din. Disappointment shown thick on his face and in his tone. “I’m meeting someone.”

Sherlock made no reply and simply watched as John lowered his eyes to the floor. Damn it, John wanted to go with this man. He needs to go with this man, but it would not be right. Oh, fuck it all. Fuck Jim and whatever he may think. He was always sneaking around with Moran anyway. Let him think John was sneaking around for a change.

No. John dismissed that as soon as he thought it. That was not why he wanted to leave the club with Sherlock. John had no interest in making Jim jealous. He just wanted to spend more time with the fascinating consulting detective. My god, John wanted to learn all he could: his work, how he had conceived of it, how he met Greg, everything. John had never been so drawn to a person in his life and was more than a little pissed off to have met him tonight when he was here waiting for fucking Jim Moriarty to show up.

“Dance with me,” Sherlock said suddenly when the tempo of the music changed and echoed around them. John blinked at him, the words bringing him back from his thoughts. Sherlock was serious. He knew why John was at the club, who he was waiting for, and he was serious.

“I can’t,” John’s voice was dull, but his face was full of surprise. “I have a boyfriend.”

“I know,” Sherlock replied steadily, not backing down.

“But I’m waiting for him,” John told him dumbly with an exasperated sigh. Nothing like abandoning any attempt at being articulate.

“No one should ever keep you waiting, John,” Sherlock said with conviction. John tucked his chin, turning his head slightly, but kept his eyes on Sherlock. A crease formed on his forehead and his brow furrowed as he tried to wrap his head around this man. He clearly knew far more about John than John did of him, either from Greg or his own deductions. It was also clear that he was very keen on spending more time with John. The doctor was both dumbfounded and thrilled by this knowledge.

John opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There were so many things John wanted to say and could give voice to none. The words just hung there in his mind and refused to become the sentences he needed.

“I could be your boyfriend,” Sherlock’s deep voice halted John’s mind completely.

“What?” John struggled to understand. “But I have…”

“He isn’t here,” Sherlock cut him off in a soft but firm tone. John looked at him with unabashed confusion and disbelief. Sherlock swallowed and placed a hand on John’s. The doctor stared at it with wide eyes that shifted back to Sherlock’s. “Just for this song… I could be your boyfriend.”

“I shouldn’t. I…” John looked into his eyes and everything stopped. John did not even hear the music anymore. Sherlock’s eyes were... mysterious. John had thought they were blue, but now they appeared silver, green, blue. They seemed to shift with every thought that passed through that brilliant mind. How had John never noticed before? Simple, really. He had never been this close to Sherlock before and certainly never thought he would be. John was always here with Jim, and Moran and the whole entourage. Naturally, he danced with Jim, but his eyes had always found Sherlock.

Sherlock on the dance floor with his long, elegant limbs and swaying hips. Such amazing hips. He could move like no one John had seen in real life and it was captivating. Lithe and smooth, every step and swoop and shift in perfect alignment with the music. Sherlock effortlessly danced to any song or genre and Greg’s DJs liked to mix it up too. From hip hop to techno via pop or the 80s. They were even known to throw in slow songs so patrons could relive their high school prom nights. Jim always wrapped his arms around John and snuffled into his neck during those songs. John had tried to do the same, but his heart was never in it, especially during the last few months.

John and Jim had started growing apart a long time ago. They were happy once and for quite a while, in fact. They met when John was still in med school during the A&E rotation. Jim was working in construction and had sliced a substantial gash in his forearm. They hit it off while John stitched him up and Jim asked him out before he left for home that night. The rest, as they say, was history.

A few months in, they began staying the night in one another’s flats, but did not even think about moving in together. John could not explain why, and Jim had asked regularly, but he was not ready for such a big step. It was something that would truly bind them together and John was not certain he wanted that. Two years later, John was out of school and already a skilled surgeon. Jim had climbed the ranks quickly and now owned his own construction company. Then Sebastian Moran came into the picture. Jim had hired him as an assistant. It was a typical occurrence for John to put in late nights or be called in for emergencies, but then Jim started working late too. John thought nothing of it at first, but it did not take long to figure it out. In spite of his somewhat jealous nature, John said nothing. It was easier to let it go and just make excuses to Jim about why he could not stay nights at John’s flat.

John first noticed Sherlock at Greg’s club a year ago. John was there with Jim and a slow song had just started as Jim began to pick a fight with a rather large and nasty-looking man. John pulled him onto the dance floor and tucked his chin to his own shoulder to calm him down. A few bars into the song and John’s eyes had found Sherlock. He was wrapped around another tall man, both equal in height, all the parts of their bodies lined up perfectly for the dirtiest dancing John had witnessed in a long time. He had tried not to watch them, but could not stop himself. Sherlock, still nameless to him at that time, was simply captivating.

John noticed him on the dance floor a few more times after that night and Sherlock was always dancing with a different man. This new knowledge had befuddled John. He had assumed Sherlock and the tall man were together, but that was clearly not the case. He started paying more attention and his hunch was confirmed every time he saw Sherlock at the club. That was when John started to keep track of who Sherlock left the club with and it was Greg. Only ever Greg. He had wanted to ask Greg about it so badly, but never did. He respected his friend’s privacy and part of him did not want to know whether or not Sherlock was attached to anyone in general, or to Greg in particular.

Whatever their relationship, John could not stop noticing Sherlock when he was on the dance floor and he carried the guilt of it wherever he went. He should not, should never lust after a friend’s boyfriend the way he did after Sherlock, but there were Sherlock’s arms lifting and swaying, lowering slowly and gracefully. Then his undulating hips and his ass, that gorgeous, plush ass in perfectly fitted jeans, swishing and thrusting to the beat. God, it was like watching pornography and now Sherlock was here, right in front of John and not at all with Greg and asking John to dance with him. It was unbelievable, and John was about to say no. Why the fuck would he say no? Why when part of him had secretly hoped for this exact scenario to occur one day?

“Okay,” John said suddenly in a voice that did not sound like his own.

Sherlock’s eyes lit up, making them sparkle a decidedly silver sheen and a brilliant smile spread across his full lips. He offered a hand and John took it, allowing himself to be led onto the floor. As they found a place within the other bodies around them, piano chords rang out through the club and a pure tone began to sing lyrics so ironic that John could not help but smile.

In the faded light you touch my body

I can feel your hands on my skin

Think you got me right where you want me

But you’re just in my way.

John and Sherlock both swayed skillfully, waiting for the tempo to pick up and for the playful chorus to kick in. Sherlock rolled his shoulders to the music, snapping his head back with the flare of a flamenco dancer at just the right moment. His curls floated through the air for just a moment as though defying gravity’s bonds and then fell artfully around his face as he gave John a cheeky smirk. John could not help and laughed as the song broke open and they both began moving to the faster beat. The music and lyrics wrapped around them as they pulsed their way through the two men’s bodies and minds.

I came to party on my oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-wn

Don’t need nobody in my so-oh-oh-oh-ng

I get down to the beat, I lose contro-oh-oh-oh-l

Hey, oh, I go so-oh-oh so-oh-oh-lo

Both men reached their stride as the chorus and the fun continued. John popped his chest to the beat, moving his bent arms in counterpoint and shifting his weight with what the rhythm provided. Sherlock’s hips swayed with his dancing feet and he lifted his hands above his head.

Boy, you can cool it dow-ow-ow-ow-ow-own

Not here to fool arou-ow-ow-ow-ound

Just wanna dance, dance, dance

Dance, dance, dance

They started the song a respectable, casual distance apart, as any two new acquaintances would. Clearly still dancing together and that space was maintained throughout the duration. Honestly, John could not care less because dancing like this, to have fun and be free was exactly what he needed. It felt so liberating to just move without feeling the urge to prove something to himself or to Jim, and dancing Sherlock just felt right. Really, really right. Even though they had only just met, John had already begun to feel as though their actual introduction had taken place a long time ago.

Another song began that was one of John’s favorites and he let out a hoot as the faster beat took hold of his body. He switched his weight from one foot to the other, turning his body to match, sometimes twice in the same direction before changing.

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll

Don’t care if you think I’m dumb, I don’t care at all

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored

I’m the girl you’d die for

John’s moves intensified as the verse came to an end and he began to mouth the words in anticipation of the chorus, giving Sherlock a cheeky grin as he did it. The man matched his expression and movements beat for beat.

I’m Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips

Hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

I’m Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips

I’m gonna be your bubblegum bitch

John was enjoying himself so thoroughly, he almost did not notice Sherlock slowly closing the gap between them. It was not a huge shift of the space between them. Sherlock was not suddenly up in his business, grinding against his leg, but he was closer nonetheless. The tips of John’s ears prickled with heat and not just from the dancing. His whole body was hot with it. A burning deep inside of him, just like the feeling low in his stomach was not so much from nervousness as it was from anticipation of what was yet to come. Would Sherlock inch even closer? Did John want him to? Goddamn right he did.

There was no fade out. One song moved seamless and fluidly into the next. This one took them into a heavier beat and a more forceful step. The drums and velveteen rough voice brought the floor into a darker place and the lights went down to match it. As if reading John’s mind, Sherlock stepped closer to him almost as soon as the song began. He lip-synced the words and drifted around John where he danced. The mysterious and sultry look on Sherlock’s face pulled John’s eyes in as he moved. As the first verse neared its end, Sherlock’s fingers scraped across John’s chest and lingered as they slid around to his back. The doctor’s skin tingled along the trail of Sherlock’s hands, the touch powerful in spite of the fabric between them. John’s mind jumped in his skull to thoughts he never would have anticipated when he walked into the club: God, to feel Sherlock’s skin on his. Nothing between them, no clothes, no air, no space. It would be electric. John swallowed back a groan as he continued to watch those silver-green eyes take in his every movement. Shit, the man could probably read his mind.

Since I thought you and me

Well, I am imagining a dark lit place

Or your place or my place

Well, I’m not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you

I wanna make you move because you’re standing still

When the chorus began, both John and Sherlock leaned forward toward each other. John’s lips parted and new droplets of sweat bloomed at his hairline. Not just from the dancing, but from the desire pooling in his belly and the thoughts taking root in his mind. John quickly lifted a hand and wiped his forehead in an almost unconscious gesture. He had never eye-fucked someone so hard in his life and every bit of the effort was reciprocated.

If your body matches what your eyes can do

You’ll probably move right through me on my way to you

Their faces were dangerously close again. John could feel Sherlock’s breath ghosting over his face and he found himself wishing, hoping for the other man to do something. They pulled away to stand side by side, staring into one another’s eyes before moving in different directions to curl their bodies in identical fluid motions. They met again a moment later, back to back and angled in the same direction, their cheeks pressed together. John pushed against the taller man and he leaned into John as they slowly dropped low and raised up again, snapped their heads back and broke apart to dance in their own idioms again.

Sherlock rolled his hips and head, fingers sinking in his hair. John was dancing just as enthusiastically, but also completely mesmerized. He had not felt anything like it in some time and he did not even try to stop it. It was the feeling of attraction and one so strong he gravitated toward it like a moth to a flame. His life was suddenly full of possibility and so intoxicating John could never turn away. He and Sherlock fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. There was no denying it, but did Sherlock feel it too or was John just another person on the dance floor?

Suddenly the lights went up and a new song filled the club. Sherlock turned his head toward John and he felt the puff of Sherlock’s hot breath on his neck. A shiver traveled down the length of his spine and he hoped Sherlock had not noticed, but was quite certain he had. To John’s great delight, Sherlock seemed genuinely pleased with what he saw.

“I believe I misjudged you, John,” Sherlock called over the noise around them, his face every bit the smug bureaucrat who is too posh for his own good. John raised his brows in response, an unspoken question on his lips. He wanted to take whatever Sherlock was about to say seriously, but how could he possibly do it when he had that look on his face? Sherlock continued in a very superior tone, barely keeping the corners of his mouth from quirking upwards. “You’re a much better dancer than I expected.”

A wide grin spread across John’s face as Sherlock began to chuckle. He shook his head a little and laughed with the snarky detective. Without a thought, he reached up and cupped the back of Sherlock’s neck, tugging his face down until it was close to his own. John looked into his eyes, wide with surprise, and moved in closer. Their cheeks brushed as John pressed his lips to the taller man’s ear and the sensation weakened his knees.

“You’re amazing,” John uttered with nothing less than awe. That was not quite what he had meant to say. Then again, what had he intended upon saying? John pulled back, biting his bottom lip in embarrassment, unsure of how to explain that one away. Sherlock’s cool eyes looked back at him without a hint of reproach as a deep, melodic voice boomed over the floor.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you

Sherlock’s hands found John’s waist and they began to dance in a slow shift. They moved their bodies so one shoulder was forward and then the other. By the third line, they had separated so they could better move to the solid beat and bright trumpet sound, but remained connected by holding one hand or even both.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin?

I can’t help falling in love with you

As the river flows gently to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Sherlock lifted John’s hand high to draw him in and used his other hand to guide John into a quick turn so his back ended up flush against the front of Sherlock’s body. John pulled Sherlock’s hand down and caught hold of the other one too. As the music swelled, John rested their hands on his hips and they ground together, bending their knees a bit and inching down lower. John tilted his head back to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder, closed his eyes and nearly moaned.

Some things were meant to be

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

‘Cause I can’t help falling in love with you

As the song continued, the other dancers and the club with its lights and noise fell away. Suddenly, John and Sherlock were the only two people for miles around. It was just them and the music. They danced and danced and the song seemed to go on forever. John turned to face Sherlock, their bodies still close together and hips moving as one. John looked into those grey eyes, sparkling and bright, and completely lost himself in them. They were not the eyes of a stranger he had just met or someone he had seen from across the club, but those of a friend. A friend he had known for years and who knew John as well as he knew himself. Those eyes filled John with comfort and a longing to go to that restaurant Sherlock had suggested, leaving Jim behind for good. Of all the time John had spent with Jim, he could not think of a single one when he saw this much in his eyes.

John blinked when he felt Sherlock’s hands rest heavily on his shoulders. The man was still swaying in perfect time with John, who must have been on auto-pilot, but wore a look of mild concern on his face. Sherlock tilted his head as if to ask “You okay?”. John grinned sheepishly and nodded as the music swelled one last time. Both men, as well as everyone on the floor, threw their hands up and sang.

I can’t help falling in love with you

No, I can’t help falling in love with you

The close of the song bled right into the next one. Without missing a beat or pausing for awkwardness, Sherlock held one of John’s hands to his chest and slid the other around the shorter man’s waist, taking the lead. John put his hand on Sherlock’s hip, flashing a sly smile and effectively stealing the lead. Sherlock laughed and followed John as he set the pace for their steps. Around them, the whole dance floor began to relax after the long stint of nothing but fast and furious. Many headed for the bar to make Greg’s night incredibly harried once again.

John’s throat was dry and his body covered with a sheen of sweat, but he was not about to move an inch from where they stood together. He was truly glad and even excited for the time to touch and study this man. The music swells and ebbs away with them swaying to it. A soft fade set the stage for the signature voice of Spandau Ballet to begin.

So true, funny how it seems always in time, but never in line for dreams

Head over heels and toe to toe

John’s chest opened and it felt like all the force of Sherlock’s feelings rushed in, like when an anime character is enveloped with light and energy.

This is the sound of my soul

This is the sound

There was no question in John’s mind that what was happening to him was the same for Sherlock.

“So what do you do for the police?” John asked. It was a question of many, not all pertaining to what “consulting detective” meant, but it was as good a place as any to start. “What does a ‘consulting detective’ do?”

“I see the evidence no one else can,” Sherlock answered after a pause. “I make the connections immediately and tell the police what to do next, where to go. I read people.”

“Read people?” John’s brow rose to his hairline. “What? You mean you can tell what a person is thinking?”

“More like who they are,” Sherlock replied. “What they do and where they live. What their motivations are. That sort of thing.”

“You can tell all that by just looking at someone?” John’s lips parted in a smile of disbelief.

“Yes. Let me show you,” Sherlock turned his chin and looked out at the people around them. “Look at that woman at the bar.”

“Can you be more specific?” John laughed, but looked anyway in the direction Sherlock pointed with his head. “There are quite a few.”

“The one in pink with the dark hair and flashy belt,” Sherlock directed John’s eyes until his gaze settled on a middle-aged woman holding a martini. She was laughing at something the man with her, clad in a trendy-cut white suit, had said. He tapped his G & T against her glass in a toast.

“The one with the husband in the tacky suit?” John inquired and cringed. “He must glow in the dark when the blacklights are on.”

“Not her husband,” Sherlock corrected, his tone flat. John’s brows shot up again as he met the detective’s sharp eyes.

“I’m listening,” John said cooly, but with extreme interest.

“She lives outside of London and travels in more often than necessary for business, which she does actually do while here so she doesn’t feel as guilty, but she mostly comes to see him,” Sherlock explained in a confident tone. He sounded as if he was reading a book. It could not possibly be something he just made up on the fly and John was captivated. He watched Sherlock’s face as it flowed from one expression to another. “They favor this club because no one who knows them typically patronizes dance clubs. Not to mention the atmosphere lends itself well to a certain anonymity for all its patrons.”

Sherlock stopped a moment to insert a turn in their dance, in spite of the fact that he was not leading. John followed along with a quiet chuckle. Sherlock added a series of steps that ended with them closer to the edge of the dance floor, but still far enough away from the bar and the couple they were watching. Dozens of people talking and laughing at tables separated them. Even if the woman or her lover looked out to the dance floor and saw Sherlock and John, neither would think anything of it.

“Her daughter died recently,” Sherlock said. “In the last four years and she has taken up with this man to start a new life, but can’t let go of the old one. She doesn’t love her husband anymore, but feels she would lose what little of her daughter she has left. She clearly shared physical characteristics with her father, likely the eyes and nose. Seeing them in her husband’s face brings the woman comfort.”

John’s forehead crinkled with doubt, his lips curling into a skeptical smirk.

“How could you possibly know all that?” he cocked a brow and tucked his chin, pulling away from Sherlock slightly for a better look at him. “You’re having me on. You just made that up.”

“On the contrary, John,” Sherlock leaned his head in and gazed directly into John’s eyes with his pair of intense, calculating ones. “I not only see, but observe. I use this place not only for the pleasure of dancing and the delight of Greg’s company, but also to hone my skills. I observe the patterns, the evidence, and draw conclusions. I am never wrong.”

“Okay,” John stumbled over his own thoughts, trying to comprehend, “but how can you know all that from just…”

“Tonight?” Sherlock interrupted. A sly grin spread across his features and he shook his head slowly. “You forget that I’m here nearly every time you are and more. This place is a hotbed of experiments for me, an opportunity to sharpen my skills and occasionally solve a case.”

John’s eyes widened slightly, intrigued with both the mystery and the man himself. John’s tongue darted over his bottom lip and he noticed Sherlock’s eyes flick to them momentarily before explaining his deductions.

“They never arrive together and one waits for the other in a different, inconspicuous place each time,” Sherlock continued. “She gives him a hotel key card each time so she doesn’t have to bring a handbag. They leave together and always in the same direction, presumably to said hotel. There is a pale ring around the third finger of her left hand where the rest of her skin is tanned. She never takes off the bracelet she wears and it has a single charm that is actually the heart-shaped pendant from a child’s necklace.”

John glanced at the woman laughing again with her partner as he considered Sherlock’s words.

“Their pattern of frequency and the days on which their meetings occur suggest visits to the city for business and he is clearly not a colleague,” Sherlock added.

They watched as the man leaned in for a gentle kiss that she reciprocated. The couple appeared to be very taken with one another, very much in love, not desperate to get out of the club and into bed like new lovers. As if reading his mind, Sherlock leaned in to whisper in John’s ear.

“They have been involved for quite some time. You can see it,” he muttered. The soft wisp of his breath made John shiver and he turned to face him, their faces dangerously close.

“I could explain further, but do you really need me to?” Sherlock asked, his eyes flicking to John’s lips again.

“No,” John breathed. He shook his head slightly, staring at Sherlock agog. His mouth hung open a moment longer before stretching into a smile. “That was...amazing.”

Sherlock’s breath hitched and he pulled back to steady his gaze on John. The doctor’s grip tightened slightly in response as if determined to keep the man right where he stood.

This much is true.

This much is true-oo-oo

“You really think so?” Sherlock’s brow creased with confusion as John studied his reaction. It was positively endearing, perhaps because it was so unexpected. Sherlock had obviously made his deductions to impress, but still seemed genuinely surprised by John’s response. He was not used to being praised for his abilities, which told John all he needed to know about some of the assholes at New Scotland Yard.

“Yes,” John grinned up at him, pulling back a bit as the song came to an end, “of course. That was extraordinary.”

“That’s not what people usually say,” Sherlock mumbled after watching John for a moment. The next song increased in volume as the last one faded away. The prom-themed dance continued as John’s cheeks tinted at the thought that he and Sherlock were a couple. He hoped the detective had not noticed as he asked the next question curiously.

“What do people usually say?” John wondered, trying to divert attention from his pink cheeks. Too quickly, but Sherlock made no sign that he had noticed.

“Piss off,” he replied and John could not help but burst into laughter. Fortunately, a smile bloomed on Sherlock’s face as well, a glint of mischief and genuine amusement flickering through his eyes.

“Well, believe me, it isn’t. It’s bloody brilliant, that’s what it is,” John remarked as he changed their step slightly to fit with the new song. John took both of Sherlock’s hands in his and stepped back, putting more space between the two of them. Their arms outstretched, fingers laced together, they mirrored one another’s movements and smiles as a cheerful voice filled the club.

When people keep repeating that you’ll never fall in love

When everybody keeps retreating, but you can’t seem to get enough

Let my love open the door

Let my love open the door to your heart

“Do someone else,” John urged, his voice full of excitement. He looked around quickly to find someone with a tale to tell. His eyes fell on a tall, thin man with disheveled brown hair that fell to his shoulders in layers. His chin and cheeks were covered by a full beard and mustache that betrayed his age with shades of grey, as did the lines around his eyes. He was dancing in a group with four other people, but more or less on his own. There was something about his appearance, his jumper and corduroy pants that made him look like someone who wore an aluminum foil hat at home.

“Do him!” John exclaimed, jerking his head to his left. Sherlock’s amused gaze followed and picked out the man instantly. He looked back at John with narrowed eyes and a knowing smirk.

“Accountant. Recently subscribed to a conspiracy theory that the company he works for is secretly financing an investigation into the death of John Lennon, who he believes is still alive and hiding somewhere in Yorkshire,” Sherlock stated as his feet took a step forward and back to the rhythm. He pulled John in a bit so they were closer when John gave him a stunned look. “There is no investigation, of course, and Lennon is most certainly dead. Not so in the mind of our friend with the beard, which he grew for his lover.”

John’s eyes widened.

“Affair with a colleague,” Sherlock said by way of explanation. “Her husband won’t grow facial hair and she likes the way it feels on her nether regions.”

A burst of laughter popped from John’s mouth before he could stop himself. It was so loud that he quickly pressed his lips together again and glanced toward the man for fear of drawing too much attention and giving them away. He need not have worried. The club was far too noisy for anyone to notice. Sherlock smirked, his eyes bright with amusement.

“He is concerned she will discover his suspicions about the company and Lennon and dump him,” he finished triumphantly. “There’s more, of course, but those are the highlights.”

“That’s…” John began as every part of his face brightened with delight, “unbelievable.”

He jerked their hands down to their sides, pulling Sherlock into his personal space and fixed him with a smoldering gaze.

“You have to explain how you know all that,” John nearly growled, “but later. Do someone else now.”

Sherlock’s criminally full lips quirked and his eyes warmed at the challenge, revealing shining flecks of green. For the next few minutes, Sherlock selected the most interesting subjects from the people around them and revealed the various secrets of their lives. Most were fairly normal with a few stranger outliers. It was all fantastic as far as John was concerned. From the boring Tesco clerk who snuck crisps and biscuits while stocking the shelves to the florist who taught her parrot to say ‘fuck you’ to troublesome costumers, John soaked in every word like a sponge.

By the time Sherlock finished, they were well into another song. It was the third in a string of songs that couples could use to their advantage, which meant there would be one more and then faster songs would rule again. John and Sherlock would have to part and dance further apart again. It was the last thing John wanted.

They had moved in closer again, seemingly unable to be apart for any length of time. They were not pressed together like the other people around them, but John’s hands rested comfortably around Sherlock’s waist and Sherlock’s fingers were wrapped around John’s biceps in a tender embrace. Their steps had turned into something more like a mere shuffling of feet as the great detective spoke quietly and John laughed or did double-takes. Everything about it was delicious and there was not a thought in John’s head that was not about this man.

John leaned forward to rest his forehead against Sherlock’s chest. He felt Sherlock’s breath falter and straightened again in a shot. He stared at Sherlock while internally berating himself for spoiling the moment. He swallowed hard, his mind searching for words and coming up empty. To his relief, their stilted movements grew more easy and relaxed as they listened to the lyrics drifting around them.

I never thought I’d lay me heart on the line, but everything about you is tellin’ me this time

It’s forever, this time I know and there’s no doubt in my mind

Forever, until my life is through

“You really are brilliant,” John said sincerely. He bit his lip as he watched Sherlock’s face slip from one expression to another. It was not the best thing to say and John had meant to say Sherlock’s deductions were brilliant, but he could not take it back and part of him did not want to.

A very big part.

“Do someone else,” John suggested lightly. Sherlock looked relieved and he let his eyes wander all around, looking for the next subject. John pressed his lips together and licked them with trepidation, never taking his own eyes off the taller man. “Do me?”

Sherlock’s expression changed in a heartbeat and his relaxed posture tightened into stiff muscles. His smile vanished, becoming a clenched jaw with muscles working beneath the skin. John felt the open door between them slam shut. Sherlock released his hold on John’s arms and began to step away. Shit, John was not entirely sure what he did wrong, but he had to make it right.

“John…”

“Hey, no, no,” John grabbed Sherlock’s wrists so he could not disappear in the mass of people on the floor. John knew that Sherlock would make sure John never saw him again unless he wanted him to. Panic creeped into his voice as he continued. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to… I just… Don’t go. Please.”

He studied John with more than a little hesitation, but did not try to pull away again.

“I can’t,” Sherlock said in a shaky voice. He pressed his lips together, curling them in on one another. “People don’t like hearing my deductions. They don’t like that I know their secrets.”

“But they’re blindsided, Sherlock,” John ventured. “I’m asking and I think it’s fantastic. I do. It’s amazing.”

“John, I…” Sherlock ducked his head and then met John’s eyes. “I don’t want to drive you away.”

“You won’t,” John answered, face open but decisive. He gave Sherlock’s wrists a squeeze. “Please.”

They looked at one another in silence for a long moment, both gauging the other. Standing still in a sea of moving bodies.

I see my future when I look in your eyes

It took your love to make my heart come alive

‘Cause I lived my life believin’ all love is blind

But everything about you is tellin’ me this time

It’s forever

“You’re a doctor,” Sherlock began to say. His words were slow and careful. John gave him a warm smile and started swaying again. He let go of Sherlock’s wrist to slide a light hand to his waist and Sherlock obliged by moving closer and resting his own hand on John’s shoulder. John nodded in encouragement for him to continue. Sherlock eyed him with apprehension as he opened his mouth to speak.

“A surgeon, in fact and a skilled one at that. You consult with patients, who appreciate your bedside manner, but are also the first they call for emergencies,” Sherlock paused, looking more comfortable and resolute. He pressed on. “As a result, you spend a great deal of time at the hospital. St. Bart’s.”

John’s eyes widened and he wondered how Sherlock could know which hospital. He did not ask, unwilling to interrupt the brilliant man before him.

“You keep a rather modest flat, despite being able to afford more because you don’t see the point in having something extravagant. You spend little wakeful time at home,” Sherlock was on a roll now. The impressive line of his shoulders was relaxed and his jaw loosened. “You could change your hours, of course. You haven’t been at Bart’s long, but have the clout to do it already.”

Sherlock hesitated, studying John carefully. John knew immediately that Sherlock was not looking for more information. He had all of that already. Sherlock was assessing the damage his words might do to their budding friendship, or romance?

“Go on,” John prompted casually, trying only a little to hide his excitement at what Sherlock might say next. His words seemed to settle something inside of Sherlock and he continued.

“You don’t want to change anything about it though,” he stopped and studied John with great interest, the skin beneath his eyes contracting in thought and recognition. “You have a boyfriend and for some time, in fact, but you don’t live together by design. You were close once. Now you can count the number of times he’s been to your flat in the last six months on both hands. You have been to his more, though still not often and you never to stay the night. You have not been intimate for at least a year, but still enjoy spending time together as friends and you’ve wondered if that might not be the better route,” Sherlock sounded as though he could not stop himself if he tried now and John felt a little hot under the collar. The mad genius was definitely going to explain how he knew all of this.

“You even suspect he is seeing someone else. He has increased the time he spends with a certain friend, especially in the last four months, but you have done nothing to alter your relationship,” Sherlock gazed at John for a long moment, obviously seeing his growing irritation. His lips parted in what might have been an apology, but instead Sherlock spoke firmly. “He is not cheating.”

John’s body jerked back a touch at that, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Not physically anyway,” Sherlock clarified and actually looked a bit sad, “but an emotional connection really is more of a betrayal.”

With that, both men were silent. John’s eyes were still wide with shock, his lips parted. He searched for something to say, but did not think he could speak if he tried. There was no way Sherlock could know all that, especially about Jim. He could not possibly...and yet, John believed him. He let it wash over him as he and Sherlock continued to shuffle their feet. They moved slowly, nothing like their energetic dancing earlier in the night. John considered Jim, thinking about things he had avoided for months. Staying in the relationship, such as it was, made no sense and was not fair to either of them. It was not what John wanted and yet, whenever John thought about the time Jim spent with Moran it angered him, but why? Jim deserved to be happy as much as John did and if that was with Moran, then so be it.

“But now…” Sherlock’s voice pulled John back to himself and the dance floor where he had been moving by rote. His eyes focused back into the here and now, and he blinked at Sherlock’s thoughtful gaze. “You may have found someone else who’s worthwhile. A reason to change.”

Sherlock’s words stopped abruptly, as did their movements. Couples holding each other close swayed around them, but did not bump into them somehow. Sherlock’s body was rigid to match John’s, his face startled and filled with dread. He knew he had said too much. All of it was true, of course, right down to the notion that John was toying with the idea of asking Sherlock out on a proper date, but to say it aloud with so much presumption, because there could be no doubt as to who “someone else” referred to. Sherlock had inserted himself right into John’s life with the ease of that one comment and was clearly petrified John would be angry, insulted even. They had only just met, after all.

“It could be us,” Sherlock blurted suddenly. John half wondered if the man knew he had said it out loud, but his wide eyes and scarlet cheeks told John he did. “I could be yours, if you would be mine.”

Sherlock fell silent again, his lips clamping shut as though they had acted of their own accord and he had finally managed to regain control of them. John stared into his horrified face and blinked. The initial surge of anger John had felt began to drain from his body, not even replaced with shock like Sherlock. To his surprise, John felt completely at ease and something he had not experienced in months sparked at the back of his mind: the warm glow of happiness. It bloomed through his mind and filled his body with light energy that John readily embraced.

He looked at the man in front of him with wonder. He felt as though he had known Sherlock all his life, despite knowing virtually nothing about him. It was a feeling, a touch. John’s hand found Sherlock’s where it hung at his side and opened his mouth to speak.

Yeah!

The voice rang out sharply over the mass of people eliciting a loud cheer from the crowd. Prom time was over and everyone sprang into action, including Sherlock. Wanting to erase his words and the awkwardness from John’s mind, he raised his arms straight up and moved his lithe body in an obscene wave timed perfectly with the rhythm. He threw his head back at the next “Yeah” and when his gaze fell on John again, it was searing. John stood watching in shock. He could not comprehend the sudden change in Sherlock’s demeanor. As John struggled through the confusion and lingering awkwardness, he opened his mouth to speak, but was rendered speechless when Sherlock took a step closer. He lowered his arms, fingers skimming along his body as they went and resting on his own undulating hips. He turned his back to John, looking over his shoulder with those smoldering eyes, swinging and rocking his lush ass. He was just close enough to barely bump into John’s groin, filling him with a teasing pleasure.

His mouth watering and cock twitching with interest, John leapt into the perfect accompaniment to Sherlock’s sultry moves as another voice began to sound.

Up in the club with my homies, trying to get a lil’ V-I

Keep it down on the low key

You should know how it feels

Sherlock popped his body to the beat, looking every bit the king of the dance floor. He was like a six foot tall snake slithering both elegantly and suggestively into John’s space and out again. It was the hottest goddamn thing John had seen in all his life.

She’s saying, come get me

So I got up and followed her to the floor

She said, baby let’s go

When I told her (let’s go) I said

Yeah!

The cry set John’s body alight with an unexpected energy. He stepped right into Sherlock’s personal space and they popped together, their bodies skirting the line of what was appropriate in public. They turned and leaned and undulated in unison, turning up the heat as they did so. Sherlock dropped in front of John with his back to the doctor and rose again thrusting his perfect ass against John’s groin. John moaned out loud. The sound disappeared into the noise of the club and the music, but Sherlock heard. His head was cocked to the side so he could watch John with a saucy smirk as he continued to grind against him. John placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips and pulled him tight. They swayed in tandem as they worked their way across the floor. Sherlock’s back was hot against John’s chest, his hands aflame where they rested on John’s.

God, it was amazing. Caught up in the excitement, John’s mind flew forward to more nights with this man dancing and talking about his cases. So distracted by his own thoughts and simultaneously focused on their movements was John that he did not notice how close they had come to the edge of the dance floor until the crowd surged and pushed them against the wall.

Sherlock had just turned to face John when two rather rambunctious couples collided with the doctor’s back, shoving him into Sherlock. The detective hit the brick wall with a thud and it knocked the breath from his lungs. John was pressed tightly against him, the other couples still right behind his back. Sherlock gasped when John’s hand cupped his face.

“God, that was hard,” John said breathlessly. “Are you okay?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he blew out a quiet breath that drifted over John’s lips. He was so close. His face was almost touching Sherlock’s. His lips were so close. John could tip his head forward mere millimeters and his mouth would be on Sherlock’s soft cupid’s bow. God, it would be life-altering. Lips so soft, so perfect, and they would move with John’s. He knew they would.

John swallowed hard and bit his bottom lip. He slowly moved his hand from Sherlock’s cheek to his shoulder to ease the clenching of his own heart. As if on cue, the couple behind him pushed at his back once again and John lurched into Sherlock. His lips brushed over the detective’s and his eyes fluttered closed, seeing stars. He felt Sherlock’s fingers tighten around his biceps and a soft answering pressure on his lips. A surge of lust and joy rolled over him for just a moment before reality set in again. John’s eyes snapped open in an instant as a touch of panic filled his body from head to toe. Sensing his distress, Sherlock leaned back and allowed John to pull away as far as the space would allow. They locked eyes and stopped. Just stopped.

John felt Sherlock’s hands slide off his arms to his waist and then fall away. He stared in shocked disbelief into Sherlock’s face. He may have shared John’s surprise, but the heat in his eyes had sparked to life again. He panted onto John’s lips. John ventured a quick glance at them and a surge of adrenaline shot through his chest to his stomach and limbs. It was a combination of lust and honest affection. John was almost lightheaded with it. He looked back at Sherlock and his brow furrowed at what he saw. Disappointment shadowed Sherlock’s eyes and creased his forehead. The corners of his mouth angled downward.

“Your boyfriend,” Sherlock rasped, nodding his head toward the bar. His mouth was still so close to John that the sigh he let out drifted over John’s lips and the doctor was loath to look away. What he saw drained that wonderful, tingling, incredible adrenaline rush from his body.

Jim Moriarty was standing at the bar with Moran and talking to Greg. John stepped away from Sherlock as though he had been caught at something and turned to face the bar fully. He watched for a moment as Jim laughed at something Greg said and then once more when Moran added a word or two. It clicked in John’s mind: a decision. His life would be forever changed.

With his focus on what he needed to do, John made his way across the dance floor. His stride was steady and determined as he went and people seemed to just move out of his way like he was parting the Red Sea. John was at Jim’s side in seconds. Moran noticed him first and stepped closer in challenge, but backed up again in a swift movement. There was a look of being caught out passing over Moran’s features for just a second before his expression turned cool and indifferent, but John saw and it heated his temper. John also saw Greg’s smile fading and his eyes flicking out to the dance floor.

“John, you’re here,” Jim said in a pleased tone that would have fooled anyone else, but not John. Jim leaned in for a kiss, but John turned his head and angled away. Jim frowned and then shook it off, resuming his typical swagger. “Greg wasn’t sure he’d seen you.”

John glanced at Greg, who gave him a pointed look. The corner of John’s mouth turned up. He would never reveal his friend’s lie. His eyes slid smoothly back to Jim and his smile tightened.

“Got here when you said we’d meet,” John said sharply. His tone was more harsh than he had planned, but he had truly grown tired of repeating the same scenario over and over.

“Yeah,” Jim put on an apologetic face, “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Are you?” John replied with barely concealed annoyance.

“Steady,” Moran warned, taking a step closer and puffing up his chest.

“Piss off, Moran,” John barked, standing to his full height and entering the man’s personal space. Moran had a good six inches on him, but John did not give a shit. He never liked Moran. Part of John had always wanted to punch the sneer of a smile off his face, but he had avoided the temptation. John might just make an exception tonight.

“John, no,” Jim’s hand was on John’s chest and he pressed in as close to in between them as he could. “It’s fine.”

“It really isn’t,” John scowled, directing his glare to his boyfriend. No, not boyfriend. That was not what he wanted.

John moved away from them and turned to look across the dance floor. Sherlock was gone. John turned his body to face the mass of people fully, a pang of alarm shuddering through his body. His eyes darted around the club, but found nothing. Finally, his focus settled on the door just in time to see a long, swooshing coat topped with a head of gorgeous curls swoop out into the night air. Sherlock must have stashed the coat somewhere before introducing himself to John. John’s heart clenched painful in his chest like a piece of it had been wrenched out. Sherlock had left and John would never see him again if he did not hunt the man down right now.

“You’re right,” John said suddenly, his mouth curving up. He looked back at Jim and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It is fine.”

Jim stared at him inquisitively. He tilted his head curiously and cocked a brow, seemingly about to speak. John cracked a mirthless smile and squeezed Jim’s shoulder.

“It’s been over a long time, yeah,” John said definitively. Jim’s expression changed instantly. He pressed his thin lips together and inhaled deeply, a long centering breath. He glanced down for a moment and gave a slight nod of resignation.

“Yes,” Jim met John’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” John answered, removing his hand from the man’s shoulder. “We’ve already moved on and it’s better this way.”

Jim glanced at Moran as he nodded in agreement. John stared straight ahead, not even seeing them anymore. His own words ringing in his ears. ‘Already moved on’. John had to keep a certain consulting detective from moving on and that meant he needed to get the fuck out of here now.

“Great. See you around,” John muttered, turning his back on them. He set off in an instant, a spring in his step and a grin on his face.

Well, I will call you darlin' and everything will be okay

'Cause I know that I am yours and you are mine

Doesn't matter anyway

In the night, we'll take a walk, it's nothing funny

Just to talk

The words rang out in the air around John and he increased his pace until he was running for the door. He burst through it and stopped in the middle of the pavement, looking right and left almost frantically. He was not there. Sherlock was nowhere to be found. It was dark even with the streetlamps, but the tall man should have been visible. John looked both ways again. There was not a single figure on the abandoned streets. There were plenty of cars passing by though. John’s shoulders began to sag as it became clear that Sherlock must have caught a cab. John chewed on his lip in disappointment and stared out into the street. It was too late. He had missed his chance.

John did not have much time to feel sorry for himself. As he stood there staring at a sizable puddle at the edge of the street, a fast-moving cab splashed through it and sent a wave of dirty water over the front of his body. His eyes flew shut in the onslaught and he gasped out an “Oi” that the buildings around him swallowed whole.

“Fucking hell!” John shouted, looking after the cab. He lifted his arms and shook them slowly as he looked down his own body. He was soaked and filthy. A cab would never take him in this condition. He sighed and muttered angry curses as he touched his dripping shirt. His trousers were just as wet, and cold. Jesus, it was cold. It was going to be a long walk home.

“John?” a silky baritone called from somewhere close.

John’s head snapped up, his wide eyes immediately finding a lone figure standing across the street. The corners of John’s mouth quirked up, his foul mood instantly lifted. The tall man in the swooshy coat was unmistakable. John felt light and his heart soared, even as his throat closed. He could not seem to get a word out, so he just stood there grinning like an idiot. He watched as Sherlock made a few quick deductions and scowled.

“Don’t be an idiot, John,” he shouted, feet set and shoulders squared. “Get over here.”

John glanced up and down the street, letting a car pass and then jogging across the traffic lanes. He splashed through a puddle or two on the way. Droplets sprayed through the air and caught the light of the streetlamps like sparkling diamonds in the night sky. In mere seconds, he stood in front of Sherlock with a grin still on his face as the detective scanned his soaked form with an air of disapproval. John knew he would not ask how it happened, knowing he had deduced it all already.

“You left,” John remarked pleasantly, the joke plain in his voice. Sherlock had none of it, remaining stone faced and cocking a brow.

“You left to be with your boyfriend,” he said petulantly. Sherlock managed to mostly conceal his sneer as he said the last word. John could not stop his quiet chuckle at the man’s jealousy.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” John shrugged as he casually took a step closer. Sherlock’s eyes widened and his brows furrowed in confusion.

“But you…” Sherlock stopped himself, rapid deductions visible on his face. His whole expression changed: eyebrows shooting up with hope, silver eyes gleaming, and his lips beginning to curve upward. “Oh.”

“Oh,” John repeated playfully with a quick raise of his brows. “Is that restaurant still open? I’d love to hear about your cases.”

“Not a chance,” Sherlock gave a single shake of his head and huffed a laugh. “Angelo’s well on his way home by now.”

“Oh,” John’s shoulders sank and his face fell as disappointment filled him. He scolded himself silently for just abandoning Sherlock on the dance floor without a word. My god, he was so stupid. John was certain by now that it looked like he was stalking off in a jealous rage. No doubt watching from afar only confirmed it when John got angry and snapped at Jim. Honestly, what the fuck had John been thinking? He had every intention of kicking Jim to the curb when he started across the dance floor and then with Moran there being all possessive and Jim doing his typical song and dance, John’s anger had gotten the better of him until he finally snapped out of it. ‘Be right back’. That was all he would have needed to clue in Sherlock, but John had just stomped off. Jesus Christ, he was an idiot.

“Angelo would have been hesitant to let you in in that condition anyway,” Sherlock’s words pulled John back from his own thoughts. The detective still had a hint of a smile on his face as his beautiful eyes ran the length of John’s body. “You’ll never get a cab and will catch your death walking for an hour.”

“How do you know it’d take me an hour?” John asked, feeling his mood lighten.

Sherlock just cocked a brow, his expression screaming ‘Come now, John, don’t be dull’. A smile broke over John’s lips and he tucked his chin down with a quiet self-deprecating laugh. When he looked up again, Sherlock’s amusement was easily apparent and he had taken a step closer.

“We’ll go to my flat,” the detective announced with equal measure authority and cheek. “We can wash your things over tea. My clothes won’t fit you, but I have something that will work. Provided I can sneak you past Mrs. Hudson, which I can.”

“What is she? Your school marm?” John snorted.

“My landlady,” Sherlock corrected. “She fancies herself an adoptive mother, but not my housekeeper.”

John laughed again at that and rested his hands on his hips. He looked at Sherlock with fond eyes, dancing inside that he had not bollocksed up the whole thing, and trying not to let his imagination run wild at where this might go.

“And what about Greg?” John teased. “Think he’ll mind having a guest in the flat?”

“Not if it’s you,” Sherlock replied with a glance towards the club. “He might not even know without me to pull him away from this place.”

John laughed and gave a nod at that.

“So,” John began slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face as if he was giving Sherlock’s proposal serious consideration and not bouncing off the walls with excitement, “tea and cases at yours then?”

“That is what I’m suggesting, yes,” Sherlock confirmed, all seriousness and formality as though it was a business transaction. John felt a sudden tingling wave of anticipation envelope his body and he nearly shivered from the unexpected pleasure of it. He tried to keep the smile from being so wide as to give away his every thought, but knew he failed completely. To his delight, Sherlock mirrored his emotions as soon as he saw them on John’s face.

“Oh god, yes. I’d love to,” John blurted, lifting his hands from his hips and holding them out slightly, not sure how to contain the ecstatic energy within his body. John watched as Sherlock did the impossible: His smile grew and warmed into true fondness. John’s heart gave a squeeze as they began to walk down the pavement together, the sound of music fading away as they went.

Put your hand in mine

You know that I want to be with you all the time

You know that I won't stop until I make you mine

“So, what was your latest case?” John asked eagerly, ignoring the chill creeping under his skin.

“I hope you know, John, that this is not going to be one-sided,” Sherlock told him sternly, ignoring the question. “I want to know everything about your cases as well.”

“My cases?” John questioned. He had not expected that. His profession did not seem nearly as interesting as the detective’s.

“Yes, of course,” Sherlock confirmed quickly. “Naturally nothing that would compromise patient confidentiality, but the work and advice of a skilled surgeon would come in very handy. Maybe even at crime scenes, if you’re willing.”

“You can do that?” John stopped walking in shock. Sherlock stopped a pace ahead and turned to look at the doctor.

“Whatever I need to solve a case,” he answered simply.

“They really give you a wide berth, don’t they?” John’s smile snuck back over his lips.

“They do, yes,” the corners of Sherlock’s mouth quirked up.

“So, like a consultant,” John stated experimentally.

“A partner,” Sherlock replied just as tentatively and brushed his fingers delicately over John’s in an unmistakable gesture.

“Yeah,” the word was out of John’s mouth before he could even think. “Yes, please. I’d love it.”

John nearly face palmed. So much for not slamming all of his cards down on the table without even bluffing. Fortunately, Sherlock was not bothered by his enthusiasm in the slightest. He flashed a brilliant smile and gestured ahead. The two men began walking and talking, occasionally brushing hands as they went. By the time Sherlock opened the door to 221B on Baker Street, John knew this would be the relationship to end them all and he would forever be at the side of Sherlock Holmes.

-----

And there you have it. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

I want to thank my wonderful beta, MyBreadAndButter, and wish her well. Hang in there. The year's almost over and I can only believe 2021 will be a damn site better. I also want to thank my fabulous friend, superwholocklmt, for stepping in when I needed to pick yet another brain on this one. You are the Sherlock to my John, without a doubt. Last but not least, I want to thank my my ever so knowledgeable friend, underestimatemethatwillbefun, for two of The Best song ideas. I'd never heard either of them before, but knew they HAD to be in this story once I listened to them. You are awesome.

Dang, I'm not sure what to say because there can't be any questions for the next chapter. Ha! I'm totally out of my element. I'll just throw a little update your way then, shall I? I'm just starting work on another story that I'm hoping to post early next year. It is another 'What comes after season 4' piece. Like in 'Finding John Watson', I'll be changing some of what happened in S4. Just a little something to whet your appetite: Mary is still alive. She and John moved away, possibly to Sussex, before she gave birth to Rosie. They cut off all contact with Sherlock and haven't bee in touch with anyone else either, but now John is moving back to London. Will he run into Sherlock or seek him out? What's that meeting going to be like? Rushing into each other's arms or a fistfight similar to when Sherlock returned from the dead? We shall see....

I hope you all enjoyed your present and can enjoy zooming with relatives for the holidays. I know it's not the same, but it's still one of the most joyous times of the year. I'll be thinking of all of you and sending all the love I can. Thank you for being such great readers and fans. It's always so heartwarming and humbling to read your comments and share your joys. I don't know what I'd do without sometimes.

Happy Holidays from Cakey Jane and, as I sit looking at where Deadpool hangs next to my daughter's unicorn on the Christmas tree, let me say again: Keep your pants dry and your dreams wet, and remember, hugs not drugs.

Love, Jane

#johnlock #Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #john watson #sherlock au #johnlock au #sherlock dancing #john dancing #sherlock's ass

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youngjusticeslut · 4 years

Text

Remember

Fandom: Young Justice Links: FF.net // AO3 Characters: Artemis Crock, Dick Grayson, M’gann M’orzz, Conner Kent, Kaldur’ahm, Wyynnde, Garth, Wally West, mentions of Jade, Lian, Paula, Roy, Shalaina, Barbara, Zatanna and Raquel. Summary: In the six months after Wally's ceasing, the six members of the original team each remember him in their own way. // or, how the team copes with his death. Rating: T Word Count: 4k Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters.

The Watchtower June 23rd, 23:16 EDT

Conner puts himself in charge of Wally’s hologram before anyone else can offer.

He knows that he’s the most logical choice. Kaldur will want to do it, but will get too caught up dealing with the team that he’ll put himself on the backburner. M’gann won’t be able to look at the memorial without crying. Artemis is too much of a wreck. And Dick… Dick is gone.

Sure, someone else could have done it. They could have left it to the League. Or Bart. Bart would have readily taken it on and roped Flash into helping. It wouldn’t have felt right, though. Wally was one of them. The original six. It’s only fair that one of them handles it.

In the three days it takes them to build the hologram, Conner handles the harder things. Memorial arrangements. Consoling the team. Picking up whatever slack he can load on his shoulders. He keeps busy.

Everyone else needs time to grieve. More than he does, at least. Grief is an emotion he can easily control. It nestles inside him, content, easily ignored when more pressing matters come to play. It’s always been this way. When people get hurt, or die, he’s always the one they can count on to keep things going. It’s instinct, by now. And truth be told, it helps him feel a little bit better.

When the hologram is finished, Conner stays behind and stares up at it. None of this is fair. Artemis shouldn’t have to go through this pain. Dick shouldn’t have to live without his best friend. Wally should have continued to live, to be their friend.

But he’s gone now, and someone has to step up. Bart may have filled Wally’s shoes as the new Kid Flash, but being a hero was only a part of his legacy. After Kaldur, Wally always made sure that everyone was taken care of. He’d hang around the Cave and make sure all the new members got acquainted. If anyone needed a place to crash, Wally’s home, and then his and Artemis’, was always a safe haven. He’d organized game nights, movie nights, team outings. With him gone, there’s nobody left to take care of everyone else.

Nobody, except him. For so long, Conner fought the idea of leadership. Everyone’s role on the team was well defined. Kaldur was the leader. Artemis was the spirit. Dick was the brains. M’gann was the power. He was the strength. And Wally was the heart. Conner was comfortable in his role, and he never sought to change it. Things are different, now. It feels like the right time to step up.

Wally was his friend. His first friend. Conner needs to do right by him, to keep his memory alive.

He crouches low, touching the base of the hologram. “You don’t have to worry,” he says, barely speaking above a whisper. “I’ll take care of them for you. I promise.” He’ll make sure that Artemis gets through this. He’ll find Dick and be there for him in any way he needs. He’ll force Kaldur to take breaks and stop overworking himself. And M’gann… he’ll find a way to forgive her and work through their past.

Life’s too short to do anything else.

Happy Harbor July 1st, 13:34 EST

The snickerdoodles don’t taste right.

Wally’s memorial is in two hours, and despite spending the better part of her morning in the kitchen, M’gann has nothing to show for it. She sighs, dumping the fourth batch of cookies into the waste bin. It wouldn’t be right to show up empty handed. Wally would never forgive her.

Ignoring the pang in her chest, M’gann straightens up and rolls up the sleeves of her sweater, resolved to try again.

“Let’s see,” she mutters to herself, pulling up the recipe in her head. “Butter, eggs, flour…” A dash of cinnamon. A sprinkle of salt. The ingredients float towards the dirty mixer, ready for another attempt. Hopefully this time she won’t leave anything out.

The batter comes together easily enough. M’gann has made this recipe enough times that she moves automatically, measuring flour and cracking eggs without so much as a second thought. Keeping her hands busy is good. If she moves, she can’t think. Thinking will only make her cry, and she can’t cry. M’gann doesn’t have that right, especially not today.

Conner, Kaldur, Zatanna, Raquel and her are all in agreement that today, their attention will be on Artemis. Though the former archer puts up a brave front for the sake of the team and keeping things more or less normal, today will be different. Each of them will take turns looking out for her, ensuring that someone is with her at all times. It’s the very least they can do.

As M’gann folds the batter together, her mind turns to Dick. None of them have heard from him since he handed off the team to Kaldur and Barbara. Conner tried visiting his apartment. Artemis texted and called until his phone died. Kaldur persuaded Zatanna to try a locator spell, if only to ensure that their friend was alive. After a few weeks, Artemis informed them that he texted her back.

I’m fine.

Two words. Two words that scream how not-fine he is, but enough to keep them away for a little while longer.

M’gann tastes the batter and crinkles her nose. Something is still missing. She doesn’t have time to mess up another batch, she needs these to come out right. For Wally.

She stares down the batter, pressing her mouth to the side as she thinks. “I put in eggs, the flour, the cream of tartar… what am I missing?” M’gann dips the wooden spoon in the bowl, taking out a piece of soft dough to taste.

Then it hits her. She forgot the sugar.

“Hello, Megan,” M’gann laughs to herself, shaking her head as she grabs the sugar from a nearby cupboard. No wonder the dough doesn’t taste sweet.

“Not as sweet as you, Sugar.”

The bag of sugar drops from her hands and crashes on the floor, spilling everywhere. M’gann takes a shaky breath and grasps the counter until her knuckles go pale, trying to keep the tears from coming to her eyes. She can’t. No. Today’s not her day, she doesn’t get to do this.

Try as she might to regain composure, it’s too late. Every memory, good and bad, resurrect from the back of her mind and start playing without mercy. Wally’s shameless attempts at flirting. All the trays of cookies he’d scarfed down single handedly. The terrible jokes, and the funny ones too.

M’gann slides down until she hits the floor, fighting hard to keep from crying. They’d lost before. Tula. Artemis, even if it was brief. The loss of Wally hits differently. They studied for their exams together. Every recipe she tried, he’d always volunteer to be her taste tester. Good or bad, he’d eat it enthusiastically and ensured that she knew how much she enjoyed it. He was her friend.

Wally always seemed untouchable, like he could survive anything with a smile on his face. Even now, she expects him to just dash into the room and claim that it was all some horrible joke. They’d forgive him, just like they always had before.

Her phone beeps. M’gann sniffles and wipes her eyes before picking it out of her pocket. There’s a text from Kaldur, letting her know that he’ll pick her up in an hour. She sets the phone down and lets out a shaky breath. Maybe five minutes on the floor won’t hurt. She’ll allow herself five minutes, and then she’ll pick herself back up, put on a brave face, and finish baking the cookies.

And she does just that.

Palo Alto August 13th, 15:29 PST

“For the last time, Mom, I don’t need help.” Artemis holds her phone to her ear with her shoulder and tapes up another box. “By the time you’d get here, I’ll be done.”

When the box is taped shut, Artemis pushes it towards the door. This is the last room she has to pack up. One more room, and she’s free. She sets up another empty box and begins to pack up what remains of her closet.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home? I made up your bed for you.”

Artemis nods, clearing her throat just enough so that she can answer. “I’m sure.” She can’t go home. Paula would see through her in an instant. “What, you don’t trust Jade?” she tries to joke, but the tone comes off wrong. Halfhearted.

Retreating to her sister’s new home is barely a step up from retreating to her mother’s. At least there, her friends won’t drop by unannounced. She’ll have something to do. A toddler to distract her from the heaviness that weighs her down. When Jade suggested it, she couldn’t say yes fast enough. At this point, change is welcomed. Anything to get her out of this house.

“I have to finish packing, Mom. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Before Paula can add anything else, Artemis hangs up the phone. She knows what would have come next. Pity. Concern for her wellbeing. While she appreciates the concern and she knows everyone is only trying to look out for her, she doesn’t want to hear it anymore. What she wants is to move on.

Artemis is better than she was two months ago. Wally appeared everywhere to her. She saw him in their kitchen. She heard him, singing in the shower. Brucely would whine by the door for hours, waiting for him. Finally, she gave up and camped out at Zatanna’s, if only to keep from completely shutting down.

A month ago, she officially rejoined the team. Artemis couldn’t sit still and feel sorry for herself anymore. She had to do something. Punch something. Make someone feel even an ounce of the pain that she felt every day that Wally wasn’t with her.

The rage subsided. So did the pain. Artemis knows how to tuck it away for a few hours, bury it deep under team duties, coffee dates with M’gann and Zatanna, and babysitting her niece. She grows numb. Hollow. Anything is better than feeling that pain again.

Artemis makes quick work of her closet and tapes up the remainder of her possessions in the last box. She’s glad that she only has to worry about her things. Wally’s family had helped clear out most of his belongings shortly after the memorial.

She hoists up the box and carries it out to the living room, where a stack of boxes already sits by the door. Half of them will be going to storage. She doesn’t want to impose on her sister and brother-in-law. Not after they volunteered to house her and her dog.

Speaking of her dog, Artemis notices that it’s awfully quiet. She’s used to quiet by now, but with Brucely, it isn’t always a good thing. A small smile ghosts her lips. One time, upon leaving him alone for less than ten minutes, her and Wally had found the dog neck-deep in a massive bag of cereal. They’d stayed up all night, watching their dog upchuck Lucky Charms and vowing to keep a better handle on where they kept their food.

Even though it’s a happy memory, it leaves a bitter taste in Artemis’ mouth. Wally would want her to be happy. He’d want her to remember the good times, and use them to find her strength and move on. Maybe one day, she will. One day, when she isn’t angry, or hurt, or numb.

“Brucely?” she calls out, whistling short-after. No response. That’s never a good sign. “Come on, Boy. We can go on one last walk before we have to go.” Still nothing. He must be up to something, Brucely always comes out running when she so much as mentions the word ‘walk’.

Artemis checks the bathroom. Not there. The kitchen is empty. So is her bedroom. She keeps calling his name, but Brucely remains hidden. Finally, after a solid ten minutes of looking, she finds him inside a closet, lying down pitifully.

“There you are,” she sighs in relief, bending down to pet him. “What’s the matter, don’t you want to go live with Jade?”

The dog stares up at her, reflecting her own feelings in his sad brown eyes. Artemis laughs and sits next to him. “Yeah, me neither. But you’ll like it there. Lian will love you. Roy will probably give you extra treats. And Jade…” she bites her lip. “Jade will get over it.”

Brucely huffs, making himself more comfortable on the floor. Artemis notices that he’s guarding something behind him. “What’cha got there, buddy?” she asks, peering closer to look. Behind Brucely is a box. Seems like she missed something.

Artemis carefully moves her dog and takes the small box into her palms. It’s not one of her boxes. Judging by the torn edges and the crumpled, smush state of it, the box is one of Wally’s. Taking a deep breath, she opens it.

Wally and her talked about marriage. They both knew it was an inevitability, but had decided to wait until after college. Wally wanted a huge party, with everyone on the Team and the League invited. Loud music. A massive cake. The whole five yard. Artemis was never really the type of girl to plan out her wedding, so she went along with his ideas, if only because she liked seeing how excited he got about everything.

Now she wishes they hadn’t waited. She wishes that they’d run away, eloped, made the most of their short amount of time together before it was too late. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe he’d still be alive and here with her.

He isn’t though. And now Artemis sits on the floor, holding a ring that was supposed to be hers. All the stitches keeping her together tear apart at the sight of this one little ring.

Brucely whines and sidles up to her before placing his head in her lap. His drool ruins her pants, but she doesn’t care. Artemis leans forward and hugs him, doing her best not to cry, fighting hard to keep away the thoughts of what might have been.

Poseidonis October 30th, 8:19 UTC-2

Of all the strange holidays Kaldur has experienced on the surface world, none confuses him more than Halloween. He isn’t too much a fan of sweets. And the custom of knocking on strangers’ doors, begging for candy baffles him to no end. His team members tried to explain it to him on several occasions, but clearly the holiday is beyond his understanding.

He prefers to spend the holiday back home, visiting his parents, his old friends. Kaldur always found it a better use of his time than partaking in the festivities; he only had so many opportunities to return home, and this was one he always allowed himself to have.

This year, however, is different. Artemis texted him and asked him to join her and Will for his daughter’s first Halloween. At least, the first one they were both there for. He’d tried to decline, but her and Will both sent him a mass of text messages full of pictures from the pouting toddler, and really, what choice did he have? Kaldur has a difficult time denying Artemis much of anything, these days.

As a result, Kaldur plans his trip home a day earlier. For a brief moment, he considers skipping it entirely. Then he remembers his parents, and decides he’s hurt them enough for one lifetime. So, like the good son he is, he returns home and lets his mother shower him with affection. Cal asks him a plethora of questions about how things have changed on the surface world, and Kaldur dutifully answers every single one. When it comes time to leave, he tries his best not to think too hard about how tight his mother hugs him.

Upon leaving his parents, he ponders visiting Queen Mera, and her son. It has been ages since he’s seen little Artur. Kaldur still remembers holding the baby, only a few days after his birth. Artur must be so much bigger now, and the thought puts a smile on his face.

Just as he’s about to head in that direction, Kaldur stops himself. He probably won’t be welcome there. King Orin and him are on good terms, but that doesn't mean he has forgiven him enough to let him near his family. “No,” he muses to himself, “perhaps not today.”

So instead, he swims in the direction of the Zeta tube, keeping his gaze straight ahead. If he just focuses on reaching his destination, he won’t see the Atlanteans who stare at him, and whisper. He won’t hear the vicious words they mutter under his breath, calling him a traitor, the bastard of Black Manta, and worse. Kaldur doesn’t mind it too much. It’s all deserved. The people have every right to feel this way. He was surprised so many had forgiven him as quickly as they had.

“Kaldur, is that you?”

He stops swimming and turns around. It’s Garth. Next to him is a man he remembers seeing, but doesn’t recognize immediately. “Old friend,” he greets, holding out his hand. Garth hesitates, just for a moment, and then grabs his wrist in the usual greeting. Kaldur does his best not to let it get to him.

“I didn’t expect to see you. Are you heading back?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“That’s too bad,” Garth says, letting go of Kaldur’s wrist. “It would have been nice if you could join us.”

“Us?”

“My apologies, I haven’t introduced my friend. Kaldur, this is Wyynde. He was in our class, back at the Conservatory.”

Kaldur turns his attention to Wyynde. Ah, now he recognizes him. Wyynde, the purist. “You were with Oceanmaster,” he blurts before he realizes. No sooner does he say it does his face flush with embarrassment. “I… what I meant was—”

Wyynde gives Kaldur a wry smile. “And you were with Black Manta. But hopefully, those collaborations will remain in the past. Now I am on King Orin’s guard.”

“I see.” Kaldur clears his throat, attempting and failing to hide his embarrassment. “I apologize if I was rude.”

Wyynde waves away Kaldur’s concerns with a lighthearted chuckle. “Not at all. I appreciate the candor.”

Kaldur’s face is still warm, but he knows well enough that it isn’t from embarrassment. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. Not since… “Well, I must take my leave. I have urgent matters to attend to back on the surface world.”

Helping his friends wrestle a stubborn toddler into a polyester costume and tote her around to collect candy she won't eat. An urgent matter indeed.

Garth rests a hand on Kaldur’s shoulder. “Are you positive you cannot find time to accompany us? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“I do not wish to intrude,” Kaldur makes up quickly. “You and Wyynde must be quite busy.”

“Nonsense! I have heard so many stories about the famed Aqualad. I would be honored if you accompanied us.”

It’s on the tip of Kaldur’s tongue to say no. He should say no. There’s nothing he can gain from getting close to either of them.

“Dude, you can’t be hung up on Tula forever. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Uh, and by that I mean Atlanteans. Not like, actual fish. Please don’t fall in love with an actual fish.”

The memory is so deep, Kaldur almost can’t believe he recalls it. It’s been a little while since he’s thought about his fallen friend. There was so much to do back then, he packed his feelings about the matter and set them aside, to be handled at a later time.

Still, as much as it hurts him to remember, there must be a reason he hears Wally’s voice inside his head. Wally had always been unsympathetic towards his misfortune with Tula. On countless occasions, he’d tried setting him up on a number of unsuccessful blind dates. None of his tactics had worked, but Kaldur appreciated the attempt.

If Wally were here, he’d tell him to go. There can be no other reason why the memory had surfaced. Staying behind, even for a few more hours, would be the very least he could do for him.

“Well…” Kaldur smiles, then nods. “I suppose just a little while will not hurt.”

Watchtower November 11th, 00:01 EDT

Dick sits in front of Wally’s hologram, cross legged. He’d never missed his friend’s birthday before. Grief be damned, he isn't keen on starting now. His heart is heavy. None of his friends even know that he’s here. He hasn't talked to anyone, really talked to anyone, in months.

After Wally ceased, he needed time. Running the team, the team he, Wally and Kaldur had started, didn't feel right. So he left. He came back for the memorial, and to officially hand the team back to Kaldur, but after that, he officially disappeared. He’s done with teams. At least, for the time being.

He never pictured living his life without Wally by his side. Through thick and thin, they’d been there for each other. They’d fought together, and laughed together. It doesn’t feel right to go on living without him.

But life moves on. Dick distracts himself from his feelings by diving headfirst into detective work, letting the late nights and constant travel take away from the unresolved pain. He watches his friends move on with their lives. Kaldur accepts the role of Aquaman, and M’gann is appointed as team leader. Conner still helps with the team, and Artemis enrolls in a Masters program and spends her free time babysitting her niece. Everyone moves on, together.

All except him.

To give them credit, everyone tried to look out for him. Texts. Calls. Surprise visits when they knew he was home. Barbara comes over more often than she needs to, and even though he isn’t always mentally present, he’s grateful. Still, he keeps everyone at a distance. He just prefers to process things on his own. It’s nothing personal.

Wally’s hologram judges him from above. Dick lets out a shaky breath, looking up at his former friend. “I know,” he sighs. “I’m an asshole.”

From his backpack, Dick pulls out an assortment of chips, every ridiculous flavor he could get his hands on. Wally liked trying the different flavors. Somewhere on his computer, he kept a masterlist of every one he’s tried, and their rankings. “You won’t believe which flavors I found this time. Fried chicken flavored potato chips. Can you believe it? They don’t taste bad, but they’d definitely score low on your yum-o-meter,” he tries to tease. His voice comes off thick.

Dick sets the chips down, his hands shaking. “I miss you, Wall. I know I haven’t really shown it. I know I’ve been an awful friend, an awful person… but what did you expect? You and me, we were supposed to go down together.” He balls his fists, looking down.

The hologram doesn’t respond. Doesn’t move. Just stares ahead, with that same, dorky smile.

After a few minutes, Dick stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulders. This isn't helping. He did his diligence, he visited, he kept the tradition. But right now, it hurts too much to be here.

“Happy Birthday, Wally,” he mutters, before leaving the hologram behind for good.

#young justice #yj #dick grayson #artemis crock #wally west #m'gann m'orzz #conner kent #kaldur #wyynde #I know this isn't the greatest but #I don't care #it's been forever since I wrote YJ #deal w it

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jae-daddy · 4 years

Text

Red Rose (2)

Jaebum mafia au

one / three / four

pairing: Jaebum x Reader genre: mafia!au, romance, drama, angst, mature plot: your high school sweetheart, Im Jaebum, is the most feared criminal and you’re his one true love a/n: at this point, this is basically mafia crack - i’ll write another one that is all dangerous this one is wack right now lmao. Also in my opinion guns should never ever be used. i know this treats gun use lightly but it does not show my opinion or my views - gun use should be banned everywhere. i can go on a whole rant but i wont unless y’all want to hear it <3 but i hope y’all will enjoy this not edit

Your palm pressed against his, as you lay your head on his shoulder. His hand wrapped around yours, the other held on your waist, as his cheek fell on your head. You softly swayed with the music playing from the boombox settled on his desk at the corner of his room.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Jaebum moved back, looking into your eyes. You let out a quiet snort at him for being so adorable.

“Sure, I do, Jaebum,” you rolled your eyes.

You had missed your ball in highschool, so here was your boyfriend making up for it in his room. You were in your yellow duck pjs, and Jaebum in a sweatshirt and pjs pants covered with Bart Simpson’s face.

“I mean it,” he kissed your forehead, and as you stared into his eyes you believed him.

Everything was magicial and beautiful. Nothing could compare to this, especially not a high school ball.

“Table number 5,” Randy woke you up from the memory you had lost yourself in.

You instantly moved walking towards the table as you pulled out your notebook and pen from your apron. You froze when you saw the group infront of you, but you pretended to keep your cool.

Jaebum wasn’t here with them, but it was the rest of the boys. They had been coming here a lot after that night.

You don’t think Jaebum had recognised you, he ate the food, left a generous tip and walked out. He didn’t come to the diner again, but the others did.

And they came very often. Atleast, once every two days.

“Hey, welcome back,” you cringed, but ignored it as you carried on. “What can I get y’all today?”

“Oh, howdy partner,” the pretty boy with the juicy lips said, as the others groaned in displeasure. He chuckled happily at the reaction before continuing, “I’ll have the waffles again, with two scoops of icecream and extra sauce.”

“No problem,” you smiled, and took the orders for the rest of the group.

Your heart settled slightly as you placed their food in front of them. Jaebum was not coming again today. That made you feel relieved, but made your gut twist and heart sink all at once.

Even though he didn’t recognise you, it was nice seeing him again. It felt nice to be in his presence once again, even though things were not as they used to be.

Something about Jaebum had dulled down. Something heavy walked with him, step after step, it weighed him down. It darkened the world around him.

Even his group of friends lessened their horsing around when he sat with them.

Something about him had changed and it broke your heart seeing him like that.

In the hour that he was here at the diner a week ago, he hadn’t laughed once. Even when his whole group was laughing and joking, he didn’t participate. Only commenting once or twice. and one rare smile that didn’t shine as bright as before. He wasn’t the Jaebum who held you in his private ball, and danced to old love songs with you.

He was someone else.

But it didn’t matter. You wanted to see him again, be around him once again. Just be in the same room, and breathe the same air as him. You missed him, and even this Jaebum was enough to warm your heart for the smallest moment.

The sky had gotten darker over your shift today. You looked at the old watch on your wrist and saw it was nearly midnight. You walked to the back, and told Randy you’ll finish after checking out table 5.

“Yeah alright, just bring the dishes in too,” he said, lost in the game of numbers as he started at his accounts book.

You nodded, even though he wouldn’t see it, and walked off. You waited twenty minutes, before the group finished.

“Was the food okay?” You asked, as you placed the check on the table.

“It was great,” one of them said pulling out his card.

“My shake wasn’t sweet enough,” the tall one, Yugyeom, said smiling sweetly.

“Yugyeom!” The one holding the card growled at him. And that’s how you knew his name. Every night Yugyeom would say something, and every night the card bearer would scrowl at him.

“You should try the double chocolate next time.” You smiled, as you took the card to the cashier.

The boys left within ten minutes, and twenty minutes later you finally left work.

Your sigh left you as a puff of white smoke, as you put on your gloves and exited from the back door into the alleyway.

Jaebum hadn’t come today, again. You felt your heart sink, but you brushed it off.

There was no point dwelling on something that out of your control. All it did was give you sleepless nights filled with worry and a thousand scenarios of reunion of how you and Jaebum will get back together.

You shook your head, as another image of Jaebum walking into the diner missing you by a second entered your mind. He walks over to the counter, looking down at a shocked Randy.

“Where is she? Where is y/n?” Jaebum askes with agony and hope heavy in his voice. His eyes look around the diner with desperation, then back at Randy.

Randy is taken aback by the tears shining in Jaebum’s eyes, as he tells him; “she just left.”

Jaebum curses under his breath as he rushes out the door, and runs to find you. He sees your shadow further down the road, at the crossing. The lights for the crossing turns green and you start walking.

“Y/n!” Jaebum yells. You turn around, and you freeze. Jaebum remains in his place and the traffic moves around us. His breath racing as he looks at you unable to look away. Finally, he had found you.

You’re standing there shocked; your chest heaving and your cheeks and nose painted rosy.

OMG

And its snowing!

Omg brilliant.

And then a truck comes your way-

“Okay, stop.” You told yourself, sternly. You closed your eyes embarrased by yourself. “What the fuck are you thinking?” “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING FUCKER?” Your eyes widened as you jumped in your place.

“What-” you whispered, holding your hands at your heart. You removed your beanie from over your ear, and stuck your head out to the left to hear better.

“You really think Marco will let you fuckers live after what you did?” You gasped as you couldn’t believe your ears.

“Omg, real gangsters.” You murmured suprised. You had never seen one, only in movies and tv shows. But they still sounded scary as they you thought they would.

Some guys laughed at that comment, and it was silent for a moment.

You wanted to take a peak around the corner and see what was going on, but you knew better.

“I do know better, right?” You bit your lip tempted. You wanted to look, just a small peak. They wouldn’t even notice you were there. You could get real close to the wall and crouch on the floor so- “No, I know better.”

You shook your head and started walking before you did something stupid.

“Yeah?” Someone chuckled making you freeze, you knew that voice. “Well, goodluck telling Marco what happened here today, fucker.”

It was Yugyeom.

You turned on your heels, walking close to the wall. You took a deep breath, and looked over the corner, and your jaw dropped.

There were about five guys on charging towards Yugyeom.

Yugyeom pulls out a gun, shoots two in their legs and is about to shoot another when gun is wacked from his hands as a punch lands on his stomach. The gun lands a few feet away from you.

You cover your mouth to hold in the terrified gasp that was left you. The scene was straight from a movie.

Yugeyom smashed his head into the guy who had punched his stomach making him stumble back. He grabbed another one by their neck, kicking another in his balls and then knocking him out with a kick once he fell on his knees.

He twisted his arm loosening his grip, making the guy with the neck grip turn around. He pulls his back towards him, and wraps his arms around his throat. Yugyeom chokes the guy as he struggles for air, soon sliding down and Yugyeom lets him go.

The guy with the broken nose charges again, but Yugyeom right hooks before jumping and karate kicking his face. He falls to the ground, and in a matter of seconds Yugyeom has defeated five guys who were bigger than him.

You were impressed and terrified all at once. Your whole body was shaking with adrenaline as you took the scene in front of you.

This was the guy who wanted sweeter milkshake, and would laugh and smile so innocently. But this was also the guy, wiping the blood from the corner of his lips, his black shirt tore open from missing buttons revealing his chest.

Yugyeom chuckled cockily turning towards the guy who you thought was the boss because thats it goes. The minions fight and the boss sits back and watches, and then he steps in.

Before Yugyeom could turn to face him; the boss had jumped from the car infront of Yugyeom. He elbowed Yugyeom making him fall to the ground. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Yugyeom’s head.

Yugyeom chuckled, still being a cocky little shit.

The boss slammed the gun onto Yugyeom’s face making you wince as a cut formed on his forehead.

You couldn’t think properly. Yugyeom’s arms fell weakly by his side, as he looked up and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly staring down the barrel of the gun.

Had he given up?

The boss smirked down at Yugyeom.

“Sad that you can’t give this message to your boss yourself,” he sneered at Yugyeom, leaning in closer before standing tall over him. You started moving, your body having no control of your movements.

“But your dead body would do the trick.”

He unlocked the gun, and in a second, you picked up Yugyeom’s gun, unlocked it and shot it in their direction.

The silencer must have come off, because a loud bang made your ears ring. You dropped the gun, covering your ears.

You managed to regain some of your senses and looked towards Yugyeom.

His eyes closed tightly, and he didn’t move. You heart shrivelled in your chest as your blood ran cold.

Your ears rang loudly, as you fell to the floor. You gasped for air but nothing came into your lung.

You stared at Yugyeom, as he remained still; not moving.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t save him.

And then red fell on his face; little splatters and then bigger blobs.

Yugyeom opened one eye, peaking at the sight in front of him.

Both of your eyes widened as your jaws fell wide open. The boss in his black coat fell to the cold damp ground as red seeped out from him.

Yugyeom’s eyes met yours, and they widened even further.

You took in a deep breath, gasping once more. This time the frosty air filled your lungs. It burned your dry throat, and cooled your lungs as you collapsed on to the palms on your hand. Your knees bent, the grainy street digging into your leggings as you closed your eyes.

“Are you okay?” You called out, gulping.

Yugyeom didn’t answer. He stared at you for a moment before opening his mouth. But he couldn’t say anything, before he could another voice boomed from behind you.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”

You turned around only to be blinded by the bright light. You covered your eyes as your eyes adjusted to the light. You could make out four figures against the harsh lights.

“Where is your silencer, Yugyeom? Get up the cops will be here soon.” The same voice said, and this time you could tell who it was.

“We have a bigger problem,” Yugyeom got up and began walking towards you. “It wasn’t me.”

“Really? Who was it then?” The guy who always snapped at Yugyeom snapped once again.

“it was her,” Yugyeom pointed at you, as he stood a few inches away from you.

“The waitress?!” Someone gasped. “The hell?”

You looked up at the boys who surrounded you, and then at the body laying unmoving and blood spilling out from him. You left bile come up, as you turned to the side and vomitted.

You looked up one last time to see Jaebum stare at you in shock, and then darkness fell over you.

#jaebum #mafia #got7 mafia #angst #funny #fluff #mafia au #kpop #fanfic #cute #romance #mature #drama #hope y'all like it #this is like mafia crack lmao #redrose #red rose #jaedaddy

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pricetagofficial · 3 years

Text

Ghost -Part Twenty-One

Warnings: Language, angst, lil bits of fluff, mentions of fear, heartbreak and the like

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1K

Tag list: @kishony-the-geek @unknowntoanyone @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @river-bottom-nightmare @screennamealreadyused @woahjaybird @bikoncon @littleredwing89 @arestorationofbalance

A/N: Not much to say other than big ouch here

Opening her eyes, the first thing Rory noticed was that her throat was dry. So dry that it hurt to even think about talking, and then next came the pain. All over her body, there was this dull aching that went all the way into her bones and made her restless.

Her senses slowly restored themselves as she was greeted with the smell of sanitizer and the sight of a white ceiling above her. There was a taste of something on her tongue, but it was foreign to her. All she could hear was the steady beeping of machines all around her.

The last sense she felt was that something was touching her. Rory looked at her hands and quickly saw that they were strapped to the bed. That was when it all clicked. She was strapped to a hospital bed in a location she didn't know.

Her brain now fully awake, was running a million miles a minute. Where was Tim? Where was Slade? and most importantly, Where was she and how did she get here? The last thing Rory remembered was going through the warehouse before...

If Rory wasn't awake before, she was awake now. The last she had seen of Tim, he was lying dead in her arms before she lost consciousness. She had cried for hours over his dead body, feeling the worst pain she had ever felt emotionally and physically.

Clenching her fists, Rory fought to get out of the restraints but she was strapped in tight. If there was one thing Rory learned, it was how to get out of situations like this.

The last time she had to do this was when she was held captive by the Joker, and it hurt just as much now as it did then. Rory popped her thumb out of place and slid her hand out of the strap holding it down.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she dropped her head as her injured hand unstrapped her other one trying to cause the least amount of pain. Once her second hand was free, Rory gripped her injured thumb tightly and popped it back into place with a cry of pain.

That had to alert whoever was in this building with her to the fact that she was awake. Throwing her feet over the edge, they touched the bare floor sending shivers up her spine. It was freezing, either that or her body was really warm.

Carefully, she walked out of the room and looked up and down the hallway. Rory still had no idea where she was, but she was not going to wait around to find out. Slowly, walking down the hall, she kept an eye out for people sneaking up on her.

Voices were coming from her left, her mind was still fogged up from whatever it was that caused her to pass out. She couldn't make out what they were saying or who it was, but she couldn't risk it.

Diving into the closest room, she shut the door and listened as the two people walked down the hall. They walked right by the door, but even then she couldn't tell who they were.

"Rory?"

Hearing her name, she froze in place and turned to see someone there behind her. Blinking multiple times, Rory still couldn't focus enough to see who was talking to her.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

"D-Don't come any closer to me," she muttered, holding a hand out.

"What are you talking about, it's me." the voice said, as the blurred-out figure came closer.

"I said don't come closer!" she snapped.

The figure stopped, Rory rubbed her eyes multiple times to try and focus to see who was in front of her. She could tell that it was a guy and that he knew her, but she still couldn't put a name or a face to the voice.

"Rory, it's me, Conner," he said softly, walking towards her slowly. "You're in the tower, Bart brought you here after he, Cassie, and Althea went to save you and Tim," he explained.

Hearing his name sent Rory into a panic, in her brief moments of escape Rory had forgotten all about Tim.

"Where is he?" she asked quickly.

Conner stepped closer to her, slowly placing a hand on her shoulder. "He is downstairs in the kitchen, he's okay and you are okay," he said softly.

Rory shook her head quickly. "No, he's dead! I saw the body!" she cried looking up at him. Now that she was more awake, she could see Conner clearly and began to recognize her surroundings.

"Tim's not dead, Rory what are you-"

"No! He's dead!" she screamed. "He's dead! I found his body! I was too late!"

Conner looked at her in shock before trying to get her attention. "Rory listen to me, you weren't too late! Everyone is okay!"

"Stop lying to me!" she screamed and tried to get away from him as Conner wrapped his arms around her to keep her pressed to himself. "Let me go! He's gone! He's gone and it's my fault!"

Conner may have had super strength, but his grip on Rory was faltering. She was wiggling just enough that she was starting to slip through his hold no matter how tight he held her. "Rory stop before you hurt yourself!"

"Can I get some help here?" he called into the hall. Cassie and Bart who had passed by only moments before were there immediately and were both shocked to see Rory in the state she was in with Conner trying to hold her back.

"One of you go get Tim! Now!" he called.

Bart nodded and took off in a blur, leaving Cassie to try and console Rory who was now sobbing in Conner's arms while still fighting to get out of them.

"He's dead!" she sobbed, "Everyone is dead! He killed them because of me!"

Rory fell to her knees as she lost the fight left within her, Conner knelt behind her and held Rory close to him as she sobbed mourning for all those people she saw die.

Within moments, Tim ran in with Bart right behind him and was surprised to see Rory. Without thinking, he dove to his knees and held her face in his hands.

"Rory, Rory I'm right here," he said trying to make her look at him.

The second he spoke, Rory started to calm down as she tried to look at him through the tears. "T-Tim?" she asked softly.

Tim nodded quickly. "I'm right here," he said softly.

Rory blinked back tears as she shook her head. "You were dead, I held your lifeless body."

Taking her hand, Tim pressed it to his chest where his heart was. "Do you feel that? What does that tell you?" he asked softly, watching her start to calm down.

Rory stilled as she felt Tim's heartbeat beneath her hand. Slowly, she felt Conner release her as she moved closer towards Tim. "It felt so real..." she muttered, keeping her hand on his chest.

"Scarecrow toxin can do that to you, and it was mixed with Ivy's as well. We have no idea what it did to you, Slade had a trap set where I was the bait and you walked right into it," he explained slowly, watching Rory relax.

"No one is dead?" she asked. The heartbreak in her tone hurt Tim, she had really believed that he among others were dead. What did this mean for them? He was so convinced that she hated him, but maybe he wasn't so sure anymore.

"No, no one is even hurt," he said softly and watched as Rory leaned her head on his shoulder. "Come on, let's get you back to bed." Tim got to his feet and picked her up. No sooner did he have her in his arms, did Rory pass out. He figured it was from the sudden surge of stress, and she was still fighting off the effects of the toxins.

Ignoring the obvious look Conner was giving him, Tim carried Rory back to the med bay and laid her on the bed. Looking back, someone should have been with her at all times. He should have known that she would get out without them noticing. But there was no telling what she was going to be like until she woke up, and now they had a good guess as to what it was that she saw while infected.

Laying her on the bed, Tim checked her over to make sure her vitals were normal with Cassie helping him. It took a few moments but everything came back normal. For all intents and purposes, Rory was completely fine. But they all knew that she was anything but.

Seeing how she reacted, Tim wasn't sure how he should feel. Rory made it clear that she didn't love him time and time again, but when she thought he was dead she looked so broken. The way she clung to him and sobbed in Conner's arms told him otherwise.

Everything about Rory both confused him and intrigued him. He had officially given up on trying not to love her, with the past they had it was nearly impossible to not fall in love with her every day.

Watching her, Tim saw everything he loved about her from how strong she was to the more intimate moments when she was making the others laugh with a joke she picked up from Jason or Roy. He could feel the way Conner's eyes followed him, being best friends meant that they knew everything about each other and he knew what Rory did to him.

Tim had told Conner everything from the day she broke up with him, to how long he searched for her because he refused to believe that she really didn't love him. But as time passed, the truth began to set it and that sent Tim into a depression unlike anything from before.

He had lost multiple people in his life, his parents, there was a time that Steph, Bruce, and Dick were all thought to be dead and each time Tim spiraled. But there was always someone there to keep him from falling too deep.

When he met Rory again, she became his rock the person he depended on for everything. Tim had learned the hard way that he had to guard his heart, even around those closest to him. But within that year that he was dealing with all of that, Rory was off around the world suffering in her own way.

"We should keep someone here with her at all times, in case she wakes up and starts freaking out again," Bart said.

"I think Tim should be the one she sees first, he was the one she was convinced that was dead. Maybe seeing him first will help solidify that it wasn't a dream." Cassie said looking between Tim and Conner.

"I think he should too, maybe seeing him being present will keep her calm. Whatever it was she saw, it wasn't good. I don't think I have ever seen her cry, not like that." he said softly.

Tim wanted to argue, that anyone else would be better than him but then it would be obvious to everyone what he felt if they hadn't figured it out yet. He wanted to keep them out of this as much as he could, but it was inevitable.

"I'll stay and keep an eye on her, why don't you guys go make sure her room is ready for her when she wakes up and maybe make some broth. She has to be drained and I don't want to make her stomach upset with all the stress and toxin exposure."

The others nodded and one by one they all filed out of the room. Even as a deadly assassin, they still wanted to help Rory. Tim really lucked out with the people he considered his friends. It wasn't long before he was the only one left with Rory as she slept off the last effects from the toxin.

There were several more doses on standby just in case she needed them. Like Slade had said, Rory breathed in the toxin for almost an hour. They had to be careful.

Sitting beside her bed, Tim dropped his head between his knees. What was he going to do? He loved Rory, he loved her more than anything and would take her back in a heartbeat if she asked. But that was his problem, he knew what she did to him and even then he was willing to put himself through all of it again just to love her again.

He knew that she was a good actor, but no one could act that well. Tim believed that at one point, Rory truly did love him. The love they shared was too strong for all of it to be fake, and he couldn't run from his feelings anymore. But it seemed that all Rory did was run from hers, and that included Tim.

Why did she leave him, was she scared? Was she forced? Trying to look through the situation with a clear lens, Rory just suddenly not loving him made no sense. There had to be something he was missing, and it was the key to unlocking the reason why Rory left.

Carefully, he took her hand in his like he had the day before. She was cooler to the touch, her skin no longer so hot it burned. Rory was in a deep sleep, her breathing even as she rested. Tim had wondered if her sleep after they sedated her saved her from the nightmares caused by the toxin, but the possibility was low.

Even before, Rory has always been quiet about what scared her the most. He had always thought that it was Slade that scared her the most, but after that fateful night at Amusement Mile, he doubted it. Something changed in Rory that day, it was a slow change, but a change nonetheless.

Maybe the thing Rory feared the most was her own shortcomings, it's what made the most sense. After Jesse died, Rory pushed herself harder to be better. They all had brushed it off as her not wanting to disappoint them but maybe it was so no one else would die on her watch.

Feeling her hand twitch in his, Tim looked up and saw that Rory was slowly waking up.

Opening her eyes, Rory was met with the sight of Tim's baby blues staring back at her with concern. A look she thought that she would ever get again. What she had seen made her realize just how short life was but Rory wasn't ready for forgiveness from Tim and herself.

She was tired of running, tired of sacrificing her life to save others. Yes, that was the job of a hero, but before she could even be considered a hero again she had a lot to make up for. Rory was done giving up what meant the most to her, and Tim was at the top of that list.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Like absolute shit, what the hell happened?" she asked, her voice hoarse and dry from her screaming.

Hearing her, Tim reached over and got her a glass of water. "How much do you remember?"

Rory took sips as she thought, what did she remember?

"I remember swinging through the window, and that my mask was having problems. I took it off, and after that is where it got fuzzy until..."

"Until what?"

Rory swallowed hard looking away from him. "Until I saw everyone die in front of me, Dinah, Oli, Roy, my parents, Bruce the others... Everyone was dead and it was my fault. Th-Then I saw Jesse, and he looked so horrific, I wanted to scream." she explained.

"You're okay, the toxin is no longer in your system but you might experience lingering effects. By order of Althea and Cassie, you are to be on bed rest until you are back to 100%." Tim said. He wanted so badly to ask about his death that she saw, but Rory didn't mention it for a reason so he wasn't going to pry. She would tell him when she was ready to. If there was anything he learned from her was when Rory wasn't ready to talk, you were not going to get anything out of her.

"Thank you, for everything. This last year, I gave you absolutely no reason to trust me or to want to help me. I could have died without you and I just want to tell you how grateful I am." she said softly, looking at him.

Tim gave her a soft smile. "I should thank you as well, Rory, you took care of the team and went after me." he started. "I haven't been nice to you either, but you risked your life to save me. Not just that, you were ready to face down Slade again after all he did to you, you were going to fight him to get me back in one piece and I can't tell you how much I appreciate that."

Rory opened her mouth to speak but Tim stopped her. "Let me finish please."

She nodded, signaling for him to continue.

"I of all people know how much Slade has taken from you. He is the reason you are who you are today, because of all he has done to you. I just want you to know that whatever this mission of yours is, you aren't alone. The League of Assassins has taken things from me as well, and I'd be damned if they did it again."

Rory sat there quietly and listened to his words. Was Tim telling her that he still cared without actually saying it? So desperately she wanted it to be true, Tim was the only thing that kept her going. Even when they were apart, everything she did was to keep him safe. All Rory hoped was that he would understand it one day.

Letting out a sigh, Rory shifted in the bed before looking at him once more.

"Thank you, Tim."

"Anytime Rory."

#Costly Affairs #Tim Drake #Timothy Drake #tim drake fanfic #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake fic #tim drake x oc #Red Robin #red robin fanfic #red robin fanfiction #red robin fic #red robin x oc #DC comics #The Archer #The Aurora Queen Saga

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littleblackqrow · 3 years

Note

🖤 + PAIRING (from Oob and from Tai)

1) my muse’s initial impression of yours

The initial impression that Qrow got of Bart was that this boy was really fucking weird, especially because he kept following Qrow around, and kept trying to talk to him. Sophomore Qrow was bound and determined he wasnt going to start this year off as rough as last year because he knew what to expect, and had his quiet corner of the library all picked out. No one bothered him other than this kid, and it never quite occurred to Qrow that was because Bart wanted to be friends. Summer had to tell him.

2) my muse’s favorite physical attribute of yours

Bart's hair. Its part feathers, after all, and Qrow has always lowkey been a bird guy. He really likes petting and pulling Bart's hair.

3) my muse’s favorite personality attribute of yours

How inquisitive Bart is. Qrow definitely gets the impulse to devour every scrap of knowledge that you come across, and that is something he admires in Bart

4) a moment that made my muse realize how much they care about yours

Qrow was (and somewhat still is) very ignorant about feelings and about how he connects with people. He often doesnt realize that he's caught even friendship feelings until something happens or someone points it out to him. Summer had to inform him he'd managed to make a friend with Bart because well. He'd never had a friend like that. Especially not one that he didnt make because he was supposed to work with someone on a team.

5) something my muse never found the words to say to yours

Qrow regrets not being capable of being softer or more open with his affections when he was younger. He really does regret that his upbringing had made him so ignorant of what you do in healthy relationships that he sometimes feels like Qrow never quite communicated to Bart how important he was, or got across his feelings. In a way, he really regrets the words never came to him because it could have taken their relationship from friends with benefits to something more romantic. Qrow feels like he blew that chance a long time ago (see below)

6) something my muse wishes they had never said to yours

Everything he ever said during a drunken fight. Qrow's aware that Bart is one of the many people that reduced the time he spent around Qrow to the bare minimum because he couldnt deal with the drinking and the type of person Qrow was when he was deep in his cups for an extended bender. Though he only has vague memories of what he said, Qrow doesnt begrudge Bart for stepping back. He just wishes that he'd never given his best friend a reason to do that in the first place.

7) something your muse does that makes mine feel safe

Bart was one of three or four people who knew the Twins' secret about where they came from. The fact that he never outed them gave Qrow the confidence that Bart was a safe person with whom he could confide in. There arent many people that make that kind of impression on Qrow.

8) something your muse does that makes mine smile

Bart's tapping.

9) something my muse wants to protect yours from

When they were younger, it was bullying because Bart is faunus. The Anti-faunus prejudice used to be a lot worse in Vale, and Qrow (and Raven), having been raised in an egalitarian Tribe where race did not matter, was violently protective of their faunus classmates. Social cohesion is important when it comes to survival in the wilderness and racism towards the faunus has no place, especially when you're relying on that faunus to protect you.

10) ways my muse says ‘i love you’ without saying those words

Qrow brings Bart gifts. Little curiosities or rare books from his travels. Things he knows his friend would be interested in, or fits in his pretty eclectic collection. He also has a respond tap to Bart's because words are hard, but three little taps is much easier.

#headcanon #erudite rebel #oobqrow

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sweet-sammy-kisses · 4 years

Text

You’re the Only Sweet I Want

JayTim Week Prompt: First Love Notes: I’m so sorry this chapter is late, my laptop decided to uninstall Windows 10 on me. The last chapter should be up soon. You can also read it on AO3

Tim might have been in a bit of a panic after he realizes that he had yes he had accepted a date with Jason Todd, the second Robin, his first crush and love.

Conner who keeps track of all of their heartbeats arrived a few moments after Jason had left. Panic in his eyes, “Tim are you alright?” He demanded to know as he checked Tim over to make sure that he was okay.

“I have a date with Jason tonight.”

Conner didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to that, he still didn’t completely trust Jason, not after his attempts at trying to kill Tim but he was currently the only one from the Bat-family that was trying to make amends. ‘I mean where else would Tim had gone? They know he is a member of the Titians. Five years and not one of them think to check here for him?’ Yes, Conner was still bitter at how his best friend had been treated by his family. Conner was one of the few who knew just what Tim had done to save Bruce.

He was also one of the few who knew the true extent of Tim’s feelings for Jason. “Is this something you really want to do? He isn’t forcing you to go on a date with him?” Conner felt his eyes began to heat up.

“Wow, Conner cool it with the heat vision the last thing we need is for you to burn down my shop.” Tim placed a gentle hand on Conner’s arm.

Conner took a deep breath and calmed himself down enough to control his heat vision. “Sorry.”

Tim smiled at his friend, “its okay. And to answer your question no Jason didn’t force me into anything that I didn’t want, I know that you don’t have a reason to trust him but I want to give him a chance. He has changed since he started working with Roy and Kory.”

A knowing look appeared on Conner’s face, “That and the fact that you have had a crush on Jason since your stalker days.”

A faint blush appeared on Tim’s face telling Conner that he was right. A sigh escaped his lips, he wanted to keep Tim safe and that was to tell him not to go on this date but at the same time, he saw Tim’s point Jason had really made it his mission to show he had changed and he seemed to really care about Tim. “I’ll help you find something to wear that will knock Jason’s socks off.”

Relief filled Tim, “Thank you Conner you are the best.”

“I know.” Conner grinned there was no reason to tell Tim that he would have chaperones on the said date.

Tim shook his head, his friend really was cocky.

+*****+

“What’s up Jaybird?” Roy asked his friend when he came into the house that they had rented for their stay.

“I asked Timmy out on a date,” Jason informed them.

Roy and Kory exchanged a look Jason hadn’t hidden the fact that he had a thing for Tim; he had been doing his best to make amends with the former Robin. “Did he say yes?” Kory asked in a soft voice.

A true smile appeared on Jason’s face, “He said yes.”

Kory smiled, “That is wonderful Jason. Now we just have to figure out what you need to wear, you need to knock Tim’s socks off.” Kory began to mentally go through Jason’s clothing.

Roy, recognizing the look on his girlfriend’s face and slapped Jason on his back. “Good luck buddy you are going to need it.”

“Thanks, friend.” Jason drawled out as he watched Roy whistle under his breath as he headed out of the room to check on Lian, leaving Jason at Kory’s mercy.

Kory smiled at Jason, “Come along Jason we have a lot of work ahead of us.”

Jason wondered if he should be insulted or not but didn’t say anything as Kory lead him to his room.

‘Baby bird is worth this.’

+******+

Conner had called in reinforcements in the forms of Raven, Cassie, and Cass. Bart and Gar tagged along because it sounded like fun.

Conner, Bart, and Gar were lounging around the living room where they had been ordered to stay by the girls who dragged Tim off to his bedroom.

“So what is the plan?” Gar asked Conner.

“We are going to follow Tim and Jason on their date.” Conner calmly informed them.

Bart nodded his head in agreement there was no way that they were going to let their friend go alone without someone to keep an eye on them.

“Oh, this is going to be fun. We have to keep our distance!” Bart’s eyes grew wide, “That means disguises!” Bart was vibrating where he was sitting.

Conner rolled his eyes and reached out and snagged Bart by the back of his shirt before he could rush off and find disguises for them to wear. “We will wait until Tim is dressed and then we go get pick out disguises.”

Gar couldn’t help but laugh at the pout that appeared on Bart’s face as he crossed his arms over his chest and sulked. “Just think about it if you wait you can convince Lian to help come up with the costumes.”

Bart cheered up in a heartbeat. “That sounds like fun. They won’t recognize us for sure.” Bart let out a crackle of evil glee.

Conner and Gar exchanged a look and for a moment Conner regretted making such a suggestion to Bart.

“Okay, he’s ready.” Cassie's voice called out as the girls came out of Tim’s room with giant smiles on their faces.

“Come out Tim,” Cass called out.

A long-suffering sigh was her answer but no one dares to argue against Cass. Conner is convinced that even Superman would do what Cass says.

A wolf-whistled filled the air as Gar turned into an actual wolf. “Looking good Tim.”

A faint blush appeared on Tim’s face, “Do you think that Jason will like it?”

“He would be crazy not to,” Conner reassured his friend.

+******+

“Uncle Jay you look so handsome.” Lian informed Jason, “You look like a handsome prince.”

Jason smiled at his niece, “Thank you, Lian. Let’s just hope Timmy thinks so.”

Roy snorted as he smirked at his friend, “Trust me Tim will barely be able to keep his hands off of you.”

Jason returned his best friend’s smirk, “Let’s hope so. Don’t wait up.” Jason called over his shoulder as he left.

The trio waited until Jason was gone before Kory spoke up, “So I take it we shall be following them?” A mischievous smile on her face.

“Yep!” Lian happily informed her. “Bart and I have figured out everyone’s costumes.”

Roy let out a crack, “Oh yeah this is going to be fun.”

+******+

Tim was a nervous wreck as he waited for Jason to arrive, so he had taken to walking around his shop. “Oh, I hope I look okay.”

“You look fine baby bird.”

Tim jumped out of his skin as a husky voice came from behind him. He hadn’t even heard Jason arrive or enter. Turning around Tim found his mouth go dry and he was certain a small whimper escaped his lips.

Jason looked like he had walked right out of one of Tim’s fantasies. The black slacks clung to his things, highlighting them in all of their glory. The crimson red silk shirt did nothing to do to hide the built body underneath it. And the leather jacket only added to it.

“You look so good baby bird. I could eat you right up.” Jason purred. He had known that Tim looked mouth-watering in a suit but now it was taking every bit of self-control Jason had not to say screw dinner and devour Tim right then and there. ‘No, dinner first and prove to Tim that I have changed and then hopefully once I have I can have a taste of Tim.’

Jason knew that it was going to be hard with Tim in expensive black jeans that looked like they had been painted on and the deep blue silk shirt that made his blue eyes stand out all the more. And it didn’t help that Tim’s hair was styled to be in a messy look that Jason wanted to run his hands through and make even messier.

“Come on baby bird time for me to wine and dine you.” Jason held out his hand to Tim.

Tim hadn’t missed the way that Jason looked at him like he wanted to eat him alive smiled at him and slipped his hand into his, “Let’s see what you have got.”

“Oh baby bird I plan on making this a night you will never forget,” Jason promised.

Feeling a little cocky Tim flashed Jason a flirty smile, “We shall see big boy, won’t we.”

Eyes are drawn to that perfect ass Jason couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “I’ll show you who is a big boy.”

+******+

“Can you see them?” Bart asked as he practically climbed over Roy to get a better view.

“Not yet.” Roy countered as he looked around the restaurant he knew Jason was planning on taking Tim.

Cassie let out a groan as she sank lower into her seat wondering if she could disappear under the table.

A hand grasping hers stopped her and she found herself looking into Cass’s face, “It is not fair how you can look so good in that.” Cassie couldn’t believe that Bart and Lian’s big disguise plan was them all wearing baseball caps and fake glasses. ‘At least it is nothing that would really make us stand out. I was certain that Bart was going to have us dress up in something flashy.’ She was pretty sure that Owens had been taking photos of all of them.

“I stay you stay,” Cass told Cassie with a sweet smile on her face.

Cassie was weak when it came to her girlfriend, “Whatever you want sweetheart. I wouldn’t leave you alone with them.”

“Shh, they are here.” Bart was vibrating in his spot.

There was a sudden rush as almost everyone but Kory, Raven, Cassie, and Cass moved to one side of the table to peek through the fake planets and spy on the couple.

+******+

“Oh god, I can’t believe that they did this.” Tim wanted to hang his head as he spotted his friends falling over themselves to spy on them.

Jason was wishing that he had his guns. “I have a feeling that Lian and Bart came up with this plan and since no one can say no to those two they all went along with it.” Jason would be having a talk with his friends of his.

“At least they only went with baseball caps and fake glasses when Cass and Cassie went on their first date Bart convinced us all to dress up as secret agents. This is pretty tame for them.” Tim pointed out, “And it is kinda sweet of them to worry about us.”

Jason had to agree, “Let’s just ignore them and focus on us.” Jason took Tim’s hand in his. “Is that okay baby bird?” A hint of shyness in Jason’s voice.

“It is more than okay.” Tim couldn’t believe that he was on a date with Jason his first crush.

+******+

“This is so boring they are just sitting there talking and staring into each other eyes with goof looks on their faces,” Bart commented about an hour later.

Roy disagreed he was getting great photos of Jason looking like a lovesick fool. “Speak for yourself I am going to be using these babies for my toast at their wedding.”

“Same.” Owens and Conner chimed up as they smiled at their own photos.

+******+

Walking hand in hand Tim could hardly believe that he was walking along the water with Jason Todd. They had managed to lose their friends.

“Did you have a good time baby bird?” Jason had never taken someone on a romantic date, usually, he had one night stands and he had noticed the guys he picked up looked a lot like Tim.

“I had an amazing time,” Tim told him with a soft smile on his face.

“Can I kiss you?” Jason asked softly.

A faint blush appeared on Tim’s face, “I’d like that.”

Cupping Tim’s face in his hands Jason brought their mouths to get in a soft and tender kiss.

Tim felt himself melting at the first feel of Jason’s lips on his.

Jason groaned at the first taste of Tim’s lips and he knew that he would never get tired of this.

+******+

Hidden in the shadows their friends watched as the couple kiss.

“So happy.” Cass smiled at the sight of her brothers finally happy.

“They really are.” Kory had a soft smile on her face, happy that her friend had finally found happiness.

+*****_

Arriving back at Tim’s shop Jason was a gentleman who walked Tim to his door. “See you in the morning baby bird.” Jason couldn’t help but steal another kiss from that mouth he knew he was addicted to.

When he pulled back Jason couldn’t help but smile at the dreamy look on Tim’s face.

“I’ll take that as yes. Until then baby bird.” Jason winked as he walked away.

Tim couldn’t stop himself from watching Jason walk away; he couldn’t believe that he had been on a dare with his first love it was everything he had hoped for and more.

#jaytimweek #jaytimweek2020 #jaytim #otp: be my robin #sherri writes #my ficlets

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

Soul Shards part 4

I have nothing to say for myself. Don’t kill me? I tried to edit this, but it’s longer than what I’m used to, so I probably fucked up somewhere along the way.

This... will probably need another part. Or should I leave it like this? I dunno.

Enjoy!

~~~.~~~.~~~

Timothy’s eyes shone hatefully. It was the most beautiful shade of icy blue he had ever seen. Even if the emotion was such a dark one, they weren’t empty anymore.

-It’ll be over soon -he shushed, slowly sinking to his knees and bringing the man into his lap, almost engulfing him between arms and firm chest, as if to protect him from the pain that was coming from deep inside; distantly, he heard Kon and Jon’s voices as they approached, their concern obvious but unimportant at the moment-, you just have… a lot of emotional catching up to do.

~~~.~~~.~~~

16 - 21

The young man raised his eyes from the documents he was revising, merely glancing over Damian’s case files.

-Zsasz -was all he said, before going back to his own thing.

Damian a year ago might have gotten mad, thinking Timothy was sprouting spur of the moment lies to get him to stop nagging him. He knew better now, that the man didn’t need more than a second of looking at his carefully collected evidence to make a verdict.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, though.

-How? -was all he asked, giving the file a closer look, trying and failing to see what the other could- He was at Arkham at the time of the crimes, there’s witnesses and video evidence.

Timothy didn’t seem to be paying attention to him any longer, answering by rote but not taking his empty eyes from his own work.

-Not Zsasz himself, but not a copycat either. This is the work of a lover, or someone romantically interested in the bastard. Could be a courting gift, a mean to attract his attention, or both. Look deeply into any woman…

-Or man, or both, or neither -he felt compelled to add. Timothy shrugged, but his soul gave an approving humm.

-... or man, or both, or neither -the detective conceded, dropping his papers in favor of his coffee cup and tablet-, visiting him this last few months, or that could have benefited from any of Zsasz murders; maybe he unknowingly saved someone by killing their abuser or something like that, and they fell for him. Think Misa Amane from Death Note.

As he did any time Drake dropped a reference, Damian made a mental note to check this out. At least, “Death note” sounded more his style than the time he had to watch both Mean Girls movies.

-How do you know it’s a love interest and not, say, an apprentice?

Without dropping his cup, and balancing the tablet against his legs where he was sitting on the couch, Timothy raised his other hand and pushed one of Damian’s papers across the coffee table towards him. One of the autopsy’s photos.

-The cuts. Zsasz usually makes them all across the body, picking certain places that would make his victims bleed to death as slowly and painfully as he feels like. These, instead, are focused on the chest area, almost circling the person’s heart. In this one, a victim that was murdered specifically on Valentine's day, the cuts are even closer to it, almost framing the heart.

-...I can see it -he muttered, eyes widening. After two weeks of useless tumbling around this case, it was only when he caved and went to Timothy for help that he finally had some possible lead on it. And, as every time he did this before, a few minutes was all he needed to figure it out and to point him in the right direction.

-I’d hurry, if I were you. The least thing Gotham needs is a new villian power couple, a “Harley and Joker” take two. It was just too good when she left him for Ivy, so don’t allow anyone else to take their places as the criminal lovers of the city.

Damian nodded and went back to his files on Zsasz, energies and will renewed. Timothy ignored him once again in favor of his own things, and silence enveloped them. He didn’t mind; the icy blue soul’s warm encouragement was all he needed.

----.----

-It has grown -commented the older of the two, watching from the corner of his eye the souls on Damian’s lap. They had to fight some sea monsters at the beach, and sand had gotten into his pouch, so he stopped at the earliest chance to clean it up.

It was the first time Timothy saw his soul in years. Damian had being careful to not take it out around him, scared it might spook the man into leaving.

If anything, he seemed curious.

-It has? -he asked, dropping his own back on its hiding place and rising the other to eye level- It still fits in my palm the same way it always did.

Timothy rolled his eyes.

-Yeah, and your hand is the exact size it was when you were twelve? Brat, you are already taller than me -wipe that smile off your face, we both knew this day would come. You grew, and if it still fits the same, it’s only logical that it did as well. You probably didn’t notice because you see it all the time, and since your soul has also grown, there’s no sure way for you to compare them and realize it.

Amazed, and more than a little happy, Damian examined it closer. He was right, of course; now that it was brought to his attention, he couldn’t unsee it.

-A soul grows and thrives on multiple things -kept going the other, shaking his head to get as much sand as possible off his hair-, both positive or negative.

Damian knew this, has seen the sheer size of the Joker’s rotten soul, doubled after his latest killing spree: it fed on the pain of his victims. It was a disgusting sight, but one that proved just how different the psychopaths they fought saw life, and how unlikely it was they’d ever stop.

-And in this case? -he asked, refraining himself from saying ‘your’ instead of ‘this’.

A shrug- If I had to guess, love, like most people’s. It was what always healed me, time and time again, growing up; love for my friends, parents, family, people I liked… It started to shrunk when half the people I cared for died, and the other half didn’t seem to want my feelings nor return them. Poor, past-me’s soul was starved to death. You seem to have it well fed, tough.

It was said tonelessly, but Damian felt two sizes taller all the same. The soul at hand seemed to shine in front of his eyes (although it was probably just the sun’s reflection), and a quick succession of images flashed across his eyes.

Kon El, Bart Allen, Cassie Sandsmark and a few other heroes he recognized from Drake’s old Young Justice photos, going out of their way to seek him out and keep him company in his self imposed soulless exile.

Grayson, Father and Todd sitting quietly at the Cave’s Red Robin memorial (with cracked glass; The Red Hood hadn’t reacted well the first time he saw it), sharing stories of the man as they knew him: brother, son, childhood friend.

Cain and Brown, sitting back to back, holding the other’s soul shard; Brown delightedly absorbing the love Timothy had put in Cain’s icy blue compass, and the other carefully caressing the almost black locket, cocooning it in her hands, as if trying to breath emotions back into the almost empty thing.

Himself, tirelessly looking for information on the man years ago, following him around more recently. Taking hits for him during the times they worked together, doing his best to keep Grandfather away, sneakily replacing his coffee for decaf.

(taking care of his body)

Holding the precious icy blue orb in his palms, cradling it against his chest when sleeping or fondling with it between his fingers when troubled or distracted. Constant, tender touch. Never damaging it. Never leaving it alone. Never ignoring the feelings it sent his way.

(taking care of his soul)

Timothy looks indifferent, typing away at his new phone (he changed them almost every day, no doubt to keep Oracle or Father from finding him), but his soul reacts beautifully to Damian’s thoughts.

Fed by love, indeed.

-----.----

17 - 22

After he saved some children and comforted them during patrol, when he had (briefly) the upper hand against Cain in a spar, when he successfully talked Todd down from blowing up a building, when he stood firm against father in order to protect Jon, Colin and the rest of his friends from a scolding, when he tried (and failed) to help Alfred bake Grayson a cake for his birthday… each time, he would feel a tug from the not-so-little-anymore orb, and when he took it out of his pouch to inspect it, he’d always see a new, beautiful green and gold spot slowly dying the area surrounding the core.

Little specks of his colours, appearing here and there at times that seemed random to him, but evidently were appreciated by Drake’s soul.

It scared him so badly he could barely sleep without nightmares. Because, even if it meant tentatively good things (he was leaving a mark on Timothy where not even Todd had reached, was securing himself a way into his heart), it also meant a change.

What if, after all his efforts, this made impossible for Drake's soul to fit into his body after all?

After the soulless man had pointed it out for him, he begun to notice things. Not only the suddenly appearing, breathtaking looking spots on the icy blue sea of his soul, but how it seemed to shine more with each passing moment, how the feelings it gave off were more intense (it had come as a surprise; he would never had guessed they were muted before, until he was almost blown away by the soul’s rage after an encounter with Deathstroke left Nightwing at death’s doors), how the small little bumps and dents in it were filled out as the soul grew, healthier and prettier.

It had grown so full of feelings, so strong, he feared. What if, even if he got Timothy to take it back, his body couldn't accept it due to its changes? Or what if the accumulated feelings were too much for him to take, to process? He certainly had some emotional baggage to catch up to, and he had little to no information on soulless people accepting their core back to properly predict what outcome they might face.

He was scared by the changes. He was excited about his colours slowly taking space into Timothy’s soul. He couldn’t rest properly anymore.

The soul was a faithful companion on his long, sleepless nights. It spoke to him, in a language of feelings and abstract-like images he had come to learn with the years. It returned his love and care tenfold, in a way he knew only Drake, with his seemingly unending flow of emotions, could do.

A part of him (Wayne, hero, martyr) didn’t believe himself deserving of it. None on his family, with maybe Cain and Pennyworth as the exceptions, were worth the unconditional trust and loyalty Timothy bestowed upon them.

The part that was purely Al Ghul (proud, selfish, greedy) asked for moremoremore, and only himhimhim.

That didn’t help his insomnia.

Neither did Timothy’s warm comfort.

The feelings, on both ends, only grew.

-------.-------

When he finally gathered courage and went to the source, Timothy himself, to show him the changes on the orb, the man only hummed, undeterred in his task of cleaning the kitchennet of this small place he was using for the week. They were somewhere in Singapore, and Damian could see the sea from the living room window.

-It’s such a shame, really -he spoke, as his hands worked steadily and with the ease of familiarity on making both coffee and Damian’s favorite tea. Never let it be said he didn’t know how to host. Another muscle memory skill, no doubt.

-What is it?

-You fell victim to Robin’s Third Law. I thought you might have been excepted from it, but obviously not. So sad. If I had an Alexa, I’d have her play sad violin tunes.

Ignoring the last bit, he took his eyes from where he was comparing the blue and green souls (his and Drake’s), and glanced in his direction.

-Third Law?

He never heard of it before. He would remember if Father or Grayson told him about it.

-Hmm -he nodded, brining a tray with the beverages and cookies to the low table, taking his seat in front of Damian, back to the window (whether this was trust in him to watch out for him in case they were attacked, or he simply didn’t care, he didn’t know)-. It’s a theory I developed while Stephanie was Robin, and you only confirmed it for me. First Law: Each Robin shall have his or her Batgirl. Dick and Jason had Barbara, me and Steph (though very briefly on her case) had Cass, and you currently have Steph. Second Law: Each Robin will have either a Super, a Speedster, or both, as his or her friend and teammate. Dick had Wally, Jason Bizzarro, I had both Kon and Bart, Steph teamed up with Kara for a while there, and you have Jon.

Blinking rapidly, he nodded. It- it was too much of a coincidence. Timothy’s claims, as always, had their merit, no matter how far fetched it seemed to have three unescapable facts following the wearer of the Robin mantle.

-And the Third Law?

-Each Robin will fall in love with their predecessor, without a happy ending.

That stopped him cold, tea cup halfway to his mouth.

He knew?

It must have shown on his face, because the man rolled his eyes.

-Just because I don’t have feelings of my own any longer doesn’t mean I can’t recognize them on someone else. I told you, the soul that belonged to me -he nods in the direction of Damian’s lap, where he had placed the soul while they eat- thrived in love. It’s almost the size it was back then, when I was young, idealistic and stupid.

A sip of coffee. Timothy’s soul reached out tentatively, it’s metaphorical touch brushing Damian’s own, a wave of lamenting and corresponding. He didn’t want to focus on what it meant.

-Dick loved the boy he was, the little Robin his parents raised, that flew on the trapeze without a care on the world. That kid died the night his parents fell. Jason most likely had a crush on Dick back when he was Robin, though the way he was treated by him back then killed that tentative love. I know, because I studied him for years, until I learned everything there was to learn about my predecessor and friend.

Damian listened, but half his mind was on the unrelenting wave of feelings Timothy’s soul was sending his. There was a message there, but he was way too overwhelmed to understand it.

-Myself, well, since you have that thing -he pointed to Damian’s lap, then shrugged-, you must know about my hopeless, tortuous love for the bastard. You know, even though past me trained himself with a flight or fight response to him, it still took me some battle time to go for the fight one? My body couldn’t seem to settle into the idea of hurting him -he sighed, shaking his head- Stupid little brat.

-Th-then… What about… Brown did have you. Her... her love didn’t have a tragedy following.

TImothy merely raised an eyebrow.

-Even before she faked her death, I was kind of an asshole with her, always demanding she hang up the cape. Then, when she came back, I was so pissed and betrayed, I couldn’t even look in her direction as much as I couldn’t take my eyes away; from what I remember, it was hell. I’m pretty sure a part of her will always love past me, just like him would always love her a bit, but they’re never getting back to what they were. There’s just too much polluted water under the bridge.

-Her shard is almost completely black and empty -he muttered, eyes dragged against his will to the Icy blue (and green and gold, now) soul.

Timothy laded his head- Doesn’t surprise me. Kon, Bart and Cassie all have theirs in almost perfect shape, though some spots here and there are losing their colours. They were absolutely freaked out when it started to happen, came straight to me to yell about friendship, bonds and shit like that. I’m guessing both Cass and Alfred’s pieces are the same -at Damian’s reluctant nod, he smirked- about time, too.

Damian didn’t comment on it, because he was well aware of how much Drake wished for all his soul shards to go completely null. When that happened, his soul would have definitely died, no take backs.

There was also the matter of the soul core, in Damian’s possession, that kept on thriving and growing, but Drake didn’t seem too worried about it, which scared Damian in turn.

-And, lastly, young current Robin. In love -he smirked-, ah, no, corresponded love, judging by the green spots, with his predecessor. Tough luck. The soul might have feelings for you, but the body certainly doesn’t (muscle memory from back then is a bitch, isn’t it?), and those by themselves are not enough, are they? Such a tragedy.

He smirked while talking, empty eyes not really caring about Damian’s crushed heart.

He hated him, a little, just then. Not nearly as much as he loved him, sadly.

-------.-------

Watching him through the monitors of the cave was such a normal thing for him to do, it no longer called to the attention of his family members. They just accepted it as one more of Damian’s oddities and moved on.

Sometimes, Grayson or Todd would stop by. They would comment on some sparring mistake he made, or marvel at the mission report when Drake’s explanation on the thought process that drove him to solve it was beyond amazing, longing and pain lacing their words.

Cain and Brown rarely accompanied him, but when they did, it was their choice on what to watch, and more often than not it was some funny, endearing thing, like Drake’s comm quips, or mask recordings on the cheesy puns he threw to his enemies.

Father never stayed, once Damian took a seat by the Batcomputer. It was beyond frustrating, his decision to pretend his son was dead, from the memorial to avoiding all talk of him unless forced. Timothy was out there, and Damian held in his pouch the answer to his predicament, but no, Father would sooner think him dead than deal with the emotional rollercoaster Damian was currently riding.

Timothy defied death itself when everyone else thought Father dead. He went toe to toe with a devil like his Grandfather, and came out on top, for him. It angered him, not seeing such devotion returned. Todd’s death and later criminal career had undoubtedly messed with his emotional bonds with all his children, but this was just ridiculous. They fought over it, often. They fought a lot, these days; his older siblings said it was a rite of passage, to reach that moment when Robin was just done with Batman’s shit.

-Master Damian, you never showed up for supper. I took the liberty of bringing some leftovers for you to snack on here.

Lost as he was, both in thought and in footage of Timothy reaching a compromise with Poison Ivy, he had to repress a startled jump; it would be unbecoming of him, with all his training. Though, Pennyworth probably knew anyway. He always did.

-Thank you -he nodded, accepting the plate stacked with sandwiches. The old butler left a cool glass of water by the computer’s keyboard, and his eyes went up to the image of Timothy returning home after another successful mission. His tired eyes seemed to soften.

-How is Master Timothy fearing, young sir?

As sure as he was that everyone suspected him, only Alfred directly addressed the fact that Damian went to his old charge, time and time again. Even so, when he asked for “Master Timothy”, he always referred to the same.

Wordlessly, one hand holding a sandwich, he retrieved the soul next to his from the pouch. The spots weren’t bigger than last time, but more numerous.

One finger softly caressed the orb. He wouldn’t feel it, but Damian could, and it always warmed him the way Timothy’s soul reacted to the old butler’s touch.

-To think I let a young man under my care to go starved... -muttered the man. He hadn’t taken well when Damian confied on him the reason why the blue orb used to be so little.

-It was a shared mistake, Pennyworth. If anything -he nodded towards the man’s bowtie, where the small icy blue shard still shone- it’s evident how you -and Cain- were far from the worst perpetrators. The fault lies on the rest of us.

The man sighed- It’s such a shame, truly. Master Timothy was such a bright, full of life young man… his heart might have been naive, but it rarely steered him wrong.

While he spoke, the man went around Damian, reaching for the keyboard. A few clicks later, and a video file he never saw before was brought forth. Timothy’s young face appeared on the screen, and Damian paused, softly putting his glass back down.

On screen, his predecessor, down to his old Robin pants and no shirt, was finishing a training routine on the mats.This one, he didn’t recognize.

-I searched every bit of information on Drake, how…?

As he asked, another figure appeared on screen, this time… an odd version of Nightwing. He started needling Timothy (the file lacked audio), seemingly asking for something the other kid wasn’t willing to provide. He kept shaking his head.

-I have every bit of photographic evidence of Master Richard’s… most questionable clothing choices password protected, least he finds a way to get rid of all of it. It’s for posterity’s sake, you understand? And to maybe help refrain him from trying his hand at “improvising a new suit” ever again.

Looking at his mentor’s mullet hair and deep v-neck, he can’t exactly bedrugde Alfred his counter measures. He’s feeling shame just by looking at a video, can’t even imagine what living through that must have been for the poor butler.

-Grayson’s fashion sense is sadly lacking, isn’t it?

-I wouldn’t call that fashion, Master Damian, nor sense. One could forgive and forget the first Robin suit, a circus child in need of colour and reminders of home. But this? -a stiff nod to the screen- This makes me worry for any children he might have.

-I’ve been keeping him away from orphanages -he assures the old man, because at this point, it was a two on two battle, him and Pennyworth against Father and Grayson and their inability to keep their greedy paternal paws off of possible new family members.

-Good lad.

In silence, they watch as Nightwing goes off screen, returning later in civies. One would think anything would have been less of an eye sore, but the bright green pants, red sneakers and yellow shirt aren’t so much better than glitter and feathers in a skintight suit.

Shockingly, though, Timothy-on-screen seems to disagree. Graysons’ renewed efforts at convincing him of whatever he wanted bore fruits, and soon enough, both vigilantes left the scene. Automatically, the video started to reproduce again, on a loop.

Alfred hummed, taking back the empty tray- I would highly recommend you went upstairs to try and sleep, young Master. Your eyebags are two thirds the size Master Tim’s used to be, and that’s worrying on its own.

He wanted to protest, but the look on the old man’s face made him reconsider. There was very little any of them could do to repay Alfred for everything he did for the family. Easing his concern was just a start.

Silently, he closed the files he was revising and walked side by side with the butler.

-I wonder what was what Grayson said, to make Timothy concede -he commented, while they slowly hailed back to the Manor.

-Nothing of great importance -was his answer-. Master Timothy’s will is a force to reckon, but he always found Robin to be his Achilles’ heel. The moment Master Dick changed into civies the colour of his first suit, poor lad had lost the battle.

The words kept spinning in his head, even after he went to bed.

It wasn’t a plan, not even the beginnings of one, and it lacked all the finesse and detail attention one of Timothy’s would have, but it was more than he had yesterday.

A start.

------.------

He went to Kent with his idea. Conner. Kon El.

(Not Superboy. Not his Superboy, at least; just like he wasn’t his Robin)

He choose him, because he could fly them somewhere away from his Grandfather's ears. Because he was better at lying than the Impulse, and less noble and forthcoming than Wonder Girl. He trusted him more than he did Timothy’s other Young Justice old teammates.

But, more importantly, he knew Kent would be ready and willing to do whatever it took to get Drake back.

-You know it’s gonna hurt him -the clone pointed out, face serious and stony. He was already preparing himself mentally for the backslash of what they were going to do. His hand had raised up to the Icy blue earring. Out of everyone else, Cain and Pennyworth included, his soul shard was the brightest; his love and loyalty to Timothy never once wavered.

The soul in his pouch gave a warm wave of fondness. He suspects that, during Drake’s darkest hours, his best friend’s love was what kept the little orb fed. Even now, he felt it strengthen under Kent’s undying devotion.

-I know.

There was no question it would. If they succeeded, the onslaught of feelings would be far too much for anyone to handle. Timothy, awesome as he was in every other field, would not be the exception.

-He’s probably gonna hate me.

-No -he shakes his head, echoing on Timothy’s soul sentiments- He never could. You and the others… he’s weak to you. That’s why I’m asking for your help. I need you there first, to soften him up to the idea. Make him more… receptive.

A pause. Then:

-It’s me he’s going to hate.

-At first, for sure- the easy admission, from the mouth of someone as well (or better) versed in the mysteries and wonders of one Timothy Drake, hurt; then, the man continued- but I can promise you, it won’t stay in the way of your little love story for long. He will cave soon enough.

Startled, he looked into the meta’s eyes; mischief, but a shade of seriousness. He wasn’t lying.

-There is no love story. Only redemption for me, and a chance at happiness for him.

-Yeah, yeah, I know, you bats are all for ‘what’s right’ and ‘emotions and personal life are for the weak’. I’m just calling it like I see it, dude, and anyone can see how you look when you talk about him. And, honestly? It’s a little creepy, Edward Cullen style, the way you spent your entire teenagedhood pining after someone without actually interacting with him for almost half of it.

Multiple reactions raced through his mind. Embarrassment, denial, rage…

...resignation.

-I’m not worthy of his affections, not after everything. And even if I was, who’s to say the feelings his soul has now will be the same once it’s back with its rightful owner?

Kon El just sighed, something that sounded like ‘emotionally stunted bats’, and carefully placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. It was striking, realizing they were not so far in height now. He would never bulk up the way Superman’s clone had, but his body was closer to it than Timothy’s, or Grayson’s.

-I’ll let you in a secret. There’s one easy shortcut, straight to Tim’s heart. Though, maybe ‘straight’ isn’t the right word in this case.

-Shut up.

A smile- Trust me on this one. You’re already using that way, even if you don’t realize it -he clasped his hand tighter, and then released him- Well, gotta go. Showtime is in two days, right? Have to be ready.

He was already taking off, when Damian’s brain to mouth filter seemed to break and he blurted out.

-What is this shortcut?

Still flying, the meta spin in place to face him, moving backwards. His smile was one part wistful, two parts sad.

-The fastest way for Tim to love you? Love him back. He’s a sucker for people giving him the barest scraps of affection, it would be impossible for him to resist someone wholeheartedly loving him.

-----.-----

18 - 23

All fell into place on Damian’s birthday.

The morning, he couldn’t escape his family. Grayson cried, of course, and Father had his constipated-emotionally confused face on. Todd and Brown promised to take him to a bar, careful to make that claim where Pennyworth couldn’t hear them. Him and Cain were in charge of the cake (Cassandra’s latest focus of attention had been bakery, and she wanted to participate), and Damian spent half the day surrounded by their love and support.

As promised, Jon came by mid afternoon to take him to ‘celebrate together’. He asked his family to wait for him awake, even if he came past the time patrol usually started. An odd request, but since he had asked for so little for his birthday, they couldn’t help but agree, Barbara going so far as to have The Birds of Prey ready to cover for them.

It was a long flight to Uruguay, but it was needed. He had taken note on how Drake was, more often than not, found on some seaside location. According to Grayson (and the multiple mission reports he had read on the subject), the tiniest Robin always seemed to like and take comfort on the beach. It had become a small compulsion, probably one he wasn’t even aware of, to stray to places surrounded by water.

The only stop they made, was for Damian to change civies for his suit. The Robin suit.

They found him sitting on the sand overlooking the calm afternoon waters, at La Pedrera Beach. Just where Damian asked him to met, where Kon had undoubtedly brought him a few minutes before.

No one was around, thankfully. The less witnesses, the better.

Jon touched ground softly, smiling at Damian and taking off again, to wait with the older Superboy as planned. His friend’s eyes betrayed no nervousness, but he didn’t need to; Damian was nervous enough for both of them.

Steeling himself, he walked towards the smaller man and stood by his side. Silently, they both watched as the sun slowly sunk into the horizon. In ten more minutes, it’d be completely hidden. Damian wanted for everything to be done before then, as if the beauty of the sunset would counter the pain of what was to follow.

-Okay, Baby Bat, lay it on me. Why ask me to come here, all the way from Italy? I was having a blast, you know, catching those mafias one by one.

Even as he spoke, he didn’t look particularly bothered. Soulless as he was, he had no qualms on showing his displeasure. Right now, though, he looked as satisfied as he ever did since losing his soul. The morning catching criminals, noon with his best friend and afternoon at the beach seemed to have worked like a charm. He was at ease, no longer waiting for Damian to attack him, and when he looked up at him and saw him wearing his colors (for once his more muted pants having a green tint to it, resembling more his predecessor's old costume), surprise gave quick way to trust.

Alfred was right, as always. Robin seemed to be the key past Timothy’s defenses.

-It’s my birthday today -he informed the man, doing his best to not be so stiff- And I want my gift.

A sharp laugh, devoid of feeling but humorous all the same, and Timothy stood, face to face with him, tilting his head to look him into the eye.

-My, my, what a spoiled prince. But whatever, I’m here already, and I already indulged you these last two years, letting you stay around and helping you with cases. What’s one more? I won’t take the soul back, though.

Damian shook his head.

-I don’t intend to return something of yours. I want to give something mine, for you to carry with yourself.

The smirk on his face turned utterly devious, and Timothy’s pale hands found perch on his shoulders.

-Such a daring man you have turned into -slowly, he leaned closer, standing on his tiptoes to reach Damian’s ear- What do you want to give me, baby bat? -his warm breath caressed his face, and he had to shut his eyes tightly when he felt Timothy’s face getting even closer- Maybe a kiss? It’ll be free of charge, even, just because I’m in such a good mood. I’ll still let you have the gift you had in mind, too.

Startled, he held the other man’s hips. The want that pushed viciously against his restrain left him dizzy, but his heart twisted and the pain brought him back to his senses, just before his lips -that he hadn’t even be aware he was parting- touched the other’s.

Carefully, because he didn’t mean any harm and because of how hard it was, he pushed the man away.

-No.

-No? Despite how desperately you clearly want it?

He clenched his fists, before slowly opening his hands and dragging them away from Timothy’s body. He opened his eyes again, looking down at the beautiful face, at those empty eyes. That sealed his decision.

-Not like this. Never like this.

He both regreted and was relieved by his words the moment he had uttered them.

A huff, and slim arms crossed over his chest. It helped a little, once the temptation was over.

-Okay then, boring. What’s this gift you want? Wanna give me a necklace or something? You seem the possessive type.

Damian breathed in, deeply. This was the moment.

-Open your hand, please.

Eyes rolling over the drama, one hand on his hip, he stretched out the other one, palm up.

Bracing himself, Damian retrieved something from his pouch. Before he could second guess himself, he softly placed it on Timothy’s hand.

Deep, rich green. Shinning gold. A sea of those colors, with specks of icy blue floating around.

His own soul.

Timothy’s eyes went to the soul, the one that wasn’t his, and widened a little. Reflexively, he closed his fingers around the orb as much as he could. He was still being moved by the muscle memory, the compulsion of pleasing Robin.

A second later, tears started to endlessly flow, and he was screaming in pain.

-----.----

For months, years, Damian had looked over him and saw two separate pieces of the same puzzle. Soul and body, beautiful on their own, but absolutely breathtaking if he only could put them together.

Now, the full picture stood in front of him. Despite its beauty, there were visible cracks where Damian had forced their ragged ends together, where he had to put his own soul as a filler between them.

Effective as it was, meshing two pieces, despite they belonging to the same puzzle, wasn’t the most gentle way to mend them.

They were bound to break a little, in order to fit.

-What have you done to me?! -demanded Timothy, hand clutching desperately at his chest (the other one still holding the gifted soul core), knees failing him. He would have crashed into the ground, if not for Damian’s firm arm around his waist.

He looked completely miserable, scared and shocked, which sent waves of both guilt and elation through him, because his Beloved was hurting because of him, but he was feeling.

Timothy’s eyes shone hatefully. It was the most beautiful shade of icy blue he had ever seen. Even if the emotion was such a dark one, they weren’t empty anymore.

-What is happening to me?! How?! This isn’t my soul! I shouldn’t be feeling my own emotions! -he shrieked, his entire body shaking, and it was obvious he would have attacked Damian if not so focused on his own pain. Tears fell seemingly without his notice, and flickers of different emotions crossed his face. Guilt, anger, joy, sadness, rage, fondness, pain, guilt, anger, joy… Too quick to properly categorize, too sudden for Timothy to process them. Those were the emotions his soul had been storing this past few years, and it was all crashing down around him.

-I’m well connected to the soul you gave me. As thus, by using my own as a conduit and bonding us together, yours finally has a way to reach out to you, to do its job and make you feel. It’s muted, not as strong as it’d be if you had accepted your own soul back in the first place. I’m afraid that would have killed you.

-I feel like I’m dying now.

There was screaming. Then laughter. Panic and crying. Puking. Timothy’s hand left his chest to tug at his hair, plucking off strand, then going to his naked arms and leaving red indents with his nails. Softly, he took his fingers between his, Timothy’s back to his chest, if only to keep him from hurting himself any longer.

-I can’t breath. I can’t think. Why did you do this to me? I love you. No, I don’t. Fuck, I’m going crazy -Daman tightened his arms around the man, shushing him, rocking back and forth on the ground, wishing desperately he could sooth his pain.

-It’ll pass.

Timothy whined, and cried, and smiled, and puked on the sand.

-I hate you right now. I love you. I’m scared. I hate you again. I/

-I know, love. I know.

When he passed out, still caught between tears and smiles, Damian couldn’t help but feel relief.

#My writing #soul shards #soul shards au #Tim Drake #Damian wayne #damitim #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain Wayne #kon el kent #Conner kent #Jon kent #ra's al ghul mentioned #young justice is mentioned

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