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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

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Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

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#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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lailyn · 2 years

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All In My Head

Febuwhump Day 11: Chronic Pain

Doctor Loki Odinson was having a really, really bad day.

Nothing had gone specifically wrong at work, apart from some difficulty intubating a patient down at the emergency room. The ER was always swamped at this hour and at this time of the year, and could the intensivists deign to come down from their throne and help out? Well, since they asked so nicely…

The days between Christmas and the New Year were always weird, and people did weird shit. Holiday mishaps, pranks gone wrong, over-eating, over-drinking, to name a few.

But car accidents were the worst, regardless of the season. Loki was not squeamish; he would not be in this profession if he were, but the case he'd consulted on had facial trauma so severe he almost could not tell the nasal and oral passages apart. By the time Loki was done securing an airway, his head was spinning, his stomach a raging sea of acid.

He spent the entire elevator ride up to the surgical floor kissing his forehead to the wall, willing the cold steel to take the growing headache away.

He did not realise he had reached his destination until he heard a familiar voice call out to him through the gaping doors, "Odinson," - and Loki groaned silently and forced his eyes open.

Yeah, not a hallucination.

Loki shook his head. Now's not a good time.

Already scrubbed and gowned, Stephen's eyebrows furrowed in confusion behind his mask, but there appeared to be a more pressing issue, for he then quickly wagged a finger between them, back and forth. "You and me. OT 3."

This time Loki did moan out loud; he had forgotten he was on standby for emergency OT. He had only volunteered because Stephen was on back-to-back calls the whole week and Loki did not feel like being alone back at the apartment all by himself. Stupid Loki.

So much for a quick lie-down, he thought darkly as he trailed his sort-of boyfriend down the corridor.

Stupid, needy Loki.

_________________________

It was the same patient, the poor woman from the car crash, who now had a gaping maw instead of a face. Upon seeing it, the bile rose in Loki's throat so quickly he almost choked and gave himself away.

"You alright?" Stephen peered at him through narrowed eyes. "You look pale."

"No surprise there. Haven't seen the sun in weeks," Loki mumbled, pulling his surgical mask over his nose to hide his face. He then pretended to be very busy, rummaging noisily through the drug trolley. "Intra-ab?"

Stephen casually sat on the empty stool next to him, and Loki froze -

If the surgeon noticed how uncomfortable Loki was, he did not show it, his sombre grey eyes fixed on the legion of nurses preparing and draping their patient for surgery. "Looks like. The CT scan doesn't look good, but we'll see."

"I'm sure you'll manage."

Stephen frowned. "You sure you're alright? You sound weird."

"Do I?” Loki said mildly. “Might have something to do with how close you're sitting next to me."

Stephen shrugged. "Where else do I sit? Half the hospital's here."

Loki looked around, finally taking in his surroundings, and Stephen was not wrong. The operating theatre was packed with people. Loki recognised the urologist, the orthopaedic surgeon, OBGYN -

"Great. All the heroes are here. You're running quite the show, Doctor."

"Everyone wants to save something. She's only thirty years old."

Loki hummed noncommittally.

"And a mother of three."

"I know, Strange. I tubed her."

Stephen raised an impressed eyebrow. "Then you're the biggest hero here. You saved her first."

Loki sniffed. "Very funny."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," Stephen said mildly. After a beat, "There's a protein bar in my locker."

"What?"

"I have a feeling this is going to be a long one," Stephen warned. "You can't leave your stomach empty. I know you've been taking your pills, but - "

"Stop," Loki said quietly. "I know what you're doing, and I need you to stop."

Stephen uncrossed his arms and raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. He looked as though he wanted to say more, but luck was on Loki's side for once.

"We're ready for you, Doctor Strange," a scrub nurse called.

"We'll talk about this later," was all Stephen said before Loki found himself sitting next to an empty chair once again.

The loss was profound, but the void did nothing to ease the poundings in his head.

You can do this, Loki told himself. This is just another day at work.

Loki stole a furtive look at Stephen's ramrod-straight posture. Even from the back, his... friend commanded presence wherever he went.

You're going to get through this, even if it kills you.

_______________________

A gruelling three hours later, Stephen and his team put the final stitch in. Despite the preliminary evidence of extensive intra-abdominal injury, the patient was very lucky to have gotten away with a ruptured bladder, lacerated spleen, torn small bowel and sheared mesentery, all reparable and repaired.

With a beaming smile, Stephen turned toward where the anaesthetic team were seated behind him, fully expecting to see Loki give him a thumbs-up, only for his heart to sink like a stone. Loki was nowhere to be seen.

“Is this going to be a thing now?” Doctor MacDowell asked dryly. “Cinderella going off into the night once the magic’s gone?”

Stephen gave the replacement anaesthetist a long, level look. He was beginning to dislike the woman, her friendship with Loki notwithstanding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said tightly, reserving his comebacks for later use.

“Hmm…” MacDowell pried the blinds open with two fingers and peered outside the window at something Stephen could not see. “His car’s still here, so I don’t think he’s clocked out.”

The doctor then turned to give him the biggest, cheeriest smile. “Oh, well. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

Stephen could not tear his gloves off fast enough, before stalking out of the theatre without so much as a word.

She called out to Stephen’s retreating back. “If you find him, tell him he owes me two now!”

________________________

Stephen finally tracked Loki down to one of the registrars’ on-call rooms, lying down in pitch darkness, completely motionless.

An odd sense of déjà vu hit Stephen like a train, and he found himself rushing to his lover's side.

"I'm not dying, Stephen," Loki mumbled. "It's just a migraine."

Stephen studied the bag of intravenous fluid Loki was attached to. He peered behind the pole, where he saw more empty packets discarded on the floor. One, two. "Have you been vomiting?"

Loki gave an equivocal wave of the hand. "It's more to offset the postural hypotension from the chlorpromazine, but to answer the question, no. Close, though."

"Best to stay off your feet for a while, then." Maintaining a casual tone was more difficult when the worry was real. How bad must the migraine be, for Loki to have to take a second-line drug to ease the pain?

He sat down very carefully on the foot of the bed. "Is it helping?"

Loki shrugged. Meh . "Too early to tell."

"Maybe it's not a migraine at all.”

“Here we go,” Loki muttered to himself.

“How bad is the pain? You sure it’s only on one side? We need to rule out subarachnoid haemorrhage. You never know, a young guy like you, it could be an aneurysm.”

“Stephen…” Loki moaned.

But Stephen was too far gone in his soliloquy to listen, “I’d give it another hour. You’re still lucid so that’s good, but I think we should order an MRI, I know the radiologist on-call, I pseudo-dated her once, I could call in a favour - ”

Loki lifted a foot and gave Stephen’s crotch a blind, strong kick.

“Ow!” Stephen howled, as he doubled over in pain, “What the fuck, Loki?”

“This is why I don’t talk. You don’t fucking listen,” Loki hissed.

“Not too long ago your ‘just a heartburn’ turned out to be a freaking ulcer, so excuse me if I’m being a bit cautious, I believe I’ve earned it!” Stephen hissed back.

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Loki said, voice dripping with acid. “What else have you been doing? Besides checking my pills to see if I’ve taken them? Would you like to check the insides of my mouth too?”

“Like your dick hasn’t seen mine.”

Loki’s blood ran cold. “Get out.”

“This again.” Stephen barked a laugh. “You know what? I don’t fucking care anymore.”

He catapulted himself out of bed without thinking, and this time, it was Loki who howled in sheer agony from the jarring motion.

"Oh shit - " Stephen grabbed the trash can just in time and stuck it under Loki's head.

Loki clenched the sides of his head as he retched piteously, bringing up half-digested pills and granola and what sounded like every organ in his body.

Stephen felt like the biggest heel in the world. "Shit. I am so sorry, Loki."

"Not as sorry as I," Loki growled, eyes red-rimmed and furious. "Your dollar store protein bar's disgusting."

Stephen's defensive 'Hey' got drowned out by another round of empty retching.

"Do you want me to get somebody? MacDowell's covering for you, isn't she?" Stephen asked.

"I'm fine," Loki gasped. "This will go away soon enough."

"So it is a migraine?" Stephen asked doubtfully.

"Of course it is, Strange. I'm not a moron."

Stephen winced. "Well, yeah, but you've never had one this bad."

"You've never seen me have one this bad," Loki corrected. "And this isn't the worst."

They remained in the position for some time, Loki curled in a foetal position and Stephen crouched on the linoleum floor next to him.

Stephen cupped the back of Loki's head and began thumbing the visible knots at the blue-veined temple.

“When you’re not here, I miss you,” Loki confessed. “But when you are here, I wish you weren’t.”

Stephen took a moment to process Loki’s hurtful, but not entirely misplaced words. “All the time?”

“Sometimes. Like now,” Loki said, shifting uncomfortably. “You’re so fucking loud, you make my head split.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

"Don't stop," Loki murmured.

Stephen obliged, resuming the scalp massage as gently as he could. He would not want to make the headache worse. "What do you think triggered it?"

"I haven't been sleeping very well," Loki admitted. "My neighbours. They've been...loud."

"What did the management say?"

Loki frowned, not following.

"You're telling me you didn't complain?"

Loki shrugged. "Nothing much you can do when you have a fussy newborn, is there?"

"Oh, the pregnant lady next door had the baby! Finally!" Stephen said awkwardly. "I forgot about that."

"Yeah…" Loki said slowly. "You haven't been over in a while."

"I've been a bit busy," Stephen said apologetically. "Neurosurgery's kicking my ass."

"No humblebragging, Doctor," Loki murmured. "It's unattractive."

"You think I have a shot at it?"

Loki snorted. "You'd better. You're an appalling general surgeon."

"Excuse me?"

"You were cauterising so much the theatre smelled like a steakhouse." Loki pinched the bridge of his nose at the scent memory. It had been the last straw, the final nail in the coffin. If he had stayed any longer, he would have drowned in his own sick.

"Not my fault the patient was a bleeder."

"Everybody bleeds, Strange," Loki sighed, snuggling deeper into the crook between Stephen's chin and chest. "Gotta look for the leak to plug it."

Stephen thumbed the crow's feet of pain at the corner of Loki's eye thoughtfully. "You're coming home with me."

"No, I'm not."

"I can come in the morning through Yorkhill Parade and park my car in the east wing. You can take the freeway and park where the new blocks are, it's closest to the ICU anyway. No one will know."

Loki peered at him through half-lidded eyes. What Stephen could see of them was dull and filled with pain. "You are actually asking me to move in with you?"

Stephen had to word this very, very carefully. "No, I am asking you to try and get a good night's sleep once in a while."

"You're one to talk. You've been studying your ass off while still working full-time."

"All the more reason why you should move in," Stephen said, his rakish grin making his handsome face appear boyish and earnest. "So you can try and make me sleep."

"Is that a dare, Doctor Strange?"

"An invitation," Stephen murmured, "Should you choose to accept."

"I would kiss you but my mouth tastes of vomit and unidentifiable, highly-processed protein material."

Stephen shrugged. "As far as security bonds go, it's not the worst."

Loki pursed his lips, "You asked for it."

And thus, they sealed yet another deal with a kiss; artificially-sweetened as it may be, it was one of the more memorable ones in the long, long list of kisses to come.

#strangefrost #febuwhumpday11 #febuwhump2022 #fic #froststrange #loki #doctor strange #sick loki #all in my head

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—————————————————

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

1K notes · View notes

writer1 · 3 years

Text

Growing up a wolf

The Request: Tech for werewolf au? please my heart is broke after this episode and I need this

A\N: This was requested by @persaloodles, I really hope you like it!

Warnings: transformation, mentions of child abuse, body hate, self hate.

Hunter paces around the room, as his brother sits and watches. The two of them had heard that they'll be getting a new Cadet in their barracks, a CT-9903. Hunter and Wrecker have been curious about him, wondering if he’s like them, and defective.

“What do you think he’s going to be like, Hunter?” Wrecker asks, making Hunter turn to him and shrug. “I’m not sure?” Wrecker nervously plays with his hands, picking at his fingernails. “Why do we need another one? We’re fine alone not that I’m not that I’m not excited to meet him, but… what if he doesn’t like us, or me? Hunter sighs softly, walking over and sitting beside his younger brother.

“He’s probably like us, enhanced. We need to give him a warm welcome, alright? And I know he’ll love you” Wrecker smiles and nods, but then he frowns. “You think they hurt him too?” He asks quietly, making Hunter give his own frown. “I wish I could say no, but they probably did.”

Wrecker growls. “That’s not right!! They have no right to hurt us!!” Hunter frowns. “They own us, Wrecker. They can do whatever they want with us.” Suddenly the door slides open, making them jump. They see Nala Se walking in, holding the hand of a smaller Cadet. He has goggles and looks to be just a bit younger than Wrecker. He’s pretty small, but not too much smaller than Hunter.

“Cadet’s, this is CT-9903. He will be your team member from now on.” With that she leaves, leaving the three Cadet’s alone. The new Cadet looks around nervously, making Hunter smile comfortingly as he walks forward. “Hello? What’s your name, I’m Hunter?” He whimpers, and then Hunter hears the door lock. He feels nervous, but then he hears the new Cadet groan, and Wrecker scream-- “Hunter!!!?”

Hunter turns to see the Cadet kneeling on the floor, growing bigger as his clothes rip. Brown fur covers his body as his goggles snap off. Hunter screams, running and grabbing Wrecker, hiding them under one of the bunks. They both hear whimpers and groans, then silence.

They don’t look, but they hear heartbreaking cries, then the sound of the door unlocking and footsteps. Hunter doesn’t look up until they leave, seeing the room empty except for the ripped clothes, datapad and goggles on the floor. He walks over and picks up the goggles and datapad, remembering the cries.

“Do you think the longnecks did that to him?” Wrecker asks quietly, and Hunter nods. “Yeah, and I think we hurt his feelings when we yelled. I don’t think he’s dangerous.” Hunter has a frown on his face, feeling horrible. He clutches the goggles in his hand, hoping the Kaminoans bring the Cadet back so they can properly meet.

xxx

Wrecker and Hunter are both cuddled up to each other, as they lay in Hunter’s bunk. Suddenly the door opens, and they all hear sniffles. Hunter looks up to see the young Cadet walking in, he’s human again and obviously in pain. Hunter immediately jumps up and runs over to him, making the Cadet flinch. “Hey, are you okay?” Hunter asks gently, coming over to him, and looking at the Cadet.

“Hey, we’re sorry for being afraid. You are our brother, and we both want to be close to you, 03.” The Cadet looks up at Hunter, squinting a bit. It makes Hunter chuckle, running over to his bed, he grabs the goggles and runs back.

“Here, let me.” He gently places them on the Cadets face, tying them on. The Cadet then looks up at Hunter. “You aren’t scared of me?” Hunter smiles sadly. “We were at first, but then we realized that you didn’t try to hurt us, not at all.” 03 get’s tears in his eyes, then slams himself into Hunter.

“No one’s ever not been afraid of me before… I’m a monster.” Hunter frowns, hugging him tightly against him. Wrecker comes over as well, hugging 03 and Hunter close. “You aren’t a monster, you’re one of us.” Wrecker reassures him, and Hunter nods. “That’s why your number is CT-9903. Mine is CT-9901 and Wrecker’s is CT-9902. You belong here 03, I promise you this.”

03’s eyes fill with tears, as he nuzzles into his two brothers. “Now I was looking at your datapad, it’s not like a regular datapad?” Hunter asks, making 03 smile widely. “Yeah! I love playing around with technology and fixing things, upgrading things and everything. It helps calm me down when I… when I transform into that.” 03 looks away, but Hunter pulls him into another hug.

“It’s alright. That is part of who you are, and we aren’t afraid of you anymore. Next time you transform, we’ll have a cuddle pile, okay?” 03 nods, smiling and nuzzling into Hunter, then he slams into Wrecker in a hug. Suddenly Wrecker’s eyes lighten up, and he pulls Hunter away from 03.

Hunter and Wrecker whisper to each other, looking at 03 every few seconds. He raises an eyebrow, getting nervous until—”Tech!” 03 freezes when Wrecker calls him that, making him raise an eyebrow. “What?” Hunter chuckles and walks over. “Tech, that’s what your name should be, if you like it of course.” 03, no, Tech tears up.

He slams into Hunter and Wrecker, pulling the two close to him. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” He thanks them over and over again, making the two laugh. “Of course, what are older brother’s for?” Wrecker reassures him, and Tech knows that he’s on the right place with these two. His brothers.

xxx

Tech curls up in his bunk, whimpering and whining as he tugs at the fur on his chest. He had transformed during a training simulation. This was the first time he’d transformed in front of Hunter and Wrecker since the first time two weeks ago, and he couldn’t bear to see them scared of him so he ran.

His ears then flick when he hears the door open, making him whimper. He knows that it’s Hunter and Wrecker, he can smell it. Tech presses his ears back, curling up even more, staring at the wall. But then he feels a hand on his back, making him startle. “Shh, it’s alright, Tech. It’s just me.” Hunter’s voice makes Tech’s eyes widen, and he turns over.

“Hunter?” Hunter nods, crawling into the bunk and cuddling up to Tech. “We owe you a cuddle pile.” Tech can’t believe it, he had thought Hunter was just being nice when he said that. Wrecker then runs over and joins in on the other side of Tech, nuzzling into him.

“You’re so fluffy, Techy!!” Wrecker coos, hugging Tech close. It makes Tech tear up, but he turns over and licks the top of Wrecker’s head. Hunter then starts running a hand through his fur, making Tech hum. “No more hiding from us, alright?” Hunter asks gently, and Tech nods, nuzzling into his brother. “Yeah, you are our Vod’ika now. We don’t care what you look like, alright?” Wrecker adds, and Tech nods again, snuggling both his brothers close.

“Thanks, guys!” Tech licks and nuzzles both their heads, making both Wrecker and Hunter chuckle. “No thanks necessary, Vod’ika.” Hunter kisses Tech’s forehead, as both him and Wrecker cuddle into him again, making sure Tech feels cared for and loved.

xxx

Tech sits in his bunk with Wrecker and Hunter, he’s transformed at the moment. They are getting another Cadet today, their last brother. Hunter thought that if he was in his werewolf, it might be better for the Cadet to get used to him, and Tech agrees wholeheartedly. He knows how scary the transformation looks, so it’s easier if their brother meets him already transformed.

Tech’s ears flick and he smiles. “They’re here.” Hunter nods in agreement, also able to hear them because of his enhanced senses. Only a few seconds later, the door opens and Nala Se walks in, a small, skinny Cadet standing close to her. He’s so skinny, and has grey hair. Tech can see his eyes moving about the room, they of course land on him and immediately widen. “This is your new barracks and squad, CT-9904.”

She leaves, and the Cadet stares at all of them, but especially Tech. Hunter hops out of the bunk, walking over to the Cadet. “Hello, it’s very nice to meet you.” The Cadet looks nervously at Hunter. “I… I’m not feeling well.” He whispers, making Hunter smile sadly. “Nala Se told us that you’re sicker than most Cadets, that’s alright. We’ll take good care of you.” With that, Hunter scoops the Cadet into his arms, holding him close.

The Cadet looks around nervously as Hunter carries him over to the bunk. “This is Wrecker, and the fluffball over here is Tech.” The Cadet looks nervously at Tech. “Will he eat me?” He asks quietly, making Wrecker burst out laughing. “Of course he won’t eat you!! Haha!! He’s your third Ori’Vod now, one of us.” The Cadet’s eyes widen, making Tech give a tiny smile. “I’m Tech, it’s very nice to meet you, 04.”

Hunter looks down at 04. “Tech here is super soft, he is very nice to nap on. Would you like to try it?” He asks softly, already seeing 04’s eyes droop. He looks at Tech, and Tech gives 04 a soft look. “You can lay with me, I can tell you’re tired.” 04 bites his lip, but nods. Hunter smiles and gently hands him to Tech, who snuggles the younger Cadet close.

“We also saw some training holo’s of you, you’re a great shot!!” Wrecker muses, making 04 smile as he snuggles into Tech’s fur. “Yeah, I have the greatest eyesight. That’s my mutation, what’s your’s?” Hunter, Tech and Wrecker all smile. “Mine is that I am stronger than most, which is why I’m so much bigger!!” He says excitedly, making 04 chuckle. “Mine is enhanced senses.” Hunter smiles, and then 04 looks up when Tech nuzzles him with his snout.

“Surprisingly, mine is having a much higher learning rate and intelligence than most.” 04 smiles and nuzzles him back, but then he frowns and looks away. “My defect is that I’m sicker and smaller than most clones, and my grey hair. What’s yours? Or am I the only one defective?”

Hunter shakes his head. “You aren’t. My enhanced senses give me the worst migraines, and I get oversensitive a lot.” 04 nods, then he looks to Wrecker. “I got really bad growing pains when they made me bigger and stronger, I still get them all the time when I have growth spurts, that happens a lot.”

04 nods, then he looks up at Tech, who smiles sadly. “Mine is my eyesight, which is why I wear goggles. I also get bad migraines from all the information in my head.” 04 nods, but then he bites his lip nervously. “What about you being… fluffy?” Tech chuckles softly, as Hunter and Wrecker get sad looks again.

“I was given a serum when I was a tubie, it turned me into this. So whenever I get super emotional, mad, sad or even just super happy, I transform.” 04 nods, then he snuggles into Tech. “I like the fur, it’s nice.” Tech chuckles as Wrecker and Hunter laugh. “We think the same!!” Hunter laughs, then Wrecker’s eyes light up.

“Oooh, Oooh!! We also have a name for you!! One that we found when we were watching your training holo’s.” 04’s eyes light up, making Hunter smile. “We all came up with it. Your name is… Crosshair, but if you don’t like it, we can come up with a different one.”

04 shakes his head. “No, I love it!” He cuddles into Tech, making him smile and lick the top of Crosshair’s head. “Good, cause you are never going to be a number again, that’s just horrible.” Hunter reassures him, as he joins into the snuggle, and Wrecker jumps in too.

“Yeah, numbers suck!!” Wrecker exclaims, snuggling into Tech. the wolf chuckles and Wraps his long arms around his brothers, sandwiching Crosshair in the middle as he lays them all down. Crosshair hums, nuzzling into Tech’s chest. “Thanks, Ori’Vode.” He whispers, before his eyes flutter closed, and he drifts off to sleep. Tech smiles, as he watches his to other brothers do the same, then let’s himself succumb to sleep, believing that their little family is complete.

xxx

Omega whimpers, tail tucked between her legs as she lays in her room on the marauder, how had today gone so wrong. It had finally happened… she had transformed in front of her brothers. She didn’t mean too, it was Crosshair’s first mission back with them, and she got too excited. Omega didn't mean to transform, but the looks of fear on her brother’s face’s made her even more scared, so she ran.

Tears fall down her face, as she let’s out tiny, heartbreaking sobs. Omega can’t stop crying as she hugs Lula close to her, this is the saddest she’d been since the fall of Kamino, and at least then they all got Crosshair back, and took his chip out.

“Omega?” Hunter’s voice echoes through the Marauder, making Omega let out an involuntary whine. Her ears flick as she hears footsteps towards her bunk, and she can tell that it’s not just Hunter, all of her brothers are here. “Omega, it’s alright.” That’s Wrecker, and Omega wants to answer him, but she keeps quiet.

She hears whispering, then someone walks right up to the sheet separating her little room from the rest of the marauder. “Omega, I know that… I know that it’s scary, transforming in front of people by mistake.” Tech’s voice fills her ears, and her eyes open, tears falling faster. “Yeah.” She whimpers out ever so quietly. “You think that we were scared of you.” It’s said as a fact, and Omega whimpers again. “Yeah.”

There's a little chuckle. “We would never be afraid of you. I… I’m a werewolf too, Omega.” Omega’s eyes widen, as more tears spill out. “You are?” She asks quietly, and she can hear her brothers whispering a bit. “Yes, I am. You can ask anyone.” Omega sniffles, sitting up a bit. “I’m not the only one?” She asks quietly again, and Tech chuckles. “No, you aren’t.”

“Yeah!!! And don’t worry, we all love werewolves here!!” Wrecker yells excitedly, making Omega chuckle a bit. She then hears whispering again, before-- “How about I transform? Then we could all have a cuddle pile?” Tech offers, making Omega’s tears slow just a bit.

“Yes, please.” Omega hears some whispers once again, and then she hears the clang of armor on the floor. Her ears flick when she hears a few groans of discomfort from Tech, then the familiar sound of cracking bones.

She whimpers a bit and covers her ears tightly, trying to block out the sounds. But it’s no use, and she uncovers them after a few seconds of silence. “Omega? Can I come in?” The voice is deeper, but Omega would recognize her brother’s voice anywhere. “Yes.” She whispers, and suddenly a wolf’s head pops through, making her sniffle. She knows it’s Tech just by the goggles.

Tech smiles at her, gently running a clawed hand over her head. “Can I pull you out of here? Then we can all have a nice cuddle pile?” Omega nods, crawling over to Tech and wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulls her out, holding her tightly against his chest as he sits on the ground. “I’m not alone.” She whispers, making everyone get sad looks, especially Tech. “No, you are not alone. And you’ll never be alone again.” Tech promises her, hating that none of them had known she was a werewolf. It had made so much sense, why she hid in her room at certain times, why she was always so nervous to get too excited, it all made sense now.

“We’re all here for you, Omega. We know what it’s like to have a werewolf sibling, we'll protect you.” Hunter gives her his own promise, kneeling down and pressing his own kiss to her head. Omega watches Echoand Wrecker leave as Crosshair smiles and kneels down the opposite side of Hunter, running a hand through Tech’s fur.

“You know, I miss when your fur was so much fluffier. But at least we have Omega to fix that now.” Crosshair jokes, making Omega chuckle and Tech glare. “Yeah, like I could keep the fluffy fur of a baby werewolf forever.” He rolls his eyes, making Crosshair chuckle. Echo and Wrecker return with blankets, arranging them on the floor. “There!! Now we get to have a nice cuddle with our baby sis!!” Wrecker yells excitedly, and Echo nods. “Yep!”

Tech carries Omega over, laying down on the blankets and laying her on his chest. He runs a hand along her back as the others lay down around them. “You are perfect. Our perfect little sister. I could never be able to make you any more perfect than you already are.” Tech whispers, making Omega snuggle into him more. She gently licks his cheek, making him smile and lick the top of her head. “We all think you’re perfect Omega, werewolf or not. Just like our Techy.” Wrecker chuckles, reaching a hand over Crosshair to let Tech’s shoulder.

“Yeah, he’s amazing. The best little brother ever.” Echo muses, making Omega chuckle. “He is, the best Ori’Vod in the galaxy, you all are.” With that they all have a group hug, and Tech knows that even if he had never asked to be a werewolf.

He wouldn’t change it for the world.

Taglist: @ahsokatano-thetogruta @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @lightning-wolffe

#star wars clone wars #my writing #the bad batch #Tech #Hunter #Wrecker #Crosshair #Omega #Werewolf Tech #tbb #family

39 notes · View notes

just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Love and Medicine ~ 1

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2,300ish

Summary: You begin your intern year at Avengers Medical Center

You let out a little groan as you turned around. You immediately knew you were naked as the cold wood floor sent chills down your bare body. Slowly opening your eyes, you took in your surroundings. You were home, in the house you had just inherited, boxes still pilled high around the living room you were laying in. Suddenly, someone else groaned beside you. You teased, clenching your eyes shut. The headache you had been ignoring since you woke finally broke free and you realized that your late night drunkenness must have caused you to bring a guy home.

You let out a long breath as you reopened your eyes and looked over at the hopefully-still-asleep man beside you. He wasn’t bad looking at all. You had really done well. He was blonde with a chiseled body. He had to have been at least six foot, which didn’t hurt. He was naked though, all out in the open on your living room floor. Cringing, you sat up, pulling one blanket from the couch to quickly cover yourself before standing and pulling one over him. You stood up silently, and began making your way out of the room. It was your first day of your intern year as a doctor, you couldn’t afford to be late.

You successfully made it to the doorway of the living room without a sound before the floorboard beneath you creaked. You should there, frozen, closing your eyes in hopes that the man sleeping behind you wouldn’t wake. You could hear him turn over, letting a small moan out of his mouth. Waiting a few more seconds, you started going again.

“You know…” the man started, clearly in his morning voice, “it’s usually rude to disappear on someone after spending a night with them.”

You quickly spun around to see him, still laying on his stomach, looking up at you with a sly grin.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “it’s my house, so it’s not that rude.”

He stood up, not grabbing the blanket as quick as he should have, letting you have another look at him. When you met his eyes again, it was clear that you had been caught staring and that he was enjoying it.

“Why the rush to silently get out of here?” He asked, tucking the blanket around his waist. “Have a husband or a boyfriend you have to hurry and get ready for?”

“Neither,” you responded, tightening your hold on the blanket covering you. “I’m running late for my first day of work. So, if we’re done here, you should go.”

“We don’t have to be done here.”

“I think we do.” You kicked up his shirt, grabbing it, and throwing him at it. “You need to go.” He caught his shirt, slipping it on slowly over his clear cut abs. “So, um, goodbye… um…”

“Steve,” he reached his hand out.

“Steve. Right,” you shook his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He smiled. It almost took your breath away, but you couldn’t let it show.

“Yeah.”

“Nice meeting you.”

“Yeah. Bye, Steve.”

You fled up the stairs, hoping that by the time you were done getting ready, Steve would be gone.

~~~

You made it to the Avengers Medical Center just in time to meet up with the other interns in your year. The Chief of Surgery, Dr. Nicholas J. Fury, was leading a small tour to the ORs. He started talking as the interns took in the OR.

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors,” Fury stated. “The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you.”

He then told each of the interns which resident they were assigned to. You got Dr. Gamora. All of the interns were then taken to the locker room, where each of you were assigned a locker and given scrubs to change into and start your long day.

“Only ten women out of thirty,” you muttered as you slipped your scrubs on.

“Yeah,” the woman with fiery red hair next to you responded. “I heard that one of them was a model. Seriously, like that’s going to help with the respect thing?”

“You’re Natasha, right?”

She nodded. “You’re Y/N?”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Gamora.”

“Me too.”

“You got Gamora?” A male intern repeated beside you. “So did I. At least we’ll all be tortured together, right? I’m Clint Barton, uh, we met at the mixer. You had a dress with a slit up the side, those shiny heels…” You and Natasha exchanged looks. “Now you think I’m gay.”

“Uh-huh,” Natasha hummed, heading out the door.

“No, I’m not gay! It’s, ah, it’s just that, you know, you were, I mean… You were very unforgettable,” Clint rambled as you both followed after Natasha. You shot him a sympathetic smile before hurrying to catch up with Natasha. “And I’m totally forgettable.”

“Barton, L/N, Romanoff, Valkyrie, Lang,” a doctor called at the door way.

“Gamora?” Natasha questioned that doctor that called you.

“End of the hall.”

The five of you that were called began walking. At the end of the hall, you saw a pretty woman working on paperwork. She didn’t look as threatening as you had heard she was.

“That’s Dr. Gamora?” Natasha wondered.

“From what I heard, I thought she’d look scarier,” the other male in your group of five said. You guessed it was Scott Lang.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “I thought she’d be… well, bigger.”

“Same,” you added.

“Maybe it’s professional jealousy,” a woman in your group suggested, Valkyrie, you presumed. “Maybe she’s brilliant, and they say things about her because they’re jealous. Maybe she’s really nice.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re the model,” Natasha said.

“Wait…” Clint said, looking at Nat. “I thought you were the model.”

Valkyrie shot Natasha a look before turning to Dr. Gamora with an extended hand. “Hi, I’m Valkyrie, but everyone calls me Val.”

Gamora looked her up and down, not even moving to shake Val’s hand. “I have five rules,” Gamora stated, clearly unimpressed already. “Rule number one, don’t bother sucking up, I already hate all of you, that’s not gonna change.” She turned and pointed to things on the counter. “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours.”

Gamora began walking away with you and the others quickly following, after each of you have grabbed the things off the counter.

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop and don’t complain!” She continued. Gamora led you to a door, opening it to reveal a room with bunk beds. “On call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woke me for no good reason, we clear?” There was a brief pause before you nervously raised your hand. “Yes.”

“You said five rules,” you tried to hold back a cringe as you spoke up. “That was only four.”

Suddenly, Gamora’s pager beeped. “Rule number five. When I move, you move.” She ran down the corridor, followed by you and the other interns. “Get out of my way!” She yelled at a few doctor’s blocking the hallway.

You had the others followed Gamora to the ER. There was a bustling trauma room that the six of you entered. There was a young female on the stretcher, already being hooked to the machines.

“What’ve we got?” Gamora asked.

“Savannah Chase, fifteen year old female,” the paramedic still in the room stated. “New onset seizures, intermittent for the past week. ID lost en route. Started gran mal seizing when the ambulance pulled up.”

“Alright, get her on her side, Val, ten milligrams Diazepam.” Val started to do as she was directed while the rest of you watched. “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large bore IV. Don’t let the blood haemolyse, let’s go!”

Val injected the young woman with the diazepam and she stopped seizing. A new Doctor entered the room.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” The man asked.

“Absolutely Dr. Banner,” Gamora responded.

“Dr. Gamora, I’m gonna shotgun her.”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem seven, a tox screen,” Gamora clarified for the interns. “Natasha, you’re on labs, Clint, patient workups, Y/N, get Savannah for a CT, she’s your responsibility now.” Gamora began to walk away.

“Wait,” both Val and Lang called out. Gamora turned back around.

“What about us?” Val asked.

“You two—honey, you get to do rectal exams.”

~~~

You were currently in an elevator with Savannah, the patient, trying to find your way to CT. Since it was your first day at the medical center, you didn’t know where anything was and you were too stubborn to ask.

“You’re lost,” Savannah stated.

“I’m not lost,” you defended. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m missing my pageant.”

“You’re missing your pageant.” You wheeled her out of the elevator and around a corner, still not knowing where you were headed.

“The Manhattan Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could’ve won.” Savannah sat up as she was wheeled back around the same way. “Hello? You’re so lost. What are you, like, new?”

“I’m— just tell me what happened.”

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse.”

You gritted your teeth, trying not to be over-the-line rude to a patient on your first day. It took you almost another forty five minutes to find CT. You helped her with the scan before taking her back to a room. Before you knew it, it was lunch time. You grabbed some food from the cafeteria, finding your group of interns alone at a table.

“Savannah Chase is a pain in the ass,” you grumbled as you sat down with your tray. “If I hadn't taken the Hippocratic oath, I'd Kevorkian her with my bare hands.” The others around her just stared. “What?”

“Good afternoon interns,” a new doctor came up. “I’m Dr. Maria Hill. It’s posted, but I thought I’d share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I’m running the OR today, I get to make that choice. I’ve been watching you all and I have to say, you’re all something. The intern I’ve chosen is, Scott Lang.”

Scott coughed up the drink he had been taking. “M-me?” He questioned.

“You’ll scrub in for an appendectomy this afternoon. Congratulations.” Then she left.

“Did she say me?”

“I can’t believe you were chosen over me,” Natasha grumbled. “It’s already clear that I’m a better surgeon that you.”

“Did she say… I’m sorry. What?”

~~~

After lunch, you went back to Savannah’s room to take care of her. As you did, a man and a woman, not doctors, came in.

“Savannah, honey, mom and dad are here,” the woman said, coming over to Savannah’s bedside.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s a little groggy,” you informed them.

“Will she be alright?” The mother asked.

“Our doctor at home said she might need an operation, is that true?” The father wondered.

“What kind of operation?”

“She’s, um, well, you know what,” you tried your best to sound professional through your nervous stuttering, “I’m not, I’m not the doctor, uh. I am a doctor, but I’m not Savannah’s doctor, so I’ll go get him for you.”

You quickly left the room to go find Gamora. Thankfully, she was at the nurses desk just outside of the room. You hurried over but were too nervous to start speaking.

“What?” Gamora questioned, not looking up from the paperwork she was doing.

“Savannah’s parent’s have questions,” you responded. “Do you talk to them, or do I ask Banner?”

“No, Banner’s off of the case. Savannah belongs to the new attending now, Dr. Rogers, he’s over there.”

You follow in the direction that Gamora gestured to. You only made it a few steps before freezing. The man Gamora gestured to was talking to another doctor. But that wasn’t the reason you froze. Dr. Rogers was none other than your one night stand, Steve. Your eyes widened and you turned to go, but it was too late. Steve glanced your way, having to do a double take. You quickly left, feeling his eyes on the back of you.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

next chapter >

NOTES: Yes, this has been posted before, but I deleted it. I’m trying again. From now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#steve rogers x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #nick fury x reader #clint barton x reader #scott lang x reader #valkyrie x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #gamora x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

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qvid-pro-qvo · 3 years

Note

uhm can we get a hotch x reader with prompts 1 and 5 from the dialogue prompts list? whatever you want, gender neutral🥺 ily and your writings, if you're not ok with this request it's ok :)

aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader.

word count: 2019

rating: teen, for someone you love meaning more than anything else in the world, in moments just like these (tw: hospital scenes, car crashes, canon-typical violence. hurt/comfort).

Aaron finds himself pushing through glass double doors, rushing to the desk of the emergency room. It’s his nightmare come to life, his job as unit chief colliding with personal circumstances. It’s a horror and a nightmare, and when he makes it to the nurse who’s working, he speeds through his credentials to get him through the door.

But they don’t get him through the door. Nothing gets him through the door, and when JJ and Dave come in behind him, it’s to see his face crumple.

He should’ve been there, he should’ve seen it coming. The stop sign the two of you blew, chasing a suspect, the collision with a car who didn’t hear the sirens. He should’ve known, should’ve come sooner so he could be there for the both of you. But instead, what he got was a firm no from the nurse.

“You’re not next of kin. Until I get clearance, I can’t let anyone back there who is not directly related.”

Never mind that the team is your family. Never mind that you’ve been in Aaron’s life for what should be lifetimes. Never mind that the last time he saw you, it was to kiss your cheek, tell you goodbye, only for the chase to start…

“Those are two of my agents back there,” he bites out, and the words are a little strangled, even as he tries to keep his composure. “Those are two – two of my agents, and I need to see them. Please.”

A lesser person would be terrified by the fire in Aaron’s eyes. But the nurse does not back down. The sympathy in her gaze is clear, but she simply lifts her chin, meets those eyes with ease. “I’m sorry, sir. Someone will be out to discuss the situation shortly, and talk about procedure. Until then, if or when I get the word that visitors can come in, I’ll let you know.”

Emily and Reid come through a few minutes later, and Aaron looks up to watch them push to the same front desk. Their shoulders drop, just like his did, and when they turn it’s to see Dave and JJ beside their unit chief, the three of them… waiting.

“Anything?” Emily asks, and Aaron shakes his head, dropping his chin, elbows on his knees. All of the possible outcomes are filtering through his mind, from worst-case to best, and then back down to worst. Best, unscathed. Unharmed. Worst, unspeakable. Unnamed. Because he knows the truth can only fall somewhere in the middle, he forces the extremes through his head, if only to have something to occupy his thoughts.

“You’re driving yourself crazy, Aaron,” Dave whispers to him, when the others move to get food. It’s been two hours since the crash, two hours without a peep of news. “You have to focus on the positive. The first responders got there, to the both of them. They’re here, and they’re getting treated by capable hands.”

“Two hours, Dave,” Aaron returns, not meeting his friend’s eyes, blinking up at the sight of another set of double doors barring the path to you and Morgan. “We both know that it’s not that simple.”

Soon, the team returns, and the waiting seems to start all over again. Pacing takes up the time between no news and any information they can gather, listening, watching, and needling for anything about their loved ones. And each time those double doors swing open, a beep signaling the passage of someone who could give them answers, another name is called, another family pulled in to discuss the future of those they care about.

Aaron and his team have to wait.

Make calls to Jack and Jess.

And wait.

Calls to the precinct, to the sheriff, to the Bureau, to Strauss.

And wait.

It hits five hours when their messenger comes through. A world-weary physician, who blinks down at the chart and calls out your last name. Aaron stands, suddenly, and the movement makes him dizzy, but he ignores his body just to stride forward with the rest of his team, who gather around the doctor with the same pleading eyes, begging for good news.

“For Morgan, too?” he asks, and Aaron sees Dave nod beside him, sees JJ’s hands clasp together in front of her. “All right. My name is Dr. Roberts, I’ve been in to see both of them. We ran some cursory tests – CT scans, a couple of x-rays, and a full physical exam.”

“And what’d you find?” Emily pushes, and Aaron glances to her to see her thumb held up to her mouth, biting at her nails lightly.

“Well, they got lucky. The hit came to the back half of the SUV, which means that Morgan sustained minimal injuries and abrasions. A concussion, due to the impact, but that’s to be expected.”

There’s a sigh of relief from the team, but the waiting isn’t done yet. Need another cursory glance over the chart, the man before the team hums, and Aaron finds his patience wearing thin. “Doctor,” he urges, and when their eyes meet the battle of wills commences again. “The… the other agent. Please.”

This time Aaron wins out.

“Broken leg,” Dr. Roberts responds, sighing. “Sedation has been helping with the pain, but it’s fractured enough that we’ll need to put in some pins. As soon as the on-call trauma surgeon gets here, we’ll be in the operating room.”

“Can we see them?” Reid asks. “Both of them?” His voice is hopeful, and Aaron can’t help the way his hand lifts to rest on the younger agent’s shoulder when the doctor says yes. He can feel the tension leave him at the affirmation that they’ll be able to finally get back there, find you and Morgan, take care of you.

Together the BAU gathers their things to make their way through. When they make it to the door, ready to get led back, Dr. Roberts holds up a hand to stop them.

“A couple at a time. We’ll be going into surgery in around 45 minutes to an hour,” the doctor informs you. He looks at the group expectantly, numbered five. “Can’t have all of you in a room at once. Let’s say half in each room at a time.”

The team looks around at each other. In that moment, being the unit chief doesn’t matter nearly as much as being a part of the BAU, being folded into the tight-knit group, the unbreakable family ties. Aaron thinks about you, alone, and finds his jaw clenching.

“We’ll switch off,” he tells the group. “And when they take… when the surgery starts… we’ll take turns with Morgan until he gets discharged.”

Dave’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. The tension leaks from him, and he sighs.

“We’re still on a case. Those of us who aren’t waiting once the surgery starts need to keep on it.”

“Hotch –” Emily tries to argue, but with a firm look she nods.

“We can’t drop the ball on this. Morgan’ll tell us as much when we get in there,” JJ agrees, and Aaron looks to her with a tight smile.

“Dave, Emily, and JJ will go to Morgan.” That’s his final call. Their eyes fall on him, and he looks to Reid, who nods at the implication. “I need to make a call to Strauss, and then I’ll be in there to join you.”

When Aaron settles into the space next to your bed, he reaches for your hand immediately. Grimaces at how cold it feels, and finds himself holding it in both of his palms, just rubbing to bring blood, life, feeling back into it. Your eyes stay stubbornly closed, and though he knows the surgery went successfully, there’s a stillness that leaves him feeling… unnerved. You’re not meant to be still. You’re meant to be tapping your fingers against the sheets, pushing your hand through your hair, leaning close to him.

All he can see now is the rise and fall of your chest. The stiffness of your left leg, wrapped up and casted.

He squeezes your fingers again.

He doesn’t know what urges him to start speaking. But he does. Starts talking, and can’t find himself stopping. Reid isn’t there, the rest of the team is with Morgan settling your discharge information as well as his own. It’s just you and Aaron, and he sighs with his thumb pressed between the furrow of his brows.

He kisses your knuckles, and murmurs against them. It’s in time with the rhythm of your heartbeat, some sentences. Like your breathing is the bassline to his life. Maybe it is. And if it isn’t, maybe it should be.

“All this tells me is that I should marry you,” he says. “Not letting me in on a – on a technicality.” You don’t answer, you’re still asleep, but he can see you chuckle with it. “And you see, this is the part where you tell me you’re proud of me. I didn’t lash out at the nurse, or Dave, I just. Waited. Trusted in you to be there for me.”

The beeping continues. Steady. Strong.

“Morgan is okay. Don’t worry. Just a couple of cuts, some bruises. A concussion.”

He shakes his head. “He blames himself. He was driving after all. But I told him, I had to tell him, that it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t believe me, or anyone else, but. We’ll work on it. And once you’re awake, you can tell him, too.”

Your eyes blink open, but Aaron doesn’t notice at first. His eyes are still focused on your fingertips.

“It scares me, knowing that this is our life. That this will always be our life. But I wouldn’t trade it, for anything.”

“Neither would I,” you hum out.

When he glances up to see you awake, it’s with a smile on your face.

“Hey, handsome,” you murmur. Your voice is weak, but light, gentle, and he can’t help but shake his head with a chuckle. “Wasn’t expecting you when I woke up, too.”

“What do you mean?”

But you’re already drifting again, your thoughts running through your head and coming to the surface without much push. It’s the anesthesia, of course. You start shaking your head when you realize that one of your legs is stationary. Unmoving. “What happened?”

“Car accident. Your leg broke,” he tells you, and your frown is deep, lines around it emphasizing your displeasure.

“Well. I guess I’m on… bedrest, then. That’s… shitty.”

He laughs, despite himself, despite how much it aches to know that this happened at all, because of you. He smiles, and kisses your knuckles again, and leans close to kiss your forehead, because of all that he feels for you.

“Yes, my love. I would say so.”

“If I fell asleep again… would you be shirtless again?”

He blinks, shaking his head. Your filter is truly gone as you continue to rouse, and he smirks as you hum and do your best to move.

“Shirtless?” he dares to ask, and you nod.

“In my dream.” There’s a pleasant smile on your face, like you’re remembering something good. Something great. He laughs again. “We were in the office, and everyone forgot their shirts, and… and I asked you… ‘what – what are you doing with your shirt off?’”

Aaron can’t help his snort, shaking his head and bringing your hand up to his lips. You’re starting to doze off again, and so he pushes a little more, to let you go over the edge into dreamworld again.

“And?”

“And you told me that it was to impress me… and… convince me to stay in the BAU.”

Your words are starting to slur again, and he lets your hand rest against your body, still holding it, loose in his grip.

“Did it work?”

You hum, and your eyes flutter closed. “Honey… I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Your breathing starts to even out again, but that smile remains, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Rest well, my love. I’ll be here.”

“Shirt on?”

“Unfortunately. Now, rest.”

#prompt fill #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #gender neutral reader #hurt/comfort #tw hospital #tw car crash #criminal minds #my fic

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ct7567329 · 3 years

Text

Everything I’ve Ever Wanted: Hevy x Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Female Reader, Probably the 2nd worst thing I’ve ever written.

Word Count: 4.1k (Sorry)

It was another rainy day on Kamino and you found yourself twisting around a small piece of fabric between your fingers as you leaned over the training arena. While other padawans got to explore the galaxy, study holocrons or improve their saber skills, you were stuck on Kamino overlooking the training of clones. You couldn't imagine a worse way to go through apprenticeship but it wasn'tymour choice. Shaak Ti chose you as a padawan, and you had to obey her wishes.

Quickly, your master realized you were a trouble maker. She would always tell you how much you reminder her of late Jedi Master Rael Averross, but she never bothered to explain what that entailed. The only detail she shared was that it meant you were always up for a challenge, which is why she assigned you to help the Domino Squad out.

At a first glance, the Domino Squad seemed like a typical squad of clones. But they acted more like bickering brothers rather than brothers in arms. A typical day of their additional training you provided was usually late night bonding, not necessarily fighting tactics. The boys didn't seem to mind this, except one. CT-782.

CT-782 was the most stubborn clone you've ever met. He refused to have a name other than his CT number, which you constantly told him wouldn't fly with any general. CT-782, of course, didn't care.

One night, you decided a game of 'Who's most likely to?' as a bonding exercise.

CT-782 picked up a card and read it aloud, "Who's most likely to pierce their own ear? This game is kriffing bantha shit!" He flung the card across the room, "How's this going to help us," he passed for a moment before bitterly muttering the last word, "padawan?"

You rested your elbow on your knee and pressed your palm into your forehead, sighing, "Your final test is in three days. This is my last session with you guys. Can you please, please for once take my considerations?" CT-782 got on your last nerve, but something about that drove you crazy inside, in an almost lusty fashion.

"On behalf of all of us, Commander, we deeply apologize for CT-782's unkind words towards you," Cutup said, giving you a look of sorrow.

Figuring you could make a lesson out of this, you replied, "You control and dictate your lives and those of the people around you. Remember, when you are cast out to war, you have each other. Don't do something you know can effect your brothers in a negative way. Back when I was a youngling, my squad would always say 'teamwork makes the dreamwork'. Now, I'm sure you've all dreamed of being an ARC Trooper. Well, ARC Troopers always respect and care for those around them, especially their brothers. Remember that boys, because once you master that, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, you all have ARC Trooper capabilities."

This made all of the men smile, except for CT-782 of course.

"Oh yeah. Coax us with dreaming of being an ARC Trooper right before deployment. I guarantee you sweetheart, we'll all be dead within three fights. Just like the rest of us," CT-782 huffed, his arms crossed, "If you're a Jedi, then why can't you give us real training. Something that will actually help us become ARC troopers."

You weren't going to win with him, "You treat everything so heavy. I promise you, everything I've done has done something. Take everything I say with a grain of salt and I promise, you'll end up exactly where you need to be.

Three days later, CT-782 was convinced you've lied to him. Watching the Domino Squad fail their final test pained you. You looked at your master with sorrow in your eyes, "My Padawan, inform the Domino Squad they will be allowed to try again tomorrow."

You nodded, "Of course, Master."

When you made it to their barracks, it was completely empty. Not a single sign of the Domino Squad. Figuring they were eating in the mess or something like that, you left a holopad on all of their bunks with the message from your Master, along with some words of encouragement, personalized for each guy. It was the least you could do.

Later that night, you returned on their barracks to leave another holopad with good luck in their lockers. As you turned the corner to their allotted locker area, you found CT-782 digging through his locker.

"Going somewhere?" you asked, clearly startling him.

He sighed when his eyes met yours, "As far away from here as possible."

You pressed your lips together, "I should report you, but I don't want to do that to you. Here sit down." You patted the bench that was in the middle of their locker area. He was hesitant, but he agreed and sat down next to you.

"Why aren't we good enough?" he asked, setting his Z-6 blaster on the ground, "we all get the same training."

"You could give one thousand men the same training, but you will never have those thousand men fight the same way." you calmly stated, crossing your legs, "Every squad has a different dynamic."

He grunted, "And ours clearly isn't up to your expectations."

"Hevy," you sighed, "I promise you, you all have amazing potential. I wouldn't lie about that."

CT-782 cocked his head, "What?"

"I said you all have amazing potent-"

"No before that," he interrupted you.

You thought back to what you said, "Every squad had a different dynamic?"

"No after that."

"I'm confused?"

He rolled his eyes, "You called me Hevy?"

Then it clicked, "Ohh! That's what General Ti and I call you. We prefer to give our troopers names."

"Hevy, huh?" he huffed, "I think I actually like that. Makes it more special since you gave it to me."

You hummed stiffly between your lips, "So you don't hate me."

He paused. "Why do you have faith in us? In me?"

"Because you're an amazing person, Hevy, inside and out," you answered without thinking.

You didn't realize what you said until Hevy's cheeks became slightly flustered. "I need to go. Good luck tomorrow," you quickly covered yourself up, heading out of the barracks. Hevy remained sitting on the bench, stunned with what he just heard. But now wasn't the time to let feelings getting the way of the upcoming test.

The next morning, you were staring down at the testing arena, eyes locked on the entry way. The Domino Squad was next in line to test. When they finally entered the arena, you stiffened up, anxious of what was soon to come. What usually was a jumble of blaster fire and running into each other was actually an impressive display of skills. For once, it seemed as if the boys were actually fighting together, not just as individuals.

And moments later, Hevy pulled the citadel buzzer out of its place. They actually passed. You felt the weight of not knowing their future slide off your shoulders. They kriffing did it. Hevy ripped off his helmet and looked up at the observation deck, making eye contact, then playfully saluting you. You smiled in response, and gave him a loose salute back.

Later that night, you met up with the Domino Squad in their barracks to congratulate them with their medals. Slowly, you pinned each medal to their cadet uniform.

"I'm proud of you all," you announced, "I'm certain you will accomplish amazing things. I'm probably standing in front of some future ARC troopers."

Hevy and Fives beamed with joy at the mention of them possibly beaming ARCs in the future.

"Don't get too lonely here without us!" Echo chimed in, "We will all miss you greatly."

You brought you hand up to your mouth to try to conceal you soft smile, "I'm leaving too, you know. Off to help command the 212th legion. Which reminds me, I have a meeting soon with General Kenobi. Again, congratulations boys," you began to walk away, "Until we meet again!"

The boys sighed, knowing they would probably never see you again. Hevy wasn't ready for that. Hours later, when the boys were winding down for bed, he snuck out of his bunk and wandered the halls of his home. As he was walking, he realized that he actually didn't know where the Jedi stayed. His head quickly turned to a corridor. You were down there, he felt it.

After taking a deep breath, he opened knocked on the door he believed to be yours. It was a gentle knock, but loud enough for you to hear on the inside.

The knock on the door threw you off guard for a moment. You hastily got up off your bed and sat at your desk, turning on a random holopad. After you felt as if you looked 'presentable enough' for the unknown knocker, you used the force to open the door. A small "huh?" escaped your lips as you saw it was Hevy there.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" you asked as Hevy entered the room, hitting the close button behind him, "what brings you in here?"

Hevy shrugged, "I guess I wasn't ready to say goodbye."

"Take a seat," you offered, pointing to your couch. He was fast to take up that offer. You continued, "I do recall saying, 'Until we meet again'."

"That's true," he nodded, "I just-" Hevy opened his mouth to continue, then shut it, then opened again, nothing coming out. "I'm sorry," was all he managed to say.

"For?"

"Treating you like Bantha breath. No one deserves that, especially you." Hevy bit the inside of his cheek and looked down, mumbling the next sentence, "I was just intimidated."

You raised an eyebrow, "Hm?"

Hevy sighed, "It'sHardToBeTheToughGuyWhenYou'reSurroundedBySuchABeautifulGirl." His words were quick, almost impossible to decipher.

"What now?" you hummed, leaning in closer to him to try to hear better.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly, but still bluntly.

Your face went pale as he started to exhale slowly. His eyes glanced up to meet yours. You saw through him. Reality hit you. The next day, Hevy ships out, shiny and new. The most vulnerable of the clones. You didn't know where he would end up, but truthfully, the chances he'd live to see many more days were painfully low.

Jedi weren't forbidden from kissing. They were forbidden from emotional attachment. What would mean nothing to you, would mean everything to him.

Why not give this soldier the experience of his lifetime?

You reached out towards his sleep tunic and grabbed some fabric in your fist, pulling him in for a kiss. It wasn't long, but it felt eternal. Hevy gasped before the kiss, shocked you actually were okay with it. When you pulled back he had a blank face. He was off the walls ecstatic that it actually happened but devastated it was over.

Hevy tried to speak but he was still tongue tied, completely in awe of the taste of your lips on his.

"You have a big day a head of you. Go get some sleep," you smiled, waiting for him to exit.

"I shouldn't have been so rude to you," he whispered, slowly backing out of your room, "you've been nothing but kind to me."

You shrugged, "Not too late to change that."

He stared at you in silence, softly nibbling on his lip. "I couldn't have been half the solider I am today with out you."

"Well," you sighed as Hevy stepped out of your quarters. He turned his head to acknowledge your words. You continued, "May the force be with you out there, Hevy. Cause I won't!" you winked, closing your door.

You paced back to your bed and laid down, staring at the ceiling.

Jedi can kiss without attachment! One kiss couldn't hurt, right?

Oh, you were so wrong.

Three Months Later

"General?" Commander Cody's voice buzzed through your com link.

"Cody!" you cheered, "So glad to hear your voice. What's going on?"

Just hours prior, the outpost Cody was sent to inspect, completely exploded. The second you got word of what happened, you knew Grievous was behind it, and you were worried over the status of your commander.

"You worry too much General," he laughed, "but I have some soldiers in the medbay who want to speak to you. They told me not to tell you their names."

"Huh. Weird," you shrugged, "I'll be on my way. If any of them were in that blast with you, I think I owe them a drink when we get to Coruscant."

It didn't take you long to get to the medbay. Though the Jedi cruiser was large, you always managed to quickly navigate the halls. You entered the medbay and looked for Cody. Cody was no where to be found. You walked into one of the private outpatient rooms and your eyes caught glimpse of other soldiers you recognized, even though they weren't in the 212th.

"Either I'm on death sticks or that's the Domino Squad!" you laughed, approaching them. They were all gathered around a single cot. The men turned their heads and smiled at the sight of you. That's when you realized that Hevy was the trooper on the cot.

"It was you crazy baffoons that blew up the Rishi Moon station!? Why am I not surprised?" your attention shifted to Hevy, "what happened to you?"

Hevy pulled down his blanket slightly and lifted up his left arm, which wasn't much of an arm anymore. What was his arm was gone, and replaced with a cybernetic arm. "It's nothing pretty, but at least they gave me a hand," he mumbled, pulling the blanket back up over his new arm.

You spent hours chatting with the dominos. It was obvious they missed having you by their side, but you reassured them, it was even more obvious that they are doing perfectly fine without you. As the later night hours approached, the dominos slowly left the room one by one until you were alone with Hevy.

Fives was the last to leave, and as soon as he did, the room fell silent. Hevy was scratching softly at his thigh with his good hand.

"General," he finally said, turning his head towards you.

"You can call me (Y/N)," you quickly interrupted, looking towards him.

He paused and pressed his back against the inclined cot. Even a pin drop could be heard in the room.

"I keep thinking about it," he finally said, his eyes looking at his lap.

You cocked your head, "about what?"

"It," he repeated, still gazing at his lap.

Oh. He was thinking about it. That kiss. That innocent kiss which you thought would be nothing more than make a man you would never see again happy. That.

"Me too," you mumbled, "Me kriffing too."

His glance shot in your direction. You sensed this and did the same.

"(Y/N)," he exhaled, his words full of lust.

As if you were a droid and it was your programming to do so, you stood up from the chair next to his cot and walked over to him. You slid your hand down his still human arm and settled your hand in his.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," you said again, "More than a Jedi should admit."

He shot you a passionate look and did that darn lip nibble again. As if his eyes requested you too do so, you pushed yourself onto the cot and straddled over him, sitting on his lap. As you did so, he cupped your cheek in his hand and sighed.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" he whispered.

You took a deep breath before answering, "I'm not sure, but as long as we keep going, I don't think I care."

One Year Later

Hevy was playing a card game with some of the other men in the 501st, talking about their plans at 79's later that evening when his Captain, Rex, burst into the barracks.

"Anyone holding the rank of Sergeant or higher, or any ARC's, meet me in the briefing room immediately. That is all."

Rex left the room as quickly as he came in, leaving dozens of puzzled looks behind him. Hevy adjusted his ARC pauldron and walked with the rest of the called upon men to the briefing room. Upon arriving there, the usually lit room was dark, the only thing lighting it up was the hologram of Obi-Wan Kenobi and his General, Anakin Skywalker. Hevy noticed that typically, you were by Kenobi's side Turing holotransmissions. He hasn't seen you in two whole years, but the feelings he had towards you were still there. Not seeing you in the transmission made his heart clench. He had a bad feeling about this.

"We regret to inform you all of the passing of Jedi General (Y/N) (Y/LN). We understand (Y/N) was well respected throughout many legions. We wanted to inform the ranked soldiers first."

Hevy's heart sank. You were gone. There were so many things he wanted to say to you that he would never get the opportunity to. The Jedi reported you missing months ago, but at that point, Hevy wasn't too worried. He knew you were strong enough to survive on your own. But dead, that didn't sit well with him. Hevy was fast to get back to the barracks, where he sat on his bunk in silence. He didn't want to go to 79's that night. All he wanted to do was fall asleep, he could wake up from this nightmare.

Hevy was awoken around 0100 to yelling from outside the barracks. He got up off his bunk to find the barracks empty. It seems as if everyone else went to 79's. The yelling got louder and was understandable the closer he got to the barracks door.

"It's not fair! Not to anyone!" Anakin screamed at his master.

"Anakin, the council did what they must." Obi-Wan responded, trying to calm him down, "(Y/N) is in a safer place."

Anakin grunted, "And we must lie to everyone? Tell everyone she's dead?! Rex said Cody is devastated. Is that fair?! Why can't they know the truth?!"

From that point on, the conversation was too muffled to hear more but it was all Hevy needed to hear.

The Next Morning

"Echo, I need your help," Hevy asked his brother, who was peacefully eating his breakfast.

"If it's about (Y/N) I'm upset too," Echo responded, "but we have an important campaign on Ryloth soon and-"

"Please," Hevy begged, motioning Echo away from his food.

Echo shoved the remaining food in his mouth and followed Hevy, "What is it?"

Hevy nodded his head towards Echo's cybernetic arm that he acquired after a rough mission at the Citadel, "You can tap into the data base with that, right?"

Nodding slowly, Echo inserted his arm into a data port, "What do you need?"

"Open up any information on (Y/N). If it's password protected, try 408588463003. Those are the coordinates of her home planet. "

"I should question why you know that," Echo laughed, but his laugh soon turned to dead silence. "Oh my kriff," he muttered, leaning back on his heels, "she's alive."

"Where can I find her?" Hevy gasped, almost shaking Echo impatiently.

Echo was going to ask why, but truthfully, he was too hungover to worry. All he knew is that this would be his little secret with Hevy, "I think you already know. 408588463003."

"Thank you, brother," he nodded before rushing off. Neither Hevy nor Echo knew, that would be the last time they would see each other for a while.

Stealing a ship wasn't easy, but if it had to be done, Hevy knew how to do it. It didn't take him long to find a ship that wasn't only easy enough to steal, but neutral enough to fly into Separatist space undetected. With the push of a new buttons, he was on his way to find the truth. He was on his way to Serenno.

Hevy has never been to Serenno before. Besides, why would he? It has been Separatist controlled since the beginning of the war. But, with its location being deep in Separatist space, it wasn't too hard to land on the planet. Hevy followed his heart, which led him to a wooded area, far from any civilization.

As he exited the small ship, he looked around for any signs of life. Surprisingly, he almost missed the most obvious sign, a door built into the mountain side. Without hesitation, he knocked.

You were bundled up in some blankets on the couch in your home. It's been almost a year since the Jedi Council sent you back to your home planet. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you understood why. Jedi couldn't get pregnant, yet there you were. You were given only two days to leave the temple and escape to Serenno, alone. Well, except for the medical droid the council was kind enough to provide for you.

For the first time all day, you finally managed to find some peace and quiet. If there was one thing you learned while raising twins, it was that there is never a dull moment. There was a knock on the door. No one ever can out here. You rushed to your children's room and locked it, making sure who ever was at the door wouldn't have access to them. Before opening the door, you draped a blanket over your shoulders to hide your lightsaber you kept on your belt.

Cautiously, you opened the door and nearly screamed at who you saw.

"How the KRIFF did you get out here?!" you yelled, pulling Hevy by the shirt into your house, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" Before he could answer, the cried of two babies filled the house. "Great!" you groaned, "the kids are awake!"

About a hundred questions swirled through Hevy's mind. "Kids?" he asked, following you into their bedroom. "Since when did you-" he stopped when he saw the two infants, "Why do they look like me?"

"Very funny Hevy," you huffed, "very-" you paused, "wait. No one ever told you."

Hevy raised an eyebrow, "No one ever told me what? Just two day ago, I was informed you were dead. About a year ago, I was told you went MIA!"

You deeply sighed and picked up your daughter and son, handing your daughter to Hevy. He reluctantly took the baby from you, this was his first time holding an infant. Hevy sat on the floor with your daughter while you sat on a rocking chair with your son.

"What other lies did the council tell you?" you huffed, rocking your son back and forth.

Hevy bit his cheek, "With all due respect, Gener-, I mean (Y/N), I have no idea what's going on."

That's when you explained everything to him. How on that night after the Rishi Moon Outpost explosion, you and Hevy made a decision that would hinder your relations with the Jedi Order forever. How the Jedi sent you to Serenno to try to protect you and your children. How the Jedi lied about your whereabouts to hide the secret. How these children where in fact his, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Hevy brushed his thumb against the little girl's, his little girl's, cheek as she slept peacefully in his arms. You smiled at the father daughter moment, the first father daughter moment.

"You can stay if you like," you finally said, "they are your children just as much as they are mine. And besides, they wouldn't exist if I didn't feel something towards you."

He slowly looked up, away from his daughter and towards you, "You mean that?"

You nodded, "Yeah, and we can pick up where we left off. Right before our paths separated for what I long thought would be the last time."

"I regret every rude thing I said to you on Kamino and I-"

"Hey," you hushed, "I know. But that's history. This is now. The present." You stood up from the rocking chair and sat next to Hevy, resting your head on his shoulder. "You know, nothing about us is conventional, but I think it might work."

Three Years Later

"Uncle Fives is going to get you!" Fives screamed, chasing your children around in the yard. After the Clone War ended in victory, you and Hevy decided to disclose your location to the rest of the Dominos, and they were more than happy to move in with you two. Echo insisted he only did it to be with his niece and nephew but Hevy knew it was because Echo missed his brother.

"Aghhh!" Fives laughed, throwing his nephew over his shoulder, "gotcha!"

You and Hevy watched Fives run around with your children while you cooked dinner. Hevy rested his head on your shoulder from behind and swayed back and forth.

"Hun stop!" you giggled, "I have to cook."

"I know," he smiled, "I'm just happy. And everything is exactly how I could have ever wanted it to be."

@ganondorf-has-greasy-balls @lightning-wolffe @jedi-dreea @smells_sharpies @hannahjessica113 @gryffindorqueensworld @coffeeandtodd @soclonely @raf-loves-everything @peacelandbread @persaloodles @clone-lover501-212-104 @ahsoka-padme @dangerdumpling @808tsuika @ahsokatano-thetogruta @marvel-starwars-nerd @katelynnwrites @youmaynowdothething

#hevy x reader #clone x reader #ct782 #hevy #clone trooper hevy #domino squad #tcw #clone wars #ct7567329writes

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jgvfhl · 3 years

Text

The Number Lads

Part 1/???? 3K words, no warnings :)

So I’ve created an audience on Tumblr for the Number Lads, and I’ve happened to got 3K words here for them. So! Here are the origins of the Number Lads! More to follow.... eventually....

For future reference:

Sevenset = ARC-7777 = ARCBoiiiii

Do-si-do = CT-2222 = Double Trouble

Trees = CT-3333 = Green Bean

Loops = CT-8888 = Loopy

Sixes = CC-6666

Double Trouble: i meant it as a joke sevens

ARCBoiiiiii: i didn’t

ARCBoiiiii: what you think you can drop that information on me and i wont use it??? how long have you known me

Double Trouble: okay okay but if you die i’m not mourning you

Loopy: ouch

Green Bean: how do you have this much time to comm us when you’re at ARC training, sevenset

Green Bean: who changed my name

Double Trouble: :3c

ARCBoiiiii: what you don’t like it? thought it suited you, trees

Green Bean: why did i let you guys talk me into this club…

ARCBoiiiii: we’re awfully convincing that way

Double Trouble: you felt compelled

Double Trouble: it’s the numbers gang bond

Green Bean: it was not that

ARCBoiiiii: was it loops space buns

ARCBoiiiii: i bet it was loops space buns

Loopy: what

Double Trouble: they are adorable

Loopy: oh kriff you, don’t you have arc stuff to do, sevenset?

ARCBoiiiii: ehhhhh my next training block doesnt start for another 4min, so....

Double Trouble: well i gotta run, we’re going hyperspace in a min or so--remember the meeting next week!!! be there or be square!

ARCBoiiiii: we dont have any perfect squares yet ;-;

Green Bean: Yeah, yeah, i’ll see you weirdos eventually

Loopy: stay alive out there

Double Trouble: especially the guy who wants to recruit Commander Death over there

ARCBoiiiii: I’ll be fiiinnnne whats the worst that can happen

Green Bean: i mean. his name. is DEATH?

ARCBoiiiii: ..... a fair point.... i guess you’ll just have to wait until the next numbers gang meeting huh :)

Loopy: maker help you

----

Sevenset was uncharacteristically quiet that day during second meal, but only because his mouth was continually occupied with food, not talking. He was on the clock today.

“Hey, Sevenset, are you inhaling those rations, or…?”

He looked over at Buster next to him, quickly swallowing his food. “I just got something I wanna do,” he said, taking a glug of water.

“Something so important you’re taking one of the few unscheduled breaks we have to do it? Okay then.”

Sevenset cleaned the rest of his tray, flashing a grin at Buster as he stood up. “Don’t wanna be late. Got a meeting with death.” He really couldn’t resist the pun. Honestly.

Buster’s eyebrow raised skeptically. His friend next to him, Sketch, asked, “Is this about some new way you’ve managed to piss off the trainers? Because yeah, I’m sure Alpha could arrange a meeting with death for you if you… I dunno, painted pink hearts on his armor.”

“Amazing idea,” Sevenset admitted, his brain automatically figuring out where the pink paint was (he’d have to make it), where Alpha-17’s armor lived (not sure on that one), and how possible it would be to sneak in and out to accomplish the task (a challenge). “However, no, not this time. See you guys later!” He deposited his tray and utensils in the proper area to be cleaned, then jogged out of the mess hall.

Kamino’s winding halls and levels really weren’t efficient--but compared to Coruscant… he couldn’t really argue. A healthy stretch of time in the Guard had given him plenty of tools to make his way around inefficient, crowded, twisty places like this. It didn’t take long before he reached where he was going. Aside from the resident Rancor Battalion, there were often troopers on Kamino from various groups throughout the GAR. They stayed out of the way of those training in separate wings of Tipoca City, and right now, Sevenset was very keen to speak to a visiting commander.

He slipped into a lift with two other troopers--visiting, by the looks of their battered armor. Luckily, they were too engrossed in their own conversation to really notice him, despite his rather colorful tattoos that usually made him stick out. But it was for the best this time. He got off at the level above and started down the hall, reading door labels as he went, searching….

Ah. Here. He pushed a button to open the door, but it was locked. Not entirely surprising, but… now what? If his internal clock was still fairly accurate, he had about ten minutes before he needed to be back for the next training block.

“It’s locked for a reason.”

He whirled, his body almost automatically snapping to attention at the low voice behind him.

Commander Sixes (AKA Commander Death, remember) surveyed him with a disturbing lack of expression. He was tall, for a clone. Probably closer in height to some of the Alphas than to Sevenset. His black armor stuck out like green plants on Coruscant in the brightly lit halls of Tipoca City, making him somehow look even bigger. Even more unnerving, he still had his helmet on, the visor lit with a dull green light, and fixed pointedly on him. Sevenset hated not being able to read people...

Sevenset hadn’t planned for this. Come to think of it, a lot of the “plan” he’d concocted relied on a few assumptions, and all of them seemed to be fading. One of them had been that he would have no problem talking to a CO--he never had before. “Sir, hi--hello--I was uhm…” He managed to clamp down on the first coherent thought to float through his head, so instead of blurting, “You’re a lot taller than I thought you’d be,” he stumbled upon, “It’s a nice room you’ve got. From the outside,” and immediately wanted to bash his head in on the wall.

The commander’s helmet never moved, just kept staring him down. “Get out of my way,” he finally growled, taking a step forward.

Against all better judgement, Sevenset stood his ground, although he squished himself a bit closer against the door. “Yessir, of course, just--one thing, really quick thing, I promise.” When the commander didn’t kill him or rip his arms off or something, he went on, finally finding his words were cooperating with him. “So, you’re CC-6666, naturally. I happen to be CT-7777--Sevenset, I’m Sevenset. There’s a group of us, see, sir--with the repeating numbers, and we have little meetings--”

“No.”

“--is what I thought you’d say, but just--” he paused, fumbling a bit to pull a piece of flimsi out of his pocket. “There’s the frequency, there’s the date of the next meeting,” he said, holding out the flimsi scrap. “I’m sure the other boys would love it if you dropped by.” The end of his final sentence shriveled into an undignified squawk when Commander Sixes reached out, grabbed his collar, and shoved him bodily out of the way of the door.

“Get back to training before I have some of my boys drag you there,” he said, entering the door’s access code.

“I’ve got six minutes--”

The door slid shut in his face. Well. He was still alive. So… that counted as a success. Perhaps not a resounding success, but a success. He stood in stunned silence for a moment, still clutching the scrap of flimsi in his hand, wondering if he should stick it in the door so the commander would find it later. However, he had no trouble believing the commander’s threat that his men literally would drag him back to the ARCs if he told them to, so it was probably best not to linger.

Sevenset jumped to attention for the second time that day when the door slid open again. He just stood there, dumb, as Commander Sixes stepped out, plucked the scrap of flimsi from his fingers, then returned to his room with about as much ceremony as befitted dumping pebbles out of a boot.

Oh, yeah. Definitely a success.

---

The first thing Sixes did once back in the privacy of his albeit temporary rooms was remove the top half of his armor, only leaving the gauntlet with his wrist comm. Turning his attention to said wrist comm, he entered Colt’s number. There was a short wait before the other commander answered it.

“Everything alright over there, Sixes, sir?”

“It’s about one of the ARC candidates.”

There was a pause. Understandable. The ARCs weren’t supposed to be in this wing of Tipoca City. “Which one?” His tone suggested he already had his suspicions.

“Calls himself Sevenset.”

He heard inaudible muttering on the other end. “What’d he do this time?” Sixes had suspected as much.

“Quite a pair he’s got on him, hasn’t he?”

Colt laughed dryly. “Yeah, sure. Hopefully, he’s worth the trouble.”

Sixes looked over the scrap of flimsi in his other hand. “Yeah… I think he might be.”

~+~

Leaning back in his pilot’s chair, Do-si-do watched the little light on the ship’s holoprojector, waiting for the others to join the meeting. He always took the calls in his ship. It was more private than his bunk most of the time, and frankly, the audio quality was so much better than on the hand-held devices.

Trees was the first to join, punctual as usual.

“Hey, Trees,” he smiled.

“Have you heard from Sevenset yet?” he asked.

Do-si-do shook his head, combing strands of his bleached curls out of his face. “Nah. Figure he’s been too busy. Graduation was supposed to be a couple days ago, right?”

“Three, yes.”

Loops’ holographic miniature appeared beside Trees’. He looked exhausted, but awake. His long hair was down from his signature twin buns, and he leaned his chin on his hand, fingers resting just over the infinity symbol tattoo on his cheek.

“Loops,” Trees greeted him.

“Mph.”

“What happened to you?” Do-si-do asked.

“Supply shipment,” Loops sighed. “General Koon’s having skeleton crews tonight so we can get some sleep.” After a stifled yawn, he asked, “Is Sevenset dead yet?”

Do-si-do smiled. “Trees asked the same thing, and I have no idea.”

As if on cue, a third hologram popped up on the ship’s control panel. Sevenset beamed at them, his new ARC pauldrons proudly on display. “Guess who’s not dead, fellas!”

“Hey hey! Look at you, ARC-7777,” Do-si-do grinned, leaning forward in his seat. “How’s it feel?”

“I really love the kama, gotta be honest.” He was only visible from the waist up, but they could see him sway his hips back and forth, clearly enjoying his new gear.

“Show us the paint,” Loops demanded, as firmly has he could demand it in his half-asleep state.

Sevenset obliged, setting down his holoprojector--his personal one, now he had graduated--and stepping back so more of his body was visible. The paint job was fairly similar to his previous armor--the sharp edges, the circle on his right shoulder bell holding four stylized sevens--but the new armor on his chest and arms had forced some alterations. They could see just about all of the kama now, the bright red sevens standing out against the dark grey fabric. Predictable, maybe, but still eye-catching. That was Sevenset’s main goal, if it weren’t already clear from the tapestry of tattoos on his bald head that ran down his neck under his blacks, and the several glinting piercings in his ears and nose.

“It’s definitely you.” Trees, bluntly.

“They let you keep the red paint, huh?” Do-si-do said. Sevenset had previously been assigned to the Coruscant Guard. After proving a bit more trouble than the Guard could take, and catching some CO’s eye, he’d been shipped back to Kamino a couple months ago to join Rancor.

“Hey, if Commander Colt can have it, I guess I can too. No one stopped me.”

Without warning, a fourth hologram appeared beside the others in front of Do-si-do’s eyes. A trooper--a big trooper, even in miniature--and in dark armor, helmet included. His brows scrunched together as he studied the person, failing to recognize them.

Sevenset did. “Commander!”

“I see Colt decided against tossing you overboard.”

Oh, no karking way. “Commander Sixes?” Do-si-do blurted.

At the same time, Loops made some unintelligible noise and suddenly disconnected, and Trees froze like a lizard when a hawk flies overhead, his eyes gone wide, one arm half-way to a salute. Frankly, Do-si-do could understand their reactions. Commander Sixes--like many of the CCs--was legendary. His wing of Star Fighters had fought through some of the toughest space battles so far, and always came out of it. As a pilot himself, Do-si-do had heard story after story about their skills. The fighter wing and the commander now wore the nickname Death, thanks to their brutal but effective tactics.

There was a brief and painfully quiet pause before the commander said, “Pride of the GAR, this lot.”

“Eh, they’ll get over it,” Sevenset shrugged, his hologram appearing to zoom in as he came closer again. “Right, Trees?” he added with a grin. Their friend was still in shock, it looked like. “Might have to tell him to relax, sir.”

The commander’s helmet turned towards Trees. “At ease. Take a breath before you pass out.”

Trees blinked, lowering his arm. “Yessir,” he said quietly, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

“I’ll try to get Loops back,” Sevenset said, a datapad appearing in his hands. Damn, ARCs really did get all the good stuff. Do-si-do still had to share a datapad with his squad of pilots.

“Shouldn’t there be more?” Commander Sixes asked.

“Of us? Yeah,” Do-si-do answered. “I guess there should be nine of us, in theory.”

“Nine or ten,” Trees said, his tone still a bit clipped.

“Ten or eleven, actually,” Sevenset corrected, still looking at his datapad. “We don’t know if a CT designation can be all zeroes. Might have been taken out of the system, who knows.”

“It’s hard when we don’t have access to the full GAR database,” Do-si-do went on. “We have to rely on hearsay and brothers from other battalions. Sevenset and I met by chance on Coruscant.” Loops’ hologram reappeared. He looked a bit more awake now, still visibly on edge from the commander’s arrival, and with a glower on his face. “Loopy! Welcome back.”

“I hate you.”

“Whoa, hey, I didn’t know he was coming either,” he defended himself. “Blame Sevenset.”

“I’m blaming both of you,” Loops said. “You told Sevenset about him, and Sevenset was stupid enough to go through with it.”

Sevenset, his attention off his datapad and back on the meeting, put a hand over his heart. “Stupid enough?” he repeated, doing his best to sound utterly wounded. “I think you mean ballsy enough.”

“He meant stupid enough,” the commander replied immediately and without emotion. “And I agree.”

Do-si-do snorted a laugh at the look of utter indignation on Sevenset’s face. Even Trees relaxed a bit more. “Okay, I can get used to having a CC around,” he grinned.

“Finally, someone with the authority to tell him off,” Loops said, expressing Do-si-do’s feelings exactly.

The recipient of their mocking pouted at them, folding his arms as best he could with his new armor. “Now I just feel unloved.”

“Why do I get the feeling Commander Fox was only too happy to get you qualified for ARC training?” the commander asked, his tone remaining impassive.

“For your information,” Sevenset said, then stopped, realizing, as they all had, that the commander had known where Sevenset had previously served. No one had told him this information. “How did you know I was in the Guard?”

They all turned to the commander. “I’m a commander. I can look anyone up. I looked you all up.”

Do-si-do leaned even farther forward in his seat, a huge smile on his face. “You have access to the full database?”

“You can find the others!” Sevenset completed, a similar smile on his face as well.

There was a pause. Do-si-do was starting to think Commander Sixes just liked the drama they created. In fact, judging by how he had yet to show his face and was wearing all black armor, it seemed Commander Death was fond of the dramatic in a few ways. “In theory, sure.”

“Yes! Oh, fantastic,” Sevenset went on, rubbing his hands together. “You can tell us where they’re stationed--”

“If they’re still alive,” Trees added in. He had a point.

“--and then we can find them!”

The commander’s helmet tilted, his expression hidden. “I’m guessing Fox declined membership,” he said.

Do-si-do snorted a gain, and Trees and Loops both smiled. They all remembered Sevenset’s story of trying to recruit Commander Fox to be number ten for their little group.

“If by ‘declined membership’ you mean, ‘shipped me out to Kamino for someone else to deal with,’ then yes,” Sevenset answered. “He declined.”

“Maybe you can ask him,” Loops said.

“Hey, yeah--”

“No.” The commander’s tone didn’t leave much room for argument, but that had never stopped Sevenset a day in his life, and Do-si-do was more than content to sit back and enjoy the show.

“But you’re his big brother, right? You can drag him into things--”

“I’m not a damn recruiter, ARC, now stand down.”

The effect was instantaneous. They all recognized a CO’s “talk back and you’ll be cleaning ‘freshers for the next month” voice. Combined with Commander Sixes’ already awe-inspiring reputation, his order shut them all up. Trees once again straightened to attention, and this time they all joined him, even Sevenset.

“Understood, sir,” he replied. Do-si-do could see the new training in him now. Sevenset wouldn’t be an ARC if he didn’t know when to drop the comic act, but the speed and discipline with which he’d done so just now was different.

The commander waited a second or two, then he nodded once. “At ease.”

They relaxed, mostly. It was hard to ignore the mood shift that had taken place. As cool as it was having a commander in the club… there were some obvious issues that needed addressing if this was going to remain a “just for fun” place.

Do-si-do found himself as the one breaking the uneasy silence. “But… you can help us find where the others are stationed, right, sir?”

The commander’s helmet dipped. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Can you do that… now?” Sevenset ventured.

The commander’s helmet tilted to one side, and it looked like he sighed. “Fine.” The others perked up. “But, I can only find their assignments, not their current locations.”

“We can work with that,” Do-si-do agreed, and the others nodded along. “Who’s writing this down?”

“I can!” Sevenset volunteered.

Trees reminded him, “Your handwriting is entirely illegible. Even to you.”

“Yes, but now I have a datapad. I can type all my notes.”

“I’m just going to start talking if you boys don’t figure it out,” the commander warned.

“Okay, okay, fine, Trees can copy it.”

Trees’ organization skills would always beat out Sevenset’s anyway. Maybe ARC training had fixed that, though. Trees shifted around, grabbing what he needed, then looked up and nodded when he was ready.

The commander’s helmet tipped down to look at something--presumably a datapad--as he spoke. “CT-4444 is with the Marines under Bacara. Probably has limited contact availability depending on the mission. Infrequent leave.” Do-si-do’s eyebrows raised, and he glanced at Sevenset and Loops. They hadn’t been expecting a tactical rundown of each person. But… they wouldn’t complain. “CT-27-5555 is the only ‘fives’ trooper in the GAR. He’s one of Rex’s freaks, so good luck getting your hands on him.”

“That’s the five-oh-first, right?” Loops asked. “Torrent, or something?”

“Yeah. Rex’s freaks. I’m sure he’ll fit right in.” Do-si-do smirked. He probably would. “And CT-9999 is with Ghost Company in the two-twelfth. Pretty decent chance he and number five have run missions together. Or will in the future, anyway.”

“Is there a CT-0000?” Loops wanted to know.

“What about eleven-eleven?” Sevenset added.

The commander glanced up at them, then back to his materials. “Yeah, the one-eighteenth has a CT-0000. Didn’t find an eleven-eleven, though.”

Do-si-do frowned. “Not even a casualty report?”

“No.”

“But… he could still be on Kamino, right?” Trees said. “Cadets don’t show up in the main database until they graduate and deploy.”

The commander nodded. “He could be a cadet.”

“I could look,” Sevenset offered. “I mean. I live here now, so I should be able to find out if a CT-1111 exists. It’ll just take a bit longer.”

“Yeah, we’ll figure it out,” Do-si-do nodded. “In the meantime,” he continued, leaning forward, “who’re we going after first?”

Ta-daaa!! @blsmjoon @nintendolover13-ts4 (I couldn’t tag your side blog sorry) @alamogirl80 (idk why I can’t tag you either ;-;) @23-bears @theultimatesandwich

#my writing #my fanfic #clone ocs #number lads #numbers gang #tcw fanfic #sixes my beloved #I love how min started that tag #and like #three other people have started using it #sixes bein all mysterious oooo #not taking off his helmet ooooo #I finished this #then realized #I've put sevenset and fives #right in the battle of kamino #WHOOPS #lol

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