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bb-babyy · 2 years

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The Unplanned Road Trip (1)

Argyle x reader

Warning(s): Mature; swearing; violence

Summary: You were unfortunate enough to get wrapped up in the chaos of finding El with your boyfriend, his best friend, his best friend's younger sibling, and his best friend's younger sibling's best friend.

Word Count: 5.3k

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“We have to wake up early tomorrow; we still have to pick up that Mike kid," you murmured, brushing Argyle's hair gently. He hummed, keeping his head resting against your thigh. The joint from early had been snuffed out long ago as he relaxed into your presence. "We should totally get burritos for breakfast tomorrow," he said, finally opening his eyes to look up at you before looking at Jonathan.

Jonathan looked over and shrugged before looking down at his book again from his laying position.

Argyle's eyes were glazed over, but the smile on his face was still present. You swooped down and placed a kiss on his lips despite the awkward angle. "I'm down, but it's going to be a late breakfast." You had finally finished brushing each section of his hair before braiding it into a loose plait. Once you had placed his purple satin bonnet over his hair, you had officially finished helping him with his nightly routine.

You kissed him on the head and nudged him towards the blow-up mattress beside Jonathan's bed. It wasn't the first time either of you had slept the night at the Byer's house, and it wouldn't be the last. Stretching your arms, you slowly got up and crawled next to Argyle. "Ugh, I don't want to go to work tomorrow," your voice was muffled on Argyle's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled your upper body on top of him.

"Do you work with Karissa?" he asked, rubbing soothing circles on your back. Your body practically melted as his palms touched your exposed skin under your shirt. You kicked a leg over his body and pulled yourself closer.

"God, I hate her. But yes, I have to close with her, sadly." Karissa happened to be your most hated coworker, and the feeling happened to be mutual. For some reason, she felt the need to make everything a competition. At first, you brushed it off, but the chick was relentless.

It was silent between the three of you as you all continued to relax. "Fuck, Karissa." You and Argyle began to giggle at Jonathan's random outburst. He smiled down at both of you before finally reaching over and turning the lamp off. It didn't take long before you all had drifted away to dreamless slumber.

You didn't want to get up as the alarm had blared to life. Jonathan grunted and turned it off, but he didn't attempt to get up. Sometime during the night, your position with Argyle had shifted. He now had his head on your chest and legs entwined with your own.

You were awake, but your eyes closed as your nails trailed up and down Argyle's back. He was still snoring and nowhere close to waking up. The door to Jonathan's room slammed open as Jane and Will came in. "Wake up! We have to go get Mike," Jane said, charging over to the queen-sized mattress. She placed her hands on the soft rubber and began to create ripples with her hands.

You grunted as your body bounced around from the erratic movement. "No, Jane, honey, please. We still have an hour before we have to be at the airport," you groaned. Will followed her lead and began to jump on his brother's bed. Jonathan grunted and pulled him down.

He wrestled with his brother before he gave up and finally sat up. Will's smile only grew as you made eye contact. You gave him a wink and rolled over to face Jane again. She smiled down at you and finally stopped shaking the mattress.

"Please get up?" She gave you her best puppy dog eyes. You only sighed, placing your hand on her face and pushing her slightly. "Stop with the eyes, little sister. 'M getting up," you said, using the nickname she deeply cherished.

The wet sensation on your hand caused you to flinch and move your hand back. "Gross," you mumbled, wiping your hand on the back of Argyle's shirt as he snored. Jane giggled and stood up. "Help me find something to wear?" she asked, holding her hand out.

You sighed, nodded, and promised to meet her in her room once you got Argyle to wake up. He could practically sleep through anything, but you knew the secret to getting him up over the times you have slept together.

"Argyle, wake up, quick! Your Abuela is coming," you hissed in his ear. He flinched awake and looked around with a look of fright. You could hear Jonathan's and Will's muffled laughter as you bit back a smile.

"W-what?" he mumbled, sleep thick in his voice. "Argyle, babe, we gotta get ready to go to the airport." He blinked at you a couple of times before he snuggled his face into the junction of your neck.

"Not cool, man," he groaned. You laughed softly and scratched the back of his neck with your nails bluntly in a silent apology. "We have to get ready to go to the airport, babe." He only groaned but gave a slight nod. His breath tickled the back of your ear as he slowly pulled away.

You gave him a quick kiss, not wanting him to smell your morning breath, even though he had stated repeatedly that he did not care, and got up to start your day.

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Sitting between Jane and Will, you had an arm across each of their shoulders in comfort. Jane attacked her thumbnail with her teeth as Will fiddled with his rolled-up painting. They radiated with nerves as they waited for the boy of the hour to walk through the baggage claim.

"I hope you kids have fun this week and don't worry, I'll try and give you guys some space since you clearly love this Mike kid more than me," you huffed. Will only rolled his eyes and leaned closer to you. Jane tried to protest and explain herself, but your giggles let her know that you were just joking.

It didn't take long before people flooded in from the baggage claim. You stood up with the group but stood in the back with your boyfriend to lean against his tall frame. His arm instantly went around your shoulders as he continued to talk to Jonathan.

"I don't know, man, Blade Runner's theory on how the future looks are way better than Back to the Future. I mean, think about it, dude. With the state of the world right now, no way is it going to be as colorful as it is portrayed in Back to the Future. The eighties are so different from the seventies, so why would it look like it does now?" You listened as Argyle spoke passionately about his theories of the future.

Jonathan froze and took in what he said and nodded in understanding. His eyes were just as glazed over as your boyfriend's, so you doubted he was all there. Rolling your eyes, a smile overtook your face at how deep their conversations could get with just about anything when they were high.

You absentmindedly began to play with a loose string on his colorful button-up shirt while you continued to wait. It didn't take long for the kids to run up to the boy of the hour as he weaved through a throng of people.

You cringed internally from how awkward the interaction between Will and Mike was. Seeing Will go for a hug while his best friend, since kindergarten, just gave him an awkward pat on the arm left a sour taste in your mouth. You felt your lips lower into a frown at the sight of the spark in Will's eyes begin to dim.

You already didn't like this kid.

"That's a rad shirt, man. Ocean Pacific?" The seams of your lips had quickly quirked up briefly as you watched Argyle interact with Mike. His glassy eyes refused to move past the colorful open button-up shirt that hung over Mike's shoulders.

"Oh, hey, Mike. These are my friends." You simply waved politely as Jonathan introduced you and Argyle to the kid. Mike had lifted up his hand for a handshake between you, but Argyle unwrapped himself from your arms and pushed himself into Mike's personal bubble.

You placed a hand over your mouth, and an unattractive snort escaped from your lips. Mike looked uncomfortable as Argyle's hands caged him in.

"Oh, no, no, no. No, it's a shitty knockoff. Yeah. But don't sweat it. I'll give you the good threads out here." The smile on his face was genuine, although he had just dissed Mike unintentionally. There was an awkward pause as everyone looked at each other.

"I heard a lot about your sister." A shriek of laughter finally ripped out of your throat as you buried your face into Argyle's back to muffle the sound. Growing up, you had been told quite a bit that the sound of your laughter could be pretty beastly. You could feel the tears prick the corner of your eyes from how hard you were laughing.

When you finally pulled away, you realized everyone was looking at you. Will, Jane, and Jonathan were already used to your horrid laughter, so they only smiled in amusement, but Mike looked at you strangely. Argyle, however, looked down at you with love and admiration as a dopey smile fell on his lips. Your laughter was one of his favorite sounds, so he always tried to make you laugh.

"S-sorry!" One last giggle escaped from your lips as the group decided to make their way outside the airport. You chose to walk behind the group next to Will, and you could clearly see the rejection in his eyes. You gently rubbed his head in understanding, but he only shrugged wordlessly and held his painting closer.

You had a slight inkling that Will liked Mike more than he let on from how he spoke about the boy, but it wasn't your business to out him in any way. When he was ready, he would come to you. One of your favorite things about Will is that you didn't have to communicate to know what was wrong. You could always sense when he was upset and tried to be there for him.

You casually laid your head on Will's lap in the van as Argyle started driving back to the Byer's residence. It didn't take long for you or Argyle to grow close to the family during your senior year. Argyle had forced his way into Jonathan's life as he did with yours when the two of you were still sophomores.

And through Jonathan, you met his two younger siblings, who you absolutely adored and thought of as your own, seeing as you were the youngest between your own siblings. You would never admit it out loud, but Will was secretly your favorite only by a little bit.

You enjoyed simultaneously listening to the multiple conversations as music blasted through the van's stereo. Sure it was loud, but you preferred it over the quietness of your own home. If you weren't with Argyle, you were with Jonathan and his family.

You listened as the kids made plans while you let Will play with your hair. He was quiet for the most part; even when he ate his favorite breakfast burrito, he mostly just picked apart his food.

"You okay, kid?" you asked as you sat up and watched as Mike and Jane ran inside while Will was again left behind.

"Yeah, I'll be okay," he lied. Biting your lip, you watched his sullen form trek closer to the doors with his shoulders hunched over. He was a shit liar, but you let it be. No use pushing the kid.

"You coming, babe?" Argyle asked. He held his hand towards you, which you took graciously as you hopped out of the van. He continued to hold your hand until you arrived in Jonathan's room. Kicking off your shoes, you waited for Argyle to take a seat on the beanbag chair in the corner of the room before you sat down between his legs.

You gave him a loving peck on the lips before pulling out your art supplies from within your bag. You began to quickly draw everything in front of you with the small, expensive color pencil kit that Argyle bought for your birthday a few months ago. You wanted to attend art school to be a courtroom sketch artist, and your boyfriend wholeheartedly supported the idea.

Hours went by as you continued to talk and sketch in your notepad. The boys smoked a few puffs out the window, not wanting the kids to get a contact high as time drifted by. It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door. You all turned your attention to Jane peeking her head through the door. "No," you groaned and slumped to the floor. The girl only giggled and pushed the door further open.

Mike and Will stood behind her, watching as you rolled around on the scratchy carpet. "I don't wanna go to work today!" Argyle smiled down at you and gave your calf a loving pat before he climbed out of the beanbag chair.

Working at Rink-O-Mania had its pros and cons like every other job, but this job just happened to pay you to do one of your favorite things right after drawing, which happened to be skating. However, dealing with shitty kids and coworkers like Karissa made you loathe it sometimes. But at the end of the day, you would instead serve customers cheap shitty frozen pizza and other unhealthy foods, then work at Surfer Boy Pizza, regardless of Argyle working there.

You loved Argyle but didn't like being understaffed, and making pies for people who couldn't tip worth of shit. He somehow enjoyed it; he was way more patient than you were, even with tasteless customers who sometimes harassed him.

You were snapped back into reality as your arm shot across Will's chest to keep him in his seat from the sudden halt of the van. Argyle was a very high-functioning stoner, but he could still be a careless driver. You let Jane, Will, and Mike out of the van before shutting the door behind you.

You ran to the driver's side and leaned your head through the window. Placing your hand on Argyle's cheek, you gently pulled him closer for a kiss. Your lips meshed together gently as you gave him a few more quick loving pecks and slowly moved away. He had a lovesick look on his face that always made you melt. His eyes slowly drifted away from your lips back to your eyes. Your heart sped up at the sight of wonder that gleamed in his half-lidded brown eyes.

"I'll see you later, Argy," you said, giving him one last kiss on his plump lips, making sure that it lingered for a moment. "Bye, babe," he said, smiling a lazy smile in return.

"Bye, Jonnyboy! I'll keep an eye on the kids, don't worry." You waved as you watched his concerned gaze jump from where his siblings stood and then back to you. He gave you a small smile as you spun on your heel to run over to the kids.

"Now, kids, I want you all to be on your best behavior unless it's Karissa helping you. Make her life hell," you chirped, pulling to door open. Jane and Will only laughed, knowing how much disdain you felt for the woman.

You directed the kids to the counter and had them wait as you went to clock in. You gave them their skates and watched them walk away to go put them on.

Unzipping your hoodie, you threw it under the counter to display your uniform. You wore a tight disgusting yellow polo shirt with the logo on the breast, green and white short shorts, a whistle, and knee-high white socks with yellow and green stripes. Despite the outfit being a decade old, your manager insisted that almost all employees dressed similarly.

You were just about to change your shoes for skates as Mike walked over for a pair of socks, which you gave him for free once you noticed that Karissa wasn't looking.

Work was far from thrilling as you assisted the many teenagers who came in to enjoy the start of their spring break. You would have instead enjoyed your time playing golf with Argyle and Jonathan or even catching a film at the new cinema a few blocks away.

But no. You had to weave in between the sudden arrival of skaters, who insisted on getting in your way. You grew increasingly annoyed that they weren't letting you through as there was a sudden commotion on the rink. You gave the empty tray to your coworker before turning to assess what was going on.

In the middle of the rink, Jane sat looking around, frightened about the number of skaters who began to taunt and skate around her. You could see the glistening tears reflecting off her wet cheeks from where you were standing.

You felt rage bubble up in your chest as almost everyone collectively agreed to bully and taunt the poor girl. You pushed off the counter and quickly skated towards the center of the ring. You brought the whistle to your lips and blew it as hard as possible.

The piercing sound was heard over the music, and a few skaters turned and moved out of your way. You shoved a blonde girl to the side, allowing the continents of her drink to spill all over her front as you stood over Jane.

You gently reached down and helped her stand up. She leaned against you heavily as you brought her off the rink and into the employees-only room.

She continued to sob as you helped her take off her skates. Once the task was done, you brought her to the floor next to you and allowed her to cry into your arms. You gently rubbed up and down her back to get her to calm down.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" you asked. She wiped her cheeks and gave a slight shrug.

"What happened?" She told you everything that had been going on at school, from how they bullied her to how she lied to Mike and to now.

"Oh, sweety. I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell us earlier? We would've helped you! Hell, I would have beat the shit of that little girl if you just asked," you said. She gently laughed as tears still continued to cascade down her cheeks.

"I want to go home now, please," she whimpered as a new wave of tears threatened to spill.

"Let me call Argy, and I'll have him come pick you and the guys up, okay? Just stay right here. I'll be right back," you said as you began to skate away. You looked at her one last time before closing the door behind you.

You quickly skated to the counter and began to ring up Jonathan's home phone. You eyed the little blonde-haired bully bitch named Angela as she complained to her friends about her ruined shirt as they passed by glaring at you.

"Byers' residence, Argyle speaking. How can I help you?" A smile broke out on your face at your boyfriend's drawled-out tone. "Hi baby, I need you to come to pick up the kids. There was an incident at work today," you said.

"Woah, dude, I don't even know you like that. And I'm sorry, but I already have a partner who I love and is super hot, so I think you got the wrong number," Argyle said. You unintentionally let out a loud snort which you tried covering up with a cough at the look Karissa sent you.

"Argyle, baby, it's me. I need you to come to pick up Jane, Will, and Mike at the skating rink," you said, trying to get through to his hazy mind.

"Oh, babe! Hey, what happened?" he asked. Just as you tried to explain what had happened, your eyes widened, seeing Jane marching towards Angela with a skate held in a death grip.

"I can't talk right now, babe, but I need you and Jonathan to get your faded asses down here now!" You hung up, and right as you turned to call out to Jane, it was too late as she clobbered Angela in the face.

The next couple of hours were a bit of a blur with the police and ambulance. Everyone was sent home early since various incident reports had to be filled.

Jane sat emotionless in your arms during the drive home as Argyle and Jonathan failed to make her feel better. She ripped herself away from you as the van pulled to a stop. She charged into the house while Mike called out to her as he stumbled over his feet.

Argyle once again waited for you to climb out of the van before he threw an arm over your shoulder to bring you closer. "Sorry I yelled at you over the phone," you said, remembering how harsh you came off.

"Don't worry about it, dude; I totally understand," he said, dipping down to give you a kiss. You smiled once he pulled away, catching his eye, and he began to smile his lovesick smile back at you. Stepping in the door, you watched in confusion at the mysterious man in front of you.

He greeted all of you with a promise of risotto. You debated on leaving, seeing that dinner would be a shit show, but Argyle directed you towards the nearest bathroom to wash up. You were jealous, as Argyle and Jonathan were both high while you had to suffer in the tense atmosphere while entirely sober.

Sitting between Jonathan and Argyle, you listened as Murray and Joyce explained the coincidence of him being in town as you ate. You didn't believe them. Joyce was a shit liar just like her son.

The risotto was surprisingly delicious so you were more focused on your plate than uncovering the lie. You would be asking for seconds after everyone had finished.

"Can you pass me the olive oil?" Jonathan asked, leaning over to ask either of you for the dressing. "That's wine." You smirked down at your plate, Jonathan was a lightweight, and it was always surprising when Joyce never noticed that he was almost always high as a kite.

"So, do Eskimos, like, still live in igloos, or are they like fully-blown, like, living in the suburbs now?" You gently tapped Argyle's arm, knowing that the question was offensive. You gave Murray an apologetic smile as he studied the both of you.

"Who are they?" He turned to look at Joyce. "We're her adopted children, she's exploiting us for government benefits, but it's alright, she gives us a cardboard box to live in, sometimes," you said, trying to keep a straight face. Argyle looked shocked and turned to look over at Joyce. "Mom?" he asked.

She paused to smile at the both of you knowingly before talking to Jonathan about her trip once again. "Wait? What? What's going on?" he finally looked up from his plate, looking around.

"Your mom is going to Alaska," Argyle said, leaning over you to whisper to Jonathan. "What's going on in Alaska?" Argyle quickly filled him in on each question he asked as Joyce stared at him with confusion.

"Jonathan. What is wrong with you," Joyce asked. "I think I know what's wrong with him," Murray said. You slumped in your seat and kept your head down, not wanting to get in trouble. Jonathan had only started smoking since you and Argyle introduced him to it.

"We just had a super stressful day," Jonathan said, trying to cover his tracks.

"This girl got schmacked in the head at the roller rink," Argyle said. You felt your lips twitch as a laugh threatened to bubble out. The entire situation was bizarre but it was 1000% better than the stuffy dinners with your parents.

"Schmacked?"

"Yeah, it was one of those vicious skate attacks." You winced, seeing that Jane was becoming upset. You squeezed Argyle's leg to get him to stop talking, but he didn't get the hint in his hazy state of mind.

Jonathan and Argyle only tried to improve the situation, but it was futile. "Was the skate made out of rubber, babe?" Argyle asked as you attempted to take a sip of water. You choked and nodded, not expecting him to bring you into the conversation. You felt Argyle rub your back as your breathing went back to normal.

"Anyways, she looked like she was going to be fine," Argyle said, while Jonathan backed up his statement.

"She didn't look fine," Mike said, poking around his salad. That must've been the breaking point for Jane as she stood up and stormed away. "El, aren't you going to finish your–" Joyce attempted to get her to sit back down, but she had already walked away.

"Wow, Mike. Nice. You're a real Romeo, you know that?" Sarcasm dripped from your lips as he looked up at you in shock. But you only glared at him and got up to chase Jane down. ‘God that kid is something else,’ you thought to yourself as you climbed up the stairs to Jane’s room.

"Hey, little sister, it's me. I just wanted to check up on you.” You didn't have to wait long for her to open the door since you were the only one who called her that.

Once, she deemed that you were alone, she opened the door and beckoned you in. Once you took a few steps away from the door, she closed and locked it. You brought in her sullen appearance as she had her arms crossed in a way to comfort herself. You opened your arms for a hug but allowed her to decide if she wanted it.

Her bottom lip buckled before she walked into your arms and lay there. She didn't cry or talk, but occasionally a sniffle would slip out.

"You know, I am so fucking proud that you stood up for yourself today. That was such a badass move that you pulled today, and if I hadn't been working, I would have gladly helped you jump that bitch," you said, pulling away slightly so that she could see your expression.

She looked shocked as you continued to praise her for her brave actions. A smile finally broke onto her face before she let out a loud laugh from how silly you looked as you pretended to fight the air as if it were Angela.

"You don't think I'm a monster?" she asked after her laughing fit. "You? A monster? Nah, you're too cute," you said, holding her face in your hands. "Fuck, Angela and her rag-tag group. They're just a bunch of bullies, but you, Jane Hopper, are extraordinary, so they're just jealous."

You sat around Jane for an hour before she wanted to shower and go to bed early. You gave the girl one last hug and promised a horror movie marathon later that week before you made it back to the living room/dining room.

Your plate was missing, which made you sad; however, Joyce walked over to you and placed a Tupperware in your hands. You looked at her with confusion before cracking it open and seeing your leftovers plus more. You gasped and closed the container once again.

"Mama Joyce, I love you. And I hope you continue to exploit Argyle and me," you joked, leaning in for a hug. She scoffed at your joke but wrapped her arms around you anyways. "Take care of everyone while I'm gone, please?" she asked, pulling away from the hug to look you in the eyes. You smiled lightly, seeing the worry in her eyes.

"I promise." She smiled and gave you one last hug before returning to her room. "Hey, ma?" She turned around to look at you once you called out to her. "Give my compliments to the chef? This risotto is to die for." She laughed and gave a nod. You smiled as she disappeared around the corner and headed towards Jonathan's room.

Argyle was once again opening the door in his favorite spot as Jonathan sat and flipped through a comic book. Argyle smiled at the sight of you. His smile continued to grow as he looked up at you lazily, watching your walk over to him.

You gently tucked a loose flyaway strand of hair behind his ear as you leaned in for a kiss. The kiss was tender as your lips moved in sync only months of practice could achieve. You gave his plump bottom lip a nip before standing up again. You giggled as he tried chasing your lips with his own.

Rolling your eyes, you faced Jonathan after he groaned in disgust. "Shut up. You know if Nancy was here, you'd be all over her," you said, standing up. You grabbed your bag tucked in the corner and replaced your sketchbook with your leftovers.

"Would not," he mumbled out. He had a faraway look in his eyes at the thought of the girl. After weeks of mulling over flying out to see her and trying to gain the courage to tell her that he wasn't accepted to her dream school, he was in a constant battle within his head.

You sighed and began to sign and date your picture from earlier. Walking closer to your friend, you placed your drawing on his face. "Stop moping around, Byers. You decided not to go, so live up to it," you said, looking down at him. His face scrunched up as he took the drawing and rolled over, so his back was facing you.

"S'not that easy," he mumbled as he appreciated your drawing.

"C'mon, babe, don't be like that. What if that was us?" Argyle asked. You opened your mouth to deny ever being in a situation like that but decided against ruining their high with a useless argument.

"Look, I'm sorry, Jonathan. I don't know what you're going through, but I also have a feeling that Nacy doesn't as well. It might be in your best interest to call her, and hell, I don't know, tell her that she's hot or whatever," you encouraged. The corner of his lips curled up, seeing that you were finally getting to him.

"Maybe you're right," he said slowly, sitting up as he continued to look at the detailed drawing.

"Of course I am. I'm the one who uses the one collective brain cell between the three of us." You poked the back of his head teasingly. Your boyfriend only laughed as he checked the time. He stood up and grabbed your bag before walking towards you.

"I– 'll call her tomorrow," Jonathan said, finally looking up. "It's getting late, and she's probably sleeping."

"Oof, we should probably head out, don't want to overstay our welcome," Argyle said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You scoffed, you had overstayed your welcome months ago, and now the Byer–Hopper family was now stuck with both of you.

Argyle looked down at his best friend and gave him a pat on the arm in encouragement. "Good luck with your phone call tomorrow, man," he said, leading you out of the room. You waved and closed the door behind you.

"So, my house or yours?" you asked, turning to see the content smile on your boyfriend's face once you sat in his van.

"I'm fine with whatever; as long as we get to be together, I don't care," he said. During your time of knowing Argyle, you quickly noticed that he didn't realize that he was a real-life casanova without trying.

#argyle x reader #argyle x you #stranger things x reader #argyle stranger things #stranger thing s4

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grim-faux · 3 years

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The Etiquette of Survival

This is the first four chapters of the book I’m working on. The book as a whole needs editing, but I’m searching for the write publisher company to query for submissions. These chapters would be the ambassador for the work I want to publish, but they need the most work at this point. Particularly chapter 03, which I’m not found of as material in later chapters has changed.

Salt and Feathers

Genre: grim dark

word count: 16,040

A Forensic Coroner is dragged into a world of political and supernatural elements, upon perceiving inconsistencies surrounding an influx of John and Jane Doe cadavers. Allegra Terrel must rely on the compliance of an inhuman supporter, and the deadly commissions he is assigned. If she hopes to achieve some semblance of normality, or survive at all, she must keep allies close and enemies closer.

01. A Cold Slab

The noxious scent of formaldehyde coiled around the lumpy white coat, saturating anything and everything porous. It wasn’t a bad scent but it was off-putting, particularly after a few days without a full on shower and grinding off the layers of perspiration buildup. It wasn’t a disposition the staff devoted itself to; after the first few dozen bodies came through, people stopped caring about their appearance. The few exceptions in the scenario being meetings and the sort.

The only reasonably slow period was the graveyard shift; the few hours that medical could catch up on the backlog of paperwork. The department sat square center of a large metropolitan, and there was no time of day when bodies weren’t being found or resurfaced by unsuspecting civilians. The winter months helped slow the inflow, though the dead didn’t roam.

Allegra Terrel stepped off the elevators and officially began her shift. Traffic in the corridor shuffled at a tame trickle, some of the doors propped open and lazy conversation drifted through. Allegra nursed the chilled mug she carried; it was piping hot when she left home that evening. She took a corner and followed the hall past doors with nameplates. Only inventory had private rooms and locks.

“Good evenin’, Harv-o,” she announced, upon entering through a set of doors. “Any word of the Rendell case?” She gave a courteous tilt of the mug towards the burley officer stationed by a howling microwave.

At the sink and scrubbing out a weathered metal coffee pot, stood her square shouldered and delicate handed partner, Harvey. Without missing a beat, he swiped down a towel and dried off the pot. “Toxicology still hasn’t come back yet. We might need to send in a few more tissue samples – they’re sure there are anomalies in the blood work, but nothing conclusive. He could have eaten too much sesame or something.”

“That goes on the file, but doesn’t do much else,” Allegra mentioned. It had more to do with the agents assigned to the case than anything; investigators would know the details and plausible motives.

It was the usual small talk in the lounge. Going over incoming and outgoing ‘patients’, same as the way accountants ran over the details of clients ruffled by imbalanced assets. A swing by the lounge was a usual certification to pick up partners or get directions to his or her whereabouts. Only veterans dared pick up a quick bite before diving into the work that didn’t involve filing papers.

“I hope those aren’t my burritos in that nuke box.” A stout man ducked in from the door and raced across the room. He snapped the refrigerator open and cursed.

“Evening Chuck.” Allegra caught the single serve box of cereal tossed by Harvey. She turned to the officer. “Theft is reserved among staff of the department. You know better.”

“Well,” the cop began. The microwave buzzed. With a napkin in hand, he took out a small bowl. “There’s a guy on third floor selling the contraband. So technically, not theft.”

“Uh-oh.” Allegra nudged Chuck aside. “Scalping overworked laborers with delicacies. How far has mankind fallen?”

Though Homicide Studies was stationed above Victims Files, along with the records for the living members of the deceased; no one had any particular like for the Third Floor, above autopsy. Chuck was one of the few brave enough to march up there and demand answers, or compensation.

“What’s the name of your provider?” Chuck turned on the cop. “I am done with this bullshit.”

“Don’t get physical,” Harvey warned. He stood, staring daggers into the coffee pot situated on the heating plate. The warm scent filled the office. “He or she will spread unflattering rumors, and then you’ll be sorry.”

The cop hesitantly gave a name to Chuck, and the man burst from the room. Harvey looked up in the wake of the departure. “Dang. I had some files he needed to run up.”

“I’m sure he’ll survive.” Allegra munched at the soggy cereal, politely waiting for Harvey to get his cup of black fuel warmed to perfection. She dumped her cold swill and went for the fresh. Harvey poured for her. “What does the roster look like?”

Harvey shrugged. “We have a body came in from a jobsite, construction. And another of those bodies way past expiration – Marx wants a detailed report on that.”

“He’s taken an interest in those?” Allegra added sugar and stirred. She finished off her cereal and milk, and peered at Harvey. “He didn’t say it’s in connection with suspected serial murders?” The cop cleared his throat.

“You’re wondering about the bodies coming in?” he posed. “A lot of Johns and Janes?”

“Yeah,” Harvey answered, through a sip. “One or two bodies found in the advance stages of decay, not that unusual. But the cadaver boys, I was browsing their files and the inferences they were making… it was kind of creepy.”

Allegra tossed the empty cereal carton and washed her hands. “I’ll go ahead and get set up. I expect a lot of condensing from you.”

“You know it,” Harvey quipped.

Beneath Third Floor awaited Autopsy and Forensic Investigation, where bodies first went for cataloguing. The Homicide Department worked in stages, the dead didn’t complain so long as they were looked after in a reasonable time; some bodies took precedent over others due to suspected chemical components and cell termination. The deceased reserved their right to silence, regardless how painful or vivid their final moments were. Unlike a spiritual medium whom communicated with the spiritual consciousness of the departed, the homicide investigators took on more scientifically approved means to translate those final moments. Sometimes clarifying if the death was an unfortunate accident or the rampaging emotions, could take until the time the deceased was ‘taken home’ as it were, by the next of kin. From there, the body would be made ready for presentation and the final closure of loss.

Stainless steel tables lined the glistening tile walls of the room; everything sparkled or shimmered in the fluorescent lights. The room was chilled to the point if the humidity was at an adequate level, the present warm bodies could’ve viewed their breath. The room reserved the calm passive of a library, but the sounds were not of flipping pages, the squeal of saws and crack of tools chirped off. At the far end of the room the soft conversations exchanged between autopsy directors and overseeing detectives; the few occupied tables kept undivided attention to their work, and soft murmurs swirled around death and causes.

Allegra chauffeured a metal trolley to and from the assigned autopsy table, collecting the anticipated supplies and assembling her apparel. She attached the audio recording to her pocket and ran the wire to her ear, then, went to the employees shared closet and collected her slciker suit.

Harvey slipped in as she was leaving. He handed over a clipboard. “I brought the body up.”

“What about the cop?”

Harvey was already pulling out his suit and pulling the boots on. “He didn’t have much to say – more about the location where the bodies were discovered. Oh! They did confirm inconsistencies in the extraction point, and the retrieved remains. We talked about that?”

“Yeah.”

“Remains were not fully retrieved. It’s bizarre.” Harvey zipped up and followed Allegra back to the table, and the black bag waiting for them. He pulled on his respirator.

Allegra mirrored the action, and adjusted her hair bun between the straps. She read off a date and serial code from the page of the clipboard.

“Klein, Harvey and Terrell, Allegra. About to begin preliminary examination of John-Doe-102.” Allegra glanced back at the table behind her, as a new group of investigators rolled up a gurney. “Estimated time of death mid-summer, the body is in moderate stage of decay.”

Harvey slipped on gloves, and moved the portable table over to the counter connected to the wall. Meanwhile, Allegra took the base of the black bag and unzipped. Harvey departed for a few seconds, when he returned it was with a camera. The bag was fully open, and Harvey began snapping photographs – he took each stark white card and set it aside. Through the vaporous sounds of snaps, Allegra read off the standard physical descriptions of the cadaver; from skin tone and variation, to an estimated age. For the time, he was a John Doe. An unknown civilian, no identification, no ties. No one to offer a name or past.

“Cause of death estimated to be exsanguination and trauma to the heart – the sternum is obliterated – noteworthy damage is visible to the thoracic region of the spinal column, the vertebra exposed.”

The clothing – a pair of tattered pants – was already removed by the forensic team and labeled. Allegra described features of the face, and took out containers for the tissue samples. It was a tedious task of getting the tubes and inserting the arterial needle, and massaging blood samples out of the body.

Harvey finished taking pictures, and began jotting down notes on a fresh page pinned to the clipboard. He examined fingers and checked hair. He frowned.

“What?” Allegra didn’t look up.

“Nothing,” Harvey mumbled. “Mm. Late summer? We didn’t have a lot of cold-cold days.”

“True.”

The initial work on incoming cadavers took roughly forty-five to an hour and a half, depending on the state of death. That didn’t include cleanup and cataloging supplies, or sending samples to toxicology. Beginning at one in the morning, it was drawing near pre-morning by the time Allegra and Harvey had cataloged three bodies. They were finishing work on a women submitted as a potential homicide, and were debating on quitting – Harvey could drive his wife to work if he hurried.

A thump came from the table that the second group of detectives worked at. Allegra glanced up; caught Harvey’s line of sight and spun around. She clicked off the audio recorder. The other team of investigators flashed eyes to Harvey and Allegra, and to each other – it was two men and a women intern, she was taking personal notes.

“What ran him over?” Allegra posed.

“A chunk of rebar.” The lean guy, Tom, mentioned. He tapped the end of his pen to the gore soaked piece of metal protruding from the backside. “There’s also blood on the scalp, but this body is a mess.”

“I’m not sure if we should advance with the autopsy.” The other man, Otto, added. “The atrophy wasn’t caught – it looks like this guy, with this stage of muscle regression – he was withheld from food. He was locked up someplace.”

Allegra crossed her arms and leaned back. She checked a clock mounted on the wall. “But a struggle was evident in the body? Due to the head wound, and physical scarring.” She pointed out blotches down the spine and shoulders.

“Yeah,” Otto piped. “Are you done for the evening?”

Harvey yawned. “Were we? I guess?” He moved around the table and stood beside Allegra. His eyes tracked the body. With a gloved finger, he prodded the ribs. “This looks like some form of anoxia – water departs the cell through osmosis. But the surface epidermis doesn’t display tissue damage through malnutrition. Bizarre.”

“Yet, the skin is supple, if not succumbing to usual rigor mortis,” Allegra noted. She raised the thin arm and, with some effort, moved the wrist. “Good luck with this, kids.”

Tom laughed. “Thanks. Katelyn? Can you hand me the branch cutter?” The intern, Katelyn, reached to the counter and handed over the gleaming gardening tool.

“I want to call Remus on this,” Otto mentioned. “Is that cool?”

“Cool,” Tom replied, between crack-crack, and a Crunch.

Allegra finished filling out the page on the clipboard, and without looking up, said, “The chest was punched through with that rebar. It reminded me of the collapsed ribcage of John-Doe one… o’two. That’s the one.”

“The heart was practically removed,” Harvey added. He left for a short span of time, and when he returned it was with the temporary plastic cover for storage. “I’m sure it was in there somewhere. Melted.”

“Ha.” Allegra folded up the woman’s legs, and Harvey folded the bag down.

On return, Otto announced, “Remus said hold off on removing the rebar.

“Oops,” Tom pouted. “A reason for making storage difficult?”

“No. He wants to put the body away for now, and he’ll assign some ‘specialist’ to take a look at it. It might be related to an ongoing case.” Otto moved around the table. To Allegra and Harvey, he inquired, “You need a box?”

“That would be super, thanks,” Harvey said. He worked with Allegra manipulating the woman’s body the remainder of the way into the bag. “We’ll need to sign on that jewelry. Thank you, my man.” He took the box from Otto and sorted away clothing and personal possessions.

The two relocated the body to a gurney, and finished packing up and sterilizing equipment, the table included. A finalized form for what equipment was used and where, was filled out. Once all items were accounted for and protective suits stripped off, Allegra pushed the gurney towards the double doors. Harvey hurried ahead and moved the doors. It was a lull in the department; graveyard shift was on the change and a fraction of the department would cycle out with a fresh group.

The corridor was quiet, most offices locked tight and the slit beneath the door in shadow. Allegra and Harvey made light talk on the way to the industrial lift.

“I can take samples to toxicology,” she offered. “Jezebel will be getting off in an hour, huh?”

“Unless they wrangle her into overtime. Lord forbid if the head of department misses yoga.” He looked back up the hall. “I wonder if it’s something serious.”

“Hmm?” Allegra pulled the lift in, while Harvey pushed. “You mean Remus? Guy’s cryptic.”

Not every homicide submitted for investigation was given equal treatment. Many of the John and Jane Does that passed through, but never found their kinship, usually did pass due to natural causes – exposure, old age, or neglected illness. These unclaimed bodies went to incineration, and cases that were proven homicide were not always extensively investigated into, unless MO patterns appeared in frequency. Most common in the ring of shady cover ups, bodies were incinerated and the physical evidence remaining in storage, would gradually deplete until the deceased became a distant memory. A temporary and forgotten log in the department’s guest book.

The elevator chimed and the wide doors wheezed open. The basement extended before them; air stale and musty, the floor a flat slate of cracked cement, painted and repainted over the years. A distinct and worn path evident through the colorful layers, led past a doorway and toward a fence left ajar down a short corridor.

Allegra pushed the gurney, and Harvey guided the front out.

A uniformed man stepped out from the side doorway, clipboard in hand. He gave his wristwatch a check before passing the clipboard over. “Five thirty-four. This your first or last?”

“Last,” Allegra answered. And signed her name.

They pushed the body through the narrow corridor, among cinderblock barriers and chain fences, and mazes of heavy shelves stuffed with lonely boxes – the last effects of the departed. On passing a neglected chalkboard, Harvey took a marker and wrote ‘Ericka Liam’ on the cardboard box.

“Do you plan to do a few more hours?” Harvey posed. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and opened one of the fenced off passages. “I can do a coffee run, and get you a warm something.”

“I don’t know yet.” Allegra pushed the gurney to the corridor end and waited. The freezer section was where the worn path led; rows and columns of stainless steel portals. Around the wall would be another section of cold doors, and beyond another corner, more doors yet. A mortuary of chilled nudists . She trembled; now out of the waterproofing suit she felt the chill of the old building. “Y’know, I won’t keep you. I’ll review my files and call it.” She maneuvered the gurney toward one of the column doors and opened the freezer. Harvey was busy filling out a notecard.

It surprised Allegra when the trio from the neighboring table entered, with the gurney and cadaver. Well, Otto and Katelyn at least, which explained their abrupt appearance.

“Doors with a card are occupied. Usually,” Otto rambled off.

“You should have told Remus how big that rebar was,” Allegra mentioned. She opened a door and pulled the slab out. Harvey assisted with raising the body to the sliding table; Eircka Liam was a depressingly thin woman. “Looking at them now, I don’t think it would have fit.”

“Maybe we could have ‘Weekend at Berney’s’ it,” Otto huffed. “You shouldn’t have any trouble lifting this body, right? Hey? You okay, Katelyn?”

Katelyn was staring at their plastic covering, suspicion in her eyes. Nonetheless, she nodded.

Harvey shoved the slab into the freezer and shut the door. “Should I?” Katelyn backed away, and Harvey moved forward. Katelyn kept her eyes on the body, and followed its transfer to the slab. She jarred when Allegra touched her elbow.

“You okay?” Allegra murmured. “Not cold feet.”

“No. It’s nothing.” Katelyn shook her head. “The skin felt weird.”

“Well, yeah,” Allegra answered, helplessly. The chilled slab clacked into the depths of the freezer and locked; the door hissed shut, and the room felt just a smidgen warmer.

From within the narrow freezer Harvey’s voice lifted, but muffled, “Are you sure I can’t get you something?” The words exchanged faded, dwindling as the group departed; the rattle of the gurneys turn soft and somber.

“Food or beverage?” Otto chimed in.

“Both. It depends,” Harvey offered. “But only if Allegra sends me forth. Chances are Jezzy’s going to send me off to do the same for her.”

“Allegra….” Otto whined.

Within the cramped space of the dark freeze, low humming trilled louder in the absence of trivial chat. The slab and its bag remain still, precise as that of a coffin buried deep within cold soil, impervious to the spiraling wind of time. Minutes evaporated, binding into hours.

Frail shuffling, and scratching. A timid twitch – at the knuckles of the cadaver. The fingers scuffed at the interior of the bag, but relax. A moment of calm uncertainty pressed in.

A guttural moan belched from the body as it buckled, knocking within the impassive walls of its tomb. The cadaver riled minutely and shuffled sideways; it pawed blindly at the pliant material of the sack. Quaking, but not in sporadic convulsions; the body curled up to the best of its ability – arms tucked close to its torso – and lay. Ribs expand tentatively; slow, careful breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Long, drawn out, deep breaths.

The sticky plastic slithered over its shoulders as it continued trembling in the dark.

02. The Walls Wept Wetly

Paperwork was never ending, and required the bulk of time and attention. There was organizing the cataloged information from the endless string of cadavers, and inputting the fine details – regardless how minute – as accurately as could be managed within time constraints. Coordinating meetings with detectives on tight schedules was also a priority, and signing out the bodies for reevaluation and study; a lot of back and forth and cross referencing with forensic specialists out in the field.

Cadavers needed strict one-on-one, like coma patients awaiting the hour of awakening. They relied on a chemical roster to maintain flesh and microbe levels, or risk losing valuable evidence. What went into the bodies was documented, and the alterations in the bodies microbial chemistry was carefully monitored. Despite refrigeration, the bodies did suffer some amount of degradation that could not be prevented.

At least they never complained.

Allegra’s shift began at twelve midnight, and would roll into five AM, sometimes later depending on the time of year and the steady tip of populace sanity. Schedules were subject to change depending on the skills investigative teams held for forensics, and a body would be reserved. Much like the body Tom and Otto encountered.

The commune office was segregated by ordinary, some of the walls were original and mounted oak with windows. In total there were nine individual desks, with three occupied and low lights peeling back the soft gloom; papers shuffled, faint music played somewhere.

It was a strict paperwork day for Allegra. Check and certify the cadavers in her and Harvey’s care were ‘stable’, with no unforeseen anomalies in the surface epidermis. Harvey broke from his shift temporarily, which left Allegra on her own in the meantime and make headway on a mountain of paperwork.

“Allegra,” Chuck spoke, in greeting. He darted into the shared cubicle space (Harvey had the desk behind her), folder in hand. “You haven’t by any chance seen where Hudson ducked off to?” Chuck dropped off a file and kept going.

Allegra pushed her chair out from the desk and rubbed the screen glare from her eyes. It was about time for a break. “I saw him the day before?” Chuck came back by, and gave her a short look; he went to Harvey’s desk and began rummaging through stacks of files, muttering dates and months.

An unexpected surge of warm days thawed out some of the city zones, and in effect brought attention to bodies that were missed across the city. It was a common issue – people go missing, bodies thaw out, people follow the stank out of morbid curiosity. Some people in the department placed bets based around local weather predictions; it was a banned trade, so of course the higher-ups didn’t care.

“Someone on Third was certain he was resting in the second floor lounge,” Chuck added. “We haven’t had much luck raising him over comm.” He turned his attention to Harvey’s computer and punched in the passcode.

“How long has he been off radar?” Allegra checked her wristwatch. “He didn’t run an errand home?”

“I think he’s reliable about giving word before taking off.” Chuck navigated the mouse on the screen; across the room, the printer wheezed to life. “How’d the autopsy of Lingui go?”

“Standard enough.” Allegra tossed another folder onto Harvey’s desk; which Chuck plucked up. “Sent blood to the labs and waiting for confirmation. It looks like he overdosed before drowning, but as far as any other details, I believe it’s the police’s business. It doesn’t look like foul play.”

Allegra hated ODs; it was a pain to throw them through the system, and even if they panned out there was still the uncertainty. Bad emotions within friends and family made framing carelessly as a likely culprit, and too often investigators were good with that; a common story, which didn’t always end if the body was laid to rest. A couple of months back, the department had to get clearance to exhume a body in the middle of summer, and check if it matched another homicide with similar criteria to the victims untimely death. In short, she never felt certain that open and shut cases would stay that straight forward.

“Leave his files open,” Allegra said, as Chuck moved aside. “I need to cross check notes. You take care.”

With a farewell, Chuck was gone.

The hours blazed by, as Allegra tackled the grueling task of tedious cross checking notes and summarizing the key details. It wasn’t as bad as it was initially when she was still interning; getting the gist of the trade. She plodded through cases that she had confirmed information compiled, and steadily moved through the documentation of ambiguous cases – muggings gone wrong, crimes of passion, and more. Harvey returned at length and they shared a late-early-dinner-breakfast-brunch, and he forced Allegra to have some proper food for once. While eating, he shared word that Remus was still focused on the other side of town with another incident.

“Hopefully it has nothing to do with Tom’s absence,” Harvey hummed, while chewing crispy fish. “That was two days ago – he called in, but there was no return or update.”

Allegra finished cleaning up her desk, and dumping the rubbish into the bin beneath her desk. “That’s odd. Chuck came through asking if anyone’s seen a Hudson. I wanted to tell him I don’t know the guy.”

“I know him. He’ll sometimes take a mid-shift nap down on the second floor.” Harvey scrolled with his mouse, and without looking back, “Chuck needs to shut these files when he’s done. And not rename half of them.”

Around three Harvey left to pick up his wife, and from there Allegra held down the fort. The homicide department never ceased momentum, but held its lull at predawn when people should be put away, rather than stumbling upon discarded victims of capitol crime. In the hour following Harvey’s departure, Allegra pushed through two more reports and called her shift solid.

On her way out of the commune office, she brushed by Chuck. The other man almost ran into her; Allegra had to shove her work duffle aside to let him by.

“Did you find Hudson?” Allegra managed, before Chuck got away.

“Uh-huh. He’s okay.” Chuck held a far seeking expression in his eyes, similar to distraction and preoccupation. He opened his mouth to go on, but cut off and turned away. “I’ll see you.”

“Take it easy,” Allegra insisted. Chuck's curt breakaway didn't set well with her. She lingered, watching his retreating back, before withdrawing herself.

The corridor was lined with windows and occasionally a set of large doors, some open, with the same scene – cubicles, faint light, and subdued conversation. There was a corner, and then past a few more large doors and smaller offices; many shut up and dark. No matter where you went in the building, the scent of surgical plastic, formaldehyde, and alcohol was prevalent. Some offices, like Remus, used a healthy dose of incense and other fragrant aromas to counteract the subtle linger.

Allegra made it to the corridors end and punched the lift button. It was when she climbed inside and hit the first floor, she heard it. A faint whimper. But not a whimper—

She stuck her hand out knocked back the shutting doors. Allegra listened, eyes flashing to the hall extending to either side. One direction led to doors and a dead end, and the other way was much the same, but also the large industrial lift used to transport cadavers. The sound was akin to whining now; somber retching and choking.

Was that a child?

It was eerie, and Allegra’s mind conjured up all the stories she heard back when she was interning; none of which rendered evidence of being true, aside from insistence that they were genuine first-hand account. Stories about the department being haunted, and employees hearing strange noises in the lull hours. Predawn.

Allegra checked her watch. The hair on her neck stood and prickled. She knew she was hearing that, and it didn’t sound right.

But she was curious too. She stepped from the lift and set her duffle bag of folders down. Which direction was it? She cupped a hand behind her ear and turned right, then left. Definitely coming from the direction of the second lift. Allegra left her duffle and crept down the corridor, passing empty rooms and the entrance to another corridor. It was odd, as she navigated down the hall, she thought the sob was fading.

She stopped and waited, ears attuned to the direction of the echo. It wasn’t getting fainter, but it did pickup in pitch. That sounded like an infant.

The creepy meter hiked up a few decibels. Allegra debated turning back, whatever this was it didn’t feel normal. But the logical side of her mind insisted this was a couple of interns, or veterans trying to spook interns.

At a bend in the corridor, she came across one of the regulars – she didn’t know his name – but he wore a blatant expression of puzzlement and discomfort. Allegra waved him down, and whispered, “Do you hear that?”

The man nodded, relief flooding his eyes. “I thought I was the only one. It’s creepy – the room I came from, no one seemed to hear it. I popped out to see if I could find it, and get a refill.” He waved a large plastic mug. “I think it’s coming from this way.”

“I’ll keep moving down this way. In case. I’ll try and find you if I see anything.” Allegra tried not to smile as she left the man. Maybe it was a prank, and the room he came from was leading him on. That didn’t explain why she heard it all the way from the elevator.

Rumors among spooky stories were not favored among the senior members of the department, though they weren’t barred entirely. People couldn’t help stand in the break room exchanging one baffling tale for another, while warming poorly concocted meals in the few available microwave boxes. Through, the week as of late was a heated debate on the strange incidents the graveyard shift was subject to. It brought her back to Tom, not making an appearance at work and none of his team able to connect with him.

She knew someone mentioned something about singing, though she hadn’t been witness to her own experience. Sterinert with toxicology was a no nonsense bore and skeptic to any sneeze of mystic hogwash, but he wasn’t above admitting when an encounter with a shred of unexplained stumbled his way. His character wasn’t enamored by ghost stories, despite his practice to keep familiar with witness testimonies, and he did have something to say about the serenade.

The usual argument got tossed about that the homicide department was cause for haunts, given that more than the bulk of residents were among the dead. If a death was traumatic the spirit couldn’t rest, which encouraged the talk. But this talk was disputed by free-range detectives who delved into every article of fact or fiction – fact being stranger than fiction – and insisted passionately that spirits gave not one two cents about their bodies, and only lingered at a site where violence encured. Rarely were cemeteries reported haunted, the topic proven time and time again by paranormal specialists; houses, homes, and unassuming locations became the locations of unfathomable mystery. Unassuming places hid terrible secrets and refused beyond realm of reason to let those secrets lie undisturbed. A fact of life that with enough digging and enough scientific application, the clandestine would shed its mask and reveal the truth of its character. Even Sterinert acknowledged that more often than not, what was believed to be undeniable truth hitting the brain could be a trick of the mind.

Wires and electrical apparatus not properly insulated could induce paranoia, and various gases in small doses stirred vivid hallucinations indecipherable from actuality. The homicide department was ancient, and though some remote locations had undergone minor renovation work the overall complex remained outdated save for the technology ported in. By the power of suggestion and long-long hours, it was feasible to rationalize she and the regular succumbed to subconscious prompting.

She stood at the entrance of a corridor, trying a new tactic by covering one ear and tilting her head. For added effort, she shut her eyes and focused on the direction. It wasn’t coming from her level or the pathways coursed through, the weep rippled from an overhead vent.

Once assimilating that knowledge, she navigated the corridors seeking the gaping vents which projected the clearest resonance. This benefited her in no shape or way, since soon after the realization the shrill cut off. Abruptly and completely. She was certain to not have stumbled out of range, she crossed to and fro searching to relocate the sounds but failed..

It was time to go and that was final. Where was her duffel bag?

With footwork weaving within delicate – and invisible – a fog threads, she craft fully directed her poise back unto the route that delivered her. There was actually a shortcut through a hall that curved into the next bend, through a passive and partially ignored section of the departments equipment stores, where rooms sat neglected; trolleys loaded with spare computer terminals and other equipment huddled along the walls.

At one point she thought the cries of the infant began once more, wheezing rasps and squeaks – it was a trial to hear over the heave of the heating unit. The musty air was a welcome distraction, despite how grief-stricken the wail came. She picked up the pace, nearly stumbling onto the shape huddled in a bleary doorway. It sent a jolt straight through her heart.

“Jeesus!” She glared, vision swirling

A mass of cloth rumpled and wadded lay partially in the path, yet as she peered down on the offensive scrubs in the low light she was uncertain, but it appeared to shroud a definite mass. Unorganized clusters of boxes obscured her view of the opened entry, and for whatever reason she was on high alert. Not that the heap was outward threatening, but the doors in this corridor stayed locked, no exceptions.

It took some mental coaxing before she would creep closer, her limited vision prying at the gloom. She maxed her senses to their limits aching for a scuttle, or creak upon the prehistoric tile. Slanting far over the precarious juxtapose of ratty cloth, one hand groped within the portal for the anticipated switch. A burst of radiance sent her recoiling, and caused her to nearly vault backwards into a wall. Her poise was managed with dignity, allowing her the grace to give the inner room a scant examination.

Globs of dust hung beneath the malformed light bar, descending from the ceiling boxes and discarded desk stood stacked wall-to-wall, among other miscellaneous junk rejected by upgrades. But no indication of space or shadow that anyone or anything could hide in, she scarcely imagined a pigeon would call this a home.

The door to this room. It was shut when she first made a pass through the hallway. That, she was certain of. Only a handful of staff had spare keys to the rooms.

She bowed down and took a fold of the cloth. The texture was scratchy and cheap, but luxurious to depleted residents of the department. One of the sheets from the lounge, third floor. It was far from home without a friend—

The sheet felt warm, unnaturally so, with tinges of heat still radiating. A person… couldn’t be under this. No, it was not large enough, and not the right shape. But if felt warm.

Without hesitation she tore the sheet back and gawked.

Nothing was beneath. Not a hair, nor a thought. She stooped and patted the floor, her coroner instincts kicking into gear and searching for thermal evidence. The faux tile was cool against her skin and contrasted the vibrant sensation of the cloth still clutched in her hand. She flopped the sheet to her knees and prodded the fibers.

Something clinked beside her knee. It took some searching, but she located the piece. The screw was still sweeping in odd little loops on the floor, scared out of hiding. She took up the minuscule hardware—

Pain sizzled through her spine and brain, dazzling the black space behind her eyes with vibrant pops. Irregular sensations vibrated through the scattered grasp of awareness, and all at once she felt herself propelled deep into the subconscious parts of the brain reserved for absolute oblivion. She drowned in the tart scent of blood, and something else.

Fragmented stabs of light pulsed across the black abyss of null. She winced and twisted away, her body caught up in tight, constraining texture. She lacked the energy to urge an movement from her limbs; she was heavy and buried under the fabric. All the bits and unaccounted pieces of her skin, muscle, and tendons ached like nothing definable. More accurately, her head hummed with each throb of her heartbeat. She dreamed about the black body bags that the cadavers lay in. The stiff, sleek material that barred off bruising, punctures, and kept the things inside from spilling loose. She threw out an arm and connected with a hard surface. Instant regret flooded her brain.

She roused again. Sensed some amount of time passed; her environment was changed. She uncoiled slowly, allowing the twisting in her spine to shift accordingly in her body as she moved. The scent was familiar. Home. Her bed, her sheets, her pillows. She made it home. That was a plus.

Her bedroom was dim. Through the blind’s gaps flittered a shallow gray sheen, and birds tweed and called in high pitch shrills. Allegra struggled her focus at her immediate surroundings, her vanity desk, and the dresser on the wall opposite to her door. The bedroom door was shut. She flung her arm over to the nightstand, and blinked at the acidic light of the digital alarm. Seven-thirty-nine. PM. When did she get in? She’d been out for hours.

Moving out of bed was a grueling challenge. She slipped her legs over the bedside and sat, hunched over like a senior with chronic depression and scoliosis. She just couldn’t drag an ounce of energy back into her muscles; she was drained. She almost couldn’t stand. As she staggered to the door, she patted down her day-before-clothing. No keys.

She lived in a charming little neighborhood, the bulk of its residence occupied by new families and singles; people that could afford a decent little economical home. A zone of strict no drama and no excitement what so ever. Despite this detail, Allegra wasn’t comforted by the idea she might’ve left her keys in the door lock.

She inched to the coat rack beside the door and pulled on her house robe. The heater was thrumming through the vents above the door, but she felt cold; impossibly chilled to the core. She shuffled out into the corridor, hand trailing the wall. Three, five, seven – she counted her steps, shoes catching on the carpet. On the last step, before the yawning archway of her living room, she froze.

It was obvious now that she was right on top of the opening, the sound spun on the warm churn of air within her home. Five steps back she might’ve heard it if she were more alert, but she was barely holding upright; the wall kept her from tipping dangerously. She listened by the wall edge, every nerve bristled.

The stereo was on. A soft melody trickled by her ears, barely over the sound of her breathing. She held her breath and shuffled backwards.

She never listened to the radio, not unless it was her sparse free days and she planned on mellowing out. She would remember turning it on; that she would remember.

Allegra began backing up, nearly knocking into a desk beside the wall. She made it to her bedroom and eased the door shut. And clicked the lock.

For the next ten minutes she sat on her bed, mind reeling. Someone was in her home. Maybe not one-hundred-percent certain, but she knew her half ‘sleep walking’ habits. She felt her pockets over one more time. She didn’t need her keys. She got up and checked her vanity desk.

The phone was gone.

One-Hundred-Percent certain now, someone was in her home. And they brought her here.

No-no. That didn’t make sense.

Allegra flicked on the accent lamp in the corner of her room. She carefully eased the closet door open, and pushed aside piles of outdated medical gear, tools of the trade, cardboard boxes, old laundry. She dug around until she located the combination lockbox. With a final confirming glance to her window, she sat with the box and put the code in. Inside the box among spare cash and bank statements, and other valuables, she pulled out a pistol. She shut the box and dug around in her spare shoes. Actually, it was a coat pocket where she found the ammo cartridge. Six rounds. She gave herself moment to recover from the tension, then, loaded the cartridge into the pistol.

The thought she could be in error, and that she could be proceeding out to confront someone from her place of work, did cross her mind. But no one – she wasn’t that close to anyone – would have done this. She got her nerve under order before unlocking the bedroom and inching into the hall; shoulder pressed to the wall.

The opposite end of the hall had a spare bedroom, door open. Tinted light trickled in under the slat gray. Her eyes were unaccustomed after absorbing the soft light from her room, but by the time she reached the archway that veered right, into her living area, she was better acclimated to the dreary haze. She stood by the doorway and listened; the song hummed on, faintly. No other sounds crept around, and that unnerved her. She wanted to detect something, know for certain if someone was there or where they could possibly be. The last thing she needed was getting spooked into killing another person. She dealt with enough corpses daily. Hourly.

Allegra edged around the corner. She was stiff like a board; head a mess of pain and adrenalin. She didn’t want to be here; her own personal sanctuary of all places. She didn’t want to do this.

The living area seemed much darker than the corridor, despite the large windows in the kitchen, and the patio doors to the side of the room behind the couch. Last traces of dusk glamor shimmered through a gap in the blinds, and hit the patch of tile. The living area was nestled in close with the kitchen, an open floor plan. The sides of the living area entertained built in shelves, filled with books, movies, a television, and other knickknacks. Her eyes first zoned in on the radio placed on the shelf there, but as expected, no one is there.

At first she doesn’t see him, in her haste to give the room a second and third scan. Allegra checked the dining area in the further corner, its dark cloak, the looming maw of a doorway, and the general peripheral of the room. She completely bypassed over the couch situated in front of the sliding patio door.

A deflated and haggard face stared up from a lumpy mess of coat and spare blankets; blankets Allegra kept in a hall closet. The eyes in the shrouded face stared back, unwavering. Allegra took a moment to react and fix the barrel of the pistol on the heap sunken into the couch.

“Is that gun loaded?”

03. Walking Scandal

“Is that gun loaded?”

Allegra felt her knee tremble and the tendons give out. Smoothly, and with every ounce of willpower, she sidestepped and leaned on the edge of the bookcase. The gun remained fixed on the face poking out of the blanket pile.

“It is.”

“Please don’t shoot me,” the voice was soft, wary.

Allegra wouldn’t let her resolve waver. She gave her immediate zone a quick glimpse, but kept a sharp ear on the figure. He appeared to be alone.

“Answer me then. Who are you? I’ll think about what to do with you.” For a brief spell the intruder was silent; Allegra wondered if he was judging whether or not he could overtake her, and the weapon.

“You collapsed,” he answered, finally. In his mediation he rubbed his fist at his cheek. “I brought you here. Sorry, maybe it would have been better to call a medic? You had a wallet on you, and I looked up your address. I wasn’t trying to rob you, nothing like that. I thought... you could have a condition, and it would be on an ID or driver’s license. I didn’t know what else to do. You wouldn’t wake up.”

Allegra took a deep breath and let it out. Spots pricked in her peripheral, and her head went fuzzy. “No. No-no.” She blinked away the thickness; she needed to get back to bed. “That’s not true. I remember… you knocked me down. I hit my head.” A thin grin spread through the lips of that face – he must’ve been between twenty or thirty, but no more.

“Well, true. I didn’t know how you would take that. All honesty, I was trying to get up.” He looked away, somewhat distant, his brows knitted tightly. Reflective. He kept silent.

“That bump on your head,” he resumed. “You should be laying down. Resting.”

The situation was… off. Of course, getting KOed and hauled back to your home was beyond the norm, but everything was spiraling beyond sanity and safety. Allegra skimmed through the series of events – up to before she was laid out – to really get a grip of where her 'situation' was. She disconnected from the bookshelf and moved toward the couch, eyes intently studying the intruder’s face. The light was poor and his hair was smatted and sticking to the side of his head. He watched as she came closer, and closer still.

He looked familiar. Allegra couldn’t place where, but perhaps he had a familiar face – a general appearance easily mistaken or incorrectly recalled. It was too dark to define his complexion, and he squinted at her as if searching through a veil. His hair was—

And in a flash the man rose in front of her, mound of blankets thrown backwards in a black eclipsing shadow; uncoiled all at once and enveloping. A hand shot out to her clutched fists; movement so fast Allegra’s muscles locked reflexively. A pulse of light balked off, momentarily blinding her, the noise splint the air and left her ears buzzing. But the gun was out of grasp, and the man – home invader – now held her wrists in one bone crushing grip.

“Gun. Out of my face.” He released her promptly and curled down, wheezing as he hobbled back. Enough distance to fiddle with the weapon, without her springing into retaliation.

But Allegra didn’t feel like springing. She dropped to one knee, and leaned on the couch cushions.

“You strung out over nothing worry,” he replied. The intruder unloaded the pistol, and tossed it onto the seat beside Allegra; the ammo cartridge bounced off her elbow. “If you give yourself a chance to relax, you’ll recover better.” He moved from the couch, and stood near the kitchen entry.

“It’s weird,” Allegra snapped, as she reloaded the pistol. “It’s like I get defensive—”

“I’m not keeping you here,” he broke in. “Really, you can leave if you want. Though, no promise I’ll be here when you get back, should you want to bring some friends. But you’re not confined. If that's what you're on about.” He turned a little and looked out one of the large kitchen windows. “I’m recovering my bearings – that’s the truth. I planned to leave before you woke, but… you did suffer a mild concussion. I was worried.”

Quietly and with marginal amount of restraint, Allegra prodded her faulty memory of what she could recall up to her fall, and to it factored in the man intruding in her home. A self-declared good Samaritan in her time of need. She recalled the unsettling sounds. Finding the body, or what she perceived to be a corpse left out – an elaborate prank. It wasn’t unheard of. But he wasn’t dead. What was he doing in the department? More importantly, how did he get out, and with her? Someone had to have seen.

Someone had to. It was unfathomable to believe he slipped out of the department unseen. His story didn’t add up. He was hiding something. He invited her to doubt. That was it.

She spoke her muddling to herself for the most part; deep concentration bore a heavy weight on her wounded memory. But he heard. The intruder peered at her, calculating something. That, too, was apparent. “What do you remember?” He scrubbed at his face, and looked at his hand. A beat came and went, the soft tunes rambled on in the background.

“Maybe, ah, talking about it will relieve your stress?” he posed. The man didn’t as much as blink when the reloaded gun was turned back on him. “Or drinking something might? Warm milk and honey? Do you have tea?” He spun away and entered into the kitchen space.

It helped Allegra’s nerves to have the gun, and have it on a target. “Did you go through my fridge?”

“No. But you do eat, don’t you?” He stooped down, awkwardly; light swept up the ceiling and walls. Pause. “You do eat, don’t you?” He reappeared with a cartoon and uncapped it. A light sniff and the face twisted up in the dying shade of the fridge light.

“I don’t do a lot of shopping.” Allegra let the gun go slack on the couch. She heard him rummage about; the fridge light pulsed and flashed as the figure pulled out containers and tossed them. “Busy schedule. Lots of days spent in the office. Food usually gets left and forgotten. Goes bad.” She felt at her wrist and checked her watch. “Can you at least get me a glass of water?” She heard more than observed his search. “Cabinet above the sink.” The doors clicked open and shut. Water trickled from the faucet. She looked up and watched as he filled the tall glass. He didn’t do anything with the cup; brought it straight to her like a normal person would. A normal person that hadn’t knocked her out and broke into her home. That was more normal than the fact that….

“Set it on the floor.”

He stopped a few feet from her. Click. Light felt its way up and down the walls, exploring the room fully from its source; the end table’s lamp. Allegra didn’t avert her eyes as she lowered her hand from the lamp; she kept that gun on point. Though she had a better view of his features, and his complexion; that nagging remained at the back of her head. She saw him somewhere, before encountering him in the corridor. But where?

The man had indulged in a wardrobe change since she clonked out. He wore a puffy coat, basic enough as far as coats went, and dark slacks. A dark patch swelled on his left shoulder; he shifted his posture under her lingering stare.

Carefully, he set the glass on the carpet a yard from Allegra, and backed away. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he hummed. “My intuition tells me you know your kitchen better than I do.”

Allegra took the glass and gulped down the tepid liquid, to the last drop. She didn’t realize how parched she was until the water hit her lips. With that little bit of fluid her head became a fraction clearer, but she still felt languid and muddled. She had a few more hours to rest before her shift began, but there wasn’t going to be anymore rest.

And a strange man – who broke into the department – was in her home. She did not have plans to go to work and leave him all alone. She didn’t know exactly what to do; without a phone. If he did allow her to leave, then it would be in her best interest to seek help. No doubt he would leave, but she could offer a description; a lead and investigation was better than….

Allegra checked her watch again. Eight already. “I have to get ready for work.” She tried to read the man’s expression on her confession. For the time, he was stationed in the kitchen staring out a window and oblivious to her. He didn’t budge. “My shift starts at nine.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, can I stay here for a short time?”

Allegra balanced herself, and watched the man. The window he gazed through overlooked the front lawn and a portion of the street. Allegra gave her person a pat down. “You didn’t do anything to me, did you? Aside from knock me out.” She raised the gun slightly when he glanced her way.

“Ew. No. I’m not that sort of… person. I searched you, for some identification, and carried you home.” He brushed his hand over his face. “That was the extent of the physical contact. Promise.”

That felt like the first honest confession he had given since she confronted him. Allegra didn’t feel undressed and redressed, but the ache in her body. Her head flared with pain. Hydrocodone would take off the edge.

Allegra knew there was no way she was going to rush and make it into the city for work, and she didn’t feel like confronting the squatter about the missing phone; no reason to raise alarm. Priority, she needed to get out.

Her shoulder and head were in absolute agony. Once Allegra was in the bathroom, she searched through the cabinet for her prescription medication and took that, along with two more glasses of water. She kept the pistol in sight on the toilet tank while cleaning up and dressing. One peculiarity she noted was the spare pillow case draped over the mirror, and held in place by staples. That was bizarre, but she was more discomforted by the idea he had used her sole only bathroom. She spent as little time as necessary within.

Once ready, she sought out the intruder. Same as when she sought him out before, he was curled up on the couch. This time she kept the pistol hidden in her pocket, but in a firm grip.

“I need my keys.”

The man raised his gaze from her presented palm, to her face. “The shelf beside the doorway.”

“Are you going to be here when I return home?” she posed, withdrawing her hand. He shrugged and sank into the blankets.

“No promises. I’m not on board with wrecking your place, staying here, or being more of a nuisance than I am.” He made a small effort to grin, thinly. It wasn’t disarming, it wasn’t ‘charming’, it was meek expression akin to someone trying to reassure them self, more than anyone else. “Do whatever suits you. But don't think about me. As far as this goes, I don’t exist.”

Allegra frowned. She let the issue go, and moved – facing the man the whole time – to the open doorway that lead to the front of her home. True to word, the keys were left on the shelf beside the doorway. Her Range Rover was still in one piece, no visible scratches or unaccounted dings; it wasn’t a brand new car when she bought it, but she took care of it. She checked the back seats and the cluttered back; filled with boxes of papers and discarded files from work. Nothing suspicious.

A wave of relief rippled through Allegra when she opened the driver-side door, and slipped inside. Security. Touchdown. For a while she sat, ignoring the flutter of panic scolding her that she was late and needed to get a move on; she needed a second to herself.

From the outside her home still looked normal and inviting. The windows dim; the unwanted occupant must’ve turned off the lamp on the end table; she usually kept a light one when she left for the graveyard shift. Small habits aside, her home looked typical, like all the other economical homes throughout the neighborhood. Only a few houses had lights on within the windows, and the soft, inviting glow of porches dotted the nightscape scenery.

Allegra fired up the engine and backed out of the driveway. As the miles piled on between her and her home, she wondered if everything experienced was factual. It was surreal, impossible. There couldn’t be a dangerous assailant and intruder, housesitting her home. She didn’t just leave like any drab and boring old day, off to work as if everything wasn’t completely off.

She took deep breathes at each and every traffic light she stopped at. This could not be happening.

But it was.

No internal evidence was present within the environment of the department when she arrived in an hour’s time. The usual routine was in order, and the regular shift was up and about on errands. Aside from the vague accusation from security detail when she was traipsing through the first floors checkpoint, nothing was a red flag of breaking character.

“You didn’t clock out last night,” the security woman grunted. She handed over the box of items passed through, once Allegra exited the metal detector ark.

Allegra exhaled sharply, distracted. “Yeah. I was tired, I’ll be more careful. So sorry.” She got out of the way of the next person, while she stuffed her pockets. Security didn’t seem boosted. And somehow, that man got in and out without alerting anyone? Hard to believe.

One detail worth alarm was the fact Harvey Klein was not at his desk working, nor at the second floor lounge on his prescripted break. This wasn’t incredible unusual; each homicide investigator had side-engagements to undertake during their shift, and it was easy to lose track of time. Harvey began hours before Allegra came in and could’ve been called away.

The apathetic drone and redundancy of the commune research office made Allegra question if what she witnessed within her home were real, or if she ever left work (was taken) in the first place. When she thought back on heading to the lift, and then hearing the strange calling; she doubted her own perception. She followed infant cries and was attacked. Or, hit her head as the man put it.

A few hours in and no hair or hop of Harvey, and no one (not even Chuck) knew for certain if he had come in at his shift start. Allegra didn’t do more than bury herself in the looming assignments, churning through paperwork, and flat out working under the floodgates of anxiety. There did rise some murmurs, straight from Third. Allegra didn’t go out of the way to ask for specifics, but there was mention of an internal scandal; a matter of investigation. These insinuations left Allegra stunned, and apprehensive about Harvey’s wellbeing.

When Allegra managed to pry herself away from work, somewhat nebulous, she decided to return to her vehicle and check the glove compartment. The pistol was there, locked away before she went in. It was a relief knowing it was in her possession, more than knowing she might've been lucid at the time. The medication for her headache wasn't that strong, but she wasn't beyond doubting it as an influencer as well. She sat in the Rover, debating on how to present her assault to the department – but did recall that there was no guarantee the man would be present at her home for capture. He wasn’t going to wait around for arrest.

But he did admit he wanted to stay there. Safe. It wasn’t a guarantee, even if the effort was coordinated to catch him. He smuggled her out of the department. He was up to something.

After a half hour debate over options, Allegra reentered homicide. On her way to the elevator, Harvey caught up to her in hall. “Oh god, Harv-o!” Allegra went for an immediate embrace. “Where have you been?”

“Me?” Harvey gasped, expression dismal. “You didn’t hear them calling for you?” He gave her a long straight-on stare when Allegra backed up. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Who? I stepped outside for some fresh air.” Allegra rubbed at her face, hoping to bruise some color back into her cheeks.

Harvey gave her a floor and room number; Internal Affairs and Investigation. “That’s where I’ve been. Taking Q and A – no idea what it’s about, but there have been some incidents that have been smothered out. The day guard from B level? He was attacked – not recent either – this was a few days ago. You know, was it Adrian. Or Roger? I can’t remember— Anyway, someone drugged him. A totally separate branch from criminal investigation is popping downstairs, but they haven’t released details on what’s going on. Third floor is in a wild buzz.”

Allegra didn’t try speaking. She was good with absorbing the timeframe alone, and piecing together the vague transcription of events. She filed her thoughts back into order; starting from when she boarded the lift on her shift-end. “Oh my god,” she stuttered, reaching up to her collar. “Was he— the guard? Was he all right?”

“Yeah,” Harvey muttered. “They didn’t release word on what was taken, but Third insists it was a cadaver. To top it all off, Otto didn’t show up to work and no one’s been able to reach him. And you… I thought something happened to you. You didn’t sign out from your shift, and I couldn’t get out to wait out for you.” He pulled Allegra into a second hug.

They pulled away and sidestepped as a gurney wheeled by, accompanied by a plain-cloths cop and one of the local hands. Allegra watched them, before turning to Harvey.

“Do they know what time all this took place? I was very tired yesterday. I don’t remember— I must’ve forgotten to sign out.”

Harvey nodded. “What time did you take off yesterday? This morning?” Harvey smirked. “The guard didn’t recall either – I don’t think. The matter thus far has been hush-hush – under no circumstance are we allowed to engage in the rumors spread.”

“So everybody Third up knows?” Allegra raised her gaze to the microphone mounted in the upper corner of the hall. The message droned out with her identification serial, full name, and the pre-mentioned floor Harvey relayed earlier.

Allegra didn’t have a lot of time to think about what she should say, or dwell on what the questioning could entail. She drew out the time from her departure with Harvey, to when she had to venture up three floors to Internal Affairs sector.

An Investigation. The department that dealt with personal reports, altered or missing evidence, and other matters of interest which dealt with the threatened security of homicide study.

A pause followed Allegra’s knock. She waited; hands pressed to the sides of her neck. She slept on her shoulder wrong and the muscle was tender, to the point a simple turn of the head agonized her. She wished now she brought the medicine. The side-effects included drowsiness, but with the way she felt now, the risks would be worth it; the pain refused to go ignored. She needed to wake up more. She needed a drink of something cool and smooth.

“Go ahead and enter.”

Allegra tried the knob. She pushed the door in, and found the cluttered office housed two extra occupants; one was a man in a suit, and the second was a scratchy appearing man in a dress vest.

“Good evening, Dr. Leopold,” Allegra began. She addressed the man behind the oak desk, and did her best not to stare at the other two. In turn, the added occupants offered the same courtesy; the man in the dress vest sat in a chair that looked too small for him and flipped through a provided folder.

“Agent Bunsen, and Director of Internal Affairs Kistler.” Leopold indicated first the scratchy man, then the man in the dress vest. “They’re here on reviewing questioning from members of the homicide department, namely those that had access to the basement in the recent week.” Leopold articulated exact dates and read the times off, and which homicide investigators entered the basement level. “You didn’t sign out when you left the night before.”

“No, I didn’t,” Allegra admitted. She kept rolling the prospective Q and A back and forth in her head; above all else, what should she say. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the current occupant/assailant of her residence, and the pistol she had locked in the Rover.

She should say something here and now.

“I don’t recall leaving – my schedule has been loaded with paperwork,” Allegra uttered, instead. “My partner – Harvey Klein – he and I have been able to keep up with the incoming, but only by a hair.”

“Are you feeling all right?” Allegra turned her eyes to the man in the too-small chair. Director Kistler. “You look ill.”

Allegra managed a smile. “I’m completely peachy. That’s homicide and the Does – under staffed and overworked. We can’t exactly ask wrongful death to take a vacation.” Kistler left a lasting stare on her, before allowing his eyes to dip back into the folder.

“Norvyn Dawud was on security the night before, at the main entrance. He didn’t see you leave,” Leopold clarified. “And none of the emergency exits appeared tampered with.” He held up a hand when Allegra opened her mouth. “I don’t believe you went above and beyond to simply sneak out after a full shift, but we take all evidence in order and work towards our conclusions. You are aware like most in the department, that a theft took place.”

Allegra gulped, but maintained a straight face. “He did it. There was man that broke into the department, assaulted me, and slipped back out into the night.”

“Am I a suspect?” she managed.

Leepold hummed, and checked a page on his desk. “Not yet… there are inconsistencies with the estimated time this theft took place, the supplied recounts of the questioned staff, and also prints.” The lines in his face deepened. “We’ve managed to keep the items identity a secret. Above all else, we do factor in staffs track record and current psychological reports. The investigation is ongoing at this time, and information is sensitive.”

Prints did catch Allegra’s ear. Fingerprints. Those found within the department would match those of the intruder. She opened her mouth, but hesitated.

During the breather, Kistler spoke up. “You and Dr. Klein were working on preliminary analysis of Does brought in? Cadavers categorized among a distinct set of MOs that have been a recent appearance through the city?”

Allegra nodded. She glanced Bunsen’s way – he watched her with dark ringed eyes. “At risk of repeating what Klein told you, can you give me a briefing?” She listened as Leopold offered a condense version, including the theories she and Harvey came up with while transporting the cadaver down for storage. She wondered if one of the cadavers she and Harvey had cataloged that day went missing – Leopold did refer to the missing item as having an identity. “Harvey made estimates on the month of death, based around an unusually warm fall. He may be right that it doesn’t quit line up given what we viewed.”

“What did he figure with the body? Be specific,” Bunsen pressed. Allegra swung his way stiffly.

“From our gathered intuition on rate of decomposition, the surface epidermis was intact as were sub dermal tissue.” Allegra considered more of the cadaver, and the notes gathered. “There was a noted lack of decay in major organs – those which are noted to break down fastest due to the higher percentages of percent bacterial pathogens – such as intestines and liver. The probable month of death was difficult to reach.”

“Dr. Klein mentioned he and you had indirect contact with a cadaver you were not assigned to catalog,” Dr. Leopold interjected. He browsed over a stack of pages on his desk. “And you made observations. What did you think?”

“Could you clarify?” Allegra was standing, and she rather sit for a bit.

“A John Doe-65.” Leopold peered at the files; sifting aside a monochrome photograph. “You spoke with the autopsy team, Tom and Otto – there was an intern assisting them.”

Allegra plucked at her sleeve end, her mind rummaging through the brief exchange. “I do believe I recall… murder weapon was a huge metal bar?” To her question, Leopold nodded. “The body was starved, but there was no other explicit evidence.” Allegra raised her shoulders. A light twinge bit at her neck. “Ah. But the cadaver that Tom and Otto were examining did have injuries not dissimilar to a John Doe Harvey and I examined earlier that evening. A fatal chest wound.”

It wasn’t impossible to believe that the man who had stolen and delivered Allegra to her home, was also capable of working the incinerator in the basement – if his intent was to destroy evidence rather lift it. This certified one matter for Allegra; the man was skilled, or had an inside informant from the department. Someone that abetted to getting the task done; either destroy or theft the evidence. As Leopold put it, the incinerators were simple, old machines and easy to use, and determining if they were used at all and for what mediums would be difficult. If the man at Allegra’s home did have an accomplice, why did he attack and turn up at her home? To her, it sounded as if he was betrayed. Which would explain his ‘law low’ intents.

“Sam, from the basement, was all right?” Allegra breathed, at length. “Not cuts or assault?” Leopold gave her a somewhat bewildered look.

“Yes. He was given a strong narcotic, and no – no lasting harm done.” Leopold looked at Bunsen and Kistler, before readdressing Allegra. “Where did you leave the building from the night before? I need that detail for reference.”

Allegra made up a story, along the way of formation questioned about who was on staff and where as she made her way along the usual route to leave the department. Leopold’s transcript of her disappearance was thus, apparently, no one had seen her head out from the entrance, but at one point her compact Rover was gone and they put two-and-two together. This factor annoyed Allegra more than it terrified. Literally abducted right out from under their noses, and no one more the wiser. She had even spoken to someone a few minutes up before her vanishing act; however, she didn’t recall his face or get a name.

By the time they were done, Allegra was worn and ready to go home. She had two more hours on shift, and Harvey was waiting outside the room when finally emerged; drained and mind spinning webs. She heaved loose a sigh and crossed over to him.

“We have two bodies to process,” Harvey chirped. “You should call in sick, and let me and Chuck deal with the paperwork. He can jot down notes.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll take the next shift off,” Allegra assured. “Hmm. Harvey?”

“Yeah?” He was exiting out the doorway and into the corridor, but stopped and gave her his attention.

“Nevermind.” Allegra patted his shoulder and brushed by. “I think I can handle two dead people. Oh, would you by chance know? Files? I got the gist whoever came in was—” Allegra stopped herself. No one but her was aware of the man that infiltrated the department; the consensus was that someone in the department mishandled evidence. “Do you think Tom submitted the files for the John Doe his team was looking at?” That came from left field.

“I’m not entirely certain.” Harvey matched her pace; his arms crossed. He mused, partly to himself, “Considering, Remus wanted the autopsy on that body postponed. They would have preliminary info filled out, some pictures. Uhh, why the interest? Was this something from Leopold?” They reached the hall end and Harvey punched the button on the lift panel. He bit his lip and hissed.

Allegra pondered over Harvey’s words briefly. “Yeah. Well. He did question about the cadaver the three were looking at.” Allegra gave the vital details over. “Seems like some conflicts of interests in the higher ups. Exciting.”

“I did do some research into the more recent files,” Harvey began. “There’s not a big budget for Doe murder investigations, but I did find significant consistencies within the MOs. Would it even be worth the time to compile those files?” Harvey shook his head. He moved aside as passengers departed the lift, and then climbed in with the remaining staff leftover. “I’d thought about meshing the info and files we already have, and submit them to Remus. See what he thinks. He was supposed to be back today, but I haven’t heard if he’s gotten in yet. No word on what he’s been up to.”

Allegra hit the number, and leaned onto the wall. “The way it sounds, he was miles away when the action went down. He might already be investigating those files.”

Harvey nodded. “True. If that’s what’s going on.”

The lift elevated and dipped. Allegra snapped her eyes open, her thoughts a smidgen cleaner. “There was a guy here the other evening – early morning.” She described the individual she crossed paths with, while searching for the bizarre sounds. The eerie crying. “Have you seen someone like that?”

Harvey looked over his shoulder at her. “Sounds like Rayan, a guy in forensic photography and printing.”

“What floor is he on? Did he come in today?” Allegra punched the key on the panel. Harvey barked a confused sound right when the doors shut them off from the open corridor. There were curses and muffled language from the other side, but the lift was already descending. Allegra swayed and Harvey snared her before she toppled over.

04. Shackles of Conflict

The entry Allegra typically used into her home was a side/backdoor, nestled in beside the extension of the garage port. She shut the door on the early gray of dawn and flicked the lock. Then listened.

Her home was dark and still, aside from the continued roll of the stereo, she could gather no other distinct noise. She wondered if her abductor was still present, or if during her shift he decided to depart her home. He had threatened as much; Allegra suspected he would leave if he anticipated her bringing the whole investigative department onto her house.

Allegra entered the door entry and flipped on the accent lamp, on the nearby shelf. She blinked against the flare. The room was prioritized for her utility tools, and lined with industrial shelves; the shelves were stacked with duct tape, weed killer, spraypaint, wire rolls, cabinet liner, and other essentials. The opposite door and home entry was shut, but she could detect nothing immediately beyond the panel. Allegra crept forward and eased the door open. As she emerged into the kitchen, she reached for the wall and clicked on the ceiling lights, the small bulbs gleamed across countertops the appliances. With the room illuminated, she studied beyond the kitchen and the living area with the lone couch. The blind slates at the sliding door swayed.

Nothing.

With a sigh, Allegra tread over to the vacant couch and sat down, on the far side away from the bundle of blankets. She stared at the messy heap. The blankets were still there. The radio was on, too.

She shut her eyes and laid her head back. The angle she was trying to lay at strained her neck, forcing Allegra to scoot down and stretch out. She rested her head on the armrest and closed her eyes.

A noise pried at her diluted senses. Allegra jarred and sat upright; arms tightly fitted over her chest. The light in the kitchen remained on. She searched her immediate range—

The abductor rounded the corner and entered from the corridor. It looked as if he came from the spare room. He stopped and gave her a long suspicious stare.

“I made an effort not to rouse you.” He crossed to the bookshelf. One hand scrubbed at his face, as if smoothing down stubble. Allegra suspected he decided on turning the radio off, but instead he picked up a mangled little sock on the shelf. “I did some work on cleaning – it appears you don’t have a lot of time for that, either.” For emphasis, he coughed into his raised fist. The hand that held the ratty little sock ran the clothing article over the bookshelf. “I’m shrewd with my work. I’ve done domestic type jobs in the past. Odd jobs. Handy-man type work.”

Allegra explored the room over with her eyes, and could identify the glinting surface of the end tables, the carpet was lined and ruffled with vacuumed lines, the cabinets in the kitchen shimmered. Did the counters sparkle when she turned on the light?

“Thank you,” Allegra said. Though she was almost certain she didn’t invite the home invasion. “You worked all evening? While I was out.”

The man wheezed a bit. He sounded ill, almost. “I managed what I could. I could’ve... It’s the least I could do. I know you don’t want me here, and I’d rather be someplace more hospitable.”

Allegra stood up from the couch, and made an effort to straighten her clothing. She wore basic slacks and a button up shirt, work brand fashion that looked nice. Typically she changed as soon as she got in, or showered at the department before leaving.

“I need to pick up something to eat. Are you hungry?”

The man sat on the floor beside a fake plant, which he glowered up at. “No.” A short beat followed. He shook his head and directed his gaze to Allegra. “Yes. You’re still not up to speed? Would you rather I go?” He patted his thigh. “I would buy, but I’ve misplaced my funds.”

It didn’t appear he had much going in terms of funds, Allegra speculated, by look of his clothing. She said nothing; instead, she retrieved a notepad and pen from a drawer and delivered them to him. As she backed away, she placed her hand on the pocket which held the pistol.

“I’ll pick up some cleaning supplies. You’re using a sock.” The man fidgeted.

“Yaaaah. I’ve been on dust duty.”

“Make a list of what else you need, and I’ll budget.” Allegra left him to the task, and wandered off to the bathroom. Despite the nap, she knew the prescription pills would still make her drowsy. She washed her hands and checked her watch. It was only five PM, and her following shift was canceled. Allegra passed a glance to the pinned cover, replaced, over the mirror.

“What did you do with my phone?” was the question, Allegra delivered upon returning to the living area.

He looked up from the notepad. Quickly, he rose and moved up behind the couch. Tugging up the rumpled blankets he revealed the phone and all attachments, hidden, but intact. “I wasn’t about to cut your cord. You’d rightly panic and phone someone, if I didn’t have the chance to explain myself.”

Allegra didn’t have much else to say, other than, “I appreciate that – disconnecting, rather than cutting.” It would’ve been one more errand and a fresh, unnecessary expense. She returned the phone to her bedroom and hooked it up. She made a mental note that he didn’t follow, or make further comment about the issue. That, or make comment regarding her return to the homicide department where he attacked abducted her; she wasn’t so sure which was more accurate.

“You’re not at all worried I might call someone?” Allegra posed, upon her return to the living room. “The police, to be unoriginal? My work place.”

He coughed somewhat, and his voice rattled as he began speaking. A second gruff-wheeze cleared the problem. “I’m guarded. You have every right to call someone, but if you do, I will quickly vacate the premises. Though you are capable, I don’t think you will.” He raised his gaze from the notepad. “But, you’re not exactly threatened by me. Are you?”

Allegra thought about that. Really, she was unsettled by his presence. However, he had the opportunity to do her harm, or abandon her someplace. She reasoned this person needed her to resume her usual routine to avoid detection, from whoever he had concealed himself from. Someone from the departments; his inside source possibly; their alliance may have taken a dive south. It was foolish to let her guard down, but the impression he wasn’t dangerous forefront won her over. The goal right now was to bide time for answers, but he wouldn’t give them up. Spooking him off would be the complete opposite of helpful.

“No,” she answered. “Is there a specific reason why you couldn’t break into someone else’s home? Clean for them?”

“But we’ve become so close already.” He tore the sheet of paper from the notepad and extended his arm. His smirk broadened.

“Are you trying to charm me?” Allegra snatched the paper away and backed up.

“I take it’s not working.”

“I take it you’re not in the tactical position to do that sort of charming.” Allegra put her hand in the pocket with the pistol. She skimmed over the list. “Do you have food allergies I should be aware of?” The man shook his head. “A name, then?”

This caught the department infiltrator off-guard. He almost spoke, but stalled. “You’re spending a lot of time on a fake name,” Allegra encouraged.

“John.”

Allegra gave him her full attention. “Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with John?”

Allegra stopped there, but bore in mind it was genuinely the first thing in his subconscious he latched onto. John, or Not really John, broke into the basement level of the homicide and tampered/destroyed evidence. He must have seen one of the Doe possessions boxes….

Shopping flew by, and Allegra struggled to focus as she drove between destinations and intermingled with rush-noon-lunch traffic. Her mind puzzled over what she was told, the withheld information Dr. Leopold must have been dodging around. The only way Not John could have gotten out of the station, with her unconscious body no less, was if he had an inside assistant. An accomplice to aid him, and who knew the department well enough to evade security.

Fast-food was her last stop, before returning to her neighborhood and home. Allegra took the time to eat and stayed out in the parking-lot among patrons and eyes, eating her one-forty-nine dinner and pondered her rash decision. Two people missing, one guard was attacked. It would’ve been safe to tell Leopold everything, surely. But John was wary of something as well; something to do with the stolen property of the basement. Perhaps Remus had something to do with the body. He was the only other person to know of it, beyond the department. But Remus was a Department Head and a strict guy when it came to protocol; it didn’t make sense.

When Allegra made it into her home and stepped into the bright kitchen zone, she found the living space in the same state when she arrived earlier – plus some extra shine.

A saucepan was left on the stove, the bottom filled with liquid and bubbles. Allegra frowned. She set the bags down on the counter-top, and listened. The stove was off, but still heated. The stereo was still humming tunes, but the rest of the home was typical and uninhabited.

That’s what he was doing, Allegra decided. John was either hidden, or relocated to a position from where he could observe her arrival. He didn’t seem capable of overtly athletic movement, but that didn’t mean she was correct. He could have found a small task elsewhere to preoccupy his time.

“I brought food,” Allegra announced. She went to the sink and washed her hands. Then, undertook the task of organizing the purchases; some were private acquisitions. She drank another glass of water as she tucked emptied bags away for later use. When Allegra shut a low cabinet and stood, she jumped at the noise of the patio door sliding open. The named John entered, and slipped the door shut.

“The track needed some good hot water and dish soap,” he supplied.

“You’ll have to show me around. A full house tour of a remastered disaster,” Allegra replied. She brought out the gear specifically requested, and set it out on the countertop bench. “You’re doing more than you need to.”

“An apology for knocking you down. And out.” John pulled the edge of the coat sleeve over his palm. “I’m not happy about that.”

Allegra nodded. She thought about Samuel, and his ‘incident’. “Did you have any business down in the basement?” John stooped to snatch up the sock he dropped. He moved in that same jittery, awkward measure. “Oh, I don’t know where you grabbed that getup. I went ahead and picked up something less offensive. I hope it fits… you’re not quite as tall as me, are you?”

“T-thanks,” John stuttered. He gazed at Allegra, with a hint of indignity. “I’m not that short.”

“You’re really petite. For a man. Nothing fancy.” Allegra swung the bag over to John. It sighed and deflated at his bare feet. “You know where the spare room is. You can get dressed.”

John shook off the daze. He collected up the bag, and moved in on the counter-top cluttered with goods. “Later-later. I still have a bit to do, and I’ll save the new threads for when I get spruced up.” He looked through a few bottles, picked up a bundle of spare rags from the collection and ducked off. “I was in the middle of something when you came in.” His voice faded. He disappeared into the corridor.

“Your foods going to get chilled!” Allegra howled. She winced. The pain medication was wearing off. At least it didn’t put her in a woozy depression the way it usually did. She finished unpacking, put some foods into the refrigerator, and moved out into the living area.

Allegra kicked off her shoes and sank down on the couch. The blanket mound was gone; she didn’t dwell on its new occupancy. She rather settle in and keep an eye on the named John, as he ran back and forth. She could hear him sometimes in the next room, when he bumped a wall or… did something else. Otherwise, he went undetected.

“You’re foods gotten cold,” she muttered, whenever he darted through. At one point, the John tossed the bag into the refrigerator.

“I’ll heat it up later. It’ll be fine.”

Allegra didn’t argue after that. She shut her eyes, but blinked back the sleep. Her eyelids sunk down once more. She saw John slow when passing her, and stop entirely. He watched. Allegra frowned at him, but something must’ve gone wrong.

She struggled to turn over, before pushing herself up completely.

Everything was dark. She pushed her hands through her sheets and flopped over, with a grunt. She reached out with her hand feeling through the ambiguous veil; she hit the low foot board of her bed. Cursing and grumbling, she flipped positions and reached out, only to recall she already requested the work-shift off.

When did she make it to bed? Steadily, she wound through the events of the previous day. Food. John. Missing people. Cleaning. Not in that order. With a twinge of agitation, she concluded she nodded off. At least she was feeling leagues better than the day before, when she woke up from the fall. Still achy, but less lethargic, and more in tune with her surroundings. Even if she didn’t recognize she was upside down in bed.

The pipes hummed through the home, whistling away the woes of the day’s grunge. He was still in her home. At least she knew where he was this time.

Allegra pushed herself up in bed, still dressed in her clothing from the day before; her mid-length hair a tangled nest, short only prickly burrs to compliment the mess; the pistol burned a hole in her hip. She sat slouched sideways, waiting for her muscles to loosen and the dull pulse to fade. The water continued thrumming within the walls. She hit the digital clock. Late. She looked the way of the bedroom door, and imagined the corridor beyond it. Dark.

“Are you going to be in there much longer?” Allegra barked. She rapped on the door with her knuckles. “Not John?” The warble in the pipes died off, abandoning to the timid whistle of water trickling from the faucet. “We need to talk.” And she debated taking more medicine, but was on the fence about affording some time to come off the affects. “I need an answer. Now.”

“I need a towel,” the muffled reply came.

“Cabinet by the door.” Allegra listened to the click of the latch, and rummaging. “Do you have your new clothing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you eat?” Allegra looked to the kitchen, but couldn’t make out evidence of a disturbed refrigerator in the gloom. A low reply came at her backside. “I’ll make some coffee.” She tried the doorknob, and found the lock loose.

A sharp snarl came from behind the door, and the handle snapped out of Allegra’s grip. “Do you mind!”

“You should have locked it.” Allegra was shambling to the kitchen. She clicked on a few of the soft lights as she went. Within a few seconds, she had the filter in the brewer filled, and the water added in the tank. She left the brewer and stood beside the counter, which separated the living area from the kitchen. The bathroom door opened.

Not John emerged. He clicked the light off at his back, the towel slung over his shoulders and head; he patted his face with the plush fabric. He was dressed in the new clothing; the collar of the shirt buttoned all the way up.

“Are we still on moderately good terms?” he uttered. “Or should I hit the road?”

“No. I need you to be straight with me.” Algera pressed her palms together and put her compressed hands before her lips. “You were at the homicide department, where I worked.” John went still and stared at her. “An item was stolen from the basement level – I don’t know the details. Some sort of incriminating evidence – it had something to do with a missing person, I think.”

“A missing person?” John echoed.

“Or found Doe, a John Doe. Right? Like the name you picked.” Allegra took a deep breath, and lowered her hands to the countertop. “I know you didn’t act alone. You worked with someone – someone that you’re hiding from right now, as we speak?”

John said nothing. He clung to the towel draped over his shoulders, and stared off, at one of the dark kitchen windows.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Allegra admitted. Not John wouldn’t look at her. “But I see that you’re in some kind of trouble. Isn’t that right? My department can help you if—”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” John made a face, then, brought his fist close to his mouth.

“Listen,” Allegra resumed. “Two of my colleagues went missing. They made the files and cataloged a body – that must have something to do with it. Isn’t that why you’re hiding?”

“Files?” This time, John snapped his attention directly to Allegra. “What files?”

Allegra hesitated. She didn’t like that intense interest in his tone. “Basic identification of the body. Some photography and preliminary notes, minute observations. That’s what I’m saying – you had something to do with an item’s disappearance related to this cadaver, or the cadaver itself—”

“You didn’t see the body?” He stepped a little closer, eyes slanted quizzically.

“No, I didn’t.” Allegra straightened. The coffee maker wasn’t going. She flipped the switch, and got herself a glass of water. John denied and offered glass with a flick of his hand. “I didn’t get a good look at it.” After that, John directed his sight away, and nibbled on the end of the towel.

Allegra got another glass of water, and began to rethink her assessments. John didn’t have anything to do with missing evidence? He seemed genuinely concerned about the attention the department was getting, though wholly unaware a crime was committed. This was making no sense.

“I need to visit the morgue, and take the files.” Allegra snapped her head up to the response. John didn’t meet her gaze. He was completely out of it.

“That would be impossible. Currently, the department is under strict investigation.” Something occurred to Allegra. “You didn’t have someone in the department, assisting you?”

“Of course not.” John took a sharp breath.

“But…” Allegra dithered. She searched John for answers, but he was silent, his eyes intently fixed on a kitchen window. “What were you doing in the basement? That was your initial purpose, to tamper – I mean, destroy evidence. What are you looking at?”

Allegra went to the window. Close to the oily reflective surface, she caught sight of Not John as he booked it; presumably to the hall and a bedroom – a window. A few minutes of silence, and then a knock came to the entry door. She moved to the short corridor, extending from the living area and to the traditional front door.

“Hello?” She looked through the peephole, and snapped on the porchlight. A familiar face made the effort to smile back.

“Remus?” Allegra gaped. She unlatched the door, and turned on the entry light. “It’s kind of late.”

Remus was a square but sturdy young man, with untidy hair but a lot of passion for his people. He stepped up onto the threshold but held there momentarily.

“You really need an answering machine.”

“Did you try calling?” Allegra had one lone phone in all her household, and it was all the way in her bedroom. Or she was asleep. “It’s late— But come in! Come in! Get out of the cold.” She shut the door, and motioned to the coat stand in an alcove of the hall.

“Are you making coffee?”

“Come have a cup, and warm up.” Allegra led the way back into the living area and kitchen. “I’m sorry the place is a mess.” She was about to go on, but instantly caught the perplexed stare Remus gave to the twilight atmosphere of the room.

“A disaster site, I’m certain,” he mocked. “Allie, it could have waited, but I wanted to make sure you were holding up. How are you feeling?”

Allegra sighed as she went through the cabinets; momentarily, she forgot where the mugs kept residence. “Better, after some fluids and rest. It must’ve been a twenty-four hour thing. You came all this way to check in on me? You could’ve sent some smoke signals.” Remus was silent. Allegra spun around, and spied Remus standing rigid. He held something in his hands – one of the bathroom towels lay on the floor.

“Are you—”

“That’s not my blood,” Allegra snapped. She stared at Remus. Remus caught on.

And produced a relatively large pistol from under his coat. He dropped the towel, and watched Allegra intently. Allegra regained her composure, and tilted her head toward the archway across the room. She watched Remus inch his way toward the opening, the seasoned officer apparent in his sharp, controlled movements and stance. Like riding a bicycle.

Remus sided up to the wall and inched to the frame of the arch. He halted short of the portal and leaned carefully around the walls edge; the only sound on the air was the soft melody from the stereo. Allegra held her breath. The lethal end of the firearm peered into the corridor, and Remus followed briskly. The moment Remus was a fraction into the corridor a lamp crashed into his shoulder and pitched him sideways. A thick crack snapped off, buried under Remus’ shout.

Allegra’s jaw dropped. That little snippet didn’t compare, to witnessing Not John fly across the open portal and out of sight. A snarled curse erupted from Remus, and the scuffle began; the walls boomed as the two clashed. An ungodly shriek leapt forth—

A horrendous, inhuman sound Allegra would bet her soul came from the infiltrator of the homicide department.

#novel #book #book 1 #book series #grim dark #dark fiction #vampire #monster #forensic #story

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zukofenty · 4 years

Text

FWU

➜ Summary: The one where Katara (is sure) she's in love with the campus drug dealer.

“Sokka, I swear! He’s not a drug dealer...he’s just an unlicensed pharmacist!”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, humor, DrugDealer!Zuko

➜ Words: 2.5k

➜ Warnings: I will fight Katara for DrugDealer!Zuko 😩

AO3

“We got the goods!” Katara squeals, throwing down flour, sugar, chocolate chips, and a sack of marijuana.

Suki picks it up, sniffing the plastic bag. “This shit is loud and clear.” Her smile is dangerously devious. “Thanks, Zuko! This is going to be the best 4/20 ever!” Suki immediately begins to grab the proffered ingredients, shuffling them to the kitchen. She’s already taking some of the buds and putting them on a tray to prep in the oven. “Who knew fingering a drug dealer’s asshole would come in handy?”

Zuko immediately turns beet red. “Why do you keep telling people that happened?” Katara slaps Suki upside the head.

“Because I like seeing the two of you squirm, sue me!” Suki admits, shrugging her shoulders and dodging Toph’s slap to her ass.

Katara collapses on her futon, positively spent after spending the day helping Zuko drop off sacks for his clients, while buying all the ingredients they needed for baking edibles to celebrate the holiday.

“Zuko, what the fuck are you doing!” Katara screams, almost losing grip of the wheel.

“How about you make sure your fucking Prius doesn’t eat shit?” Zuko screeches, coming back to his seat after sticking his entire body out the hybrid car.

Katara smacks her forehead. The pain where she hit is almost as bad as the frustration she feels. “This is the exact fucking reason I never get Chipotle with you!” She sees the car that was formerly beside her pulled over at the side of the freeway, the driver clearly angry with how hard he was pounding the pavement with his fist. His entire body is covered in Zuko’s half chicken half barbacoa burrito bowl.

“I’m not going to lie, that was impressive. The NFL’s vag must be positively pulsating,” Katara deadpans, rubbing at her temples to relieve the pressure from forming. Sokka always said her road rage was the worst he’s ever seen, but alas her shouting and occasionally flipping people off could never compare to Zuko’s hotheadedness. Her gut feeling about grabbing an extra bowl paid off, much to her dismay. This was not a rare occurrence. “How did you manage to throw your entire bowl through the crack of his window?”

“Well, the NFL can go eat a dick!” Zuko says, wiping his hands on a Chipotle napkin before taking a sip from his water cup filled to the brim with their lemonade. “And the shit dick had it coming.” He did, Zuko swears. It’s completely his fault for not only playing Michael Buble as loud as his Honda Accord was capable of, but also refusing to use his turn signal, and then screaming “fuck you, pussy hoe!” when Katara honked at him. That bitch.

“Right. Anyways, I’m recalling a conversation we had I think...yes! Two days ago. You’re still thinking about going to therapy, right? You’re moving on from your designated therapy toad?”

Zuko fully turns to face Katara. He accidentally bumps his head on the roof, and proceeds to smack it. “First of all, what makes you say that? Second of all, you know Frank has a name!”

“Not your anger issues, of course.” She doesn’t miss his eye roll. “Also, when you gave me your phone so I could text your uncle that you were going to pick him up, I went through your Youtube search history. Because I care. You deserve better than boxed hair dye tutorials, Zuko. I know you can do better.” At the red light, she grabs Zuko’s shoulder in an almost caring manner. He slaps her tiny hand away.

Zuko was certain he was spending this 4/20 positively baked , so while he waited for everyone to wash their hands so they could whip up his favorite Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies edibles (with a gooey marshmallow middle), he took out his grinder from his hoodie’s pocket.

He grabs at the Sailor Moon bong he bought Katara for the one month anniversary of the time she saved him from being beaten to death by a group of frat brothers. She didn’t nearly like using marijuana as much her friends did, insisting on her maintaining her brain and lung health. She’d never admit to enjoying the cannabliss that came with huffing and puffing out some Mary Jane, but Zuko knows her sleepy smile after taking a hit lets her sleep just the slightest bit better.

Especially now that she’s working nonstop to pay off her tuition this semester. While Sokka was efficiently loaded, his record label was going through a rough patch after a scandal with one of their artists. Apparently, having viral toe sucking videos reflected badly on you as a person, and a number of investors pulled out after the news broke. Sokka was dipping into emergency savings, about to sell the Bugatti, but Katara insisted on taking on a few part time jobs. It breaks Zuko’s heart when he’s the first one to come home to her apartment, even after doing his runs for the night. She’s always blearly, insisting on taking a “quick nap” before she takes off her makeup. He likes feeling useful, when she instantly falls asleep and he’s the one using Micellar Water and a cotton pad to rub off her stubborn mascara of the day.

“I will literally curb stomp the Dean for you,” Zuko tells her, the fire behind his words that makes Katara doubt it was a passing joke.

“Zuko. No.”

He remembers being woken up in the middle of the night, Katara whispering into her phone. He invested in the Sailor Moon pipe after he found out she could only sleep a few hours, before being woken up abruptly from the stress weighing on her mind (her dark circles betrayed her). “I started seeing someone,” Katara mutters, checking over her shoulder to see if Zuko was still sound asleep. She started wincing at the palpable silence that followed.

“As in dating or hallucinations?” Sokka questions, much too loud for her taste.

She sighs. “Don’t get like this! He’s a good guy, I promise. His name’s Zuko.” She hears shuffling on the other side of the line, after the prominent thunk of the phone dropping. “Why does that name sound so familiar? And so colonizer-like…” His voice is filled with suspicion, and she could almost see the cogs in his brain whirring to life. Before she could utter another word, her brother abruptly yelps. “Isn’t he the drug dealer who got beat up on campus?”

Katara sucks in a breath. “How do you know about that?”

“I read the Campus Crime Alert emails the school sends out, idiot! For such an expensive school, you would think they would have better security and less laptop snatchings. By the way, we need to buy you a laptop lock. You still have that self defense knife I sent you?” Sokka angrily whispers in the phone, mocking Katara’s quiet tone.

“Yes, dad !” She hears his irate protests as she flips her body to face Zuko. He looks a few years younger when he sleeps, breathing even and face forgetting the patented scowl. His bare chest and sweatpants hanging low on his hips were enticing. His hair was almost perfectly positioned, the strands messy and unruly but just screamed Zuko . The dangly cross earring doing too much to her heart. Down girl, down! Katara tells her pussy. “Sokka, I swear! He’s not a drug dealer...he’s just an unlicensed pharmacist!”

“I have the email right here! Right here! And tell me what about ‘student being violently attacked due to drug related incidents ’ doesn’t scream drug dealer getting beat up for drug dealing !” Katara bites down on her tongue, whether to hold back a laugh or scream she wasn’t completely sure.

Suki takes a hit from her Hello Kitty dab pen, a white, bedazzled one that Zuko had gotten her. Toph and Katara also had matching Hello Kitty dab pens, in green and blue respectively. She thinks Zuko has one in red, too. She added a second layer of soy lecithin to the weed infused mixture, before popping it in the oven again for another 30 mins.

In the meantime, Katara was preparing the ingredients for the cookies. Zuko’s laying on the ground, narrowly missing the futon, eyes glazed over. He hasn’t moved in the past twenty minutes. “Katara, that isn’t the hand mixer, that’s your vibrator .” Suko gently chastises, moving the device from her lax hands. Katara always complained her hands were numb when she was high, and once dropped a mug from their balcony after they packed a bowl together for the first time. Suki is still bitter. It was her favorite Gudetama mug.

After freezing the mixture for two hours, Suki, Toph, and Zuko were hard at work, mixing ingredients, and preparing to get fucked up. A few people have stopped by the apartment to exchange plastic bags for cash.

“Are you turning Katara’s apartment into a dispensary? ” Toph is absolutely incredulous.

“That’s a loaded question with an answer very much open to interpretation…” Zuko ducks the house slipper Toph propels to his face.

Katara has a dumb smile on her face, wide and threatening to split her head open. She’s an avid texter when she’s baked.

Katara: What are you doing right now? Come over! Zuko’s got apology weed for you <3

Jet: I’m at McDonald’s!! Kinda of high lol

Katara: Ooo you got the munchies?

Jet: Nah

Katara: how come?

Jet: I smoke meth lmaoooo

“Who are you texting?” Zuko asks, plopping next to her spot on the floor. She’s sprawled out, hair every which way and tangling into already unruly knots he’s going to have to detangle in the morning for her. Because Katara’s a lightweight, and suffers from weed hangovers regularly. Zuko’s already recovered from his many hits at the Moon Stick pipe.

“Did you know Jet smokes meth?”

Zuko rolls his eyes, curling up and trapping Katara with his outstretched embrace. “I really thought he would like my I’m sorry weed.”

“Me too.” He kisses the pout off of her.

Katara steadily crawls up (Zuko doesn’t miss her sleep shorts riding up) and tries her best to help Toph mix the marshmallow and Cinnamon Toast crunch mixture being heated up in their big pot they stole from Katara’s neighbor.

When Katara grabs the hand mixer to try assisting the cookie batter, Zuko knew he had to intervene lest something explodes. She smiles when he surrounds her with his body, the warm weight of his chest against her back and his hand wrapping around hers on the mixing device.

He loves her, he’s sure. Even while they roll the cookies together she tries to be funny (when she clearly knows she isn’t) and throws the dough at him, and it lands in his hair. He’s sure she peed herself with how hard she was laughing and scrambling to find the bathroom when her eyes could barely open.

Zuko shuts down his phone when the sweet scent of the pastries flood his nostrils. Even if 4/20 is like his version of Christmas, he’s determined to spend it with his girl. “I think my pussy just gave out. That shit looks dank ,” Katara squeals, shaking Toph by the shoulders to emphasize her point.

“Thanks for the visual,” Toph says, looking devious and wholly prepared to get stoned.

“I could beat his ass if I needed to,” Katara loudly whispers in Suki’s ear. At this point, they were all laying down on the floor, the familiar tingle of an impending high at the forefront of their minds.

“Katara, you’re staring at a poster of 11 year old Frankie Muniz.” Suki shakes the girl off her. “Why do you always say that about any guy you see, sober or not?”

Zuko’s the most sober of them all, but based on the fact he killed a few joints on his own, he thinks he’s about to die. Toph’s on the balcony, weary of the smoke detector. She comes back in after repeatedly coughing, pounding at her chest to lessen the pain. She promptly lays on the floor with the rest of them, stupidly smiling.

Zuko sits, leaning on the futon for support. He pulls Katara into his lap, and she’s pliant, immediately melting in his hold. Hands coming out to wrap around his neck. “Check your school portal,” he says into her ear. She laughs at the sensation.

“Why?” She’s breathless, when he rubs comforting circles into her back. Zuko finds her phone, thrown carelessly on the futon, before gingerly handing it to her. After she types in the login information, she gasps, the sound reverberating through the room. Zuko blushes, and rubs the back of his neck gingerly.

“Happy 4/20, baby,” he presses a sweet kiss to her hair, wiping away the pricks of tears appearing at her eyes.

“ You’re lying !” She couldn’t believe her eyes, and thinks she’s a little dizzy from how many times she zooms in and out of the tuition financial statement. “You’re fucking lying!” The bill, formerly with a nauseating number of zeros was now only $0.00. “How?” she splutters, even spitting in her haste.

“Toph knew your portal login, so I just kind of...paid it off?” He’s doing the thing where he’s rubbing at his neck and looking shy, and so so positively adorable . The sheepish look he gives her makes it known that she was screwed . So absolutely in love. “I want you to not worry about it. Save the money from your job for something else.” The kiss she slams against his lips nearly knocks his breath away.

“So what’s your plan, after paying all this off?” Zuko remembered Toph asking, after she entered Katara's password.

“After this, she’s catching all this ball juice. Going to suck her eggs out her ovaries like it’s boba. I’ll even use the straw and everything,” Zuko says, entering the pin of his debit card.

“You know what. She should have let you die that night.”

“Who knew there would be perks to dating a drug dealer?” Toph teases. “Girls be so single and then boom ! Baby shower pictures with some drug dealer in a Burberry shirt and Nike Air Maxes.”

Suki groans. “Toph, I swear. You are a hindrance to society.”

“Well, you’re a cunt!”

She shoves the smaller girl. She gets up to face Katara, still staring at her phone in shock. Her hair is a bird’s nest after growing two sizes two large and painfully matted. “You know, we thought we were bad friends for letting you date a drug dealer with mommy and daddy issues. We just sat there and prayed that our ‘we’re so happy for you guys!’ was convincing. But, I kind of like him.”

“Thanks for the support,” Zuko grumbles.

“Anytime!” The two say, perfectly synchronized.

“Like MJ doctor, they killing me,” Zuko sighs, dropping his head in the crook of her neck, defeated. Katara’s heart nearly bursts because he’s so cute . A big bad drug dealer, but she still was squeezing at his cheeks like they were mochi, and he was dumbly smiling back.

“Why do you always quote Nicki Minaj lyrics when you’re high?” She thinks she can’t feel her face, the excessive smiling numbing her features.

He’s bombed, stomach growling from getting the munchies and devouring an entire box of Suki’s Wheat Thins cereal and he thinks he feels his heart about to explode. Whether it’s Katara’s sweet, sweet smile, or her body pressing to his, he’s not sure. She’s soft and perfect and everything he could have asked for. He’s sure he’s in love, the type of love that was dangerous and stupid and promised to consume him whole. Yet, he’s all but offered his heart on a silver platter to Katara. Her presence in his life was a constant he was willing to fight to keep.

“I love you,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I know.” She stares into his eyes, before grabbing his hand. “I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

She pokes his chest in protest.

“Say it again, please?” Zuko begs, voice whiny. Her kiss was an adequate confirmation of the sentiment.

#zutara fanfiction #zuko x katara #zuko #katara #zutara fanfic #zutara #atla

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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

Text

Spider-Verse (SWS #69)

Previously posted as KoFi Exclusive Fic

SUNDAYS WITH SPIDEYPOOL MASTERLIST HERE

*******************

“So this is your universe?” Miles peered up at buildings that were familiar but not quite right, at stores that had a letter or two off in their name, at colors that just felt off. “It seems dark.” “It’s not as bright as yours.” Peter kicked away a piece of trash as they passed an alley. “Not as clean cut as yours. And not as hopeful as yours, if I’m being honest. “Well, why not?” Miles ran his hand over faded graffiti on a wall, frowning over the dull colors and sloppy lines. “What’s so bad about this universe that everything is like this?” “Nothing’s bad about my universe.” Peter said irritably. “It’s just… different. Things are a little more serious. Not every situation can be defused by a witty one liner, I don't crack jokes after I get hurt. You know, people die and you don’t really get over it. Guilt never really leaves, it just sort of hurts a little less when the sun’s up. Heroes aren’t as good as you think they are, and bad guys aren’t all bad. The lines between right and wrong are a little more blurred over here and it's reflected--"

Peter waved his hands towards the sunset that wasn't as brilliant as Miles would have expected, the music from a store that sounded just half a step flat. "It's reflected in everything you see.”

“My dad would hate it.” Miles decided, wrinkling his nose at the smell of less than fresh food on display outside a corner shop. “He likes things black and white, right and wrong, good guys and bad guys.” “Your dad would hate it.” Peter confirmed. “But I’ve gotten used to it. Tell you the truth, I didn't even notice how off this one was until I ended up in your verse. Yours is so bright and well meaning and colorful, it makes my home seems like a less friendly version, but hey. It still needs a Spider-man, right? Even if my world considers me a menace to society, and your Peter Parker was a golden-boy." “So, if the lines are blurred in this verse--” Miles risked a glance up at Peter. “--are you really a good guy? Like my Peter Parker, he was a really good guy, right up to the end. Kept telling me it would be okay, gave me the courage to go on and do something with myself. Is that you too? Because when I met you, you seemed to hate being Spider-man and kept telling me to walk away." “Most days I’m a good guy.” Peter met his eyes steadily. “And most days I love being Spider-man, but I’ve been doing it for a long time, kid. And we might be heroes but we’re also human and we get tired." “What--what does that mean?” “It means--” Peter snatched a few apples and handed the vendor a couple dollars. “It means that sometimes you’ll run into people who are evil down to their core, and just breathing around them makes you sick. People who are so corrupt your skin will crawl and you’ll never feel clean again. And those people? You won’t want to save them. You’ll want to save everyone from them, and then leave the baddies to die because you know the world will be a better place without them." He took a big bite of the apple and added, “And those are the times where you know if you’re a good guy or not, Miles.” “...Have you left some baddies to die?” “I haven’t saved everyone I should have.” Peter said evenly, truthfully. “But I haven’t saved everyone I wanted to, either. It evens out in some shitty way." “Oh.” Miles took a bite of his own apple, chewing as he thought. “Your Uncle Ben, right? You didn't save him? I feel like all the Peter Parker's I've met, it's always an Uncle Ben" “I feel guilty about my Uncle Ben every day.” Peter tossed the apple up in the air and caught it again. “But I also know that what happened to him could have happened in any store on any corner in this city. And you’re right-- it’s almost always an Uncle Ben.” “Mine was Uncle Aaron.” Quietly, Miles copying Peter by tossing the apple into the air. “I feel guilty about that even though I don't think I should. He was a bad guy, you know. And bad guys deserve---" Miles coughed to clear his throat. "Was your Uncle Ben a good man? Or was he like-- was he like Uncle Aaron?" “Just because someone’s involved in a life of crime doesn’t mean they aren’t a good man.” When Miles looked up at him doubtfully, Peter shrugged. “Even mobsters go to church and give to the poor and kiss their moms. Wouldn’t you say that makes them good men?” “I think the murders over shadow it.” Miles pointed out. “Don’t you?” “Your Uncle Aaron loved you.” Peter switched directions and pulled his mask out of his pocket, securing it before thwipping a web up to the top of the building and starting to scale the wall. “He encouraged you and cheered you on and when it came time for him to obey his boss and hurt you? He walked away. He was a good man.” “...oh.” Miles stared up at the building for a minute, then thwipped his own web out and attached it to Peter’s butt, climbing up after him. “I don't want to talk about this anymore. Um, are you still into Mary Jane in this universe?” “We aren’t together anymore, no.” Peter scowled when his pants started slipping, and reached back to reattach Miles web to the building. “Not for a few years now.” “So I’m doomed to be single if I’m Spider-man?” It was Miles’ turn to scowl. “That doesn’t seem fair. I’m too young to give up on love! Plus, my mom says I'm cute. I don't want to be single and gloomy forever just because I can stick to things." “Well the gloomy comes and goes, but I never said anything about being single.” Peter chuckled. “And I might have given up on love there for a little bit, but it found me whether I wanted it or not.” “Uh--- that sounds ominous?” Miles offered. “So you’re in love? What’s her name?” “His name is Wade.” Peter climbed over the railing at the rooftop and reached down to help Miles up as well. “But he goes by Deadpool. He's a mercenary." “He's a mercenary?!” Mile’s eyes about popped out of his head when Peter jogged over to a man dressed in red and black spandex, sporting enough weapons to look like a character in those video games his mom didn’t let him play. “Sorry, you said he’s a merce--” He shut up when Peter ripped his mask off and jumped into the guy’s arms, then the guy tore his mask off and-- “Oh yikes that's--” Miles did a double take when he saw Wade's face. “--That’s unfortunate. What the heck happened there?” “Miles, this is Wade.” Peter brought the guy over to meet him and Miles stuck out his hand automatically, smiling as big as he could through his own mask and thankful that no one could tell he was still staring like a damn fool. “Wade, this is Miles. He’s one of the ones I met when the universe did that awful blippy thing? Remember?” “I definitely remember dis booty disappearing into a black hole, yeah huh.” Wade patted Peter’s ass, and Peter smacked his hand away, muttered, “For the love of god, behave.” “It’s uh-- It’s nice to meet you? Mr. Deadpool, sir?” Miles squeaked, trying not to gape at the scars and bumps and--seriously what was going on with this guy’s face? “My name is Miles Morales.” “What’s with you Spidey’s and not hitting puberty until your thirty?” Wade joked, elbowing Miles in a friendly fashion. “Don’t worry, Pete’s voice didn’t drop until just last year, it was like hanging out with one of the chipmunks until everything finally descended and it got deep--” “Miles is in highschool, babe.” Peter cut in, and Wade gasped. "And by the way, my voice didn't just drop last year, what the hell?"

Wade ignored Peter and clapped both hands onto Miles' cheeks, squishing them together. “Oh my god he’s a baby! Pete you brought me a baby-bug! Can we keep him! He’s so little! Look at his little suit and his tiny feet!" “Uh--” Miles tried to intervene. “Actually--” “I shall call him squishy.” Wade said solemnly. “And he shall be mine, and he shall be MY SQUISHY!" “Ummm---” “Oh I know!” Wade snapped his fingers. “I’ll get food! Kids like food right, that will make you trust me, right?” “What?!” “Alright, that’s enough of that.” Peter disengaged Wade and pushed Miles back a short distance. “Don’t mind him, he just has zero manners and some how even less tact. He’s nice though. Means well.” “He’s your….” Miles hesitated. “Life partner?” “Boyfriend.” Peter corrected. “About a year now. We run patrol together and eat junk food together and the sweatpants I was wearing when you met me? His.” “Which is why they were grey and terrible?” “Which is why they were grey and terrible.” Peter confirmed. “But don’t tell him that, he’s weirdly proud of those ratty things.” “So he--” Miles’s eyes lit up when Wade suddenly popped back up with bags of food. “Is that Mexican food?” “Piles of it.” Peter grinned. “Let me show you how we end most nights of patrol.” **************** **************** “So your universe isn’t all black and white.” Miles said thoughtfully, chowing down on his fourth burrito of the night. “Sometimes bad guys are good, sometimes good guys aren’t really heroes and apparently mercenaries are super chill if not a little weird?” “Super chill and a lot weird.” Peter winked over at Wade. “It’s not as hopeful and bright as your universe, but it has good sides.” “Hey, speaking of good sides, have you met my other person Wanda Wilson?” Wade asked curiously. “Busty blonde gal, rocks some red spandex like nobody’s business? I don’t want to scare you and say she’s terrifying, but Squishy Spidey, she is terrifying. But in like… a sweet sort of way.” “I-- I don’t know a Wanda Wilson.” “And you don’t want to.” Peter shook his head quickly. “If that particular spandex clad disaster shows up in your universe, just take the day off and move right on with your life.” “Pick my battles.” Miles stated, and then-- “Did he just call me Squishy Spidey?” “Yeah, good luck with that.” Peter said dryly. “Once Wade gives you a nickname, you’re stuck with it. I’ve been Peter Pumpkin Pie for about eight months now.” “Well as long as no one at school gets ahold of that nickname, we’re chill.” Miles laughed and Wade high fived him behind Peter’s back. “That’s the spirit.” he said confidently. “See? All Spidey’s think I’m great, just takes a little time to get used to my particular brand of charm!” “How long does it take?” Miles whispered, and Peter whispered, “I’ll let you know when it happens for me.” Miles just grinned, and went back to eating his burrito. Not all was bad in this verse.

*********************

@bethy-sue @thesmollestgay @babypinkbunny @lilwitchybee @kloudbby @shipeveryonetogether @shadowrayven @hausoffro @plutoisstillsalty @thereaderandwriterwithin @thecat-theparrot-theonion @zerokrox-blog @zuretha-metal @hurricanesass @tstilcr @ulnusilmukka @kahowl-knight @oswolfpack @larissaloki @stuckony-stank @blackhearted @iona-laia @itsallyd @youarenewformetoo @megahuffledor @starks-avengers @tabziecat @stitchinaride @ceealaina @cwar1864 @trinidaddee @emogoddess24 @my-drowning-in-time @pidgist @yukina64 @words-aremy-weapons @psychobitchgonepsycho @little-big-mac2 @multishippinglife @susana0 @paranormalmoonlight5 @lullilt @girlnic @vgurl18 @sw3etpotat0

#ncts fics #spideypool #spiderverse #peter b parker #miles morales #wade wilson

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mass-effect-tales · 4 years

Text

Sparks Fly ch. 5

Warning! Mentions of adult content are mentioned in this chapter! Read at your own risk!

The pounding of his head is what woke Decimus up. He groaned as he opened his eyes and artificial sunlight shone through the window and into his eyes. He rolled onto his other side and buried his face into a pillow.

A pillow that smelled like metal and lilies.

Deft fingers run along his fringe as his mouth plates brushed against a soft neck, inhaling the scent of metal and lilies.

Decimus quickly sat up at the memory, groaning as the sudden movement made his hangover worse. A quick look around showed him that he wasn't in the hotel room he booked. The room was as messy as a minimally furnished room could be; a few clothes on the floor, a table against the wall with metal parts and tools scattered across the surface. Decimus noticed a couple of items on the nightstand next to the bed and picked up a picture frame.

The photo showed Kiara with much shorter hair, more in line with usual military standards, standing with a taller woman in a similar uniform. Both were saluting and smiling pinned to Kiara's uniform was a medal he'd never seen on Alliance soldiers. It was a purple similar to his markings and the medal itself was shaped like a heart.

He was so focused on the medal it took him a moment to notice the Kiara in the photo was holding crutches and her right pant leg was pinned up due to her missing leg.

"That was taken two years ago when I was discharged from the hospital after recovering from that landmine."

Decimus jumped and looked over at the doorway where Kiara was leaning against the door frame. She had pulled her hair back into a messy bun and was wearing a new Alliance uniform. She smiled at Decimus and walked over, holding out a glass of water and a bottle of medicine that Decimus knew right away was dextro based painkillers.

"As tempting as it would be to watch you lay in my bed longer, I'll be shipping out in a few hours and I don't know when I'm coming back." Her smile faltered as Decimus took the painkillers and downed half the glass of water. He could barely remember what happened last night. Judging by waking up without clothes and with a pounding headache he could estimate they probably slept together but he couldn't remember the details.

"Hey Kiara, do you remember what happened last night? I remember ordering drinks but the rest is blurry."

Kiara chuckled, surprising him by moving to straddle his lap.

Kiara moaned as she rode him. He let his claws trace her spine which made her back arch as she moaned his name.

Decimus shivered at the memory as Kiara wrapped her arms around his neck. He placed his hands on her hips and let out a content purr when she ran her fingers under his fringe.

"My memory is a little fuzzy but I definitely remember you leaving me unable to move for a few hours afterwards." Kiara snickered when she heard a stutter in his purring. Her smile fell a bit as she fell silent.

"Listen, I don't know what to call this but if you're ever on the Citadel again I'd like to do this again."

Decimus grinned and leaned forward to nuzzle her neck, chuckling when she gasped after giving her neck a playful nip.

"I've been looking at a job on the Citadel for a while now so I'd definitely not complain if this happened again."

Kiara grinned and trailed her nails over the back of his head in a way that had his groin plates shifting.

"Unless you want a torn uniform you might wanna stop now." He mumbled against her neck, enjoying her shiver as his breath ghosted across her skin.

"Just giving you something to remember me by," she mumbled, reluctantly pushing herself up and off him. She pulled up her omni-tool and sent him the code to her apartment door. "Here's the code to my apartment, make sure to lock up when you leave."

Decimus nodded, getting up to get dressed as Kiara smoothed out her uniform and grabbed her duffle bag. She gave Decimus another smile before heading out of her room and out of her apartment, calling Anderson to let him know she was on her way to the Normandy.

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

"I have a bad feeling about this. You know how my feelings are Jane." Kiara leaned against the lockers while Shepard changed into her armor. "Last time I had a bad feeling I had two legs."

Shepard chuckled as she grabbed her pistol and strapped it to her hip.

"It's just a quick check and we'll be back. Plus we'll have Nihlus down there too."

Kiara huffed, still not liking the idea of Shepard going planetside with just Alenko and Jenkins. She wanted to go with her but Anderson wanted her to train Adams to be the chief engineer in her place.

"Fine but if anything happens you owe me an "I told you so" lunch when we get back to the Citadel."

Shepard laughed as they walked to the elevator. "Fine but it's just a quick mission, what could go wrong?"

"I'm pretty sure my mom said the same thing when my dad didn't wear a condom on their wedding night."

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

Shepard groaned as she woke up in the med bay. The last thing she remembered was pushing Kaiden out of the way of the beacon and seeing a flash of images in her head.

"I knew I should have gone with! I swear Kaiden if she doesn't wake up I'll end you!"

"Miss Odell I'll ask you to refrain from verbally assaulting Mr Alenko in my med bay."

Shepard slowly sat up to see Kiara glaring at Kaiden. As soon as she noticed Shepard was awake she ran over to her side.

"You alright Janey? You had all of us worried."

"All of us or just you?"

"Mostly me but that's not the point."

Kiara helped Shepard slowly stand up and helped her out of the med bay after getting cleared by Chakwas.

"We're heading back to the Citadel to talk to the council about what happened. They'll be sending Nihlus and Jenkins' bodies back to their families."

Shepard felt a lump form in her throat. She couldn't help but think of she insisted Nihlus stay with the group or had Kiara join the team then maybe they'd both be still alive.

"Alright, I'll take Kaiden and Ashley with me to confirm what we saw." Shepard sat down and let Kiara make her a cup of tea.

"I'm coming with this time. I love you Janey but I'm not letting you outta my sight for a few days."

Shepard couldn't help but laugh as Joker's voice announced they'll be reaching the Citadel in a few hours.

"Fine just try not to curse out the council or anything."

"No promises."

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

Decimus watched as Garrus paced back and forth waiting for commander Shepard to arrive. While he admired Garrus's stubbornness he didn't see how the commander would help when the report they heard said she never witnessed Saren herself.

"Garrus! I knew I'd find you here." Executor Pallin approached the two men with a scowl on his face. Decimus groaned and watched the two argue. His attention was soon drawn to a group approaching the courtyard. He couldn't help a pleased hum from escaping his throat when he saw Kiara approaching along with Shepard and two other humans. Garrus quietly growled as Pallin left but quickly calmed down when he noticed Shepard approaching. He could see Kiara looked tense but when she noticed Decimus he could see her relax just a bit, giving him a slight smile.

"Commander the council is waiting for us," Kaiden piped up. He could almost feel Kiara glaring at him. Ever since returning from the last mission Kiara has been sticking to Shepard's side and would glare at him if he even looked Shepard's way.

"Right," Shepard looked over at Kiara, noticing her and Decimus looking at each other. "Kiara, why don't you stay here."

Kiara whipped her head to look at Shepard. "Not happening with Alenko with you."

Shepard could almost feel Kaiden's indignation and raised a hand to signal him to calm down. "It'll be quick and I know you haven't eaten anything since I woke up so grab something to eat and we'll meet back up after the meeting."

Kiara was about to protest when Decimus placed a hand on her shoulder.

"C'mon, there's a place nearby I think you'll like."

Kiara let Decimus lead her away while Garrus went to follow another lead he had.

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

"So then Alenko comes in carrying Jane and tells us Jenkins was killed by the geth, Saren murdered Nihlus and something happened to Jane thanks to that damn Prothean beacon!" Kiara explained as she finished her third burrito. She didn't care if Decimus watched her stress eat; she was worried about everything that happened with Shepard and the mission.

"Wow, what's going to happen now?" Decimus asked as he took a bite of his dextro version of a burrito. It was a different taste than what he was used to but it wasn't bad, he'd have to look for more human inspired dishes.

"No idea, that's why Jane went to see the council," Kiara was about to take a bite of her nachos when she noticed Shepard approaching with Garrus, a krogan and a quarian behind her. "Speak of the devil and she'll come with a possy."

Decimus turned to look, raising an eyebrow plate at Garrus who looked way too smug.

"Kiara, Gaius, head to the Normandy. I've been given Spectre rank and we're going after Saren."

Decimus and Kiara stared at each other confused for a few moments after Shepard passed by before shooting out of their chairs, making sure to grab the rest of their food as they chased after Shepard."

"Hold up Janey! You can't just drop that and walk away like a hump and dump!"

#fanfic #mass effect #mass effect oc #sparks fly #spicy

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i-am-church-the-cat · 5 years

Text

Unbreakable

I’m a sad potato so I wrote a fic about post-party Tyrus

***

How was the rest of the party?

Cyrus’s grin was impossibly wide when he saw the text. The text from his boyfriend.

Andi dropped a pretty big bomb on us

You gonna be okay?

Cyrus smiles at TJ’s (Thelonius Jagger’s!) concern.

Yeah

***

“Hey!”

Cyrus turned to see TJ jogging up to him.

“Hey!”, he called back as the other boy came up beside him. It was two days after the party and the first time he was seeing TJ since then.

“So I was wondering…”, TJ began.

“Yeah?”, Cyrus urged.

“You wanna go out with me Friday?”, TJ rushed out. Cyrus smiles fondly at the clearly nervous boy. Instead of answering, he held his hand out, and open invitation. TJ looked form the hand to him and grinned brightly as he slotted their hands together.

They made their way to The Spoon hand-in-hand.

***

TJ stood nervously on the porch of Cyrus’s—his boyfriend’s—mom’s house. They were already together but this was their first date and he couldn’t help worrying over every detail. His worries flew out his head when the door opened.

“Hey”, the literal embodiment of the word beautiful said as he stepped out onto the porch.

“Hey, hey, hi. You—Are you ready to go?”, TJ stuttered out, blushing furiously. Cyrus’s small smile grew wider.

“Absolutely.”

TJ grinned brighter and slipped his hand into his boyfriend’s before leading him away from the house. They chatted softly as they walked.

“So”, Cyrus eventually said, drawing it out. TJ already knew what he was going to ask. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, Underdog.”

“Yeah, ok, but like. You couldn’t give me a little hint?”

TJ continued to smile, refusing to budge. Not even Cyrus’s puppy dog eyes was going to get him to spill. Cyrus eventually started to guess and TJ was soon laughing heartily as the suggestions got wilder and wilder. They eventually came upon their destination.

“What is the place?”, Cyrus asked as they got closer. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Trust me”, TJ said. “You’ll love it.”

The bell rang above the door as they walked in and the woman at the counter looked up. She gave a big smile when she saw who it was.

“Well, if it ain’t our favorite patron”, she called. “And his friend.”

“Hey, Luce”, TJ called, walking up to the desk. “This is Cyrus. Cyrus this is Lucy, she runs the place.”

“Oh, so you’re Cyrus”, Lucy said grinning slyly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things I hope”, Cyrus replied, chuckling.

“I guess y’all are here for the dinosaur exhibit”, Lucy said pulling away to fish for something under the counter.

Cyrus’s head snapped to TJ who hadn’t turned to face him but grinned at the face he saw from his peripheral.

“Exhibit?”, Cyrus asked.

“This is a museum hun”, Lucy replies chuckling. She drew out to passes and handed them to TJ who tried to pay but was quickly ushered away.

“No need for that, Kippen. You two love birds just go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

Both boys flushed at her words.

“Thanks Luce.”

Lucy waved away TJ’s reply. TJ led down a one way hallway with an elevator at the end. Cyrus started to talk as they waited for it.

“I can’t believe you knew about a museum that I didn’t”, Cyrus said.

TJ shrugged, proud that he surprised him. “My dad and I are history buffs. He showed me this place. Been coming here since I was four.”

The elevator dinged open and Cyrus jumped as a soft ‘meow’ cane from below. On the floor of the elevator was an old tabby cat, reclining like she owned the place.

“Hey Jane”, TJ said, stepping into the elevator. The cat gave another meow in acknowledgment as the two boys got on and the elevator started to slide upward.

With the size of the front room, Cyrus didn’t know what he was expecting. But when the elevator stopped, it opens up into this large room filled with exhibits and plaques. Cyrus gaped in awe as TJ led the way, pointing out and explaining things they saw. TJ knee even more information then the plaques did and Cyrus reveled in the way his boyfriend showed him something he loved.

Eventually, they made their way down a flight of steps that opened up into a basement level area.

“This is where all the borrowed exhibits are”, TJ explained as the stepped onto the floor.

The entire thing was one dinosaur exhibit, filled with bones and diagrams and models. Cyrus didn’t ware time, hurrying to an exhibit and rambling to TJ all about it. They spent about as much time there as they did everywhere else.

Cyrus blinked hard at the sun when they finally stepped outside. They had exhausted every inch of the museum, but Cyrus was far from ready for this date to be over.

“You hungry?”, TJ asked, not ready for the day to end either. Cyrus smiles and nodded eagerly, taking his hand again before pulling him in the direction of The Spoon.

***

“Mom and Dad want Cyrus over for dinner.”

The crew had learned about Amber and TJ being siblings at the party. It had been a surprise and yet, strangely made sense. It was still weird to see them acting so familially, though.

“Why?”, Andi asked. They were all eating at The Spoon, Buffy and Marty and TJ and Cyrus presses against each other along with Jonah and Andi.

“Official meeting of the boyfriend”, Amber, TJ, and Jonah answered at the same time.

“What?”, Buffy asked chuckling.

“It’s a tradition at the Kippen house”, TJ explained. “They did it with Jonah when he and Amber started dating, and now they want to do it for me.”

“Should I be nervous?”, Cyrus asked, clearly starting to get nervous.

“No.”

“Of course not.”

“Yes.”

TJ and Amber glared at Jonah.

“Jonah’s scared about all relationship things”, Amber said. “Our parents love you, Cy, you have nothing to worry about except my mom trying to get you to crochet with her.”

“I love to crochet”, Cyrus said cheerily.

“And that’s another reason why you’re perfect”, TJ responded.

Amber rolled her eyes before asking, “So?”

“Oh, I’ll ask my parents, I should be fine sometime this weekend.”

“Cool”, Amber said. “I should get back to work. I’ll get you guys some more baby taters.”

The kids all waved goodbye and fell back into conversation.

***

“Three inches!”, TJ’s dad called up as the boys made their way to TJ’s room. Cyrus flushed and TJ shook his head, shouting back an affirmative.

They stepped into the room and TJ closed the door part way before bringing Cyrus close and kissing him. Cyrus was a little surprised but soon relaxed, wrapping his arms around TJ’s neck.

It wasn’t their first kiss, that had been done a few weeks ago when Cyrus had gotten tired of waiting for TJ to kiss him and had just pulled him off the swing and into it. It had been quick and awkward but it was theirs in their place and they wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

“TJ”, Cyrus giggled as they broke apart.

“Sorry”, TJ said with a huge grin. He didn’t look very apologetic. “I’ve just been wanting to do that all night.”

Cyrus shook his head and pecked him again before going and flopping onto his boyfriend’s bed.

TJ had the comfiest bed in existence, with dozens of pillows and blankets covering every inch. TJ watched in amusement as Cyrus wrapped himself up into a burrito.

“You’re only dating me for my bed, aren’t you?”, TJ joked, grabbing his computer and climbing in besides his boyfriend.

“No”, Cyrus replied. “I’m in for the hoodies, too.”

TJ shook his head before setting up Netflix on his computer. He started some cheesy romcom he knew Cyrus would like and snuggled up next to the brunette.

As they watched, Cyrus snuck his hand out from the cocoon and TJ instantly took it. Ever since the party, they held hands whenever they could. They both knew being out and together would be hard during high school. But they were in it together.

Unbreakable.

#andi mack #tyrus #am spoilers #(just in case)

37 notes · View notes

kelkat9 · 5 years

Note

4 x Rose

I’m thinking you mean 4 and Rose for all yes?

Okay, so to be honest, I really ship Four with Romana so himwith Rose is a bit different for me.

who hogs the duvet

Since I tend to view Four as more asexual, Rose is theblanket burrito and he wanders in to ramble on about whatever new place he’staking her. He’s privately amused at her contortions as she windsblankets in sheets in what he believes are cocoons like certain planets heintends to take her to

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

He refuses to use a mobile. It frustrates Rose to noend. She continues to call him antiquated which leads to discussionsabout how on the Planet Barilliam they communicate through sentient slime blobsthat migrate back and forth between or amongst those in a discussion. Rose lets it go for a while after he offers to show her

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

Gifts are rare and almost un-giftsif that’s possible. She’s landed withhim through a glitch in her dimension cannon. He’s charmed and intrigued by her probing her with subtlequestions. She knows so much about what’scoming for him and it’s hard to keep quiet. She releases tidbits but never enough to give him too muchknowledge. Thus, gifts are hard oneanswers to questions. Like who Romanais. How he got K-9. It’s a game with small victories. His is learning about the dimension cannonand Rose letting slip bits about his TARDIS who participates in her own quirkyway.

who gets up first in the morning

The Doctor is always up. Sleep is such a waste of time but she’s humanand he endures. Besides it gives himtime to play multi-dimensional chess with K-9 and perfect his skills.

who suggests new things in bed

Since they aren’t sexual, theclosest they get to this is him testing her with different beds to test herability to sleep in. Rose has an amazingability to sleep amongst the oddest conditions, a skill she learned with her firstDoctor. Her current Doctor is perplexedand wants to study it. Usually by pokingher during sleep until she threatens his jelly baby supply.

who cries at movies

Rose does. He remainsdisaffected from tears although outrage he does quite well. Along with a trip to whatever planet toeducate the writer on how wrong he got it.

who gives unprompted massages

The Doctor remembers all too well the wear and tear on SarahJane and how she often limped around his TARDIS. One might say, Sarah Jane broke him in onhuman needs like running oneself into blistering feet and cramping calves. Thus, without prompting, he’d order Rose tosit while he gave her the most delightful foot and calve massage. Of course, this was mainly to get her to gooff on a new adventure. Resting was forboring people.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

This Doctor gets the sniffles. Rose would call it man flu but since he’dchastise her about being a Time Lord, she calls it Time Lord Plague. He sputtered at the phrase insisting TimeLords most certainly were too superior to achoo! She nodded and gave him a yes Doctor whilehanding him tea.

who gets jealous easiest

The Doctor is jealous of Rose’ssecrets. He knows she’s from his futureand knows more than she’s telling. Itirks him because he’s developed affections for her. And his TARDIS wellll that is a wholedifferent ball of temporal annoyance. There’sa connection to his ship. HIS. And he can’t suss out how and why. Nothing drives him like a good mystery andshe’s the biggest mystery of all. Andhis future self is the only one will get all the answers and he stews over itconstantly.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

Rose groans at his taste inmusic. He’s so into shrieking alienopera by some species that sounds like a mix of whales and something like anorc from Lord of the Rings. She swearshe’s doing it on purpose in the hopes she’ll let some tidbit about the futureslip. The TARDIS slips her earplugs.

who collects something unusual

The Doctor has rooms of collections,hall after hall and box after bin. Andit’s a disaster of junk. She doesn’tknow how Sarah Jane dealt with it and promises herself to catch up with herfriend and hug her. His careless, Rose,I need the Quixanol wax, the red not the yellow and avoid the purple at allcosts. It’s back in storage…three rightturns, one flight of stairs and well you’ll figure out the bin system. It’s very organized. Rose could argue that but it would take farmore time than just finding the bloody wax and thus she forges ahead on an adventureshe hopes the TARDIS will help her through.

who takes the longest to get ready

Rose knows it drives him to amumbling and shouting fit how long it takes her to get ready. But she has to be prepared for anything likeher dimension canon suddenly working or seeing some sign of the multi versaldisaster that requires her to take action. Besides, she’s rather fond of his huffing, sniffing and general grousingand lecturing. He’s so different fromeither of her Doctors and she rather enjoys poking at his arrogant TimeLordiness.

who is the most tidy and organized

Weirdly Rose. She never thought she’d see the day she wasmore orderly than anyone but he’s the most absent minded, just toss it overthere person she’s ever met. Oh, if hermum could only see her now. Next to this Doctor, she was neat as a pin. Whichshe wasn’t, of course.

who gets most excited about the holidays

Not much holiday enjoying with thispair. Rose does point out every holidayon each world they visit. He’s more bahhumbug to it’s just a social construct. Rose dives in anyhow. He toleratesher need to be glittery and festive and one time, he even sprinkled alienglitter on her, just so they fit in.

who is the big spoon/little spoon

They don’t sleep together but if theydid, Rose had no doubt she’d be the big spoon. Mainly after one adventure that reminded the Doctor of someone calledOmega. A nasty piece of work that oneand Rose had the feeling, he needed a bit of reassurance.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

The Doctor refuses to lose. No matter if it’s a death sentence. He does not care. Rose considers it a huge Time Lord flaw. Needless to say, his ha! In victory is oftenfollowed by running or breaking out of some execution ceremony.

who starts the most arguments

The Doctor usually starts the argumentswith pretty much everyone. Rose is thepeacemaker which he does not appreciate. Most of their arguments are over her past and future and the Doctor’sfuture. He claims he doesn’t want to knowand can’t know but deep down, Rose thinks he feels the reverberations of theTime War and it has him on edge. Itmanifests in arguments.

who suggests that they buy a pet

No need to buy a pet, they have K-9who is quite fond of his Mistress.

what couple traditions they have

Given the short time they havetogether, the only traditions they have are tea and TARDIS repairs. Rose is particularly good at sensing when theDoctor is close to fixing a problem even if she can’t verbalize what theproblem is. Many evenings she spends inthe console room with their version of Hot and Cold.

what tv shows they watch together

The Doctor disdains television. However, Rose has interested him in him someAgatha Christie shows. This leads todiscussions about her books and how she got it all wrong which Rose rolls hereyes at.

what other couple they hang out with

There was one time they went toGallifrey. Rose was nervous, on edge andespecially as other Time Lords stared at her and whispered. Apparently, she oozed some sort of timewarning that Time Lords were drawn to in a I must solve this mystery way. Rose just called it Time Catnip to which theDoctor grimaced and mumbled. They endedup meeting up with Leela and her husbandAndred who was sort of boring. Roseshove him off on the Doctor who seemed intent on ripping apart anything Andredsaid while she and Leela discussed life on the TARDIS. This was one of the few times Rose broke herown rule on not talking about future events. She slipped a note to Leela with instructions she could only open itoutside of the city, in private and several months after Rose had left. It was one warning. Daleks protect the Doctor.

how they spend time together as a couple

Rose wasn’t sure what theywere. Friends for sure, allies, partnersbut couple seemed odd. But they were oddher and this Doctor. She loved him as hewas her Doctor, even in this incarnation she saw the same person. Except this love was more about loving eachother with an intellectual appreciation, an affection that wasn’t so muchholding hands as it was bumping shoulders, quite bickering and laughing. There was an easiness to it without theintensity of her first to Doctors and the heavy hormonal attraction. She liked it and wondered if this is whatbeing and old married couple was like.

who made the first move

There wasn’t really a first move. She tumbled into his TARDIS, dimension canon,arton energy and a good dose of void stuff setting off alarms. The only move she made was into his TARDISuntil it was time for her to leave. He grumblinglyaccepted mainly out of curiosity and the fact his TARDIS acted different withRose on board. Affection and respectquickly followed.

who brings flowers home

Flowers are too human. He brings her science projects. Rose, look at these algae infused organicbubble stones. Or help me catch the Azzizspores, they might infest us. Nothinglike colony of spores looking for a host to bring a couple together.

who is the best cook

Alas, Rose is not much a cook. The Doctor is. Chef de Cuisine of Galllifrey and many otherworlds. He even has a chef’s hat he pullsout as he lectures her on puff pastry and the chemistry involved in the perfectCiabata.

Thank you for asking!

#meme #Fourth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Four x Rose #timeladyelpia

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rowanartist · 4 years

Text

Fan fiction quotes 2019:

"with great foods, came great emotional baggage"[X]extra funny since I just saw Into the Spiderverse

"Just get together every couple of weeks, without Stark, and you guys can pass Steve around like a bong."[ch2]whaat? And chapter three is a dirty parody - worth a read for the humor of it

"he just hopes Tony has the sense God gave concussed baby sheep "[X]interesting phrase

"“Science,” Jane says, drawing his face to hers, “Does not require pants "[X]fun series of short fics

"Never something so hot; not like a flame is hot, but the strength of something bathed in summer sun. "[X]interesting view on attraction

"(He'd been sketching when he thought that through; now there's a page that has a little cartoon of himself, ducking, with the caption "the spoons are attacking!" although he'd ended up finishing his latte before he actually drew any flying spoons.) "[X]Steve upon learning about spoon theory

"Can you think of anything that symbolizes the eighties better than David Bowie’s crotch in tights? "[X]giggle out loud! "You drink once if someone whines, if Sarah says something isn’t fair, or if we get a shot of Bowie’s crotch. "[Same]comment

"“Like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin?” Natasha finished for him, understanding. Sometimes, after what they’d been through, it was hard just to be in your body. Easier to dissociate, to let whatever was going to happen happen while the part of you that was you floated far away. Natasha had been there before, and she knew James went there sometimes. "[X]ponder?

"They’re each wrapped up in their own blanket burrito, lying side by side in the dark, sharing one pillow. "[X]dual blanket burritos

"For most of his life he learned the safest option was to repress his emotional responses as much as possible, and over time he forgot how to access them when he actually needed to. "[X]relatable to a small degree

"Nothing too special but I’m pretty much Michael Bay’s wet dream "[X]to describe bakugo lol

"Most people," Midoriya continued gently, "don't need to be told they have a crush by the person that they have the crush on."[X]my boyfriend can relate to Midoriya here...

"about how if Midoriya could go this long talking without breathing in any new air, he'd probably be really good at kissing. "[same]lol

"God, fuck off. You look so freshly screwed that it hurts me. "[X]Bakugo ;p

"After all, shodō is one of Shouto’s hobbies. For Midoriya’s birthday last year, he made a beautiful poster of UA’s motto that is now displayed prominently above Midoriya’s bed. "[X]draw? If i can? "Please don’t use your All Might voice when we’re making plans to have sex. "[Same]lol

"He’d known for a while that his boyfriend internalizes, that he still struggles with a lot of insecurities and periodic depression from his years around his dad "[X]comment

"Shouto you’re worth more than anything. And you deserve happiness. I don’t care what micro-dick has said to you in the past or any shit he spews out of the mouth that’s somehow more obnoxious than Present Mic "[same]dam it Endeavor :/ "You’re a dork,” Izuku mutters in a break for breath. “Your dork,” Shouto says quietly "[Same]awww

"But if you ever forget your phone again I will use you as an advertisement balloon for a day, and that’s a promise."[X]lol

"First of all, I challenge you to find a dress that can fit that shoulders to waist ratio.” Shouto replied, matter-of-factly, pointing at Izuku’s entire body. “Secondly, you absolutely lack the manners to be a princess, you brute.” "[X]part of a series

"Another young woman that couldn’t be older than Shouto and Izuku looked up at the call. She had a round face and long, brown hair with little orange streaks every now and then collected in a braid. The red rimmed glasses she wore made her yellow eyes look bigger, behind the lenses. She lit up, when she saw them. "[X]need to try to draw

"You’d die of embarrassment— Either that, or Aizawa-sensei would kill you. And I kind of like you alive, thank you very much.” "[same]LOL

" is standing there in grey sweats and a loose Totoro hoodie he got him on one of their first dates "[X]draw

"It definitely didn’t help that Izuku stretched lazily, something akin to a cat just waking up from a nap, one of his legs stretching against the wall as the opposite arm reached towards Shouto with fingers spread wide-open. "[X]DRAW!

"What? They’re really short, all my boxers showed and it was weird. "[X]...

"Just because he isn’t as obvious about it, doesn’t mean Shouto isn’t beyond anxious too. "[X]comment

"He doesn’t treat Shouto like he is fragile, but he treats him like he is precious, and that is an important distinction"...."Something precious, however, doesn’t necessarily break easy, but it warrants the utmost care. It’s meant to be cherished. "[X]relationship advice

"One of the national dishes has no meat in it, but it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever tasted. I thought we were all going to die and T’Challa was going to succeed in eliminating us. Then I heard him yelling at the chef, saying none of us were used to Wakandan peppers.” "[X]https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688724/chapters/19918951#workskin

"All Tony was supposed to do was fix the alternator. Instead he built me a Jeep that tells me I have to initiate a proper launch sequence before I’m able to turn it on and drive.” "[Same]comment

"I’m sorry,” Midoriya retracts his hand, and Todoroki misses it instantly. “It’s not something I can fix, and that makes me sad. You don’t deserve to hear the things he tells you.” "[X]reread comment. Relatable to a degree personally

"But he has to admit the Docs greener side is awfully useful in a brawl; and his less menacing side has a wicked sense of humor, not to mention awfully good with a med kit. "[X]i like Bruce having a sense of humor

"That's what friends are for anyway, having your back when times are tough, and amusement for when times are peaceful. "[X]amusing

"Bucky didn't think he was being rude, but if Captain America said so, it must be true. "[Same]comment

"Steve’s always been a fan of cuddles, even if he doesn’t like to admit it, admit how much he needs that physical contact. "[X]I'm a fan of this concept

"Which in Steve-speak means that you’re feeling guilty as all hell over things you can’t control – again, mind you – and you can’t rest because you can’t shut your brain up.” "[Same]relate "There’s power in this act, Darcy thinks as she sucks and licks up and down his length. To be able to take someone apart with just her mouth and a few touches of her hands. Reduce them to tears or send them flying upwards into the heavens. And the knowledge that she wants to do this for him – for them – makes the feeling all the more potent. She doesn’t have to do this, but it’s her choice, and she wants to give this to them. "[Same]ponder more

"She may not come from it, but the closeness and the intimacy is far more important than any orgasm. "[X]remember

"He knows better, knows that Bakugou’s punches of greeting and movie nights at Yaoyorozu’s house with Mina, Hagakure, and Tsu, and that baking with Izuku are all love. That’s love, not the villain sat behind the desk. "[X]dark fic, author warns in notes. But this line is sweet

"Natasha Romanoff is a world-class spy, yes. But she’s also a potato chip thief who makes dumb jokes and uses emoticons (she had been very adamant that Steve learn the difference between emoticons and emojis), and Steve adores her for it. "[ch5]she's human

"Bucky flopped onto it rolling around like a dog on the soft surface, Natasha quietly responding by taking out her phone and videoing his nonsense. "[ch2]Mr. Kate style rug cuddle but solo

"“First of all, just because someone is good looking does not mean I should have sex with them. There are attractive serial killers Nat, do you want me to get murdered? Second of all, I don’t know him. Third of all, he’s not looking at me like I’m chicken wings, also Clint, seriously? Chicken wings?” "[same]lol, but I'm with you Bucky

"Even in just plain sweatpants, the American icon without a shirt was an image that would have anyone seeing stars and stripes, regardless of sexual orientation. "[X]:)

"Agent Bishop was hit with a biological weapon today that has a ninety-two per cent chance of ending in fatality within three days unless proper care is administered to disperse the chemical compound through natural methods. Meaning, in the case of humans, sexual release. As in, orgasming."[X]a legalese description of "sex pollen" ...

"Do the horizontal contra dance, yes," Darcy answered. "Well kind of, I mean there's only three of us and a contra dance is four to a group, but tango is just for two and I had to think of something fast. Come on, Stevie, this isn't the first time we've hooked up. "[X]lol

"He wanted something just for him again, even though he felt like a selfish asshole for even thinking it. So he would do whatever he could to chase after that feeling. Even if it was stupid. Even if it was silly. "[ch2]advice, remember "Tony must never read these, Steve thought. Bucky’s arm would never be safe. "[ch3]Steve Discovers FanFiction "Steve stayed focused on the screen, sticking out his tongue a little while he concentrated. It was unfairly adorable. "[ch4]Jarvis knows how to motivate Steve: a Bucky themed typing game "Good things would happen. Funny, clever jokes would be told. Sexy adventures were always available, no matter what was happening in the real world. "[X]relatable "There was even a page of ‘Bucky Approved Sex Words and Phrases’. The name alone never failed to make Steve smile "[ch7]lol "He wasn’t really writing this stuff for the money anyways; mostly he just wanted to see that other people liked and enjoyed what he was doing. "[Same]relatable: my redbubble rowan-artist

"Darcy’s eyes widened. “Oh god, I just imagined you naked, dusted in gold, on a satin-sheeted bed. My mind is a dangerous place.” “Hey, there’s always Halloween.” "[ch6]you being Steve

"Jane was rapidly nearing the angry-bear stage of sleep deprivation (there were seven levels on the Dr. Jane Foster Sleep Deprivation chart; angry bear was number five, between 'genius-level insane productivity' and 'sugar high five-year old'), "[X]also Dean Fury ... "Then you come to me, we'll kill a bottle of Jameson and make Thor carry our drunk asses home while we sing Les Mis horribly off-key," "[same]amusing

"This is why you should always read end-user agreements on friendships. "[X]not the fic but the start notes, lol. Also, Maria's entry is adorable, and Pepper potts!! "(“So what you’re telling me is you spent a week building a glorified roomba,” Rhodey says the first time he sees it, and Tony lets out an undignified huff and makes JUNK-E destroy and clean a grand piano.) "[Same]hahha

"And it’s better to be an asset, which at least sounds like something you value, than a glorified action figure. "[ch3]comment "Steve’s friendship is stronger than even Steve’s shield, and protects them both just as much "[Same ch9]awww

"Bucky actually is, but she knows well enough not to ask. Instead, she has started braiding flowers into Natasha's hair while the other girl of the group is busy making a flower crown for Thor. This is what it must be like to have real friends, Bucky thinks, lounging in his camping chair, trying to eat with one hand while Steve is holding his arm, drawing on the inside of his forearm with a black pen. "[ch2]flower crowns "I heard a lot of things I kind of projected on myself. It's probably stupid, but… it's always crazy to hear things that apply to oneself somehow." "It's the magic of music. Sam once told me about the Mr. Brightside effect–" "[ch4]yes "Bruce is on his own so much that he probably doesn't even notice that he has friends "[ch5]relatable, high school me

"The most beautiful thing however was the wall right next to the bed-- while all the other walls were the same off-white color, this one sported stripes of different colors down. Blue, red, green, purple, black, another shade of lighter blue. In the middle of these stripes, the Avenger signs were painted by a meticulous hand; Cap’s shield, Tony’s arc reactor, Mew Mew, and so on-- Darcy didn’t notice she was crying into Mara started wailing in solidarity "[ch1]draw?

"He knows it, like Steve and Bucky know that Tony needs praises and affection, not commands. "[ch8]...

"She thanked Sif (a habit she had started lately, thanking the Asgardian warrior instead of some non-present God, because really, if there was a god she wanted to follow, it would totally be Sif) "[X]nice Darcy "Even if she wasn’t an Avenger per say, she got to be on the team, both super and nonsuper alike. "[ch2]awww

"Elizabeth is going to make coffee happen, and in Darcy’s eyes that makes her a goddess. "[X]comment "By the end, Steve had been right in the thick of it, using a frypan as a shield and hurling pasta like nobody’s business. "[same]comment "Agent Hill’s bad ass levels are through the roof, but put her in front of a powerpoint and the result is coma-inducing. "[Ch3]lol "JARVIS, my man, I need some fat beats up in here. Help a sister out?” "[ch3]comment

"She knew now that it was almost certainly to do with her personal level of comfort and how hard both Steve and Barnes had worked to make her feel good. "[middle chapter]comment

"A video clip of the Asgardian scientist Tadeas and Neil Degrasse Tyson singing a scientific ballad of their own composition was one of the most viewed Youtube videos of all time "[X]lol "He grabbed [a muffin] and shoved it into his mouth, belatedly peeling the paper off. "[Same]haha! :D "Darcy put a box of Sour Patch Kids on top, “Those are for Heimdall.” "[X]comment "“No. Damnit, Darcy. You’re stubborn. Of course you’re stubborn! Jesus Christ, I can’t even imagine what it must like to be in the same room as the two of you.” "[X]best friend sass "But Clint is a human with a bow on a team of superheroes. "[X]Darcy's favorite avenger and why Ch4 music note "Apparently Thor is back on Earth. He showed up in New York right after we left and basically deafened all of Brooklyn with his displeased shouting about his missing Shield Sister. So now everyone knows I’m gone and my disappearance is trending on Twitter as #MissingAsgardianPrincess. How is this my life?! I can’t even with this shit.” "[X]mild spoiler? HAHAHA "Try having a conversation with one of them [asgardians]-- 4 to 1 odds it turns into some sort of ballad recitation. "[X]...

"The next day, Izuku Midoriya delivered his eleven page elaborate essay on how ordering sex toys inspired him to be more honest with himself and his boyfriend about what he wanted in life and in bed. "[X]lol

"“Fire for stop, ice for slow, and smash for go.” "[X]comment

#fan fiction #fic rec #2019

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valerie · 3 years

Text

TWITL - week twenty-six - my summer break

New Post has been published on https://kiari.com/2021/07/twitl-week-twenty-six-my-summer-break/

TWITL - week twenty-six - my summer break

Last year, I didn’t take any chunks of time off from work during summer break but this year I decided I wanted some time off. Once noon hit on that last Friday in June, I was off for eleven whole days.

earrings from 1888 Design

My vacation started rather lowkey. Lots of tv watching and mostly just lazy stuff. My latest buy from 1888 Design arrived on Monday– earrings! They came just in time for me to bring them on our few days away from home. On Tuesday, I went to the salon for a bang trim and eyebrow wax– my first time going to the salon in over a year without wearing a mask. It felt a little odd at first but it turned out to be indicative of the rest of my vacation.

Wednesday – We headed out to Lake Tahoe in the morning. We arrived in the early afternoon and had brunch at Emerald Bay Bar and Grill, then took a drive in the hopes of checking out Emerald Bay. Alas, there was no where to park so we headed to the hotel to check in.

view from our room at the MontBleu

After we took our stuff to the room at the MontBleu, we walked to South of North Brewing Company for drinks. From there, we walked a bit and stopped in at Flatstick Pub for more drinks. One our way back to the hotel, we stopped at Lake Tahoe Aleworx . We were back to the hotel in the evening and I ended up going to sleep. The altitude and warm weather (and yes, probably the alcohol) definitely wore me down a bit.

early lunch at the Lucky Beaver

Thursday was our one full day at Lake Tahoe. We started it off at the Lucky Beaver for an early lunch. The burger I had (pictured above) was really good! After eating, we decided to head out to Carson City for a change of venue. We knew we wouldn’t be gone too long since we had dinner reservations.

The Fox Brewpub

The drive to Carson City wasn’t too long and the city itself just seemed to appear. It didn’t look like much until we got into the historic area of the city. We stopped in at the Fox Brewpub for drinks then decided to check out the Nevada State Museum.

I enjoyed the museum. It had an interesting mix of things like a mine in the basement, coins that were once made there, historical artifacts. It was a lovely way to pass the time and learn a few things about the history of the state.

On our way back to Lake Tahoe, we stopped off so that we could enjoy the view and take some pictures. It really was rather beautiful there, though the weather was a lot warmer than I expected though this was probably the first time I’d been to Lake Tahoe in the summer.

We had dinner at the hotel, at Ciera Steak and Chop House. It was a bit fancy but super nice. Dinner was delicious and filling and the service was excellent. I would definitely recommend it.

The next morning, we packed up and headed out. We originally planned to go straight home after our couple of days away but then Tyler Rich announced a show in Folsom and I thought, hey, why don’t we go to Folsom for his show, stay the night, then head home? The husband was cool with that idea so as soon as the tickets went on sale, I bought a pair then he booked us a night at a nearby (walking distance!) hotel.

We passed some time before checking in at the hotel by walking down Sutter Street. We had a light lunch at a cute place called Reset: Cafe by Day. The chicken salad was very good and the mimosa was delicious. After lunch, we walked a bit further and found the Folsom Hotel, which was the venue for Tyler’s show.

found the Folsom Hotel and fliers for Tyler’s shows on the window…

We checked in at the Lake Natoma Inn, cooled off a bit, then headed out for a drink at the nearby Folsom State Slickers. After our drinks, we walked to the Folsom Hotel for the 4PM show. The music was going to be outside (it had been inside the previous night), which was a good thing even though it was blazing hot. I found a place up front and stayed there until the end.

Elana Jane

Elana Jane was the opening act. I confess, I’d never heard of her but she was a treat to watch. Good voice, good songs. I enjoyed her performance. It’s always cool discovering local talents when they come back to entertain…

Tyler with Joe, Tyler, and Ben…

Tyler Rich is always going to be one of my favorites. He’s gotten so good on stage and he always sounds great. When he started his set, it didn’t feel like almost two years ago since we last saw him. When he saw us, he gave us a little extra smile and of course, my heart warmed. It was great being so close to the stage (bales of hay gave a bit of a separation) and everything sounded good. I love acoustic shows though I might have missed hearing real drums.

Tyler played most of his more recent songs but there were a couple of “oldies” mixed in, like “California Grown” and “Turn It Up.” I loved hearing them all! It was great to finally hear “Feels Like Home” and “Better Than You’re Used To” live, as well as “Real Love” (one of my personal favorites). The songs played, according to the playlist, were:

11:11

Turn It Up

Real Love

Heaven is Your Hometown

Billie Jean (cover)

Feels Like Home

Better Than You’re Used To

Have You Ever Seen the Rain (cover)

The Difference

Made for a Small Town

California Grown

Boot Scootin’ Boogie (cover)

Leave Her Wild

It was so great being outside, singing along to Tyler’s songs with other fans. Sure, it was HOT but the music and the energy just pushed that away for a bit. The 4PM show was all ages so it wasn’t too wild. It was just good fun. Sabina was in the crowd, singing along and interacting with everyone. When our eyes met, I think we probably both lit up and she made her way to me and we hugged and told each other how much we missed one another. She is really such a sweetheart. It always makes me so happy to see her.

She’s just so lovely!

After Tyler’s set, Sabina and I chatted a little and took some selfies. She’s so cool. I really do love seeing her and having those little moments. How is someone so genuinely sweet like her?

with Tyler

There was another show at 8PM and everyone at the 4PM show who kept their wristbands on would be able to check out the evening show (since it was outside and not inside as previously planned). I wasn’t sure that we’d come back so I had to take my chance to say hello to Tyler before we left. We hugged and he asked after the hubby (who was up at the bar). I told him I had left my letter to him back at the hotel and he told me that I had to come back for the second show. We took our pictures together (because of course).

Mutton Busters!

Our next stop was the Folsom Pro Rodeo. We ordered an Uber that took FOREVER and we thought we were late but we got to the rodeo just before it started. It was full! We headed to our seats just in time to watch the National Anthem. The big drama was during the opening when the rider holding the California state flag was bucked off her horse and landed badly. They had to use the stretcher to take her out! It was a little scary but she seemed aware though in obvious pain.

Cowboy Karaoke with Tyler

Tyler was there! He did the Cowboy Karaoke then the Painted Ladies came out to entertain us with some great riding. The last thing we saw was the Mutton Busting. It was so darn cute! A girl won, staying on the longest. She was so good!

We left after the mutton busting with the thought of maybe catching Tyler’s evening show. We stopped in again at the Folsom Hotel and we were definitely in time to watch Tyler but we were hungry and hot and decided to go across the street and eat some burritos. After dinner, we walked back to the hotel.

We were on the road the next morning and back home before the afternoon. Isn’t it funny how you always want to get away but when you’re back home, it feels like such a relief?

For 4th of July, we headed to Pleasant Hill for hanging out with the cousins then watching fireworks from up their hill. It was great doing something “normal” and just talking and eating and drinking together. I love that we can watch the fireworks from behind their house, on a hill. We get to be together without a bunch a strangers around us. Always such a good time and even better because no one had to work the next day!

cousins

And now it’s Tuesday morning, my last day of vacation. It was so great not having to wake up to an alarm all this time. I really did enjoy being away and checking out new places. I thought it would feel weird not wearing a mask but I got over it pretty quickly (though I kept a mask on me just in case) and it all just felt “normal.” I’m glad that Tyler was our first show since lockdown. I loved hanging out with my cousins and just relaxing and talking with them. All good times.

If you actually made it through this whole post, good on you!

Take care and be well, dear reader. Stay safe. You know the drill…

#Family #SabinaGadecki #summer break #tyler rich #TylerRich #vacation #TWITL

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sanversinsane · 7 years

Text

Sleepover.

Wayhaught’s first sleepover. For the anon that requested a prompt about Nicole and Waverly trying to get comfortable their first night sleeping in the same bed. I hope you like it!

Waverly laid next to Nicole in bed and stared up at the ceiling fan. Both women were out of breath. Both women were blissfully satisfied. Nicole turned her head to look at Waverly and Waverly turned hers to look at Nicole. They exchanged a look and then burst into laughter.

Waverly rolled over onto her stomach as she giggled. “It just keeps getting better.”

“I didn’t think it was possible.” Nicole huffed out one last chuckle before turning on her side to face Waverly. She couldn’t stop smiling even if she wanted to. Waverly sighed and let her head drop onto the pillow.

“I should probably get going soon. It’s late.” Waverly groaned at the thought of leaving Nicole’s warm comfortable bed.

Their sexual relationship was still somewhat new. New enough that they had yet to actually spend the night in each other’s beds. It was usually due to the fact that Nicole had work early in the morning, or Waverly had Wynonna waiting up for her back at the homestead. And also due to the fact that…well, sharing a bed, sleeping together was a lot more intimate than they thought.

But on this particular night…the thought of leaving was excruciating to both of them. “Don’t go.” Nicole whispered. Waverly turned her head to look at her stunning, messy haired girlfriend. “Stay with me tonight? Please.” Nicole’s fingers gently tucked a piece of hair behind Waverly’s ear.

“Are you sure?” Waverly asked. “Because really it’s not to much I can just th-”

“Waves, please. I need you to stay.” Nicole’s admission brought a smile to Waverly’s face.

“Well if you need it…who am I to say no.” She giggled. Nicole leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her girlfriend’s lips. Waverly pulled away with a smile. “But if I’m sleeping here tonight, I do have one request.”

“Anything.” Nicole smiled back.

“I’m gonna need more than just this blanket.” Waverly gave Nicole a guilty smile, as if to apologize for the request. “I just get really cold at night and if I only have one bla-”

“Multiple blankets for my baby…coming right up.” Nicole pecked Waverly on the lips before sitting up and throwing a shirt over her head. “I’ll be right back.”

As Nicole gathered the blankets Waverly texted Wynonna to let her know she was staying at Nicole’s…to which she got multiple raunchy responses, of course.

Waverly looked up when she heard Nicole’s bare feet patter back into the room. “Jesus Nicole,” Waverly laughed at the stack of blankets piled high in her girlfriend’s arms. So high that Waverly couldn’t even see her face.

“These are all the blankets in the house.” Nicole smiled as she put them down at the foot of the bed.

“I didn’t need all of them, just a few.” Waverly laughed.

“Well now you have your pick.” Nicole smiled as she walked back to her side of the bed and got back under the covers. Waverly sat up and picked 3 out of the 10 blankets Nicole had brought her. Nicole leaned up on her elbow, resting her head in her hand as she watched Waverly’s naked back move.

“What do we do with the rest of them?” Waverly asked as she laid the extra blankets over the one already covering her.

With one hard kick, all the blankets at the end of the bed toppled over and fell to the ground. “That.” Nicole grinned.

Waverly laughed as she laid back down beside her. For a moment they just laid on their sides staring at each other. “So how do you usually sleep?” Nicole asked with another smile.

“I don’t know. On my side I think…”

“Really?” Nicole nodded.

“Surprising?” Waverly asked.

Nicole shrugged “I just pictured you as a sprawler.”

Both laughed again and then Nicole opened up her arm. “C’mere” she said tapping her side. Waverly gladly curled into Nicole’s body, their leg tangling together.

Waverly hummed at how warm and soft Nicole felt. She was comfortable for a moment before Nicole gasped. “Jesus Waves!”

“What? What’d I do?” Waverly asked quickly sitting up.

“Your feet are icicles!” Nicole laughed.

“I told you I get cold.” Waverly laughed with her before she laid back down. “Do you want me to move?”

“No.” Nicole laughed and kissed her cheek. “Do you want socks?”

“It’s pointless. I just end up kicking them off.” Waverly sighed.

“Here…” Nicole lifted her legs and pulled Waverly cold feet under them. “I’ll warm em’ up.”

In a matter of minutes Waverly’s feet were warmed up, and Nicole was more than comfortable with Waverly in her arms. That was until Nicole’s arm, the one resting under Waverly’s head, fell asleep. “Hey Waves…” she said softly. “My arm is getting tingly.”

Waverly lifted her head and let Nicole pull it free. “I was comfortable.” Waverly groaned but smiled up at her girlfriend.

“I’m sorry.” Nicole apologized.

“It’s okay baby.” Waverly smiled as she rolled onto her side to face Nicole. Both of their eyes were getting heavy. Waverly could see Nicole drifting off “Goodnight.” Waverly whispered before gently kissing her lips.

After a few minutes of trying to fall asleep Waverly began to toss and turn. She always did this before trying to sleep. She was known for being somewhat restless.

“Do you always toss and turn this much?” Nicole asked but kept her eyes closed.

“I’m sorry.” Waverly sighed. “I’ll try not to move.”

“Hey no…” Nicole opened her eyes and gave Waverly a sleepy smile. “Roll over.” She said. Waverly rolled onto her side, facing away from Nicole. Seconds later Nicole was curling her body against Waverly’s. Her body curved against the smaller woman’s frame, one arm warm and secure under her own body, the other arm draped over Waverly’s chest. Nicole gladly took the roll of being the big spoon to Waverly’s little spoon. “Is this okay?” She asked quietly.

Waverly nodded and snuggled in closer to Nicole’s body, so close they were almost sharing a pillow. “Mmmmm hmmm. You’re so warm.” She thought outloud.

“You’re so soft.” Nicole whispered as she gently kissed the back of Waverly’s neck. “I’m really comfortable. Are you comfortable baby?”

“Yeah.” Waverly blissfully sighed. “This is perfect.”

Those were the last words they said before falling asleep.

Waking up was a different story. They did not wake up in the perfectly positioned nest they had fallen asleep in. No, Nicole woke up shivering.

She glanced over to find Waverly wrapped up in three layers of blankets like the cutest burrito she had ever seen. With anyone else she would have been mad about the stolen blankets but Waverly was hard to be mad at, especially this early in the morning. Nicole got up and grabbed a few of the extra blankets she had kicked off the bed the night before. She draped them over herself as she got back into bed.

She watched her girlfriend sleep for a few minutes. Waverly looked so peaceful, so angelic. Her hair was a mess and her mouth slightly opened, but Nicole was sure she had never seen anything so adorable in her life. She would have stayed their all day if it wasn’t for Calamity Jane pawing and mowing at the door. Nicole got up quick in hopes that her cat wouldn’t wake Waverly.

“Alright I know you’re hungry.” Nicole said as she closed her bedroom door. She leaned down and scooped up the orange cat into her arm. “Come on let’s get you some breakfast.”

As Nicole opened up the can of cat food and scooped it into the tiny bowl she began to talk to her cat, like she always did. “I don’t know CJ, she just seems different ya know? This feels different.” She stared off into space as she spoke. “Last night was just…God it was amazing. Our chemistry is unbelievable.” Her impatience cat could care less about the words coming out of Nicole’s mouth, she just wanted her food. The orange fuzz ball meowed loud enough to knock Nicole out of her daydreaming state. “Okay okay. God you’re a shitty listener, you know that?” She said as she placed the bowl on the floor.

The redhead let her cat eat while she started a pot of coffee. She sat at the kitchen table and wait for the brew to finish before pouring a cup for her, and a cup for Waverly. After a putting few drops of milk and a spoonful of sugar in each mug she made her way back to the room.

The sight before her made her stop. Waverly still wrapped in her blankets, but now sitting up resting against the headboard. She was looking down at her phone.

“Morning sunshine.” Nicole grinned as she made it into the room. Waverly smiled and put her phone back on the table. “Coffee?”

“Please.” Waverly nodded excitedly.

“How’d you sleep?” Nicole asked as she got back in bed.

“Mmmm” Waverly sipped her coffee. “Other than you kicking me, pretty great!”

“I did not.” Nicole groaned.

“Oh you did.” Waverly laughed. “It’s okay, those long legs have to go somewhere I guess.”

Nicole giggled. “I’m sorry. Hey but you stole all the blankets!”

“Did not!”

“Waverly…” Nicole laughed into her mug. “They’re all wrapped around you right now.”

Waverly glanced down at the pile of blankets surrounding her. “Sorry.” She gave Nicole another guilty smile.

“It’s okay baby. You looked like the cutest little burrito this morning.” Nicole placed her mug on her night stand and laid back down on her pillow, Waverly followed.

“Truthfully, it was probably one of the best sleeps I’ve had in a long time.” Waverly smiled.

“Me too.” Nicole nodded.

#wayhaught #wayhaught fluff #wayhaught fan fiction #wayhaught fanfic #big spoon little spoon

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still-with-hearts-beating · 7 years

Text

matter of time (jane/kurt + mayfair fanfic + #bsABCchallenge)

project: @blindspothiatusproject ABC challenge

m: mayfair (version two)

A/N: follow up to one of my faves (perhaps my favorite), lover, come back to me from the #bspromptchallenge. Set in an AU in which Mayfair is alive and well.

matter of time

Jane opened the door to the bathroom stall, jumping slightly as she saw Mayfair leaning against the counter, her arms folded across her chest.

“Everything OK?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Jane.

Jane cleared her throat and nodded as she walked towards the sink and washed her hands.

“Fine,” she said, giving Mayfair a slight smile through the mirror. “Just my breakfast...it didn’t agree with me.”

Mayfair nodded but didn’t say anything, watching as Jane took a moment to splash some water on her face and rinse her mouth out, handing her a paper towel as she turned off the tap.

“Thanks,” Jane said quietly, drying her face and hands. Mayfair stood silently until Jane tossed the paper towel in the garbage and turned towards her. “I should get back—“

“How far along are you?”

Jane thought about lying or pretending to be confused. Or offended. But she knew the woman standing across from her and it was no use. Besides, she was too tired and nauseous to come up with a plausible excuse.

“Two months,” she said, folding her hands over her still-flat stomach. “He doesn’t know, I found out after he left.”

Mayfair sighed and offered Jane a slight smile, unfolding her arms and reaching out to rest her hand gently on Jane’s elbow.

It had been two months since Kurt had left on his current undercover mission, one that required deep cover with no communication with them. And no timeline for his return.

Jane had spent the first two weeks after he left cleaning and organizing their apartment. Twice. She spent another week going to yoga twice a day. The fourth week, she called Mayfair, bored out of her mind and begging for something to do.

She and Kurt had agreed that she wouldn’t go out into the field while he was gone. They had resigned from the FBI, planning to move to California once he got back and they wouldn’t risk that by having them both in danger. But she quickly realized she was going to go crazy waiting for him at home, especially not knowing how long it would be.

So, Mayfair had set her up in the linguistics department, working on classified translations. She was good at it, and it felt good to be useful, and she was glad to be in the office so she would know as soon as any word from Kurt came in.

She had been back at work three days when she found out she was pregnant. She had seen her doctor shortly afterwards but other than her, she hadn’t told a soul. Until now.

“How did you know?” she asked Mayfair and the older woman smiled as she shook her head and wrapped her arms around Jane’s shoulders, pulling her into a hug.

“My sister has four kids, I’ve gotten good at spotting the signs,” she whispered and Jane let out a half laugh, half sob as she hugged Mayfair back.

“I wish he was here,” she mumbled, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes and Mayfair nodded, rubbing small circles on her back.

“I know. He will be. He will be soon,” she said, keeping her arms around Jane for a few moments.

Jane wiped at her eyes as she pulled back, giving Mayfair an appreciative smile as she collected herself.

“I don’t want to say anything to anyone yet, it’s still early and...” Mayfair held up her hand, nodding understandingly.

“Say no more, this stays between us. I was hesitant to ask but I did promise him I’d look out for you,” she said and Jane smiled, raising her eyebrows.

“You did?” Mayfair returned her smile, nodding as she opened the bathroom door for the both of them.

“Never seen anyone quite as smitten as that boy of yours,” she said teasingly and Jane laughed as she followed her out the door.

***

“You sure it’s recording?”

Jane looked over from her hospital bed at the iPad currently being held up beside her face, tilting her head back to see the face behind it.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Mayfair said, turning it slightly to the side to get a better view of Jane and the monitor beside her. “We’re ready,” she said, looking over to the doctor who held the sonogram wand over Jane’s belly.

“Alright...well, mom and dad,” she said, looking at Jane and then at the iPad, before turning back to the screen beside her. “Meet your baby,” she clicked a few keys on her keyboard, and after a moment, a low swishing sound filled the room. “And that’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

Jane gasped, her eyes filling with tears as she stared at the blurry image on the screen and then looked down at her stomach, slightly fuller than normal. She looked up at the iPad for a moment and closed her eyes, listening to the heartbeat as she pictured Kurt’s face as he heard it for the first time.

She opened her eyes and glanced up at Mayfair, the two of them sharing a teary smile before turning back towards the doctor.

“Is everything OK?” she asked and the doctor examined the screen for a few moments, moving the wand over her stomach.

“Everything looks good, strong heartbeat. It’s a little early to know the sex...”

Jane shook her head, smiling at the screen.

“That’s OK, I want to wait for my fiancé,” she explained and the doctor nodded, printing off a still image for her to take home.

“We’ll book you for another appointment next month and hopefully dad will be home by then,” she said with a smile, handing Jane the photo. Jane stared down at the picture, wiping at her cheeks before she held the photo up in front of the iPad.

“It’s our baby, Kurt,” she whispered into the camera and Mayfair smiled as she watched on the screen. Jane glanced up over the iPad and caught her eye. “Thank you,” she said and Mayfair simply nodded as she ended the recording.

“He’s going to love it,” she said, placing her hand over Jane’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. “He won’t miss a thing.”

***

Jane opened the door, giving Mayfair an apologetic smile as she saw her on the other side, her coat and boots thrown on over her pajamas.

“You were in bed,” Jane said with a sigh as she stepped aside for her to walk through the door. “I’m sorry.”

Mayfair shook her head as she took off her coat, hanging it on the hook by the door before she turned to Jane.

“Stop that. What’s going on? Are you in pain?”

Jane sighed and shook her head, glancing down at her small belly and resting her hands on it.

“Not pain, it’s just...something’s weird, something’s not right,” she said, biting her lip as she gently rubbed her stomach. She looked up and reached out for Mayfair’s hand, placing it against her stomach beside her own. “There! What is that?” she asked, her eyes wide with worry.

Mayfair kept her hand against Jane’s belly for a moment before she looked up at her, her lips curving up into a smile.

“Your baby’s kicking,” she said softly and Jane stared at her for a moment before looking back down at her belly.

“Really?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears as she felt it again. “Oh my god, the baby’s kicking,” she whispered. After a few moments, she looked up and her eyes darted around the apartment. “Where’s the iPad, we have to record it for Kurt!”

Mayfair laughed as she walked over to the counter and turned on the iPad, opening up the camera. She nodded to Jane that she was recording.

“Kurt, our baby’s kicking,” Jane whispered, both her hands resting on her belly as she looked down and then back up at the camera. “It’s the most amazing feeling. Well, at first it totally freaked me out and I called Mayfair in a panic. Say hi, Mayfair,” she said with a laugh as Mayfair turned the camera around and gave a short wave before turning it to face Jane again.

“But it really is so amazing,” she continued softly, gazing down at her stomach. “I can’t wait for you to feel it.”

She was quiet for a few moments before she looked up at the camera, smiling before giving it a small wave.

“We love you.”

***

“Hey, look what I can do,” Jane said from her seat across from Mayfair’s desk.

Mayfair looked up and laughed as she saw Jane balancing her burrito bowl on her belly, holding her hands up in the air on either side.

“Baby’s got good balance,” she said with a chuckle, before picking up the bowl and scooping up a big bite. “Are you eating your guacamole?” she asked and Mayfair shook her head, sliding the little container across the desk.

Jane was seven months pregnant now.

She never imagined Kurt would be undercover this long and had it not been for the glimpse they had caught of him on a security camera six weeks earlier, and the partial phone conversation they had picked up ten days ago, she was sure she would be convinced he was dead.

But the fact that he, and the target the FBI was after, were popping up on surveillance was a sign that whatever they were planning was coming soon. Which meant the signal from Kurt to move in and put this all to an end would come soon, too.

“What time is your doctor’s appointment tomorrow?” Mayfair asked as she clicked through her calendar on her phone.

In Kurt’s absence, Mayfair had stepped in in every way possible. She accompanied Jane to all her doctor’s appointments and prenatal classes, recording every single one for Kurt.

She cooked dinner for Jane a few nights a week, even attempting a few times to teach her a few dishes. They recorded one disastrous cooking video for Kurt – their doomed attempt at a lasagna that ended up on the kitchen floor – and another, more successful one of them making Jello, one of Jane’s frequent cravings.

Jane did her best to document everything for Kurt. She had photos and videos and keepsakes all tucked away around their apartment, and a drawer full of baby clothes in their bedroom. She had also asked Mayfair to dig up some of Kurt’s old case files and every night, she and the baby fell asleep listening to tapes of Kurt’s dictations of his notes, the low rumble of his voice soothing them to sleep.

The one thing she had been putting off was building a nursery. For a while, she held out hope that Kurt would return soon and they could follow through with their California plan and have a “beach baby” as Jane affectionately referred to it.

But she realized their window for that was closing – their move out west would wait until after the baby was born. And as she got further along in her pregnancy, she realized how important Mayfair’s support was to her and, even when Kurt came home, she couldn’t imagine having the baby without Mayfair there. Their baby would be born in New York and they would likely live there for another few months afterwards.

Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to build the nursery without Kurt. She held on to her faith that he would be home in time for them to do it together.

“Jane? Your appointment tomorrow?”

Jane looked up to find Mayfair looking at her expectantly and she shook her head, setting her bowl down on the desk.

“Ten AM,” she said, setting her hands on the arms of the chair as she slowly stood up. “I should get back to work,” she said, collecting her bowl. She was just about to walk towards the door when it flew open, Patterson sticking her head in.

“We got it. He’s ready,” she said to both of them and Jane dropped her bowl, the remnants of her lunch going flying everywhere. She stared at it for a moment before looking back up at Patterson, her eyes wide as her heard pounded a mile a minute.

“Right now?” she asked, walking towards the door. Patterson nodded, glancing over at Mayfair as she walked around her desk.

“Right now, we got the signal ninety seconds ago, the team is prepping to move out in three minutes,” she said as she started to make her way back to her lab, Mayfair and Jane following behind her.

“Uh uh,” Mayfair said, turning back and putting her hand up to Jane. “You wait here.”

“No way,” Jane said, shaking her head but Mayfair held her ground.

“You wait here,” she repeated, nodding towards her office. “He’s come all this way and you’ve come all this way,” she said, looking down at Jane’s belly. “He’s coming home to you,” she said softly and Jane felt her eyes well up with tears as her hands came up to rest on her stomach. “You focus on taking care of yourself and your little one so you can welcome him home.”

Jane took a shaky breath and nodded, watching as Patterson and Mayfair continued on the lab before returning to Mayfair’s office. She paced back and forth a few times before sitting down on the couch, closing her eyes as she gently rubbed her belly.

“Daddy’s coming home,” she whispered. After a few moments, she took out her phone, cueing up one of the recordings of Kurt. She played it, letting it calm her as she focused on taking deep breaths, resting her head against the back of the couch and smiling as she felt the baby kick and move at the sound of Kurt’s voice.

Nearly two hours later, Mayfair opened the door and stepped into the office and Jane’s head flew up to look at her.

“It’s over, he’s fine,” she said, walking towards the couch and sitting beside her. Jane leaned forward, covering her face with her hands as her body shook with sobs. Mayfair reached over and rested her hand on Jane’s back, rubbing circles against it as she let her cry.

“He’s OK?” she asked after a moment, looking up at Mayfair with her tear-stained face and Mayfair nodded, reaching out and wrapping her arms around Jane, pulling her into a hug. “I have to see him,” she said as they pulled apart, standing up with Mayfair’s help. “I have to see him now.”

“They’re taking him to the hospital,” she said, holding up her hands as Jane looked at her with worry. “He suffered some smoke inhalation, nothing major,” she assured her and Jane nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” Mayfair said, extending her hand to Jane.

“Time for the baby to meet daddy.”

***

Kurt held the oxygen mask away from his face, coughing as he tried to get the doctor’s attention.

“I really just need a phone,” he said before holding the mask back up to his nose and mouth, taking a few breaths before holding it away again. “You don’t understand, I need to—“

He stopped as the door to his room opened and Jane’s head poked in, both their eyes welling up with tears as they saw each other for the first time in seven months.

“You’re here,” he whispered and she nodded, opening the door all the way as she stepped through. She stood still for a moment as she glanced down at her belly and then back up at him, watching his face as he took her in.

He stared at her for a moment, watching as her hands came to rest on her belly and she took a few more steps towards him.

“We’re both here,” she whispered, biting her lip as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, reaching out for her belly, placing both his palms against it. She covered his hands with hers, choking back a sob as she felt the one thing she had wanted more than anything for the past seven months.

Their baby was kicking and Kurt was there to feel it with her.

He kept his hands on her belly as he looked up at her, his own tears falling onto his cheeks as the realization sunk in. She leaned down, pressing her lips to his in a long kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled herself closer to him.

He had a coughing fit as they pulled apart and she scrambled to hand him his oxygen mask. He held it against his face with one hand, his other hand staying against her belly as he stared at it. She smiled, reaching out and brushing her fingers against his cheek as she watched him take it all in.

She had had seven months to get used to this. He had barely had seventy seconds.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, coughing as he pulled the mask away again, setting it down on the bed beside him before placing his palm against her stomach again. “It’s just...it’s too...”

“Too much?” she asked, glancing down at his hands and then up at him and he immediately shook his head, bringing one of his hands up to cup her cheek.

“Too amazing, too incredible...too good,” he said, pulling her lips down towards his again. “It’s so, so good.”

She grinned against his lips before he pulled away, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her belly.

“How long?” he asked, looking up at her. She chuckled, resting her hand on the back of his neck.

“Seven months,” she said, running her hands through his hair, now much longer than she’d ever seen it. “The night you left,” she added with a grin and he shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her belly again before sitting up. “I’m so sorry you were alone.”

She shook her head, resting her hands on his shoulders.

“I wasn’t alone,” she assured him. “You left me in very good hands,” she said and Kurt smiled, wrapping his arms around Jane’s waist and pulling her as close as her belly would allow, pressing his face into her shoulder.

“Mayfair?” he mumbled and she nodded, pulling him closer.

“She’s helped me so much,” Jane whispered. “You don’t have to worry about anything,” she added, feeling him nod against her shoulder. “You’re here now,” she whispered in his ear, smiling as he pulled her closer.

“God, I missed you,” he whispered and she felt her tears well up in her eyes again.

She pulled back slightly, leaning her forehead against his as his hands rested on her stomach again.

“You kept your promise,” she said, leaning in to kiss him softly. “You came home to me. To us,” she said, smiling down at her stomach. “I told our baby every day that you would.”

He chuckled and shook his head, a few tears slipping out of the corner of his eyes.

“Our baby,” he said in quiet disbelief before looking up at her. She smiled and brushed her hand against his cheek.

“You’ll get used to it soon,” she said, smiling as she leaned in and brushed her lips against his forehead.

He wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her against his chest, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I’m not sure I want to get used to this,” he said softly. “I want to feel like this forever.”

#blindspot #jeller #blindspot fanfic #bshiatusproject #bsABCchallenge #writing: mine

82 notes · View notes

veilbetweendreamsandreality · 7 years

Text

It's Only a Matter of Time

A/N: This is a little fanfiction/drabble I came up with. Please give constructive criticism and feedback is much appreciated. Set between 2x22 and 3x01 of Blindspot. Jane is unable to sleep due to memories and flashbacks, or so she thinks.

Jane stepped into her bedroom, the blue shag carpet echoed the bedroom of the safe house. Bare feet rushed to the bathroom, cold water ran into the pristine white ceramic basin. Hands dunked almost numb from ice temperature. Fingers grabbed a flannel and soaked it and squeezed the water on her face and down her neck; nausea in the gut twisted her stomach into knots. She looked down, the sleeves up to her elbows dark grey from the water. ‘Great’ Jane grumbled as she drained the sink and wringed out her sleeves. A sigh passed her lips as she pulled it over her head and tossed in the direction of the laundry basket, not caring whether it went into it or down the side. Feet padded into the dark bedroom and pulled the first jumper Jane had her hands on from the dresser and tugged it on. Flopped onto the foot of the bed, body slumped like a ragdoll; ‘I can’t go on like this,’ Jane muttered to herself Kurt snored in response the duvet wrapped around him like a burrito. The ex-SEAL glanced at the alarm clock - 03:24.

Movements sluggish Jane moved to the kitchen and pulled a half-full bottle of red wine out of the fridge, soon cross legged on the couch. The occasional swallow of alcohol the single sound that broke the silence. ‘If you continue like this, you will harm your liver.’ A familiar voice stated into the gloom. Jane put down the empty wine bottle and glared in the voice’s direction. ‘Until the memories are straight in my head, it’s small guilty pleasure I indulge in.’ Jane picked up the bottle and chucked it in the recycling bin, back in the kitchen. Jane turned the face the voice, the figure, silhouetted in the gloom. ‘I know I shouldn’t drink, but it helps put the memories of ORION, Roman, Shepherd and everything else into some sort of coherent order.’ The woman fumbled with the light switch, green eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness of the room. ‘Please, sit down.’

The other woman smirked as she did as asked, ‘You seemed surprised see me Jane then again, you shouldn’t be. I am part of your life whether you like it or not. We are closer than you perhaps realise.’ Jane looked down at her jumper, hands tugged at the sleeves - a woollen long sleeve dark grey in colour; ‘It was the first one I came to.’ She had tossed her white cream coloured jumper in the laundry. The woman at the table laughed, ‘Your subconscious instincts chose for you. Protest it if you wish but you know in your gut it’s true.’ ‘My gut feels like it wants to burst.’ The woman stood up and put a hand on Jane’s arm. ‘Please trust me, you use to. I know you can trust me again.’ Green eyes looked at the arm against hers, long black woollen sleeves. ‘I don’t know; how long does it usually take to trust your own mind again?’ 'You said yourself, it’s only a matter of time. We are almost there.’

Jane gave a small smile, 'I know Remi, that what scares me.’

'Don’t be scared of me.’ Remi led Jane to a chair and sat her down, before pulling a second bottle of wine from the fridge and popped the cork, two clean glasses placed on the counter and the SEAL poured the drinks out. The two drinks and bottle were carried to the table.

'Thanks.’ Jane sipped her wine, 'I’m glad we’re not fighting this time… The first time back at the safe house put me at an unease.’

Remi nodded, 'I had to push you, to remind you who you who we are.’ The SEAL looked towards at the bedroom. 'I told you, this doesn’t belong to you.’ She snapped. Jane blinked, glass down she rushed to the bedroom. 'Kurt? Kurt?!’ Jane threw the covers to the floor; the bed empty. 'What did you do to him Remi?!’

Remi put her hands up. 'Nothing. You were the one who left him. Our husband. Your decision. We are in Nepal, remember?’ Jane nodded weakly, shuffled back into the kitchen. 'Sorry.’ Her head sank to the table. 'I need to regain and understand my memories before I go back. If I go back.’ Sat up she sipped the wine.

'I’m here to help you remember our past. Where or when do you want to start?’

'From the beginning, the orphanage, the rabbit; when we were Alice…; or what happened at ORION. Is there a Phase 3, or a Phase 2 contingency plan? How can I repair my relationship with Roman? Was I wrong to go against Shepherd?’ Jane gulped her wine.

'Jane Doe, trust you instincts.’

Gif credit: @in-night-so-ransomed-rogue

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #jeller #jane doe #kurt weller #fic: it's only a matter of time

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paranoidwino · 7 years

Text

make it home

for the awesome @dresupi , because she’s awesome and amazing :) (I know Quicktaser is your jam but I can’t do it so yeah, next best thing?)

Read here on AO3

“The girl isn’t sleeping.”

Darcy raised her head from the magazine she was reading and followed Dr Cho’s gaze.

Wanda Maximoff was in her brother’s room, and they were talking and chuckling quietly in a language she couldn’t understand. Sokovian was something she’d never studied, but she supposed she’d have to fix that; if Nat loved it when she understood and spoke Russian with her, it was only logical that they’d appreciate another conversation partner too (she didn’t count Clint, he spoke like fifty languages to her seven and took great pleasure in showing it off).

At first glance there was absolutely nothing wrong with Wanda; she was smiling softly and her brother was animated and laughing as much as he could while pinned to a bed (forced bed rest must be painful for a speedster), but then her eyes lingered on the lines of the other woman’s face. She had dark circles under her eyes that Darcy wouldn’t have otherwise noticed and her face pinched at the strangest of times.

Darcy looked back at the doctor. “These are some dark circles, but Steve didn’t report anything about a slower performance than usual? I mean, wouldn’t they have noticed if she hadn’t slept in days?”

Her brother must had noticed for sure such a thing. Then again, they could have had the discussion already and he was letting it go, judging by the looks he shot her when she wasn’t looking.

Dr Cho pursed her lips. “Maybe, but she’s not getting enough sleep, that’s for sure.” She left soon after, back to her rounds.

Darcy went back to her magazine, but every now and then she’d raise her eyes and stare at the girl.

She resolved early on to keep an eye on Wanda.

The girl had breakfast at the crack of dawn, spent the morning with her brother, went to training with Steve, had lunch, training with Natasha and then after dinner she’d spend every single moment back with her brother again, at least until Dr Cho kicked her off the medical floor. Darcy had initially assumed that this would be it, that Wanda would finally get into bed even if it was well over eleven in the evening, but the girl did not, in fact, go to her rooms. She went back to the common area and proceeded to make herself a huge pot of something that definitely didn’t smell like coffee (it didn’t even look like coffee… it sort of looked like something Bruce would have drunk had he been here, and the thought brought a pang to Darcy. She missed her friend). Out of excuses to linger around the common area and unwilling to confess her bonafide stalking, Darcy had to retreat to Jane’s rooms.

This same exact pattern repeated itself for three days before Darcy found the courage to actually smell and try the thing that pretended to be coffee.

It wasn’t. It was gross and slimy and tasted of roots. “What is… that?!” she choked on her cup and tried her best not to spit it out. It was a close call, but she managed to keep it down. And then the aftertaste kicked in, and she suddenly wished she’d thrown it up because this was 10 times more gross.

Wanda Maximoff hadn’t really expected her to taste it, apparently, because her lips twitched in amusement and incredulity. “It’s chiko..chik-” she tasted the words in her mouth, “Цикорийный кофе.” She ended up with in the end, helplessly. Darcy perked up at the words she could understand. “Chicory coffee?” She pointed at her mug, “this is not coffee. This is bad, bad stuff that pretends to be coffee to catch us unaware and kill us all.”

Wanda smiled and shrugged, “it’s what we drink in Sokovia. There is no americano in Sokovia, only chicory.” Her eyes got a very nostalgic and faraway look at the memory. It made Darcy’s heart melt a bit.

“You drink this all the time? Are you serious?” Her horror at the idea of drinking roots all the time was palpable.

Wanda nodded and got herself another refill. It was the third she was drinking that night.

“Okaaay,” Darcy prolonged the word, “and it’s cool… I mean no, it’s disgusting and gross but maybe it’s an acquired taste I can’t yet understand and it’s fine, whatever floats your boat. Cool. Yep.” She gave another careful sniff to the mug. Nope, it still smelled awful.

The girl chuckled, “No, it is bad, but it is what we drink and it works.”

Darcy peered at her from behind her mug, undecided on whether or not to throw it all away. Wanda looked really tired, like she was practically ready to drop dead on her feet. “So, uhm, not really my business, but… why are you brewing atrocities in the middle of the night? It’s…” she looked at the clock in the kitchen, “well after midnight.”

Wanda gave a noncommittal shrug, “It is not very late.”

“Uh uh,” Darcy nodded, “Totally not late, especially if you get up at five and please don’t deny it, Helen says you’re at your brother’s side the moment she opens the ward at seven, and FRIDAY told me you have breakfast at six.” She gave her the best pointed look she could manage at midnight with an aftertaste of death in her mouth. She pulled it off quite well thanks to her practice with Jane, if she had to say so herself because Wanda looked sheepish all of sudden.

Darcy’s eyes softened and she approached the girl, “Wanda, what’s wrong?”

The girl retreated a bit into herself, and Darcy immediately halted her movements. She shrugged again--she did that a lot--and said, “I’m not sleepy.” And yep, she looked ready to yawn and keel over.

“Absolutely,” Darcy nodded, “not sleepy at all. Wanda, you’re ready to fall asleep at any second and the racoon look you’re sporting could give the Winter Soldier a run for his money.” The last part was whispered because Steve was still touchy about his BFF.

“Come on,” she added brightly, holding a hand in her direction, “let’s go to your rooms and get you into bed.” Her heart flip-flopped a bit when Wanda took her hand and followed, albeit reluctantly.

Wanda’s and Pietro’s rooms were squeezed between the floor that was now empty because Bruce was AWOL and Natasha’s quarters. Darcy was secretly pleased Nat now had a buffer between her rooms and Bruce’s, because the events of Sokovia had shaken the Russian assassin more than she’d let people know, and Darcy worried about her (the moment Bruce or the Hulk walked those doors again? Darcy was kicking them. Either. Both. She didn’t care. She was kicking them so hard…).

FRIDAY dutifully opened the elevator and then Wanda’s room.

Compared to Darcy’s, who was bunking with Jane in a tiny guest room on Thor’s apartment slash floor when she wasn’t kicked to the living room, it was huge. It had a beautiful view of the city, all glass panels and steel in the windows. A huge bed that should be able to host at least three Hulks was at the opposite corner of the room, and there was even a big, flat screen TV.

It was grand, it was luxurious... and it was making Wanda more uncomfortable by the minute.

“Okay,” Darcy started slowly, unsure of what exactly was the problem. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but you’re fidgeting like a deer in front of a hunting rifle so I have to ask; what’s wrong with these rooms? Do you not like them?”

“They’re...nice.” Wanda had released her hand and was trying to fold into herself again. Looking at the young woman pressed in her red shawl, Darcy noticed how tiny she was. Not short, because she still had almost an inch on her, but she looked so lost and alone in such a big room that was every inch as grandiose as a set of rooms in Stark Tower. She felt terribly out of place.

Wanda shrugged, “I am grateful for these rooms.”

“But they’re not home?” she asked gently. Wanda didn’t answer.

Darcy nodded. “Okay, tell you what, tonight you can bunk with me and get some shut-eye, which you need, Wanda, like ten days of it. How does that sound?” The girl didn’t answer, but her face lit up with a hopeful smile and she quickly followed without a backward glance.

Jane was already asleep, which was a miracle and Darcy had no time to look at a gift horse in the mouth. She peeked into her room and yep, she was sleeping like the dead, her face scrunched in concentration even during slumber, her whole body wrapped like a burrito under the covers.

“Okay,” she nodded, placing a finger on her lips, “boss lady is being a nice burrito for the next seven hours or so, if we can keep it that way.”

Wanda looked at her quizzically. Darcy waved her hand dismissively, “Don’t mind me, let’s get some sleep.” She pointed at the coffee table in the living room (which was Jane’s living room, but doubled nicely as Darcy’s bedroom, for now). She pressed at it a bit and unrolled her futon, which had been $200 on Amazon and could be single, double bed and coffee table? Yes, please. So worth it when you followed an astrophysicist around for a living, not to mention the comfort of having it during her college days.

She stood proudly in front of it, ready to crawl under the soft covers when she noticed that yep, she and Wanda were still a hundred percent dressed and the girl even had her combat slash training boots in.

“Okay, I…” she coughed, “didn’t think this through. I’ll go fetch you some PJs.”

She would have loved to say ‘yep, best night of sleep I ever had’ , but it would have been a lie.

Wanda was a terrible futon partner.

She tossed and turned in the throes of a nightmare for almost the whole night, and every time Darcy tried to comfort her, the girl stiffened so much it was ridiculous to even attempt.

But the next morning, she looked as lucid as ever, even oblivious of what had happened the previous night.

Or she’d been trained to be a very good actor , Darcy mused as the girl approached the kitchen, hopefully not trying to brew more of that lethal concoction. But her smile was sincere and when she squeezed her hand in thanks, Darcy knew she had done right by her.

She’d done worse to help people catch some sleep. She’d share with a Bilgesnipe if it meant Wanda was getting some much needed rest, poor girl.

The dancing of her insides when Wanda had smiled at her had nothing to do with it.

The following nights, Wanda told her she’d sleep in her room, claiming that she couldn’t depend on someone else sleeping with her all the time like Pietro used to do, and she let it go with a cheery ‘Go you!’.

If Wanda decided to spend more time in the rooms it could only be a good sign. It was however clear that after a few days, she had reverted back to not getting sleep and clinging to her brother again. Her still-recuperating brother who according to Dr Cho would be in medical for at least three more weeks. Yeah, no, not an option.

She spent the day waiting for her chance. She’d stopped Jane’s caffeine intake at five (she usually stopped caffeinating the boss at seven, with the hopes of sleep, but Jane had agreed that tonight they could take an early night in exchange for two benders sometime next week), she’d unwrapped her futon and she’d even gotten out the good pajamas (the ones that didn’t involve a sloth in a nightcap that had nothing to do with politics ).

She knocked on Wanda’s door at eleven that night. She could still feel Tony gleefully announcing that nope, he wasn’t going to bed tonight, but she’d deal with him tomorrow morning.

Wanda peeked from her door. “Yes?”

“Hey, Wanda, sorry if I’m bothering you…” She tried to look into her room, “were you sleeping already?” She would bet Mew Mew that she wasn’t.

“Ah, no…” Wanda stuttered, “not yet. You need something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she smiled, unleashing the puppy eyes she’d used with Clint to get him help her contaminate the vents of the lab with purple glitter. “I’m sorry to ask you but Jane’s doing the burrito thing again and we used to share the bed a lot and I can’t risk waking her up and Nat will probably have my head if I wake her up for this and I can’t ask Tony-” she took a deep breath. She was totally lying, Jane was jealous of her space and Nat would totally share with her if she asked (she wouldn’t sleep a wink, but she’d share), but she hoped Wanda didn’t pick up on that . “...And I’d really appreciate it if we could share, tonight?” She added a sad face for good measure.

Wanda hesitated and Darcy exaggerated the sad puppy look until she smiled hesitantly and agreed.

“Great, thank you so much!” She cheered.

They stood awkwardly in front of her door.

Darcy giggled a bit. “I’m kind of waiting for you to let me in or get some pajamas and come with me?”

“Oh!” Wanda blushed pink and disappeared inside.

She left the door open.

Okay, Darcy was usually a classy creature who didn’t go around peeking into other people’s quarters, but she was kind of curious to see what the twins’ room looked like after a week, so she checked on Wanda and darted her eyes all over.

The room was as pristine and untouched as it had been before. Like it wasn’t even lived in.

There was only a pile of sheets in a corner, as close as possible to the wall.

What on Earth…

“Here, sorry…” Wanda cleared her throat. She had a pair of pink pjs in her hand.

Darcy refused to be embarrassed by being caught ‘snooping’ around (she really wasn’t, she hadn’t even moved from the front door) and instead gave the room another long look. The more she looked, the more this room seemed impersonal and as not-Wanda-ish as possible. It was like an hotel room or a guest room. Nondescript, neutral, and anonymous.

“Okay, thanks again for doing this,” she smiled at the young woman and took her hand. “Let’s go.”

The night was almost an exact repeat of the last time they’d shared a bed.

Wanda twitched, turned, tossed, but in the end slept almost six hours. Worth it.

And that night, when she made to go to ‘bed’ in her room, Darcy again offered her futon and company. And again, and again and again.

After five nights or so, Wanda started getting used to the feeling of not having only her brother close to her. The nightmares stopped and she didn’t flinch anymore at every tiny movement. Darcy was actually able to wrap her arms around her to comfort her any time she became agitated in her sleep, which was a plus all around.

But Darcy didn’t forget the empty room or the fact that there was no sign the quarters belonged to the Maximoff twins. Pietro would be released in two weeks--she had little less than that to fix it.

‘Fixing it’ proved to be a far harder mission than she’d assumed it would be.

She needed to make the rooms more ‘homey’ to a couple of twins whose home (and nation) had been destroyed into nothingness, after their roots had been removed and they’d been forced to live on the streets for years . They were basically Ex-PoW, two against the world.

She suddenly had the unbidden image of two tiny grumpy kittens in a world too big for them. Well, filling the rooms with catnip didn’t sound too cool. Yeah, no. But she could do some more colorful knick knacks, just in case.

The task of getting a set of rooms ready in two weeks was daunting, and she had no idea what the Maximoffs liked, and couldn’t very much ask them in person, because that would ruin the surprise.

“FRIDAY?” “Yes, Miss Lewis?”

So, she went for the next best thing. “Do you know where Steve is?”

“Captain Rogers is in the kitchen, Miss Lewis.”

Perfect. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Steve stopped fiddling with the coffee pot and turned to her. Darcy didn’t believe for a second that she’d surprised him, what with super-hearing and all, but it was nice of him to try.

“Hello yourself, Darcy.” He smiled.

She smiled back, it was impossible not to, “Hello you, Steve. Sorry.”

“No problem, what’s up?”

“So,” she told herself she wouldn’t be too blunt. “I’m going to ask you an hypothetical question and please feel free to tell me if I overstep my boundaries. But I feel like you’re my best bet here.” She waited a beat. “What does ‘home’ mean to you?”

She suddenly felt she could check ‘Make Captain America fidget’ off her bucket list.

“What prompted this question, Darcy?” He asked delicately.

“I’m… kind of thinking of the Maximoff twins.”

Steve frowned, “is there anything wrong?”

“NO!” She answered quickly, and then, “Seriously, no. They’re adorable and nice and don’t worry it’s nothing wrong. I just… I think they’re lonely?” Steve’s frown eased, but he was still looking intently at her. “I mean, it’s always been them on the streets and now they’re in this big tower and they’re not together and yes I know it’s only for two weeks, but Wanda is really struggling to adapt to this new world, and I really don’t know how to make her feel at home?” His eyes had become sad. Crap, okay, no, retreat, abort mission, abort. “I’m sorry, Steve,” she said hastily, “I shouldn’t have asked you, I… I’m a terrible person.”

“No, no, Darcy, it’s fine,” Steve assured her. He then scratched the back of his head. “Frankly? At first, there was nothing that I could call home. I am now, thanks to my friends, but apart from that...” He shrugged.

Darcy felt reassured and disappointed at the same time by his answer. Thinking that they’d get better with time, while a bit obvious, gave her ‘hope’, sorta, but she had been hoping for something more ‘material’ than friendship to lean on.

Something must have shown on her face, because Steve reconsidered, “maybe something to draw on.” He said at the end, “it helps me focus and centre myself. Drawing is relaxing. You should find something they like and go with that.”

She nodded. “I see, thanks, Steve!” She smiled. While not very helpful, it was something she could work with.

Sam Wilson didn’t give her a much different answer. He was the Avenger’s psychological godsend slash personal enabler (no one could pile chips on the nose as well as Sam Wilson, no one!). His answer, however, apart from quoting the TLC manual (it’s Love, not love) by heart, involved colourful pillows and feathers. “My brother gave it to me from one of his travels. It’s my lucky item, it reminds me so much of him it almost feels like home.”

And yup. This gave her so many ideas.

Thank you, Sam.

They were snuggled into the futon in Jane’s living room of Thor’s quarters (and if you tried to pronounce it as Thor did, it became even more of a mouthful). It was raining buckets, and they were watching it pelt the windows of the room. It was kind of hypnotic, with its tap tap tap on the glass.

Darcy yawned loudly, and Wanda used the moment she was distracted to steal a bit of the covers.

“Sneaky.” She said, mock hurt. The young woman giggled a bit. “I’m going to turn in, this rain is making my brain melt.”

And she fell back on the futon and made a great scene of fumbling for the missing covers. “Alas, I’ll die of cold!”

Wanda laughed, “It’s June!”

“Fancy that! In June!” She snagged a bit of the covers Wanda was draped to and pulled.

They fell laughing in a tangle of covers.

“Someone’s trying to sleep, children!” That was Jane.

They giggled harder. “Sorry, boss lady!”

The rain didn’t waver one bit, the wind howling outside despite the updraught wind effect being actually mitigated by the Tower (never be said that Tony Stark was not a genius).

“This reminds me of Novi Grad,” Wanda whispered.

Darcy tried very, very hard not to stiffen, to look too interested or too jump at the conversation starter. Because Wanda (and Pietro, for the few times they’d actually talked - Helen was a tyrant in her hospital wing - ) never talked about Sokovia.

“Oh?” Be cool, Darcy. be cool.

“Mh. In September we get this heavy rain and wind. Pietro and I would sneak into abandoned garages during that time. Best moment to find shelter for winter.”

Yeah. Darcy knew they’d grown up on the streets. She snuggled a bit closer and Wanda snaked an arm under her.

“Do you miss Novi Grad?”

Wanda considered this, and weighed her words for a while, “I do not miss the hunger. We did not have food, or shelter, for weeks. I do miss the people, not all. But it was home.”

“And now it’s all lost.” Darcy whispered.

“Yes,” Wanda sighed. “But not all people. We can always rebuild the church, or the square, but we cannot rebuild the people, or the memories… But we did not have much, really.”

“Well,” Darcy hedged, “you can always start making new memories here?”

“That is true,” she smiled, “but I will miss home.”

Darcy didn’t know how to reply to that, because it was true. She didn’t miss her foster homes, but she understood. She missed her adopted brother pretty badly, too.

“I had this pillow.” She started. Wanda’s eyes drifted to hers. “My grandmother made it for me, when I was tiny. So when I entered the system--the foster system--I always brought it with me. It made ‘home’ less far away.” She offered.

Wanda nodded, “we had something like that. A glass...лебедь? It is luck for Sokovians. We brought it with us when we joined Strucker. I do not know what it came of it.” She shrugged, and went for more covers.

Darcy’s breath caught. This had given her ideas, and she knew who to bring this to.

“You want me to what ?!”

“Please, Clint? Please ? I’m begging you!”

“Nope, not happening. No, Darcy. Nope.”

“Nat! Clint doesn’t want to help me out with this!”

“Nat! Tell her no, Nat, seriously. Nat !”

Pietro was released on a Wednesday.

Wanda’s excitement was contagious and all over the Avengers facilities in the Tower people were smiling.

Dr Cho’s warnings to take it easy were heeded for exactly three seconds before Pietro went back to speeding around with his sister in his arms.

No one really had the heart to stop them. Freedom was a wonderful, beautiful thing.

And then Pietro almost pulled a muscle and they had to bodily wrestle them to the sofa. Well, Steve did, the others didn’t have much chance with Natasha out of the Tower.

After having shot down Tony and his ‘we’re alive’ party for the fourth time, it was concluded that a Movie Night was the way to celebrate.

And while the Avengers argued about what movie to watch, Darcy felt some sort of weird pride as she watched her big dysfunctional family (she was going to be mature and not point out the fact that Wanda hadn’t so much as looked at her since her brother had been out. She understood).

It was towards the ending that Natasha slipped into the room without being noticed, entered her field of vision and nodded.

Darcy made an excited noise that attracted the attention of everyone in the room. She blushed and coughed awkwardly. Natasha chuckled quietly.

“Sorry, sorry…” she said, “carry on.”

Tony shot her a suspicious look, but they let it go in favour of watching the little devils scram in front of the “Opopomoz” word (it was June , why they were watching a Christmas movie was beyond her).

As soon as the movie was over, everyone retreated into their rooms. Darcy crossed her fingers and went to bed.

She didn’t even reach her floor when the elevator’s door dinged at… a completely different one that wasn’t Thor’s.

“FRIDAY?” she asked.

“Apologies, Miss Lewis. Miss Maximoff would like to speak to you.”

Oh . Well, she had wanted to give them privacy, she knew how private Wanda was about her space.

“Yeah, I mean, sure, no problem… I’ll just-”

The elevator’s doors opened and Wanda bolted inside without waiting for her to exit.

“Hey-Oof!” She was being crushed. The girl had an extremely strong grip for one whose powers involved the mind and not the body.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

“...You’re welcome?” She returned the hug. She had a pretty good idea of what she was talking about. “It was actually Nat, you know? I had no idea of where to find the thing, she went with Clint and retrieved it from Strucker’s castle. It’s a miracle it was intact, being made of glass and everything…”

Wanda smiled and dragged her to the Maximoffs’ rooms.

“Seriously girl, what do you eat ? You’re basically carrying me, and I’m no Kate Moss…” Darcy complained jokingly.

The young woman laughed in response.

And yep, the glass swan was at the centre of the room, on top of the coffee table (that did not become a futon). There were also colorful sheets, doilies everywhere, a couple of handmade quilts, pillows and even a colored feather like Sam had suggested.

“Thank you so much. It looks so different!”

“You’re welcome” Darcy said with sentiment, “I know it’s not home… yet. But it might be? Besides, now it’s more colorful.”

Wanda’s smile was brighter than the sun.

Life went on and Wanda and Pietro settled right into the Avengers.

They ate, trained and slept at a normal pace.

And while Wanda was back to her affectionate self, Darcy kind of missed their nights on the living room in Jane’s rooms in Thor’s floor (and yep, this would be the eternal definition forever). She missed it, but it was so good to see that the young Maximoff had found her footing that she was more than willing to stomp on her loneliness for this.

“Shortstack, I’m hurt!”

Darcy started. “What’s up Tony? I didn’t start working on your case yet! You’ve been awake for…” She checked her clock, “no more than 12 hours? I still have like ten more before shutting down your labs!”

“Well no, nice try, you’re not touching my labs, not today. What I mean to saaay...” he was dragging this for longer than it was necessary, “was that I’m hurt that you never told me you were still bunking on your girlfriend’s floor!”

“...What? I’m not bunking on my gir- wait a minute.”

Tony smirked, “almost. No, seriously, why are you bunking in with Foster?”

Darcy stared at him like he had grown two heads. “Tony, that’s where I’ve always slept since London. Remember? Unpaid intern here!”

He looked at her strangely. “Okay, time to remedy to that. No more bunking on floors. Nope, no. I’ll give you a new room, somewhere. FRIDAY, check to see if we have free rooms upstairs, no buts Sparky, we’ll get you settled somewhere else. I bet you just love when Thor’s home, yep…”

And he walked out, without waiting for any sort of excuse or answer or anything. Darcy smelled the coffee she had in her hands. Nope, it was coffee and not vodka.

What just happened?

The new rooms were fine.

Darcy spent two days to make them perfect. They were so her it was beautiful.

She felt so alone.

She’d been living and sleeping with someone for the last six years, adapting to silence during the night was harder than she thought it would be.

Knock, knock .

She checked her clock, twice. 2am. That was weird.

She opened her door.

It was Wanda. She had a pillow in her hands and was wearing pjs.

She smiled “So, hey.” she fidgeted. “Pietro’s doing the burrito thing, and I’m not used to sleeping alone and Nat would kill me if I asked, so I wondered, do you want to share tonight?”

Darcy stared. It was almost the exact words she’d said to her. And with the same sad face.

She giggled a bit at that, and opened the door.

“Come in.”

#darcy lewis #darcyland #darcy x wanda #wanda maximoff #fluff just because #gift

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