For your requests! 🥰 The Fourteenth Doctor being the best Uncle to Rose 🥹

I see them spending hours talking about Doctors adventures after Rose shows him the toys she made

The Lonely Angel

A/N: This is pretty platonic, and the idea is inspired by another story on AO3, it’s great so I definitely recommend it. I don’t post often and this is the first story I’ve posted on here in a long time so hope you like it!

P.s.- Sorry if the formatting is a little weird, I copy and pasted from google docs...

An Enigma of Broken Wings by Catlorde

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS cautiously. Once more, the TARDIS had taken him somewhere he hadn’t been meaning to go, in fact, he was trying to take Donna to an alien market that he had once gone to. Instead, he poked his head out to find the TARDIS parked in the middle of a cemetery on Earth, around the same time that he had picked Donna up from if he was correct.

“Unless there’s another planet identical to Earth, I’m pretty sure we’re not on Kalla-whats-it,” Donna remarked as she followed behind him and they both looked around curiously.

“Uh, no, this is Earth, United States, Michigan, 2008 to be exact,” He tugged at his ear as he stuffed one hand in his jacket sheepishly.

“What are we doing here then? Or are you just that bad of a driver?” The redhead snipped at him and he rolled his eyes and huffed.

“I am the best driver around, I’ll have you know,” he snarked right back as they began strolling around curiously. “I’m not sure why we’re here but there’s no harm in looking around.”

The continued looking around quietly, looking for anything out of the normal that would have drawn the TARDIS and the Doctor there but there wasn’t anything out of place that they could find, no people, no signs of alien life or events. That was, until Donna took notice of a particular statue stationed in the center of the cemetery. “That statue sure is pretty, too bad it’s so run down,” Donna remarked as she gestured to said statue. “It’s a little sad though.”

At the center of all the gravestones, there was what seemed like a stone bench with a statue of an angel kneeled beside it, it’s arms resting on the bench with her head buried in its arms, its wings sprawled gracefully behind her and donned in a simple white dress that clung to her form scarily realistically. Like Donna had said, the statue was beautiful despite the obvious aging, the stone worn down, turning green from weather, plants starting to creep up her legs and dress, and stone chipped in some places. The only odd thing about it was the old radio resting at her feet, in a similar state as the statue itself.

At first, the Doctor didn’t think anything of it as they slowly approached the statue to get a better look at it. However, the Doctor pulled Donna to a stop when they saw a chipmunk climb up the stone and approach the bare arm of the statue and gently nudge it with its nose, as if the statue would come to life and pet it. Despite the gentleness of the scene, the only thing that happened was the chipmunk disappearing before their eyes.

“Donna, do not blink, do not look away from the statue, don’t touch it, and don’t blink,” The Doctor ordered sternly as he pulled out his sonic screwdriver to scan the statue quickly, not looking away for a moment.

“What, why? What is it?” Donna questioned, a hint of panic in her voice.

“Don’t look away from it,” the Doctor ordered once more when he noticed Donna turn to question him.

“Why? What is it?!” Donna asked once more, this time not moving her gaze away from the statue.

“A Weeping Angel,” the Doctor answered her solemnly as he continued to scan the angel and the stone she was sprawled against.

“Okay, and what is a Weeping Angel?” Donna fished for more answers, becoming irritated with the short responses.

“The kindest assassins in the universe. A Weeping Angel doesn’t just outright kill you, they send you back to the past to live out your life and consume the years that you should have had in the present, that’s what happened to the chipmunk,” The Doctor explained distractedly.

“And why can’t I look away from it?”

“Because they have the most solid defences in the universe as well. They’re quantum locked, as soon as they fall under the gaze of any living thing, they turn to stone, because you can’t kill a stone and a stone can’t kill you. But then you blink, you look away, and yes it can,” The Doctor finished ominously and the two were silent for a minute as Donna absorbed the information and the Doctor finished scanning the statue and looking around the area. “I don’t get it though, Angels usually hunt in groups, even if it's just a couple, like four or so. But this one is alone, there isn’t another Angel anywhere in the city, let alone the state. And the plants around it signify that it hasn’t moved in years, I’d say ten at the least, and erosion suggests that it hasn’t had significant food in the same amount of time.” The Doctor furrowed his brow as his thoughts raced, trying to figure out why the Angel was here. It wasn’t trapped, it wasn’t well fed, it wasn’t even in an area where it had access to people. “One thing is for sure though, this has to be the loneliest creature I have ever come across.” The Doctor continued to explain without being prompted, “Weeping Angels, even in groups, are still the loneliest creatures in the universe since they can’t even look at each other or they’ll turn to stone, freeze. However, Angels have a weak telepathic connection, allowing them to communicate on some level, which is why they stay in groups. But this one is by itself.”

The two of them frowned as they looked at the Angel, still tense but slowly relaxing as they realized that the Angel hadn’t moved even when the both of them had scanned the area to look for other Angels. “Poor thing, what do we do then?” Donna asked with empathy clear in her voice.

“I’m not sure, if we touch it, we risk being sent back to the past, without the TARDIS, leaving us trapped, but we can’t just leave it here,” The Doctor frowned thoughtfully.

The two of them blinked however when the radio flickered to life without either of them having touched it. There was static as the radio seemed to adjust before the sound of a young woman’s voice came through, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

The Doctor and Donna blinked in shock at the sound of the voice before the Doctor questioned, “Who are we speaking to?”

There was a pause as the voice seemed to think for a moment, “Me, I think.”

“Whose voice are you using?” The Doctor asked, a little bit of anger in his voice as he knew somewhat that the Angel wouldn’t have been able to use the voice without spending time around said person.

The voice paused once more, “I think it was mine.” The Doctor blinked in shock as Donna frowned, confused.

“What do you mean?” Donna asked softly, concerned for the statue she held empathy for.

“I used to draw a lot, I think. I saw an angel statue once, in the park near my house, and I drew it. I stared at it so long, my eyes started to hurt. I got dizzy and fell. It was late. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t move. Then I was stone,” The woman explained, the sadness in her voice obvious as she tried to remember the events. The Doctor and Donna’s hearts clenched painfully as they realized that this was once a woman with a life and a family. “The other one didn’t like me. She didn’t like that I didn’t send them back. She and the others left. I stayed.”

“What happened to your family,” The Doctor asked softly, even though he could figure out what happened.

“They were sad. They left too. They took everything but this stone. They left this stone here. Animals keep me company. They’re kind. They feed me when I’m hungry.”

The Doctor nodded as that explained what had happened with the chipmunk earlier. He thought it odd that an animal would approach a Weeping Angel so willingly. He went around to the other side of the bench where there was an inscription, what they had thought was a bench, was actually a grave.

“In Loving Memory of…

(Your Full Name)

Daughter

Sister

May 8th, 1976-October 20th, 1998

“Life is more than just what we see…” ~(Y/n)”

He looked down sadly as he realized this was the woman’s own grave and she probably didn’t even realize it. She sounded like an amazing woman, it was difficult to think that a woman he would have liked to meet was now reduced to a statue living, no, existing off the kindness of the animals around her.

Donna joined him on the other side of the stone and gasped softly as she came to the same realization, “Your name was(Y/n)?”

There was another pause as the Angel thought for a moment, trying to remember, “I… think so.”

“It’s a beautiful name,” The Doctor remarked softly as they gazed down at the Weeping Angel.

“Is it? I think I liked it too,” the woman replied thoughtfully. It was sad for Donna and the Doctor, that this woman was once living a bright and happy life, and now she could barely remember it.

“Doctor, we can’t just leave her here,” Donna told him softly and he agreed silently even though he had no idea what they would do. He was reluctant to bring the Angel into the TARDIS as it would be an eternal food source for the statue. However, he couldn’t leave the once human woman here to slowly waste away as stone.

As if knowing his thoughts, the woman spoke once more, “It’s okay, you can leave me here, the animals are kind to me,” She spoke simply as if that was all she truly needed, which made the Doctor’s hearts clench even tighter. He knew what it was like to be by oneself. That deep sense of loneliness that settled into your soul and wasn’t easily shaken.

That just solidified his decision, “You can come with us. The TARDIS can make a room for you and we can visit you everyday. You don’t have to be lonely anymore,” The Doctor offered kindly.

At that moment, both Donna and the Doctor blinked, and in that split second, the Angel turned their head to look up at them in shock, which they returned. The Angel had her hair tied up in the same fashion as any other Weeping Angel, a little more softly so that some hair could frame her features, but her face was significantly different. Instead of the sharp teeth and frightening snarl that he expected, they were instead greeted by soft features and a kind face. She was beautiful. “Really?” She questioned innocently.

Neither of them responded for a moment, shocked by the beauty of the statue before them. After shaking themselves from their surprise, the Doctor answered her innocent question, “Of course. You’ve spent enough time by yourself.” After a moment of hesitation, the Doctor looked away, offering his hand to the statue in a show of trust, which Donna followed. For a minute, the Doctor waited, he was about to take his hand back when another hand slid into his. It was a strange feeling. A living hand of stone that wasn’t quite stone at the moment. When he knew she was standing, he began walking back to the TARDIS, Donna walking alongside him, opposite the hand that was holding the Angel’s, (Y/n)’s. It was a strange walk back, both having to fight the urge to look back at the Angel as it would halt their progress.

Once the trio got to the TARDIS, the Doctor hesitated for a moment before opening the door to his most precious belonging. Then, he tightened the hold he had on the Angel’s hand as a reminder of what he was doing and why. This woman had been alone long enough. He led the woman down the hall that the TARDIS lit for them, leading them to a new room that neither the Doctor or Donna had seen before. The Doctor opened the door to what looked like the outdoors, a large field of long grass and wildflowers, in the distance, they could see a lake in the distance with a willow tree next to it and a forest beyond it. It was a beautiful setting that fit the Angel behind them.

The both of them closed their eyes to let the Angel ahead of them to familiarize herself with her new home. “Thank you,” the Woman breathed softly in awe and the two opened their eyes. The Angel had set the old radio she had carried with her down at her feet as she had wandered a few meters into the field, now frozen in a standing position, her head tilted back in the light as she soaked in the sky and the artificial sun pleasantly. The Doctor could feel the slow yet steady stream of energy the sun gave off as the Angel revitalized before their eyes, the signs of weather and corrosion fading away. She was even more beautiful now than when they had first seen her, now that she was whole and they could see her face. Unlike Weeping Angels who were Angels their entire existence, (Y/n) was a light grey, unlike the ominous dark grey of other Weeping Angels.

“We’ll leave you to explore, the TARDIS will transmit you to wherever we are in the TARDIS if you want to talk,” The Doctor told her kindly and as he blinked, she turned to look at him with a smile that warmed his hearts, glad he made the decision that he did.

“Thank you,” She repeated once more.

The two left the room, closing the door behind them as they returned to the console room. After a moment, Donna spoke, a content tone to her voice, “We did good today, eh, Spaceman.” His hands rested comfortably in his pockets as he thought back to the kind Angel they now housed on the TARDIS. “Life is more than just what we see…”

“Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

The End

-Being The Duke’s Assistant- (3)

(a/n: some people really like this fic lol so here’s another chapter for y’all! also if you want a chapter 4 then please comment and reblog! otherwise I won’t have the motivation to keep writing more! thank you! <3)

–

-Learning About The Lords-

–

You’d seen more of your ex-neighbors since your run in with Vasile Kazloŭ the week previous. Seems word got around the village that you’d not in fact frozen to death or been caught and dragged into the woods by some snarling beast. And you knew a good few of them were just stopping by the Duke’s carriage under the guise of shopping just to see if those rumors were true. Not that you particularly cared what your ex-neighbors did now. If seeing you for whatever reason got them to buy something from the Duke then no skin off your nose. 

But today was different. Today the Duke said he’d be educating you on his biggest trade deals. Such deals being the Four Lords of the village. You’ll admit you gulped at hearing that. The four lords were quite notorious to the people of the village. And not for anything good despite what the fanatics would like to think..

Lady Dimitrescu, the mysterious lady who ruled the imposing castle upon the mountain that takes young women in to work but never lets them leave again. There’s a saying in the village that if a girl you know is going to work at Castle Dimitrescu then you should shower her in kisses since you’ll never see her again.

Lady Beneviento, the mysterious veiled doll maker who lives in a shadowy haunted manor that makes all those who enter there see their deceased family members. Seeing visions of the dead drives all who enter there to insanity. Most never leave, but the few who do are never the same as they were upon entering.

Lord Moreau, the monstrous looking recluse who controls the giant killer fish that has swallowed whole more than its fair share of poor fishermen of the village. It terrorized the workers at the Reservoir, devouring men like fish until they’d had enough and abandoned the site. It now sits in decay, waiting for the next fool to wander in.

Lord Heisenberg, the lord who owns the cryptic factory on the very edge of the village, where all the dead villagers bodies are sent and never seen again. Rumor has it that it used to be a coal mine but nobody living from the village has set foot in the rusted structure in decades. But despite this the factory’s smokestacks constantly billow dark soot into the sky.

Every villager knew of the four Lords. 

But apparently you were going to be learning more detail on them. Which you admit to not having much of. All you knew is what most every other villager knew. To be wary, be respectful, to pay your tributes, and do not draw attention to yourself otherwise. Those that drew attention were quite often known to draw their last breath.

The Duke it seemed was on good terms with each of the lords, at least you assumed so since he talked about them quite candidly. Not whispering their names in a hushed tone or with any amount of fearful reverence. Actually he talked about them as if they were just fellow business partners he has evening tea with. Which... well as far as you knew, could very well be the truth. But despite the Duke’s blasé outlook you felt yourself tense up when he mentioned how, as his assistant, you would be accompanying him on his future meetings with them, so it was best he told you about them now so you didn’t go in blind. Part of you wanted to just avoid that by not even going into the same building as the four lords. But the Duke squashed that thought by saying he couldn’t very well leave you to sit and twiddle your thumbs in the carriage while he was inside. 

Which you supposed you should have seen coming. You were his assistant after all. Where he goes, you go. It’s your whole job. So you steeled your resolve and took solace in knowing that while under the Duke’s protection you would be fine. you weren’t some random villager now thankfully. But even still... seeing the towering Castle Dimitrescu looming in the distance made you queasy. Your mind swam with the stories you’d been told as a child, warning you of what laid in that castle. The carriage drew closer to the imposing structure but you remained straight faced, not wanting to reveal how anxious you were. Plus, if you were being honest? This was all pretty exciting in a way! You’d left the village years ago sure, met lots of new people while you studied abroad. You learned about all the goings on of the world outside your simple village. But all of that paled in comparison to getting to meet the Four Lords.

You hoped you didn’t embarrass yourself..

-0-

While you got closer to the castle the Duke told you about the first Lord, Lady Dimitrescu and House Dimitrescu. Apparently they were famous for their incredible wine. The Duke even admitted to having a bottle of it himself stored away in the back. “For special occasions,” he told you with a smile. You also learned that House Dimitrescu also had their own vineyard where they grew all the grapes that went into the wine they made. He also revealed that there was a ‘rumor’ that Lady Dimitrescu had a very special bottle of wine in her possession, one that has belonged to her family for generations, that was called Sanguis Virginis. And its literal translation is "maiden's blood". The Duke was a touch vague on the wine, but he said that Alcina Dimitrescu has a secret process that enriches the wine’s flavor and gives it a thick bouquet. 

After that he began talking about the second Lord, Lady Beneviento and House Beneviento. The Duke spoke with a sad tone here, saying the Beneviento family slowly fell apart a long time ago. One by one the family members disappeared. And the current head of the household, Donna Beneviento, had a sister when she was a child, Claudia. But Claudia grew ill and passed away, causing her parents to grow depressed and soon after take their own lives, leaving poor Donna alone. The Duke knows Donna to be very kind, but also very lonely. She’s an incredibly skilled doll maker, even better than her father had been when he was alive. But she has trouble speaking with people without the aid of the doll friend, Angie, that her father gifted her as a little girl. He warned you that Angie could be a bit of a troublemaker, chuckling as he did.

Then came the third Lord, Salvatore Moreau of House Moreau. You raised an eyebrow when you noticed the small hint of revulsion in the Duke’s voice as he spoke about this lord. It seems that Moreau was... an odd one. The Duke tried to speak kindly of the man but even he, with his usual jovial outlook, couldn’t hide the slight way he cringed as he explained Moreau’s history. It seemed he had been a sailor at some point, and the very last of his family line, but some years ago he’d... changed physically to the point where he avoided people. He hid himself at the Reservoir his family owned and scarcely stepped foot outside of it. And after one too many... accidents there the workers abandoned the place, leaving Moreau alone to wallow in his self pity. The Duke warned you that Moreau did not look... human. And he asked you to please not stare at the man. He wouldn’t appreciate it, surely.

And then the final Lord, Karl Heisenberg of House Heisenberg. The Duke warned you that despite Lord Heisenberg’s rather casual sounding attitude, the man was quite harsh. And his factory was incredibly dangerous. He warned you to never stray from his side while there, for your own safety. You gulped but nodded as he continued. It seems the Heisenberg factory was a coal mining factory. You discovered that the Lord was an engineer, but the Duke revealed that he’d been known to tinker with things other than machines as well. That ominous note made your stomach drop. But you felt your anxiety lift a bit when the Duke told you that he was Lord Heisenberg’s supplier for a certain machine part he needs in bulk, so the man knew not to upset him. So you would be fine.

“But I think we’ll have to cut our conversation short, it seems we’ve arrived at Castle Dimitrescu,” the Duke said in a cheery tone you weren’t matching.

‘For any god listening to me... let us be alright,’ you thought helplessly.

-0-

Beyond the Bay Chapter 12 - Hidden City

Summary: The turtles go off in search of a new rift in the Hidden City

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @ilo-artistry

Leo hated every part of this. The sun was up, so they should be down, and out of sight. He had known his counterparts long enough to know how loose they often played with the rules his family followed so diligently, but to take to the streets under the danger of daylight for something that could easily wait for the blanket of night was absurd! In his two decades of life, Leo could count the amount of daylight explorations he had taken on two hands; the risk was hardly ever worth it. Despite the prickling insecurities inside him, Leo pushed himself onward to follow Raphael’s lead. This city was so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. So easy to get lost in. Leo found himself picking out familiar buildings to assure that this place was still New York, even in this toony world so colorful that he could almost believe a pallet of paint had been spilled over it. This was New York and New York would always be home, even if home was a whole dimension away.

Raphael’s guidance brought the group of anxious turtles to an alleyway. They dropped down from above; Leo felt a shutter go through his body, a cold chill seizing his senses and stealing away his breath as he passed through something that seemed almost… green. The sudden shock made him stutter, his balance unsteady enough to knock over a trash can upon landing. With a clutter and a clang the silver bin fell and rolled, several more loud crashes sounding off each time it hit something. The eyes of Donnie and Raph turned to the shock-stricken Leo, who could only stare with his wide, cerulean eyes. The people walking past in the streets to either side, just feet away from what they’d see as monsters, didn’t stopped. Leo let himself breathe and the three brothers, muscles still tensed and ready to hide at the slightest sign of trouble, moved back into a tight formation around their younger counterparts.

“What are we doing here?” Leo couldn’t contain it anymore and he had to ask. His voice was a low whisper. “We could be seen!”

“Relax.” Leonardo laughed, and his voice wasn’t at all soft. He was met with three sets of shhhhh from the Splintersons, but laughed each of them off, “This alleyway has a mystic shimmer. We can see them.” He cleared his throat, “BUT THEY CAN’T SEE OR HEAR US!”

True to his word, the people in the street kept on their way as if the turtles didn't even exist. So that was what Leo felt! What had made him stumble!  The cautious tension in Donnie was immediately replaced by heart-fluttering curiosity. He couldn’t resist a high-pitched whistle, striding away from the group before Leo could say a word to stop him; he went as close as he dared to the end of the alleyway, waving and laughing and calling out to the streets with, to his utter joy, no response.

“This is so cool this is so cool this is so cool!” Donnie’s voice got higher with each repeat, flapping his wrists, “W-what is it, some type of four-lensed blind spot? O-or something using metamaterials or—?”

“Noooo, it’s mystic.” Leonardo said, and with a snap of his fingers Michelangelo perked up. He removed a small item that had been hidden in the rainbow pouch around his neck, the artifact attached to him by a slim golden collar; it was almost like a keychain he hung around his neck. “And so is this.”

Leo eyed the little trinket curiously; in shape, it was similar to Donatello’s gift, except with greens and golds instead of orange and reds. He could have mistaken it for an oddly colored compass with kanji if he hadn’t seen that familiar, lop-sided M in the middle. The compass itself was pointing directly at the wall, glowing the most vibrant neon and pulsing slightly. Leo could feel the energy radiating.

With a hand as steady as a seasoned artist, Michelangelo traced the trinket across the wall using the M as a guiding map. Before the astonished eyes of the Splinterson brothers, the compass left what looked almost like a trail of paint in its wake, except it didn't drip, and when Michelangelo had completed his work it began to glow. It was green at first, then shifted into a soft baby blue, and then into white as the faux paint finally started to drip and melt into a doorway. Leo felt an immediate draw toward it, like the force that would try to lasso them into Leonardo’s rift except not as strong. Raph gave a simple hiss in response, pulling back and shaking his head while Donnie did the exact opposite, reaching for the rift as if it were the most precious treasure. 

“I thought only your Leo could make rifts…” Leo said.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Leonardo asked, dancing over to stand proud at Leo’s side, “Portals are the only way into the Hidden City!”

“Hidden City?” Raph breathed through his teeth, eyes still fixed on the rift.

“Yeah!” Raphael said unhelpfully, “You three should stay close to us; the mystic types can be pretty jarring for first timers.”

Raph started to say, “I think I can handle them” before he felt a gentle tug at his hand. Raph looked to see Michelangelo holding his hand, resting his full weight against Raphael’s arm without the older mutant so much as flinching. Michelangelo’s eyes were wide, the colors flowing in them like a warm sunset as he beamed up at his friend.

“Don’t be scared, Raphie! You can hold my hand if you want to!”

“Uh…” Looking down at this tiny, vibrant young shinobi that barely came up to his stomach in height, Raph couldn’t say anything except, “Y-yeah, sure. Thanks kid…”

Michelangelo have a happy giggle and wiggled his joy. He snatched Donnie with his other hand before the tallest box turtle could get very far.

“You can hold my hand too, Donna!”

“Donna?” Raph breathed through his nose, then laughed, “Hell yeah. Down with the patriarchy.”

Donnie, upon being grabbed by Michelangelo, had much the same reaction as Raph. He didn't know what to do, and then he fell to soft adoration as he realized he would do anything for this kid.

“Thanks Mike.”

“Can I hold your hand too?” Leo asked brightly

Michelangelo’s expression flattened. “Only got two hands, Leon.”

Donatello cleared his throat and stepped forward to motion the first group through the rift. “Please keep your hands and feet inside the mystic rift until the ride has ended, keep all personals close as we will not be liable for any limbs or items that may turn up missing. Keep your shells on, your heads low, and watch out for portal jackers as we take this small voyage to Run-Of-The-Mill pizza.”

With that, Michelangelo and the two other box turtles that had to crouch to be able to hold his hand went through the rift without fear. Leo, his mouth still hanging open, turned to look at Raphael, who could only shrug before going through the rift himself. 

“Lady’s first~” Leonardo gave what could have resembled a polite bow if not for the mocking tone, motioning Leo through first.

Leo sucked in a breath, shaking the nervous jitters like water off a duck's back before he stepped through. The pull was very much so like the rift he and his family had taken to wind up in this world to begin with, except less painful. When he opened his eyes again he was standing in… a restaurant?

The smell of cumin and Chili filled the air. The feeling of the polished floor under Leo’s feet was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Like ice, except not cold; soft, but hard at the same time if that was possible. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the building and more details were quick to come to him; wooden booths with dark brown cushions and tables clean enough to shine under the candlelight that filled the restaurant; the candles, it seemed, were held up by nothing at all! They were shaped almost like they were living; Leo thought it nothing more than a cool design before he realized they actually were living! Living candles with curves and form almost like human women, their hair the flaming candle wicks and the bottom of their shafts flowing out like a ball gown! Closer still and Leo could even begin to make out tiny, detailed faces!

“You want your normal seats I presume?” 

Leo blinked and shook his head as the familiar voice brought him back down to earth. Though he hadn’t seen Hueso in just over two years, the skeleton man had hardly changed at all. The calaca’s white pupils danced across the group with a curious hum.

“And shall I double your usual then?” Hueso queried.

“Bone man!” Leonardo explained, scooping Hueso up in a hug before the older yokai could make his escape. “Good to see ya!”

“Wish I could say the same.” Hueso grumbled, then added bitterly, “Problem child…”

“And that’s why you love me!” Leonardo blew a kiss, “Now Hueso, you remember the other us’s, right?”

“Unfortunately, it’s a pleasure to remake your acquaintance.”

Hueso was met with three half-hearted mutters of greeting; none of the Splintersons were even looking at him! Why would they when there were so many different creatures to see? In most every booth and table and barstool were mutants out of a fantasy book; beings even Donnie couldn’t single out as anything familiar! Some of them had characteristics that could have been compared to more natural animals— tentacles and fangs and frills. Creatures as big as an elephant or small as a shrew, with varying table sizes to accommodate all in between.

“Hey, listen bone man.” Leonardo tried to whisk Hueso away for a private conversation, but Hueso ducked to avoid the fate. His eyes and Leonardo’s were locked until Leonardo backed down, “We need a favor.”

“Don’t you always?” Hueso asked, “Seems every time you come to pay a visit it is for your own gain.”

“What? Noooo! Me? Noo!” Leonardo scoffed, waving a dismissive hand and laughing before quickly giving up the ruse, “It’s important this time. We need to find a yokai who sells decent rifts at an affordable price, and we need it like yesterday if we want to get these boys home.”

Hueso hummed, bringing his fingers to his mouth as he considered. “Define affordable.”

“Somewhere in the price range of… eight hundred US dollars or nine thousand Japanese yen.” Donatello said.

Hueso hissed through his teeth. “You won’t get any that cheap. Cheapest I know of would be Monroe, but quality rifters at his place run upward to three million pesos.”

Donatello took out his phone and ran some quick calculations. “Okay guess we’re not eating this month.”

“Wish I could be of more help pepino.” Hueso said, turning to leave while he was still talking, “I’ll go get you directions to Monroe.”

~~~

“This looks like the place…” Donatello said, and he indicated a small sliver of alleyway squeezed between two tall buildings.

“Doesn’t look like much.” Raph huffed; Michelangelo still had a tight hold on his and Donnie’s hands for support.

“But it is discrete though.” Donnie pointed out; his mind was still wandering, trying its best to soak up the tangled stimuli from the buildings and the mutants that looked almost like something out of a cartoon! Like a child had drawn these characters and these structures and planted them together in a bright, yet disorienting, array of flashing colors. “I’d hate to be an epileptic in this place…”

“Are we… gonna be able to fit through there?” Leo asked, his question directed toward Leonardo.

Leonardo flashed Leo a warning glare before saying, “Raph, are you and the guys gonna be able to fit?”

Raphael gave a low whine. His beak crinkled in concentration as his first idea was to simply walk forward, which proved him too wide. Then he huffed and turned sideways, but was still too bulky. It seemed Raphael ran out of ideas, so Donatello cleared his throat.

“If I could direct everyone’s attention slightly upwaaaard~”

Following his motion, they found what could have resembled a bell hanging above the alleyway. It looked as if it were made of slime with little chunks of something floating inside. Raph cringed at the sight of it, but Raphael gave a far too curious ooo and reached to touch it. Leonardo quickly stepped between Raphael and the slime-bell.

“No no no no, no no. No.” Leonardo said, forcing Raphael back, “Bad Raph.”

“I wasn’t gonna eat it.” Raphael pouted.

Leonardo narrowed his eyes. Raphael stuck out his bottom lip and tapped his fingers. 

“Okay I was gonna eat it. You can ring it.”

“Eh… not sure if I want to…” Despite his words, Leonardo reached up and took the slimy rope of the bell, a texture not unlike a worm, and yanked on it. Instead of ringing, it gave off a sound like a foghorn blowing that made every turtle cover their ears, though Leonardo removed his hands from his head just as quickly when he realized it was still covered in slime. “Ew ew ew ew—“

There was a pop and they were swallowed by a slimy, green bubble. What followed was mixed reactions of terror and disgust as they moved into a tighter group, shell to shell with the bigger ones surrounding the smaller. The bubble lifted then off their feet and through the wall like they had no matter at all, carried past the narrow door and lowered to the ground on the other side before the slime bubble popped and left them confused and disgruntled.

“What is this place?” Donnie was the first to separate from the group to look around. The space around them was not unlike an auction house, filled with all sorts of items on display. They filled shelf after shelf after shelf, placed around with no true order. Looking up would reveal several more floors, all just as filled with artifacts and creatures for purchase, with a convenient opening through the middle of each floor.

“Looks like some sort of witchy auction place…” Raph commented. Not to be outdone by his younger brother, Raph separated and started to investigate the place for himself, “How does a grimy grifter get a place like this?”

“Wait a minute…” Leonardo frowned as he looked around, “Wait— I know this place.”

Raph picked up a gem-encrusted chalice, turning it around curiously. “Huh. Fancy.”

“Raph, don’t touch anything.” Leo groaned.

“What?” Raph scoffed, “Guess you don’t want me to do this either, huh?”

He began to juggle the chalice with surprising style.

“Raph, stop that!” Leo tried to intervene, but that only seemed to egg Raph on. He danced out of Leo’s reach, laughing as he pretended to drop the decor before catching it at the last second, “I’m serious!”

Raph only laughed. At least, he was laughing until he actually did drop it— right on the head of a small, purple yokai who had been observing the scene, as still as one of his statues. Raph swore, trying to recover the drop but it was too late. It sank into the yokai’s head as if he were made of pure gelatin, and they could still see the gold through the flesh and skin. The purple yokai blinked, and Raph screamed.

The purple yokai’s skin shifted into flowing rings of yellow and orange that forced the chalice up and out of his head, into his hand. He didn't look like much— something akin to a slug if anything— with a soft beak and a snaggle tooth like Raphael’s only smaller. He breathed onto the chalice and wiped it off with his sleeve before placing it back on the shelf.

“Please don’t touch.”

“YOU!” Leonardo pointed accusingly, “You’re that slug guy who sold me wallet-stealing hair! You’re Monroe?!”

“That’s a talking slug—” Raph withdrew back into the crowd of his brothers, eyes wide. 

Donnie gasped, pulling his goggles down over his eyes and advancing as quickly as Raph had retreated. The slug drew into himself, his entire body constricting like a squeezed stress ball. Leo visibly cringed, while Raphael and his brothers didn't seem all that bothered beyond a few yawns or comforting pats for Raph.

“This is incredible— there’s compounds in him that fail to be isolated or traced!” Donnie picked up one of the slugs arms to investigate every inch of him. “He doesn’t even seem to be carbon based at all; there’s elements I can’t even identify— what…?” Donnie pulled up his goggles as the astonishment gave way to a confused frown, “Is— is he a mutant?”

“No.” Donatello scoffed.

That was met with three very confused box turtles casting side glances. 

“Are… are any of them mutants?” Leo asked.

Leonardo laughed, “What? You though every yokai in the Hidden City was mutated by Draxum and his army of mutant mosquitoes? Ha! W-what dumb idiots would think that?” Leonardo was visibly sweating.

“Not these dumb idiots, that’s for sure.” Donatello tried to brush past, scratching his neck.

“W-wait, so none’a them guys we passed were mutants?” Raph asked, pointing back at the door.

“Well, some of them might have been, but the majority? No; they’re yokai and cryptids.”

“Yokai…” Donnie breathed, and that astonished look returned to his face as he continued to circle Monroe, “They exist in your world? Oh my kama this just keeps getting better—“

“Don.” Raph whistled as if Donnie was a dog, “Buy first, geek later.”

Monroe’s eyes lit up at that and he pulled himself away from Donnie to give a polite bow to the rest of the group. “If sales you wants, sales I’s gots! I gots artifacts from all around the world, from the tombs of Giza to the ancient Amazons. If you needs it, I gots it!”

“Great!” Raphael clapped. “Cause we need a high quality rifter.”

Monroe sank into himself. “Not that’s I don’t gots…”

A visible vein twitched in Leo. “What?”

“I solds out…” He frowned, tapping his nubby hands together.

“WHEN?”

“Like ten minutes ago, don’t yell at me.” The slug quivered, his eyes like saucers.

Leonardo sucked in a slow, deep breath, “Who bought them, Monroe?”

“Oh, an andoroido with a nice voice ands such manners. He’s having buying all my rifters. He’s very rich.”

“All of them?” Raphael whimpered, “Y-you don’t even got a… a small busted one in the back?”

Monroe shook his head. “Not one! He was be very insistent he gets alls of them. But I do has a very special hover pod with your name witten all over it if you—“

“Not interested.” Leonardo quickly dismissed, pulling on his face in his frustration, “Great. We— we’ll find somewhere else to look.”

“But I is to be assuring you that no other shop has rifters worth your while…” Monroe said.

“That's what every illegal rifter peddler would say!”

“Not this illegal rifter peddler, I swearing it to you!”

“And I swear I’ll bust your teeth in if you’re lying…” Leonardo seized Monroe by the collar and lifted him up.

“Leo.” Raphael was quick to correct. His eyes met Leonardo’s for just a moment. That was all it took for Leonardo to relent and release the Yokai. Raphael made a quick point to help Monroe fix his shirt. “Sorry ‘bout that. If you happen to find a rifter you missed, could you give us a call?”

Without having to be asked, Donatello had already written up his phone number and placed it in Monroe’s hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any more contacts, do you Don?”

Donatello took a long, slow breath. “I’ll see what I can find.”

Fanfic recommendations part three: Season 7 fix-its

Some of these stories are post season 7 finale, some of them take place during season 7 and diverge from canon. Season 8 who? We don’t know her.

I’ve read and enjoyed all of these stories, they are all worth the read.

(By the way this is a big category, so this post is huge)

All Our Yesterdays by ChronicallyChill

After the events of "Street Fighting Man", Jackie and Hyde wish more than anything that things had happened differently. The next morning, they wake up in the past, on the morning of Vanstock where Jackie promptly makes one dream come true. They are not together—but, soon enough, one change snowballs into another... Time Travel AU.

I didn’t knew if I should’ve placed this story on the season 7 fix-it category or in the AU category, in the end I chose this one, if you think it’s incorrect, please let me know so I can change it.

Okay so this story deserves a special comment because OH MY GOD, it’s incredible. It’s amazing how the author writes the characters so well, and I simply love the addition of Buddy Morgan to the gang.

This story is a WIP, it hasn’t been updated in a while but I still have faith.

121k words, 7 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Buddy/Fez

Also available on AO3

As You Wish by c00kiefic

A dark comedic look at love, loss and death. Hyde’s there for Jackie when she needs him the most.

This story is complete.

7k words, 2 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Daddy’s Home by bellamarie

Jackie and Hyde’s relationship has been smooth sailing for the most part since their last break-up in ‘79. As Hyde begins to seriously commit to Jackie, her dad is released from prison and he returns home to supposedly rekindle his relationship with her. Hyde, suspecting that Jack’s intentions aren’t pure, enlists the help of his friends to try and expose Jack for the still crook man that he is. While Hyde may be a paranoid burnout, he knows that the wily politician is up to no good. There is one thing, however, both men have a common interest in: Jackie Burkhart.

Okay so this story basically ignores the existence of season 8, that’s why it’s in this category.

Oh, and I’m pretty sure this is an abandoned story. Unfortunaly. It only has two chapters and damn, I’m dreaming about the day the author will update this, I’m already hooked.

4k words, 2 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Finding the Right Future by springsteenicious

After Chicago, Hyde starts driving to Las Vegas, planning to get over Jackie. His car nearly breaks down in Iowa, forcing him to stop. While he's there, he meets Fortune, a woman who will change the course of his life forever.

This story is complete.

13k words, 8 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Halloween is Over by MistyMountainHop

Eric wants to be scared for Halloween, really scared. Donna proposes a contest, and all their friends are in. But Hyde and Jackie's renewed relationship might not withstand the stress. Donna and Kelso must fight their impulses, and Fez and Eric's chances of survival are slim.

This story is complete.

25k words, 8 chapters.

Rated M

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Also Available on AO3

Hyde’s Long Way Home by MistyMountainHop

This story is perfect. It literally has no defects. I love ALL of MIstyMountainHop’s stories, literally, all of them, but this one has a very special place in my heart. It’s complete and it’s definitely worth the read.

Hyde goes on a self-destructive bender after finding Jackie with a towel-wrapped Kelso. The day after that, he wakes up ... and it's the same day as before. He's doomed to live the same day over and over — unless he can figure out a way to live it right.

151k words, 26 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Also available on AO3

I’d Have You Anytime by anonymous author

What if Jackie after panicking in her show, gave up? And what if she made an unnatural friendship? Basically a fix it of season 7. If you like a story with good Jackie/Eric friendship moments, I totally recommend this one!

Trigger warning for past eating disorder.

This story is a WIP and it’s being updated frequently.

15k words, 9 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

I Found a Reason by JoyfulHeartEO

Can Donna help Hyde see the light before he loses the one thing that's most important to him? Or will Jackie decide to leave at all?

Rated T.

9k words, 3 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Jackie and Hyde: The Untold Story by Lotusflower655

I was going to place this in the “Hidden Moments” category (spoiler alert, the next category), when I realised this has a different season 7 finale, so... here it is.

Rated M.

12k words, 6 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Let’s Grow Up Together by yabookreader96

One day Jackie receives a certain letter in the mail, and she finds her life quickly beginning to change. Suddenly she is a grown up navigating life on her own, drifting away from the sleepy little town of Point Place...and from her friends who can't seem to find the courage to discover life outside the Forman basement. Will her friends catch up, or will Jackie be all on her own?

This story is complete.

67k words, 12 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Magic by poetdameron

Hyde has never been good at words and Jackie has never been good at waiting, they need to find a balance to stay together. Hopefully, they'll do it before is too late.

16k words, 2 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

Please Don’t Say You Love Me (’Cause I Might Not Say It Back) by orphan_account

An alternate take on the end of season 7. Instead of running off to Vegas Hyde downs a couple of beers in the good ol' El Camino before deciding that some things are more important than his pride - i.e. his relationship with Jackie.

This story is complete.

3k words, 2 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Reflections Through the Glass by MistyMountainHop

Okay, this story is quite a trip, and it’s amazing. It’s based on a minisseries called The 10th Kingdom.

Six months after Chicago, Hyde no longer believes in love — or in Jackie. Donna's not speaking to Eric. Kelso's confused about his whole life, and Fez has gone missing. The only way back may be to leave it all behind.

This story is complete, and there’s a sequel, called Beneath a Shattered Sky. Honestly, I love the first story, but the sequel... The sequel is probably one of the best stories I’ve ever read. Those are both very long stories, but they are worth it.

138k words, 46 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Season 8 redo by tanith75

This is the most famous story of the fandom for a reason.

The story starts after the s7ep21 episode, so there’s no Chicago problems or people going to Africa over here :) It’s amazingly written, it’s funny as hell, and it honestly feels like I’m watching an episode of the show when I’m reading it. It’s amazing, it’s what should’ve happened in the show.

This story is not complete, but please, don’t let this stop you from reading it.

293k words, 42 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Red/Kitty, Fez/Laurie, Kelso/Brooke

Shade by MistyMountainHop

This story ignores season 8 completely and season 7 is canon, that’s why it’s in this category.

Hyde finds himself homeless on a night where Jackie is without parents. The gift he gave her last Christmas draws him to her, but his attachment lingers past that rainy first night, grows through countless experiences, and leads him across state lines. Their relationship is a high-stakes gamble, but Jackie may fold before Hyde can show all his cards.

This story is complete and it melts my heart every single time I read it.

43k words, 10 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

The Seeker by QuarterflashWoman

With Donna and Eric's own relationship kaput, after Eric left Donna at the altar, what does this mean for our favorite opposites-attract couple Steven and Jackie? Wedding bells, baptisms, betrayals, and ultimatums. It's just another year in the lives of those of Point Place.

This is mainly a season 7 hidden moments story until it diverges from canon, and it’s lovely. I wish it was complete, but it’s still worth the read.

121k words, 23 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, some background Eric/Donna angst.

We’re All Alright by glittermila

In which Hyde and Jackie actually talk things out after he caught Kelso at the motel.

This is a lovely story, and I really enjoyed it, seeing Jackie and Hyde having a mature relationship is everything.

This story is complete.

48k words, 21 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Mainly Jackie/Hyde

Zenmasters: Seasons 3-5 by zdbztumble

I was having a lot of trouble categorizing this story, in the end, I decided that it was a season 7 fix-it of sorts, since season 8 doesn’t exist and season 7 ends in a satisfying way.

This story is a rewrite of some episodes, the author foreshadowed J/H relationship during seasons 3 and 4, and she added some pretty nice J/H moments in some chapters. The author also changed some things in some episodes (like the way J/H get back together after the nurse, and some other things). It’s a pretty good story, I like it a lot.

After "Jackie Bags Hyde," a certain subplot went into hibernation for a season and a half. What if it hadn't? And, if it hadn't, what other surprises would pop up along the way? "Tune in" to find out!

This story is complete.

170k words, 43 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

One-shots:

A change in fate by KaraSkinner

After leaving Jackie in Chicago, Hyde gets into a car crash and meets an angel that shows him just how bleak life would be if he doesn't change his fate now.

4k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

don’t I love you so by orphan_account

Hyde’d spent so long trying to keep her out, and what had happened? He’d finally opened up the gates, only to realise she’d been there the whole time and had had enough. Love — it was a goddamn Trojan horse.

or; a 7x25 fix it where hyde and jackie talk like adults for once in their damn lives.

4k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Hyde Asks Jackie to Stay by springsteenicious

When Hyde finds Jackie in the basement when she's supposed to be in Chicago, his first instinct is to push her away. Instead, he asks her to stay.

2k words

Rated G.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I’m not a heartbreaker, so be gentle with mine by FalaZure

It's just a proposal, Hyde's been through worse and really how hard can it be?

or: 5 times Hyde tries to propose to Jackie, and one time he succeeds.

This story ignores season 8 completely, and it’s mainly just fluff, I LOVE it.

12k words.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Jackie Doesn’t Leave Before Getting an Answer by springsteenicious

Jackie stays in Point Place and waits for an answer to her ultimatum. At long last, Hyde gives her one.

2k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Let’s Do It by poetdameron

According to the tags, season 8 does not exist on this story, so off to the season 7 fix-its category you go.

There are things a man should not say after great orgasms on Christmas' Eve, Steven Hyde should have known better.

2k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Moth Drawn to Light by blackorchids

After Hyde sees how good Jackie is with baby Betsy, it makes him start to think.

Ignores the existence of season 8 completely. Just a fluff little one-shot on Hyde’s thoughts about fatherhood.

1k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Our Last Night on Earth by c00kiefic

When Hyde wakes up in the beer warehouse, he decides to actually fight for his girl.

3k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Remember to Breathe by PrefectMoony

She’s all bubblegum laughter, and butter scotch kisses. Hyde thinks he loves her, thinks he’s always loved her. Hates that it’s taken him so long to tell her as much.

Hates it even more that the first time he’s ever told her so is when the break between them is too raw— too jagged— to be able to mend with pretty platitudes.

Beautifully written.

4k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

sighs in my sleep by finkpishnets

“Congratulations,” the nurse says, smile pulled too tight as she glances at Jackie’s unadorned hand.

Jackie wants to shrug it off — “My husband’s getting the ring engraved as an anniversary gift. Isn’t that just so romantic?” — but she can’t find the breath to let the lie trip off her tongue, even in the face of pity.

2k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Street Fighting Man by springsteenicious

Hyde finds Jackie crying at the Packers Game. He tries to fix it.

1k words

Rated G

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Tea For One by KayRight

The second Mrs. Forman walked in with a letter for him he knew what had happened. Marrying her scared him, but losing her terrified him to his very core. Takes place in Season 7 after Jackie tells Hyde she got a job in Chicago.

2k words.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The One Where They’re Happy by amidtheflowers

When Jackie and Hyde start dating, it takes the gang a while to see how that relationship even works. Something that creepy and unnatural can't possibly work, right? Meanwhile, Donna wonders why she puts up with any of them.

Adorable, I love this story so much, please read this.

3k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

we’ll be alright by marvelfoodlover

What if Jackie didn't easily forgive the gang after they missed her graduation party?

Season 7 fix-it because it diverges from canon.

2k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I think that covers it.

I’ll repeat this at the end of every single post: speaking as someone who writes, it would be really cool if you guys decide to leave a review (or a comment, if the story is on AO3) in the stories you read, especially the unfinished ones. It really motivates the authors, and receiving a compliment is always a mood lifter. I’ve seen some authors updating stories after years because of nice reviews, so… yeah, this is just an idea.

If you think I left out a good story, feel free to reply to this post!

Next category: Hidden Moments

Mixed Signals

Pairing: Dean x Reader

You were sitting in the library, plunking away on your laptop, searching for a case. After a couple of hours, you still hadn't found anything, but your stomach was growling from hunger. You went to the fridge to survey its contents. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing but Dean's last slice of pie, which you knew better than to touch, Sam's last yogurt and a few slices of moldy bread. Ugh, time to go on a supply run, you thought.

Dean was in the garage, tinkering with the Impala again. You let him know that you were running into town for some groceries, given the current state of the fridge. To your surprise, he asked you to wait while he washed his hands, because he wanted to go with you.

"Seriously, Dean? You never want to go on a grocery run, you just holler and tell me not to forget the pie. What gives?" you asked.

"Nothing 'gives', I'm just tired of being cooped up in the bunker. Besides, it gives me a chance to spend time with my best friend, on the highway, jamming to some tunes," he smirked.

"Fine, let's go," you relented. Best friend. That's how he sees you, but you see him as something more. You've had a crush on Dean for quite some time. It's been that way ever since Bobby sent you to assist the boys on that vampire hunt all those years ago.

Dean Winchester. His sexy green eyes, sharp yet usually stubbled jawline, perfectly kissable lips were what haunted your dreams every night. For you, though, it went beyond the physical. He was smart, kind, strong, tender and had a kick-ass sense of humor. He was highly protective of those most important to him, yourself included.

When you were with him, he made you feel like you were the most important person in the room, the only person. Problem was, that feeling was experienced by the countless women from the bar scene who happened to catch his eye. Judging by what walked out of his room the morning after, you knew you didn't measure up. For the moment, you pushed those thoughts out of your mind and focused on buying food for the bunker.

About an hour later, you and Dean returned from the store and hauled everything to the kitchen. Sam joined you shortly thereafter to help put things away. He told you and Dean that Sheriff Donna Hanscum had called while you were out. She asked you to call her back when you got home from getting supplies.

While you were putting things away, you called Donna back, putting her on speakerphone. "Hey there, Sheriff D, what have you got going on up there? How can we help?" you asked.

She went on to explain about crazy things happening in one particular house in a relatively quiet neighborhood. Lights flashing, hearing something scratching within the walls, beds shaking and flying objects.

You looked at Sam and Dean to see what they thought it might be. "We think it might be a poltergeist," you remarked. "We're on our way up to see you and then we can interview some witnesses. Over and out, chickie," you said as you ended the call.

Thirty minutes later and you were in the back seat of the Impala, headed up the highway to see Donna. Every so often, your eyes would wander to Dean as he tapped his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music. Occasionally, his eyes would flick to yours in the rearview mirror, but by that time, you had dropped your gaze.

You had opened your book to start reading, when you heard Dean talking about what he was going to do post-hunt. "Since we'll be in the area, I'm going to head out to that little dive bar on the edge of town. Good music, good brews and hot chicks. Awesome combo, wouldn't you say, Sammy?" he asked.

Sam was so absorbed in his research that he hadn't heard Dean at first, but you had heard him. "Hmm? What? What'd you say, Dean?" he replied.

"Never mind," Dean muttered. His eyes drifted to you in the back seat. He saw you staring out the window, arms folded across your chest, your book open, but forgotten for the moment. For a brief second, Dean thought he saw a tear coursing down your cheek, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. He furrowed his brow to think that you may be upset about something. "You okay back there?" he asked you.

"I'm fine," you responded softly. You replaced your bookmark and snapped your book shut. You returned your attention to the scenery zipping by. After a while, your eyelids drifted closed, your light snores filling the quiet of the back seat.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean looked back at you through the rearview mirror. He could tell by the gentle rise and fall of your chest that you had fallen asleep. You looked so peaceful, so relaxed, which he didn't see very often. You were always so busy taking care of things in the bunker for them, in addition to hunting. You barely had any time to yourself, what with research, laundry and keeping the boys well-fed.

When you did get a moment to do what you wanted, you usually ended up falling asleep in your book or to something on Netflix. Then he or Sam would prod you awake long enough for you to drag yourself to your room and fall back to sleep.

He took another look at you in the backseat. Your full, pink lips looked so cute, especially when they got all scrunched up as you research through the lore books. Your honey-and-green eyes seemed to sparkle when you found some obscure fact that helped to crack the case. He glanced down at your strong, yet delicate hands folded across your chest. He imagined what it would feel like to have them running over his body. That particular thought made Dean shift uncomfortably in his seat a little.

The Impala eased into a parking space in front of the Redstone Motel. Dean asked Sam to go get a room, while he tried to wake you up from your peaceful nap. He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. Suddenly, you stirred and as you turned your head, your lips brushed the back of his hand. This small action sent an electric shock to his system at the point of contact. Dean tried again to wake you by gently nudging your shoulder, and your eyelids fluttered open. "Hey," you said as you stretched and gave him a halfway-still-sleepy smile.

Dean chuckled. "Hey there, sleepyhead. Sam's getting us a room, then we'll have to change into our Fed suits to go meet with Donna," he explained. As if on cue, Sam returned to the car and told Dean which room you all would be in.

You got out of the Impala and retrieved your bag from the trunk. "They only had one room left, with two queen beds and a couch," Sam explained as you all walked into the room.

"Oh. I guess I'll take the couch then," you volunteered, a little disappointed at not having your own space. You went into the bathroom to get dressed in your Fed get-up. The outfit consisted of a white, button-down blouse, a navy blue pinstriped pencil skirt and black high heels. You ran your fingers through your hair, shaking it out, trying to add some fluff to it. A swipe of mascara, some lip gloss and you were good to go.

You looked over at Dean, who was having some trouble fixing his tie. "Here, let me help," you said as you took over. A swoop here, a tuck there and you cinched his tie in place around his neck. Being this close to Dean, you could smell his aftershave. It was so intoxicating, that you had to blink several times to keep your focus on fixing his tie. You nervously cleared your throat. "There. All better now," you teased.

Dean reached up with his hands to clasp yours and gently brushed his lips against them. "Thank you," he whispered. As you turned to get your FBI ID badge, Dean couldn't help but think of how sexy you looked, even if it was your Fed threads. Whoa, where did that come from? he silently wondered.

"You're welcome," you mumbled. Blushing furiously, you gave him a quick smile, put your FBI badge in your pocket and headed back out to the Impala. What the hell was that?!? you asked yourself. One minute I'm helping him fix his tie, the next minute he's kissing my hand?? I'm so confused, you inwardly groaned. By the time you had finished your internal monologue, Sam and Dean had returned to the car, and you were on your way to see Donna.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the station, Donna briefed you on what was happening at the house. It was a man and his two children that lived in the house where all of the strange things were occurring. His name was George Anderson, his daughter, Hannah was about 10. The baby of the family, Andrew, was about 7 years old.

You watched the family through the one-way glass. George was sitting on the edge of his chair, while Hannah and Andrew were drawing pictures in the corner. Donna came up behind you as you observed the situation. "What do you think?" she asked, placing her hand on your shoulder.

"Not sure yet," you murmured. "Why don't you let me go in there and talk to them? By myself," you suggested as you locked eyes with Dean. Donna shrugged and agreed, then unlocked the door for you.

You introduced yourself to George, who warmly shook your hand. Hannah immediately jumped up and rushed to her father's side, looking ready to do battle on his behalf. You reached out your hand to her for a handshake, but she ignored it and glared at you before going back to her drawing. Andrew briefly looked up at you with his big, brown eyes and then returned to his crayons.

As you and George talked, it was more of a conversation than an interrogation. You tried to put him at ease by slipping in a couple of jokes. It seemed to work, as he was more willing to talk about what was going on in his house. George even came back with some jokes of his own that made you laugh. It made Dean more agitated, because it looked to him like you were flirting with George. Fortunately, Donna was keeping an eye on Dean, which let you do what you needed to do.

You stood up to leave, then shook George's hand again, and this time Hannah allowed you to shake her hand. Before you made it to the door, you felt a tug on your skirt. You looked down and saw Andrew handing you his drawing. You knelt down to his level and studied the picture he had drawn. It looked like he was telling you about everything the poltergeist was doing in the house.

All of a sudden, you felt a searing pain in your head and a wave of dizziness crashed over you. It almost knocked you over, but you were able to regain your composure. You tried to return the drawing to the young artist, but he pushed it back to you, eyes wide with fear. You nodded at him in understanding, caressing his cheek to soothe the young boy. "Thank you very much, Andrew. I think this will help us so that we can help your family," you said softly. You handed George your business card, and asked him to call you if anything more happened.

George and his children left the station, and you relayed your conversation to Donna and the boys. For some reason, you thought Dean looked a bit annoyed with you about something, but you had no idea what. You all agreed to keep working on the case to try and figure out how to get rid of the poltergeist. On that note, you, Sam and Dean walked back out to the Impala.

As soon as you reached the car, Dean took hold of your arm. "What the hell was going on in that room?" he demanded.

You looked down at his hand on your arm, so he released it. "What do you mean, I was talking to George, trying to figure out what was going on in his house. What did you think I was doing?" you shot back.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe a bit of flirting going on? Laughing and telling jokes, cozying up to the kids. Why don't you just sleep with him and get it over with?" Dean retorted.

"DEAN!!" Sam yelled.

You reached up and slapped Dean across the face. "You jackass. How could you say something like that to me? Your so-called 'best friend'?? I was trying to gain his trust and that of his children. Something of mine that you're coming dangerously close to losing," you snapped. Tears threatening, you turned and stormed back into the station to ask Donna if you could bunk with her tonight.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam demanded. "Why would you say that to her? You know how this works. What would you think if the situation was reversed and she came at you like that?" he asked.

Dean thought about it a minute. "I would think she was....Oh Chuck," he said softly. Dean looked over at his brother, who was smirking. "What, Sam? What?" he snapped.

"I knew it! You like her. You have feelings for her," Sam said in a sing-song voice.

Just then, you and Donna walked out from the station. Dean could see your eyes were all red and puffy, probably from crying. He tried to go over to talk to you, but Donna blocked his progress. "Not now, Dean. Talk to her later," she said forcefully.

"I just want to--" he started.

"I said not now, Dean. I'm going to take her back to your motel and get her bag. She's bunking with me tonight," Donna declared.

"We only have the one key, so we'll follow you and let her in," Dean said softly in defeat. Donna nodded, and you all took off for the motel.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the motel, Sam gave you the key to let yourself in to get your bag. Dean stayed in the car, his forehead leaning on the steering wheel. He was still trying to make sense out of what happened outside of the police station. He wanted so badly to apologize to you for his accusations, that he knew you were only doing your job.

Is Sam right? Do I have feelings for her? he asked himself. He thought back to everything that's happened since the job started. From seeing you asleep in the back seat, your lips brushing his hand when he tried to wake you up. To helping him with his tie, his lips brushing your hands, seeing you in the interview room with George and the kids....to that awful accusation.

Dean looked up when he heard the doors on Donna's cruiser close. At least she's safe for the night, he thought. Sam went into the room, leaving the door open for Dean. He got out of the Impala and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Sam was in the shower by the time Dean came into the room.

When Sam came out of the bathroom, Dean was just staring off into space. After Sam got dressed, he sat on the edge of his bed, facing Dean. "Look, Dean. I know you're upset about what happened earlier. Give her some time to cool off, it'll be fine. You'll apologize to her, and you'll go back to being best friends," he explained.

"That's just it, Sam. I don't know if I can go back to being just best friends. I think you were right. I was jealous of her and that guy. And she was so good with those kids, I just know she'd be an incredible mother. I wanted to be George, I want it to be our kids she's so good with," Dean finished.

At that moment, Sam's phone rang, with the display showing Donna was calling. "Hey, Donna, what's going on? Is everything okay?" he asked.

Donna frantically explained that while you and she were talking on the way to her place, that the pain in your head came back. This time, you had a vision of George and the kids. Objects were flying around, and when George tried to run with the kids to the front door, a lamp cord tripped him. He hit his head and was knocked unconscious. You could see the two terrified children crying, huddled together near their father, trying to get him to wake up.

You convinced her to do a drive-by to make sure everything was okay. The closer you got to George's house, the more intense the pain became in your head. That's how you knew something bad was going to happen, unless you took action. When you got there, you bolted out of Donna's cruiser before she could stop you.

"The front door opened for her, then it slammed shut. I tried to go in after her, but it was locked. She's trapped in there with that-that thing, those two babies and their father. Sam, Dean, you have to hurry, please!" she sounded close to tears.

"On our way, Donna," Dean affirmed, already in the car. Sam had his laptop open, reading some information about George's house. "Okay, here it is. The previous owner of the house was a man by the name of Lawrence O'Donnell, who died in 1913. There have been three or four other families that bought the house after he died. They all ended up selling the house when he started to terrorize them," Sam finished.

"Sounds like old Larry didn't want anyone to live in the house with him even after he was gone. So how do we kill it?" Dean asked.

"Salt and burn, just like normal. But we have to hurry. These are different than a run-of-the-mill vengeful spirit. Poltergeists don't care if they have the right person. They'll go after anyone and everyone," Sam finished.

Dean's hands tightened around the steering wheel as he mashed down on the accelerator. Sam continued to research until he found out where Mr. O'Donnell was buried. Finally he found it, and gave Dean directions on which cemetery to go to.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the house, you found a hiding place for the kids so they would be out of the way. Once that was done, you tended to George's head wound. The sleeve on your overshirt was torn a bit, so you ripped it off for a makeshift bandage. You told George just to stay there, that the kids were safe, but you were going to look around a little.

Your eyes started scanning the area, looking for hidden dangers. More power cords or some sharp object with the potential to fly across the room. You crawled towards the front door to see if you could open it and escape. Before you could put your hand on the knob, a vase came flying at you and you ducked just in time. It broke above your head, showering you with the broken pieces.

You shrank back to your previous position and felt in your back pocket for your phone. You managed to get connected to Donna and push the speakerphone button. But that victory was short-lived, as the phone was yanked out of your hand and went skittering across the floor.

The next thing you knew, you were flying across the room and being held in place on the opposite wall. You tried to move, but it was no use. A figure appeared in front of you, a man dressed in a Victorian-era suit and had a large handlebar mustache. His hands were inching towards you to grab your throat, when flames started to creep up and consume his body. His gut-wrenching screams filled the room, until he was completely gone.

You were no longer held to the wall, so you made your way over to the door to open it and let Donna in. She came rushing in and started to check you for injuries, but you waved her off and told her to check on George.

While the EMTs were assessing George's condition, you called for Hannah and Andrew to come out of hiding. You told them it was all over, and that their daddy was going to be okay. With tears in their eyes, they came running towards you and threw their arms around your neck. You held one in each arm, rubbing up and down their backs and whispering comforting words in their ears. You looked up and happened to catch George's eye, at which time he mouthed the words, "thank you".

The EMTs wheeled George out of the house, while Donna took one child in each hand and led them out to her car. You looked around the room, trying to come to grips with what happened here tonight. Silent tears streaked down your face as you realized just how wrong things could have gone. Among your last words to Dean were that he was a jackass and you had slapped him. If you somehow hadn't made it out alive tonight, you knew he would've blamed himself for all of it.

As if on cue, Dean burst through the front door, with Sam close behind. Dean rushed over to where you were standing, placed his hands on your shoulders and looked into your eyes. Without a word, he gathered you into his arms and held you close to his chest. It was then that you gave yourself permission to be comforted and sank into his embrace.

Tears flowed freely now, soaking his T-shirt. Dean kept a firm hold on you, whispering soothing words in your ear. He softly apologized over and over for what he'd said earlier outside of the police station. You drew back a little and placed a hand gently on his face where you had slapped him. You rubbed your thumb across his cheek to try and soothe away the hurt. You also hoped he knew that you weren't angry with him anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," you started. "I shouldn't have--" he cut you off.

"Shh, that doesn't matter right now. I'm just glad that you and everyone else is okay," he replied. "You wanna get out of here?" he asked. You nodded. He kept an arm around your waist as he guided you out of the house and over to the car.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Donna took care of things on her end, and the kids were reunited with their father. You all got cleaned up and decided to go to the bar to celebrate another successful hunt. You were gathered around the pool table in the back, with you and Donna playing against Sam and Dean. The first round of drinks went down pretty fast, so you volunteered to go and get the next round.

You gave your drink order to the bartender and paid, leaving a few dollars for his tip. As you stood waiting for your drinks, a man sitting next to you started a conversation. He introduced himself, and you reluctantly did the same.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful lady," he slurred.

You rolled your eyes at such a lame pick-up line. "I'm here with a group of friends, and really not interested. I just want my drinks, okay?" you explained.

"Doesn't mean we can't have a little fun, you and me," he continued, this time stroking a finger down your arm.

"Listen. I tried to be nice about this, but here's the deal. Get your filthy hands off of me, leave me alone, or there's going to be a problem," you seethed. By this time, the bartender had made eye contact with Donna and silently signaled that you may need some help.

Dean came walking over and snaked his arm around your waist. "Hey there, sweetheart, what's taking so long?" he asked as he kissed your temple. The guy who had been hitting on you got up from his barstool and stumbled out into the night, mumbling under his breath.

"Thanks, Dean. I tried to tell that guy I wasn't interested, but he wasn't listening," you explained.

"Eh, all in a day's work," Dean replied. Sam and Donna had also come over to pick up their drinks and take them back to the pool table. For some reason, you and Dean kept hanging out at the bar for a bit.

"You know, you should be careful," you told him.

"About what?" he asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"That stunt you just pulled, pretending to be my boyfriend? You've probably ruined your chances of taking one of these lovely ladies back to the motel with you," you replied.

"There's only one lovely lady I'm interested in taking back to the motel with me," he said huskily. His arm snaked back around your waist, as he traced your jawline with his index finger.

You placed your drink on top of the bar and abruptly broke free of his embrace. Dean called out after you, but you kept running towards the door, out of the bar and into the cool night air. When you got to the Impala, you stopped and leaned up against the driver's side door. You tried to catch your breath, while simultaneously trying to collect your thoughts.

Dean caught up with you and was moving in towards you again, but you put your hands up. "Wait, Dean. Just a minute," you said.

"I don't understand. What just happened back there?" he asked.

"Well, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one that doesn't understand," you answered. "First, I hear you talking to Sam about picking up chicks in the bar. Next, you kiss my hand after I'm done fixing your tie, then you get upset at how I handled the witnesses. You're killing me with these mixed signals, Dean!" you exclaimed.

On a softer note, you continued. "You and I have been best friends for a very long time. But, Dean I have to tell you something....I'm in love with you," you blurted out. "I love your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your--" Dean cut you off by closing the gap between you and crashing his lips against yours.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Sorry it took me almost too long to figure it out, but I'm so glad I did," Dean replied softly. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, moving hungrily as if your lips were his last meal. Then he grabbed your hips and pulled you flush against him, earning him a gasp of surprise from you.

"Dean?" you whispered as his lips trailed a series of kisses all over your neck. "Yeah, darlin'?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you think maybe Sam could stay at Donna's place tonight?" you asked. Dean stepped back to pull out his phone and sent Sam a quick text. "Done. Now where were we?" he grinned as he dipped his head to reclaim your mouth.

In This Together

                                             Pic originally posted by jrackles                               

Pairing- Dean x Wife!Reader

Word count-9825

Summary-The reader hasn’t been feeling well and is afraid to go to a doctor, because of her medical history.  One thing seems to lead to another, but she has her husband Dean to lean on. This is AU

Warnings- Sick reader, Little bit of language, A little angst, and maybe a little fluff, slight implied smut. Possible triggers talks of multiple surgeries some are a little descriptive, talk of possible loss of fertility, female problems.

 A/N This is my first fic I have finished.  I have had some things going on, I needed someone like Dean, this was the closest I could get to having him. It is unbeta’d all mistakes are mine.  @winchest09 and @katehuntington​ you two are absolutely amazing!! Without you two, your virtual lockdowns and the people I met because of them, I never would have had the confidence to finish this let alone post it. Thank you! 

You sighed as you rolled over in bed, time to get up and start another day.  Although you were hoping today was different. You were hoping the pain you had been having which couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to be in your side or abdomen would actually be gone.  Something that had just been in your head.   You had felt a kind of off for the last 2 weeks but had kept that to yourself.

“Morning Sweetheart,” came from your husband of four years, as Dean walked back in your room fresh from the shower. A quick kiss good morning before he finished getting dressed and you headed to get yourself ready in the bathroom.  Soon you were both out the door and off to work.  Dean was a partner in his father’s mechanic business. It was doing well for him; he’d even added on auto parts store next door.  You were running your family’s restaurants, your parents slowly cutting back on their day to day involvement, but not leaving entirely yet because you were going to need their help in the new year.

You enjoyed your mornings at work, for the first few hours it was just you preparing things for the day, your radio playing softly your only companion. It wasn’t long before your daytime employees came in and the lunch rush began you all working as a team everything going smoothly today. It was while working on clean up and the dinner prep, one of your workers, and your friend, Donna found you in a back corner with your hands on your right side. When she asked what was going on, you told her you were fine and went to finish the task you were working on. Before she left Donna passed by your office where she saw you inside with a look of pain on your face again, your ringing phone interrupted her from saying anything to you then.

Dean beat you home from work and was preparing hamburgers to grill when you walked in.  You set your things down and met him in the kitchen for a kiss, “Hey Babe, how was your day?”

“Good.  The new guy, Gabe, I was telling you about should work out well, might be a little bit of a smart ass.  Benny seems to have taken him under his wing to show him the ropes. Those two will be interesting together.  How were things at the restaurant today?”

“That’s great! I know with your Dad, and Bobby cutting back their time there you wanted at least one more person in.  Work was fine, late lunch and steady afternoon which is why I’m later getting home.”

“How’s the foot doing? You’ve been on it more with working longer hours lately.”

“Okay, as good as it’s going to be for now.”

You two enjoyed a quiet dinner, then curled up on the couch to watch a movie before heading to bed. Dean noticed you didn’t eat much of your dinner, but he figured you were either tired or grabbed a snack at the restaurant.  

Your next morning started off about the same both of you on your separate ways to work. It was afternoon when Donna saw you again with a grimace on your face and a hand on your side. A little while later she saw your running to the restroom where you threw up.

“Alright, spill Y/N. What is going on, you’ve been a little off lately?”

“Donna, I’m fine.”

“Bull, lady.  Do I need to call Dean and ask him?”

“NO!” Your head went back, and your eyes closed as you thought about what you were going to say. You went with the truth, maybe she would tell you what you were hoping, it was nothing.  “I’ve been having a sharp pain in my right side, sometimes it moves to the front and is in my abdomen.  Every once in while it might go lower.  It’s probably just a sore muscle or maybe the ulcer is coming back”  

“And the upset stomach?”

“That’s new-ish. This is nothing, I’m fine.  It can’t be anything.” You almost whispered.

“You should probably talk to your Dr.  Maybe your OB first, given your history.  That’s what your worried about right?”

With tears in your eyes you gave a soft yes.

“Call them, and then talk to Dean.  Knowing you, you haven’t said anything to him, and were going to keep pretending nothing was happening.”

You walked away to call for an appointment.  Donna was right, you were scared, and you hadn’t told Dean.  You didn’t want to go through this again.  Around year and half ago you were at a girls day out when you just didn’t feel right.  You attributed it to worry you had about something at work.  It didn’t go away and over the next two weeks things got worse. You weren’t hungry, you had a sharp pain in your side, had started burping and not been able to stop it.  That one bothered you the most.   Then you started getting sick.  Overall, you just didn’t feel well.  You figured it was early February now, you just had a good old-fashioned winter cold. When you suddenly had trouble drawing a deep breath and it hurt to breathe, you had gone to a walk-in-clinic.  They thought it was your appendix or gallbladder and sent you to your primary Doctor the next day.  They agreed and sent you to a CT Scan the next day.  Dean went with that morning and waited while you went back for the test. You were told your doctor would have to results in a few days while they were getting the test started.  When they finished the scan, they told you to stay on the table they had a radiologist coming to read the scan right then.  That hadn’t done much for your nerves.  They told you something about a mass on your ovary and kids still being possible, but you needed to see your OB asap.  You had walked back out to Dean in the waiting room in shock, not 100% sure what had happened in the last few minutes.  You had ended up having a cyst on an ovary, which had destroyed that ovary and continued to grow into what your doctor called a giant mass. It had gotten so big it was pushing on your other organs.  They had to go in and take it out.  You were getting to the point you were okay with that part, but the doctor kept talking, and you kept squeezing Dean’s hand harder.  They couldn’t see the uterus around the mass and didn’t know if it had damage or the other ovary, and there was a possibility it was cancerous.  Suddenly the kids you and Dean had been talking about and picturing, might only ever be that, talk.  You had been a wreck the morning of surgery, but Dean was in pre-op with you as long as he could be holding your hand telling you everything was going to be fine. It didn’t matter what happened with the surgery.  If it was just the two of you, or if you ended up adopting. You were in this together. He loved you and the two of you would be just fine.  The surgery had gone well.  They only had to take the mass out and the tests came back cancer free.  

Things between you and Dean were good.  The last year and half had been crazy, no kids yet, although that wasn’t due to lack of trying in the beginning.  The December after your surgery you had ended up with a stomach ulcer and they found a fibroid on your uterus.  You really couldn’t catch a break.  Your doctor had wanted to put you on birth control to slow down the growth for now.  Here you were, once again worried that you wouldn’t be able to give Dean the baby you knew he wanted. His brother Sam, and his wife Jess had had their first child a few months prior and Dean was the loving uncle.  Holding little Jake, he could calm him down faster than anyone but Jess. He spent a bit of time telling him all about Baby, and the things he would teach him when he was older.  You were fairly certain he might get that boy in trouble with a few things, but that could be dealt with in a few years.  You knew Dean was hoping for the day he would be holding his own baby, and teaching them, you were afraid you were never going to be able to give him that.  

You were sitting on the couch when Dean came home from work.

“Hey Sweetheart, how was your day?”

“Fine, how were things at the shop?”

“Good, busy. Dinner smells great.”

“Thanks, it’s got about a half hour till it’s done.  I know you want to shower, but can I talk to you first?”

“Always.”

Dean joined you on the couch as you started explaining.  “So I’ve been feeling kind of off lately, not quite right.  Pain in my side and abdomen.  The last few days throwing up if I ate and drank much.  It’s a bit like before.”

Dean moved closer and held you as he asked, “Are you thinking you have another mass, the fibroid, or something else?”

“I don’t know, and that scares me.  I want it to be nothing, but we both know my luck isn’t that good.  I have an appointment next Wednesday with my OB/GYN. I figured it would cut some of the middle wait time out.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“Thanks, but I think I will be ok alone with this first visit.”

“Wait, don’t you have your foot appointment that day?”

“Yes, but it’s in the morning.”

Wednesday your appointments finally arrived.  You had been having trouble with your foot for a few years now, it had gotten so bad you couldn’t even wear a tennis shoe anymore.  You actually were supposed to have surgery on it a few years ago, the same year you had found the mass and had to have that removed instead.  It was a pretty simple appointment; they did updated x-rays since you hadn’t had any in over a year and talked again with the surgeon about what surgery would entail.  He was a foot and ankle specialist at the University hospital.  This was going to be your third foot/ankle related surgery but the first on your right foot.  You had had different doctors each time, and you like this one the best.  He was extremely knowledgeable and easy to talk to.  You may have been nervous for this surgery, but that was because of everything it was going to involve.  You were born with as the doctors called them extremely high arches.  It had caused you a number of problems over the years, sprained ankles, multiply breaks, and your two other surgeries.  They were going to go in and break your fifth metatarsal and put a plate in there and realign it, cut the Achilles tendon and lengthen it, you had tears in the Peroneal tendon which had to be fixed and then attached to the Brevis tendon to strengthen it, ligaments on the inside and outside of the foot needed to be tightened or loosened depending on the side.  You had had all of that done nine years ago on your other foot, but because of problems you had with that first surgery they were taking it a step further. They were going to cut the bones in your heel and realign them.  That part was making you the most nervous.  You would be spending the 3 months following surgery on crutches, possibly longer.  You had spent enough time on them over the years, you were pretty good on them at least. You had been planning on the surgery happening in January, you couldn’t put it off any longer.

The worst part of all this has been the not knowing because your mind is great at making up worst case scenarios, you were a bit worked up for your afternoon OB appointment.  You and your doctor talked and going over your symptoms he was sending you for a CT scan the following week because he thought you might have a kidney stone based on some of your symptoms. He also ordered an ultrasound to check on the fibroid. They don’t do anything with fibroids until they are over 4 cm and causing problems.  When yours was found it was at 3.3 cm, so they had just put you on birth control.  The doctor talked about what could happen if it was the fibroid.  You might need surgery to remove it, if it was to big, they might have to take the uterus out or there were shots out that put you in menopause for a while.  You were due back in his office in two and half weeks to go over the tests.  More waiting, just great.

Dean had dinner waiting for you when you got home. You explained the tests the doctor wanted and what he told you he was thinking.  You never thought you would be in a spot where kidney stones were an option you were hoping for. You two spent the evening on the couch watching movies compromising on your choices. Since Halloween was coming soon Dean wanted a horror movie, you agreed if you watched that one first and ended your night with The Proposal.  That way your mind wasn’t on a horror movie just before bed.

The next week went fairly quickly and your tests were done you were just waiting on follow up. You and Dean both busy at work during the days.  You had lost a manager, you mom had been taking on a lot of caterings which kept her out of the store, and Donna couldn’t pick up more hours because she was taking care of her sister, Jody’s daughters at night.  All this meant you were working open to close three to four days a week and at least 8 hours the other days.  You would get home at night and not want to move from your couch.  Friday morning you were doing your prep work when you received a call from your doctor’s office.  They had both of your results in. They didn’t find kidney stones; the fibroid had doubled in size and there was a mass on your remaining ovary.  Your follow-up appointment with them was 10 days away, but they wanted to see you as soon as you could come in the next day they were open, which was Tuesday.  The last surgery you needed was like that, everything done asap.  You had found out about the mass and a week later you were in surgery.

You hung up with them and called Dean in tears.  Your mind automatically going through worse case scenarios.  He did his best to calm you down and tell you everything would be okay. You two were going to be alright. You called your mom when you hung up from Dean and filled her in on your results. Making yourself get back to work.

Being a Friday, you had a busy lunch rush and had a bit of clean up and more prep work to get ready for the dinner rush.  You were working in the back when the door buzzer went off notifying you of someone coming in.  Donna called you to the front saying a customer needed your help.  The first genuine smile you had all day coming to your face as you took in Dean standing there with a bunch of colorful flowers.  

“Oh Dean, they’re beautiful! Thank you!”

“Not half as beautiful as you Y/N, how are you holding up sweetheart?”    

“I’ve been better. It’s going to be a long weekend waiting to see what he has to say.  My mom talked to my cousin who does some work at the hospital, a friend of hers works for an OB/GYN who has been around awhile and is the only one in town who does this surgery robotically.  I have an appointment with him next week also for his opinion.”

“It’s all going to work out, no matter what it’s you and me together.  I have to get back to work and I know you do to, I just wanted to stop in and see how you were doing.”

“Thank you, Baby, I appreciate it so much.  I love you.”

“Love you too Sweetheart.  I will see you at home tonight”

When you weren’t at work, you and Dean hung out at home over the weekend.  He did his best to take his mind off of your upcoming appointment.  You greatly appreciated his effort.  Before you knew it, Tuesday afternoon rolled around.  This time dean accompanied you to the appointment.  The doctor explained that the fibroid was now at 6.7cm and was what was causing your problems.  He was really pushing these shots you take once a month that put you in menopause for six months. He told you that it would shrink the fibroid, and that would be best to start with.  The other options he was giving you were waiting and getting another ultrasound end of December/early January and coming back then or go in and do surgery sometime. You weren’t sure how you felt about either of those options but were glad he wasn’t going in right away to take out the uterus.  What did frustrate you the most, was how the call on Friday made it sound like things were worse and you needed to come in asap for something to be done, and the doctor wasn’t doing anything right now.

You and Dean both felt a little calmer when you left the office.  “What are you thinking about your options, Darling?”

“Honestly, I’m not so sure about those shots, I would need a lot more information on them first. The whole being put into menopause has me nervous.  That’s not something I ever thought I would be thinking about at 31.  When I talked to the nurse on the phone Friday she made this seem so much worse, and he’s not doing anything other than the shots now. I guess we’ll see what the other doctor says tomorrow.”

The next morning you and Dean were at the other doctor’s office.  New patient paperwork all filled out and you were waiting to go back. Your cousin’s friend called your name and took you back.  She had been talking to your mom, so she knew what was going on and had shared it with the doctor.  You asked her opinion on the shots, and she just shook her head.  She told you there wasn’t any guarantee it would even work, and there was a lot of risk with what going into menopause could do to you and your chance of having a child.  You would have to sign a number of documents that said you didn’t hold that company responsible for any of the large number of side effects.

“I wasn’t sold on them before, I’m really not know” you told her and Dean.

The doctor came in shortly after and did quick exam.  You had asked his opinion on what to do, he said taking it out would be the best thing to try and preserve the uterus and a chance for you to have children in the future. Yes, you could have a child with a fibroid on the uterus, but as big as it was it could cause problems. It didn’t end up being a long appointment because he was called away for a birth. He did order 2 tests and you set those up before leaving.  One was another ultrasound to check where the fibroid was and if that would cause any problems itself. The other was to check the uterus for any cancer spots, they did warn you that one could be painful, and you weren’t going to want to do much after the test was done. You had those both scheduled for the following Tuesday and Wednesday.

As you walked out to your cars you asked Dean “What did you think of him, and everything said?”

“They are both pretty against the shots, and I know you didn’t really like the idea of them either. You cousin said he has more experience, right?”

“Yes, he does. I’ve talked to a few others that know him, and they all like him.  Donna’s aunt was an OB and she referred patients to him if it was something she couldn’t do.”

“Ultimately Y/N, it comes down to what you think, and what you want to do.  We can talk more at home on your thoughts and see what these tests say.  I will support your decision no matter what.”

“Thank you, Babe. I love you.  Have a great day at work.”

“I love you too. I hope you have a great one as well.”

You were talking to Donna at work about everything that you had found out.  She had spent a little time working in her aunt’s office and at one point had been premed in school, you valued her opinion.

“You need to get it taken out girly, it’s already grown a lot on you.  I know how much you and Dean want kids.  If you wait too long you run the risk of losing that chance.”

“Part of me knows that, but the other part of me is worried about what is going to happen during surgery.”

“That’s understandable, any surgery there is a risk.  This doctor has done thousands of these, you’ll be fine, most importantly you’ll be better. Don’t ignore this, Dean and you can adopt if you can’t have kids, Dean won’t be fine if he loses you.  Don’t do those shots, there is a lot of risk with those, and you could run into even more problems.”

“Those shots are pretty much off the table, I really don’t like the idea of them.  I know your right, a part of me just really doesn’t want more surgery.  The last week the pain has gotten worse so I don’t know that I can put this off.”

“I know Sweetie, surgery makes anyone nervous.  This will all work out.”

“Thanks, Donna, you are an amazing friend.”

After dinner that night you and Dean were sitting in the living room and you decided you weren’t going to think about any medical issues.  While he had the game on you grabbed your computer and recipe binder. Settling next to Dean on the couch you pulled up Pinterest and Christmas recipe ideas. You had been scrolling for a few minutes when Dean looked over at your screen.

“What are you looking up Christmas for?”

“Mom and Dad’s Christmas party is a month from tomorrow, and I need to get my baking list around.”

“What do you mean a month away, that’s before Thanksgiving?”

“With Thanksgiving being so late this year, they are doing it the Saturday before.  That way it has less chance running into other Holiday parties.  You don’t want to do it Thanksgiving weekend, and then there are only three other weekends before Christmas and there will be a bit going on.  So I need to figure out what’s on my baking list this year, what’s staying, what I’m adding.”

“It’s too early to talk Christmas.”

“Hallmark starts Christmas movies this weekend, Saturday has some of my favorites we can watch after work!”    

“It’s not even Halloween Y/N, I’m not watching Christmas movies!” Dean threw his head back against the couch turning slightly to glare at you.

“You say that now, we’ll see what happens when I get that remote,” you smirked.  “I could happily watch them year-round.”

“Ehh, your getting better with that.  You used to be into Christmas songs and movies 361, the couple days leading up to Christmas Eve and sometimes that morning you were a little bah humbug saying you were done with all of it.  Then the day after Christmas you start singing Frosty again.”

You just glared at him for a minute, “It was the stress, and trying to get everything just right and make everyone happy.  My shopping will be done, before 2 days before Christmas this year.  I’m going to enjoy it, no stress.”

“Sure thing, Sweetheart, whatever you say.  We’ll see how you are on December 23rd.”

“Going back to the Holiday of the month we are actually in, Sam wanted to know if we wanted to come over Thursday night.  See Jake in his first Halloween costume, hand out candy to the Trick-or-Treaters.  Mom and dad are going to be there too.”

“Sure I’m in. It’s usually a busy night for us so I will be over after I can leave work.”

“Okay so we have my usual baking items: Sugar cookies I  think I’m going to keep it simple and just do drop cookies instead of cut outs, buckeyes, peanut butter blossoms, no bakes, petit-fours, truffles, cranberry bars and the varieties of chocolates those I’ll make with mom. Now I need to figure out some new ones. Hey what do you think about, hey, where are you going?”

“I need a beer if we are going to talk about your crazy Christmas baking list.”

You waited for Dean to settle back next to you to show him your finds.

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923042596801/

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923042596805/

“You’re on a Grinch kick this year aren’t you? You mentioned a few weeks ago you wanted a Grinch sweatshirt this year.”

“Maybe, part of me is. Anyways thoughts? What about these?” https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923042556919/

“Ooohhhh, Do you think I could make these?” https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923040748115/

“We aren’t going to be using our kitchen to make actual food anytime soon are we?  I love you and you are very talented when it comes to your baking but I don’t know if you have the patience for those cupcakes.”

“You’re probably right, it does tend to run thinner when I’m trying to get all this stuff done. Look on the bright side, the party is early this year so I will have the kitchen back to normal sooner.”

“Sureee you will.”

You weren’t going to admit it to Dean right now, but you were trying to force yourself into the Holiday spirit. With everything going on you weren’t sure you were going to be in the celebrating mood this year.  You knew how much he loved the Holiday, and the time with family together. You would put on a happy face for him.

Dean took you to your appointment Tuesday afternoon, because they didn’t recommend driving after since you were going to be in a bit of pain.  It wasn’t even a five minute test to go take a swab of the uterus lining to send in to check for abnormal or cancer cells. They were right though, you definitely hurt after.  You and Dean picked up food on the way home so neither of you would have to cook or clean up. He got you situated on the couch with a heating pad after you got home. You two spent another quiet night in.  The next afternoon you took yourself to your ultrasound.  The results for both tests would be back in time for your appointment the following Tuesday.  

Thursday was Halloween, and you were short handed at work again, but not as busy as you were expecting to be.  You left around 7 and headed over to Sam and Jess’ house.  5-month-old Jake was dressed up in a cute duck onesie.  After saying hi to the couple, your husband, and his parents you grabbed some food and settled down with Jake.  You were told you just missed Cas, his wife Kelly, and their son Jack. The one year old getting cranky and ready for bed.  Jess and Mary joined you shortly.  The guys were watching one of the All Saint’s Day movies.  Apparently having a little one to get excited about put Sam in a better Halloween mood then he usually was in.  Mary asked how you were doing; Dean had apparently told her a few days before and Jess had just found out tonight.

“I’m alright, it’s been going on over a month and I think at this point I want a plan.  I want to know what’s going to happen.  But I want to make sure that we decide on the right course of action too.”

Both ladies assured you they thought you would be fine, and that everything would work out for you. Your attention turning to the little boy on the floor in front of you.

You spent your weekend working and had started some grocery shopping for you baking supplies.  Those supplies then found a home on your kitchen counter.  So Dean was right, he was slowing losing the kitchen for a little while.

Tuesday afternoon saw you and Dean back in your new doctor’s office waiting to be called back.  It wasn’t a long wait and you headed back. Thankful your tests had come back normal and the new ultrasound didn’t show any new problems.  Because of the last surgery you had there was to much scar tissue in your abdomen for the surgery to be done robotically, and the fibroid was too big.  You did have the option for another procedure, he described it as resetting your uterus.  He did tell you it wouldn’t do anything for the fibroid, but it could get your periods back under control and might lesson some pain, you would need a few days off work. The best chance you had if you wanted to get pregnant sometime was to have the fibroid removed.  Now you just needed to make a decision on what you were going to do.  You were leaning toward surgery and when you didn’t make a definitive decision the doctor told you to come back in 2 weeks.  When you were checking out and scheduling the next appointment you asked how far out the wait for surgery was. His calendar was filling up and he only had December 9th and 23rd open.

On your way home you and Dean talked about what you both were thinking.  You told him you were leaning toward surgery, and he also thought that would be your best choice.  Now you just weren’t sure you really wanted to wait.  If you called your first doctor, he could do the surgery in two weeks, he just had to wait for insurance purposes.  Honestly, he was never busy. That put you the day before your parents Christmas party or waiting till the next weekend which was the day after Thanksgiving.  Another problem you had was making sure you had help at work. Right now, you didn’t have the help to do it.  If you pushed it too far into December it was going to be a problem with your foot surgery.  They had said with your stomach because they were cutting it open you would need to be careful not to tear your stitches for a few weeks and be limited for 6 weeks with what you could do. Crutches weren’t going to be a good thing to mix in.  

Your parents, you and Dean all talked.  You didn’t have the help to do the surgery in November, December wasn’t a good idea because of your next surgery.  You decided if the doctor thought you could wait you would do the foot surgery in January and then six weeks later when you should be able to start putting some pressure on your foot you would have the other.  That way the six weeks you needed to be careful with the second surgery would be ending in time for therapy in May.  Work was going to be getting better help wise because you were selling on of your locations.  The gas station next door to one of them wanted to expand and the only way they could was if they bought your property.  That deal was supposed to close first of January. Your foot surgery was scheduled for the 16th.  Things seemed to fall in to place for that all to work out.

You still weren’t feeling the best, but you were glad to have noticed you didn’t have the pain in your side and stomach every day anymore.  It had turned into just having really bad periods every few weeks.

When you went to your appointment two weeks later you went alone and talked to the doctor about your thoughts and timeline. He didn’t think that would be a problem, telling you before he left that removing it was your best option.  They weren’t’ scheduling yet for February or March so they would call you when those books opened.

If you were honest, you were feeling better with what you had decided on.  Also, the fact that no one was worried enough to say you had to get in right now for surgery.  You were still going to worry between now and surgery it was just who you were.  

It was the third week of November, your new focus on the upcoming Holidays.  You had already started your baking, freezing everything once it was made cooled and put in an airtight container. The list was still shorter this year it only had about 15 things on it.  You didn’t get the Grinch recipes made, or the snow globe cupcakes, but you did make the thumb print snowmen. Next year.  Two days before the party you moved on from baking to getting the food you were doing around.  In between all this also trying to help your mom decorate their house and putting decorations up at yours.  You didn’t end up doing as much to your house as you usually would, but just less to take down after and you knew things would be crazy then.  

The day of the party both you and your mom ended up being stuck at work longer than you were supposed to be.  This meant you had to work quicker when you got home.  Dean went to your parents with you to help with the last minute set up. It was nice living on the same street as them, so you didn’t have far to go.  With the final cleaning finished you were in the kitchen with Dean starting to get food around while your mom ran upstairs to shower.  Your brother and his girlfriend coming shortly after.  They had been dating for almost a year, but she didn’t come around much, so you didn’t know her well.  Trying to ask her questions about herself didn’t get you very far because she only gave one-word answers.  You looked to Dean and he just shrugged his shoulders, not knowing how to get much out of her either.  When your mom came back down, and the food was in good shape you and dean went home to get ready and get the desserts.

You always enjoyed this party it was family from both of your parent’s sides, Dean’s family started coming when you two were dating. A variety of your parent’s friends along with your brother’s and yours. You were surprised to see more cars in the driveway when you returned. Cas, Benny and Kelly were in the kitchen talking to your dad and brother, along with one of his old friends from school. It didn’t take long for the house to fill up with people and the sounds of laughter.  It was close to one by the time you and Dean went home after helping to clean up.  You were beat and ready to fall into bed, Dean not far behind.

The restaurant you were selling, was the store you spent every day at, it had been your baby over the last 8 years.  Since you were going to be closing it soon you had cut back on the Sunday hours which meant you and Dean could enjoy a lazy morning after the party. It was nice not to get up and go, you had missed the relaxing mornings you two used to enjoy. When you finally dragged yourselves from bed it was to the kitchen to make a late breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. You would have to head in to work after lunch, but that didn’t mean you had to be in a hurry to get ready.  After cleaning up the kitchen Dean dragged you back to the bedroom where you spent a little more time catching up.

That week was Thanksgiving which meant a shorter work week for you both.  Thursday morning started off much like Sunday’s had, although you both had to be out the door by noon and have your food and deserts ready. A late lunch with your family at your grandmother’s house was first.  The Y/L/N could be a rowdy group, so it was usually a good time as long as you could avoid any family arguments.  After cleaning up there you would head to Dean’s parents where they had an early dinner. You tried not to eat too much at either place for two reasons, one you wanted to be able to move later and two you were trying to avoid being sick.  It didn’t hit you as much as before, but you never knew when it would.  After the guys collapsed in front of the football game on tv, Mary and Jess hit the adds. You left to go pick up your mom.  The last two years you to had done some Thursday evening shopping because you both worked on Friday, and it gave you time just he two of you.  You hit the mall and a few stores trying to start on your shopping list.  You meant it when you told Dean that everything was going to be done early this year. You were going to enjoy the Holiday season.  When you finished you dropped her back at home before going back to your in-laws. A short time later you and Dean headed home.

Much like it does every year December flies by.  You hadn’t finished your shopping as early as you wanted, but you weren’t as stressed about it this year.  You enjoyed nights with Dean curled up on the couch.  You had seen the Grinch more times than you could count this year, I guess you were having a Grinchy year.  Before you knew it, Christmas Eve was here.  Both you and Dean worked that morning before meeting your families at church for the 4 o’clock service.  You had to go early if you wanted a park, and a seat.  It was always so beautifully decorated for Christmas, you enjoyed taking it all in waiting for Mass to start. One of your favorite parts of this service was when Father would call any little kids up that wanted to and ask them questions about the religious aspects of the holiday. Where was Jesus born?  Your favorite answer this year was Baltimore. What gifts did the baby receive? Cake and ice cream.  The answers they came up with were always a laugh.  You hoped you would be sending your own child up there someday.

Everyone headed to your parents’ house after, some other family and friends would be joining you. You had dinner and then played games. As you and your cousins had grown so had the games.  Jake was the only child present and he wasn’t old enough to understand what was going on. With all the adults playing it could get a little rowdy especially between Sam and Dean.  One of your aunts had done that gifts wrapped in a saran wrap ball and it seemed like only those two could make much progress.  So of course, when one of them was trying to unwrap the other would give a little trash talk.  You had been feeling a little off and would disappear from the room.  When the ball was unwrapped, and Dean saw you left again he came to find you.  He found you sitting on the steps just outside your parents’ upstairs bathroom.

“Everything all right, Sweetheart?”

“Not really, my stomach is hurting me a bit and if I try to eat or drink I’m running to the restroom because it’s going to make a reappearance.”

“Anything I can do to make it better?”

“Thank you, but no I just need to tough it out.”

“Soon Y/N this is all going to be behind you honey.”

“I cannot wait.”

He held you close as you both sat on the steps for a few minutes softly kissing the top of your head.  When you rejoined your family, they were on to a different game.  The two of you hanging back to watch.  When the time came to leave you were more than ready to head home just so Dean could hold you in bed.  You fell into a fitful sleep that night, not feeling all that much better when you awoke.

The two of you were spending the morning at your mom and dad’s and then going to John and Mary’s in the afternoon. Your dad’s mom and siblings joined you for breakfast and afterwards you exchanged gifts.  Luckily, you only had to leave the room once.  Dean knew you weren’t feeling well so the two of you left shortly after to go home before heading to his parent’s house. When you arrived, you headed to the kitchen to help Mary.  The two of you got along really well, you often considered yourself luck in that way. A few of your friends didn’t have the best relationship with their in-laws. By the time Sam and Jess arrived dinner was ready, and you all gathered round the table to enjoy. It was a great night spent with them.

The end of December was quickly approaching, and you hadn’t heard anything from the company buying your story, communication had just stopped.  After you talked to your dad, he started making phone calls to the company again to see what was going on.  Their plans for the property and been pushed back a few months so they were no longer in a hurry to close. You ended up pushing your foot surgery back there weeks till the 6th of February.  Your dad finally got a date out of them you were closing on Monday the 3rd of February, that would also be the last day open.  You would spend the next two days moving everything out. The New Year wasn’t even here yet and you knew it was going to be going fast.  

Things were going to get busy for you in January, so you and Dean decided you just wanted a quiet night in for New Year’s.  At the store you picked up a bottle of Sparkling Cider to toast with, neither one of you big Champagne drinkers, along with a few different appetizers to make.  The evening was spent curled up on the couch watching movies, until you switched over to watch the ball drop. Sharing a sweet kiss with Dean when midnight arrived.  This was going to be your year.  The surgeries would be done soon, you and Dean could move on with the rest of your lives, it was all going to work out and be fine.

You had been right when you told Dean January would be crazy.  You spent the month working on cleaning out things at work.  The office took a bit of time, dividing up what was going home and what you were sending to your new office.   Cleaning out things you didn’t use any more, what you were selling and what was moving to the other location.  On top of all that you were trying to keep a relatively clean house and not let everything there fall on Dean’s shoulders. Everyday it seemed like a little bit more left the store and the shelves were slowly becoming bare.

Sunday through Wednesday of closing week was going to be extremely chaotic for you all, so you wanted things at home that needed to be done before surgery finished by Saturday. You cleaned the house top to bottom, rearranged the living room furniture so it would be easier to navigate on crutches, got the crutches ready,  finished laundry and tried to stock up on non-perishable groceries so Dean wouldn’t have to go out as much.  

The last two days you were open were particularly emotional for you.  This location had been your baby and second home for the last 8 years, you had helped with the cleaning, gutting, and remodeling of the building when you bought it.  Everything was set up just how you wanted it.  When you went back to work in a few months at the other location it was going to be vastly different.  Sitting at the closing you were trying to hold back the tears as you signed the papers, part of you wished Dean was there to give you some of his strength but he had to be at the shop that day since he was taking the next 3 days off.  Leaving the closing you went to work to open for the last time.  That day was extremely busy for your and Donna so many of your loyal customers coming in one last time.  Dean came in for a late lunch giving you a much-needed hug, he left after promising to be back before closing.  Dean along with your parents came back before closing helping you to clean up and finish making orders.  When you turned the open sign off one last time Dean pulled you into his arms and held you while you cried.

“It’s okay Sweetheart. It’s the start of a new chapter, you have a lot of memories to take with you.”

“Thanks, Dean. I know, I just hate goodbyes, and change.”

“I know you do, but it’s a good one.  Keep telling yourself that.  Closing this story is going to help greatly relieve some stress.”

“You’re right, Babe.”

“Hey! I’m always right. We should probably head home; we have an early busy day tomorrow.”

It was six am when you and Dean pulled back into the parking lot the next day.  You had wanted a few minutes without the others around to take care of some of your stuff.  By 6:30 someone was there to disconnect the water lines so the pop dispenser and ice machine could be moved.  Your parents arrived at 7 and you started loading both of their trucks and the trailer with items going to the other store.  Sam arrived and went with Dean in one of the trucks following your mom to go unload. Electricians, and others arrived to get the oven and its components unhooked.  You had gone around the day before and put a note on everything stating where it was going, whether the other store, your or your parents’ house for storage, staying in the building or going somewhere and you just didn’t know where yet.  The movers were the last to arrive taking some of the bigger equipment for you, this way you guys didn’t have to figure out how to get it on and off a trailer.  Dean and Sam arrived back to help load the truck and your SUV. At one-point Dean took one of the “going somewhere” notes and tapped it to your back.  It was awhile and two stops later before anyone told you. It was 6 o’clock that night when you put the last load in your car to leave for the day, heading home to unload one more time.  By the time it was unloaded your foot hurt so bad you could barely walk, both you and Dean collapsing on the couch not moving till you went to bed.

The next day you had a few more things to get out of the store and had to meet the pop company to pick up their equipment since they couldn’t come the previous day.  You left the store that afternoon for the final time. Your OB and scheduled one last ultrasound you had to run and get that done, thankfully the fibroid had not changed from your last one in December. One more grocery store run to stock up for a bit, then home to vacuum and make sure you were all packed for the hospital.  

Both your mom and Dean were going with you for surgery, but Dean had an early morning meeting the next day he couldn’t reschedule so your mom was staying the night in the hospital and bringing you home the next day.  It was an hour drive and you had to be there at 6:30 for an 8:30 surgery. You went through all your pre-op things and your mom and Dean joined you back there waiting for you to go.  Several people were in and out of your little curtain room, the surgeon, anesthesiologist, nurses, and med students.  It was finally time to wheel you back after getting one last hug and kiss from Dean and him telling you everything would be fine.  A few hours later you woke up in recovery which is where you saw Dean and your mom again.  It is also where you found out they didn’t have a room for you, and you were staying in a short-term patient ward.  It was almost like a pre-op room, one giant room with 15 curtained off rooms.  Actually, the pre-op room was bigger.  There was a bed a chair and one of the old hospital TVs that moved.  The back of your foot where they did the heal work was bleeding through your after surgery splint and they said it would take a few hours to stop so they propped it up and told you, you couldn’t get out of bed. It only took a few hours for you to be tired of sitting in one spot, as someone who spent all day on her feet this was a struggle.  Sleeping in a hospital had never come easy for you with your previous surgeries and adding all the extra noise with so many people around that wasn’t happening either.  It was later in the afternoon when you told Dean he should go.

“Babe, you might as well head home, you have an hour drive and there isn’t anything you can do here. Plus, there really isn’t any room in here.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave if you need me.”

“We will be fine, I’m not moving, and mom will be here if I need something.  Go home get some rest it’s been a long week.  I love you I’ll see you at home tomorrow.”

“Love you too, I’ll call you later. Take care Sweetheart. Y/M/N, call me if you need something or anything.” He gave you a kiss and hugged your mom before leaving.

The rest of the evening and night dragged on, when you finally fell asleep that night you woke up almost every half and hour. The nurses were in every hour, and around 2am one of the other patients started screaming because he pulled something out he shouldn’t have.  By 5 am you gave up on sleep.  One of the doctors came in later in the morning to wrap another layer of gauze around your splint to cover up the blood, and by noon they let you go home.  

The next two weeks went fairly quickly, Dean made a good nurse when he was home at night getting you whatever you needed so you didn’t have to get up or try and carry anything while using the crutches.  You had practiced on the crutches before surgery, but it is still a little different when you have to be using them.  As your family knew well, you were also accident prone and managed to slip and slam your foot down a handful of times.  Both your parents, and his would stop over during the day to see if you needed anything or to bring you lunch.   The stitches and staples came out at the two-week mark, that wasn’t a fun experience you had never had it hurt as much as it did this time.  The doctor wasn’t putting you in a cast, he was going to let you leave in a boot which you would be able to take off if you were sitting with it up or to shower.  Thank you for small miracles!  The next appointment was four weeks away, the Friday before your Monday surgery.

The next month went fine for you, just very long.  You were still stuck at home so things did get a bit boring, a number of new games could be found on your phone and you found a website with fanfiction from your favorite show you started reading.  While fine for you, things were going nuts in the outside world, something called Covid-19 was making a lot of people extremely sick, overseas countries shut down and in the U.S., many states were doing the same thing.  Your follow up appointment was cancelled and moved to a video chat, then days before it was scheduled your next surgery was cancelled.  Stay at home orders were put in place and masks were required for those who had to leave the house.  

It was definitely a crazy time and it went on for a few months.  6 weeks after you last video appointment,  during the first full week of May, you had another and this one sent you to therapy if you could find someone open.  You could also lose the boot and work on losing the crutches. The place you had gone for past surgeries was open and you started back there.  This surgery was the hardest time you had to start walking again.  There was a bit of pain if your heel hit the ground, so you couldn’t completely get rid of the crutches like you wanted to.  The therapist you were working with said with the type of surgery done to your heel, the pain you had with it would determine what you could do and how fast you would get there.  

You got a call from your OB’s office, they were given the clear to start surgeries again and yours was scheduled for June 1st, which was two weeks away.  You had had a few problems over the last couple of months and just hoped nothing had changed and they would be able to just go in and take the fibroid out no problem.  The closer the date got the more worried you became.  Dean tried to tell you everything was going to be fine, and not to worry, but you aren’t the best listener.  Because of things going on with Covid, you needed to be home the week before surgery as much as possible only going to therapy twice and the grocery store once early in the week to get a few things you wanted.  For the last three months Dean had done the shopping, and you were thankful, but there were a few things you wanted to get yourself.  Saturday you were going to have to get a Covid test and then had to self-isolate until you left for the hospital on Monday morning.  The hardest part of that was going to be sleeping in a different room from Dean, you were even supposed to wear a mask when he was in the same room as you.  You had spent the week before rearranging the living room again, then cleaning the house best you could as you hobbled around. Friday night you spent the evening with Dean curled up in your spots on the couch.  The closer you got to surgery the more nervous you became.      

“Sweetheart, everything is going to go just fine.  There is nothing for you to worry about, and no matter how much you worry it isn’t going to change anything.”

“I know, I’m just, I can’t help it.  You know how my mind works I’m great at going to the worse case possible. I’ve always wanted kids, and I know you did too, I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to give that to you.”

“Hey, it’s you and me no matter what happens.  If we can have kids one day awesome, if not we will look into adopting.  What’s not changing is you and me, we are in this together, always.”

“I love you.  Thanks for being so amazing, especially during these last crazy months when I couldn’t do much on my own.”

“I love you, too. That’s what I’m here for, you would do the same thing for me.  You always take care of me when I’m sick.  I will always be here for you.”

“I will always be here for you too.”

Saturday morning you did a few more things around the house before giving Dean a kiss and leaving for your test.  It went fairly quick your doctor’s office scheduled you an appointment and you preregistered. You headed home to work on laundry and make sure you bag was packed. That evening you and Dean were watching movies in the living room, although unlike usual you weren’t sitting together on the couch.  Sunday was a warm sunny day, so you enjoyed it outside. Monday morning Dean took you to the hospital, you went through check in and then through the routine in pre-op.  Just before they took you back you snuck in a quick hug and kiss from Dean.  

“I love you, Baby, everything is going to be just fine.  I will talk to you after surgery.”

“I love you too, thank you for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.  We are in this together.  Love you Sweetheart.”

Dean was able to stay at the hospital during surgery, but he had to leave after. They weren’t allowing visitors into the hospital, so you were going to be on your own in the hospital for the next three days. Dean headed to the waiting room and they came to wheel you back to surgery.  Well, here goes nothing. 

Part 2

frozen hearts don’t thaw overnight

(gif credits to @harringtown​, thank you!)

Summary:  After the break-up with Nancy, Steve isn’t sure how to spend his Sunday mornings. He finds himself in the diner you work at week after week

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of loneliness

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Steve found himself in a never-ending battle with the cold. He hated the goosebumps and stiffness that it brought. Regardless of how many layers he wore, the wind found its way to his skin, frozen fingers running down his spine. No matter how many people he surrounded himself with, he always felt the coldness in their hollow laughs. He could turn on every light in his house, but, the shadows of simpler times lingered in the corners. His house was too big, any warmth dissipated in its sheer volume. 

Nancy was a candle, a small and steady flame that provided warmth and light. She was a comfort, someone who listened and paid attention. She invited him over for family meals that took place in a house full of life. The Wheeler house never felt empty, filled with Mrs. Wheeler’s homemade meals and genuine questions, sibling banter and occasional laughter, Holly’s wide eye gaze, and Mr. Wheeler’s unsolicited advice. As dysfunctional as the whirl-wind was, it the warmest Steve felt. 

The small flame burned for a while, long enough for Steve to get used to it. With a single breath, it was blown out. 

A single word, bullshit. 

It had been months, but the frost she left behind could not be shaken. Steve woke up to an empty house. The January morning air waited for him outside of his comforter, pouncing into his bones after he shrugged off the thick blanket. Sleep did its best to linger, clouding his vision and trapping warmth under his skin so he wouldn’t freeze. Steve would pull whatever sweatshirt he threw on closer to him as he walked down the stairs, footsteps echoing with each step. 

If this were months ago, he’d be rushing out the door, speeding off to Nancy’s house for Sunday brunch. He’d be glaring at Mike and trying whatever new breakfast casserole Mrs. Wheeler would subject him to. Nancy would give polite tight-lipped smiles, her hand would brush his bicep. 

Now, all that waits for him is an empty kitchen and a barely stocked fridge. As much as he’d gotten used to being alone, to cooking half-way decent meals for himself, to silent lonely meals, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get out. So like a moth to a flame, he sought out warmth. 

Steve grabs his keys off the hook and drives to the local diner.

 It was perfect. He could sit at a stool, no need to awkwardly ask for a table for one, order some hot food, and people watch. Sunday mornings brought all walks of life to the eatery; older couples share sticky buns and black coffee, parents groan as their children spill maple syrup on freshly pressed church clothes, hungover teenagers laugh as they piece together the night before. 

“Morning! What can I getcha?” A question plucks Steve from his wandering daze. He looks up to find your soft eyes. A white waitress hat, the one that resembles a paper boat, sits crookedly atop your head. He’s instantly entranced by your comforting energy, but realizes he can’t just soak it in, he needs to say something. 

“Um, can I get…” Steve quickly tries to scan the menu, hoping something jumps out to him in the next few milliseconds, “uh, a coffee with cream and sugar?” He looks up to you with a sheepish expression, as if his request was somehow odd and unreasonable. 

“Sure thing. Let me grab that, it’ll give you a bit more time with the menu.” you turn, off to get his coffee and a dish of cream cups and sugar. You’re gone just long enough to let Steve breathe and pick out his breakfast. You try not to over-analyze the somber energy that lingers around him as you set down the dishes and take his order. 

You and Steve didn’t really run in the same circles. Of course you knew of him, he was the king of Hawkins High himself, but you hadn’t known this Steve. This Steve had sunken shoulders and anxious eyes. As his trips to your diner became more frequent, you’d hope the puzzle pieces would fall into place, but it seemed like the opposite was happening. 

It was like watching a masterpiece flake away before your eyes. Every week more chips of paint would fall, the facade crumbling to reveal what was underneath, a sad and confused boy. 

You did pick up little things about what was underneath. You saw how he took his coffee, drowned in cream and sugar, a tower of empty cream cups assembled during his every visit. He held his mug with two hands when it rested on the counter, as if trying to warm up frozen fingertips. Loud noises and dogs barking made him stiff, his grip tightening on whatever was in his hand. He always took his eggs with hot sauce and dipped his potatoes in whatever was left. 

It seemed to be an especially harsh winter, not a week went by without flakes falling. Hawkins was covered in a thick blanket, the snow muffling and quieting the already sleepy town. Steve warmed despite the weather.  After weeks of sitting silently, observing others from his own little world, he tried to bring you into it. 

“Here is your ‘coffee’-” you laugh at the word, seeing as there was barely a drop of coffee amongst the cream and sugar, “and the number one. Need anything else?” You take your rehearsed pause you’ve learned to do after working here for so long. It was just enough time for patrons to look over what you delivered, or think of something they’ve needed since you last helped them. 

“Some warmer weather.” Steve gives a small chuckle to hide some of the seriousness behind his words. It seemed to be an endless winter, but the diner was always warm. You’re used to sarcastic answers like that from patrons, but this was the first time Steve’s joked around with you. 

“Well, l can call the weatherman, see if he can swing anything for ya.” If felt good to see a twinkle in his eyes, and not the distant grey that’s been plaguing them. He picks up his forks, pushing around some of his eggs. He shifts, taking a breath, contemplating his next moment.

“Has this seemed like an especially cold winter to you, too?” His gaze says on the plate, eyebrows knitted together, a small shake to his head. The lure was out, now to see if you’d humor him and bite. 

“Hm, maybe. To be honest, I don’t quite mind it. You know how hot it gets in here by now,” you draw another laugh from him. It feels like the two of you practically live amongst the checkered floor and coffee rings on the counter. “But when I’m not rocking this killer uniform, I usually have on one of the sweaters I knit.” 

A lopsided smirk pulls on Steve’s face, mischief flashing in his eyes. “You knit sweaters?” Steve’s smirk only widens as he notices you shift a bit, ready for your defensive words before they come.

“Ye-yeah. I do. What? It gives me something to do, and they’re warm.” You suddenly don’t know what to do with your arms, opting to cross them in front of your chest. In mere minutes the power dynamic has changed. Steve’s the one with witty comments while you’re left speechless. The sudden flip leaves you disoriented, and off to help other patrons.  

Weeks continued to pass, but winter held Hawkins with a firm grip. Spring wouldn’t be coming soon, but the diner was 24/7. It was always warm, not just from the grills but from the people. You and Steve had warmed up to one another. Long gone were the days of observing, now you couldn’t get him to shut up. You often got in trouble for talking to him too often, your manager joking that he was getting special treatment. 

The cold morning air still waited for Steve, but it didn’t seem to have the same edge. He was back to driving somewhere full of life and noise. Steve had found a place with smiling faces and people who cared about him again. He had a designated place to sit, where he’s expected and even anticipated. 

“Moring!” his voice especially chipper this Sunday. 

“Morning Steve!” you call from across the diner, scribbling his usual order on a ticket and handing it to the kitchen, not even needing to ask him what he wants. Before making your way behind the counter, you grab something from your bag. 

“Here” you place the brown paper package on the counter, along with his ‘coffee’ and fixings. 

“What’s this?” Steve raises his hands and eyebrows, eyes dancing from the string to your blushing cheeks. 

“Just open in” you insist, both for his sake and your own. His fingers make quick work of untying the twine you used and tearing through the paper. Underneath is something forest green and soft. He unfolds it to find a hand-made sweater. It takes a few moments to process, a few passes of his fingers against the stitches for him to realize what this means. 

“Did you make this, for me?” his question is soft as the snow outside the window. 

“No, it’s for Donna,” you giggle, nearly blinded by the light in his eyes when he looks at you. They’re wider than you’ve ever seen them, yet somehow harder to read than ever. A million emotions are welling behind them. The ice on his heart has melted, thawed by a new candle. 

“Thank you” is all he can say. It’s all-encompassing. Thank you for taking the time to make him a sweater, for helping him, for listening, for the food, for the laughs, for noticing him, for welcoming him, and for caring. He may be stuck in a never-ending battle with the cold, but now he had someone else on his team, and he was confident that they would be staying for a while.

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taglist: @kurtsbuckethat @harrington-ofhawkins @nxncywheeler @cececroft​

The Christmas Tree Surprise

Day 12 of 2020′s 31 Days of Ficmas.  Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the list!

Prompt: Tree

Rating: G

Pairing: 12xRose AU; part of the Queen of Hearts universe

Summary: Ian surprises Rose with a Christmas tree for them to decorate that’s just for their eyes - but it’s the decorations he has ready that makes her melt.

2020 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist  |  Queen of Hearts masterlist

AO3

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“Goodbye!”  With a final wave to the schoolchildren gathered on the steps, Rose stepped into the town car, smiling and blowing kisses out the window as they pulled away from Arcadia Grammar School, waiting until they were out of sight to sink back into the leather.  “I loved that.”

“I’m glad, ma’am,” her private secretary, Jo, said warmly.  “And they loved you, of course.  I suspect I know what they’ll go home telling their parents about at supper tonight.”

Rose smiled at the idea.  “I hope so- that they enjoyed it, I mean.  I’m just glad I was able to read the book without any mistakes.  That’s my definition of a successful engagement, at least!”  It was only in the last few weeks she’d graduated to doing solo events, and though terribly stressful, she was proud of how they’d gone – no incidents yet, though a few near misses.  Most importantly to her, though, she hadn’t walked out of any yet, nor burst into tears. High standards you’ve got for yourself, Rose Tyler.  “So, what’s next?”

Jo consulted her iPad, scrolling for only a moment.  “The King has blocked off the next two hours of your schedule.  No description was given, only to go directly to your suite – he’ll meet you there.”

“That’s odd.”  Rose frowned, biting her lip as she thought.  “Gosh, I’m not in trouble for anything, am I?”

“I doubt it,” Jo dismissed out of hand.  “It’s the first of December – if I know him, you’ll be drowning in tinsel the moment you walk through the door.  Decorating the Palace may be your responsibility, but he’ll handle your suite.  Just you wait and see.  I’m sure it’s fine.”

Rose chewed on that the rest of the drive back, hoping the other woman was right – not that she really doubted her, as she hadn’t been steered wrong yet, but a not-so-small part of her heart was convinced any moment they’d decide she wasn’t learning quickly enough, or performing well enough as Queen, and send her home with only the things she’d arrived with.

The Palace was bustling as they pulled up, the grounds crew decorating for the holiday season and transforming the normally-magical (to Rose) Palace into a winter wonderland.  Fresh garland was being hung over every doorway and window frame on every level, complete with red, gold, and silver ornaments nestled amongst the sprigs.

“It’s beautiful,” Rose breathed as they entered, making Jo laugh. The page stationed just inside the door took her coat, and she headed up the stairs towards their suite of rooms making mental notes on the needed decorations; work hadn’t started indoors quite yet, as she was still pouring over pictures of previous years to get an idea of how it should look.

At the top of the stairs Jo peeled off towards her own office, and Rose traversed the last few meters to her door alone.  Smiling at the guard who let her through, she was nearly overpowered by the scent of fir.  Coughing slightly, she followed her nose to the end of the hall where their bedroom door was cracked open; pushing inside, she found her husband watching with his arms crossed as two teenaged pages wrapped lights around a tree.

Not just a tree- a gigantic tree.  A good three or four meters high it stretched towards the ceiling, so straight she was certain supports were in use.  It was terribly wide, though their bedroom was so large in and of itself that it felt perfectly at size.  Blimey.  Row after row of unlit lights wound from the top down, the sweaty pages finishing the last of it with relieved sighs.

“Right, let’s light her up, see how it looks,” Ian said.

One page went around the back towards the outlet while the other turned to face Ian; catching sight of Rose, his eyes widened, and he bowed to her. “Your Majesty.”

“Hi, Sam,” Rose said faintly, stepping up to Ian’s side. “Hey, you.  What on Earth is this?”

“It’s our Christmas tree,” her husband grinned, kissing her hello. “Don’t worry, we’ll be decorating it together, but I’ve learned that there can be certain perks to this job, and getting someone else to do the bits I can’t stand is part of that.  In this case, stringing lights on a tree.”

“Happy to do so, Sir,” Sam assured him as the lights flicked on, Josh stepping out from behind the tree and bowing to her as well.  “What do you think?”

Arm in arm Rose and Ian stared at the tree; knowing he was probably examining it from a practical viewpoint, she just took in the beauty and the wonder – she’d never had a Christmas tree in her bedroom before, and certainly not with half a dozen others expected to be sprinkled throughout the house.  Not that the 170-room palace she now called home counted as a house.  Is this really my life?

“Rose?  What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” she said firmly.  “Just as it is.  Thank you, Sam, and Josh.  Lovely job.”

Recognizing the dismissal for what it was both young men bowed, murmured, “Your Majesty”, and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind them and leaving Rose and Ian alone.

“Hello again,” he greeted her, turning to face her and wrapping his arms around her waist, drawing her close.  “How’d it go at the school?”

She reached up to kiss him, just because she could, before leading him over to their sofa and curling up next to each other as she gushed. “Oh, it was wonderful!  They were all so bright, and kind.  I read the story, answered a few questions and asked some of my own, and they sang a Christmas carol – “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”, if you must know.  It couldn’t have gone better.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.”  His eyes crinkled, as he kissed her knuckles.  “I was hoping it would.  I know how important it is to you.”

Rose just smiled, glancing back over her shoulder towards the tree now dominating their living space.  “Thanks. What’s the plan here, then?”

“When you’re ready, I thought we’d decorate it together.  More of a homemade style, if you’re interested. Everything out there,” he gestured towards the doors, “will be prim and polished and befitting a royal Palace, but in here, I want it to be just a normal married couple celebrating their first Christmas together.”

“Normal, right,” she teased, elbowing him.  “In our one hundred-plus square meter bedroom, with five-meter high ceilings and an army of staff.  Not to mention real, actual, literal crown jewels.  Not just a euphemism!”

Ian rolled his eyes in a good-natured way.  “Decorations are over there, if you want to start.”

“Mhmm, not quite yet.  Tell me about the tree – where did you find it?”

“Find it?”  His tone was somewhat bewildered.  “Didn’t anyone tell you- clearly not.  No, I own some acreage in Germany, all of which is forest.  Clearly we’ve had it zoned for cutting down Christmas trees, and it supplies the Palace and Arcadia’s Town Square with trees every year – sustainably, of course.”

Jaw dropping slightly, Rose wondered if it would ever cease to amaze her at how casually he could mention property and possessions – the land in France, where the family vineyard and winery stood, financing some of their royal lifestyle; a ski chalet in the Swiss Alps just over the border from Gallifrey; a “cottage” on Lake Como; and now this.  “How international of you,” she managed, making him laugh.

“It’s a royalty thing,” Ian grinned.  “Pretty much everything’s been in the family for centuries, at this point – especially land.  Most of it’s dowries from various queens marrying in, back when Europe was littered with royal families.  I think the most recent addition was the purchase of a flat in Paris in the Twenties. My great-grandmother was from Lyon, and met my great-grandfather by happenstance at the vineyard.  As a wedding present he got her the flat, and they’d go up for weeks at a time.”  He coughed. “It wasn’t the best investment in hindsight, but it’s still there and ours, though I don’t think anyone’s been since my parents honeymooned there.  But we can visit at some point, if you like.”

“Not if it’s a problem, but yeah, I’d love that.”  A glance at the tree refocused her.  “Tell me more about the trees, though.”

“The parcel of land came into the family as part of a dowry, as I said, of a Württemberg princess, back when the area was a Duchy in the Holy Roman Empire.  Over time, parts were sold off until just a dozen or so acres remained.  The team that manages the site has been doing so for, oh, two hundred years, so they have it down to a science.  Any excess trees that would be too big after another year of growth are sold – mostly to local governments or other high-ceilinged buildings.  It’s not necessarily a moneymaker, but the sales bring in enough to keep everything operating, which is honestly all I care about.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Rose said truthfully.  “Have you ever been up to see it?”

His brows furrowed in thought.  “As a child, but not recently.  I think Donna took the twins up two years ago to pick one out for Lungbarrow House.  If you like, we can go up next year.”

“I’d like that.”

They fell silent then, admiring the lights strung on the tree. It was nearly hypnotizing, Ian’s steady heartbeat beneath her ear, his warm arms around her, the twinkling lights blinking in and out, all of it working together to lull her to sleep.

And when she slept, she dreamed of wandering through a forest, Ian’s hand in hers, a small child running ahead shrieking with joy.

-

It wasn’t until after dinner they had the opportunity to actually decorate.  While Ian started an instrumental Christmas playlist, Rose opened the first storage container full of decorations – and froze.

“Surprise.”  Her husband’s chuckle behind her made Rose spin, eyes wide.

“You- My- How?”  Speechless, she gestured to the tub, full of her childhood ornaments.

Looking inordinately pleased with himself, he reached in and pulled out the top ornament- clearly school-made, it featured a four-year-old Rose and a toothy grin.  “I called your mum a few weeks ago, and asked her if she had any ornaments you might want put on our tree.  She shipped them out, and they arrived yesterday.  Plus, we brought everything you had in your flat- it’s all combined in this container.”  His smile faltered.  “I hope that’s all right- that I didn’t overstep.  I was very clear I was only asking for things she didn’t mind parting with.”

Overwhelmed, Rose threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”  His arms went easily around her waist.  “This is your home now, and I want it to feel that way.  Over time we’ll build up our own supply of sentimental ornaments, but our individual childhood ones seemed a good start.”

“It is.  I also want to set our own traditions, though.  But you better have similar ones – I don’t want my baby pictures to be the only ones on there!”

Ian laughed.  “They won’t be,” he reassured her.  “I have plenty handmade, awkward picture ornaments as well, and they’re sitting in that box there,” he pointed to the one beneath her own.  “Now, shall we start?”  He handed over the one he’d originally picked up.  “I confess to having rifled through them somewhat, and this was one of my favorites.  I think it should be first on the tree- would you like the honors?”

“Together.”

Hand in hand they stepped up the tree, and by mutual, silent agreement, slid it onto a branch front and center.

“Perfect.”

And it was.

andy wyatt headcanons?

AAAH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ENABLING MY ANDY OBSESSION!! i love this woman so much. i’m sorry this is so late! it took my brain forever! (and it’s SUPER long and rambly oops)

andy is bi. YES I KNOW THERE’S NO CANON BASIS FOR THIS but, (as you know) this is one of my favorite tww things to think about. she’s known since college, and isn’t ashamed of it- the only reason she isn’t out is because of her job as a congresswoman. she isn’t one to back down from a fight, but this is one that she knows she won’t win. she doesn’t want to be a congresswoman and then retire- she wants to keep moving up in politics. but andy sometimes hates that she’s had to keep it a secret- she tries to make up for it by fighting for gay rights on a national and state level, and never backing down. it’s one of her biggest issues, and she’s made a lot of progress during her term, which is something she’s proud of.

she has always wanted kids- her and toby tried throughout their whole marriage. she had a lot of trouble conceiving, and had a miscarriage that was… horribly painful for both of them. this is basically canon, i think- we see in a flashback that andy and toby went through a lot, and went to a ton of doctors to try and get pregnant. they both really wanted kids, and even after the divorce, they wanted them together, so andy kept trying (with toby’s permission- they discussed the decision a lot.) the twins were still sort of a miracle, though, and she was thrilled.

andy bakes a lot when she’s stressed- she doesn’t LOVE to cook, that’s more toby’s area, but she can bake super well. she used to bake with her sisters as a kid, and she keeps it up now as a break from work.

ok, so you know this one too lmao- she is in love with cj and toby, she’s been in love with them for years, and they were together before andy and toby got married. this is an… extremely rare ship, you and i might be the only people who talk about it, but i LOVE IT SO MUCH.  this is why she wouldn’t remarry toby- they don’t work without cj. the two of them will always be the loves of her life, and it breaks andy’s heart that they can’t be together (largely because of their jobs, they all still love each other,) and raise huck and molly as a family.

toby and andy met on a campaign in new york- they were the smartest people on the campaign. he was her boss, and was a few years older than her, so he refused to make the first move. andy is NOT someone to sit around and wait for a man (eyes-a-fluttering, parasols-a-twirling, as cj would say) so she marched up to toby one night when they were working and lectured him on his “misguided patriarchic principles that kept him from asking out a consenting adult, etc,” before dragging him into his office and kissing him. they both felt like they won that argument. needless to say, work got a lot better after that. they lost, and andy moved on to other things (she started working towards becoming the candidate instead of getting other ones elected), and toby found another campaign to work on. but they stayed together, and later, toby met cj, and they all fell into this THING of best friends and girlfriends and politics and the place they all meet in the middle.

she is definitely better friends with cj then we see- i have a TON of romantic headcanons about these two but even in canon, i think they were really good friends. andy and cj met when they were much younger, and were fast friends. cj helped her with her campaign while she was at emily’s list, and she still gives andy professional advice (mainly in the PR area, andy doesn’t need much help with politics.) anyway, they have weekly lunches that get cancelled sometimes when they are busy- but they do their best to replace the lunches with a phone call when they can. cj is a huge part of andy’s life, and the two of them know each other so deeply that being together is something that they both kind of need to get through the week. for both of them, it’s an escape from their daily lives- for cj it’s a much needed breather from white house politics, even though she loves the people she works with dearly. for andy, it’s a nice break from working with the same people, over and over again, and being able to hang out with someone for fun, not for networking purposes. (sorry this is so long i just love them so MUCH)

she was very busy during the first bartlet campaign, but always tried to join them when they made stops near where she was. andy used to hang out with donna and cj, mostly, but she got to know everyone eventually. they used to play hilarious drinking games, and... well, she found out a LOT of stuff about some of the assistants that she didn’t know before.

andy is a lot closer with donna after gaza- she feels very guilty, at first, but she eventually realizes the only way to start getting over that was to talk to donna. and while at first it was awkward, once they established that donna didn’t blame andy at ALL for anything, their conversation came a lot easier. donna told her about the trauma therapist she had seen, just in case andy needed it. they started going out to lunch every week- or whenever their schedules permitted it, and when donna made the choice to leave the white noise, andy offered her a job. donna didn’t take it, of course. andy completely understood- she had a feeling the choice to leave was a bit more personal that she let on. the job was in washington, and, well, donna wanted to get as far away from josh lyman as she could. but she kept in touch with andy, asking for her advice a few times on the campaign trail.

she likes to watch soap operas!! this is completely random, but ihave grown attached to the thought of andy watching elaborate soap operas at home in her sweats, shaking her head as the main character is revealed to have yet another sibling. toby draws a line at her watching them with the kids, even though they’re far too young to understand. andy still sneaks it in, though- molly always stops crying when she turns it on, and she’ll take whatever method she has left.

i think she was a lawyer, but only practiced for a year or two before going into politics. andy loved law school, but she quickly realized that practicing wasn’t her favorite thing to do. when she decides to run in the upcoming election, she puts that education to good use. she loves being a congresswoman more than she’s loved anything, but she doesn’t regret the path that got her there for a second.

i loved doing this!! if anyone wants me to expand on this, shoot me an ask!! i could talk about her... forever. xoxo

Since I’m in this brainrot alone, of course I’m just gonna end up thinking of a Hypmic AU with muses and their friends because I’m trash like that. Anyway, to avoid spamming my discord with the ideas, I’m just writing it on here. So a couple muses and those from @arcxnumvitae and @shxtteredillusions​.

Starting with Kesil just because he honestly doesn’t fit with the rest. His actually came first as I thought of him with his friends from a different platform. He would be rolling with his delinquent/probably doing some illegal shit friends. Their style is more like MTC with the rough and tumble, down and dirty sort of thing. His MC name is actually Shinigami because I gotta stick with his ‘thing’ no matter the AU! I do not know what his mic nor speakers would end up like. I think most of his themes are related to him as a killer as he in this verse likely only learned and became good with a hypmic just because it’s the only weapon he could have. I mean...he probably could sneak one regardless but since most weapons were phased to mics, he probably learned. His rap ability would probably be something like Death Reversal, basically he could deny himself or his comrades of being knocked out as it fits with his actual ability of death force manipulation. Of all the guys I think he’s most like, it’s probably Rio as I don’t feel he’s overly expressive. Not because of lack of feeling but just that cool under pressure sore of thing

--

Anyway onto the Bastion Kids because they’re my faves to mess with

Ofc Lucien’s the easiest to think of this crap for. I do not have a MC name because unlike the creators, I have shame. But probably something wolf related. I feel his mic would be pretty old so look like a carbon microphone (because I think I’m funny) and be pretty simple. Don’t know what his speakers would be like. I think his themes are actually rather mundane when outside of battle. But in battle, cutthroat bastard. He’s like absolute annihilation of his enemy, his words are like the maw of a beast, he’d rip you to shreds. His ability is Cornered Counter, basically as his energy dwindles, his attacks get more powerful. Basically you gotta be decisive with him because the longer he lasts, the more dangerous he is. So obviously his is most like Samatoki’s as it fits his aggressive tone and no back down attitude. 

I have a feeling he probably pissed off the Party of Words and thus if they had the chance to deal with him, they would’ve. Maybe he and his fam had differing views as to how to take this change in the world. I feel like he preferred the old ways but had to adapt to using a hypnosis mic in order to survive. And survive he did. 

Katarina’s was somewhat easier to do because she’s very clear in her presentation. I debate if she’d just straight up use her name or if it’d be something like Prima (either by itself or being Prima Donna), something denoting her regality. Her mic is likely a stand one fashioned like crystalline ice. Her speakers kind of hard to describe other than like a metallic feminine figure that kind of looks like a warlord, armed to the teeth with swords. Her themes are of betterment of the state of her surroundings, how she’ll change it with her own hands and utmost confidence of herself. Her rap ability I am still working on since while the idea currently works with her actual ability...what it ends up doing runs counter to her personality. It’d be called Dazzle and would basically redirect an opponent’s attack to someone else. However the issue is Kat can’t choose who it goes to. Since there’s not much I can draw from with the ladies of hypmic, I would go with CL for her sound although I found Chanmina while searching and thought this hits me for Kat. But if I had to choose a character, it’d be Ichijiku.

 I actually think her mother might’ve been a good soldier for the Party of Words but then she kinda sorta ended up falling in love with the enemy. Whoops. Except like the Party of Words didn’t know she did (supposedly). And so she left and went to be with Kat’s dad, who was a resistance member but wasn’t able to use a mic. So Kat is like the kid that was like...y’know we could live in peace if we’re not super oppressive. I feel like Petra taught her how to rap as it’s the only viable weapon for Kat so that’s what she uses. 

Crowe’s is a pain because he’s a pain. I don’t have a MC name either maybe Shadow? Too basic? I dunno. His mic either a headset or futuristic kind of shades he wears. I’m sure everyone finds it odd. His speakers look more like cameras and briefcases with like a dicey looking umbrella. It’s huge frickin’ homage to spy stuff y’all. And you’ll figure out the function of them when he turns his speakers on you. Electric volt briefcases, umbrella gun, that kinda stuff. His themes are pretty pessimistic, the secrets of others, the ability to get his hands dirty and what those dirty hands can and can’t do. His rap ability I feel would be based on his gorgon blood so likely named such (Gorgon) or Eyebite and would work where he paralyzes an opponent from taking their turn. Who I draw most for him is actually Jakurai although obviously his voice is no where as deep. 

If there had to be a traitor, it’s probably Crowe. He isn’t particularly happy about it but at the same time, it’s not like he’s brave enough to deal with his overlords. Not when he knows the things they COULD do. Or maybe he’s doing spy stuff on Chuuoku and is in a continuously perilous position but can’t or won’t talk to anyone about it. Basically he still has his paranoia but for a different reason. 

Hmmm Taylor’s giving me a lot of problems because I just can’t pin down a lot for her. I don’t have a name for her nor any idea what she’d go with. Maybe something food based? The only ones coming to mind are Red Velvet and Matcha. Her mic? I think she’d use a hand held mic. Kind of like the ones you do karaoke on in terms of shape. Her speakers? * confused noises * Her themes mmm....I think hers are rather upbeat although not without bite! Her rap ability still eludes me. If I’m thinking of sound, I would put it as something like Calliope although again her words are lighter than hers. 

I feel like Taylor’s family ended up with her parents not surviving the war and thus was left with Rhett to try to keep his siblings from being separated from him. She didn’t view a need to learn how to rap--after all a lot of the population doesn’t seem to--but her mind was changed after being kidnapped for ransom and subjected to the effects of a hypnosis mic. She ended up saved by then then ragtag kids and wanted to learn so that she was never in that position again.

Hooo boy, Emil has that instinctual attention to tone shift going mad. Oh god. I do not have a MC name for him either. I feel Prince would be far too on the nose. So something else. I think he’d have a stand mic, I think his would be like I think it’s a certain kind of ribbon mic? Like this? Makes me think of like old school announcers that fits with his lively personality. I feel like his speakers would be more like ice fragments that feels like they should be falling but don’t. His themes are like half light-hearted and inviting, about having a good time with others. But the other times it’s about masks and charades. He is the kind that has that tone drop and you can tell it’s another ‘presence’ to Emil. One that is vicious and will have you sinking. His rap ability is Frostbite, which would essentially have any battle of his become a race against time. His ability starts sapping the energy of his opponent and of course if they drop...it’s game over for them. His sound when light-hearted is more like Hifumi in like vocal tone but with Ramuda’s flow. Yet I feel like the perfect sound for his is Gentaro’s verse in Stella (Emil, I hope you know you are the biggest pain in terms of style) in terms of like how he sounds in alternating between cutting and light. 

I feel like his mom had stayed in the Chuuoku under the Party of Words but had seen Emil’s dad while outside of the ward. And then she fell pregnant and was in love with Emil when he was born despite him being a son than daughter. And when faced with either handing Emil over to his dad or leaving Chuuoku, she chose the latter. This was her baby. Emil had grown up with both but his mom passed away...his father suspecting it to be Chuuoku’s doing, moved away far from the ward. However Emil grew curious of the hypnosis mic that his mother had used when she was alive and so he ran off near Chuuoku, where he met a...unkind mentor (basically his grandma in normal verse stuff) that did teach him but did affect his candor. 

Cipriana I have also am having some trouble thinking things of. I do not have a MC name but I think it’d be cool if she chose one that’s like...reclaiming and being proud of her ‘runt’ status. Also am not sure about her mic. I think she’d have a handheld one though. As her mic, maybe they’re in the shape of spools with like threads all around and at least one connecting her her mic. Her themes I feel would be a bit like that somber hope? Like it sounds a little sad but it’s ultimately about a better day eventually. Which contrasts to how she is in a battle as I imagine she is very loud in presence since this is more or less a fight and she isn’t getting knocked down again (her mindset of chasing down Lucien absolutely frightens and intrigues me). I just thought of her ability being like By a Thread, where she essentially she cannot be ringed out and can be a little harder to knock out. Her set up kind of makes like a net or wrap around her to keep her from falling (also makes her look like a doll in some aspects, oooh callback). I think of her sound very much like Nemu. 

I do not know how she runs in this story except maybe that she was normal and just simply ended up in the whirlwind of hypnosis mics. Although sitting here now, I’m thinking if Arsenio had a mic and had used it against her--since it’s basically inflicting psychic damage--on her even though she didn’t have one (which is illegal btw). And Vini had it with his shit and used his own and having the same mindset as in her original verse, she actually took one of their mics and used her words against Vinicio, still causing their original rift...just worse. A lot of the same plotting from there maybe? Eventually she meets the rest of the kids.  

Aspis has been rather hit or miss. I am still thinking on his MC name but Yaksha has been in there. I am thinking of his mic to be handheld and I can’t think of anything particular for its design. I think of his speakers looking like demon masks with the speaker part within the mouth. It’s kinda intense looking especially since you know he’s so sweet. Gotta keep his contrasting aesthetic somewhere. His themes are usually about mundane things as well. Musings about those of his past and present. I feel he’s the least biting towards others in battles? Like a lot of battles are attacking something about your opponent or about one’s own ability. I think Aspis would rely less on tearing someone down. Not saying he can’t but I feel like it’s gonna be a bloodbath if he does. His rap ability would be called Katashiro, where he links to another person (usually an opponent) where when he is injured, that damage is shared between him and the opponent. Which coupled with his odd endurance, could drop whoever he linked with before he falls. If I think of his sound, I think of Kuko’s flow but also Ichiro’s lyrical way.

I feel like Aspis gonna have all the crap things of being a war orphan for himself. Pretty self-reliant and not one to take help because he kinda doesn’t know how to. But I think music saves him, I think Daza might be a DJ who even if she didn’t have a mic, she got him understanding of flow and the like. And it was just a comfort for him. She probably helped him obtain a mic. And he was friends and the like with Yukina until she went with the Party of Words. 

Aya’s is like Aspis’ hit or miss in terms of what I can think of. MC names are harrrrdddddd. I feel like her mic I alternate between it being the kind you see a cabaret singer use or a handheld. Maybe one of the first that does both??? I can’t think much in design other than ‘shimmery.’ Not like gaudy but like you watch her move or light hits just right and you see it shine...like her. Her speakers looks more like a theater. With like velvety curtain backdrop and everything. And her attacks look pretty until they hit you. I’m thinking like razor flower petals sort of thing. Her themes...mmm, I feel like overall it’s just ‘pop-y’ and light. It’s nothing like her battling. I feel she just sounds pleasant but then has some serious cutthroat bars. Despite this, I think of her rap ability being Renewal, being able to make others’ attacks stronger and cutting the damage they take. Super supportive skill which she probably took a while to figure out about. I actually found her sound while looking at other stuff. Which I think is Jeon Soyeon easily. 

Also not quite sure where she would be in the story other than I think Meg would’ve procured her a mic for her protection. And I think she cultivated her rapping to have a rap ability. And I feel like Meg was worried about it and wanted Aya away from eyes that would witness it. Because although it has no offensive power for Aya herself (at least not that anyone’s made her come to that point), it is useful for like...a team or ally situation. So useful for the Party of Words and what Meg wants to avoid. But she can’t really stop Aya from doing what she wants with her mic. 

10 YEARS AGO, JANUARY

“Dmitri does not want Proudmoore Guard in house,” said Boris, a tall and beefy man with whom she’d dealt prior. 

“Boris,” she said. “Et’s me — Jo Knuckles,” she said. 

“Is that official name now?” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “No Guard in house.”

Jocelyn sized the man up. He had at least 1 foot and 150 pounds on her, but he wasn’t nearly as quick. “Ya ‘member th’ time I was in th’ ring wit’ Th’ Bear,” she said. 

“Long time, five years now. Why you ask me this?” he asked, at least seemingly interested.

“‘Member ‘ow I beat ‘im?”

The body guard shifted weight. “Yes, I remember. Never forget,” he said, unconsciously covering his crotch. “Bear can make no children now,” he said. 

“Take me ta see Dmitri,” she said, picking her well-used duffle off the ground. “Please.”

Boris weighed the future of possibly having not children vs. a somewhat cranky, yet amenable, boss. He looked her up and down. “Weapons,” he said, extending his hand; Jocelyn dropped her brass knuckles into his palm.

“Tha’s et,” she said. 

“Come in from rain,” he said. “Leave coat and bag here and follow me to library.”

Jocelyn did as she was told. She glanced around at the varnished wood and antiques from a place about which she’d only heard stories. She could hear him listening to music, pure strings and clear voice. She felt not quite as dreadful as she had as of late. She appreciated that almost as much as the music itself. Boris opened the double doors; Dmitri was in a chair, his back to them. “Jo Knuckles to see you.” 

Dmitri froze at the name for a moment. He moved his arm, and what sounded like a heavy safe door closed shut, followed by the spin of a dial. He sat up. “Leave us, Boris.”

The bodyguard shook his head. “I will stand in hallway,” he said, closing the door behind him. 

The crimelord turned his chair to face her slowly. In his hand, he held a pearl-handled pistol. “So,” he said, setting the gun on his hefty wooden desk. “What does Joey Knuckles want with Dmitri? Make arrest?”

Now it was Jocelyn’s turn to shift uncomfortably. “Somethin’ bad ‘appened.”

“Dmitri needs more.”

“Ain’ in the Guard no more,” she said. “Dishonourable. Kilt a man ‘ho pissed me off, an ol’ john ‘ho wan’ed ta tell ... wha’ we di’.” She shook her head. “Wha’ he did ta me.”

“And now Joey Knuckles has no place to go.”

“Yea,” she said. Her lip twitched. “Ain’ go’ no fam’ly, all me ol’ frien’s are in th’ Guard. I cannae even talk ta them now.”

“So. You come to only friend, Dmitri.” He stood and crossed the room. At a long cherry-wood bar, he prepared two double vodkas, neat. He rubbed a lemon rind about the rim of his glass and a lime about hers. He returned to the desk, handing her the vodka. “You work on your back again?”

She shook her head. “Nay, I’m bettah than tha’.”

Dmitri cracked a sliver of a smile. “Just like Dmitri always tell Joey,” he said, punctuating his point with a finger wag. He clinked his glass to hers. “Kúšajte, péjte na zdoróv’je.”

“Spasíbo,” she replied. They drained their glasses. She set hers on his desk.

“Le’ me work fir you, wit’ Boris. Ya ‘elped me once; le’ me ‘elp  ya now.”

He chuckled. “Dmitri knows you want to help both him and you; always liked that about you, Jo.” He sighed. “Dmitri will help. Two conditions.”

She nodded. 

“Joey will not work on her back. You need to get in ring again, one time a month.”

She flinched. She had no desire to brawl, but knew her situation. “I live ‘ere?”

“Sleep in attic. Will make room for you.”

There was no alternative in the short term. “Deal,” she said.

11 YEARS AGO, LATE DECEMBER (TWO WEEKS PRIOR TO LAST EVENT)

“Oi, hey hey!” shouted the drunk from across the cobblestone path. He was sporting myriad tattoos, including some boasting of his time in Tol Dagor. “Hey! Lady!”

Jocelyn, in her full Proudmoore Guard kit, ignored him. 

“Joss, we should help that man,” whispered her partner. He was fresh out of the Academy. He meant well. 

She shook her head and kept walking. 

The drunk picked up a small pebble and tossed it. He hit Jocelyn on the back of the head: not enough to hurt, but enough to annoy. She was turning just as he hurled a cobblestone; it hit her cheek, drawing blood. That one hurt and left a mark.

“Sir,” said her partner in his deep baritone voice, “You have assaulted a member — ”

“Whore!” yelled the drunk. 

“Le’s go, yea?” she said to her partner. 

“Joss, he hit you in the face.”

The drunk undid his belt, folding it in half. “I ain’t forgot how much she likes that,” he said, approaching them slowly. 

“Sir,” said Jocelyn. “If’fn ya donnae back off, we’re gonna ‘ave ya charge ya wit’ menacin’.”

Her partner touched his ear. A voice on the other end told him backup would be there within a minute. 

“We have more coming,” said Jocelyn’s partner. 

The drunk sneered. “Again, just how — ”

“Sir, back away wit’ th’ belt,” shouted Jocelyn. “Se’ et doon. Now.” She grabbed her truncheon. She placed her body at an angle, feet shoulder width apart. Her partner did the same. 

“I always wanted a repeat of our party,” he said, snapping his belt. He kept walking toward them, staring at Jocelyn the entire time.

“Shut yer mouth!” 

“Joss, what’s he talking about?” asked her partner, rattled.

“Look at this boy... probably ain’t even had sex yet, and he gets you as his partner?” The drunk laughed. He swung the buckle-end of the belt at them. “That’s fucking rich.”

“Jo—”

“Sir, I sai’ shut et.” She took an aggressive stance, dropping her center of gravity. She raised her truncheon. “Las’ warnin’.”

“Joss,” whispered her partner. “We’re here to detain, not to injure.”

“She’s just pissed because we tore her up pretty good that night.”

“Enuf!” she shouted even as the echo of their backups’ feet approached. They were running. “On th’ ground!”

She moved quickly toward the gloating thug. She smashed into the side of his face with the truncheon. His belt dropped to the ground. “I said on th’ ground.”

The drunk spat. Blood and teeth fell to the stone. He bellowed as he pushed her against a brick wall. “I can’t wait for Island with you, me, and all th’ boys, you bitch,” he screamed in her face; blood spattered across her cheeks. “And then you’ll be fucking—”

She slammed the truncheon upward against the man’s chin. He howled in pain and fell to the ground. She moved to cuff him. He taunted her again, thrashing about like a small child throwing a tantrum, kicking her in the back. She brought the truncheon down hard on the back of his head. He stopped moving. She dropped it. Her partner restrained her. She was put in cuffs without opposition. The other officers arrived; they’d seen the majority of it.

At her court martial, Jocelyn’s partner did what he could. He told the presiding officers about the incitement, her attempt at deëscalation, the victim’s unwillingness to comply. The circumstances from earlier that month were taken into consideration, too. It was enough to keep her from the gallows. Yet, despite everything, it was the final blow to the back of his head, deemed malicious by the panel, that forced her removal from service. No benefits. No severance. No transitional aid. Just her last two paycheques and a persona non grata edict by the Academy.

11 YEARS AGO, EARLY DECEMBER (THREE WEEKS PRIOR TO LAST EVENT)

Jocelyn fell into her lover’s arms. She was shaking. She’d just had her baby cut from her belly. “Jus’ ... jus’ tell me ya still ... care,” she implored. Her life had seemed like it was coming together, like a new self was about to blossom. Six months prior, she’d finished her compulsory military service sentence and been admitted into the Proudmoore Guard. Yet, despite the professional and personal success, the pregnancy had been tough from the start. The healers had told her that because of past trauma, she would be unlikely to carry to term. Even still, she believed. When the fifth month came and she no longer felt movement, she knew she was in trouble. In the sixth month, the surgical extraction only confirmed their fears. The fetus had been dead for weeks. She had never felt so cold, so empty.

He was in as much shock as she. “I... I do,” he said shakily. He looked down at the baby, completely wrapped in a thick blanket. “Of course... I do.” He couldn’t even see its face. To him, it appeared to be nothing more than a crumpled blanket. 

“I care, too,” she said, still weak from the surgery and anesthesia. “Only for you.” She squeezed her lover’s hand and closed her eyes, confident he would be there when she awoke.

That was the last time she saw him.

( special thanks to @kat-hawke for the loose character outline )

J/H 3-21: The Trials of Michael Kelso

In doing this project, I haven't touched the "A" stories of any episodes since "Ice Shack." That's a consequence of trying to stick to things that could plausibly have happened on the show; even continuing through Season 3, Zen needs to be in proportion to what its role would've been in the overall story. (It's also a consequence of the "A" stories in the last few episodes not having much, if any, overlap with the "B" stories and runners.)

Well, in this case, there's a whole new "A" story for "The Trials of Michael Kelso," and what was its "A" story is a significantly altered "B." Jackie and Hyde don't have a single scene together here (just as in the actual episode), but I promise there's payoff to this. And there's also ripple effects spreading into Season 4, because a certain off-screen development there made for the new "A" plot here...

FF.Net AO3

---

SHOW TITLE   INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT   The Hyde residence, as trashed as ever. BUD sits on the couch, watching TV. The door swings open and HYDE enters.   BUD: Hey, there he is!   HYDE: Bud, man, you’re not working tonight?   BUD: Well, the bookie knows to look for me down at the bar, but he doesn’t know where I live.   He laughs. Hyde tosses his keys onto the counter and sits on the other end of the couch.   HYDE: You in trouble, Bud?   BUD: Oh, no, no no. (beat) I mean, most of those guys, when they say “I’ll beat your face in,” that just means “you’ve got another two weeks,” you know?   HYDE: I mean, if you need another loan...   Bud looks up, expecting. Hyde pulls out a few bills and passes them over. Bud counts them and pockets them.   BUD: Atta boy. Hey, why don’t we go and hit up the nudie bar?   He gives Hyde a friendly jab to the arm, and Hyde nods and cackles.   HYDE: Now you’re talkin’.   Bud laughs and pats Hyde’s knee. A knock comes to the door, and Bud pushes himself up.   BUD: Hope you’ve got some singles left. You never know who you’re gonna meet there.   Chuckling, he opens the door. There stands EDNA HYDE, cigarette in one hand and a suitcase in the other.   BUD: Edna?   Hyde jumps to his feet.   HYDE: Mom?   They all stare, no love lost among any of them.

MAIN CREDITS   BUMPER   INT. APARTMENT – NIGHT   Moments later. Bud looks back and forth from his son to his ex-wife. Finally, he chuckles weakly and beckons Edna inside.   BUD: Hey – Edna! Wow, you look so... older.   She rolls her eyes. Hyde fumes behind them as Bud gamely tries to stay chipper.   BUD (cont’d): God, how long’s it been, the three of us all together? Was it that trip out to Milwaukee? You know, the one where they pulled us over on the way back after I hit that deer?   Edna glares, shoves Bud back by the chest as she strolls into the apartment.   EDNA: No, Bud, it was after the trip to Green Bay where you lost your lunch and your beer all over Phil Bengston’s head. Milwaukee was where you met Jo-Jo the wonder ass.   She sits down on the couch. Hyde moves as far away from her as he can without leaving the room, but doesn’t escape her notice.   EDNA (cont’d): (to Bud) I see you picked up our son. (to Hyde) Steven.   HYDE: Edna.   Edna looks him over.   EDNA: You seem like you’ve held up. I knew you’d be fine.   HYDE: Yeah. That really makes up for you taking off with Truck Stop Terry, huh?   Edna scowls at him. Bud clears his throat, laughs weakly, and takes his place back on the couch.   BUD: So, Edna – what brings you back to town? Should we, ah, set a plate out for Truck Stop Terry too?   He looks around for support for the wisecrack but gets none.   EDNA: (to Bud) Truck Stop Terry is halfway to Nebraska with a hooker named Billie and everything I had marked for the pawn shop. I’ve got no cash left and didn’t have any place else to go.   HYDE: Sucks, doesn’t it?   EDNA: Still a smart ass, I see.   HYDE: There’s the attitude that won you “Mother of the Year” seventeen years running.   EDNA: Hey, you’re lucky I stuck around as long as I did in a little dump town like this. I lasted longer than this one.   She points roughly to Bud, who looks anywhere but at the two people in the room with him.   EDNA (cont’d): Anyway, I’m back, aren’t I?   HYDE: Don’t give me that crap. You just said you had nowhere else to go, else you wouldn’t be here now.   BUD: Steven –   HYDE: (to Bud) No, screw this, and screw her! I’ll be at the bar, Dad.   He leaves quickly, slamming the door after him. Edna and Bud shift around on the couch.   EDNA: Like father, like son, huh?   BUD: He’s a good egg, Edna. Hell, he’s keeping me afloat here.   Edna looks up, a searching look in her eye.   EDNA: Yeah?   BUD: Yeah. I’m drowning down at the track. You must’ve done something right with him.   EDNA: Eh. The twitchy kid’s folks had more of him than I did.   She takes a long drag on her cigarette.   BUD: Come on, Ed.   EDNA: (sighs) Well... that fake I.D. he’ll be using at that bar? Who do you think taught him how to get one of those?   Bud gives her a congratulatory gesture as she shrugs and smokes.   CUT TO:   INT. PINCIOTTI LIVING ROOM - NIGHT   That same night. DONNA, JACKIE, and KELSO all sit on the couch. Jackie and Kelso’s homework is spread out over the coffee table, while Donna holds a notebook and pencil in her hands.   DONNA: (to Jackie) So if “x” equals 7, then “y” equals...   JACKIE: 2?   DONNA: Wrong. Kelso?   KELSO: Uh... L?   DONNA: (beat) Also wrong. It’s a pretty simple equation, guys. Just think about it for a second.   Jackie’s face scrunches up in thought. Kelso stares at her, grinning, and gives her a light nudge with his shoulder.   KELSO: You’re so pretty. You don’t even need to know math.   Jackie turns to him, beaming.   JACKIE: That’s so weird. I was just thinking the same thing!   They giggle together. Donna lets out a long sigh.   DONNA: Okay, I think “girls’ study night” needs to go down to just girls.   Jackie pouts at Donna, but Kelso starts gathering his things.   KELSO: Yeah, I’d better get going. (to Jackie) We’re still on for the Hub tomorrow?   JACKIE: Uh-huh.   KELSO: Awesome. See ya then.   He exits.   Donna moves down the couch closer to Jackie.   DONNA: Great. Now maybe we can get some work done.   Not likely; Jackie’s still looking after Kelso’s wake.   JACKIE: Michael’s so sweet. Now that we’ve been spending time together as friends, he’s like a completely different person. He’s changed so much since we broke up.   She sighs. Donna tries to hide her skeptical expression.   JACKIE (cont’d): When I look into his eyes, I can see the maturity and honesty there now. He really has grown up.   Donna’s expression turns disgusted, and turning her head doesn’t hide it anymore. Jackie scowls at Donna.   JACKIE (cont’d): What, you think I’m wrong?   DONNA: Gee, Jackie, let me think. Uh, YEAH! I mean, this is Kelso you’re talking about. Of all the times he’s said he’s learned something and grown up, when has he ever actually learned anything and grown up? And if you’re thinking about getting back together with him -   JACKIE: No, no, no, Donna, I don’t want to get back together with him. (beat) But if I ever did, it’s good to know that he’s ready for a healthy, adult relationship.   DONNA: (looks up) Oh, God, kill me now.   JACKIE: Fine. You don’t believe me? I’ll prove it. I’ll come up with some simple psychological tests that’ll show Michael’s matured.   DONNA: You know, Jackie, that’s a good idea.   JACKIE: It is?   DONNA: Absolutely. If you’re even considering getting back with Kelso, you better have him tested.   BOB and MIDGE enter, carrying two large grocery bags each.   BOB: Hi there, kids.   DONNA: Hey, Dad.   BOB: Listen, sweetie, do your mom and me a favor. This Thursday, would you mind spending the night over at Jackie’s? We’re having a little party here.   DONNA: Well, Dad, I don’t mind. I’ll just stay up in my room.   BOB: Honey, I really think you oughta be out of the house for this one. See, this party is... well, it’s... we’re all gonna be...   MIDGE: It’s a nudist party.   Donna and Jackie both shudder, and Jackie screams. They gather their things and race out of the room. Bob and Midge look after them, then to each other. They shrug and head into the kitchen.   BUMPER   INT. HUB - DAY   The next day, early afternoon. Almost empty. “Breaking Up is Hard to Do” by Neil Sedaka plays on the jukebox.   Jackie and Kelso occupy the wall table, Jackie in the booth seat and Kelso across from her. Jackie’s notebooks and Kelso’s food are spread over the table. Donna and FEZ share a small round table. Fez sits backwards in his chair and plays with the straw of his soda.   FEZ:  So in a nudist party, everyone is nude, yes?   DONNA:  Yeah, Fez.   FEZ: And that includes all the womens?   DONNA: Yeah... and all the men, too.   FEZ: But also all the womens.   He gets a dirty little smile. Donna puts a palm to his face and shoves, sending him flying back from his seat onto the ground.   Jackie looks up over her notes at Kelso, who’s using one of his fries to draw shapes in the blob of ketchup in his basket. Jackie clears her throat.   JACKIE: So, Michael, this assignment I’m working on is about what careers we might want after graduating, and -   KELSO: Oh, I remember that one. I did pretty well on it, too. See, I had two choices. I was considering becoming a doctor...   JACKIE: Ooh, a doctor! That’s so mature.   She looks over Kelso’s shoulder at Donna, who’s watching the scene with a slightly mocking smile. Fez crawls back into his seat.   KELSO: Yeah. Or a rodeo clown. ‘Cause then I’d get to wear a big clown nose and ride around in barrels. Yeah, I think I gotta go with rodeo clown.   Jackie looks dumbstruck as she makes a note in her notebook. Donna puts a hand over her face to hide her laughter.   JACKIE: (beat) Okay... enough about that. So Michael, there are two events occurring this weekend. One that you might like, and one that I would really, really, really, really, really want to go to. Now, should we go see the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders -   KELSO: Oh, pfft! Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders.   JACKIE: Yes, or -   KELSO:  No, Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders.   JACKIE: But Michael, I want -   KELSO: No, Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders!   A crestfallen Jackie makes another mark in her notebook. Donna, barely holding it together, stands and staggers into the bathroom.   Fez moves from his chair to an empty one by Kelso.   FEZ: So what does one do to get invited to a nudist party?   Jackie covers her face with one hand as Kelso looks off in thought.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – EVENING   Later that day. THE CIRCLE. Kelso is juggling a single egg.   KELSO: Hey, guys. Check out this egg Jackie gave me to take care of. It’s great for rodeo clown practice. Later I’m gonna find somebody to chuck it at.   Pan to Hyde.   HYDE: Hey, man, I volunteer Edna. An egg to the head is just the sort of “welcome home” greeting you deserve when you roll back into town after riding a trucker around the greater Midwest area.   Pan to ERIC.   ERIC: (to Hyde) Edna? Wait, Hyde – your mom’s back? That’s great, man! I mean – it is great, isn’t it? Because that’s the sort of thing that usually is great, but – I mean... with how your mom left... and not to mention she’s, you know...   He makes a gross face.   Pan to Fez.   FEZ: (to Hyde) Hyde, do you think your parents will be on the guest list for the Pinciotti’s nudist party? Because that is some naked I would like to avoid.   Pan to Kelso, still juggling.   KELSO: Yeah, Bob and Midge are going all out for that one. I was over there with Jackie and saw ‘em settin’ up a keg, and makin’ cheese puffs, and little mini hot dogs, and hard-boiled...   He trails off, catches the egg, and laughs as he stares at it.   Pan to Hyde.   HYDE: (to Eric) Look, Forman. I know how “after-school special” you get over these things, but this is no big deal, all right? So I don’t want you running to get Red or your mom to check up on me, ‘cause me and Bud – we’re okay now, and we can handle... (to Kelso) They have cheese puffs?   Pan to Eric.   ERIC: (to Hyde) Okay, Hyde. If you say so. But I want you to know... damn, now I want cheese puffs! (beat) Hey – maybe my mom made some for dinner!   He and Hyde bolt to the stairs.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – EVENING   RED and KITTY are in the middle of their meals, but Eric and Hyde are way past that. Their plates empty, they’ve split an entire loaf of bread between them and eat it by the slice. Eric shovels his slices in plain, while Hyde uses the bread to soak up leftover sauce and juices from his plate.   Red does his best to ignore their behavior, but Kitty keeps stealing glances at Hyde.   KITTY: (to Hyde) Steven, this is two nights in a row we’ve had you over for dinner. Is everything alright at home?   His mouth too full to talk, Hyde nods vigorously and reaches for a tall glass of milk.   HYDE: (gulps down milk) Oh yeah, Mrs. Forman, everything’s fine.   He starts in on another bread slice. Kitty looks from him to Eric and laughs.   KITTY: Okay, then. I have a custard pudding for dessert if anyone wants -   Eric and Hyde, both eating, nod and beckon for the pudding without looking up. Kitty retrieves the large pudding bowl from the island, and no sooner sets it on the table than the boys start spooning it onto their plates. Eric is the first to take a bite.   ERIC: (loudly) Oh, God, this is great! (to Hyde) Man, remember the custard your mom used to make at school? That was horrible! God! I hope she’s learned to cook while she was gone.   HYDE: Shut up, Forman!   Too late; Red and Kitty both turn toward Hyde.   KITTY: Your mother’s back?   Eric slams a hand down on the table, drawing his parents’ attention.   ERIC: (loudly) Did I say that? I didn’t say that! Why did I say that? Oh, God, listen to my voice! I’m so loud!   Red and Kitty consider their son for a moment, then turn back to Hyde.   RED: Steven?   HYDE: Yeah, so? She’s back.   KITTY: Well, now, that’s... that is such good news! (laughs) ... Isn’t it?   ERIC: (loudly) That’s what I said! That is just what I said! Is it good or not? Why am I still talking like this?   RED: (to Eric) Hey – stop acting weird. (to Hyde) So, Edna’s back, eh? Well, that sure is... surprising.   KITTY: Yeah. How’s your father taking that?   HYDE: Fine. They sit and shout, just like old times.   Hyde’s gone from eating bread slices to tearing them up. He refuses to meet Kitty’s eye.   KITTY: Oh. (laughs) And how about – how about you, Steven? Are you all right? Because you don’t look all right.   RED: Kitty...   KITTY: Well, Red, the woman just up and left him and then comes traipsing back into town. I think he has some feelings he needs to let out -   HYDE: I’m fine!   He kicks himself back from the table and hurries out the patio door.   Eric stands and reaches out a hand.   ERIC: (loudly) Hyde – come back! We never even asked about the cheese puffs!   When Hyde doesn’t return, Eric collapses back down into his seat and covers his face with his hands, while Red and Kitty share a look.   FADE TO BLACK   COMMERCIAL   BUMPER   INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT   Later that night. Bud and Edna are still on the couch. Beer cans and liquor bottles surround them. Edna has a fresh cigarette and Bud has a cigar. Each has, in their other hand, a large glass filled with whiskey. They laugh uproariously as they clink glasses and take a drink.   Their cavorting keeps them from seeing Hyde enter. He takes in the sight, unsure what to make of it, until Bud finally spies him.   BUD: Steven!   He raises his glass in salute.   HYDE: Bud, you’re drinking?   BUD: (shrugs) What can I say, son? Something about your mother’s always driven me to the bottle.   He cracks up, and so does Edna. They clink glasses again and take another drink.   EDNA: Oh, this is fun! I’d forgotten the good times like this. (to Hyde) Steven, honey, you were probably too young to remember, but there was this one Christmas where the snow was falling and the heat was paid and we’d lifted one of those pre-decorated trees from the store, and we just spent the whole night laughing and shootin’ shots of peppermint Schnapps.   She winks at Bud, who grins and falls into a bobbing nod with his head.   HYDE: Actually, I do remember that Christmas. You locked up and passed out before I got back from Forman’s. I spent the night outside.   EDNA: (beat) Oh. Well, you still have all your toes, right? So it all worked out.   Her glass is empty. She refills it while Bud leans way back into the couch.   BUD: Steven, I’ve got good news – your mom’s moving in.   HYDE: What?   BUD: Yeah. Isn’t it great?   HYDE: No!   He crosses behind the couch and looms over his parents.   HYDE (cont’d): God, how do you do this – both of you? You screw me, you screw each other, you both ditch everything, and then you both roll back into town and in two days you just decide you’re back together? What the hell is wrong with you, man?   BUD: (shrugs) We’re Hydes!   He and Edna crack up again. Edna pats on the stool by the couch; very reluctantly, Hyde sits.   EDNA: Steven, this is just the way life is. So we all screwed each other over, boo-hoo. And we all thought we’d take off and find something better, but we didn’t.   HYDE: Speak for yourself, Edna.   EDNA: Oh, yeah? So why’re you here instead of hiding out in that spindly kid’s basement?   Hyde looks at her. She nods slowly.   EDNA (cont’d): Yeah, Bud filled me in on all that. You’re gonna tell me a hard ass like Red Forman wasn’t one slip-up away from tossing you out?   BUD: Hell – the few times I’ve been by, I’m surprised he didn’t throw me out. He is one angry, scary, shiny-headed S.O.B.   Hyde stares at the ground, his left hand holding his right fist.   EDNA: My point is, Steven, we’re all back with each other now, and people like us... we get what we get. Sitting around going over all the bad times – well, that’s not gonna do any good. This is where we’re stuck, and we’ve gotta make things work.   BUD: (to Hyde) It’s all I’ve been trying to do. And Ed moving in, that’s settled. Now, if you’ll spot me a few more bucks, your mother and I have a lot of things to take care of tomorrow.   Hyde’s head bows lower. He can’t find a retort. Edna grabs a liquor bottle and presses it into his hands.   EDNA: Now come on, baby. Why don’t you buck up and have a drink with your mom and dad?   Slowly, somewhat reluctantly, Hyde sits up and takes the bottle, gives it a sniff.   HYDE: This Beam’s Choice?   His parents nod. Hyde clinks the bottle against their raised glasses, and they all drink.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - DAY   The next day, just after school. Kelso is still juggling Jackie’s egg. Fez and Donna sit on the couch, watching him. Donna shakes her head and tries not to laugh. Kelso notices and turns to present more of the show to her.   KELSO: Man, I am gonna be such a good rodeo clown.   Donna claps a hand over her mouth. Fez looks from her to Kelso, confused.   FEZ: I don’t get it. He’s not even really juggling. He only has one egg.   Kelso catches the egg.   KELSO: Oh, yeah? Well, we’ll see about that, Fez.   He heads up the stairs. Donna leans on the armrest of the couch.   DONNA: He is such a moron. He is so gonna fail Jackie’s test.   FEZ: Test? What test?   DONNA: Well, I’m not supposed to say anything, but Jackie’s testing Kelso to see if he’s really grown into a more mature, honest guy.   Fez gives Donna a long look, then breaks into laughter. Donna joins him, and they end up leaning against each other.   FEZ: That can’t be going well, can it?   DONNA: Duh! He’s already failed two tests, and the second that egg breaks, he fails the third. Jackie wants to see if he’s responsible now, so she told him she needed him to look after it for a few days.   Kelso bounds back down the stairs, his arms filled with eggs.   KELSO: Okay, Fez. How do you like – this?   He starts tossing the eggs into the air one by one. He manages maybe one-and-a-half rounds before they start to get away from him. The eggs land on the floor by his feet, they fly across the room – some even land on his arms and shoulders. When he tries to retreat, he slips on egg yolk and barely avoids crashing back into the TV, instead falling into the lawn chair.   KELSO (cont’d): Dammit! That’s it – I’m sticking with barrel riding.   FEZ: (to Donna) Well, that’s another “F” on the tests of love, am I right?   Donna tries to shush him, but it’s too late; Kelso heard.   KELSO: What do you mean?   Over Donna’s objections, Fez goes on:   FEZ: Just that when you broke those eggs you broke Jackie’s egg, and you failed the third test she has put to you to see if you have matured.   Donna puts a hand to her forehead. Very slowly, Kelso stands back up.   KELSO: Wait... so Jackie – the girl I love more than anything in the world – she’s been testing me? Why? Is she seeing if we should get back together?   DONNA: I’m not sure, but if she wants to, this is what she’s basing it on.   KELSO: So by breaking that egg, I failed the test? And all the others so far, I failed those too, and I lost my chance to win Jackie back forever?   Donna and Fez both nod.   KELSO: (beat) Okay, so when’s the make-up test?   Donna completely buries her head in her hands as Fez gives a slow and condescending shake of his head.   CUT TO:   INT. PINCIOTTI LIVING ROOM - DAY   Almost everything is in place for the party. A table is set up near the wall for food and punch, the furniture has been pushed to the sides to leave space open for dancing, and the keg is set up. But it hasn’t started yet – Bob and Midge still have their clothes on.   MIDGE: I think that’s everything, Bob.   BOB: Not quite, Midgie. Time to seal the place up good. Ready?   They nod together. Cut to:   MONTAGE, set to the theme from MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE. Bob and Midge go through every room in their house, sealing up doors and windows. Blinds are drawn, curtains are pulled, tacky photos of Bob in an Elvis costume are hung on the little window in the front door, and Midge covers up the bathroom mirror with a towel before Bob comes in and moves the towel to cover the window.   The montage ends with quick cuts showing all the sealed spaces in the house, ending with one left unattended: a small corner of the living room window, where the blinds haven’t properly shut. Fez’s head looms there, grinning and nodding in delight.   CUT TO:   EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY – DAY   Hyde shoots hoops alone. He looks like hell. Red and Eric, dressed for work at Price Mart, come outside from the kitchen.   RED: Steven. There you are.   HYDE: Oh, hey, Red. Forman.   RED: Eric tells me you missed school today.   ERIC: Um, Dad, I thought we weren’t gonna mention that part.   RED: (to Eric) Look, your mother’s making me do this, and if it goes to Hell, I’m taking someone down with me.   HYDE: No, Red, it’s okay. Edna’s moving in, so I took the day to, you know, get the place cleared up a bit. And sleep off the “welcome home” party we had last night.   He cackles. Red isn’t amused.   RED: Your mom and dad couldn’t “clear up?” Or were they “sleeping it off” – up their ass?   HYDE: Nah, man. They’ve been out all day. Had some things to pick up – another bed, a dresser, chairs -   ERIC: Wait, I thought your dad was almost broke. How can they afford that? Unless... I mean, your mom’s always given it away for free, but I guess when you’re on the road, desperate times...   Red glares at him.   RED: Can it.   ERIC: Yes, sir.   RED: (to Hyde) Well?   Hyde shifts on his feet, not meeting either Forman’s eyes.   RED (cont’d): Is your dad hitting you up for money again?   HYDE: (short, tense) It’s fine. I’m fine. We worked things out, and it’s gonna be okay. (beat) They’re my folks. You get what you get, you know?   ERIC: What – no! Hyde, that’s not how it works. They can’t do that to you. (to Red) Dad, say something.   Red holds up a hand to quiet Eric and gives Hyde a hard look.   RED: Look, Steven, I know what you’re hoping for. But your parents... the thing is, son -   HYDE: Hey, I’m not your son! I was only even here so long as I toed the line, right? One strike and I’m out, right Red?   Red’s face hardens. Seeing his dad’s expression, Eric inches back away from him.   HYDE (cont’d): Will you just butt out? You too, Forman! All of you!   He throws the basketball into the garage and storms off. The hedges and trees begin to rustle in a growing wind. Eric shivers, and even Red seems cold.   ERIC: Dad?   RED: Yeah?   ERIC: I thought Hell would be warmer.   Red looks up at the sky.   RED: Damn spring snows.   They head inside, Eric hugging himself tightly, as snowflakes start to fall.   BUMPER   INT. HUB - DAY   A busier afternoon. The snow outside is falling heavily now. “Crazy on You” by Heart plays on the jukebox. Jackie is back at the wall table, sharing the booth seat with Donna as they study.   Kelso enters, bundled up for the weather. In his hands is an egg stuffed into a scarf stuffed into a tissue box. Slowly, with great care, he walks over to the girls and gingerly sets the box down before sitting down across from them.   KELSO: Hey, guys.   Jackie and Donna look from each other to the egg.   JACKIE: (to Kelso) What’s that?   KELSO: Oh, it’s just this little crib-like thing I made for Eggy.   DONNA: “Eggy?”   KELSO: Yeah. And I couldn’t leave him exposed in all this cold, ‘cause that would be immature and irresponsible.   He makes a big show of nodding. Donna puts a hand to her forehead. Jackie picks up the egg and checks the bottom.   JACKIE: Michael, what happened to the pencil mark I made on the bottom?   Kelso takes the egg from her and checks the bottom. He looks to Donna, who just sighs and shakes her head.   KELSO: (to Jackie) Oh. Must have come off when I was giving him his gentle bath.   Donna rolls her eyes; she can’t believe what she’s hearing. Jackie puts a hand to her heart.   JACKIE: Michael, I knew you had this in you. After all this time, you really have become mature, responsible, and honest.   KELSO: Yeah – that’s me! Mr. Mature, Responsible, Honest Guy!   He grins and nods like a doofus. Jackie smiles back at him. Donna shakes her head.   The grin slowly slips off Kelso’s face. He glances down at the egg and sets it back in its “crib.”   KELSO (cont’d): Actually, Jackie – I found out about the tests. And I broke the egg you gave me and tried to cover it up, which wasn’t very honest or mature. So maybe, whatever the tests were for, I don’t deserve it.   He pushes the egg toward Jackie and gets up.   KELSO (cont’d): I’m sorry. See ya.   He leaves. Donna and Jackie stare after him, mouths agape.   DONNA: Oh, my God. He owned up. Before it all blew up in his face.   JACKIE: Yes, he did. (beat) Which is the honest, mature thing to do. So he has changed!   She beams and scribbles down some notes.   DONNA: And you were right. So if Kelso learned something, and you were right about something... and if it’s snowing this late in spring... I think those are three signs of the end of the world.   She stares into space, in shock, as Jackie swats her on the shoulder.   BUMPER   INT. HALL - EVENING   The hallway of Bud’s apartment complex. It doesn’t look much better than the room. Hyde walks up to his door, a small, wrapped parcel tucked under one arm. He tries his key on the door, but it doesn’t unlock.   The LANDLORD, a greasy-looking old man, appears at the other end of the hall. He has Hyde’s knapsack in his hands.   LANDLORD: They’re gone, kid.   He heads up the hall to meet Hyde.   HYDE: What do you mean?   LANDLORD: Gone, left, split. Came in from the dog tracks a few hours ago with a huge wad of dough and a big bottle of hooch and cleared out.   He pushes the sack into Hyde’s free arm.   LANDLORD (cont’d): They left this. Said to give it to you.   HYDE: (beat) Did they say where they were going?   LANDLORD: (shakes head) Sorry.   Hyde just stares down at the sack in his hand. The landlord starts back down the hall, then steps back and puts a hand on Hyde’s shoulder.   LANDLORD (cont’d): Look, kid. I hate to drop bad news on ya like this...   He takes a slip of paper from his pocket.   LANDLORD (cont’d): But on their way out, your folks didn’t settle their damages.   He holds the bill out to Hyde, who finally looks up.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - NIGHT   Eric lies on the couch and reads a magazine, his Price Mart smock open. Instrumental rock plays softly on the radio.   The basement door opens, and Hyde steps in, covered in snow. His sack is slung over his shoulder and the wrapped parcel is still under his arm. Eric sits up, and the two of them regard one another for a moment.   ERIC: Hey.   HYDE: Hey. (beat) Uh, Forman, are Red and Kitty home?   ERIC: They turned in for the night. Do you need something?   Hyde crosses to the other side of the couch and sits down. He throws his sack into his chair and sets the parcel on the coffee table.   HYDE: Nah, man. Just – you know, turns out Edna left some things behind, so her and my dad, they went to pick ‘em up, and I thought... you know, just for a few days, if the basement’s free...   ERIC: Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course.   Hyde nods. He looks down at the parcel, and Eric follows his eyeline.   ERIC: (nods to parcel) Whatcha got there?   HYDE: Oh, it’s nothing. Just now that Bud and Edna n’ me, we’re all back together so I thought, you know, I’d get something for the apartment.   ERIC: Oh... well, that’s nice. That’s really nice.   He scratches at the back of his head, running short on words.   Hyde slams a fist down hard on the parcel. It makes an awful shattering noise. For good measure, he throws it at the wall, just above the TV.   Hyde sinks back into his seat and stares straight ahead, his breathing heavy. Eric, bug-eyed, looks slowly from the shattered parcel to Hyde.   ERIC: (voice breaking) Well... hey! Now it’ll match your dad’s décor!   He giggles nervously. Hyde just keeps staring at nothing. “Behind Blue Eyes” by the Who comes over the radio.   ERIC (cont’d): (beat) You know, Hyde... “a few days...” weeks... months... when you live in a little town like this, they all just sort of roll together.   Hyde’s head won’t turn, or his breath steady. Eric pats Hyde on the shoulder and moves to get up. Hyde’s hand catches his arm. Still looking ahead, Hyde’s face is a stone about to crack.   Eric sits back down, and he and Hyde adjust their arms to be around each other’s shoulders. They both stare at the wall as the radio keeps playing.   FADE TO BLACK   CREDITS   INT. PINCIOTTI LIVING ROOM - NIGHT   The party. Riotous samba music plays. We see nothing except the living room window, with shadows occasionally passing by the blinds. A slow pan takes us to Fez, watching from the one gap in the blinds in ecstasy.   BOB (v.o.): Okay, everybody – limbo!   A cheer erupts from the party guests. The shadows move, suggesting a limbo. Fez’s eyes go wide, and he falls back in a faint.   END.

Cop Car [Jax Teller]

Chapter One

Ratings: SFW

Warnings: No majors for now, some mild cursing.

Summary: Opie’s twin sister happily comes back to Charming in order to help him and Donna out once he’s released from prison. Even though her relationship with Opie has always been tight, her relationship with Piney and her mother is as strained as always. So between wanting to find her place again in Charming and patching up her family ties a little bit of love gets tossed her way by the one and only Jax Teller.

——

After what feels like an eternity later, [Y/N] finally disembarks from the plane and slowly makes her way into the terminal and over to the baggage carousel. Her [e/c] eyes watch as each piece of baggage slowly winds its way down and around the baggage claim area until her very identifiable bag miraculously appears on the conveyor belt. As her luggage inches closer and closer [Y/N] gently elbows her way into the crowd that’s gathered and the moment it gets within reach she grabs it and hauls ass as far away as possible. The closer she gets to the exit of the airport a familiar face comes into view and she’s forced to stop short and examine him and the piece of cardboard he’s holding with her last name on it.

“Juice?” [Y/N] mutters to herself as he finally notices that she’s standing a few feet away from him. Unsure if she’s seen him or not, Juice throws his arm up in the air and begins to wave it around wildly in hopes of catching her attention. In order to keep from drawing too much attention from the crowds around them she cautiously waves back at him before walking over to where he’s standing.

“Here let me take that for you.” Juice states as he pries her luggage from her hands, “Opie wanted to be here to pick you up, but you know, club business and all.”

“Wait, he’s back working with the club? Thanks by the way.” [Y/N] replies as she’s lead from the airport to a nearby parking lot where Juice helps her into an older model sedan that’s from the shop. She watches as Juice closes the trunk and climbs into the driver's seat waiting desperately for him to answer her previous question.

“Yeah, he uh, he didn’t tell you?” Juice questions as he puts the key in the ignition and starts the car, he glances over at her before putting the car in reverse, “I guess not by the look that’s on your face.”

“Your assumption would be correct.” [Y/N] replies as Juice backs the car out of the parking spot and puts it in drive. The start of the drive is in silence, but as they ease onto the interstate [Y/N] leans forward and turns on the radio to hopefully break some of the tension that’s settled between the two of them. By the time Juice comes to a stop at one of the few stop signs in Charming, [Y/N] is in a much happier mood which entices her to at least apologize for being so uptight.

For a couple of seconds she fiddles with the zipper on her jacket while trying to form the correct words, but they eventually just slip out, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rude Juice. Opie and I usually talk about everything, but things have been a little rocky here lately and it took me this long just to get him to agree to have me come out.”

Juice flips the blinker on and pulls into the parking lot of Teller-Morrow garage, “It’s all good, I never thought you were being rude. I just assumed and you know what they say about making assumptions.”

[Y/N] snorts while shooting him a friendly smile, “Like the haircut by the way, suits you. Plus it’s always nice to see your ink.” A hint of red settles into the tips of his ears and he averts his gaze as the compliment finally registers with him. Juice pulls the car into an empty parking spot and shuts it off, before [Y/N] can even get her seatbelt off the passenger side door is yanked open and she’s engulfed in a very uncomfortable bear hug.

“Thank god you’re finally here!” Gemma squeals as she pulls herself away to look [Y/N] in the face, “I have been counting down the days and wanted to go pick you up myself.”

“It’s good to see you to Ma.” [Y/N] replies with a soft chuckle before pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek. Gemma smiles and steps back away from the car in order for [Y/N] to climb out and stretch her legs and back. She glances over the roof of the car to where a row of motorcycles are parked close to the clubhouse hoping to find Opies parked there but alas it and a couple of others are missing from the lineup.

“He’ll be back shortly, Jax has him and Tiggy running a couple of errands.” Gemma states once she realizes what [Y/N] is staring at.

“Dad?” [Y/N] questions as Juice pops the trunk so that she can retrieve her luggage.

“Still kicking,” Gemma replies with a chuckle, “he’s around here somewhere, I’m not really sure if Opie told Piney that you were coming home to help out.”

“Most likely not, but either way it’ll be a grand ole surprise.” she replies while slamming the trunk lid shut before turning to Juice, “how shall I tip you good sir?”

Juice thinks on it for a few seconds while fiddling with the car keys before replying, “A thrilling round of mini golf?”

“Deal.” [Y/N] replies with a smile before the three of them start to walk towards the clubhouse.

“I’ve got you set up in one of the cleaner apartments in the back, I hope that’s okay.” Gemma states as she opens the door for [Y/N] and Juice. [Y/N] nods in response as she walks past Gemma and into the air conditioned clubhouse half expecting to see most of the guys passed out with a crow eater hanging off of them or passed out next to them.

Instead she finds the place cleaned from top to bottom and several of the guys sitting around a table playing what appears to be a very thrilling game of poker. The sound of the door closing behind Juice catches the group's attention and they stop what they’re doing and look over at the three of them.

“Holy shit.” Jax mumbles as he pushes himself away from the table he’s sitting at as a huge grin breaks out across his face.

“Jax-fucking-Teller, come over here and give me a hug!” [Y/N] exclaims loudly which gets Jax moving so fast that he knocks over his chair as he sprints around the table. She doesn’t wait for Jax to get to her she drops her bag and meets him halfway, she wraps him in her arms and he does the same but he also lifts her up and spins her around.

“Opie could have at least given me a heads up!” Jax states as he sets her back down on the ground.

“Did he really not tell anyone except Gemma?” [Y/N] questions as she pulls away from Jax to look at him and then at the rest of the guys who are now making their way over to where they’re standing. Each of the guys shake their heads no which surprises [Y/N], but seems like something Opie would do just for kicks. As she pulls away from Jax each of the guys take turns wrapping her in a bear hug before returning her to Jax’s waiting arms.

“What’s all the hub-bub about?” Piney asks as he slowly emerges from the depths of the clubhouse. The group parts so that Piney can clearly see [Y/N] standing there amongst everyone, from where she’s standing she can see a range of emotions pass over his face with the final one settling on confusion.

It takes her a moment but [Y/N] finally breaks the silence, “Hey daddy.”

“Hey sweetheart, w-what are you doing here?” Piney questions as he crosses the floor so that he’s standing a little bit closer, “did your mom call you out here?”

“No, I came to help Opie out, but the main reason I came is to see everyone.” [Y/N] replies just as a cell phone starts ringing signaling the end of the welcome party. She looks around to see Jax pull out a burner phone and answer it before excusing himself from the group for a little more privacy. The rest of the group also bid their farewells and followed Jax out of the clubhouse leaving [Y/N] with Piney and Gemma.

“It’s so good to see you sweetheart, but um..” Piney states as his eyes cut over to the door making it clear that his mind is elsewhere at the moment.

“Go ahead, I’ll be around.” [Y/N] replies as she licks her lips anxiously and stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Gemma has me set up in one of the apartments so I’ll be around when you want to catch up.”

“Right.” Piney states before awkwardly shuffling away from her and then out the door where the rest of the guys went. [Y/N] inhales sharply and grinds her teeth together out of frustration, but all of that is soon brushed away when Gemma steps up and wraps a loving arm around her shoulders.

“How about we get you settled in and we’ll sit down and decide what to eat tonight yeah?” Gemma asks with a small smile to which [Y/N] nods excitedly.

“That sounds fucking fantastic.” [Y/N] states as she doubles back to pick up her luggage before being led to the apartment that Gemma had revamped for her. She happily drops her bag on the bed and unzips it allowing the lid to pop open and few parcels of clothing to come flying out into the air.

“Packed for a long stay did we?” Gemma questions as she starts to pull a few things out and put them into appropriate drawers of the dresser.

[Y/N] sighs heavily as she toys with a pair of socks, “Gonna be honest with you Gemma before flying out here I packed up my entire apartment and put it into storage. If everything works out and the right pieces fall into place I’m going to have a close friend ship the rest of my stuff out here. I-I think it’s time for me to officially return to Charming.”

“Well in that case, I hope everything works out for you baby. I think everyone around here could benefit from having you home for awhile.” Gemma replies as the bedroom door opens to reveal a happy looking Clay.

“Welcome home [Y/N].” Clay states as he walks into the room and wraps an arm around Gemma’s shoulders, “I hope this suits your needs until you’re ready to set up something permanent.”

“This is perfect for now, thanks for letting me crash here I couldn’t just overcrowd Opie and there’s no way in hell I'm going to stay at the family house.” [Y/N] replies with a soft smile, “and I couldn’t trouble the two of you even though Gemma did try her hardest.”

“Well anytime you get bored of this place we do have plenty of spare rooms.” Clay states while digging around in his pocket and after a couple of seconds he pulls out a set of keys, “these are for you, they’re for the gate, front door and a spare for your room.”

“Thanks a bunch,” [Y/N] states as she accepts the keys from Clay, “now, let's talk food cause i’m starving.” Clay excuses himself mentioning something about taking care of business and that he’d see Gemma at the house later that night. As [Y/N] and Gemma exit the clubhouse it's hard not to notice that most of the motorcycles have cleared out and that the only ones left belong to Clay and Jax. Gemma decides to drive to a well known local diner that [Y/N] in truth has missed oh so much and once they’re tucked away in a booth she starts to feel more and more at home. After eating their way through an appetizer, a main course and desert the two of them decide to call it a night and Gemma drops [Y/N] back off at the clubhouse before heading home herself. As she enters the clubhouse she’s greeted by a few of the guys who are sitting around outside drinking a few beers before calling it a night.

She waves to them and bid them goodnight before slipping past them and to her room ready for some sleep since the jetlag is finally catching up to her. The moment the door shuts behind her she locks the door and strips down into her panties so that she can pull on a sleep shirt and climb into bed. Without hesitation she pushes the rest of her luggage off her bed and climbs in completely ignoring the light blaring above her head and the low grumble of music coming from the front of the clubhouse.

Just as she drifts off to sleep her phone chimes loudly and as much as she wants to ignore it, she just can’t. Cracking an eye open she hits the home button and finds a text from Opie that says: sorry I couldn’t be part of the welcoming party, make it up to you with breakfast in the morning. Sweet dreams.

[Y/N] chuckles softly before closing out the message and dropping the phone on the floor next to the bed where she leaves it until the next morning.

Philtatos [8/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/48475991

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #secrets

First Chapter

Author's Note: So the action scene I was writing became long and unwieldy and complicated, and threw off my planned chapter ending, so I had to put some filler. I hope you guys don't mind some Batfam chatter in its place. I'll try to get to the meaty action scene soon. ________________________________________________________________

Tim gets out of his shower at the Nest, reaching for his phone before his towel. The digital numbers tell him he hasn’t been away from the manor for more than an hour; Jason should still be okay.

When Tim left, the older man was sleeping like a log. He didn’t even stir when Tim tripped and accidentally knocked into his display of Gundam models. That’s a bit concerning—everyone in the family has been trained to sleep lightly and react to any inexplicable shift or creak in a room.

Clearly the infection’s taking it out of him…

He towels off, struggles into his gear and applies the spirit gum to keep his mask in place, then checks his phone again. Another ten minutes have passed.

It’s fine. Jason will be fine. There’s still time to get back.

He’s finding it a bit nerve-wracking, being Jason’s anchor; knowing that right now he’s the only one able to call back his mind if it meanders into self-destructive obsession. It constantly lingers on the edge of his mind that he can’t keep this up forever.

Eventually Jason will be beyond his reach if they don’t get the diviners back. And even if—when—they get them back, will Tim be able to just resume the way things were before?

He grips the edge of the counter beside the shower, forcing himself to breathe. He can’t let himself go there.

Table that problem until after Jason’s safe.

He straightens up and heads for the holding cell, where he finds Eros sitting cross-legged on his cot, wings out and hands wrapped around one of the edges of a painting Tim brought from upstairs. Insubstantial golden threads collect around his fingers and the canvas, like a spider’s web, but pulsing.

After several moments, the glow disappears, and Eros cracks an eye open. “Will wonders never cease—you let me finish this time.”

“You’re not leaving bodily fluids this time,” Tim retorts, and hurries to cut off whatever smart-ass comment is imminent. “We may have found the person who took your bow and arrows. We’re not a hundred percent sure, but it’s looking that way.”

Eros tosses the painting to one side, eyes gleaming. “That’s excellent news! Who was it?”

“Her name’s Carrie Cutter.”

“Never heard of her,” Eros says immediately.

Tim sighs, and brings up the holographic screen of his arm-computer; it projects a three-dimensional image of Cutter’s military file. A thin-faced woman with auburn hair and green eyes.

Eros blinks and then points a finger. “Hey! Clingy Redhead!”

Well, now that we have a definite connection…

“She also goes by Cupid,” Tim says, half-expecting to get another rant on appropriating the names of ancient Greek mythological figures.

Instead, Eros snorts and says, “Well, she’s welcome to the name, but I want my shit back.”

“How did she even manage to steal them from you to begin with?”

“I was really stoned?”

“You’re sure that’s all?” Tim presses. “There’s no way she could have had help from a god or someone who knows a lot about gods?”

Eros scratches his chin. “Well, I mean, anything’s possible.”

Tim rolls his eyes.

“Who in your family has a grudge against you?”

“Do you want the alphabetical or chronological list?”

“True. You’ve ticked off a lot of people in the past. From what I’ve read, things don’t really turn out all that well for the people you help.”

“I take offense to that!” Eros complains. “Any time I’ve genuinely joined souls fated to be together, there’s been nothing but happiness. The only time my matches have gotten twisted is when some divine prima donna gets their perizoma in a bunch and interferes.”

“Which brings us back to there probably being a god involved in all this. It would help to know which one.”

“There are usually signs, if you look hard enough for them.”

“What exactly do you think we’re trying to do?”

“No, I mean…” Eros folds his arms, thoughtful. “Every Olympian—every god that I’ve ever heard of, anyway—has a signature. Something they’re drawn to, habits that don’t just vanish over the centuries. Symbols they’re drawn to, whether they notice it or not.”

“We would have noticed in any of the crime reports by now.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It might be completely obscure. Like I said, we don’t always notice when we do it. If you find anything even resembling a pattern, let me know what it is. I might recognize it.”

“You didn’t recognize it when you were getting robbed.”

“I—was—stoned—!”

And that’s as far as we’re getting with that avenue.

Tim glances at his phone again; there’s still time. “Going back over everything again and trying to find symbols that might possibly be related? It might take longer than we have—I’m on a deadline here.”

“You could always just summon this Cupid woman.”

“If it were that easy, the government would have figured out how to do it ages ago. She’s trained specifically to avoid detection. There’s a reason we only found traces of her days after she’s been in a given location.”

“I don’t mean just pick up the phone and call her or satellite stalk her or whatever you capes do,” Eros dismisses, “I mean use the summoning spell for my bow and arrows.”

Silence rings.

I…did not just hear what I think I heard, did I?

Tim counts to ten. Twice. And then does it in Cantonese for good measure.

“I lose you there somewhere, pretty boy?”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Tim replies, expounding far more concentration that he should be keeping his voice level. “You just arbitrarily decide, ‘hey, you look sufficiently frustrated, so now I’ll come up with some pearl of wisdom I could have shared earlier’, don’t you?”

“Screw you, birdboy, I don’t make the rules!” Eros spits. “I’m not a Magic-Ball, here to answer you whenever you humans come a-knockin’. Do you have any idea how much trouble that caused way back when?” Eros adopts a falsetto. “Oh, high-crowned goddess of love, woe is me, I’m a rich and spoiled daddy’s boy and can’t get no respect! Please steal the heart of the most beautiful woman in the world for me! Oh, most feared goddess of retribution, the boy I like rejected me, so after I kill myself, make him fall in love with his reflection so he starves to death while feasting on the sight of himself!” Eros shoots Tim an irritated glare. “You really think we came up with that crap? Trust me, things were a hell of a lot worse when we just up and did everything for you. And then, when you hairless apes realized we weren’t giving you everything you wanted anymore, you stopped paying tribute to us and jumped on the hobo carpenter bandwagon.”

“I’m Jewish,” Tim replies, unimpressed with the tangent.

“Yeah, well, so was he. Anyway. Do you know how many Olympians have wasted away when people stopped believing in them? Point it, we had to get used to holding back. Give a human the answers without them having to work for it, and you get Hiroshima.”

“Fine, whatever,” Tim growls. “How do we summon the bow and arrow.”

“Weren’t you listening? A spell.”

“We’re not big on magic around here.”

“Tough noogies. Do you want to know what to do, or not?”

“Get on with it.”

“Right. So first, you need a rose—”

“A rose? Now I know you’re messing with me.”

“Roses are my symbol, asshat, and they act as an instrument of grounding when channeling my will,” Eros snaps, causing Tim to hold his hands up in surrender. “Right, so get a rose and sharpen its stem to a point. Get Helmet Head and join hands with him, and he has to say—”

“Hold on. Go back—Red Hood has to be here for this?” Tim interrupts. He’s not sure that’s a good idea, considering the circumstances.

“Of course he has to be there, he’s the key to making the spell work.” Eros says slowly, like he’s talking to someone intellectually slow. “He’s the one who desires you most in the world, which is a powerful spell component. And he’s the only one in the world right now that has my blood running in his veins. Since I can’t be let out of this glass cage of yours, he’s the only other choice.”

Tim rubs his temples; of the two options, Jason is better than letting Eros free. “And naturally there’s blood involved…”

“All magic has a price,” Eros agrees. “Now, you have to get him to speak these words—” He grabs one of the nearby magazines and a pen, then scrawls something on the cover, “—and then you have to pierce both your palms with the rose. Wait until the blood stops flowing, and then use what falls in place to mark my symbol in the earth.”

He shoves the magazine through the hatch in the wall, and Tim frowns at the note. “This doesn’t look like Greek.”

“It’s not. More proto-Greek. Close to what the Minoans spoke.”

“The problem here being that no one knows what the Minoans spoke, least of all us.”

“Tall, Dark and Angry can read it. Consider it a perk of being infected with my blood.”

“Maybe the only one,” Tim mutters.

“Once the spell is complete, it will act as a beacon or magnet that draws the diviners to the symbol. And thus the one wielding them, wherever they are.”

“No offense, but this is ridiculous. It’s like something out of an episode of Charmed.”

“For your sake I hope you’re talking about the original and not the remake,” Eros sniffs.

“If you always had this spell in your back pocket, why didn’t you cast it when you realized your bow and arrows were missing?”

Eros’ expression becomes cold marble again. “The one who desired me most in the world is gone, remember?”

Tim frowns. “You’re the god of love. You could get anyone to desire you.”

“It doesn’t work like that, darlin’,” Eros smiles bitterly. “There’s a special kind of person for that to work, to activate the power of my blood. Someone with pure conviction, and that’s a rare trait to find. By the time I might track down someone like that…well, let’s just say it’s lucky for everyone that your brawny boy toy got tagged, because he’s got it.”

Tim can’t really argue with that, because Jason has conviction in spades. Even years later, he has never wavered in his dedication to his own version of Bruce’s mission, even if it’s at odds with what Batman stands for. He has no qualms about crossing lines if he must, and still believes himself to be in the right.

“Okay, fine, I’ll give you that,” he allows grudgingly. “But that still leaves the problem of taking out Cutter herself. She’s no slouch, considering her training, and I doubt she’s going to want to give up her new toys without a fight.”

“What a shame you don’t know a bunch of people who regularly dress up in spandex and deal with this kind of thing all the time,” Eros drawls.

Tim rolls his eyes and wanders away and keys in Batman’s call sign to his comm. He knows Bruce isn’t going to like any of this, but he might be able to offer some perspective.

“B? You busy?”

“No.” The voice crackles in his ear. “Returning to Gotham now; I’m just over the Atlantic.”

“Find anything?”

“Yes. Your information on Cupid helped.”

“So did any other customer see her?” Tim asks.

“I don’t know. The coffeeshop has been shut down.”

Tim blinks, going over that information once more in his head. “What? Why?”

“Potential health concerns. Within the past week, three people fell into comas while visiting the shop,” Batman informs him. “There’s concern in the city of a possible outbreak.”

“That…wasn’t in any of my research.”

“The authorities only shut it down today, and the shop hasn’t been named in the media.”

“And how did knowing about Cupid help then?”

“I tracked down the barista. She remembered her.”

“So she was definitely there,” Tim says, breathing out in relief. Finally, something.

“Yes. And when I went to examine the scene, I found something on the bottom of a cup.”

“A…cup.”

“Yes. If there were an actual contagion spreading from the shop, chances are it would be passed via utensils or dishes.” Batman pauses, and then grants, “It took a while.”

“So what did you find?”

“A Svefnthorn.”

“A what?”

“An Asgardian formula to sink someone into a deep sleep. It’s their version of Stygian Sleep, but it wouldn’t work permanently on an Olympian. Different magic, different rules. But it would be strong enough to put something like Eros enough of a stupor that he wouldn’t notice the theft of his diviners.”

“And not many people would know that,” Tim muses.

“No.”

“I don’t know about you, B, but I’m leaning more and more toward the idea that Cupid’s got a god backing her.”

Tim gives a quick explanation of his conversation with Eros, as well as his method to track the bow and arrow.

“Convenient of him to mention it now,” Batman remarks in a neutral tone.

“That’s what I figured.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Figured that, too.”

“Wait until I return. We’ll decide how to make our move then. We need to be prepared—you can’t go into this blind.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, even though he doesn’t want to wait longer than he must. “See you when you get back.”

“Acknowl—”

Bruce’s comm suddenly cuts off, and Barbara’s voice snaps in his ear, “Red Robin, get back to Red Hood now.”

Tim’s heart leaps into his throat. “What happened? Is he okay? He’s supposed to be sleeping—”

“Well, he woke up. I was able to keep him on the line for about fifteen minutes before he stopped responding.”

Tim stumbles as he runs toward the garage. “Is he—?”

“He’s still putting out bio-signals. I sent Jeeves and Robin to check on him, but you need to be here yesterday.”

“On my way.”

For the second time in two days, Tim is racing toward the Batcave, a pit in his stomach.

I’m a moron. I shouldn’t have been away for so long. I should have called Bruce when I was already on the way, I should have just asked Eros questions without reacting, like I was trained to do, instead of bitching at him about a stupid spell. Get in, get the information, move on.

When he arrives at the manor, Alfred isn’t there to greet him, which sends alarm bells ringing in his mind. Taking the steps to the second floor two at a time, he doesn’t pause until he passes the bathroom outside of Bruce’s study.

Alfred is leaning over Damian, cleaning and dressing a bloody wound on the boy’s head.

“What the hell happened?” he demands, more breathless than he should be.

“Language, Master Timothy,” Alfred chides, unflappable as always. When Damian swears as he presses an alcohol swab to the wound, he adds, “And you too, Master Damian. I would rather this not need actual stitches.”

“I’ll live,” Damian snaps, jerking his head out of Alfred’s reach and glaring at Tim. “Todd’s losing it. He was becoming unruly again and Pennyworth and attempted to help him. Then he threw an alarm clock at me.”

“And you didn’t dodge it?” Tim cries, hurrying off.

“I was—I was attempting to shield Pennyworth from taking the brunt of it to the face!” Damian shouts after him, but Tim doesn’t dwell on something he would normally tease the boy about.

Now that he knows there’s nothing major, he needs to get to his room.

Tim returns to find Jason sitting on the floor in his room, pressing himself into the wall the same way he was doing with the holding cell. His fingers are in his hair, tugging at the strands in agitation; his entire scalp and forehead an angry red at the irritation and he’s knocking his head against the wall just shy of the force needed for a concussion.

Tim practically vaults over his bed to crouch in front of Jason, grabbing his hands away from his hair. He notices they’re bleeding, hangnails and dry skin picked and scratched open.

“Jason…Jason, I’m here. I’m sorry.” Jason’s expression loses some of its distant, frantic mania. “I had to speak to Eros. I really thought you’d still be asleep when I got back.” He swallows back the nauseous feeling creeping up his throat. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you call me?”

Jason blinks a few more times, clutching back at Tim’s hands as though to ground himself; it takes a bit before clarity returns to his eyes.

“I knew you were coming back,” he says shakily. “I mean…I did. But I didn’t? I couldn’t stop thinking you weren’t coming back. Even though I knew…” He trails off, gives a manic chuckle. “I mean, fuck, this is your room. This is your house, obviously you’d be coming back, but…” This time Tim can’t tell if the sound is meant to be a bitter laugh or choked sob. “I’m going crazy here, babybird.”

Cold, angry fury suffuses Tim’s body at how broken he sounds. At the fact that Jason Todd—the Robin he idolized, the one that’s always had to duck life’s hardest curveballs, the one that makes the hard decisions, who is supposed to be strong and fierce and good—is being reduced to this. Right before Tim’s eyes.

He’s vulnerable right now not because he actually trusts Tim, but because something is making him. Something is turning him into a victim.

At which point Tim makes a decision.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“We’re getting out of here,” Tim insists, trying to tug Jason to his feet.

“Uh, that’s probably one of your worse ideas,” the other man replies cautiously, resisting the pull. “I’ll be fine. I mean, you’re here now.”

Tim’s heart clenches.

“Yeah. Right now I’m here.” What happens the next time he leaves though? But seeing Jason’s reluctance, he sighs. “Okay, Jason, it’s your choice. We’ll stay here until B gets here. Should be a few hours still. You can recover, and then we’ll all go together.”

“Where?”

“I might have a way to get the bow and arrows. Tonight,” Tim explains. “B wants to wait until he gets here for back-up, but—”

Jason stumbles to his feet, practically dragging Tim up with him. “No way. Let’s go. Right now.”

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said, and I’m not waiting another minute if I don’t have to!” Jason snaps.

“But he was right, we probably will need back-up.”

“I’ve got all the back-up I need,” Jason insists, tugging Tim close by the shoulder, “Now come on, I need to get my helmet.”

⁂

Tim, paranoid freak that he is, isn’t keen on busting in on Cupid just the two of them and without an actual plan. Despite Jason’s confidence that they could easily take out someone like Carrie Cutter together, mystical weapons or not (and hell, he’s got mystical weapons too, if it comes down to it), Tim insists on being responsible and summons whatever Bats are still in the city to coordinate an actual impromptu sting.

Damian is already in the cave when they arrive, changing into his uniform. Jason grins at him. “No hard feelings about nearly braining you, right?”

“Tt. I look forward to you regaining all your faculties,” the kid retorts. “It will make beating you within an inch of your life that much more enjoyable.”

“Geeze, kid, you could just say you’re going to kill me. Fewer words.”

“Master Damian has already reached his weekly allotment of death threats,” Alfred remarks in a mild voice as he checks a line of tranquilizer rifles. “Any further instances and he will not be permitted to visit with Master Jonathan this weekend.”

Damian bristles at the word ‘permitted’ but doesn’t argue beyond a mutinous scowl.

Jason whistles appreciatively, both at the implicit power Alfred has over the kid (and let’s face it, the entire family), and the collection of sedatives laid out on the table. The concentrations range from human-sized targets to someone of Wonder Woman’s constitution. Since there’s no way of knowing whether Cupid intends to show up alone or with her divine ringer, Tim maintained that it was better to be safer than sorry.

Jason is eager to get out, tired of waiting and antsy. His skin itches, which has been a symptom ever since this whole infection thing began. As he rubs at his neck, he tries not to feel like he’s being pulled in a million different directions. He wants so many things right now—a fight where he doesn’t have to hold back, a cold shower, to sleep for eight hours, to run his fingers through Tim’s hair—

Jason shakes himself.

At least one of those things is imminent, so he decides to focus on that.

Finding Carrie Cutter and taking her out. Getting Eros’ diviners so he can get himself back to his normal level of screwed-up. Leaving Gotham in his rear-view long enough that he won’t have trouble looking anyone in the eye for a wile.

That he won’t have trouble looking Tim in the eye for a while.

The cave seems less claustrophobic this time around.

Jason attributes that to the fact he’s not locked in a giant glass box like a creature at a zoo. Also, the conspicuous lack of looming disapproval that is Bruce Wayne.

“Remember, Jason—non-lethal,” Tim says as Jason they both go through the routine gear and weapons’ check before suiting up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason replies, reaching around Tim to grab a few extra flash grenades; he doesn’t need to draw his arm along the length of Tim’s shoulders, or lean into him a half second longer than acceptable, but it’s a small comfort after his recent attack of paranoia. “Not like B would have left anything capable of doing actual lasting damage, since my stuff’s been sitting out here nice and open the past few days.”

“Lethal and doing lasting damage are two different things.”

“Not in B’s mind.”

“He knows there’d be no point to removing or tampering with your things. You have enough caches around Gotham to replace anything he might take.”

Jason shoots him a suspicious glance. “And how do you know that?”

Tim smirks at him, and Jason’s heart stutters.

That expression’s been turned on him before, but usually he’s just done something to piss the other vigilante off. This time, it’s almost conspiratorial, like he and Jason are in on the same joker. And holy hell, that should not be as hot to him as it is.

Eros’ blood. Supernatural roofie. I wouldn’t actually think so under normal circumstances.

But a niggling thought at the back of his head thinks that even once he gets cured, his mind is going to go directly back to that if Tim ever turns that look on him again.

The sound of tires squealing against stone and metal grating echo in the cave, and everyone looks up to watch Batgirl peel in the cave on her bike.

“Hey guys,” Blondie says, dismounting her bike and grinning at them. “I heard we were throwing ourselves headfirst into trouble?”

“That’s not what I said,” Tim mutters from his spot at the computer, scrolling rapidly through several different satellite images of Gotham.

“It’s what I heard.” She turns her gaze on Jason, surveying him with pursed lips. “Why is the homicidal maniac out of his cage?”

“Steph!”

“I’m not a maniac,” Jason informs her.

“I notice you don’t argue the homicidal part.”

“I don’t lie about important stuff. Unlike some people in this room.”

“Everyone in this cave lies for a living.”

“Not me. You’re the ones who are so concerned about secret identities. I died, remember?”

“Who here hasn’t?”

“Not you, from what I hear.”

“Six minutes dead is still dead.”

“Try six months.”

“Try almost a year and a half,” Damian cuts in.

“Is this really the time to play Who-Was-Dead-Longest game?” Tim asks, shooting an exasperated look in their direction. Jason’s pretty sure it’s mostly directed at Blondie, but he still feels a measure of guilt.

“It’s really not,” Dick’s voice carries down the stairs from the upper level. He dismounts, cape flowing behind them and fixes them with a disapproving look. “And if you can’t get along, we’re not doing this tonight. We’re already a man down since Cass is still in Hong Kong and Babs has Duke en route to Greece.”

“Greece?” Tim turns away from the computer, confused.

Debating for a moment whether it’s something he wants to share or not, Jason decides to fill everyone else in on what Barbara told him.

Tim’s expression becomes dark. “I’m liking this entire situation less and less with every passing hour.”

“Tell me about it,” Dick sighs. “I still think we should wait. This is an op we shouldn’t run without Batman.”

“You’re already here,” Tim points out.

Dick frowns at him. “Very funny. You know what I mean.”

“Screw that,” Jason interrupts. “I’m not waiting for him to drift on in here. He won’t get here for hours and I want this done now.”

“We have to do something,” Tim agrees. “Not just because of what’s going on with Jason, but the longer Cupid’s out there, the more likely she’s continuing her murder spree.”

“Planet don’t stop spinning just because B isn’t in Gotham. People all over the world gotta do shit without relying on him to show up. I know I’ve learned not to hold my breath.”

“Jason!” Dick and Tim chorus, shooting him disapproving looks.

“That attitude is why you will ever be the disgrace,” Damian sniffs. “I agree with Richard. This is a bad idea.”

“You’re right. You should stay here,” Tim says.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Drake!”

The kid looks about two seconds away from stomping his foot.

“He’s messing with you, Dami. If he didn’t actually need you, you wouldn’t be here,” Blondie offers.

The kid scowls. “I do not need you to coddle me, Brown. I am aware of Drake’s methods, basic as they are.”

“We don’t know the timeframe we’re working with,” Tim goes on, getting up from his place at the computer and approaching Dick with a mulish expression. “Jason could be fine for the next five hours until B gets here, or he could progress to the next stage of the infection. Despite monitoring his symptoms, there doesn’t seem to be a standard rate of mental decay, and that’s thrown off by outside factors anyway. We still don’t know what all-out succumbing to this could look like.”

“And I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to,” Jason adds.

“Also, let’s not forget who was advocating using Stygian Sleep the last time Jason’s condition declined sharply.”

Dick shoots Tim a betrayed look. “Excuse me for not wanting to watch my brother rip himself to pieces in front of me.”

“No, you’d rather send my soul directly to Hell, or Hades, or wherever,” Jason deadpans. “’Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200’.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Oh, excuse me—temporarily send my soul directly to Hell, or Hades, or wherever. There’s a distinction. Excuse me if I’m more confident with Tim’s idea.”

“You don’t get a vote; you’d be confident about anything Tim proposed, even if it involved a Box-and-Stick Trap,” Damian interjects.

“Would not,” Jason mutters, although he thinks if anyone could make something as obvious as that work, it would probably be Tim. “I’m confident about Tim because since this whole thing’s started he’s done the most to help me through it, instead of keeping my locked in a box.”

“You wanted to be locked up!”

“Before Tim figured out, I didn’t need to be, as long as he was around!”

“Wait, what?” Steph asks, looking between the two. “This part I missed.”

“And he did that even after all the shit I’ve put him through, which is more than I can say for—”

“Don’t accuse anyone here of not trying to help you,” Dick snaps. “Damian and I have been spending overtime on patrol all week trying to track Cupid. Duke is on his way to Greece right now to follow a lead that might have nothing to do with any of this just because you and Babs have a theory. Even Steph’s put all her cases on hold to be here tonight.”

Jason pauses, somewhat caught off guard because he hadn’t known that bit of information. Then he crosses his arms defensively. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask her to. Blondie doesn’t even like be—barely knows me.”

“Since when does that matter in this Family, you giant idiot?” Blondie grumbles.

“Jay, you’d be less surprised about everyone willing to help you if you didn’t try to keep yourself apart from everyone all the time,” Dick concludes with a sigh. “That’s at least one silver lining to all this. You’re finally letting someone in—even if it’s just Tim right now.”

He reaches out to clap a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“Hey! Hands off!” Jason snarls, shoving Dick away and pulling Tim toward him. It’s not done violently or in a manner meant to hurt him, but this time Tim does go stiff in his arms. The three other vigilantes immediately move like they’re about to spread out around them, expressions as a serious as if they need to diffuse a bomb.

Jason’s wits return, and he quickly releases his hold on the smaller man. “Sorry.”

Blondie looks between the two of them, mouth gaping a bit. “Damn. They weren’t kidding. That’s one hell of a one-eighty you pulled there, Hood.”

“Personally, I preferred him trying to kill Drake instead of grope him.”

“Damian!” several voices protest, but the kid looks unrepentant.

“Dick, just listen to me,” Tim implores, cheeks flushed with obvious embarrassment over the situation. “I have a plan.”

The man in the cowl continues to look wary, but they’ve all worked with Tim long enough to respect when he has a plan. Eventually, he relaxes and nods, indicating he’s listening.

Tim outlines everything, starting with finding a suitable location. Summoning Cupid to the Cave isn’t going to happen, since they can’t compromise its location, and they can’t be too close to the city either. If Roy’s stories are anything to go by, Carrie Cutter has never been choosy when it comes to collateral damage.

“And if what Eros is saying is true, gods are like that but with more firepower,” Tim says. “We still don’t know who’s backing Cupid.”

“Feathers had no idea?”

“Apparently the list of people he’s pissed off starts with us and goes around the block twice.”

“I’m so surprised.”

Tim has chosen a strategically promising position that will be empty at this time of night, with enough natural cover that they can easily stay out of sight until needed. The downside is it’s worryingly close to the part of Robinson Park that Poison Ivy’s claimed as her own.

“I don’t like it,” Dick says. “Not your plan—most of it’s sound. But that last bit. Anything that draws Ivy’s attention while we’re doing this could go badly for us.”

“On the contrary, I’m pretty sure it would work out. We know better than to cause intentional harm to the flora in the area; Cupid doesn’t. And since when she fights, she doesn’t care what she destroys, she’s more likely to draw Poison Ivy’s attention than we are.”

“Or she could be in one of those moods where she decides she hates men and the only one who makes it out alive is Blondie,” Jason points out.

“I’m okay with that,” she pipes up helpfully.

Tim rolls his eyes. “Ivy likes me. We have an understanding.”

“I call bullshit,” Jason shoots back.

“No, really. I calculate a high probability that if she sees me there she’ll focus her attention on what she considers to be the greatest threat to her plants, giving all of us a chance to retreat if necessary.”

“Oh yeah? And what gives you that certainty?”

“Well, she kissed me and I’m not dead,” Tim says. “Considering the number of guys she’s left for dead that way…Jason? Are you okay?”

“I’ll kill her,” Jason growls, a murderous rage suddenly suffusing his entire body. “If she comes anywhere near you, I’m going to string you up with her own vines and feed her pesticides until she rots.”

There’s a heavy silence, and everyone is staring at him, once again like a rapid animal about to spring. Jason blinks, running over his last words, and shakes his head, feeling suddenly dizzy and drained.

“Sorry,” he says. “That came out of nowhere.” He tries to explain it to Tim. “I just—”

“No, uh…it’s fine.”

Jason scowls. “I could learn to hate that word.”

“Me too,” Dick says darkly. “If you can’t control yourself in the field, maybe you should stay here.”

“Not happening,” he insists, at the same time Tim cries, “No!”

“Tim, come on, you just saw—”

“If we leave him here alone and locked up he could hurt himself if we’re gone for a long time. Besides, my plan calls for all of us and the chances of success diminish exponentially with fewer people.”

“Then we’ll call in Selina, or Kate, or Helena or—”

“On holiday in Austria, temporarily out of commission, undercover,” Tim rattles off.

“Then call in the Titans—”

“They still wouldn’t get here right away and then we might as well wait for B,” Tim snaps. “Dick, we’ve been standing here arguing for ten minutes and look what he’s done to his hands.” He reaches over and grabs hold of Jason’s right hand, holding it up to show the bloody mess of picked and scratched skin.

Damn it. I didn’t even realize I was doing that.

The immediacy of the sight at least seems to finally convince Dick of Tim’s argument, because his shoulders slump and he says, “Tell me the rest of your plan.”

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

This blog isn’t my primary, so my reblogs don’t show up very well. As such, please reblog the fic, otherwise not a lot of people are going to see it :)

<3 Violet

You say you want to stay by my side (darling your heads not right)

Dick is stupid and reckless on a mission, whats new, and Roy deals with the fallout

Pairing: dickroy

AO3

For @tayaart, who was my secret Valentine for the @thearrowheadnet gift exchange!!

I hope it's ok, it was written in a coffee shop after like 2 hours of sleep, and is not beta'd in any way shape or form!!

The bickering from down the hall was unmistakable, and marked the end of Roy’s peaceful day with Lian. He walked to the door and waited for a knock, watching Lian colour, quietly and peacefully.

“You were stupid and reckless.”

“No more than usual-“

“That’s my point.” Roy braced himself as he opened the door to a worse for wear Dick, and a fuming Donna. It was rare for her to get this angry, and Roy felt his hackles raise.

“I’ve got it from here, Donna.” He said, as he reached to take Dick’s arm from around her shoulder. “Thanks for getting him here in one piece.”

“Yeah, despite his best efforts.” She snapped, but he could tell she was cooling down. Dick didn’t seem to be able to stand by himself very well, which wasn’t a great sign.

“I’ll sort him out.” Roy promised, giving Dick a once-over. Donna had the good sense to throw one of her hoodies over his Nightwing costume, but his arm didn’t look quite right, clutched at his chest, and nasty bruises were starting to bloom across his chin and cheek. Even in this state, he was stubborn, and stared resolutely at the floor. Roy sighed again, as he lead him inside, tossing a “Just a second,” over his shoulder.

He walked him over to the couch, the short trip taking longer than usual. Making sure to be gentle, he laid Dick down, and winced at the groan that elicited.

“We’re going to talk about this.” He said quietly, carding his hand through dark hair. Dick still wouldn’t look at him. This wasn’t going to be fun.

“Lian, honey, could you grab an ice pack for uncle Nightwing? I need to talk to auntie Donna quickly.”

He watched as she dutifully dropped her crayons, and rushed for the kitchen. He’d be safe in her tiny, caring hands, Roy knew that much. He glanced at Dick one last time – still angry – before going to meet Donna in the hall.

The door clicked closed behind him, “So what-“

“He fell. He was stupid, and he fell, Roy.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration, “It was Slade again, he called me to help, and things got out of hand,”

“I can see that”

She raised her eyebrows and barked out a laugh, “He’s an idiot. He jumped to push me out of the way, Roy! I’m damn near indestructible, can you believe that?”

He shrugged, “Yeah.”

She shook her head as she walked away, looking smaller than usual.

-

“God, Dick.” Roy muttered under his breath as he re-entered the apartment. He knew those two fought from time to time, but he refused to get involved. They’d patch it up in a few days, they always did, but he had more pressing issues to attend to. Like that wrist, bent at a funny angle.

At least Dick was starting to melt a little, with Lian working her magic on him. She’d grabbed as many ice packs as she could hold, and put them on in all the wrong spots, but she held Dick’s hand and chattered about her day, which was probably more important anyway. No one could resist her charm.

He ushered her out of the living room, and into his own, where he could set her up in front of the tv to keep her quiet like a good parent. When he returned, he saw that Lian had tucked her blankie around Dick’s shoulders. He took a moment to appreciate how lucky he was to have her – every parent thought they had the best kid, but they were wrong. It didn’t last, because Dick appeared to be dozing, setting alarm bells off in Roy’s head.

He rushed forward and knelt at the couch, “Hey, babe, you’ve got to stay awake.” He was careful not to be too loud, well aware of how bad concussions hurt. Dick’s eyes fluttered open, though his eyes were blown and unfocussed.

“I think Donna’s mad at me,” Dick frowned at Roy’s involuntary laugh, “hey, don’t be mean to me.” He fought his way into a sitting position, icepacks cascading onto the floor, and glared down at the cackling readhead.

“I don’t think you know how much trouble you’re in, love. Truly.”

“I have a pretty good idea.” His words were a little slurred, but he was regaining consciousness quickly. Only a mild concussion, he surmised. Lucky.

“No, you don’t.” he shook his head, and looked around for the med kit he kept stashed near by, for exactly this reason.

Roy trusted Dick, and he was by no means defenceless. A fierce fighter, unparalleled at hand to hand, fast as hell, and smarter than anyone Roy had ever met. But – like Donna said – he was reckless. Stupidly so. And it was at times like these that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Dick would die before his time. He let himself stare for a moment – messy black curls, a stubbornly set jaw, and startlingly blue eyes, glassy but still breathtaking.

-

Once Roy was satisfied with his patch job, Dick had showered and taken the legal amount of ibuprofen, and Lian was tucked in bed for the night, he decided it was time. He gathered his courage, and walked into the living room to yell at the battered-bat-brat on his couch.

Dick, to his credit, had the decency to look sheepish. He was avoiding eye contact again, but he shifted over on the couch, and patted the spot next to him for Roy.

“I’m going to remain standing for this, if you don’t mind.” He planted his feet, and crossed his arms.

“Yep.”

“What. Were you thinking.”

“I was-“

Roy cut him off sharply, “Trick question, because you weren’t.” He raised his eyebrows as Dick opened his mouth to retort something in defiance, before huffing, and looking away again, intransigent.

“Dick, it isn’t just you anymore.” He implored, not that it ever was. Dick has always been surrounded by more love than he knew what to do with. But he’s an adult now, and he has to learn some time. “How would Donna feel. You know she’d blame herself.”

“I know.” He buried his head in his good hand, the other strapped safely across his chest. They’d need to go and get it x-rayed in the next few days, but for now it was enough.

“And what would I tell Lian.” Roy didn’t think it was possible, but Dick’s shoulders slumped even further. “It’s not fair when you do this, Rob.” He plead, slipping back into the habit of old nicknames. He hated these conversations, both on the giving and receiving end.

“I was just trying to protect her.” The brunette snapped, clearly before he could think better of it. God, he was always like this. Impulsive and steadfast. His eyes were guarded, and Roy knew that he was a matter of seconds away from shutting down.

“Donna can handle herself.” But Roy wasn’t going to let that happen, they were going to hash this out, damn it.

Dick screwed up his face, running his hand through his hair, “I know that.” He huffed, looking about ready to bolt, fist clenched, and eyes fixed anywhere but Roy.

“Rob, the whole world doesn’t need to be on your shoulders.” He said, and watched the other deflate a little. Good, he seemed to be getting through that thick scull. Figuring the worst of the chewing-out was over, he treaded forward and knelt on the couch beside Dick, careful not to jostle him. He reached to take his hand, smoothing his fingers out and stroking at the dug-in crescents.

“It’s just because she cares. We all do.” He brought Dick’s hand to his lips and brushed kisses across his knuckles. “You can’t just leave us, Damian would revolt, you know we can’t handle him.”

“He’s not that bad”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Dick brought his knees up onto the couch, and turned to look at Roy finally, cupping his face with his hand, and staring deep into his eyes. “I’ll- I’ll think more next time. I’ll be more careful.”

“You just terrify me.” He smiled tiredly, and rested his hand atop Dick’s. They’d had this conversation so many times, starting as hot-head kids, throwing punches, hurling insults, and using kisses as weapons. Neither of them had the energy for that anymore, battered and bruised deep down in their souls. It had been too many years, now. They were both reckless and stupid, but he had Lian to watch out for now, and Dick had Damian to mentor, and he just wanted just wanted to shake him until he understood.

“We all need you, Rob. I don’t know what I’d do-” he couldn’t finish that. It was a dark place in his psyche that he wandered through late at night when sleep wouldn’t come. What would he do when he finally heard the news he feared most. Death wasn’t a stranger to them, in this game. They’d both seen its ravages first hand, the changes it wrought in both Jason and Damian, the terrible, unflinching grief they had felt for Donna, and the scars that remained years on from Dick’s time as Batman. He couldn’t go through that again. He was weary down to his bones.

“I’m sorry,” Dick burst out, and it was earnest. Roy let him collapse into his chest, only drawing him closer. He buried his face in damp, black curls, and dropped kisses at the crown of his head.

They sat in silence, and let the moment wash over them. It was nice to be together again, after weeks of clashing schedules and bullshit two minute catch-ups. Roy let his anger subside, and contemplated on the life he’d built for himself. A big, tidy apartment (excepting Lian’s toys, scattered across the room) in Manhattan, a close group of friends, an amazing relationship (stressful as it may be), and Lian, his pride and joy. He let himself be at peace for now. They weren’t done, but they both needed this. They both needed to just breathe.

“You’re gonna need to call Donna, first thing tomorrow.” Roy mumbled into his hair, and ran his fingers down his back, just because he could. “She’s scary. You’re on your own there, buddy.”

Dick laughed for the first time that evening, and shifted so he could press kisses of his own where Roy’s shoulder met his neck. “She’ll be fine once she cools off.”

“You’re awfully confident. Did you miss her dropping you at my door step and storming off?” he made sure there was no bite in his words – or as little as he could manage.

“I’ll make it up to her.” He said, resolutely. “And I’ll make it up to you too – thank you.”

Roy smiled and let his eyes fall shut, feeling comfortable and complete in the moment. “You know I’m always here for you. Ride or die.”

He felt Dick shake against him as he laughed, “God, you’re so lame. I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

“Your dad say you can’t hang out with me?”

“Yeah, he says you’re a bad influence.” They were both laughing now, Their banter was easy, after almost two decades of friendship, and a ten years of something else. Unnamed, but by no means any less real. He loved Dick, and he knew Dick loved him back. Unconditionally.

-

The next morning, Roy woke to Lian clambering into the bed, and flopping down on top of him. Dick stirred, but didn’t wake - he wasn’t a morning person. Usually Roy would bug him, kissing anywhere he could reach, and prodding him until he was too awake to fall back asleep. Today, however, Dick needed rest. In the morning light, the black and blue bruising seemed more alarming, more real. But it wasn’t anything they hadn’t both dealt with before.

Roy pressed a gentle kiss to Dick’s cheek, watching him smile as he dozed, before scooping Lian up, and taking her with him to make breakfast.

“Pancakes.” She stated, and he knew there was no room for negotiation.

He set her up on the kitchen bench, handed her one of her books, and set to fixing them. Roy was almost certain they were out of flour, but failure wasn’t an option.

Some time later, when Lian had lost interest in stirring the batter, and was singing nonsense, mashed up, nursery rhymes, Dick appeared from the bedroom. He was sleep rumpled, and looked soft in Roy’s too-big sweats that he had commandeered long ago.

“Good morning, princess!” he made a bee-line for Lian, first, letting her pat his face and pull his hair. Roy felt his heart melt all over again, as Dick peppered her chubby, baby cheeks with kisses and raspberries, and she laughed. He watched on from the stove, careful not to let Lian’s pancake burn. She was very particular, and wouldn’t hesitate to tell him if he did it wrong. He was surrounded by nothing but stubborn people.

Finally, Dick drew away from Lian and crossed the kitchen to greet Roy with a kiss that made his knees weak. He thought he could get used to this.

“Good morning,” he smiled against Dick’s lips, quickly turning the stove down, before wrapping the brunet up in his arms, and kissing down his neck, in as PG-13 a way he possibly could. Dick just laughed and held on, keeping some distance for his wrists sake.

“Daddy it’s burning!” Lian shrieked and hopped down from the bench, running to shove her father for his attention. It worked, and they both snapped reluctantly from the moment.

Dick stepped away, letting Roy pick Lian up and balance her on his hip, returning to the task at hand.

“It looks like you’ve got your hands full here,” he started towards the window by the fire escape, pulling out his phone as he went. “Save one for me!”

Roy watched for a moment as Dick started climbing for the roof. All bats were the same, and seemed to do their best thinking at higher altitudes. He just hoped that Donna was in a forgiving mood.

-

Almost an hour later Dick wandered into Lian’s room, where Roy was helping her get dressed for the day. She was insisting on a spiderman shirt paired with a pink tutu, and it all clashed horribly. Maybe she spent too much time around uncle Nightwing, and his garish fashion sense was rubbing off on her.

Dick seemed lighter, as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He dropped down to Lian’s level with Roy, and started working on untangling her hair. They worked well as a team, shocker, and she was ready to face the day in record time.

“What do you want to do today, princess?” Dick asked, scooping her up and nuzzling her cheeks, and Roy marvelled at the family he’d built himself.

-

They ended up spending most of the day in the ER, waiting to get Dick’s wrist scanned. They bickered – Dick refused namedrop that he was a Wayne, even though it would get them through triage faster, and Roy didn’t like Dick taking Lian to the vending machine for chips. It was hardly a day for the memory bank, but they were happy. And in this game, that was more than enough.