#put it aside so i could take a break and woke up. instant fury at the universe for not having it be a real book instead | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wildwarcat · 4 years

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Okay, I caved in to my own personal peer pressure and decided to post the first chapter of Warhawk. If you’ve got questions, or just wanna chat because you’re slowly slipping into madness due to social distancing, shoot me a message!

Words: 4k

Warnings: Fluff, partial nudity, maybe some cussin’

Prologue

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The Reunion

"If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown. But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

New Orleans, Louisiana, May 1995

Had I known what events would transpire over the course of the following twenty-four hours, I would have had less to drink at my usual watering hole. Not that it made a difference. After the crash in 1989, I found that I was physically incapable of ever getting drunk again. What a horrible way to grieve... sober, that is. Had it not been for my level of clearance at S.H.I.E.L.D., I never would have known the details surrounding the crash, the details regarding why Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. was terminated. Lawson was dead, her body recovered at the site. But Carol...

Carol was nowhere to be found. There was no evidence of a body at the crash. We were forced to believe that when Lawson's light speed engine exploded... we were forced to believe that her body disintegrated on contact as a result of the blast. Maria was given the remaining half of her dog tags, which she in turn gave to me. It sat around my neck everyday, next to mine. But it didn't do much to take away the pain, the hole in my heart that had been growing wider with each passing day over the course of six years.

"Foxtrot to Warhawk."

I pressed the comm in my ear as I flagged down the bartender and pointed at my empty beer glass, "Go ahead, Foxtrot."

"I'm gonna need you to swing by a set of coordinates not too far from your location. I've sent them to your pager."

"What for? On account of me being S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top asset, I believe I have the right to know what I'm walking in to, don't you?" I asked him with a smirk, despite the fact that he couldn't even see it.

"Well, if I told you what it was about, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?"

I laughed, taking a sip from my glass as I did, "All right. I'll be there in an hour. Want me to bring my briefcase?"

"And your Sunday best."

I straightened up, my light tone turning serious as I threw forty bucks down to pay off my tab, "I'm on my way."

Chugging the remainder of my lager, I grabbed my leather jacket and keys before exiting the bar, making my way toward my now rusty truck. I had been given the option of upgrading it shortly after the crash, but there were too many memories in it for me to simply let it go. I would drive that old Chevy into the ground if given the opportunity. The engine roared to life and I slammed the driver's door shut, whipping my pager off my belt. Sure enough, Fury had sent me a set of coordinates along with the message, 'Look for the jet parked out front.'

I pulled out a map from my glove compartment and tracked down where I needed to be pretty quickly before throwing the truck in reverse and speeding out of the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finding the place that Fury wanted me to go wasn't that hard. It was what came after I got there that made things interesting. When I put my truck in park outside of a small house not far from the Louisiana bayou, I immediately went to my truck bed and pulled out a large steel trunk. Having enhanced strength certainly had its perks because with one arm, I was able to carry one hundred and fifty pounds of reinforced steel without trouble to the front door.

Not knowing what was on the other side, I decided to give a S.H.I.E.L.D. approved code through the door.

Knock... knock, knock, knock... knock... knock, knock.

The door swung open wide, revealing Nick Fury. His left eye had been patched up, looked like it had been cut just above his brow, and he looked exhausted, but aside from that, he seemed okay.

"What happened to you?" I asked him, "I thought you were in California."

"It's a long story." He sighed, "You brought your stuff, right?"

"Everything's here." I replied, lifting the trunk a bit higher. Fury stepped aside and let me in, but stopped me before I could go any further into the house.

"There's something you need to know, Mac." He said quietly, his tone serious. I arched a brow at him and took a hesitant step back.

"Then tell me."

"That pilot you told me about, the one who died in a crash six years ago. Her name was Carol Danvers, wasn't it?"

My expression faltered, went from steely to heartbroken and back in an instant, "Yeah. And I thought I told you to never bring it up. So why are we talking about it?"

"Well, that's the thing. Turns out-"

Someone stepped into the hallway, well, multiple someones did. What I saw sent my head spinning. There was Maria Rambeau, standing with her daughter, Monica, now twelve years old. And there with them...

"That's impossible." I breathed, my voice cracking uncharacteristically, "You're dead."

But she wasn't. Standing there right before my eyes was Carol Danvers, still stunningly beautiful, still as fiery as an F-15 afterburner. But there was something different about the way she was looking back at me. It was as though she didn't recognize me at all, as if I was a stranger to her. Then something seemed to click, and recognition flooded her beautiful brown eyes.

"Paige?" She asked gently, her voice like music to my ears. I set my trunk down and opened the front door, motioning for her to follow me outside. She did, and as soon as we were far enough away that I was certain no one would see or hear us, I turned around to face her again.

"How are you alive?" I asked her angrily, tears stinging the backs of my eyes, "I saw the photos of the crash, there's no way you could have survived!"

She took a step toward me, reached out to set a hand on my shoulder, but I slunk back, wanting to keep my distance from... whoever this imposter had to be.

"Lawson and I both survived the crash. We were shot down by a Kree ship; they're an alien race hellbent on getting their hands on Lawson's lightspeed tech. They killed Lawson and kidnapped me."

The more she spoke the less I believed. Every word that tumbled out of her mouth just added to the insanity.

"How can you expect me to believe that?" I demanded, my hand drifting to the pistol attached to my belt, "How can you possibly expect me to believe anything you say?"

"Then ask me something." She begged, tears welling up in her own eyes, "Ask me something only I would know."

I took a shaky breath and drew my pistol, "Tell me about the night we first kissed."

She paused, looking as though she was searching for the memory, her eyes drifting toward the ground. I wrapped my index finger around the trigger. Then her eyes shot up to meet mine.

"We were at your place after karaoke night at Pancho's. Maria had gone home early because her babysitter bailed on her, so it was just the two of us. We were standing on the front porch of your house and we were both drunk off our asses, but we still managed to remember every single detail when we woke up the next morning. After I kissed you, I said, 'I've never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as I've wanted to kiss you.' And then you kissed me."

I had never told anyone about that night... not even Maria, not even Nick. It was really her. My entire body tensed, I dropped my gun and let the water works run.

"Carol?"

She nodded, tears streaming down her own cheeks as she began to smile. I strode over to her, my arms snaking around her, her hands making their way around my waist. Time seemed to speed up as we stood there, holding tightly onto each other, both of us fighting the urge to kiss each other. It wasn't until Maria called us both back inside that we finally separated, though that didn't stop Carol from keeping her hand in mine the entire walk back to the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So let me see if I've got this straight." I said, recapping the events that had just been described to me, "After you shot Lawson's light speed engine, you absorbed the radiating energy from the blast and got kidnapped by the Kree. On their home planet you were given a blood transfusion which makes you a human/Kree hybrid. And after being kidnapped by the Skrulls, including this guy over here," I pointed at the Skrull, who had introduced himself as Talos, "You ended up back on Earth with no recollection of your past life. Then you managed to break into Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S., escape S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, realize that the Kree are actually the bad guys and regain your memories. And now, you're asking me to go with you into space in order to find Lawson- sorry, Mar-Vell's lab, where she hid the energy core that the Kree are after. Sound about right?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Though when I got my memories back, I definitely didn't remember you being taller than me though." Carol remarked with a lopsided smirk. She and Fury had filled me in on what had happened and why two green, monstrous-looking aliens were in the Rambeau house, but I was having a bit of trouble wrapping my head around everything. So rather than ask a million questions, I turned my attentions to Carol's comment.

"The last time I saw you physically was the day before I went in to receive the Super Soldier Serum. As soon as the procedure was over, I was sent to D.C. for S.H.I.E.L.D. training. We spoke on the phone a few times, but I never saw you again after that day. And next thing I knew, you and... Mar-Vell were both dead." Lawson's true name still didn't sound right coming out of my mouth. The look on my face made both Carol and Talos, chuckle.

"So what have you been doing then for the past six years?" Carol asked me out of genuine curiosity, "They didn't stick you behind a desk like Fury, did they?"

It was my turn to laugh, "God, no! Director Carter assigned a S.T.R.I.K.E. team to me as soon as my training was complete. I've been leading covert ops missions all over the planet for the past seven and a half years."

"Did they dress you up like Captain America?"

I narrowed my eyes at her and got up from my chair at the dining room table. The trunk I had brought in was still sitting by the front door, so I brought it into the dining room and set it down in plain view for everyone. I unlatched the lid and lifted it open, revealing a custom uniform, similar to Rogers' design. It was mainly blue, a navy blue, darker than Rogers' uniform and on the chest was a navy hawk crest set atop red and white stripes. Deep red leather gloves, matching navy pants, a utility belt and simple military combat boots completed the ensemble. I reached underneath the uniform and drew out the icing on the cake.

I don't know how Howard Stark had managed to get his hands on more vibranium and, frankly, I didn't ask. But before going out into the field, Stark had given me a vibranium shield and, aside from the hawk crest replacing a star, it was an exact replica of the original. I held it out to Monica, who had been sitting quietly, awestruck the entire time. She dipped a bit under the slight weight of the shield, but her smile went from ear to ear.

"I may be an enhanced soldier, but I'm no Captain America. They call me Warhawk." I said, turning my attention to Talos, "My job is to look out for the little guy. The ones who're stepped on and persecuted by those who believe they're superior. I'll do what I can to help you get the Kree off your tail."

"Thank you." Talos said, bowing his head slightly. The grandfather clock against the wall began to chime. It was late, midnight in fact, and going off of the original plan, we would be heading into space at dawn. We needed rest. After everyone figured out their sleeping arrangements, we bade each other goodnight. I began to make my way toward the living room couch, but a hand grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the stairs. I smiled when I saw that it was Carol dragging me toward one of the guest rooms upstairs.

As soon as we were behind closed doors, Carol's lips crashed on to mine. My hands immediately made their way into her hair, hers around my waist. My heart soared at the contact, at the thought that Carol and I were once again reunited after all those years. Her tongue darted out, running over my lower lip, asking for entrance. I complied, and together our tongues began to swirl and dance in an elegant battle for dominance. The Nine Inch Nails t-shirt that Carol was wearing suddenly became too restricting, as did the plain navy thermal I had on. Both were gone in an instant, tattered remains on the hardwood. She certainly didn't seem to mind that I ripped her shirt in half, discarding it lazily on the floor. If anything, the passion that had been recreated between us began to burn even brighter, as a soft glow began to break through my closed eyes. I pulled away gently, my eyes opening ever so slightly.

"You're glowing." I whispered huskily. It was a sight to behold, pale rays of blue, purple and gold light danced off her skin in a stunning array of color that lit up the dark bedroom in an elegant display. From a distance, she must have given off the appearance of a fallen star, but here, up close, she was a woman on fire; radiant, beautiful, powerful.

"I've dreamt about this moment. About us." She admitted quietly, setting her head in the crook of my neck, listening closely to the sound of my steadily beating heart, "But I couldn't remember who you were. I wanted to, so badly. Even if it was just your name... that would have been enough. At least then I would have one part of my life that I could still hold on to."

"Well, if it makes up for anything, it's been hell without you here." I replied, my hands shifting down to her waist, taking note of the muscle that she had put on in the years that she had been gone, how warm her skin felt beneath the pads of my fingertips, "Not a day went by when I didn't wish you were with me. Even before the crash, not being able to see you, not being able to hold you like this... it was torture unlike any other."

"I love you, Paige." She muttered tiredly.

I smiled, leading her to the queen-sized bed and pulling back the covers. I pressed another kiss to her lips, this one gentle, sweet and loving, but still filled with passion.

"I love you too, Carol."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dawn came earlier than I had hoped. But it came nonetheless, and with it came the mission at hand. Carol was still asleep, and rather than wake her up right away, I thought it best to let her rest. My trunk was still downstairs, my uniform and shield still with it, so I grabbed a spare shirt from the nearby dresser, slipped it on and ducked downstairs without a sound. When I got down there, Talos, Fury and Maria were already awake.

"She still asleep?" Maria asked me, handing me a steaming mug of coffee.

"Of course. That much certainly hasn't changed about her." I replied, taking the mug and grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl that sat on the dining room table. I turned to Fury, "So that new guy let you guys go, huh? What's his name again? Coleman?"

"Coulson." Fury corrected, "Yeah, looks like he's gonna be one hell of an agent. Already going against protocol, breaking the rules."

"Sounds like he learned from the best."

"Very funny."

"Not as funny as that time you wiped out trying to chase a couple of Soviet spies in Budapest in '91." I smirked. Fury didn't reply, he just glared at me and walked away. I polished off the coffee and the apple, grabbed my uniform and went back upstairs to change.

Sure enough, not only was Carol still asleep, but she had taken over my side of the bed, limbs sprawled out covering the entirety of the bed. I changed quickly and quietly before making my way over to her. I sat down on the bed next to her feet and shook her on the shoulder.

"You know, as adorable as you look right now, we have an entire alien race to save, so I'm gonna have to ask that you get your beautiful self out of bed."

"Fi mo ins." She grumbled into her pillow.

"Come again?"

She rolled over and groaned, "Five more minutes."

I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers, making her smile softly, "No can do, baby. We've got lives to save."

She sat up, meeting my lips lovingly on the way, then took a moment to drink in the sight before her.

"Nice outfit." She grinned, setting a hand on the hawk head on my chest, "It suits you."

"Thanks, beautiful. Now get dressed, we've gotta go."

Going to space was definitely something on my bucket list. Going to space to fight a technologically advanced race of aliens... not so much. But hey, how many opportunities was I gonna get to go to space? As I stood outside the stolen P.E.G.A.S.U.S. quadjet with Maria, Talos and Fury, who held Goose, a creature that looked like a cat, though Talos insisted she was a dangerous alien called a Flerken. I watched as Carol interacted with Monica, who had made sure to get herself out of bed before we left. She was fiddling with the color scheme of Carol's suit, before settling on the colors of the original Air Force logo.

"She's somethin', isn't she?" Fury asked me when he saw the way Carol suddenly locked eyes on me.

"Just somethin' doesn't do her justice, Fury. She's... amazing." I smiled, lifting my shield up and attaching it to the electromagnets on my back. I pulled out my Colt Mustang and checked the magazine. Six rounds, plus five additional magazines attached to my belt, perfect. Carol made her way over to the quadjet, wrapping an arm around my waist and leading the rest of us on board. We all took our seats, Maria and Carol in the pilots' chairs, Fury, Talos, Goose and I all behind them.

"Hope your science guy knows what he's doing." Fury muttered to Talos as the quadjet lifted off the ground. Talos grunted, his violet eyes staring straight ahead. After a minute or two, Carol spoke up.

"Passing five hundred and climbing."

"Maintain speed. Any change in speed will turn this old junker into a fireball in the atmosphere." I remarked, letting the familiar feeling of pressure wash over me as we climbed.

"You know you really shouldn't have that thing on your lap." Talos said to Fury, pointing at Goose who was lounging comfortably on Fury's legs.

"Our little alliance with you is tenuous at best." He replied, lifting Goose up and holding him out toward Talos, who shifted away uncomfortably, "And as long as she continues to freak you out, I'm gonna keep giving her all the love and hugs she needs."

I laughed, "Didn't know you were a cat person, Fury."

"Didn't know you were gay until yesterday, Mac. Looks like we're all learning something knew about each other."

"Guess so." I smirked, leaning back in my chair.

"Can I ask you something?" Maria asked, glancing over her shoulder to look at Talos, "Do you just turn into anything you want?"

"Ah, well, I have to see it first." The Skrull replied, surprised at the interest in his shapeshifting abilities.

"Can all of you do it?"

"Physiologically, yeah. But it takes practice, and, dare I say, talent, to do it well."

"Can you turn into a cat?" Fury asked him.

"What's a cat?"

"What about a filing cabinet?" Maria asked him.

Talos gave her a confused look, "Why... would I turn into a filing cabinet?"

"Oh! Venus flytrap! I'll give you fifty bucks right now if you turn into a venus flytrap." I smirked. Talos gave me an unamused look and I heard Carol chuckle under her breath in front of me.

"Switching engines from Scramjet to fusion." Carol announced, "Buckle up, folks."

The sudden shift in propulsion made me suck in a breath. The jet began to shake as we rose higher, everyone was pushed back in their seats. Fury began to grip the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

"Hey, is this normal, like space turbulence?" He asked over the sound of the roaring afterburners.

"Pretty much!" Carol called back to him. Talos looked over at him and then at me and shook his head slowly. Suddenly, the propulsion came to a stop, everything that wasn't strapped down to something, that included Goose, began to float from the lack of gravity. I held back an audible gasp as I looked out on the vast emptiness of space for the very first time. Something that seemed so dark, so endless, and so monotonous, and yet it still managed to take my breath away.

Maria switched on the artificial gravity and everything fell back into place as the jet came to a halt.

"Locking in coordinate grid." Carol said.

"Where is it?" I asked, seeing only the black void of space and a clouded corner of the western hemisphere.

"It's here," Talos muttered under his breath, "It's gotta be here."

"Well, is it in front of all that nothing, or behind it?" Fury asked him, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. I rolled my eyes as Carol pulled up a holographic computer from her wrist gauntlet and punched in a code.

Suddenly, the void wasn't a void anymore as a massive ship appeared out of nowhere. My mouth fell open as I beheld the sight before me. Totally worth getting only four hours of sleep. Carol navigated the jet easily into the central hangar, where, once everyone was out, we went over our plan one final time. I grabbed my shield, attaching it to the electromagnetic plates on my left arm and took a deep breath, following Talos as he took off running into the bowels of the ship.

#brie larson #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel #natasha romanov x reader #marveledit #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #bucky barns x reader #carol danvers x reader #black widow x reader #captain america x reader #captain marvel x you #original character #avengers fanfiction #fanfiction #avengers fandom

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 5 years

Note

oh god amnesia prompt got me tearing up here! beautifully written as always and i liked the hopeful ending! any chance there's more coming on it and lena remembering or them finding love again?

When Lex escapes Lena steps into Lex’s mansion, and it feels like coming home. She’s never lived there, at least not according to the memories she managed to hang on to, but the opulence reminds her of the family manor in Metropolis– right down to the portrait of her mother on the wall.

“I knew you’d come,” her brother says.

He turns from his thoughtful stance by the empty fireplace, and smiles at her with open arms. Lena feels the instant, reflexive pull towards him, but the lines around his eyes jar her enough to break the spell before she takes a single step.

He’s old. She should have expected it, between her missing years and the toll prison takes on any body. But until that moment, Lex has been in her mind as the young man she last remembers– untouched by time or woe.

“And you knew where to find me,” her brother continues. “I’m impressed.”

“Of course I did,” Lena utters finally, speaking at last. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere without seeing her, and where else could they meet but here, the one place on Earth unseen on any map, GPS, or even the naked eye. “Lex, they said you hurt people.”

Lex drops his gaze, lips pressing together. “I did. It was unfortunate, and unintentional. All I wanted was to protect the world, but they didn’t care. They wanted their pound of flesh, and they got it.”

“You’ll be in more trouble now that you’ve broken out,” Lena warns. Lex smiles.

“Are saying you’re not glad to see me?”

Lena finally caves, breaking into a wide smile as she surges into Lex’s arms. He receives her with a tight hug, so tight it makes her ribs creak. Tears spring unbidden to her eyes.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmurs. “I woke up, and I had your job, and you weren’t there to help… I was so scared…”

“I’m sorry, ace,” he returns. “You know I would have if I could.”

Lena nods. When she pulls back, she sees triumph in Lex’s smile. She blinks, eyes wide. “You’re leaving. Again.”

A broad, callused hand cups her cheek. “You can come with me this time, ace. Neither of us were meant to lead the world apart. Come with me, and we can do all the things we ever planned.”

“But– they’ll be looking for you! And Supergirl–”

“I still have friends,” comes the gentle reply. “Fewer, now, but still powerful enough to keep me off the grid. In places even Superman can’t reach.”

Lena hesitates. “Supergirl is… tenacious. You shouldn’t underestimate her.”

“I assure you I have not,” Lex says. “But even she won’t be able to breach Kasnian airspace without putting a dozen international treaties at risk.”

A spark of recognition blooms at the back of Lena’s mind, flaring bright and hot before fading just as quickly. “Kasnia… Dad knew a general there. General… General– damn it, I can’t remember…”

“General Starikov,” Lex provides with a proud grin. “Yes, he did, and I inherited him. And I promise you, Lena, he has a weapon as powerful as Supergirl herself. Come with me, and we can make history, just the way Dad always said we would. We’ll be untouchable.”

Lena nods, a smile curling her lips. “He did always say that. There’s so much I don’t remember, but I do remember that.”

“You’re wasted at LuthorCorp, ace. I was too. There’s so much we can do without the constraints of bureaucracy. We can rewrite the rules of science, carry the world into the next technological age.” He cups her face, looking deep into her eyes. “Say you will, please.”

Lena closes her eyes, savoring the contact. The earnestness of Lex’s voice. He’s never needed her. Never wanted her, not like this.

“There’s something else Dad always used to say,” Lena says softly. Her hand lifts, closing gently around Lex’s wrist. “Do you remember what it was?”

“Dad said a lot of things, ace.”

Lena lets her eyes blink open, and looks him dead in the eye.

“Trust no one.”

Her grip tightens, and on cue a hypodermic needle springs from her ring and pierces his skin, delivering a painless, fast-acting paralytic. His hands grip her face painfully tight, then go slack as his muscles relax.

Lena eases him to the floor, then smirks as he stares up at her, gaping like a codfish.

“You didn’t honestly think I wouldn’t look up the court transcripts, did you?” she delivers coolly. She smirks. “I could disbelieve the shareholders, the news, even Supergirl– they never cared for us much anyway, did they? But I couldn’t very well dismiss my own testimony, could I.”

“You, you–” Lex gasps. The neurotoxin works quickly. Before long, he won’t even be able to keep his eyes open.

“And to think I’d come here unprepared. I may be missing a few years, but I remember clearly how you deal with your personal traitors.”

Lena reaches under her shirt and removes the wire she’d been wearing. She switches it off, then lets it dangle from her hand. “I did forget Starikov’s name though, so thanks for that.”

“Supergirl corrupted you–”

“Supergirl is a means to an end,” Lena cuts in, giving a shrug of her eyebrows. She glances at her watch– the FBI would be here soon, if they weren’t already.

“What– end–?” Lex gasps.

Lena shrugs. “I haven’t decided.” With a small grin, she leans in close as though to kiss his cheek, but instead whispers directly into his ear. “But I’m sure I’ll figure it out before I have her naked in my bed tonight.”

Oh– the fury and disgust in Lex’s eyes are sweet as the FBI starts pouring in, but it’s his impotence that lingers on her tongue like a fine wine.

Lena steps back when agents move in with medics and handcuffs. She surrenders the wire and her ring into evidence, and endures the debrief that follows. It takes hours, but in the end, Lex is back in custody, his voice on record condemns him further, and now they have the Kasnian lead the DEO was angling for.

She doesn’t see Kara again until she steps into their apartment late that night. Just as she promised Lex, the hero is relaxed and naked in her bed, setting aside her laptop as Lena stands in the doorway, drinking in the scene.

“Everything went well, I take it?” Kara asks, pushing her glasses up onto her head. Lena nods. “I wasn’t worried in the slightest.”

Lena draws her gaze up Kara’s bare legs, over groin and up to her bare chest. “I can see that.”

“C'mere, Miss Espionage.”

Lena kicks off her heels and slinks towards the bed, hitching up her skirt to straddle Kara’s chest. She runs her fingers through soft blonde hair, and moans when Kara’s hands work their way under her blouse to knead soft skin.

“So… what end did you have in mind, Miss Luthor?” Supergirl murmurs, craning her neck to kiss the inside of Lena’s forearm.

So she’d been listening after all.

“I can think of a few,” she replies smoothly. She leans down to capture Kara’s lips.

Kara smiles against her mouth. “Then let’s get started.”

—-

In the small hours of the night, Lena lies awake in Kara’s arms. Her thoughts feel heavy, when she should be giddy with victory.

Kara rolls to sling an arm around Lena’s waist, pressing a kiss to a bare shoulder. “I can hear you thinking.”

“Lex was so surprised,” Lena whispers. She rubs her dry, tired eyes with one hand. “It makes me wonder if she would have been as ruthless.”

‘She’ is the Lena she once was, the Lena she never seemed to fit back into. Their friends had accepted her gladly, expecting nothing and granting warm, solid support as she rediscovered how to be. She feels normal, but there are moments when the others share a glance that Lena knows she’s still new.

Will always be new.

“I don’t know if she would have been as cruel about that last orgasm,” Kara offers with a soft huff of a silent chuckle, “but to recapture her homicidal brother? Absolutely.”

Lena rolls to face her, and takes comfort from the honesty she finds in Kara’s eyes.

“There was never a question about how smart, or devious, or ruthless you could be, Lena. The only question was how you would use it. And that,” she promises with a kiss to the tip of Lena’s nose, “was never a doubt in my mind.”

(Prompts are closed)

#prompt fill #amnesia follow up #supercorp #lena luthor #lex luthor #kara danvers #supergirl #remember that this prompt is from six months ago #I'm just really bad at filling them #sorry it took so long #but im kinda glad it did #because now we have lex to work with #and this was juicy af

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forcebaby732 · 6 years

Text

Together Part1

Rey stood over Ben Solo’s prone body on the jungle battle ground floor. Holding his lightsaber, protecting him as rebel and first order forces surrounded them in the damp clearing, both sides aiming their weapons at the pair.

How had it come to this?

The ambush came as they met to negotiate a truce. General Hux had apparently methodically planned a coup. Figuring out Ren’s role in the Supreme Leader’s death, he waited for Kylo to descend and stand alone with Rey before ordering his forces to open fire.

And seemingly, in a communicae to rebellion forces, Hux had convinced them that Rey had been plotting with Ren the entire time, leading them to their doom.

“Is it true Rey!?” Poe had shouted in her ear, “Are you with this bastard!?”

“It’s not like that… he’s changed…” she shouted into the com. There was a struggle and then a new voice on the other end… “Admiral Poe has been relieved of duty. Traitor Rey, stand aside or you will be destroyed with the enemy.”

There was no time to explain to intricacies of what happened between her and Ben and Leader Snoke. No time to explain the passionate and sincere force bond moments since where she witnessed the light pouring back into Ben’s heart. There was no time, no Leia to vouch for her, no hope of escape.

And now here she stood, looking down the barrels of weapons from both sides, Ben wounded and unconscious beneath her. There was no way she was leaving his side.

Rey grit her teeth, gripping the long black hilt with all her might, SENSING the impending barrage.

NO, IT CAN’T END THIS WAY! She thought fiercely, NOT AFTER EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH!

A well of emotion surged forth from a deep dark place. A fury at the injustice of it all, just as he was coming back to the light, just as there was hope they could do something together, just as she had discovered the belonging she had sought her ENTIRE life, No, NO “NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!”

Rey screamed, arms stretched out, the force screaming along with her, raging ferociously through the clearing as the bombardment of blaster fire rained upon them. The ground cracked, the earth quaked, the air roared as she repelled the blasts around their bodies.

The intensity of the rage of the force finally woke Ben. Gasping and jumping at the deafening explosions, he quickly understood their situation. He had just a fraction of a moment to stare in unadulterated awe at the monstrosity of her power, standing over him, repelling an army alone, to save him, to save them…and suddenly he tapped into that same feeling, snapping into that power, of that desperation to have her, that desperation for the sense of peace and belonging they could share, he felt his power swelling to join hers. Her protective sphere repelling fire was shrinking, Ben grasped her ankle, and flung out his other hand, lending his strength to her and screamed out into the force.

It was as if time stood still. Their energies in perfect harmony, enveloping and reinforcing each other, light and dark. They saw visions of the universe…visions of the future and of the past…channeling the energy of all that is and was. It was almost like everything became simple, easy to deconstruct, effortless and pure. Ben and Rey held each other’s gaze, knowing together was always right.

The blaster fire, now not only repelled aside, but was returned from whence it came. Troops fled the onslaught returned to them. Finally the cry went out on both sides, “CEASE FIRE, CEASE FIRE, FALL BACK!!”

It was their only chance to escape. Ben lept to his feet, just as Rey collapsed from exhaustion. He only just caught her before she crumpled to the ground.

"Rey!" he called in a panicked voice. But there was no time to lose. He scooped her up to his chest and set off at a run towards the marshy groves, kicking up as much dust and other cover that he could as he ran.

He sloshed through swamp water and vines, there was little significant cover to hide behind. It was only a matter of time before the troops followed.

Then up on some slightly elevated drier ground he spotted a giant tree, with a cascade of vine like branches hanging down over what looked like a hollowed opening.

He could hear the boot crashing through trees behind him, the orders called one to another and the clink of trooper armor. His wounded head and shoulder would not let him outrun them. He made for that tree....and thank the Force there was enough room for both of them to huddle inside.

Brute strength was not going to save them this time. Ben laid an unconscious Rey gently down against the bark interior, then sat cross legged in a meditation position.

Fingers pointed before him in focus, Ben closed his eyes and reached out for the energy of the tree...

Outside the troopers approached.

"All eyes front, they're not far."

A trio was just feet away from the giant tree's opening.

"Shoot to kill on sight"

Now only steps away.

"Watch your flanks. Not all the rebels have fled. They could set an ambush"

A white helmet peers directly through the vines at Ben and Rey in the tree.

"Copy that. Nothing here. Advance."

And they part around the tree like water, like they could not see it at all.

Ben was using all his focus to compel the weaker, impressionable minds to see nothing but shrubbery. This would have to do for now.

...

An hour passes. Then two. Night begins to fall on this jungle world, bringing out all the things that slither and crawl. Several more contingents have gone by, all the while Ben maintained his protective meditation.

Rey stirred slowly back to consciouslness. First she noticed her head was resting on something rather hard and it was putting a kink in her neck. Then she noticed the absolutely pulsating soreness she felt over her entire being...why did she hurt so much?

"Ben," she whispered weakly, instinctively.

He immediately snapped out of his concentration and was by her side.

It all came flooding back to her then. The betrayal, the hell fire, Ben!

"BEN!" She shouted, terrified eyes flying open, as she jolted into his waiting arm.

"Rey, shhh, it's ok, we're ok," he crooned in his deep voice.

"Ben!" She cried more quietly, hands clinging to his shirtsleeves, head buried in his chest. And she just cried, letting out some of the firestorm of emotion they'd just gone through. And he held her and let her cry, having only ever dreamed of holding her this way in person. They clung more tightly to each other in a tender and desperate embrace.

He kissed the top of her head and she hiccuped a sob and that's how they spent the next hour, listening for enemies and relishing the warmth of each other's embrace, cherishing the feel, the smell, the heat, the feeling of wholeness that neither had felt their entire lives.

Ben was first to break the spell.

"We have to get out of here. We're not safe yet."

Rey nodded finally peering into the depth of his brown beckoning eyes. Stars what a beautiful man.

"Where do we go? They probably took the Falcon."

"My command shuttle should be ahead past the swamp. Hux stayed behind on the Supremacy, so there shouldn't be many people aboard it, a few lieutenants and troopers."

"But we only have one light saber between us."

Ben actually smirked at this.

"And it's all the light saber we'll need."

...

Though still weak, Rey was able to make her way through the jungle with Ben, dodging search parties as they went.

Once near the command shuttle Ben used some hefty flying boulders to make quick work of the troopers standing guard.

She gave him a look that said "really?" and he just shrugged with innocent eyes, as if to say, "what? it worked," waving her forward.

On board a handful of commanders were broadcasting orders.

"Have them search the north east quadrant again. Supreme Commander Hux won't let us leave until we find and verifiably kill Kylo Ren."

"Oh. Here I am" came a flat berritone voice.

Incredulous and terrified officers slowly turned to face....oh crap.

In the instant they reached for their weapons, they were already flying, thrown against walls and floors and ceilings.

A moment later, five flailing officers went flying down the command shuttle ramp.

"Punch it!" Ben shouted to Rey as she ran for the controls and began lift sequence. He ran to stand by her chair when behind them...

"Sorry sir, had to run to the privy, the jungle water is not agreeing...with......me"

Ben and Rey looked at the poor, screwed officer.

But as Ben took one step towards him he threw up his arms, "wait wait wait wait!"

Ben halts.

The officer makes a gesture towards the still open ramp... and promptly throws himself out of the slowly rising shuttle.

Smart man.

The doors close and Ben and Rey are left looking incredulously at each other....a moment passes and then......"hah"

"Hahah"

"Muahahhahahaha!!!"

Impossible laugher escapes them both. Rey looks at Bens face, Ben's true to God laughing face, and it's like looking at another person entirely. She doesn't recognize this man, that booming guffaw, the tears of amusement in his eyes. In that moment he looks like a son of Han and Leia, handsome and true. Rey vows to make sure that smile never fades again.

They're laughing is sadly, abruptly interrupted. The hull shutters and they stumble. Blaster shots.

"We're not out of the woods yet," he booms.

Scrambling back to the controls they raise the shields, crank the large slow shuttle as sharply as it would go and hit it into hyperdrive, blowing the light fighters away.

....

Star light flying by them, Rey and Ben stare at each other across the controls. Breathing heavy, adrenaline pumping, and just staring, staring.

There was no rush, they finally had time, to take in and memorize each other's features, the thrill of their escape fresh in their hearts.

Eyes boring into each other's souls. Breathing and staring. What had they done, where were they going? None of it mattered any more.

Ben stood first, then Rey, but earnest as she was her legs gave out beneath her. Ben caught her against his chest.

"You're spent. You almost killed yourself through the effort. You need to rest."

She couldn't argue.

Ben wrapped a hand around her waist, supporting her weight as he led her back to his sleeping quarters.

He laid her down, slipping off her shoes, pulling silky black sheets over her, and sitting by her bedside on the floor, heads at eyes level to each other. It was a gesture so remincent of Finn's tenderness towards Rose that tears were instantly in Rey's eyes. She remembered thinking she'd never have something so caring and simple with the man she...

"You love me." She said simply. It wasn't a question.

She saw ripples of shock and something like fear and uncertainty run across his face. No wonder he wore a mask, he was an open book of emotion. His face settled on calm determination.

"And you...." he said a little shakily, and low, "you too," be said, perhaps a little uncomfortable with the word love just yet, but obviously denying nothing.

Their faces inches apart, his eyes an ocean of emotion, Rey couldn't contain herself any longer. She used all her remaining strength to push up on her elbows and lean into his face, their breaths shuttering, her movements jilted, she lands a chaste kiss on his luscious lips.

She pulls back a moment later and they're both struggling to breath, both new at this, both awkward.

It was Ben's turn to lean in, taking one more bracing breath, eyes open he reclaimed her lips pushing her head back on the pillow. Slowly, gently, they relax into it. His eyes close. They share the tenderest of expiramental kisses, mouths opening slightly now, fire growing in Ben's belly... when he pulls back and sees...

Rey just couldn't help it, her body and mind spent, his warm gentle kiss lulls her right to sleep.

He has to laugh. She looks so peaceful. His angel. His queen. His.

Ben grabs an extra pillow and blanket, laying on the floor beside her, determine to never be alone again.

PART 2: https://jamiegallantworld.tumblr.com/post/169602958839/together-part2

#reylo fan fiction #reylo #reylo fanfic #star wars love #star wars fan fiction #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #rey x kylo ren #kylo redemption #kylo x rey #episode ix #tlj #the last jedi

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familyassembled · 7 years

Text

The Way You Look Tonight (2/2)

Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, various

Captain Rogers has a very special request for Jarvis, which brings up some uncomfortable feelings.

part one

“Jarvis?”

The door was ajar, but Steve knocked on it anyway. “I’m afraid I’ll be unavailable to you for the rest of the day, Captain Rogers,” said Jarvis, moving to push the door shut. “I’ll send you a list of suitable venues in the morning.”

“You know there’s a whole gym full of punching bags downstairs,” Steve said, putting his foot in the door. “I could show you. It might be easier than--” He looked around the sparse room--bare walls, bare tables, and the desk, in the corner of the room. There was a letter open on it. “This.”

“I’m aware of the on site facilities, yes,” Jarvis said, flexing his hand before balling it into a fist. There was a subtle shift that made Steve narrow his eyes and study the other man. “However, I doubt Miss Carter would appreciate a proposal surrounded by gym equipment.”

He finally looked up, and must have noticed Steve’s attention, because in an instant he’d returned to normal, his hand once again lax at his side as whatever else had been there was swept aside. Steve shook his head, deciding not to press that at the moment. “I’m not here to talk about Peggy.”

“Then I’ll bid you goodnight.”

“That’s it? After tearing Stark apart, that’s all I get?”

“It has nothing to do with you, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis told him in a hard tone that Steve decided to ignore, pushing the rest of the way into the room instead.

“That’s a lot of bitterness and anger you’re holding onto, Jarvis. I get it, I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to let it lie.”

“You wouldn’t--”

“I wouldn’t what?” Steve cut in. “Understand what it’s like to lose the person you love more than anything in the blink of an eye? To have to move through the world when it doesn’t have her, to need to throw a punch and go after the nearest target? Yeah, I think I do.”

Mr. Jarvis gave him a careful look.

“Look, I know probably better than anyone here what you’re going through, including wanting to break Stark’s nose,” Steve sighed. “And it’ll eat you up if you don’t have backup. You’re the one that told Peggy that.”

“Yes, I did,” Jarvis said, looking down at his desk again. “But it would appear that Miss Carter is...otherwise occupied at present.”

Steve blinked.

...oh.

“You think I’m taking her away.”

Mr. Jarvis swallowed, and looked at his hands. “Things are as they should be. She’s happier than I’ve ever known her to be.”

“You said yes, though, when I asked for your help. Why?”

“You said it yourself, Captain. Miss Carter deserves the best.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. He liked Mr. Jarvis. It wasn’t just anyone Peggy trusted, after all, and he’d been there--according to Peggy, sometimes he’d been the only one there--when Peggy needed someone to trust during the year Steve was gone.

“If you know her as well as I think you do,” Steve said. “Then you know she doesn’t just walk away from her friends, and I’m not going to do anything to change that. I wouldn’t want to.”

“All due respect, Captain Rogers, but I fail to see how any of this is your concern.”

“That’s just it, I am concerned. This is a dark road your heading down, if your outburst back there is any indication--”

“It’s none of your concern,” Jarvis repeated, a razor edge to his voice. “I’m not about to take another man’s pity, Captain America or not.”

“It’s not about pity,” Steve snapped. “Losing someone that important, that’s not something to pity. That’s something to sympathize with, something to--”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Jarvis snapped, standing and heading for the door.

“You didn’t ask anyone else, either,” Steve shot back.

“For what?” Jarvis demanded, spinning around to him. “To listen to me wax maudlin in the late hours, to hold my hand and tell me it’ll be alright? How will that help? Because the fact is, Captain Rogers, it won’t be alright. No one is coming with a time machine to bring my lost love back. So you’ll have to excuse me if I find your ability to sympathize a bit hard to swallow.”

“Jarvis--”

“I had one good thing left, in a form I never expected, and now--” He stopped, taking a deep breath. “Now she has more important things to worry about, or will shortly. That’s the fact of it, and something I’m learning to deal with, so I’d prefer you not attempt to derail that progress simply to make yourself feel better for taking care of the poor widower.”

Steve nodded a little as several things became clearer. It made sense why Jarvis all but ignored him if they weren’t talking about proposal plans, it wasn’t about any sort of friendship between them...it was Jarvis’s last farewell to Peggy.

“You know that radio recording, the one from the movie?” he asked quietly, and Jarvis frowned at the apparent non sequitur. “I dunno how Tony’s mom managed it, or maybe his dad. But those were my last words to Peggy. That was supposed to be it. I was going to down in...a blaze of glory. Well, not so much a blaze, little too icy for that. The point is, that was supposed to be it. We both knew it. It was our goodbye, even if we never said it. And then I woke up to a world completely changed, alive...but I still missed our date. By about seventy years. It’s not the same, I know it’s not. And yeah, I’m...beyond happy that I got her back. But that doesn’t change how incredibly angry I’ve been at...everyone. At Fury for finding me, at myself for surviving, at Peggy for disappearing and at Howard, for all his genius, not being able to find me before she was gone. I was furious at the world for being so stupidly inconsiderate, taking away everything I had, everyone I cared about and the world I knew, and not being kind enough to let me go too. So you can be as angry as you want, I’m not gonna stop you. But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to quit reminding you that there’s still people around. The ‘one good thing’ you have left is still here, and I’m not going to be the one to take her away, because as much as it might confuse you, she needs her relationship with you just as much as you do. As much as she needs me. Probably more, really, cause she’ll need someone she can complain to when I inevitably screw something up.”

“She can complain rather boisterously,” Jarvis agreed, and Steve snorted. “You know, when I told her that...she was dodging bullets and implosions and...incredibly ineffectual and disrespectful coworkers. I’m just...a bit lost, which is quite a different thing.”

“You really think she’d say that?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes. “Cause I don’t. I think she’d call you a fool for even thinking that. And, personally, I’d agree.”

“I’m glad to hear you think so highly of me, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis said, but there was a hint of smile at the corners of his mouth.

Still, Steve was serious when he replied, “I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”

“You know I’m quite certain Anna would have agreed with you as well,” Jarvis told him, and Steve went still. Jarvis never offered up information about his wife, not without prompting. “She often claimed I was...overly sentimental. But I’m fairly certain she didn’t mind, because she’d smile when she said it. She had...the most beautiful smile. And there are times...when I can’t help but think about the fact that I’m never going to see her smile again...and I can’t breathe.”

Jarvis looked down quickly, but not before Steve caught the tell-tale brightness of his eyes. He reached out, clasping the other man’s shoulder firmly, and Jarvis took a shaky breath.

“My apologies--”

“Don’t do that,” Steve told him. “Don’t apologize for that. There isn’t anyone here who would fault you for missing someone you love that much. There isn’t anyone here who hasn’t lost anyone they loved.”

Jarvis nodded, then took another deep breath. “I’ll take that under advisement, Captain Rogers. But if it’s all the same, I’d really rather not talk about this anymore just now.”

“Sure,” Steve said, taking a step back.

“I do...appreciate your efforts.”

“Anytime, Jarvis. Really.” Steve glanced around, wondering for a moment what to do with himself. He wasn’t totally ready to leave Jarvis alone, but was at a loss for what else to say now.

“Captain Rogers,” Jarvis said, saving him from having to come up with a random topic for discussion that wasn’t painful. Steve looked back at him, humming in question. “Remind me...you said you missed your date with Miss Carter…”

***

Peggy didn’t know whether or not to be proud or exasperated.

Spies though they were not, Steve and Mr. Jarvis excelled at being frustratingly vague about their not-entirely-secret plans. She’d caught them whispering in corners, only to jump guiltily apart when they noticed her. She’d seen them tossing each other sidelong glances, and heard them cease whispered conversation whenever she entered a room. She’d even caught them passing notes like schoolchildren once, but never had she been able to glean even a single clue as to what they were after.

She could’ve had it out of them if she’d really wanted, she supposed, but they were so earnest.

It seemed akin to spoiling a child’s birthday present.

It was nearly two months later when she arrived back at her small room to find three things laid neatly on the bed: a red dress, a pair of shoes, and a handwritten note that said Ground floor. Eight o’clock on the dot.

Peggy glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past six.

The handwriting on the note was Steve’s; the dress was almost certainly Natasha’s doing. The shoes were red and heeled and made for dancing, and when she checked, precisely her size.

Well. What were they up to?

An hour later, Peggy was running a hand over her hair, adjusting a bobby pin here and there and smoothing imaginary wrinkles from the dress. There was a fluttery anticipation in her stomach, a sort of not-quite-nervousness that kept curling her mouth into a smile. This - was different. She’d had two years of dancing around Steve, quiet smiles and almost-kisses and his particular brand of awkward flirting. There had been muddy battlefields, the smell of blood on the air, and courting loss almost as much as each other. Two years of knowing what they were, and would be eventually, and waiting for a dance that never came.

Then, six months of being properly his--of his unguarded smile when she entered a room, and the way he didn’t seem to believe his luck when he realized that he could kiss her anytime he liked, now. These days they had whole afternoons with nothing to do, where he dragged her through New York by the hand just to show her something else that had changed, or something that hadn’t. There were even a few slow, sleepy mornings, with Steve’s breath leaving a shivery warmth against the back of her neck as she woke, his arm thrown across her stomach as he slept.

And now this.

It was half past seven before she was ready to go, and another twenty minutes spent fidgeting before she finally decided to descend the stairs.

At 7:50, Peggy stepped out of the glass doors to the tower to find a sleek, black car waiting on the street. It didn’t look to be one of Tony’s cars--in fact, if she’d been able to wager a guess, it looked like something more out of her time. When the front door opened, she half expected to see Mister Jarvis scrambling to open the door for her, but instead a red head ducked out of the driver’s seat, and Natasha, in a sharp chauffeur’s uniform, grinned at her and moved to open her door.

“Natasha, what on Earth…?”

The other woman smirked, but there was real warmth and just a bit of mischief behind it. She pulled the door open, and gestured for Peggy to climb inside.

“I heard you had a date,” she said. “Thought you might need a ride.”

***

It was a feeling Peggy was slowly getting used to, that eerie sense of knowing where she was, but not. As they wound their way through the streets of New York City, she did have the peculiar feeling that this route was something that ought to be familiar to her, but for the life of her she couldn’t place it.

“This is your stop, lady,” said Natasha, pulling to a stop. She grinned at Peggy in the rearview mirror. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Natasha,” said Peggy, as she reaching for the door handle. “I’m not sure that’s even possible.”

It was nothing like what she expected.

The car was stopped outside a small urban park nestled between two other buildings, with vines creeping up the walls on either side, and two rows of small trees surrounded by tables and chairs. Small fairy lights decorated the trees, and everywhere the faint noise of rushing water, because at the very back of the park stood what appeared to be a giant, man-made waterfall, lit from the back and giving off a soft, yellow glow.

The entire thing was fenced in by a small gate, giving the impression that she was looking at something out of a fairy story. It took Peggy a full thirty seconds of staring to realize that Mister Jarvis stood next to the gate.

“I’m surprised, Mister Jarvis,” said Peggy as she approached, taking in everything around her, “that your ear is still attached to your head.”

“I was motivated,” he said dryly, reaching for the door handle. “I’ve this very stubborn friend, you see. Very difficult to surprise.”

“Sounds like an absolute menace.” Peggy said, tilting her head.

“You’ve no idea.”

They chuckled for a moment, and then he shook his head.

“You weren’t fooled.”

“Oh I knew you were up to something, Mister Jarvis,” she shrugged off her coat, and without asking, he took it from her arm. “I’ve still no idea what.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards in the slightest of smiles as he pulled the gate open.

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Carter.”

***

Every glance caught something new: the glimmer of candles on some of the most distant tables, a soft melody coming from somewhere she couldn’t place, and at the very back, a long silhouette she’d know anywhere, facing towards the waterfall.

Her feet carried her towards him automatically. He had to have heard her, but still he didn’t turn.

“What is this place?” she murmured.

“It’s the Stork Club,” said Steve. He turned then, and smiled softly; Peggy’s breath caught in her throat. “Or it used to be.”

Oh, Steve.

He was waiting in his dress uniform. In all these months of adjusting to newer and more relaxed everything, of t-shirts and blue jeans and a world that prized comfort, Peggy had almost forgotten what a figure he cut in sharp, pressed army green. Silhouetted against the backdrop of the lit waterfall, with his face caught in candlelight, Peggy’s stomach fluttered and twisted.

“Steve, this is--”

“Only seventy years too late,” he said, swallowing hard and looking up at her earnestly. He reached out a hand. “But I said I’d be here.”

Peggy’s eyes burned. “Oh, darling--”

She took his hand, and he tugged her close.

“I still don’t know how,” he murmured.

She tucked her head underneath Steve’s chin, and moved his hand to her waist. “I’ll teach you.”

Peggy let her eyes fall shut, and they danced.

True to his promise seventy years before, in the beginning, the music was slow. Her senses were full of him: the faint smell of soap and aftershave, the wool of his jacket against her cheek, and the way his fingers strayed from her hip, sometimes, to draw idle patterns on her side as they moved together.

Whether by design or happy accident, a few faster numbers did make their way onto the speaker, and Peggy found herself laughing and smiling through dancing lessons. Steve, ever the determined student, only stepped on her toes a time or two before he got hang of it, and by the time half an hour had passed it might’ve been 1945, for all she knew or cared.

“You’re quite the dancer, Captain,” she said when he twirled her against him, flush with the cold night air and faint exertion. “You’ve not been holding out on me, have you?

“No ma’am,” he responded. “I’ve just had a very good teacher.”

She reached up to pull his head down next to hers, sliding her fingers up his arms to his shoulders, her fingers playing at the skin at his collar. A slow smile spread across her face as she watched him shudder--it was a small, secret thing she’d learned about him these last months, a thing only she knew, and she delighted in it.

“Peggy--”

“Captain Rogers,” Peggy said in a conspiratorial tone, leaning close. “Just now I could think of better uses for your mouth than talking.”

A few more idle sweeps of her fingers along his hairline and she was sure she had him; he sucked in a breath and she felt his fingertips brush her jaw as he leaned forward--but just as soon he was there he was gone again, reaching around the back of his neck for her hands.

“You’re distracting me,” he laughed, pulling her arms from around his neck and holding her hands between them. “This is important.”

She might’ve frowned (it was not, as Steve would later claim, a pout, she did not pout) because he scrambled for an explanation.

“I brought you here to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“It’s, uh,” Steve cast his eyes towards the ground. “It’s a pretty big anything.”

It was only then that she noticed that Steve’s pulse raced underneath his wrist, and that his skin was faintly pink under the light from the waterfall.

“Steve?”

“You remember that night in the pub?” he asked, looking down at their joined hands. “The one after Bucky died?”

That was an odd change of tone. Peggy examined him worriedly, but he only seemed lost in memory.

She relaxed a bit when she saw him smile.

“I never had much, you know. Just Mom and Bucky. And then, you know--lost Mom while I was at school, so when Bucky died I didn’t have…anything. Except you were there, when you didn’t have to be, and you told me I wasn’t alone.

“I, uh.” He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers again. “That’s when I knew.”

She frowned again, shaking her head a little in confusion. “Knew what?”

“That I wanted to marry you.”

She knew it was going to happen a beat before his hand slid into his pocket, half a second before he folded one of her hands into his, and bent, on one knee, in front of her. Peggy’s whole body flushed warm at the look on his face--wide-eyed, reverent, and just a little bit terrified--as well as the ring nestled in the box he’d popped open--a gorgeous but not ostentatious solitaire set in a band of white gold or platinum.

“Oh--”

“One of the first times we ever talked I told you, uh,” he sniffed, and Peggy squeezed the hand she was holding. “I told you I was waiting. I just--I need you to know it was you I was waiting for, and that I’m it--I mean, not me, that you’re it, you’re -”

Peggy let out a wet laugh, running her thumb over the knuckles of his hand. “Ask me the question, Steve.”

He looked up at her, so earnest it made her heart ache.

“Peggy, will you marry me?”

She sank down to her knees beside him, in a park where The Stork Club had once been, and laid her forehead against his.

“Yes,” she said, and the word broke on a smile. “Absolutely yes.”

Steve beamed at her as he slipped the ring on her finger, then tipped her head back--and then they found uses for their mouths other than talking.

***

Edwin made his way to the gym again after ensuring Miss Carter found Steve successfully. He’d found himself there a few times in the past months when he felt his hold becoming precarious. On the front, the medics had said that the worst injuries were ones you couldn’t feel anymore. He supposed that could likely be translated to mental health as well, but after weeks of feeling like an exposed nerve, the emotional numb that had taken over had been a blessing. If he could only get it to stick.

He understood that Miss Carter and Captain Rogers had no intention of leaving. He didn’t really harbor any lingering bitterness toward Steve--then again, he hadn’t been really aware of how much there’d been before the captain had brought it up, so who could say.

The point was, he was happy for Miss Carter, that she was getting the things she so richly deserved with a man who’d proven more than worthy of her. But it didn’t stop the feeling from coming on that his skin didn’t fit quite right over his bones once he was alone again, or the images of unending isolation in one form or another.

Whatever he’d had in 1946, every relationship he’d counted on, was changed or gone, and there was nothing he could do about that. There was, however, something he could do to a punching bag.

Tonight, however, it wasn’t proving to be the distraction it had. It took several minutes for him to realize it hadn’t been anyone here who drove him to a physical outlet, but the person who wasn’t. He kept thinking of the crisp morning air, high above the city, the colors of the sunrise bleeding into the sky; of blue eyes shining brighter than any diamond could hope to achieve, of laughter songbirds envied, of soft whispered words of love that had been branded on his heart.

He was dimly aware of his punches becoming more purposefully violent, but he didn’t have it in him to care. That morning, they’d promised each other forever, but now it was nearly six months to the day that she’d been gone. ‘Until death do us part’ had come entirely too soon, as it turned out, and Edwin wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being angry about it. It was a fire that burned him constantly from the inside out, present even when the numbing depression acted as a weak insulator. Tonight, he felt the the flames licking at every nerve ending, and black hate at the loss and the man he’d blame until the day he died choking him--

He stepped back from the bag suddenly, drawing a harsh breath into lungs that burned as his control fractured. His head snapped up at a small noise nearby, and he made an effort to reign himself in when he saw Clint watching him warily.

“Thought I might find you down here,” the other man said in an easy tone. “Cap popping the question to Peggy and all.”

“How did you--Natasha,” Edwin realized. “I was under the impression that she was rather good at keeping things to herself.”

“Oh, she is,” Clint said conversationally, wandering closer and reaching for the athletic tape. “She can hold out under pretty much any torture devised. I have some...unconventional methods for getting information out of her.”

“Noted,” Edwin said, arching a brow. “Although I’d wager a guess that it’s more to do with you.”

Clint shrugged. “Depends on her mood. You okay?”

“Fine,” Edwin said, looking down at his hands and willing them to stop shaking. He sniffed and lifted one to tug his ear. “I’m quite happy for Captain Rogers and Miss Carter.”

When the other man stayed quiet, Edwin looked up again to find Clint watching him, head tilted to one side. After a moment, he shook his head with a click of his tongue.

“Just because you want to believe it doesn’t make it less of a lie,” he said, moving past Edwin. “If I was you, I’d be punching a lot more than a bag.” He leaned to the side, stretching, but straightened again with a sigh when he glanced back at Edwin. “It’s a shitty situation, and no one can fix it. Being pissed that time doesn’t stop, that people can still find ways to be happy when you’re miserable, that nothing you do changes the fact that she left, it sucks, but it’s natural. So toast your friends, because they deserve it, but don’t lie to me. You deserve that.”

Several things struck Edwin from this speech. For one, he was positive it was the most words he’d heard Agent Barton string together at one time in six months of knowing him. Two, there was an odd relief in being told not to lie about not being happy. Finally…the words “she left” echoed in his mind. His wife didn’t leave, but he realized that Clint probably hadn’t even noticed the slip.

In any case, Edwin didn’t relish the idea of being alone with his ghosts again, even while fire still burned through his veins.

“I wonder, Agent Barton,” he said slowly, “if I might still be able to take you up on that offer for...tips.”

***

Part of the planning had involved reserving a room at a nearby hotel to go to after the proposal, if it all went to script. Steve just didn’t want to share her right away, and if the predatory look she’d given him as she stripped him of his dress uniform was any clue, it was the right call to make.

(Predatory Peggy made a run for top spot in his favorite flavors of her, but then his favorite flavor of Peggy tended to be whichever one was kissing him at the moment.)

In the morning, he made rainbows dance around the room when the light caught the diamond on her hand, and she giggled between moans.

(Giggling Peggy became his new favorite immediately, because that flavor meant that she was truly, undeniably happy.)

“Eventually, we’ll have to return to the real world,” Peggy murmured as checkout time beared down on them, but her fingers still combed lazily through his hair.

“As far as I’m concerned, the real world can wait until after the honeymoon,” he told her without opening his eyes, and smiled a little when the giggle found it’s way to her lips again.

“To get to the honeymoon, we have to plan a wedding.”

“There’s a courthouse two blocks away. Give me twenty minutes.”

The giggle gave way to a laugh, then, and she pushed at his shoulder playfully. “You’re not getting off that easy.” She turned serious when he opened his eyes, and he reached toward her to brush the hair back from her face. “After everything...this is something I want to celebrate.”

“Me too,” he replied, kissing her quickly. “Alright, have it your way. Let’s go face the music.”

“It’s not as if the music is Taps, Steve!”

“No, but Tony’s at the tower,” he said darkly as he sat up. “There’s a few modern songs that he might decide to go with that are...not polite. At all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she laughed.

(If he had his way, laughing Peggy would be a constant flavor for the rest of their lives.)

When they did finally arrive at the tower, everyone was lounging together in the common area--including, to Steve’s surprise and delight, Mister Jarvis. The former butler looked more relaxed than Steve had seen him yet, although he was still seated as far as possible from Stark.

Baby steps.

“Look who the cat dragged in,” Nat drawled when she caught sight of them, smirking.

Jarvis glanced at them, then stiffened a little with an awkward cough. When he turned, Steve’s brows shot up at the shiner he was sporting.

“Mister Jarvis, what on earth happened to your eye?” Peggy demanded.

“I...managed to hit myself with a cupboard door,” Jarvis said, tugging at one ear. “Very clumsy.”

She arched an eyebrow, scanning the group. “Would this be the same cupboard door that apparently hit Agent Barton in the jaw?”

“It’s a very big door,” Clint said evenly.

“Clearly,” Peggy replied dryly, and Steve looked down to hide his smile as he shook his head. He was a little surprised that going a round with Barton was what got the fussy butler to even out, but that was something to explore another time, when his mind wasn't totally wrapped around the woman at his side.

“I trust you had a good evening, Miss Carter?” Jarvis cut in, thankfully, effectively distracting her with a pointed look at her hand.

“I...did, yes,” she said, flushing a little and smiling. “Very good. Erm…”

She trailed off, looking up at Steve uncertainly, and he cleared his throat as he turned back to the group. “Peggy and I are getting married.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s wonderful!” Pepper burst out, jumping up from her seat and hurrying over to hug Peggy. “Oh, let me see--wow...that’s...that’s gorgeous. Tony, you should come see this. They’re getting married, she’s got a ring and everything, after only six months of being here. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Steve brought a hand up to his mouth, trying to cover his laughter at her icy tone in a cough without much success.

“Uh, yeah, baby, that’s...that’s great,” Tony said, hurrying over. “Yeah. I mean, I think it’s important to remember that they’ve been together, what, seventy years? I mean, I think, relatively, we’re not doing that bad--”

“I am not waiting seventy years,” she told him, then turned back to beam at Steve and Peggy. “This calls for champagne.”

“I think I liked you better as a Capsicle,” Tony muttered as Pepper danced away into the kitchen.

“Hey, all I want to do is marry the woman I love,” Steve said with a shrug. “If that makes your life uncomfortable for a while, well, that’s just a bonus.”

Tony followed after Pepper, muttering darkly, and Peggy shook her head at Steve with a sigh. He only grinned at her before looking up again as Jarvis approached.

“Congratulations, Captain Rogers,” he said, holding out a hand to shake Steve’s.

“How many times are we gonna have to go over this?” Steve asked with a long suffering sigh as he took the other man’s hand.

“Too many already, I fear,” Jarvis said with a smirk. “Steve, then. You’ve certainly chosen a partner that is truly above compare.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just lucky she said yes,” Steve replied, winking at Peggy as he released Jarvis’s hand.

“Exceedingly lucky,” she told him, lips twitching and eyes dancing at him before she looked back at Jarvis.

“Congratulations, Miss Carter,” he told her. He seemed to hesitate a moment, then bent down to kiss her cheek gently. “You deserve every bit of happiness this world can grant you.”

“Thank you, Mister Jarvis,” she said, eyes glistening.

“Champagne!” Pepper sang out as she returned with a tray of glasses. “Come on, come on, everybody gets one. Even you, Bruce, come on.”

“I don’t really--”

“Yeah, I know, but they’re engaged, you can do one toast,” Pepper said in a tone that even the Hulk wouldn’t be able to argue with.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Bruce said, sharing a smile with Steve as he took a glass.

Steve glanced between Jarvis and Clint as they shared a look, Clint holding his glass up a little. Jarvis nodded almost imperceptibly, then lifted his glass and cleared his throat.

“To old friends and new,” Jarvis said. “To new beginnings.”

#Steggy #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #Edwin Jarvis #Clint Barton #various

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spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 5

Chapter: 5/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: Paranoid tendencies, depictions of extreme anxiety Excerpt: Three days of this had Virgil feeling like a walking conspiracy theory. He was absolutely convinced that Janus was going to come striding in, armored in the fury of the scorned, and neatly burn away his friends' self-esteem until nothing remained but a smoldering ruin of the love Virgil had only just grown accustomed to. And he would have nothing but the pain of his own empathy, and Janus would have Remus.

Virgil grew increasingly jumpy as the days passed and danger failed to manifest. He had taken to sleeping in the living room in his clothes in case Janus tried to corner someone. He wrung the details of the encounter out of Roman, who was unusually reticent about the whole ordeal. This did absolutely nothing to calm Virgil's nerves. He kept himself glued to the others whenever they came downstairs, never letting them get more than a few paces away from him.

The sleep deprivation wasn't helping matters either; even without the anxiety-induced insomnia wreaking havoc on his fragile sleep schedule, the couch was just the wrong size for sleeping on and he woke up multiple times during the nights to readjust. Fearing that exhaustion would make him complacent, he supplemented this lack of sleep with copious amounts of caffeine.

Three days of this had him feeling like a walking conspiracy theory. He was absolutely convinced that Janus was going to come striding in, armored in the fury of the scorned, and neatly burn away his friends' self-esteem until nothing remained but a smoldering ruin of the love Virgil had only just grown accustomed to. And he would have nothing but the pain of his own empathy, and Janus would have Remus.

It was early in the morning on what would have been the fourth day of Virgil's self-imposed lookout duty when he finally reached his breaking point. He threw off his blankets and crept to the basement door.

He stood in front of it for a long time just staring at the patterns in the wood. His breath echoed in his head, so loud he was half-convinced it would wake the whole house. He had no plan. He just needed to know.

Virgil opened the door.

He stepped over the threshold and immediately froze on the landing at the sight before him. Shame burned hot in his face. There was nothing sinister to behold, just the innocent sight of Janus and Remus asleep on the couch in their clothes, two GameCube controllers tangled on the floor in front of them. Virgil almost smiled at the memory of long nights spent in front of the TV, spirited wrestling matches and arguments about what counted as cheating.

He gave a wistful sigh and leaned against the banister, fully aware of just how creepy he was being. He wanted nothing more than to cast aside this stupid grudge and curl up under Remus' arm, his head only inches away from Janus' where it rested on Remus' chest.

Virgil knew it was foolish to linger, more foolish still to descend a few steps, and a few more, and a few more until he was sitting on the bottom step. He didn't have a goal in mind; he just wanted to stay in the moment. He could pretend he had just woken up and gently extricated himself from the cuddle pile. He could pretend they had all stayed up late playing Mario Kart and were about to all have coffee together. He could, for one moment of sublime nostalgia, pretend that things were back to normal.

Even if that meant pretending that Roman, Logan, and Patton didn't love him yet.

Virgil couldn't deny that there had been a sense of solidarity in rejection, a connection forged in mutual scorn. And for one fleeting moment, Virgil understood why Janus and Remus had felt so betrayed by him. Even Janus, who dealt almost exclusively in gray areas, was unable or unwilling to see past the false dichotomy of 'dark' and 'light' that had dictated and defined their lives for so very long.

Virgil braced his elbow against his knee and let his chin rest in his palm. He knew he should leave. He intended to leave. Soon.

And then, like shattering glass, the spell broke on its own: Remus opened his eyes.

For one heart-stopping moment, he and Virgil just stared at each other.

Then Virgil shot to his feet. "I was just leaving," he whispered.

Remus held eye contact. He couldn't get up without disturbing Janus, who was still asleep on his shoulder. "What were you doing?" Remus whispered back, too sleepy to be anything but confused.

Despite himself, Virgil's eyes flickered to Janus. He shook his head and put a finger to his lips.

He really should have known better. Remus pursued chaos with the same reckless determination of a labrador chasing a tennis ball; he was going to sink his teeth into this opportunity no matter who or what he knocked over on the way.

Remus' eyes lit up. Keeping his gaze locked onto Virgil's horrified face, he lifted his elbow and nudged Janus in the ribs. Hard.

In the basement, 'Janus is not a morning person,' was not merely a statement of fact, it was a threat. Janus jerked upright, looking for all the world like a cobra with his capelet hung up on the couch cushions behind his head. He narrowed his eyes at Virgil, and the expression of sleepy irritability was so familiar that Virgil would have laughed if he wasn't too busy panicking.

"Look who dropped in for a visit," Remus prompted, looking every part the triumphant tattletale as he smirked at Virgil.

Janus arranged his capelet over his shoulders and addressed Virgil without looking at him. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah, actually." Virgil set his jaw, pointedly ignoring the ghosts of familiarity that still flitted in the periphery of his mind.

"I thought you were leaving," Remus said.

"Yeah, well…" Virgil tried and failed to think of something punchy to say. "I just remembered I'm mad at you."

Janus scoffed. "Right. You're mad at us."

"I am!" Virgil nearly stamped his foot, but managed to hold back. "Look, let's…" He sighed, suddenly exhausted. "Let's not do this. Just-- Please don't hurt the others again, okay? I know it's me you're mad at, so please don't drag them into it. And I'll do you the favor of never coming back here." He took one last look around the room and turned to leave.

"Wait!"

Virgil froze with his back turned. He had expected some sort of protest from Remus, but that had been Janus' voice. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Janus slide back into the cool persona he wore around like armor. But for one split second, his face had been so open and Virgil had seen the truth beneath the layers. It was a look of despair so honest and pure that Virgil's chest ached to behold it, and he understood in an instant something he had always known: Janus was afraid.

The coals burning in Virgil's chest went out, with barely a whiff of smoke to indicate that they had ever been there at all. "What, Janus?"

"Um." And with that final hesitation, Janus had control again. "Virgil, Virgil, Virgil. You can't leave so soon."

"Watch me," Virgil said, less as a threat and more as a way to prompt Janus to get to the point.

"We should talk," Janus said, examining his gloved fingertips as though he wasn't still half-asleep and panicking. "Why don't you stay for coffee and we can get this straightened out?"

Virgil was quiet for a long moment as he thought it over. He wanted to believe that Janus had a sincere apology prepared, but he knew that would never be the case. Maybe if one of them was on their deathbed, but never before. But more than that, he missed his friends. He so badly wanted an excuse to forgive them, and if there was even a chance that Janus would admit, even obliquely, to any sort of wrongdoing, then Virgil wanted to take it.

"Oh, just say yes," Remus snapped. "We all know you want to."

"Upstairs," Virgil said.

Janus and Remus both made faces of disgust. "Aw, Virgil, are you too good for the dungeon now?" Remus asked. "We even put away all the ticklers, sex knobs, and lacy hoohas just for you."

"Ew." Virgil wrinkled his nose. "Upstairs. Take it or leave it."

"That's hardly fair," Janus started, but Virgil cut him off.

"Take it or leave it," he repeated firmly.

"Fine by me," Remus said, standing up and rocking forward onto his toes.

Janus made a show of sighing and rolling his eyes, so Virgil knew just how demanding he was being. "Oh, very well. Upstairs it is."

Remus didn't drink coffee. Virgil offered him one anyway, which Remus declined.

He just sat back and watched and tugged at his hair while Janus spooned mound after mound of crisp white sugar into his mug and Virgil poured his customary eight fluid ounces of milk into his own mug.

Coffee rituals completed, Virgil and Janus sat down and stared at each other.

"You owe Roman an apology," Virgil said, scowling.

Janus, still a little disoriented and moving slower than he would have liked, played dumb. "Whatever do you mean?"

Remus growled at the mention of Roman, but did not interrupt. Instead, he bounced his legs under the table. He knew that Janus and Virgil were both hurting, though their little dance was agonizing to watch. But that was how they worked, so Remus sat and tried his hardest not to give voice to the hundreds of thoughts racing through his brain.

"I'm not in the mood for games," Virgil said, staring at his coffee. "He told me what you said."

"I'd be perfectly happy to apologize to Roman," Janus said, pausing for dramatic effect, "just as soon as he apologizes to me. And Remus, for that matter."

Remus stuck his tongue out the mention of his name, but kept his thoughts to himself. He just wanted Virgil back, and didn't particularly care what path Janus took as long as they reached their destination.

"Come to think of it," Janus continued, more at ease now that he had a plan of attack, "has he apologized to you ?"

"He doesn't need to," Virgil said, still not looking at Janus. "None of them do. They didn't know how badly they were hurting us."

"You didn't tell them."

"I don't need to!"

"Mm." Janus sat back, fixing Virgil with a critical gaze. "So you expect an apology from me , but not from your new friends? Why the double standard, Virgil? What makes me so different from them?"

"Because!" Virgil clenched his hands into fists under the table. "Because I know they're sorry for how they treated me. They don't have to say it, because they show me every day. And you-- I truly don't think you're even capable of admitting when you've made a mistake."

"Oh, shit," Remus muttered.

Janus was silent, his mind working feverishly to identify the combination of words that would hurt Virgil as deeply as Virgil's words had hurt Janus.

"And I know it's hard for you," Virgil continued, the anger draining out of his voice, "but you could say something. Say it backwards, for all I care."

Janus washed away the venom on his tongue with a mouthful of lukewarm coffee.

"I don't know what you'd have me say." A pause. "Because I did everything right and I don't regret anything I said or did. I certainly don't miss you."

Virgil was quiet for a long moment as he processed that. "My turn, I guess," he said finally. "I… should have communicated better with you guys. And I should have been more respectful of your feelings. I was just so tired of being angry all the time, and I… I guess I was hoping that you guys would follow my lead."

"Do I have to apologize for anything?" Remus asked, kicking his boots up onto the table. "Let's see…" Guilt and remorse weren't typically in his wheelhouse, though he was certainly capable of feeling them. He simply didn't have time for regret, always charging forward to the next possibility. "Oh, I'm sorry I put slugs in your bed!"

Virgil looked at him sideways. "You… didn't… put slugs in my bed," he said slowly. Then again, he hadn't actually seen his bed in several days. "Did you?"

Janus shook his head.

"Oh, that's right!" Remus waved a hand and smiled at Virgil. "I only thought about it."

"Please," Virgil said, "please explain to me the creative merit of putting slugs in my bed."

"He never said it was a creative endeavor," Janus said.

"No, that was a revenge plot," Remus said. "I would never use slugs for self-expression. There's nothing shocking about slugs." He paused, scrunching up his mouth in thought. "Unless you put one up your ass or something." Virgil choked on his coffee, spitting out a mouthful across the table at Janus, who was mostly successful in his attempts to dodge it. Unruffled, Remus continued, "And there are much more shocking things to put up your butt!"

"Slugs, Re," Virgil reminded him between coughs.

"I think," Janus said, imagining a roll of paper towels to hand to Virgil, "there are lots of ways to express oneself via slug." He gave Remus a keen look. "You just have to be creative enough to come up with something."

"Of course you'd say that." Virgil mopped up the spilled coffee, balled up the paper towel, and aimed it at Janus' head.

Remus nodded his agreement, snatching the paper towel ball out of the air as it passed.

Janus let himself be teased. "Oh, please do me the favor of elaborating on that," he said, bowing his head to Virgil in a show of false deference.

"You're pro-slugs," Remus said, just for the sake of throwing a wrench in things.

"He's pro-anti," Virgil corrected.

"A contrarian," Remus agreed.

Janus rolled his eyes and leaned forward. "You're right. I never agree with anyone."

"What do we do now?" Remus asked Virgil in a faux-whisper.

Virgil responded by lunging over the table and knocking Janus' hat off.

"You know how much I love it when you do that," Janus grumbled, bending to pick it up. "You never go after each other like this," he said once he'd resurfaced.

Remus just shrugged at him. "Sorry, Danger Noodle, but Virgil doesn't wear a hat."

"Yes, that's what I meant." Janus sat back and crossed his arms, putting on a show of irritation.

Under the table, Virgil gently kicked his shin. Janus flashed him a closed-mouth smile.

***

4:45 was a disgusting hour to be awake, truly barbaric. Roman rolled out of bed before he could change his mind on the matter and stood up, yawning and running both hands through his hair to try to get it to sit right. Ordinarily, he would never emerge from his room looking anything less than his princely best, but today he had (dare he say it?) bigger things to worry about.

Bigger things such as Virgil's newfound guard dog tendencies. Roman couldn't believe that Logan and Patton hadn't brought it up already, or even seemed to have noticed that anything was amiss. Roman was the only one who seemed to chafe under Virgil's constant supervision, flinch at the way he haunted the corners of the room whenever anyone ventured downstairs.

And, since apparently no one else was going to do it, Roman took it upon himself to wake his comrades from their slumber and gather them in his room so they could work out a strategy for helping Virgil out of his weird, paranoid phase.

It was not lost on Roman that Virgil's vigil had only started up after Roman's encounter with Janus. He had kept that information to himself, ashamed in a way he couldn't really define and didn't like to think about. He really didn't think Patton and Logan needed to know.

Neither one of them was particularly happy to be summoned at such an early hour, and neither one had their glasses. They both squinted at Roman, who bounced on his toes and looked around the room to make sure everything was perfect.

Roman's bedroom, much like everyone else's, was inherently linked to his function. His room represented ultimate creative freedom, meaning he could change it at will to facilitate whatever creative undertaking he so desired. Since today's was a confrontation, he had first imagined a massive meeting room at the top of some towering skyscraper. But he had second-guessed himself, and in the moments before summoning his friends, had cycled through a tree house, a laboratory, and a stage, before finally turning it into an exact facsimile of the living room. Thinking this might be disorienting, he changed all the decor to red and gold, and finally summoned his friends before he could change his mind again.

"Y'okay, Roman?" Patton mumbled, falling back onto the couch without a second glance and rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles.

Logan, who was much more annoyed at this disturbance, didn't wait for an answer. "Confusional arousal, also known as 'sleep drunkenness' is a condition that results from being woken suddenly--"

"I know, I know!" Roman waved his hands. "Look, I'll just come right out and say it: I'm worried about Anxiety."

"May I inquire why?" Logan asked stiffly. "Or are you going to interrupt again?"

Roman made a face at him. "Have you seriously not noticed that he's always downstairs?"

"Is he?" Patton asked. "I noticed he's been waking up earlier, but…" He paused and shrugged at Roman. "I mean, you sometimes wake up that early."

"That's what I'm telling you!" Roman said. "He's always down there! Even at weird times!"

"How long have you been observing this phenomenon?" Logan asked.

"Do-doo-be-do-doo," Patton sang.

"Phenomenon," Logan said, closing his eyes. "Not 'Mahna Mahna'."

"Do-doo-be-do-doo," Patton sang again, shimmying his shoulders a little.

Logan opened his eyes and turned to Roman. "How long have you been observing this behavior?"

"I don't know, like three days?" Roman said. "What, do you not believe me?"

"Aw, I'm sure Logan believes you," Patton said, trying to mediate despite the fact that he had no idea what Logan was getting at.

"I do believe you that Anxiety has been in the living room every time you have gone downstairs," Logan said. "What I am trying to determine is if this is a coincidence."

"It's not a coincidence!" Roman snapped. "You don't have to keep undermining me, Logan! If you don't believe me, just say so instead of trying to make me look stupid and… and inadequate."

"Whoa, kiddo!" Patton put up his hands. "Nobody thinks you're inadequate." He paused and waited for Logan to agree. Logan just looked at him, confused, so Patton continued, "Right, Logan?"

"That depends. Are we discussing Roman's creative works or his adherence to the scientific method-- Patton, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Forget it," Roman rolled his eyes. "I might as well just come right out and tell you: Deceit dropped by for a visit a couple nights ago--"

"When?" Logan interrupted.

Roman dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "And he tried to get me to say that Anxiety was bad for, well, for me. For all of us, I think is what he was getting at. Probably so we'd kick Anxiety out and send him straight back to Deceit's creepy clutches. Anyway, I told him to get lost and went right upstairs to tell Anxiety what had happened, and he's been camped out in the living room ever since."

"If I'm doing the math correctly," Logan said, looking at Roman sideways, "that was also the night that Thomas dreamt about a Dionysian org--"

Patton squeaked, but it was Roman who got words out faster, "I think we all remember! Let's not bring it back up."

"My point being, you were distracted or otherwise incapacitated for the rest of the night."

"This isn't about me!" Roman said, "As much as it pains me to admit it. This is about saving Anxiety from…" He hesitated. "Well, from whatever it is he's freaking out about. I say we go down there, sit him down, and work this out once and for all."

"Yay!" Patton said, caught up in the moment.

"Logan, are you in?"

"Would it even matter if I said no?"

"That's the spirit!" Roman strode to the door and pulled it open, sparing a thought to imagine Logan and Patton out of their pajamas and into their normal clothes. "Come, my brethren! To battle!"

"Um, battle?" Patton said, trailing after Roman with much less vigor than Roman would have liked. "How about to breakfast?"

"Can we have French toast?" Roman asked, looking between Patton and Logan while Logan shut the door.

Logan shrugged helplessly. "Sure."

"Very well." Roman beckoned Patton and Logan to follow him and marched down the hall toward the stairs. "Come, my brethren! To breakfast!"

He was quiet on the stairs in case Virgil was asleep; part of him hoped Virgil was asleep so that Logan would see and possibly admit that Roman had been correct in his statement that Virgil was always downstairs.

But to their mutual confusion, voices emanated from the kitchen. Roman paused just short of the doorway, frowning at the sound of his brother's voice.

"You still have to tell us what you think the creative applications of slugs are!" Remus said, oblivious to the audience just out of sight.

"You know he doesn't have any," Virgil said, laughing.

Roman's frown deepened and he glanced behind him to meet the equally confused faces of Logan and Patton.

"You haven't given me any time to think," Janus said. "And I did specify that a creative person could come up with something."

This was the catalyst that got Roman in motion, compelled by the understanding that something was deeply wrong. Forgetting his original goal entirely, he stepped into the kitchen to find Virgil smiling at the two sides Roman had thought he hated most.

Patton and Logan followed Roman into the kitchen. Patton froze, just as baffled as Roman, but Logan only inclined his head on his way to the coffee maker. "Good morning, Anxiety, Deceit." He turned to Remus and frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't know how I should address you."

"Call me by your name, Elio," Remus said, widening his eyes.

"Neither one of us is name--"

"Oh, forget it." Remus waved a hand. "Call me Remus, call me Dukey, call me Madonna for all I care."

"Good morning, Remus."

"Logan!" Roman said, his eyes still locked on Virgil. "Don't-- Don't--" He shook his head. "Anxiety, what's going on? Why aren't you scared of them?"

"Why would he be scared of us?" Remus demanded.

Janus watched, his eyes traveling from one face to the next until he found what he was looking for. He didn't have a clue what was going on, and it was obvious that Logan didn't either. Roman and Remus were trying to work it out, which left Patton, who barely factored into the equation, and Virgil. Virgil, who was shifting in his chair looking like he'd rather be anywhere else than here. Aha.

"Because you're evil!" Roman said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And…" Patton said hesitantly, "You hurt him."

"He doesn't like you!" Roman agreed. "He was glad to be rid of you!"

Virgil grit his teeth but could only watch helplessly as Janus and Remus exchanged a look of mutual understanding and stared expectantly at him.

"Is that what he told you?" Janus purred, ignoring the violent beating of his heart against his ribs. "Were we cruel to you, Anxiety?" He gave Remus an expectant look.

Remus held eye contact. He knew what Janus wanted him to do; a part of him even wanted to do it. As much as Remus was about morbid possibilities, he was also about ugly truths. He had no interest in defying his function, in censoring himself. But the sight of Virgil in his periphery, pale and shaking in his chair like the sole survivor of a head-on car crash, made Remus pause. And, holding eye contact with Janus, he lifted his hand and placed it over his own mouth.

Janus accepted this with a roll of his eyes. If Remus didn't want to put Virgil out of his misery, then Janus certainly wasn't going to be the one to do it. "Well, Anxiety? Answer the question." He curled his mouth into a vicious, humorless smile. "And do be honest, won't you?"

Virgil couldn't breathe. He swallowed convulsively, trying to get himself under control. The tightrope stretched out before him, growing narrower by the second. He kept his weight centered a second longer and stared, pleading, at Janus. "Don't."

"Leave him alone, you fiend!" Roman said, lunging forward and slamming his hand down on the table.

"Hey!" Virgil shot to his feet, chest-to-chest with Roman. The look of confusion in Roman's eyes turned to betrayal at the sight of Virgil facing off against him with his back to the Dark Sides. "Listen," Virgil said in a quavering voice, sinking back down into his chair, "let's just… Everybody calm down; I can explain."

"Take your time," Janus said, irritably. He motioned for Remus to put away his morningstar, which had jumped into his hand the moment Roman had hit the table.

"What is there to explain?" Roman demanded. "Are they holding you hostage, or what?"

The tightrope quivered beneath Virgil's feet. He took a deep breath and jumped. "I lied, okay? I was scared that you guys wouldn't want me anymore if you knew that we…"

Remus peeled his hand away from his mouth. "That we're tighter than Logan's ass!"

"Were friends," Virgil said.

Roman sat down next to Virgil, heart stuttering in his chest. Patton and Logan sat as well, but Roman barely noticed the movement. "You mean you were friends the whole time?"

"No!" Virgil said hurriedly. "Which reminds me." He turned and gave Janus a stern look. "I think Deceit has something he wants to say to you."

"I think Deceit can speak for himself, thank you," Janus said.

"If you're talking about that little late-night rendezvous, you can just forget it," Roman said, puffing out his chest. He didn't need everyone to know just how badly he'd been hurt, and insisting on an apology would do just that.

Janus turned to Virgil, triumphant. "See? There's nothing to apologize for."

"Wait a second," Patton said. "I'm confused." He turned to Virgil. "Why did you let us think that Deceit and the Duke were mean to you?"

"They were a little bit," Virgil said. Janus scoffed and Virgil kicked him under the table but continued explaining, "They didn't like that I was spending so much time with you and… Well, I was scared that you wouldn't want me, and we were on bad terms when I moved up here, so I thought it would be easier if I just… kept my mouth shut."

"You were fighting?" Patton asked. "Did we cause that?" He was horrified at the thought. He didn't like Deceit and he didn't like the Duke, but the idea of actually hurting them or Virgil made his chest ache.

"You," Janus pointed at him, "have caused more pain than you even know."

"How?" Roman demanded. "We don't even talk to you."

"You shut us down every chance you get!" Remus said, baring his teeth. "How would you like it if your pens never wrote, hm? What would you do with all those thoughts in your head?"

"You're not making any sense, Dastardly Whip-stache, although I'd expect nothing else from the likes of you."

Janus raised an eyebrow at Virgil, looking at him pointedly. Virgil sighed. "Okay, okay. I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to make you feel bad, but… When you try to stop Thomas from listening to us, it's… destructive."

"Destructive how?" Logan asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Try 'psychological torture,'" Janus muttered.

"Oh, please," Roman said, rolling his eyes. "We don't torture you. Like I said, we never even see you!"

Janus sat up straight. "How would you like it, Roman, if every time you tried to write one of your little stories, your pen tore straight through the paper? Or you turned around and the whole thing was shredded?" Not wanting Patton and Logan to feel as though they were absolved of any guilt, Janus looked at them in turn. "How would you feel if you were never able to properly perform your function? If something stopped you every time? If Thomas never heard your voice no matter how loud you tried to scream?"

"That sounds like it would be psychological torture," Logan said drily, unmoved. He only assisted in silencing Janus and Remus when their influence prevented Thomas from healthy functioning, which was rare.

"Do we--" Patton choked out. "Did we-- Virgil?" he beseeched. "Did we do that to you?"

Virgil nodded, knowing full well that there was no sparing Patton's feelings now. "That's part of the reason why we fought," Virgil said. "I forgave you and they--"

"Don't," Remus said.

"I was hoping that you guys accepting me meant we could all learn how to coexist without hurting each other," Virgil said, blushing. "Like, not to sound all bleeding-heart about it."

"So what, when did you guys all magically make up?" Roman demanded, resentment coloring his tone. Virgil's explanation soothed the sting a bit, but jealousy and bitterness still swirled dangerously in his mind.

"Uh, like, ten minutes ago?" Virgil said. "I was trying to get Deceit to apologize to you."

"For what, exactly?" Logan asked, looking at Roman. "You only mentioned that he tried to turn you against Anxiety."

"It's nothing to worry about," Roman said hurriedly.

"I think we need to apologize," Patton said. Everyone looked at him and he shrank back a little before finding his confidence again. "We hurt Virgil and his friends! That was wrong of us."

Janus eyed him, his gaze calculating. "The best apology is changed behavior."

"Oh, well, um." Patton looked down at the table.

"That's what I thought."

"You did it for me," Virgil pleaded. "You thought I was bad for Thomas, but now you know that I can be important too. What's different about them?"

"You can't seriously be expecting us to put up with that ," Roman said, gesturing at Remus, who was making lewd gestures at him across the table.

"C'mon, a month ago you would have said the exact same thing about me," Virgil said.

Roman crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, but this is too far."

"Aw, and you haven't even heard about my idea for desert ungulate erotica," Remus said, sticking out his lower lip. "I call it the Camel Sutra."

"See?"

"I'm just asking you to take a chance on them like you took a chance on me," Virgil said. "Look, I'm even vouching for them! Nobody vouched for me and you took me in."

"For the record," Logan said, "I have no opposition to this. We are all parts of Thomas and we all have important contributions to make."

"I meeeaaan…" Patton said slowly. Again, everyone turned to look at him. "Anxiety is kind of right."

"Virgil," Virgil blurted before he could change his mind. "My name is Virgil. If we--" He took a deep, shaky breath. "If we're gonna do this, I want you to know my name."

"Do what?" Roman asked, still reeling from Patton's words. "Uh, I mean, thank you, Virgil for being honest with us, but-- Him?" He pointed at Remus.

Remus flipped him off. "You're being a real dick right now, you know? What'd I ever do to you?"

"To Thomas, you mean? You scare him!"

"And who told him we were scary?" Remus demanded, reaching out to sling one arm over Janus' shoulder. They were a little too far apart for the motion to be comfortable. Remus dug his fingers into Janus' shoulder to keep from losing his grip. "You did! You and Daddy Long Dong over there."

"Roman," Patton was perfectly miserable, guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders, "I think he's right."

"But they are scary!" Roman insisted. "I don't care if An-- If Virgil turned out to be a good guy--"

"Gee, thanks," Virgil muttered.

"--Deceit and my brother are not good for Thomas."

"And who are you to decide that?" Janus asked, sticking his chin out. "For Thomas' sake let's at least be honest with each other, Roman. You don't care one way or the other whether Remus and I are good for Thomas. You're only thinking about yourself. And I'm so sorry to tell you, but you're outnumbered. So what does that say about you? Virgil is practically on his knees begging you to give us a chance, and here you are denying him because you can't see past your own inherent prejudices."

"Yes, thank you, Deceit. I'll be sure to take that advice to heart," Roman snapped. He turned helplessly to Patton. "Well, Padre, you've always been our guide for right and wrong. I'll defer to you on this even if… Even if I don't like the answer. I trust you."

"Don't put it on him!" Virgil said. "I'm the one-- Don't-- It's not fair to put it all on him."

Patton smiled at Virgil, then at Roman. "It's okay. I think we should give them a chance. At least let them, you know, express themselves."

"Yeah," Roman sighed. "I was afraid you would say that."

"If we can work with Virgil, I don't see any reason we can't work with these two," Patton said. "Even if it does make me feel kinda…"

"Squirmy?" Remus suggested, wriggling in place to emphasize his point.

Patton screwed up his face in disgust before catching himself. "Uh-- Yeah. 'Squirmy' is a good word for it." He trailed off and cleared his throat and for one split second, a chill silence dominated the air.

Then Logan stood. "Was that the heartwarming conclusion?" he asked.

"I don't think there's gonna be a heartwarming conclusion, Lo," Virgil said to him.

"Ah. Well in that case, may I suggest French toast?"

Janus rose, smoothly shrugging Remus' hand off his shoulder. "Well," he started, "I'm sure--"

Virgil cut him off with a guttural noise like he was trying to deter a naughty cat from swiping a glass off a countertop. "Mm!"

Janus turned to him, brow furrowed in faux-concern. "Are you trying to get my attention or are you choking on something?"

"I need to talk to you for a sec," Virgil said, then turned to Remus. "Both of you." He turned to leave and motioned for them to follow him, giving both Patton and Roman lights taps on the shoulder on his way out.

He led them to the basement stairs and paused on the landing. "Listen, I know--" He broke off with a frustrated sigh, not wanting to offend his friends. "I want this to end well, and I know what you guys are like." Janus raised an eyebrow but did not interrupt. Virgil made an apologetic face at him and continued, "Don't push them, okay? Remus, no scare tactics. Janus, you know what the boundaries are. Don't try to find them. Just be cool, and I'll make sure they're cool back."

"I'll behave if Romano-Hermano does," Remus said, bouncing on his toes. "Ugh, fine, and I promise I won't write about his phobias unless I have a reeeaally good idea."

Janus sniffed and swept his hair back. "And I'll be sure to push as hard as I can. You're right, Virgil, it's in my best interest to antagonize Saint Patton and his little sidekick right out of the gate. Thank you for the warning."

Virgil refused to be intimidated, knowing full well that Janus was only pushing back so hard because Virgil had seen right through him. "So," he said expectantly, "French toast?"

"Sure." Janus was already in motion, leaning into Virgil so he could reach the doorknob. "This is going to be fun."

"This would be good with cinnamon," Patton said, his voice bright with false cheer, as he hacked at his French toast with needless ferocity.

"Mm-hm," Virgil said, desperate to ease some of the tension that made the maple syrup go sour in his mouth.

"The recipe called for powdered sugar only," Logan said.

Virgil kicked Janus under the table in a desperate bid to get him to break the icy silence he'd been maintaining.

Janus sneered back at him, having no other way to communicate that making small talk about breakfast toppings was beneath him.

It was Remus who extended the first hand. "What about cayenne?" His eyes flickered from one face to the next, nervous and probing, and Virgil's silent 'thank you' went unacknowledged.

Logan twitched in irritation. "The recipe--"

"Oh, forget the recipe, Discount Alton Brown."

"You can't call him that!" Roman said, forgetting himself.

Virgil took a breath to intervene but stopped himself, not wanting Roman to feel ganged up on.

"You called me an 'off-brand nerd processor' earlier this week," Logan said.

"Well, yeah, but…" Roman tapped his fingertips against the table, agitated, "Endearingly funny-mean nicknames are my thing."

"Now they're our thing," Remus said with a wicked grin, although he was sure not to sharpen his teeth this time. "Aww, how sweet. We have something in common."

"I think," Patton interjected, "spicy French toast sounds, eh…" Here, he faltered. "Interesting?"

Virgil looked down at his massacred pile of French toast so no one would see the hesitant smile on his face.

Breakfast ended with no major fights. Virgil managed to coalesce all the tact and charm he was capable of and use it to corral Logan, Roman, and Patton into his bedroom.

He imagined some purple beanbag chairs for all of them and sat down heavily in one, twisting the fabric of his hoodie in his hands. "I'm really sorry I lied to you guys. I understand if you're mad at me or don't want to hear it, but I just-- I was so scared that you would kick me out if I told you the truth. And it's not that I think you would-- Like, I know we're friends, it's just that I'm me."

"Virgil," Roman said, because Patton didn't look like he was going to interrupt. "It's okay. And, well, I'm big enough to admit that I may have been a little overzealous in my attempts to protect you. Although I'm really not sure how you manage to get along with my brother."

"Practice makes perfect," Virgil said, flashing what he hoped was a winning smile.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Roman grumbled.

"Anyway," Virgil said, looking at the floor. "I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me, but I get it if not."

"Of course we forgive you!" Patton said. "I'm sorry I ever made you feel like you had to lie to us. You can always be honest with us."

Virgil nodded. "That's all I wanted to say. I don't know where to go from here."

"Your options are limited," Logan said. "However, I suggest that we all go down to the living room and try to encourage Remus and Deceit to do the same. Provided," he paused for a moment, and his gaze flickered to Roman, "everyone feels they can be cordial."

They all nodded in agreement and trundled back down the stairs in a single-file line with Logan at the head.

Remus began to hum a funeral march as they descended. He had made himself comfortable on the couch, his head propped up against one of the armrests and his feet in Janus' lap.

"You're still here?" Virgil asked, surprised. "Sorry, I didn't mean-- I just would think you'd be off writing."

Remus waved a hand. "John Dee-ceit Rockefeller over here is helping me workshop some things."

Janus considered solidarity for a split second before deciding to act natural. "Am I? That's news to me."

Virgil hurried over and sat down on the floor with his back to the couch, eager to mitigate whatever could easily become a complete disaster. Patton sat down beside him in a show of support, leaving Roman and Logan to eye each other over the remaining armchair.

"You don't have to be shy," Remus said, pleased that he was being allowed to dominate the conversation. He thought for a second, picturing the living room sans coffee table and with a bigger couch. Then he yawned.

This triggered a chain reaction. Virgil and Janus, who had been looking at him, also yawned, followed shortly by Patton, then Roman, then Logan.

"Maybe we should go back to bed," Virgil suggested, checking his phone. It was only a little past 7:00.

"I'm staying right here," Remus insisted. "I even made the couch bigger and everything." Knowing what was about to happen, he pulled his feet off Janus' lap.

Sure enough, Janus stood. "Do come get me if you need anything," he said, already in the process of sinking out.

"Translation," Virgil said, "'Disturb me under penalty of death.'"

"I'm going to make coffee," Roman muttered, wary of the potential nightmares that might result from sleeping too close to Remus. "Anyone else want one?"

"No, thank you," said Logan. "I have work to do."

"Robot," Roman muttered as Logan sank out. "Anyone else? Virgil?"

Virgil was too sleepy to consider the potential disaster of leaving Remus, Patton, and Roman alone together. He could barely feel the caffeine in his system. "M'going to bed," he muttered, running one hand down his face. "Possibly for several thousand years."

"No slugs," Remus murmured.

"I'll go with you," Patton said.

Roman darted to the kitchen before they could sink out properly, realizing a moment too late what was going to happen.

He took his time in the kitchen, realizing with a sinking dread that he had accidentally boxed himself in. As much as he wanted to hide in the kitchen or sink out and have his coffee in his room, he knew full well he couldn't allow himself to do that.

Avoiding the living room because Remus was there was a kind of cowardice that Roman simply could not allow in himself. So he made his coffee, exacting a kind of petty joy in the shrill hum of the milk frother. Then he strode right into the living room and sat down next to Remus, who was making no effort whatsoever to hide the fact that he was staring.

The tense silence pressed down on both of them, aching against their ribs. Remus' fingers itched for his morningstar, a thousand fragmented revenge fantasies playing out in front of his open eyes in stunning technicolor. He could never see them through to the end, though. No matter how hard he tried to pin one down, his attention invariably wandered to the climax of another.

Oblivious to this, Roman sat and tried not to squirm. He hated awkward silences, and his desire to fill them verged on compulsion. The trouble was, he had no idea what he was supposed to say. The English language only had so many social niceties built in, and none of them covered reconnecting with one's disowned evil twin.

Remus' fervent, feverish gaze sent a nasty itch down Roman's spine, and it took a great deal of effort not to shudder. It irked Roman, not knowing which of Remus' idiosyncrasies were his own, and which were calculated to be as annoying as possible.

As much as Roman wanted to believe that he couldn't fathom how this distorted shadow of himself could ever be considered useful, the truth was that he could . Roman believed, deep down in the darkest part of himself, that he was half a function. He had vowed a thousand times over that he would work as hard as he needed to in order to make up the difference. He could be good, and if he was good enough then maybe Remus would just disappear.

"Does Deceit ever talk about me?" Roman asked, well aware that Remus had no context for the inquiry.

Remus rolled his eyes. He had half been hoping that Roman would attack him so he had an excuse to fight back. He supposed he should have known better that Roman's first concern would be his reputation. "Oh, yes, all the time. He's in love with you."

"That's not what I meant!" Roman said, blushing. "Does he ever talk about us ?"

"You and me?" Remus asked, genuinely surprised. "No. Why?"

Roman ignored the question. "Has he ever brought me up?"

"I don't know what kind of conversations you think we have down there," Remus said, confused, "but we mostly just have sensual, passionate group sex-- Wait, no, I promised Virgil I wouldn't antagonize you. Um." Roman raised an eyebrow and sat back to watch Remus flounder. "Well, no. It's never come up."

"So you don't think you're half a function?" Roman asked, striving to keep his tone light. He failed, but knew better than to let that show on his face.

"Is that what he said to you?" Remus asked, half-impressed and half-offended. "You really must have pissed him off!"

"Is that pride?" Roman asked, cocking his head. "You're impressed with me for that ?"

Remus ignored this in favor of addressing Roman's earlier point. He didn't lie often, but the topic at hadn't was something he couldn't even be honest with himself about. "No. I don't think I'm half a function. I could be perfectly capable of being Thomas' sole Creativity if I ever got the chance."

"We," said Roman, determined not to cede any ground. "Same. And I certainly wouldn't want any assistance from the likes of you."

They glared at each other, teetering on the edge of a real argument.

Of the two of them, it was Remus who harbored the deeper anger, scars of resentment burned jagged and destructive in his psyche. He clenched his fist around nothing, his promise to Virgil keeping his morningstar out of his grip.

Of the two of them, it was Remus who had the most to lose if this truce went badly.

Half-hating himself for it, he relaxed his hand and said, "Dragons have four limbs."

Roman's brow furrowed in confusion; he searched his brother's face before he remembered the childhood argument and grinned. "No, that would make it a wyvern. Dragons have six limbs."

"That's unrealistic."

"They're fantasy creatures! It doesn't have to be realistic!"

"Wyverns are dumb, anyway," Remus teased, sticking out his tongue.

To their mutual surprise, the bickering escalated, not into a fight, but into a deep and detailed debate over fantasy worldbuilding.

When Virgil woke up and came downstairs, it was to the sight of the living room covered in papers and two Creativities asleep on opposite ends of the couch.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #spicywrites #spicywrites a place where i can breathe

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