#sorry if it's a bit of an overkill with those updates being so close to each other
Text
.
#i'm gonna be queueing the next wingman wayne part for tonight yay!#sorry if it's a bit of an overkill with those updates being so close to each other#but the response has been really overwhelming in the best possible way and ngl#i'll be having a difficult conversation this evening so i could use some happiness to counter that#or maybe i should just take a walk to clear my head idk
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
illicit affairs | Chapter 1, Buzzcut Season
AO3 Link | 4,000 words (approx) | Chapter 2
Story Summary: Commander Fox thought that his only love would be the Republic. He certainly never thought that a small blue senator would change that. But if the Republic wants to make him a martyr, it should be for something he believes in.
“They can’t do that.”
“I’m afraid they can.”
“I won’t let them.” Fox shook his head incredulously and Thire bit back a laugh.
“I don’t think you have the authority to do that, sir.” The Chancellor had made the request himself.
“We have a perfectly fine atrium here-”
“Sir, there’s still blast marks on the wall from the bounty hunters.”
“- I don’t know why we need to host it in the Galactic Museum. Do you know how many sniper perches there are in just the main hall?”
Thire thought back to the holomap he had been looking at five minutes prior, before Fox had commed him in practical hysterics. “Last I checked it was seventeen.”
“Seventeen.” Fox slammed his hand down on the device before him and a holomap of the Galactic Museum flicked to life before them. Thire noted that some light renovations had been done in one of the exhibition rooms, he would have to adjust his current plan. “Seventeen perches in one hall and they want to take over the entire museum.”
“I’m sure that the 501st would donate some of their ARCs to our cause if you asked.”
“Thire, I’m considering it.” Fox groaned and leaned into his hands. “At this point we may as well comm Cody’s Bad Batch.” He’d heard that they’d ended up with one of the 501st’s ARC Troopers and had an expert marksman on the team. But any of them would have different uniforms than the Guard and the Chancellor had been prioritizing the Guard’s visual conformity as of late.
“You two do remember that we have authority over both the Senate Guard and the Red Guard, right?” Commander Stone walked in without knocking, carrying three mugs of caf. “Spread out the Senate Guard and our boys equally around the rooms and have a detachment of Red Guard at each of the entrances and around the Chancellor.”
“Yes, but the Senate Guard is incompetent and corrupt at best.” Thire gratefully accepted a mug from Stone.
“So are the senators.” Fox scoffed as he accepted the other mug from Stone. “Name an honest senator off the top of your head that’s not part of the Delegation of the Two-thousand, not that all of them are honest either.”
“Representative Jar Jar Binks of course.” Stone grinned as he leaned against the back of Fox’s chair.
“First, he’s not a senator. Second, don’t get me started, Stone.” Fox sighed and took a long sip of his caf, looking into it as if the answers would swirl to the surface. “We’ll mobilize the Blue and Red Guards. Thire, get me the optimal force placement by tomorrow morning. Stone, prep the bomb squad and get Sergeant Hound up to date. I want him on site. I’ll inform the Chancellor.”
“Another thing, Fox.” Stone brought out a holopad that he’d had tucked under his arm. “Chairman Papanoida has requested an additional security detail for the Pantoran Senator at this event.”
“Senator Chuchi, again?” Thire shook his head in amazement. “She’s going to give Amidala a run for her credits. Have you met the senator, Fox?”
“I’m about to. I’ll take three of the men and lead the security detail myself.” Fox took the holopad from Stone and placed it by his helmet on the desk.
“You’ll like her, she’s the one that dropped off those sweets last month.” Stone said, rising from the back of Fox’s chair. “Brilliant young woman, prime target for assassination.”
“I’m familiar with her file, Stone.” Fox closed the holomap and rose from his chair, followed shortly by Thire. “Let’s get this shit-show on the road.”
“Don’t let the Chancellor hear you call his gala a shit-show.” Thire said.
Fox shrugged. “Fine. Poodoo-parade.”
---
The members of the Coruscant Guard were fond of Senator Riyo Chuchi. She had always been nice to them, looked at them-not past them- when walking in the Senate halls, and took the time to remember their names and greet them. Commander Thorn had spoken very highly of her to Fox. But Thorn wasn’t here anymore. While Thire had risen to the occasion of his promotion, Fox was still grieving Thorn’s loss. The entire Guard was grieving all the brothers they had lost on Scipio. An entire squad, all because of one man. But that was how Fox ended up running the senatorial detail for Senator Chuchi. Thorn had usually been the one running the show on all protection details, but while Thire was adjusting to his heightened responsibility Fox had taken over some of Thorn’s duties.
Few senators would’ve been able to pick out the commander of the Coruscant Guard out of a line-up. Impressive, given that his was now the only truly unique armor in the Guard. Of course they’d heard about him, how could they have not? He was the most highly decorated clone trooper in the GAR. But the names and faces of clone troopers didn’t come easily to non-clones. That is why Commander Fox was surprised to be approached by an unfamiliar face as he walked from the offices of the Coruscant Guard to that of the Chancellor.
“Commander Fox?”
Fox looked up from the holopad that he used to avoid eye contact with the senators. “Ma’am?”
“Senator Riyo Chuchi, Commander.” She held out her hand and he took it. “I heard that you will be leading my security detail this weekend.”
“You heard correctly, Senator. Though very quickly.” Did he need to check his office for bugs? It had been two days since the last scan. Perhaps that was too long.
“I just passed Commander Stone.” She smiled softly and Fox understood why all of his guardsmen were charmed by her. He had been told that his and many of his brother’s eyes were golden in the right light, but her eyes were downright gold. He felt his breath catch in his throat and was glad that she couldn’t see his look of wonder through the mask. Fortunately, his training prepared him for high-stress situations, and he was able to regain his composure quickly.
“Of course, our local chatterbox.”
She chuckled. “Really?”
“No.” He smiled, and though she couldn’t see it he felt that his body language probably conveyed it to her. If she could remember the names of his men, then surely she could read their body language through the helmets.
She laughed again, then turned her eyes down. “I’m very sorry, but I must be on my way.” She looked up into the black visor of his helmet. “I look forward to seeing you this weekend, Commander Fox.” Then she was off before Fox could respond. Suddenly, the gala was not entirely a poodoo-parade, but a rather enticing event. It was Fox’s job to protect the citizens of Coruscant, but he had never really wanted to protect someone until now. He suddenly understood why beings owned pets or had children. He had now only known Senator Chuchi for a few fleeting moments, but he would give anything to ensure her safety. He didn’t set off again until her retreating figure was no longer visible in the crowd.
---
“How’s the crap-carnival going, Commander?” Jek asked as soon as the door closed behind Fox.
“It’s going well, Jek. Thank you very much for volunteering for Senator Chuchi’s security detail.”
“You ran into her didn’t you, Fox?” Thire was where he had been when Fox left. In the corner of the main office-space in front of a holomap of the Galactic Museum. Fox noted that it was now the updated one.
“Are you also volunteering, Commander Thire?”
“What did you think?” Thire leaned forward onto the table before him, eyes on Fox. Every guardsman in the room turned to look at their commanding officer. Fox look around at them and said nothing. “So, you too would throw yourself in front of a blaster bolt for her.” A light laugh, quickly stifled, broke out across the room. One of the men couldn’t muffle his laughter in time and found himself fixed by the blank stare of Fox’s helmet.
“Shut up, Thire. And thank you, Impulse, for volunteering. Thire you may surrender your position to another volunteer at any time if your presence is required elsewhere.”
“With all due respect, sir. I wouldn’t miss this for the galaxy.” Fox knew that it would be something that Thire was more comfortable with. Thire had yet to command event security and starting off with the entire Senate body was a little too much. Two commanders for a single senator’s security detail may have been overkill, but at least it would put them both on the floor.
The next few days were a blur. Commander Stone was placed in charge of event security, and while Commander Thire was part of Senator Chuchi’s detail he was also placed in charge of watching the floor. The Guard was rearranged, with more senior members being moved to the gala detail and more junior members being shuffled to fill the vacant positions for the time being. This was one of the upsides of the Chancellor’s new uniform rules. With an identical body they could rearrange themselves however they wished, and no one would know the difference. Thire, who had stuck with his regulation uniform despite the promotion, found it to be very convenient. He was becoming a fast favorite of the Chancellor, and the ability to swap himself in and out with his men as he pleased was agreeable to him. He still found it so even as he lined up with Jek and Impulse as they waited for Fox to finalize the Chancellor’s final security briefing. Without knowing his name or CT number, he looked like just another trooper in the detail. Tonight, it would allow him to run security on the senator and get a better feeling for the room than Fox would be able to, considering how his inverted armor would stand out from the trio of white. Though Fox would have a greater intimidation factor than he would. Altogether, Thire doubted that something could go wrong in the next few hours.
---
Riyo stepped back from the mirror to cast a final look over her appearance. Padme had been the one to pick out her dress, a full length light blue gown that fell over her skin in soft pillows of fabric. The folds that appeared to be formfitting concealed thick plates of body armor that covered her torso. Very practical, very Padme. Riyo tucked a stray hair back behind her ear, not that it would matter after the speeder ride to the gala, and ensured that she’d grabbed the right tube of dark purple lipstick for her purse. She felt very regal.
Her doorbell chimed.
Checking over the contents of her purse one last time, she nearly ran to answer the door. Opening it she found four clones standing before her.
“Commander Fox, Commander Thire, Impulse, and I’m not sure I’ve ever caught your name.”
“Jek, ma’am.”
“Nice to meet you, Jek.” She stepped out of the door, closing it behind her before setting off towards the apartment complex landing platform. “Thank you all for your protection. I believe that Chairman Papanoida is merely being paranoid, but I feel much safer with you here.”
“Always a pleasure, Senator.” Said Thire, falling behind her in the escort. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you look stunning tonight.”
She giggled. “Thank you, Commander. I didn’t know that clones ever considered looks.”
“You wouldn’t know if you only knew Fox, ma’am.” Jek said, looking to the right at his commander. “He’s regulation cut, a good boy. No tattoos or fancy hair.”
Fox looked left at Jek. “Tattoos are the mark of a clone with too much spare time. Are you trying to tell me you’re bored, Jek? I can pass that on to the janitorial staff if you like. You wouldn’t imagine the things that they find in bathrooms. Could be useful to have a Guard member on the team.”
“With all due respect, sir. I’d rather lick the ground of the Undercity.”
From behind Riyo, Impulse spoke up. “I’m sure the commander could arrange that too! He could prepare your medical papers ahead of time.”
Riyo shuddered, though she was still grinning. Maybe having an escort for the night wouldn’t be as boring as she thought. “I’m sure medical would be preferable to cleaning up after one of Senator Orn Free Taa’s parties.”
Fox scoffed. “No comment.”
When they reached the speeder, Jek was the first one in. He held out his hand to Riyo and she took it, accepting the boost up into the vehicle. Impulse immediately followed her and the two clones took a seat on each side of her in the middle row. Thire and Fox still stood next to the speeder, and she watched Fox take off his helmet and hand it over to Thire before he ducked under the vehicle.
Thire caught her stare. “Additional anti-theft devices, ma’am. Makes placing undercarriage bombs harder, but you also have to turn the damn thing off.”
“Does the benefit outweigh the trouble, Commander?”
Fox popped back up, running a hand through his regulation hair, loosening a few curls. “Not at all, Senator.” She took in his face. As Jek had said, he had no tattoos, visible ones at least, but a few white lines of scar tissue crossed his throat. He looked tired. Fox took his helmet back from Thire and vaulted over the speeder door into the driver’s seat, taking a drink of water from a small canteen at his hip before putting his helmet back on. Thire sat behind her, facing backwards. Shielded on all sides, she relaxed. She had a feeling that the commander of the Coruscant Guard was what many beings called a ‘defensive driver’.
“Buckle up or be bucked.” Jek kicked the back of Fox’s chair lightly.
“That was one time.” Fox mumbled, pulling off the landing pad to join the lanes of air traffic.
“One time?” Riyo exclaimed.
“I saw our target and went for him, Senator. I assumed that any of my men would have the good mind to buckle up before going on a high-speed chase for a bounty hunter.”
“I almost died, Fox.”
“But you didn’t.” Fox made a sound as if he was going to say more, then turned his attention back to the traffic.
“Commander Thorn saved me, grabbed my ankle just in time.” Jek mumbled, the helmet vocabulator barely picking up the sound.
“I heard about Scipio, I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good man.” Riyo remembered him as the man who had once fully taken over her apartment with troopers after a threat on her life and personally installed security sensors on all her windows and doors. She’d ended up sleeping on the couch that night while he secured her bedroom. Afterwards, she had run into him often in the Senate halls, and always with a crack about how her window frame had never been the same.
Fox sighed. “He was the best of us.”
Thire was the first one out of the vehicle when they arrived at the Galactic Museum, followed shortly by Impulse and Riyo. She gratefully accepted his hand as she exited the speeder, heels and speeders never seemed to get along, and was followed shortly afterwards by Jek and Fox.
“You know the drill, Senator Chuchi. Enjoy your evening and pretend that we’re not watching your every move.”
“Thank you, Commander. I have enjoyed and will continue to enjoy your company tonight.”
The gala was a beautiful event. Held in honor of the founding of the Republic, all of the Senators and well-to-do of the city had been invited. Riyo spotted many beings who she knew only by name or by reputation amongst the crowd. She was not the only one with an escort, and she found a little comfort in that she wouldn’t stand out for being accompanied by the clones. Though the clones themselves stood out. She caught more than one being staring at the red-armor commander at her right side, and she couldn’t help a small twinge of jealousy. She wondered if she could convince one of the boys to dance with her. Perhaps not Thire or Impulse, they seemed busy scanning the floor for threats, but she was sure that Jek wouldn’t mind and she wondered if she could even convince Commander Fox to take her out on the floor. Then she realized how much she would stand out for dancing with a clone, red or white, and how that could negatively impact their positions in the Coruscant Guard. Many of the beings here were the type that didn’t like to be reminded of the humanity of the clones and she didn’t want to bring their outbursts down on her companions. She stuck to the edges of the rooms instead, where she could find many more senators who were not comfortable with mingling with the rich in the middle of the floor. Here she found solace in discussing some of the exhibits with those she considered to be her allies in the Senate, and occasionally with the clones if she noticed something intriguing in passing. They wouldn’t speak to her unprompted but would gladly respond when spoken to.
Towards the end of the night the crowds thinned out and she and her escort walked freely through even the middle of the rooms.
“There was an exhibit on the ice formations of Hoth that I would like to see again. Would that be suitable, Commander Fox?”
“Yes, ma’am. If you take a right before the mock mythosaur there is a shortcut that we can take if it pleases you.” Of course he knew the layout.
She weaved her way through the remaining guests, noting that it was mostly senators in this room, and passed through the small passage that Fox had recommended. This hall, Natural Formations of Wonder, was mostly empty save for a small crowd gathering around the volcanic glass from Mustafar. Across the room, there was a temperature-controlled case containing the formations she wanted to see.
“I didn’t see ice until I was thirteen, you know.” She spoke as they crossed the room. “Pantora is marshy by nature. My father took me to Scipio with him when he served as the Pantoran Senator. I’d never seen anything like it before.”
“We can relate, Senator.” Thire spoke up. “Kamino, our homeworld, is oceanic. Fox thought that the Kaminii were lying about trees for the longest time.”
A huff of air that could have been part of a laugh escaped Fox’s vocabulator. “I’m still not too sure about forests.”
“You need to get out more.” Jek reached over Riyo to give Fox’s shoulder a light shove. “Breathe the fresh air.”
“Never heard of it.” Fox shook his head lightly and went back to scanning the room. Riyo felt a stab of pity for the commander and made a note that she would have to find a way to get him off-world with her somehow, if only so he could experience fresh air.
“Do you miss Kamino?” She ventured, keeping her gaze on the ice crystals before her so that none of the men felt that they were being put on the spot.
There was silence around her until Impulse spoke. “I don’t think any of us have that option, Senator.”
“Well, if you could be on any planet in the galaxy right now, which one would you choose?” More silence greeted her question.
“Naboo.” Thire said, breaking the tension. “It’s nice there. I don’t think that we clones view Kamino as you view Pantora, Senator Chuchi. It’s the closest thing we have to a home, but it’s not ours. Personally speaking, my home is my brothers. It’s not tied to a place. I don’t miss my homeworld because my home is always with me, waking up at the ass-crack of dawn.”
Riyo laughed, turning away from the ice. “I believe I am ready to depart, before dawn finds us here instead of in our beds.”
“As you wish, Senator.”
They started back across the room the same way they had spent the evening, Fox and Jek at her side, Thire and Impulse behind her. But now there was no crowd to push through, and no chance of one as the group admiring the Mustafarian glass had departed. Riyo let her gaze wander around the room, taking in the natural marvels one last time. Her attention was grabbed by the sudden turn of Fox’s helmet as he looked up into the catwalks of the vaulted ceiling. She followed his gaze, but saw nothing.
“Senator!” Fox stepped back, grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her to the ground. The force brought her to her knees, and her head was pushed down as Fox covered her body with his own. He pulled her in with his left arm so that she was pressed against him, fully shielded from behind. Jek knelt in front of them, rifle drawn over Fox’s shoulder as he scanned the room around them. It was silent. Riyo watched Fox slowly bring a pistol out from its holster with his right hand. Thire and Impulse swept through the room, with the former going up into the catwalks. They gave the all clear minutes later as Thire rejoined the group. Fox and Jek eased away from Riyo, and she sat up straight. Fox didn’t move from behind her, and she stayed put as the four guards continued to visually scan the room. Then there was a flash of movement on her right. The sniper was fast, but Fox was faster. His hand had never left her side, and now he brought her close to himself as he twisted his body down to shield her.
The was a whistle and a crack. Fox’s grip around Riyo’s waist faltered and the two crashed into the ground. Riyo couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her lips, and Fox pulled her closer to his body to continue to shield her, curling around and over her tiny form. Another shot rang out and Fox clutched her even tighter to his chest. Her hands clung to his arm as if the touch would save her life. Perhaps it would. Two of the men, she couldn’t tell their boots apart, moved to stand over her and Fox, rifles raised towards where the shots had come from. There wasn’t a third shot.
One of the men standing above them raised his comm. “This is Commander Thire requesting a medic in Natural Formations, Commander Fox is down. Activate Contingency Theta.”
“Get her out of here.” Fox mumbled. She could feel the vibrations in his chest against the back of her head as he spoke. His grip on her waist relaxed. Riyo realized that he had been hit.
“Yes, sir.” Jek said. With Impulse and Thire standing guard Jek reached down and pulled Riyo from Fox’s grip.
“No, we can’t leave him!” She protested. She tried to pull away, but Jek’s grip on her arm was strong and soon she was surrounded by plastoid as she was taken away. Between Thire and Impulse she could see the motionless form of Commander Fox behind them, a black hole burning between his shoulder blades, another at his waist. She let out a quiet sob at the sight.
“He did his duty, Senator; you must do yours.” Thire said as the three men swept her away from the room.
#foxiyo#commander fox#commander thire#commander stone#riyo chuchi#clone trooper jek#my fics#illicit affairs fic
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Infinitesimal (part 52)
Author’s note: I have nothing to say for myself. But, hey, have a chapter! I’m hoping to get back into something closer to weekly updates between Infinitesimal and A Little Nightmare now that college apps are done, but I did just get a new puppy (his name is Rudy and he’s perfect), so we’ll see how that goes. Happy reading!
Warnings: injury and illness, fear, arguing, guilt, death mention
Word count: 2430
Infinitesimal Masterpost!
...
“You doing okay, kiddo?”
Patton, standing at Emile’s side, was currently bearing about half of Emile’s weight, Emile’s good arm slung around his shoulders.
Emile, his gaze fixed on the tabletop in front of him, made an affirmative noise and carefully took another step. Patton moved with him.
That question again, the one he kept hearing almost nonstop this past… had it already been over a week? Longer? Emile wasn’t sure. A lot of the time he had spent here was fuzzy, especially at the beginning, for obvious reasons. He still didn’t remember the event that put him in this situation at all, although he had a few snatches of memory from immediately after that he wasn’t overly keen on dwelling on. And he’d been sleeping more often than not, especially during those first few days.
So, he wasn’t quite sure how long he had been here. Too long, he felt. He wanted nothing more than to go home.
On the bright side, he was definitely improving. He was finally starting to get some of his energy back, his bruises had begun to fade, and his nausea was dying down, thankfully, so he was able to eat more as well. His arm was still broken, of course, as was the end of his tail, and his head wound was still something to consider; but he was getting better.
As time passed, Emile was starting to get restless, lying down all of the time. Logan had thought that was a good sign, that Emile was starting to get bored. It meant that he was getting well enough to care about more than just sleeping. Patton and Virgil seemed glad to see it too, although Emile was mostly just frustrated.
Because Emile’s ankle was no longer as swollen, his head was doing better, and Patton made a good crutch, the littles had decided that it would be okay to let him walk around, just for a short while, supervised, of course. Emile was eager to stretch his legs and to get some small part of his independence back. The humans had already gone for the day, off to their jobs, so it was just the three of them until evening with no interruptions.
They had used some of the supplies from the first-aid kit to put together a sling for Emile’s bad arm; and once that was finished and in place, they had carefully shifted him into a standing position, moving slowly. That had been the most difficult part, getting him up and out of the box, with no one wanting to accidentally make any injuries worse. Virgil had even lifted each of his feet over the lip of the box so he didn’t trip. That part might have been overkill, but Emile still wasn’t very well-coordinated, and they hadn’t wanted to take the risk.
Now, as Emile slowly shuffled across the tabletop, both Patton and Virgil were watching him like a hawk. Emile could hear the anxious tap of Virgil’s crutch tailing closely after them, where he held Emile’s tail aloft so that the injured part of it didn’t drag on the ground. Even considering the fact that Virgil was holding Emile’s tail, he stayed very close, following them like a shadow. He only had one crutch at the moment, since his other arm was full; but he had no trouble keeping pace.
It still felt weird to Emile, how their roles had suddenly swapped. He was the oldest. Usually the one in charge, the healthy brother, the one taking care of everyone else. He never held it against Virgil for being disabled, or, later, against Patton for being sick and, as Emile suspected and completely understood, afraid of leaving the walls. That was just the way things were, and Emile had accepted his role. But, now… it was strange, to be the one being taken care of. That rarely happened, save for when he occasionally got sick, and never lasted this long. It was nice, in a way, to not have that responsibility on him for once; but even ignoring the fact that it took being knocked from the top of a cabinet to give him that release, he couldn’t say that he liked it. It felt… infantilizing, at times, even though he knew he needed their help. He hoped that Virgil didn’t feel this way, when Emile tried to keep him from putting himself in danger. Emile knew that he had been rather strict, even if he did have good reasons.
Regardless of any discomfort, Emile was undeniably glad that Virgil and Patton had stayed with him. He knew how much of a sacrifice it had been for them to go to humans for help, and then to stay with them for days on end because Emile couldn’t leave. It was true that Roman and Logan only seemed to want to help, as terrifyingly huge as they were, and they’d been very gracious with offering whatever the littles needed without asking for much in return, even binging cartoons for a few hours each evening simply because Emile and Patton liked them. But they were still humans, and Emile was indescribably grateful that he didn’t have to face them alone. However nice they seemed, Emile was determined to get better as soon as possible, so that they could all go home. He knew that Virgil was still very much on edge around Roman and Logan, and Patton had already spent far too much of his life at a human’s mercy. Emile didn’t want Patton to feel trapped ever again.
“I think I’m done,” Emile grunted, coming to a halt. They’d only done two laps of the table—and not even the whole table, given that they were staying clear of the edges and the back quarter of the surface was covered in supplies—but sweat was beading up on his forehead, and he was starting to feel ill. “Sorry to cut our scenic stroll of ours short so soon.”
“That’s okay, Em,” Patton said, smiling at his friend’s attempt at humor. “There’ll be other walks. And you made it a lot further this time!”
“Hm,” was all Emile responded.
This was technically their second attempt at getting Emile to walk. On the first, he’d made it about six inches before needing to be basically carried back to the box. Emile had persuaded them to let him try again an hour later, with some more preparation. He had decided that the first try didn’t count.
Patton helped him back to the box, and he and Virgil very carefully guided him over the lip of the cardboard. They eased him down onto the blankets, the tension leaving Virgil’s frame only when he was back down. Emile let out a small sigh, shifting to get comfortable.
“How are you doing?” Virgil checked, sitting beside him.
“I’m good, Virge,” Emile said.
Virgil looked doubtful. Fair enough, Emile supposed.
“Well, kinda tired, but that’s not a surprise.”
He looked down, nodding, twisting his hands in his lap. “We’ve still got a while before they get home, if you want to take a nap.”
Emile shook his head, only enough to be noticeable, watching Virgil’s seemingly subconscious fidgeting. “That’s all I’ve been doing.”
“Okay… but, like, you didn’t hurt yourself, did you? Is your head okay?”
“It’s fine.” He did feel dizzy, but it wasn’t too bad, considering.
“Your tail?”
“Doesn’t even hurt,” he answered honestly. Of course, whether that was good or bad was still up for debate. But Emile thought it was good—he still didn’t have full feeling in the tip of his tail, but he was growing surer and surer that he had some feeling in it.
“And your ankle?”
Emile supposed that Virgil would only get more suspicious if he claimed to be completely fine. “A bit sore, maybe. I tried not to put too much weight on it.”
Virgil bit his lip. “Let me look at it.” He slid over to Emile’s feet and partially rolled up his pant leg, inspecting the ankle. Emile felt his cool fingers gently probe at it, inspecting. He mumbled something to himself. Emile watched him for a moment, then looked over at Patton, who was sitting on his other side, with a meaningful expression.
Patton, in turn, shifted and cleared his throat.
“So,” he said, hesitantly when Virgil looked up, “I was, um, I was thinking of maybe going home for a bit, just to grab some things.”
Virgil paused, halfway through rolling Emile’s pant leg back down. “By yourself?” he said, concerned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Patton glanced at Emile, who gave him a small, encouraging nod. “I’ll be okay. I won’t rush. And I know you have to stay here, kiddo, which is fine. I’ll be fine alone, promise.”
“Is it important? I think we have everything we need.” He frowned, clearly thinking that if it was important, it would have come up sooner.
Patton glanced at Emile again. “It’s important,” he confirmed.
Virgil still looked unconvinced.
“If he thinks he can do it, he probably can,” Emile nudged. “I think we should let him go.
“Since when are you mister ‘let’s let everyone go off by themselves’?” Virgil said with a frown. Then he caught himself and broke off, glancing away.
Emile sighed.
“I’ll be careful,” Patton said once more.
Virgil groaned. “Okay, okay, fine; but if you’re not back tonight, I’m coming after you.”
Patton gave him a sad look at that, clearly aware that Virgil would never actually leave Emile alone in the human apartment. All he said, though, was, “I will be.”
Ten-odd minutes later, Patton had gathered what he needed for the trip—with help from Virgil, who fluttered around him the whole time like a nervous moth—and he departed, using the hook and rope to slowly climb down to the floor. Virgil watched him until he disappeared into the wall, then reluctantly returned to Emile.
They sat in silence for a long moment, Virgil looking to the side and absently picking at a seam in his jacket. He shifted, fidgeting, occasionally glancing at Emile and away again.
“Virgil, what’s going on?” Emile asked. “Is something worrying you?”
“What, you mean like Patton going up two floors by himself? That kind of something?”
Emile didn’t waver. “No, you’ve been acting weird all day. What is it? Are you okay?”
“I’m great.”
Emile glanced up at the high ceiling above, then back at his younger brother. “Do you how do?”
Virgil blinked, then shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“That’s not news. Tell me what’s up.”
Virgil glanced at him again, then let out a long, disgruntled sigh. “It’s just… I don’t know, you’re doing better and stuff, and I was thinking… or, um, I guess I wanted to ask….” He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly, looking as if he wished he were just about anywhere else.
“Ask what?” Emile leaned his head back on the blankets he sat propped against, watching his brother.
“I don’t know… I mean….” He sighed, frustrated, then looked back up. “Do you remember… We talked, before you went on that trip. The one where… you know.” He winced. “Do you remember our conversation?
Emile frowned. “I think so,” he said slowly, shifting to look at Virgil better and squinting his good eye. “I’m kinda fuzzy. Could you remind me?”
“Yeah, ’course… Um, we were talking about your trip and stuff, and I wanted to go with you, but you said no. And I argued because that’s kind of my thing. And I asked you why you were still mad at me, because I guess I figured I’d proved myself with Patton and everything… and, um, you said it was because I didn’t tell you about Patton before I brought him home. Because you thought…. It seemed like I thought you wouldn’t have wanted to help Patton.”
Emile glanced away. “Right. I remember now.”
“Anyway, uh, I just wanted to… you know—I knew you’d be okay, obviously, and stuff, but—that would have really sucked if that was our last conversation. Like, really sucked. I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. It hadn’t been the best talk to end things on, even if Virgil had apologized at the end of it, and the guilt had been gnawing at him for a while now. Because even if that hadn’t been there last conversation, it could have been. Patton had actually left the house during the argument, frightened by how heated they’d gotten—something Virgil had already apologized for, but also still felt guilty about. “And like I said, I really am sorry about the stuff with Patton. I should have told you about him sooner, so you could help, not just showed up at home with him. I’m sorry.”
“I already forgave you for that, Virge,” Emile said. “But thank you.”
“I just… I know you would have helped him. I know you would have. I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t trust you.”
Emile reached out his good hand, and Virgil took it.
“I just wanted to tell you again, because… I don’t know. I wanted to make sure you knew. I’m sorry.”
Emile swallowed. “Well, if we’re apologizing for things… I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t trust you.”
Virgil blinked at him, taken off guard.
“I know, even with everything, I’m too strict sometimes. And I know how it stinks, to be stuck on the outside—or inside, I suppose, technically. Now more than ever.” He glanced down at himself with a grimace. “It was never about you, Virge. I just… I get scared. After everything that happened, with your foot and your tail… it just felt safer, to keep you away from that. I just… I never want you to go through something like that again.” He swallowed. “But I know that wasn’t my choice to make, even if I know you never really followed my rules. You’re an adult. You can make your own choices.”
There was a long silence after that, so long that Emile wondered if Virgil was going to respond at all.
“You’re just trying to distract me from Patton, right?” Virgil finally said, ducking his head so his chin disappeared into his hoodie.
“No, no. And this isn’t the concussion talking either.” Emile squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Well… that makes two of us, then, I guess.”
“We’re never going back to the seventh floor, though.”
Virgil winced. “Hell, no.”
#sanders sides#thomas sanders#ts sides#infinitesimal!sides#g/t#gt#giant tiny#sanders sides g/t#sanders sides fan fiction#cartoon therapy#virgil sanders#emile picani#patton sanders#roman sanders#logan sanders#ts virgil#ts emile#ts patton#ts roman#ts logan#ts fanfic#fanfiction#infinitesimal fic
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
After Hours - A Professor Loki fanfic
Summary: Evelyn Monroe has been a TA for professor Laufeyson’s Calculus course for four months now. He was known to be quite strict, but that never deterred her from applying for the position in order to be close to the man she had been secretly pining for. One evening, she returns to his office after opening hours… and with her bountiful luck, she walks in on something not meant to be seen.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Eventual Romance/Smut
Pairing: Loki / Original female character
Chapters: 1/?
Words: 1681
A/N: The professor Loki fanfic you never asked for ;.; I was gonna wait till I had like… six chapters written in advance till I posted this, but fuck it. I’m fairly consistent, so you don’t have to worry about ‘when the fuck is this gonna update!?’ Anyway, let me know if it’s good so far.
Come check this out, babes!: @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101
_________________
“Excuse me! Sorry, please move! I said move!”
Evelyn spoke as she weaved her way through the busy hallway, bee-lining straight towards Professor Laufeyson’s office.
She had been absent not once, but three times the past two weeks for each one of their meetings, and she could feel that his patience had long vanished.
Until now, being a TA for his calculus course had been smooth sailing - contrary to what herself, and everyone else who had taken his class thought.
When Evelyn opted to take calculus the previous semester, she had already braced herself for failure. Math had never been her strong suit, barely passing even the most basic of classes despite her studious nature.
But under his tutelage, Evelyn had unexpectedly grown a deep love for the subject - and the professor himself.
In class, while professor Laufeyson could be unbearably strict most times, he never failed to find innovative ways to make each lecture fun and engaging. Not only that, he was extremely patient with her when she came for extra help during his office hours. She had even breached his lunchtime on multiple occasions, and not once did he turn her away.
That was why after passing his course with flying colors, Evelyn decided to apply for the TA position as soon as it opened. Admittedly, she had grown attached to the man; not only was he knowledgeable in mathematics, but with subjects ranging from history, literature - anything she could possibly think of.
But now, as she raced towards his office, she steeled herself for a harsh tongue-lashing from her scary professor. One thing that professor Laufeyson hated the most, was tardiness. He had been lenient with her thus far, and Evelyn feared he would think she was taking advantage of his good-will.
Reaching the door to his office, she swung it open in haste.
And there he sat, his mere presence exuding authority. One long elegant leg crossed over the other as he flipped idly through a book, not sparing a glance in her direction. He was even more intimidating with his sharp way of dressing; White dress shirt pressed to perfection, covered by a dark, slim- fit suit vest. Evelyn was a sucker for men in suits, and her professor wore them like no other.
She scuffled inside, closing the door behind her. Evelyn made sure to check if it was closed correctly - perhaps due to its age, the door refused to click most times.
After doing so, she walked to stand in front of his desk, shuffling awkwardly on her feet as she waited for him to speak.
It took several beats of silence before she finally heard his cold voice, “ Enlighten me…what day is it, Miss Monroe?”
Shit…what was today? “Uhm…Taco Tuesday..?”
He looked up from his book to give her a sharp look, “Is this a joking matter to you?”
“N..No..Nope! Uhm..I don’t- what… what was today suppose to be again?” Really Evelyn? Taco Tuesday? That’s the first thing that came to mind?
Sighing, her professor pinched the bridge of his nose before lifting a sheet of paper into view with two fingers.
Teaching Assistant Evaluation Form: Midterm Progress
“I am highly disappointed in the effort being displayed thus far, Miss Monroe. Out of all my other TA’s, I expected much more from you.”
Evelyn gaped stupidly at the paper in his fingers, and then began to panic internally. She had no idea TA’s had midterm evaluations, so she did plan on slacking a tiny bit until finals rolled around.
As an art major, taking three studio classes began to take its toll - so much that even professor Laufeyson became an afterthought. But now faced with the danger of failing, she would have to re-organize her priorities.
“I understand that you have a lot on your plate this semester. However, I would advise that you treat all responsibilities with equal priority.”
“Yes…I’m sorry professor, I promise to make up for all the lost time…”
The look he gave her after she said those words made her extremely uncomfortable. Sharp, and burning with intensity. Uh…did I say something wrong?
Having noticed that he must’ve looked off, he turned his head abruptly back to his book.
“Actions speak more than words, Miss Monroe. Now sit. You have much to make up for.”
And so, for the next three hours, Evelyn worked hard in the suffocating silence of his office grading one too many papers. Her professor never talked much, granted. But he wasn’t usually this quiet with her.
Over the past four months as his TA, they had developed a sort of… companionship. If you could call it that.
She was intimidated at first- and still is, but he was surprisingly easy to converse with. After she assisted him with whatever he had on his plate, they would usually fall into casual conversation, and talked about all manner of things that inevitably drew them closer.
But now…she could sense that he just was watching her, and she could barely concentrate on grading due to nerves.
Evelyn raised her head from the papers to chance a glance at her professor - and sure enough, he was staring at her with furrowed brows, and narrowed blue-green eyes.
What.. what’s his deal? He’s acting so weird…
Evelyn cleared her throat stiffly to breach the silence, “Uh… is everything okay?”
He shot her the unfriendliest look she had ever seen on his face, but spoke in a calm voice that did not match it, “You pull three no-shows, show up late, and then have the audacity to ask if everything’s okay?”
Welp…guess I shouldn’t have asked…
He closed the lid to his book a bit too harshly, causing Evelyn to jump slightly in her seat at the sudden sound.
“You’ve done enough, you may take your leave.”
Evelyn glanced down at the pile of papers she barely managed to make a dent in, “ Oh..but-”
“It is lunchtime, and I’d like to eat in peace. Now please leave.”
At his stern command, Evelyn gathered her things quickly before walking to the door. She glanced over her shoulder to look at her professor one more time, guilt weighing down her heart as she watched him gather the large pile of ungraded exams in front of him.
While she was a student in his class, professor Laufeyson always went above and beyond to make sure she knew the material and spared no effort in tutoring her when she asked for help. He was a busy man, so he rarely showed any other students the same courtesy.
But her lack of effort and laziness not only gave her a poor grade, but unnecessary stress to the person she admired the most.
No wonder he was so affronted with her. She was a terrible student, in addition to being a terrible friend.
Evelyn walked a little around campus aimlessly with a heavy heart, until she went inside a cafe across the street.
She loved the place - it had a cute little reading corner at the back, and she would always order a huge slice of lemon cake to eat while she studied.
And at the thought of cake… Evelyn was suddenly struck with an idea. She recalled, during one of their many casual conversations, that he mentioned having a bit of a sweet tooth.
Even if she couldn’t make up entirely for her poor work ethic, she could at least treat him to a nice, big slice of cake as a start.
After studying for a few hours, she went up to the counter to order the biggest slice of lemon cake they carried.
It was around six in the evening by the time she left the cafe, the skies now a dark purple hue as she scurried across campus with a large cake box.
The cake’s size was a bit overkill - but like her mama always said, go big or go home.
She just hoped he was still there around this time. More than likely he is, with the amount of work she left behind.
Evelyn entered the now empty building where his office was situated, taking care to walk as slowly as possible. She could be a bit clumsy when she was nervous, and at the moment her heart was beating a mile an hour.
Just give him the cake, apologize again, then head on home. No biggie.
He was really pissed with her earlier on though, and she hoped he cooled down considerably since then to accept her gift graciously.
As she slowly approached the office door, Evelyn paused.
Eh… the heck is that sound?
She walked closer to the door, and the sounds grew louder as she did.
Whack! Whack!
Slap!
Slap!
Evelyn was beyond perplexed. What in the world was he doing in there to make that sound?
She was about to knock when the sound of her professor’s velvety voice through the door caused her to go stock still.
“I am highly disappointed in you, Miss Monroe. Who told you to come?”
Evelyn shivered at the tone of his voice, her eyes growing wide.
How…how did he know I was here? And why’s he talking like that?
She plagued herself with so many questions that she felt herself turning silly.
’‘But… I suppose you’ve been a diligent, good girl. You may come now, Evelyn. Come for me.”
What the…I guess he wants me to come in then?
Without further confirmation, Evelyn twisted the knob to swing the door open.
“Uhm… I’m sorry for - Holy SHIT!”
Little did she know… it wasn’t the ’come in, have some tea!’ type of come, but the sexy, kinky kind.
Evelyn all but threw the cake inside the room with a surprised yelp, shocked at the sight that now tainted her poor virgin eyes.
Her beautiful professor… whom she secretly admired… was currently balls deep within a fortunate female victim - paddle in hand as he fucked her mercilessly against the obviously sturdy surface of his mahogany desk.
Good? Bad? Worth pursuing? Let me know~
220 notes
·
View notes
Note
Same anon. This question is related to ReShade versions. From what I can understand, the changes that can render old presets useless are those in the shaders, right? So, there isn't really a way to "port" those presets made in older versions to the newest one, no? Apparently 3.0.8 is the most popular for some reason, but most presets that work on it should be fine in 3.1.x, right? Could them still be good on 3.3.x or 3.4.x? Do newer presets work fine on older versions of RS? Thanks and sorry. ;;
This is going to be long. I’m thorough.
I answered an ask about version compatibility not too long ago, you should find it useful to read through. It goes into the basics about the difference between ReShade the tool and shaders as individual things that work with ReShade the tool. It might answer all your questions, but in case it doesn’t…
The reason a lot of people favour 3.0.8 is because shortly after that version Marty McFly, the author of the MXAO shader, rewrote it a little and changed a few things about it, meaning any preset that used the old version would need its MXAO settings updating if using the new shader instead. Some people prefer the older version of MXAO, and some people don’t want to faff around editing the MXAO settings (I am neither of those people!).
As I explain in the link above, however, there is absolutely no reason why the version of MXAO that came with 3.0.8 can’t be used with 3.4.1 (which is another popular version, and the last version of 3.x before they brought out 4.x). Any shader that was made for any 3.x version of ReShade can be used with any other 3.x version of ReShade. There were several improvements to the interface in between 3.0.8 and 3.4.1 which make it worth the upgrade in my opinion, but you can do so while keeping the shaders that came with 3.0.8 if you prefer.
You’re right to say presets rely more on specific shaders than they do on a particular ReShade version (barring major rewrites of ReShade the tool between major releases like from 2.x to 3.x, although 3.x presets should work with 4.x taking into consideration the things I’m going to say next).
I wrote Hazy Days and Blueberryade with 3.0.8 but use it quite happily with 3.4.1, having edited the MXAO settings after Marty rewrote that shader (which could have happened at any time, it just happened to be after the release of 3.0.8), and I know @harrie-cc is using Hazy Days and my more recent Clear Bloom with 4.3, and only encountered a couple of issues relating to the DoF shader (which is no big problem anyway since that’s one of the shaders you change up to suit a scene yourself).
So, any 3.x preset should work with any other 3.x version, as long as you’re mindful that you may need to tweak the MXAO settings (or just use the shaders appropriate to the version that was used when creating that preset). And you’ll probably find a lot of 3.x presets work fine with 4.x versions too, but I’d recommend a fairly decent working knowledge of ReShade before trying it in case you encounter any issues. Because if there’s one thing about ReShade it’s that it requires some heavy duty troubleshooting sometimes, and while solutions are usually quite simple and straightforward, being armed with the knowledge of how ReShade and shaders work first is going to cut down that troubleshooting time considerably.
As for 4.x presets being used on 3.x versions, that gets slightly more tricky.
When 4.x came out they rewrote how ReShade deals with sliders (when you put your mouse inside a box that has numerical values in it you can pull your mouse from side to side to change the value up or down). In 3.x that functionality was called ‘drag’, and in 4.x it’s changed to a different system called ‘slider’.
Now, 4.x has the potential to use either ‘slider’ or ‘drag’, depending on which you specify in the shader code. But 3.x doesn’t have the ‘slider’ functionality at all. This means if you’re using a 3.x shader in 4.x it will recognise where it says ‘drag’ and work appropriately. But it means if you use a 4.x shader in 3.x it won’t recognise where it says ‘slider’, and some settings will be missing from the shaders. This can be remedied by editing the shader code so wherever it says ‘slider’ you change it to ‘drag’, but that’s time consuming and a pain. By all means go ahead and do it (I’m using three shaders that were written for 4.x in 3.4.1 at the moment and they work more or less fine now I’ve edited the shader code), but it’ll probably be tedious. If you do do it, make sure you back up those shaders afterwards so you never have to do it again.
So, your two options for using a 4.x preset in a 3.x version of ReShade would be to either use it with 3.x shaders or use it with 4.x shaders.
The former would be easier on the face of it because you wouldn’t have to edit the shaders to say ‘drag’ instead of ‘slider’, but you might find that some of the shaders were rewritten when 4.x came out (which is the most usual time for shader authors to make changes to their shaders – although some (as we see with Marty) will do so whenever they feel like it) and so using 3.x shaders might mean some settings just aren’t there and the preset doesn’t look as it should anymore. And there might be some entirely new shaders that were introduced in 4.x that aren’t there at all in the 3.x shader packs.
The latter is, therefore, preferable, but comes with its own issues, namely having to edit all the ‘slider’ instances to say ‘drag’ instead.
So really, when it comes down to it, if you desperately want to use a preset that was made in 4.x, I’d recommend just installing 4.x because it will be a lot easier.
And if you want to use a 3.x preset and have 4.x installed, you can probably do so, but be aware you may have to tweak a few settings here and there to accommodate any shader rewrites that have happened in the meantime (which shouldn’t be too big a task if you’re comfortable tweaking settings in the ReShade menu).
The great thing is, however, it’s ridiculously easy to switch between different versions of ReShade, although not as simple as when just switching between presets, because you need to close down the game to do it.
Let’s say you have 3.4.1 installed, and you want to use 4.3 but not have to go through all the set-up for 3.4.1 again if you want to switch back. What you’d do is take the d3d9.dll, d3d9.log, and reshade.ini files that are inside your Bin folder and just put them instead in your reshade-shaders folder and rename that folder to something like reshade-shaders-341 so you know it has everything you need for that version. Then you can go ahead and install 4.3 from scratch, and it will install a new d3d9.dll, reshade.ini and reshade-shaders folder.
Then, if you want to switch back to 3.4.1, take the d3d9.dll, d3d9.log and reshade.ini that you installed with 4.3 and put them in your new reshade-shaders folder and rename that to reshade-shaders-43, take the d3d9.dll, d3d9.log and reshade.ini files out of the reshade-shaders-341 folder and place them back in your Bin folder and rename reshade-shaders-341 to reshade-shaders and it’ll work as it used to.
The steps above are good to do anyway so you have backups of your ReShade installation should anything happen. I have copies of ReShade and shaders going back to version 0.12… because you never know!
Backup, backup, backup everything!
So, that was an incredibly long response, but I get a bit obsessed with making sure people know why and how, because that’s what I want to know when I’m trying to figure something out, so I assume everyone else does too. Knowledge is power. And even if it’s overkill for what you wanted to know, anon, hopefully there’s someone out there who will find the information useful!
#reshade faq#reshade help#reshade troubleshooting#reshade tips#reshade#reshade versions#reshade installation#reshade compatibility
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
May 13, 2020. 2:50PM
Okay. So, I have been officially fired from my second job yesterday. You see, the reason why I opened this account again after two years was to trick my mom in believing that I’m still working with my former company. She thinks that I’m writing articles but I’m just updating this blog like a diary that I used to write when I was in high school.
I’m currently listening to a playlist that’s filled with music from the early 2000s to 2012. I mean come on, those years were tagged as the simpler times by twitter people and I couldn’t agree more. If I could remember, it was really the simpler times in life. Or so I thought? Maybe we were just oblivious in our surroundings since we were once kids. We were just focused in investing friendships, heartbreaks, childish breakdowns, and such. What’s the connection with music perhaps? Well, we can all admit that for every moment that we feel something, there’s music. Music is what keeps almost everybody going. It can make you feel something that you haven’t experienced before.
I don’t know... Maybe it’s just me. I tend to overthink things but I think this makes sense. Because, how can people that we know recommend music without them feeling that it’s relatable? Whistle by Flo-Rida is playing right now in the Youtube playlist that I’m listening to and I swear tons of memories flooded my mind as soon as the music started and a lot of them are high school memories.
When I was in my lowest point, I seriously considered making this blog known to my parents. And it’s weird that years after my lowest point, I’m still considering it. I’m not really close to my parents. There’s a fine gap ----a thick wall between us. I mean, I can only share bits and pieces of what I’m having. For instance, they only know that I resigned from my first job which was being a call center agent but they don’t know that I got fired by my boss yesterday. (Sucks, but I felt so free).
It was dragging (my second job) to be honest. Making you write 36 snippets daily? I mean, as a journalist, you can’t write 36 snippets daily. That’s an overkill. Mind you, the situation is that I have to work from home. Home is a place where you also have to do chores, eat, take a shower, take a dump, and rest. And this working from home stint is only good for a couple of weeks and not for a month. It’s really hard especially when your resources is just the internet and news companies itself. Their concern is to publish snippets that are not plagiarized. How can you write a snippet that’s already concise and written in a form of an article? There’s a huge possibility that you will be using the same words the writer of the article added on the paragraph.
One of my concerns as well is that they’re inconsiderate and they’re hard to talk to when it comes to my salary. And their concern is that I’m doing bare minimum? Well shit. Fuck your bare minimum. Making me check all of those company website and look for press releases that is NOT BEING UPDATED EVERY FREAKING DAY? That’s just being stupid and being inconsiderate. Anyway, let’s not talk about it. It’s just really frustrating.
But despite all of this, I’m still not saying that I got fired. I’m just gonna say that I resigned instead. Of course I have an agenda on Saturday. Since I’m already 21, I’m trying this stuff called casual relationships. I’m pretty much done with having a “serious” relationship. I didn’t really got any benefits there. Just stress and annoyance to my ex who got become really clingy and needy despite knowing that we were in a long distance relationship -----this is going to be made as a separate entry. Maybe tomorrow I’ll write one about this to make it look like to my parents that I’m typing an article but I’m really not.
Sorry mom. I just had to not tell you about this. I know this is going to disappoint you again but, I don’t really care. I just need a rest. I want to provide money for the family but this ain’t it. My heart’s not in it. My soul needs a rest or so I thought?
0 notes
Text
Chapter 19: Painkillers Won’t Ease The Pain
Fic Summary: “Everyone had a link with their soulmates, some could hear some of their partners thoughts, some had a tattoo that would appear with their partners name; for me, I knew when they got sick.” For a while Phil has thought that his soulmate might have an eating disorder and doesn’t expect to meet him in the restaurant where he works.
Genre: a lot of fluff, recovery, really fucking domestic, waiter!Phil
Warnings: eating disorders, anorexia, bulimia, hospitals, panic attacks, references to past abuse, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, a lot of awkwardness, small amounts of smut. This is potentially triggering so for your own sake, please think twice about reading if anything this might affect you.
Disclaimer: I don’t have personal experience with eating disorders, but have done some research. If I have anything about them wrong, feel free to send me an ask and I’ll sort it out.
Word Count (for this part): 6.8k
[Uploads will be approximately every couple of weeks! (hopefully)]
A/N: Apologies that this took so bloody long; I honestly don’t know where the time went. I can’t promise that the next update will be any quicker, but I’ll try my best. PLEASE NOTE, TW - MENTIONS OF SELF HARM IN THIS CHAPTER - thought I’d highlight that as it hadn’t come up until now.
MASTERPOST
<= Previous Chapter
Phil’s POV:
Dan’s brother was on his train up here long before Dan or I were out of bed. We awoke to a message on Dan’s phone; Adam telling him that he had changed trains for the final time and was now on the one that would take him the local station.
The last leg of the journey was about an hour long, so that gave us plenty of time to get up, get showered and dressed, eat breakfast and get organised.
We were picking Adam up at the station just after midday. I drove there so that Dan could get out to greet his brother while I waited in the car.
I parked in a space conveniently close to the station building. Dan let himself out and I sat in anticipation; I was unsure how the next few days would go. I knew that Adam’s soulmate issues wouldn't make it easy, but I didn't know how much it truly affected him. I guess now we would see.
Despite being stronger now, Dan's state of mental health probably wasn't ideal for having his brother's problems loaded onto his shoulders. I felt that I would likely be dealing with breakdowns from both of them, so I'd done my best to have as few work shifts as I could this week. Yes, I'd be working harder next week, but it would be worth it.
Dan greeted his brother with a couple of words, silent to me through the car window, and a hug which screamed how much Adam needed the support. His face was instantly buried in Dan's jacket, there being a slight height difference as Adam still hadn't finished growing. He looked just like a mini version of Dan, something I had thought before, when I met him for the first time.
Their hug lasted a good ten seconds and Adam finally retreated, Dan ruffling his brown hair in an annoying big-brotherly way. The resemblance between them was astounding, their hair almost exactly the same shade of brown and their posture very similar, with their faces even moving the same way when they spoke. If it hadn’t been for the eight or so years between them, I’d say they could almost pass as twins.
Dan took Adam's suitcase and wheeled it towards the car, opening the boot and lifting it in. Meanwhile, he told Adam to get in, so it wasn't long before the back door was opening for him to climb in.
“Hi Adam,” I said, turning around in my seat to speak to him, “How’re you doing?”
“Alright, I guess; could be better but I'll cope,” he replied, “Everything is just so difficult at the moment, trying to deal with what I'm feeling through my soulmate bond.”
“Aww, I feel for you, buddy,” I told him, “Although being one of the coolest, the telepathic ones are rarely all plain sailing.”
During our brief conversation, Dan had shut the boot and was now getting into the back seat next to Adam, “Right let's get going.”
“Are we just heading to you guys’ flat?” Adam asked.
“Yup,” Dan replied, “We thought it was best to let you get settled, we'll leave the going out until tomorrow.”
Back at the flat, Dan showed Adam to the guest room, Adam towing the wheely case behind him. I held back, taking a while to shut the front door as I didn't quite feel close enough to Adam to follow them into what was now his room for the next week.
I laid my keys down, took my coat off and sat in the living room, waiting for Dan to come back through. It was about five minutes before he appeared, but I got that he probably needed some time to speak to his brother in private.
“Hey,” he said, settling next to me on the sofa, “I'm giving him some alone time for... say half an hour. I asked him how the situation is with his soulmate. He's been really sad, miserable and depressed for the last week or so and Adam’s pretty sure he’s self harming now too. As you can imagine, Adam’s been feeling a bit down and he’s been in public for so many hours that I think he needs to be alone for a bit.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, “I can see why he needs time to himself, to get his thoughts in order. I can’t even imagine how it would be to deal with all that. Like I know all about feeling the need to help my soulmate and not being able to, but it’s on a whole ‘nother level for him.”
“Hmm,” Dan nodded, “I’m sorry if I made things difficult for you.”
“It’s fine,” I told him, hugging him, “It’s not your fault; mental health isn’t something you have much control of.”
“I wish I did,” Dan mumbled, “Like taking these antidepressants for my anxiety is helping a lot, maybe in more ways than one, but I’m still not right. Like I’m still having panic attacks, or whatever the fuck that was the other night and I don’t know how to help it. I hate not having control and I know the doctors are doing their best, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.”
“I think you should organise another appointment with your mental health therapist soon,” I suggested, gently intertwining my fingers with his, “You’ve said before that it’s helped, right?”
“Yeah, I think I will,” Dan said, “I’ll probably wait until after Adam’s gone home, because we’re probably already dragging him to the doctors once this week because you have your appointment on Friday.”
“Okay,” I nodded, “Yeah, we need to let him enjoy his stay here, but get it booked, okay.”
Dan nodded, probably adding it to a mental list of things he needed to do. I let myself cuddle with him, knowing that we weren't going to get much cuddling time as we were planning to avoid shoving our relationship in Adam's face.
“I hope Adam finds him soon,” I mumbled after a while, getting back onto the subject of Adam’s soulmate.
“Yeah,” Dan nodded, “It’s not nice seeing him in so much pain and distress. I wish there was more we could do to help.”
Around half an hour after he'd left Adam, Dan went back to check on him and see how he was doing. He was only away for five minutes, this time returning with Adam, an arm slung around him protectively.
Taking in the slight redness around his eyes and the way he sniffed loudly, I could tell he'd been crying a bit. I guess Dan had dragged him out of there for a change of scenery and some company to distract him.
Dan sat down with him on the other sofa, talking to him in a such a soft tone that I would need to be closer to hear it. Taking account of his runny nose and damp eyes, I got up to get some tissues. I could see that Dan was doing his best to comfort him emotionally, but he’d maybe forgotten about the physical side of things.
In mine and Dan's bathroom cupboard, I found a box of tissues. Maybe it seemed a bit overkill to take him the whole box, but I could sense that it wouldn't be the only time we'd need them. I took them through to Adam, opening the box as I went and having a tissue ready to pass to him when I got there. Adam sniffed a 'thanks’ and I laid the box of tissues on the couch next to him, in case he were to need another.
“Phil, you know those amazing hot chocolates you make?” Dan asked suggestively, nodding at Adam while he blew his nose.
“Sure thing,” I responded, getting the jist, that he thought Adam could do with one.
I got up and made my way to the kitchen, where I made a hot chocolate while subtly watching Dan and Adam through the doorway.
I could hear snippets of their conversation and it sounded like Dan was trying to be a comforting big brother, “It sounds like he’s being kept an eye on, yeah? His parents don’t know about you yet, so they have no reason to do anything radical yet.”
“Yeah, but he feels really really sick of hiding it and he's depressed because he knows they'll disown him when they find out,” Adam responded.
“Let’s hope you’ll meet him before then,” Dan said positively, “We’re going to go out tomorrow, get you out and about amongst people and see if anything happens. There’s no saying he lives near to us, but you’re destined to meet him pretty soon, so it’s more possible than not.”
“Can’t we go out today?” Adam asked, “Like I just want to get a feel for my surroundings.”
“There’s not a lot left of today, but sure, if that’s what you feel like,” Dan replied, “Phil’s making you a hot chocolate, but after you’ve drunk that, we can go for a little walk around town.”
Once I’d given it it’s final stir, I carried the hot chocolate into the living room and across to Adam, who was now sitting up and looking a little bit less miserable. I passed him the drink and retreated to the other sofa.
As Adam slowly sipped at the hot chocolate, Dan mentioned to me how he and Adam were going to go for a walk and did I want to join them? I said that I would, feeling like I would enjoy some fresh air and it would be an opportunity to get to know Adam a little better.
There was a small smile on Adam’s face by the time he’d finished the hot chocolate, which was a positive sign. He laid the cup down on the table and looked over at me, “That was great, Phil. Thank you.”
“S’no problem,” I replied, with a light hearted laugh, “Glad it helped.”
The three of us left the living room to get ready for our walk. Dan seemed to disappear into Adam’s room with him for a bit, so after I visited the bathroom and put my own coat on, I got Dan’s coat and shoes out for him. I double checked that he had his emergency anxiety medicine in his pocket and grabbed a bottle of water to take with us.
Before long, we were all ready to go. Dan had been talking to Adam while he put his shoes on, I guess being a further distraction against what was going on in his head. We locked up, made our way down the stairs, and into the outside world.
My subconscious had my hand trying to find Dan’s, but the second my hand touched his, he batted me away.
“Sorry,” he said, leaning over to mumble in my ear, “Remember we’re not shoving what we have in his face.”
Mentally face-palming myself, I let my hand drop back to my side and then slipped it into my pocket. Dan flashed me another apologetic look and reluctantly put his own hands in his pockets too.
“We should walk to your restaurant and back,” Dan suggested, “That way, Adam can see where you work and we’ll get to show him most of town on the way.”
“Good idea,” I agreed, turning right out of the gate and leading the way.
Conveniently, the pavement was wide enough to accommodate the three of us across it, so we walked in a line, Dan, then Adam, then me.
For heading there, I decided that I would avoid my usual shortcuts and we’d take the main roads to help Adam to get a better understanding of the area. We could take the shortcut on the way back if we wanted.
As we walked along the main street, Dan pointed out a few of the best shops, the road that led down to the park and a number of other things. I got the odd word in now and then, but Dan was doing a pretty good job as tour guide so I left him to it. I probably still knew the area in general better than him, so I'd probably be taking the lead on the way back if we took the shortcut.
We stopped in the restaurant car park for five minutes before we headed back. We told Adam that this was where I worked, and Dan added in that if was also where we met.
I noticed Adam eyeing up the menu on the wall and studying it in close detail, “The food sounds pretty good; will I get to try it?”
Seeing Dan's hesitant glance at me, I replied, “I don't know… Dan has been in here since we met, but it doesn't hold the best memories for him. We’ll think about it.”
Dan shot me a thankful look but I could see that he was losing focus on the conversation.
“Ahh yeah… Let's not if it'll make Dan uncomfortable,” Adam said, also looking at Dan concernedly, as he didn't react to his name being said.
“Dan,” I said firmly, placing a hand on his back, “Earth calling, you in there?”
“Sorry,” Dan mumbled, slightly dazed, “I'm fine.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, hoping he might explain where his thoughts had been.
“Just kinda remembered some of what happened that night,” he explained, “Don't really want to talk about it.”
Respecting his decision, I rubbed my hand up and down his back a couple of times before dropping it back to my side, “Right, let's head home. I know a shortcut that's a little quicker.”
As we walked, Dan was almost silent and it seemed to be me doing most of the taking. Something didn't seem right, and I knew that just seeing the restaurant wouldn't have provoked that reaction by itself.
When we stopped at a pedestrian light, I got the chance to mumble something to Dan, “I know you're not wanting to, but please just take my hand if you need to, yeah?”
Dan nodded, but kept his hands in his pockets. As we passed a cafe that I didn't really know, Dan seemed to glance inside out of curiosity. I guess he didn't really know this part of town. It was after that I noticed Dan slowing down and breathing very deeply. I could feel the panic radiating off of him, but I had no idea what had triggered it.
“Dan, d'you want to stop for a minute?” I asked, bringing my arm around him.
“No, need to keep going,” he said, walking a little faster.
I slightly ignored Adam in trying to figure out what was up with Dan, but he was still keeping up, walking next to me but not saying anything.
Dan slowed down again after a minute, this time more than accepting of the arm around him. He was still breathing too quickly and looking a little flustered, but he didn't seem to be having a full on panic attack.
I pulled him into a half hug, forcing him to stop walking. I laid my hand on his chest and felt as he attempted to take big slow breaths.
“What's wrong?” I asked him, using my soft, caring voice and keeping an arm around him to make sure he felt safe.
“N-nora works in that cafe back there and I saw her through the window,” Dan spluttered.
“Okay,” I nodded, now understanding the situation, “You're safe, she's not going to get you. You're doing well, just keep up your breathing.”
Dan nodded into my side, focusing back on his breathing again. I could feel that he was a bit shaky, but it was nothing compared to some of his panic attacks.
“D'you want to take your medicine or d’you think you're okay?” I asked him.
“I don't know,” he groaned.
Seeing that he wasn't jumping at the chance to take it, it couldn't be too bad. I agreed with that from what I could see from his physical symptoms.
“Okay, I don't think you need to, but let me know if you do,” I told him, “We're only about ten minutes away from home now; you good to keep going?”
“Yeah, I just want to be home now,” Dan said, as we started to walk again, “Also could I have that water? My throat’s really dry.”
I handed Dan the bottle of water I had brought, which he accepted like a panting dog, readily downing some of it to quench his thirst.
Adam hadn't said much during the whole exchange, but now he spoke up, “Just wondering what's for dinner?”
“Lentil and tomato pasta, and I think we have garlic bread if you want,” I told him, the meal having been carefully chosen to suit a lactose intolerant, a recovering anorexic and a fussy fifteen year old.
I knew that I wouldn't be able to have the garlic bread thanks to it having garlic butter and Dan probably wouldn't eat it, so it seemed only sensible to offer it to Adam.
“Sounds good,” he mused, “I’m starting to get hungry.”
“Well that’s okay, I’m going to start making it when we get in,” I told him, “You won’t have to wait too long.”
Once we were home, I had a couple of minutes in private with Dan. From what I had seen, he had pretty much recovered from his mild anxiety spell, but I wanted to make sure that he was okay emotionally, as well as just on the surface. Dan assured me that he was feeling better, grabbed a blanket and headed off to the living room to be with Adam whilst I cooked.
Soon enough, I had a vat of pasta sauce on one burner and a pot of pasta gently simmering on another. Adam and Dan were having an in-depth conversation about video games in the living room. I was glad to see them talking about their shared interests rather than just their problems. Adam particularly needed something to get his mind off what was going on; clearly he’d still see and feel it in his head, but if the focus was shared with something else, he wouldn’t feel the pain quite as strong.
Filling a glass of water for Dan and making a glass of ribena for myself, I called out to ask Adam what he would like, “Adam, what d’you want to drink?”
“What’ve you got?” he asked, directing the question more at Dan as he was closer.
“Apple juice, orange juice, ribena, milk, wat…” Dan listed.
“Milk would be good, thanks,” Adam replied loudly, cutting off Dan’s list.
I felt a pang in my heart at the mention of milk. I tried not to feel sad about it, but every time it crossed my mind that I couldn’t have milk anymore, I thought about the full extent of the things that I wouldn’t be able to eat.
“Sure,” I replied, my voice cracking slightly as I replied.
I hid myself by opening the fridge, hoping that Dan hadn’t noticed the falter in my emotional stability. I needed to be the strong one here; I couldn’t let something so small get me down.
“I’ll come and help,” Dan called out, the sound of the sofa moving as he got up filtering through to my ears.
I heard Dan’s footsteps as he walked into the kitchen, then felt his presence as he came up behind me and pressed his body gently up against mine.
“Phil,” he murmured softly, “It's okay. I wish you didn't have to deal with this, but things'll improve after this week, yeah.”
I could feel myself slowly starting to lose my control, so I hid my face in my hands and turned towards Dan, resting my head against his shoulder.
“D'you want to go to our room and take a couple of minutes to get yourself sorted out?” Dan asked, “I'll take care of serving the food and I'll come and get you once it's out.”
I nodded, waiting for Dan to let me free from his embrace. As I turned to go, Dan stopped me and pressed a small kiss to my forehead, “Breathe slowly, try and keep yourself calm. It works the same way.”
I left Dan and the warmth of the kitchen and made my way to our room, feeling tears pricking in the corners of my eyes. I took a couple of deep breaths, following Dan's advice to try and sort myself out.
Dan's POV:
I’d encouraged Phil to head to our room to try and calm down, but the second he'd gone, I wondered if that had been the right thing to do.
On one hand, I felt like he needed to be alone, but on the other, I felt like I should be comforting him. Not being able to decide, I thought I'd give him a bit of both. I'd get the dinner served and then go and see how he was doing. Adam could get tucked into his food and if Phil needed time, then I'd give him it.
I poured a glass of milk for Adam and placed it next to the other two glasses that Phil had filled. I carried the three of them through and placed them on the dining table.
Adam looked up when I entered the room, “Is something up with Phil?”
Realising that Adam must've seen or heard some of our exchange, I thought I'd better explain, “He got diagnosed as being lactose intolerant the other day and he's struggling to come to terms with it.”
“That's a milk allergy, right?” Adam asked.
“Kind of,” I started, heading back to the kitchen to serve the pasta, but talking meanwhile, “Lactose is a sugar in milk, rather than just milk in general. And it's not like a sneezing, rash, can't breathe kind of reaction. It gives him a really sore stomach and sometimes makes him a bit unwell.”
Once I'd finished explaining, I brought through the three plates of food and laid them on the table.
“Adam, you get started,” I told him, “I'm going to get Phil and I don't know how long we'll be.”
I made my way to mine and Phil's room and gently pushed the door open, “Phil?”
Phil wasn't in the bedroom, but I could hear some water running in our bathroom. The bathroom door was wide open, so I poked my head around to find Phil washing his face.
Noticing the slightly red-rimmed eyes he was splashing water on, I approached him, resting a hand on his back, “Phil, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, his voice sounding a little rough.
“You've been crying,” I stated, letting him know that I knew, “You sure you're okay?”
Phil was usually fairly strong emotionally and I knew he didn't let down the strong façade that easily, but I had to do what I could to help him when I knew he was feeling down. Phil squeezed his eyes shut and I could see a couple of droplets fall from his eyes and run down his already wet cheeks. I pulled him into a hug, trying to give him the support he needed. Phil cried quietly into my chest for a minute, before a violent sob erupted from him.
“Hey, it's okay,” I murmured, attempting to be comforting as he unleashed a second sob.
With Phil now sobbing loudly, he was talking massive gulps of air in between and I could tell it wasn't helping him. Okay, he wasn't having a panic attack, but getting control of your breathing generally helps to control crying, whatever the situation.
I walked Phil back into our room and sat with him on the edge of the bed. I did what he'd done for me so many times and encouraged him to breathe with me, making sure it was nice and controlled.
I continued to rub my hand slowly up and down his back and I occasionally lifted my other hand to his face to wipe some of the tears away.
Eventually, Phil reached a calm enough state to get a couple of words out, “Sorry, I kinda lost control.”
“It’s okay,” I told him, “Honestly… We're all going through difficult times and you have the right to cry as much as you need to. Obviously, it would be easier if you didn't, but I'm here for you. Just speak up if you need some support, okay.”
Phil nodded and rubbed his eyes, sniffing a little bit. I handed him a tissue and put my arm around him as he blew his nose, “You ready to go and get dinner now?”
I knew I'd been trying to avoid much PDA around Adam, but I put my arm around Phil as we walked out of our room and along to our dining table. I only dropped it back to my side when we had to split to sit down.
At first, we ate in near silence, but as we all started to get our energy back, we became more talkative. Phil was back to his usual self by the time we were finished, cheerily heading off to do the dishes.
--
We watched a couple of films in the evening, something that didn’t require much effort from any of us. It had all been going well and we were halfway through our second film when I noticed Adam was acting oddly. His attention was elsewhere and he was biting his lip, his right hand firmly clamped around his left wrist. It only took me a couple of seconds to figure out what was happening, thanks to what he’d told me earlier about his soulmate self-harming.
“Just going to the bathroom,” Adam choked out, instantly getting up on having made eye-contact with me.
“Adam,” I called out to him as he hurried out of the room, “Hold on.”
I ran to catch up with him, but only made it to the bathroom door as he locked it in front of me.
“Adam, please open up,” I begged, “I know I can’t really help, but I know what’s going on and I’d rather you had some company.”
Thankfully, it didn’t take much persuasion to have him open the door and when I saw his emotional state I realised why it had been so easy. He was full on crying, tears pouring down his face as he ran his wrist under the cold tap.
“I… I went to a soulmate therapist… a couple of days ago… and she says there’s no way I can stop the pain,” Adam choked out, “I… I need to be s-strong and deal with it… m-making it cold helps a l-little.”
I grabbed the hand towel from the rail, turned off the tap and gently rubbed Adam’s wrist dry, “Come with me; we’ve got an ice pack in the freezer.”
Adam cradled his arm to his chest as we walked to the kitchen, a stream of tears still flowing down his face. I quickly opened the freezer and found the ice pack. I prised his arm away from his chest and brought the ice pack slowly down onto his wrist. I took the towel and wrapped it around to keep the cold in.
“You can sit with that on it,” I told him, still holding the towel and the ice pack on for him.
“Dan, do you need me to do anything?” Phil asked, sticking his head into the kitchen.
“Uhh… I don’t think so?” I said hesitantly, not sure if there was anything he could do to help.
“How about a cup of tea for Adam?” he suggested, looking between us.
“D’you want that?” I prompted Adam.
“Yeah,” he nodded timidly, rubbing some tears off his face.
“D’you want to go back to the living room or to bed?” I asked him, wanting to know where I should take him.
“Bed,” he said wearily.
“Phil, bring the tea through to his room when you’ve made it,” I called out to Phil as I made my way there with Adam.
Holding the towel and ice pack for himself now, Adam pushed the duvet back, climbed up onto the bed and wrapped it around himself like a cape. I perched next to him on the bed, placing a hand on the duvet that covered his back, “Is it still hurting a lot?”
Nodding, Adam replied, “Yeah, and it’s hurting me to think about him doing that too.”
“I know the feeling,” said Phil as he walked into the room sporting a mug of tea, “This guy here used to worry me a hell of a lot by throwing up every meal he ate. It hurt a lot that I couldn't help, but there's not much you can do to make it easier.”
Phil handed Adam the tea, patting him on the shoulder, “You’re doing great.”
“But at least you didn't actually feel sick every time,” Adam retaliated, “I'm currently getting like all his pain and depressed thoughts and everything.”
“I did sometimes, like when it was particularly bad I would worry so much that I felt sick myself,” Phil explained, “I kinda get where you’re coming from. Did you go and see a soulmate therapist in the end?”
“I’ve been once and she wasn’t that helpful,” Adam explained, “She said that there wasn’t really anything I could do to stop the pain. Painkillers won’t help at all ‘cause the pain’s on his side and not mine. The ice kinda helps because it’s so cold it numbs it. She told me that there’s not an awful lot she can help me with, that it's really my soulmate that needs the help. She said that she might try prescribing me antidepressants but they might not make a difference, depending on how many of the depressed thoughts are mine and how many are his - she really needs to treat both of us together, or have him see someone that she can make contact with.”
“When will you be going back?” I asked, “Like to hear if she’s going to prescribe you them.”
“We’re giving it ten days, so just after I get back home,” Adam told us, “I need to keep note of my thoughts and feelings and why I’m feeling them. That’s going to help her see where all my feelings come from. I’m scared though; I’ve never been on a prescription medication of any kind and I’ve heard that antidepressants can make you have suicidal tendencies. There’s no hope for me and him if we both head down that path…”
Adam started to cry a bit harder with what he was saying. I brought my arm around him and Phil sat down at his other side to hold onto his cup of tea before he spilt it all over himself.
“It’s antidepressants that I take for my anxiety,” I told Adam, “I haven’t had much problem with them. I know it varies from one case to another, but genetically, we’re pretty similar.”
“Were you scared to take them?” he asked, shaking a little.
“Not really,” I told him, “I was pretty desperate for something to help with the panic attacks and constant anxiety I was experiencing and I’d been putting my body through all kinds of abuse anyway, so adding another pill into the mix wasn’t going to be much different.”
“Anyway, taking them doesn’t bother me,” I added, “I wouldn’t be worried about it. I’m sure mum’ll keep a close eye on you if you’re worried about anything. Just let her know how you feel, yeah. I can’t help as much as I’d like to from up here.”
“Are they just like normal pills?” he asked, “They’re not like giant or anything?”
“I’d say they’re pretty normal,” I told him, “I’ll let you see tomorrow morning when I take them.”
“Thanks,” Adam mumbled, falling into a silence and sipping on the tea.
I stayed with him as he finished the tea, although the conversation had pretty much run out. Adam was still crying, so Phil left at one point to get him tissues, but overall, we had the situation under control.
When the mug was empty, I laid it to the side, to take away with me when I left. His hands now free, Adam pulled the duvet a little closer around him.
“I think I’m just gonna take my jeans off and get some sleep now,” Adam mumbled.
“Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” I said, “D’you need any extra blankets or are you good?”
“I think I’m good,” he replied.
“Kay, goodnight then,” I said, “Come and find Phil or me if you need anything; also don’t hesitate to wake me up if anything happens in the night; if you need someone to talk to, I’ll only be next door.”
Taking the mug with me, I left the room, shutting the door behind me to let Adam get ready for bed. Phil was waiting outside for me, and joined me as I walked to the kitchen.
“Shall we just head to bed too?” Phil asked, as I put the mug in the dishwasher.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “I’m pretty tired…”
I made sure that the TV and all the lights were turned off, and Phil went to check the door was locked. We’d developed our own little routine in terms of the small insignificant jobs we had to do before we settled down for the night. On my way to mine and Phil’s bedroom, I quietly poked my head into the guest room to see if Adam was asleep. Eyes shut, snoring gently, curled up tightly and clutching onto the duvet, he was definitely sleeping. I felt a little relief, knowing that he was getting some rest; I’d been concerned that with everything going in his head, he wouldn’t get to sleep that easily, but then, he had had a long day.
I met Phil in our bedroom, where I didn’t hesitate in removing my clothes until I was just in my underwear. Phil did the same, but he kept going until he was completely naked and headed for the bathroom.
“You not coming for a shower?” he asked, as he realised that I was still sitting on our bed.
“I’m tired and I’m feeling a bit stressed and I really just want to sleep,” I explained, “You go ahead, I’ll probably shower in the morning.”
“I’ll let you go to the bathroom and brush your teeth first then,” Phil said, momentarily pausing to put his underwear back on.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, getting up and walking past him into the bathroom.
Phil kept me company as I cleaned my teeth. Something was bugging me about him being there; I think I just needed a little time to myself, but I’d feel bad to push him away. It felt like there was an elastic band in my back which had gradually been pulled tighter, and something told me that it wouldn’t be long before it snapped.
“Dan, are you okay?” Phil asked me as I got into bed, “You’re really quiet, d’you want to talk about why you’re stressed?”
I shook my head, hoping he would get the message and just bugger off for his shower. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the bed next to me and looked down with what I felt was an aura of concern.
“Phil, I’m fine,” I groaned, “Just go for your shower.”
“Dan, you’re not fine,” he said softly, bringing his hands to rest on my back and starting to rub it, “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“NO,” I snapped harshly, feeling that the elastic band had finally snapped, the pot of stress that had been brewing inside of me, boiled over. I pushed Phil off, “Just leave me alone, okay.”
Feeling the tears welling in my eyes, I ignored Phil and curled up in a ball, crying into the mattress. He seemed to stay for a minute or two, but eventually I felt the bed move a little as he stood up and I heard him walking into the bathroom. Finally.
What I wasn’t expecting, but maybe I should have, was for Phil to come back. The footsteps returned and the mattress sank again as Phil sat down, “Dan, I’ve brought your medicine if you want to take it.”
“I’m not having a fucking panic attack,” I growled, my voice coming out slightly angry but mainly just sad.
“They might help,” Phil said, not appearing fazed by my outburst, “If you change your mind, I’ll keep it here.”
Phil went quiet for a bit, finally giving me some of the peace I needed.
Phil’s POV:
I quietly considered what else I could do to help Dan. He was completely freaking out any time I tried to get too near him. It wasn’t a normal panic attack, but he was showing some of the same symptoms. He was crying, he was trembling a little and I didn’t know what was going on in his head.
I knew he wanted space, but I didn’t really want to leave him alone like this. I did what seemed like the best option in this situation and decided to sit it out. It might take a while, but I knew he come around eventually. I sat close to him, but not too close and made sure that my body language was open and welcoming for him.
It hurt me to sit by his side and do nothing as he sniffled and cried, but it was rewarding, when, after about ten minutes, he shuffled the small distance between us and finally allowed me to hug him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled as he nuzzled his face into my stomach.
“It's okay,” I told him, wrapping my arms securely around him and holding him there, “It's over now, you're okay.”
Dan's tears and snot started to make my stomach a little sticky, but I was still planning a shower so it didn't matter in the slightest. Dan had said he'd shower in the morning, but he now seemed cold and sweaty so I thought I'd double check that.
“You sure you don’t want to shower?” I asked him, “No offence but you're a bit sweaty.”
“Yeah, I know,” he nodded, “Sorry, but I don't have the energy so you're gonna have to deal with me being a bit sticky for tonight.”
“I'm still going to have a shower, but I'll stay 'til you're asleep,” I told Dan, “D'you want some water to some tea or anything?”
“I’m good,” Dan replied, “Sleep’s all I want right now.”
Dan had to leave my embrace while I sorted out the duvet. I brought it around his curled up form and tucked the edge in underneath him. I left my side loose, ready for me to join him after I'd had my shower.
I sat cross-legged on top of the duvet, while Dan lay underneath it beside me. His tears having dried up, he now looked exhausted, his eyes reddened and half shut already.
I brought a hand to rest on top of his duvet-shrouded form, not wanting to get so caught up that I'd be unable to leave for my shower when the time came.
“Can you just talk at me for a bit?” Dan asked, “That'll help me get to sleep.”
“Sure thing,” I responded, picking out the first thing I could think of and going on what became a slightly nonsensical ramble on the topic.
I stopped blabbing on about houseplants just after I noticed that Dan was asleep. I'd kept going a little for a little while and then slowly got quieter, in case the abrupt arrival of a silence could awaken him.
I felt a pang in my heart at leaving him alone, but I was determined to have a shower. I quickly shed my boxers and hopped under the flow of water before it had even warmed up.
I kept my shower quick, as once I was in it, the tiredness hit me and I was now longing for bed. I brushed my teeth and eventually found some pyjamas in the darkness of our room. The first pair I had attempted to get on turned out to be Dan's as they were a bit too small. I knew I could've given up my search and slept naked but I felt a bit exposed that way. We had a guest in the house and then there's always that risk that the fire alarm goes off. I might've seemed a bit paranoid, but there was no harm in being careful.
Next Chapter =>
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Space I Filled - Chapter 1: You Can’t Smoke Out Smoke
Tim had been gone for five years. Five years of never seeing his family and friends, five years of isolating himself from everyone he cared about, five years of dodging Bruce's, Kon's, Cass's, and Ra's attempts at finding him. Dodging everyone's attempts, really. It was exhausting.
Hopping from city to city, town to town, trying to find the most secluded, out of the way place before realizing it was hard to blend in in places like that. Holing up in crowded cities and getting low-end jobs so as to not draw attention. Reading the papers religiously to make sure that he knew where Bruce Wayne was at all times and staying the hell away from those places. That one day when he was on his way to work and he froze in his tracks when he saw Kon flying above the city, scanning the crowds, and he had to go leave right then without even packing any of his belongings.
Not forming any attachments with anybody in the hopes that nobody would file a missing person's report. Thinking up name after name after name and having to remember them and respond to them like they were actually his. Wondering if he was even Timothy Drake anymore, or if that was always a lie.
Realizing that he felt empty and hollow, and that he couldn't handle living unless he was a vigilante. Forming a new alter ego, knowing that everything was okay because Batman had a Robin and that Robin didn't have to be him, and feeling alive for the first time in a year when he finally soared above the skyscrapers of his current city and saved the lives of its citizens. Knowing the difficulties of being a superhero without a Bruce Wayne budget. Getting shot in the chest and almost dying because he hadn't gotten his hands on some actual Kevlar yet, and having to pull the bullet out and sew it up himself without passing out because there was no Alfred in Lima, Peru.
After about three years, the searches for him dwindled down a bit, which Tim was grateful for, if not a little childishly disappointed in. Perhaps his family and friends had finally gotten the hint that he didn't want to be found. Or maybe they thought he was dead. Either way, it gave him more room to breathe, and he stayed in Lima for a while. Maybe too long.
Seeing one of Ra's ninja's searching the city and realizing that his new vigilante gig was getting a little public, and therefore having to fake his death and move to another city to start up again, because if Ra's found him then this all would have been for nothing.
It was Ra's he was running away from in the first place, trying to stay hidden long enough that Ra's leaves him alone. Gives up. Thinks he's dead. Until he actually is dead, perhaps, he didn't know. As long as Ra's couldn't get to him, then it was fine. The man was powerful, and he wanted something from Tim (Andrew, Juan, Brian, Andre, Akachi, Muhammad, Tina, Harry, Muhammad, Hunter, Mason, Muhammad, Han, Peter, etc., etc.), and Tim needed to get him off his back somehow. And if his family and friends knew where he was, then the Demon's Head would inevitably find out. So he made himself invisible, unfindable. And remained that way until he was sure it was safe to stop, or if it was never safe to stop, then he would never come out of hiding.
It hurt to think that, but it was simply the truth. He had committed himself to this, and he had to see it through. He was a danger to those around him, and he had to fix it. So he did.
*
Dick hadn't wanted to give up. Bruce hadn't wanted to give up. Alfred, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Jason, and even Damian hadn't wanted to give up. Kon had ranted to them about how he couldn't believe they were thinking of giving up. Bart had remained quietly disappointed. The Titans, who had long moved on and let another generation take over the tower, all fumed at them for even mentioning the idea of giving up.
But Tim had disappeared three years ago. Nobody knew what had happened to him. They found his tracker, carved out of his skin, in an abandoned warehouse in Gotham. No other trace of him was left there. He had left Red Bird, he had left his suit, he had left all his gear. He hadn't taken any belongings with him. It was like he had just secretly hopped a plane with just the clothes on his back. Whenever Bruce or Oracle got a lead on him it was a dead-end.
"Who, Juan? Hasn't shown up at work for weeks, Señor. Had to hire someone else. He in some kind of trouble?"
"Muhammad didn't talk much. Never went to the company get-togethers. I think he left town about a month ago, because he quit and then I didn't see him at all after that. Sorry."
Apartments, practically gutted they were so clean, where he had supposedly stayed. Not even a trace of DNA left.
The closest anyone had gotten was when Superboy had searched for him in New Zealand. Kon could have sworn he saw him, smelled him, heard him, something. And after they made sure that he wasn't in the city or any of the surrounding cities, and that they couldn't find any of his names on a public transport list or on store or gas station records, or that they couldn't spot him in any security footage, they found his apartment.
When Dick had seen it, it was enough to make him cry. He had flown in for the search, and the apartment was the last chance they had. It didn't give them a single clue as to where he might have gone, but it was more than enough to tell him he had been there. Thai takeout was in the fridge, next to cans upon cans of energy drinks. A coffee maker sat on the counter, still full of about six cups of coffee. An unmade bed, a messy desk with a laptop, a closet full of jeans and sweaters and comfy shoes. Sweatpants, shorts, and a Superboy t-shirt. A fucking Superboy t-shirt. Piles of newspapers with the locations of Bruce Wayne for the past six months and where he was going to be circled in red. A Star Trek poster on the wall above the bed. A simple sweep had Tim's DNA and fingerprints coating the place. Dick had sat down on the floor, grabbed a shoe that was lying by the bed, and just stayed there for hours, soaking in the echoes of Tim's presence. Superboy had come in a bit later, frustrated from looking for his friend, and sat next to him in silence.
That was over two years ago. They hadn't gotten nearly that close since. Hell, they weren't even getting any leads. Maybe... maybe it was time to move on. Maybe it was time to accept that Tim was gone from their lives.
Jason stopped asking for updates. Alfred looked like he wanted to say something, but eventually he didn't mention Tim's name anymore. Damian was immersed in his career as Robin and in his schoolwork. Barbara hadn't gotten the "Possible Red Robin Lead" alert in months. Bruce was losing hope. Kon was losing faith. Mentioning him was like mentioning someone who died. There was talk of putting up a statue in the Hall of Justice, but nobody would hear of it.
The search was cold. His presence was no more than a memory. Everyone sort of just... gave up.
*
Tim had gone to Brazil because he remembered his parents speaking highly of it. The people, the sights, the culture! Enrapturing, they had called it. Tim looked at it and thought, ...Well, there's certainly a lot of crime. He found a place in Fortaleza, which was not only one of the largest cities, but had a high crime index. He bought an apartment to hole up in and started a job as a bartender before putting together a new suit and superhero name, something discreet. He took the time to get some Kevlar, half-decent weaponry, and fell into a routine of eat, sleep, work, kick ass, repeat. He thought he was doing an okay job this time around.
Then one day he came across a kid. She was wandering around on rooftops taking pictures with her phone. Taking pictures of him, as luck would have it.
He noticed her while he was fighting off some muggers one night. She was sitting on a rooftop, and the slight snap of a shutter caught his already somewhat occupied attention. He glanced up and saw a small head peaking over the small rise at the edge of the roof, along with the top of a phone, which just kept snapping pictures.
That would not do, not at all. Not when he was trying to maintain a low profile. Had he really gotten noticeable enough that a kid was stalking him? Would he have to move again?
After the muggers were taken care of (a few broken ribs, lost teeth, and a concussion. Overkill, perhaps, but he was tired), he vanished into the shadows of the night and watched as the girl looked around in confusion, trying to find him.
She gave up after a bit and tucked her phone into her pocket, leaping onto a nearby roof and making her way south. Seemingly following the route he usually takes through the city. Well damn. She'd been following him for a while, then. He tailed her as she made her way through the city, thinking to himself that if she became a problem, he would have to move again. And he really didn't want to do that.
AO3
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
babila123
Untitled
intersectionalculture
Mulani Jackson
genius-with-a-j
Fandoms and Fairytales
leone-mary-foster
Leone
sawedofffeet
Everything Saw