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sonicrainicorn · 6 years

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Anything For You

For previous one-shot click here (go down the rabbit hole while you’re at it)

Words: 2550 Desc.: Logan is really bad at feelings. He can talk the ear off of anybody, but once emotions are thrown into the mix he forgets complete sentences. Maybe that’s why he connects to the twins first. TW: None

It’s nothing but fluff in here

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Four years old.

That’s how old Virgil and Roman were when they came into the lives of Logan and Patton. They were tiny and scared and too young to know what was happening but old enough to realize it was important. They didn’t talk for a good portion of their first day home. It wasn’t until a few days after that they became more comfortable and, surprisingly, they opened up to Logan first.

Virgil saw him reading an old, worn out copy of The Phantom Tollbooth and became interested. Logan didn’t know what sparked the curiosity. The cover was rather simple and the words couldn’t have been recognizable. All it held was sentiment at this point.

Nevertheless, Virgil was intrigued and that meant Roman was too. In the early days, the two were so close that Thomas referred to them as the twins from The Shining (Logan thought it was amusing but Patton disagreed). They tended to do everything together -- plus they weren’t into that whole speaking thing for a while which lead them to stare. And that meant they stared at Logan while he was reading.

He lowered his book enough to see two mirror images standing there. It was a little unnerving. “Is there something you two need?”

Virgil pointed at the book while Roman asked, “What’re you reading?”

Logan wondered for a moment if twin telepathy was a real thing. “Uh, The Phantom Tollbooth.”

Virgil and Roman glanced at each other, prompting Roman to ask another question. “Haven’t you read that a long time?”

Maybe they were the twins from The Shining after all. “If you’re wondering if I’ve read this a lot recently, then yes I have.” He had been reading it since the day Roman and Virgil came home. It wasn’t a long book or anything -- in fact, he had re-read it about four times in the past few days. It was a book he always read to calm himself down or make himself feel better. His mother used to read it as a bedtime story.

“Why?”

Logan hesitated. “It’s a good book.” It was. Even after every turn and plot development had been revealed, it was still a great book.

“Can you read it?” Virgil spoke this time. His voice contrasted Roman’s in that it wasn’t confident or loud.

“You want me to read it to you?” Logan didn’t hide the surprise in his voice.

The twins nodded in unison.

“Um…” It wasn’t as if Logan could say no. Well, he could, but it wouldn’t have been nice. He had never shared this book with anyone other than Thomas. Reading it aloud would be the equivalent to telling a deep, dark secret. This was the book that grounded him and helped him through the most difficult times in his life -- Patton barely understood what he kept it around for. He could suggest another book -- one that made him feel less vulnerable -- or he could grant their first request.

“Would you like to join me on the couch, then?”

Logan flipped to the beginning as the twins climbed onto the couch; they sat next to each other, of course. Logan hesitated once more before beginning the story.

The next day, they wanted Logan to read to them again. And again and again, until Logan was reading to them every day.

All the reading lead to the twins talking more. They would ask Logan questions or make comments on the character’s actions. Once, Logan had a mini-debate with Virgil over something in Inkheart. They started acting like normal kids rather than twins one might see at the end of a hallway.

But Logan refused to think it was because of him.

“Come on, Logan,” Patton almost begged. “I tried talking to them for days and all I got were quiet mumbles from Roman. All you did was read to them and they suddenly know complete sentences.” He grabbed Thomas’s arm when he walked into the room. “Please convince him -- he’s killing me.”

The little family was at Thomas’s house for the day. All three grownups had the day off and decided to spend it together. Besides, Thomas wanted to see how his nephews were doing. The first time he met them they were too shy (or afraid) to really come out of their room.

“Well there is an improvement,” Thomas mentioned as he sat down to join the couple. “They’re both messing around with the piano in the back instead of staring blankly at a wall.” He smiled. “They also told me they want to see all the Disney movies I have.”

Logan quirked a brow. “They specifically asked for Disney?”

“Technically, they pointed at the bookcase and said they wanted to watch those, but that’s where all the Disney ones are kept.”

“See, Logan?” Patton interjected. “They even talk to Thomas now -- and they’re showing interest in stuff. You helped make them feel comfortable.”

“Nonsense.” Logan took a sip of coffee. “It was only natural that they open up to us after a few days together.”

Patton groaned and put his head on the table. “He’s been like this all day.”

“Is there a reason?” Thomas asked. He looked a bit amused at this being an issue at all.

“He hates being sentimental.”

“Wow,” Logan deadpanned.

Patton raised his head. “Logan, I love you very much, but you really do hate showing that you can be soft.”

Thomas snorted and Logan crossed his arms. “I just don’t see how my reading has anything to do with it,” Logan quipped. “It has nothing to do with me being soft.”

“You read them The Phantom Tollbooth!” Patton waved his arms for emphasis. “You never even let me read that.”

Logan’s face began to heat up. “Th-they asked --”

“I’ve asked.”

“Well, that just kind of…” Logan took another sip of his coffee as he trailed off. It may or may not have been longer on purpose.

Patton pouted.

“You guys are adorable,” Thomas mused. He looked at them in a similar manner to how someone might look at kittens. “But I really think we should have a movie marathon instead of sitting around talking.”

~~~

It took several weeks for Virgil and Roman to accept that they were apart of a new family. After four years of only knowing life with a single mother, it must have been rather hard for them to transition. For the first couple days, it didn’t seem as if they understood that Logan and Patton were their new parents -- regardless of them being told before.

The first time one of them called Patton “Dad”, he almost cried. While Logan agreed that it was good that the twins were seeing themselves as part of the family, he thought crying in front of them might have been a little silly (though when he was called “Daddy” for the first time he choked on his own spit)

Their house was no longer filled with awkward mumbles or overly encouraging words, but with laughter and conversations. They were all trying their best with what they had been given and it was working out in their favor.

About a month later, Patton had an idea.

“Logan,” he poked his head around the corner into the living room. “I think I found something the kids might like.”

Logan looked up from his laptop with a raised brow and an unamused expression. “As much as that might be interesting, I’m in the middle of something. Can’t you show them yourself? They’re right here.” He went back to typing.

“Yeah, well, I think you’re gonna want to see this.”

The tone in Patton’s voice made Logan suspicious. He paused his progress to see what Patton might be planning, and his eyes widened when it was brought out.

“Is that a guitar?” Roman squealed. His pronunciation was a little funny but the word got out okay.

Logan snapped his laptop shut. He kept that thing hidden for a reason. “How did you even find that?” He held his voice level to avoid upsetting the twins.

“It’s not like it was hidden very well.” Patton winked.

“I assumed you wouldn’t go looking for it.”

“Well, you know what they say about assuming.” Patton grinned and held up the instrument as if to display it. “What do you think?”

Logan stared at it for a moment. He hadn’t touched that thing in years. Dust clung onto it like memories that would never really go away. “No.”

“What?” There were three different interpretations of the word.

“I said no.” Logan stood up with his laptop tucked under his arm. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to finish.” He didn’t wait to hear any objections. He walked away and into his office where he remained for the rest of the day.

By nightfall, Logan decided to come out. He felt a little upset with himself at how he handled the situation. In hindsight, it was kind of overdramatic. There was no reason for him to deny it the way that he did. It would have been much better to explain his reasoning rather than retreating to avoid confrontation. With a sigh, he opened the door to leave.

In front of him was the guitar. A sticky note attached to it reading “sorry for bothering you :(“ in Patton's curvy writing.

Logan frowned at it. He crumpled up the note and tossed it in the trash. He didn't want to think about that -- he wanted to sleep -- but the guitar was still there. It would always be there. Logan couldn't get rid of that. No matter how much he wanted to...

He contemplated for a second or two before grabbing it.

There was a night light on in the living room. Patton put it there so it would never be completely dark. In a situation like this, Logan was glad for it. When he sat down on the couch there was enough light to see the strings on the guitar.

Logan strummed it once and cringed at how out of tune it sounded. No matter how many years that passed, he would always remember how to tune a guitar, he was sure of it. It may have taken a little bit, but he did get it tuned. When he strummed it, it sounded a lot better. Not perfect but better.

He didn't play anything. Not yet, anyway. He ran his hand along the front body of the guitar, leaving a streak of where dust used to be. He couldn't place the exact moment he began to despise this instrument, but he could remember when he first began learning it. Many, many years ago…

Logan’s hands instinctively moved to the correct position on the guitar. His fingers were frozen on the chord to the start of the song. If he strummed right now then that would be it. He would acknowledge that this was his -- had always been his. He'd be forced to come to terms with the past he wished he could let die. In the end, he decided, it was best to let the past aid in paving the future.

It was a little rocky at first. After years of never touching an instrument, he might have been a bit rusty. But he figured it out. The months of learning and memorizing the song all that time ago came back to him. He didn't even have to think about where to move his fingers next -- it was all muscle memory.

He started singing under his breath to make the song feel more complete, despite the fact that his fingers were forming the melody already.

It wasn't until he heard someone join him at the third verse that he froze up.

“Patton?” Logan turned to the doorway. There stood a sheepish Patton and two mesmerized twins. He felt his face heat up. “I wasn’t that loud, was I?”

“No,” Patton answered. “But we heard you.” He flipped the light switch for the living room. “I kinda wanted to see how far you would go.”

The twins walked over to Logan while Patton stayed at the doorway. Roman studied the guitar with interest, but Virgil looked straight at Logan.

“Can you play again?” He asked. Roman snapped out of his daze to nod in agreement.

“Uh…” It wasn’t as if he could say no. Well, he could have, but still. He hadn’t played in this long for a reason. Was he willing to forget all that to give his family what they wanted? “M-maybe another song.”

Patton gasped and ran into the living room. He leaped onto the chair beside the couch and leaned over the armrest so that he would be face-to-face with Logan. “Can you do Hey There Delilah?”

Logan sighed. “Patton --”

“Please?” Patton brought out his best-begging face. “Please, please, please? It’s such a cute song and I love it when you do it.”

Logan turned away in an attempt to hide his burning face. He had played for Patton a few times before deciding to give it up (for what he thought would be for good). He hated singing -- still hates it -- but “Hey There Delilah” was one of the rare songs he ever let Patton hear him sing.

It was stupidly simple to play, yet a lot harder to sing. Logan always tried to sing as quietly as he could because he despised how he sounded. The swells in the vocals made it a little hard for that, forcing him to have to sing louder than normal. He hated it, though Patton loved it. Patton loved everything about Logan, it seemed.

“Fine,” Logan mumbled. “Just don’t look at me like… that.” He motioned his hand in Patton’s direction but refused to make eye contact.

“Like what? Like you’re my everything?”

“Yes.”

Patton leaned forward more. He placed his hand under Logan’s chin to lift and move it towards his direction. Their noses were touching. “But I don’t know how else to look at you.”

Logan forgot how to breathe for a moment. He didn’t pay much attention to how the heat spread to his ears. All he could focus on, at that moment, was Patton. They were so close. No matter how many years they had been together, being this close to Patton always caused butterflies to flutter in Logan’s stomach.

“Ew,” a little voice murmured.

The two turned away from each other to see Virgil sticking his tongue out in disgust and Roman covering his eyes.

Patton chucked and returned to his original position. “Sorry, kiddos.” He winked at Logan. “You wanna show us what you can do?”

So Logan did.

From that point on, anything the twins requested is what Logan did. It wasn’t that he couldn’t say no (he was very capable of that) he figured it would be best to open up. They were doing that for him so he guessed he should do the same.

#honestly this went a different direction than i wanted #but i feel like i got to the same point i wanted to #anyway #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #thomas sanders #logicality #platonic lamp #familial lamp #logan really loves his kids you guys #human au #berry done au #sanders sides

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its-warm-in-here · 6 years

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To Err is Human ch5 (Connor RK800 x Reader)

Sorry! I meant to get this posted yesterday but that didn’t happen. I’m so happy to see that people are enjoying this so far!!

Summary: You are one of the head designers of the RK800 and when you here it’s going to be decommissioned, you make a move to keep at least on of the models in tact. Word Count ~1,600

You had nothing to do with the designing of the physical appearance of androids. You were more focused on the mechanics and coding of them. You knew how to take one apart and put it back together from the ground up, but you didn't have any hand in what kind of skin or facial structure was applied to the models.

So when Connor stepped out on the blue button down and jeans you couldn't help blushing a bit as he finished buttoning his shirt up. Whoever was in charge of his physical design deserved to be fired, rehired and given a promotion. You cursed yourself for thinking of what was equivalent to a toaster to be attractive. A damn Ken doll.

“Do you like them?” you asked.

Connor thought for a moment, staring at itself in the hall mirror, “They are a nice change from the CyberLife uniform.”

“I was worried they wouldn't fit, but you clean up pretty good when you’re not covered in blood,” you joked and motioned for it to sit next to you.

You crossed your legs on the cushion and stared at it through your fingers, “What am I going to do with you?”

“I would suggest that I stay in doors for the time being, but once we know we have evaded CyberLife, I will be able to resume my mission hunting deviants,” Connor replied a bit to enthusiastically.

You smiled, “You know what a rhetorical question is, right?”

Connor stared straight ahead, his LED turning yellow, “I know.”

The two of you sat in somewhat uncomfortable silence for a bit, you flipping channels and Connor flicking its coin back and forth. You felt your nerves rising and Connor not feeling or not caring about the tension that was building from the silence. With a breath, you asked, “Do you still have the Zen Garden interface installed?”

“Yes, but Amanda and I have not spoken since the android uprising,” it caught the coin vertically between its index and middle finger. “I don’t think she would be pleased about my current situation. It was her after all that informed me about my decommissioning.”

You felt a small shiver run down your spine. Amanda was the most advanced AI that Kamski had designed and it had yet to be topped by anyone from CyberLife and it idea that she was constantly watching you through Connor made the whole having an android in your home thing way more uncomfortable. She had been included in all of the RK series after the 400 and had been the mediator to make sure they stayed on task. So far she had never failed in her task. That was until Connor. She must be positively fuming in that virtual haven.

“Do you think we should keep her installed? I mean, if you ever did get back in the hands of CyberLife, she would ensure your destruction,” you worried at the corner of the couch cushion. And she would probably make sure I was wiped off the face of the map for kidnapping her golden boy.

“I would not be able to delete it without administrator approval from two different sources, but I doubt that there would be many at CyberLife willing to help you.” That was true, but that didn't mean it would be a bad idea to get that bitch out of its head, even if it meant paying someone off.

The awkward silence returned, this time without the television accompaniment. The only noise was the gentle ting ting of Connor's coin between its fingers. You found yourself watching, captivated by the delicate hand movements and the impossibility of the tricks that it preformed.

“You know, you don’t have to stay here because of me,” Connor’s voice broke the silence this time, forcing you to rip your eyes from its hands to its face. “I am able to entertain myself if need be.”

It was true that you had originally planned to run some errands and maybe go out tonight, but then you let this into your home. Not that you didn't think Connor couldn't take care of itself, but the idea of leaving a stranger, human or robot, alone in your house for more than an hour or so was unnerving. If something happened, you would probably be twenty minutes away. Having taken some sort of responsibility for the android didn't help you feel any better about leaving. So insead, you lied, “No, no I was planning on staying in today anyway.” Lying to the detective android, not your best play, but Connor dropped the issue all the same.

The rest of the day passed without a hitch. It mostly consisted of you doing your best to relax, switching from remedial task to remedial task, and trying to ignore the android snooping around your apartment. You almost told it to knock it off, but figured it was better to let it act out its base programming. Who knew when it would get another chance to do so.

When you finally put your book down and made some dinner of leftover mac and cheese, you found Connor sitting across from you at the dining table. He didn't say anything, just stopped looking about and sat down, hands flat in front of him.

You slowly chewed the mouthful of pasta and swallowed even slower, “Am I going to be interrogated?”

“No,” he removed his hands from the table, “I thought you might like some company for your meal.”

You snorted in response, “Most of the time the other person is also eating.”

“Traditionally, but it’s a good thing I’m not a person,” Connor responded, a bit to much snark lacing his voice, “I noticed that you like reading. What books do you like?”

You squinted at him as spoon full of macaroni dropped back into the bowl, “I read a lot of older fantasy stuff. Gaiman, Pratchett and Tolkien.”

Connor’s LED spun for a moment as he did a quick search, “Have you read anything by Marie Phillips? I see that she has a similar style to those authors.”

“No, but I’ll add her to the list,” you smirked as the social program went to work with trying to sort out what you were like. “You should read some of their books, not just look them up.”

“Maybe I will do that; it seems that I will have too much free time in the coming days,” he smiled. But it wasn’t a real smile, more like a programmed response to put someone at ease, stretching his face a bit to far. “Do you have any pets? I didn't see any animal hair around the apartment.”

Your brain did a one eighty as the conversation suddenly jumped topics, forcing you to struggle to find your words, “I did. I had a dog, but this place doesn't allow pets, so my mom has her.”

Connors face instantly lit up, “What’s your dog's name?”

“Cricket. Um, here,” you began flipping through your phone until you found a picture of an overly excited looking corgi with a green bandana tied around her neck and bright pink tongue lolling out. “This is her.” Connor didn't full on smile, but the slight upturn of his lips made your heart warm.

“She looks energetic.”

You took the phone back and put your empty bowl in the sink, “That’s a word for her.”

Connor followed you into the kitchen, “Would you like some help cleaning up?”

“It’s just one bowl.”

“Yes but I am here to help,” it nudged you out of the way.

“Are you bored or something?” none the less, you let it take over.

“No,” it paused, brow furrowed as if you had asked it a deep philosophical question. It seemed lost as it returned to the home it had made on your couch.

“Connor are you okay?” Its LED blinked.

“O-of course. I'm fine.” It shook its head, trying to clear it.

“‘Fine’ and ‘okay’ are different things in my book.” Connor didn't respond, instead curling its fingers into the fabric of its pants. You let off a groan. “Look, I'm not CyberLife, I just work for them. Right now you’re stuck with me so if you want to talk--”

“Can I ask you a personal question?” it cut you off.

“Um sure, shoot,” you shrugged.

“Why would you help me?” you opened your mouth to reply, “And please don’t dodged the question.” There was a moment of silence as you tried to explain the reason to yourself. You gripped the back of the couch so hard your knuckles started turning white. You nearly jumped when he spoke again, “Are you alright? Your heart rate has increased and I am detecting a rise in adrenaline.” He had turned half around, resting his arm over the back of the couch. Connors hand had found respite on your wrist, fingers resting on your pulse.

You drew your hand back, “I-I’m okay.” Eyes glued to the floor, your chest tightened up, “The truth is... I don’t know why I helped you. I thought that I did it for myself but I don’t know anymore.”

Slowly, you met his brown eyes a look of concern plastered on his perfectly sculpted face. “I didn't mean to cause you any stress. Please forget I said anything.”

You spent the rest of night in your room after that.

#detroid become human #DBH #connor RK800 #connor #connor x reader #dbh connor #self insert #fem!reader #thx for reading

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veronicatheslayer · 7 years

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Make This Go On Forever || Bridget and Veronica

Bridget and Veronica work some things out.

Veronica wished that she and Bridget could have more time to spend alone and together. They were always apart, whether it be due to the freak snow, or to their various commitments or just simply because when Esme had lived with them she had been a pain and wouldn’t give them any space. Though she was moving out soon, which was a relief. Tonight however they had gotten lucky. It was valentine’s day and Beatrice had gone shopping, groceries were needed and rather than Bridget doing it Beatrice had volunteered so that they could have the apartment to themselves. Veronica arrived holding flowers along with a small package wrapped in plain brown paper, it was customary to buy your girlfriend a gift and Veronica wasn’t one for breaking with tradition. Raising her fist, she knocked gently on the door to her girlfriend’s apartment. The thought that Bridget and her were actually together sent shivers down her spine.

Bridget still hadn’t been on a real date with Veronica or even been able to spend proper time with her. She thought that Veronica getting her own apartment would mean that they would have a space all to themselves, but so far it had not. But Beatrice, continuing to be the most wonderful sister Bridget could have ever hoped to have in the universe, had offered to do the grocery shopping for the week – and had encouraged Bridget to spend time with Veronica. So she’d dressed in a nice but casual dress and made some tea while she waited for Veronica to arrive. When the knock came, she jump-skipped over to the door and opened it. “Hey.” She said, offering her a careful smile. “Glad this timing, um, worked for you. Come on in.”

The mere sight of Bridget was enough to put a smile on Veronica’s face. “Hey to you too,” she said her smile growing wider by the second, “I’m sorry about Esme, but she is moving out soon so we’ll have the place to ourselves sooner rather than later,” she said almost reflexively. She loved her brother and her sister dearly, but right now it felt like they would do anything to get in her way. Especially Esme. No matter what Bridget did, she never seemed to approve of her and that was something that bothered Veronica. She couldn’t help but see the very best parts of Bridget and she wished that Esme would do the same. “You look really beautiful,” she said, hugging her girlfriend before entering her home. “So, I got you some flowers, and something else you can open later,” she said, holding the bouquet out for her to take, “I just picked some that I thought you’d like, my way of saying sorry that things haven’t exactly been working out perfectly.”

“You shouldn’t have to apologize on her behalf.” Bridget half-hissed. “But in case you’d care to know, she can’t guarantee even a few hours for us to be alone on a certain overly-commercialized but kind of cute holiday that’s well … today” She sighed, taking the flowers from Veronica. “Thank you, I appreciate these.” She pressed a kiss onto Veronica’s cheek. “They’ll look nice on our dinner table.” She grabbed a vase from a cabinet and quickly filled it with water, cut off the ends of the flowers, and placed them inside before putting the whole thing onto the table next to her own package. They could do gifts later. “Right. Well,” she sighed again, “you’re here now, right? That’s good. You look gorgeous too, but you always do so…” she shyly bit her lip and made her way over to the couch, sitting down. “So, here we are again. Oh!” She got up quickly and grabbed a pillow covered with little stars off of a chair. “I got this recently! It’s very squishy and nice.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Veronica couldn’t help herself from sighing in reply to Bridget’s tale. It didn’t surprise her that Esme was being this petty, but she wished it would stop. “I will talk to her, try and work out why she is being a child about this because I know that I certainly haven’t got a clue why she won’t just get over it.” She sighed gently again and moved over to the couch, slipping next to Bridget, close enough that their bodies touched. She desperately wanted to just hold her, to kiss her and just to talk. To spend the next few days together. But sadly there was no way that that could ever work out. Not right now. Not when things were going so well between them and yet it felt like the rest of the world was falling apart. “You look very beautiful yourself,” she said with a bright smile, “I love your dress and that pillow is cute.” She smiled gently and enjoyed the moment. “I’m glad that we could do this, I … I have really missed you actually.”

“Because she told me I wasn’t worthy of dating you, essentially that I’d ruin your family name. Maybe not exactly those words, but that was all heavily implied.” Bridget glanced down at her legs. “If you talk to her, she’ll probably just message me after about how I shouldn’t tell you these things.” She pressed the palms of her hands against her skirt after throwing the pillow onto the couch. “Thank you. I’m glad too.” She picked up one hand and ran it through her hair, glancing around the living room. “Yeah – I’m sorry, I’ve been incredibly busy and without all too much free time at all. But I should make time for you – you need that, that’s what girlfriends do, right? Do you want tea? I have tea.”

Veronica sighed gently. “Well, who is or isn’t worthy of dating me isn’t a decision that Esme, or anyone other than me gets to decide. And in case either you or Esme hasn’t noticed, I don’t really care about my family name anymore. You’re the one that I want to be my girlfriend and that is simply something that Esme needs to get used to.” She couldn’t help but frown gently as she spoke, it bothered her that Esme couldn’t accept her decision. She wasn’t 15 years old anymore, she didn’t need guidance. She needed a supportive sister. “You’re most welcome,” she replied, smiling gently as she watched Bridget run her hands through her hair, her fingers gently combing through her curly auburn hair. “I don’t think that it would be fair to blame just you, I’ve been busy too and it is clearly something that we need to work on and I plan to work on it, we’ll just have to get used to making time for one another.” She smiled again and nodded. “Tea sounds perfect.”

Bridget gave Veronica a small nod. “Obviously. I do know but – I don’t know.” She jumped up at Veronica’s words. Tea she could do. Tea was good and solid and concrete and was something that was safe. Not uncertain. “Yes,” she called over from the kitchen as she grabbed two mugs and the pot of herbal peach tea, “we do have to get used to it and find a way to best organize for it.” Bridget carried the tea and mugs back to the couch and set them all on a placemat on the coffee table. “Here,” she said, pouring some tea into a purple mug and handing it to Veronica. She poured some tea into a flowered mug for herself and took a small sip. “What have you been up to lately?”

Pausing for a minute, Veronica watched Bridget as she busied herself making the tea. Sitting here, on this couch was beginning to feel remarkably normal to her. The more time that she spent as Bridget’s girlfriend, the more normal it felt to just sit in this room with her. They actually spent quite a lot of time here, together. It was nice. Veronica really liked it. She imagined that this was what most people felt like all the time, were they not slayers. But Veronica herself had to admit that since tha ball and the fire, nothing had quite felt so normal until this moment. She did her best to revel in it, but that thought alone was unnerving enough to worry her. But as Bridget returned she put it from her mind. “Thank you,” she said, taking the mug in her hand and setting it down on a coaster on the coffee table. Allowing it to cool slightly before drinking. “Not much,” she said entirely untruthfully, but it was a figure of speech as a pose to a deliberate lie, “I’ve been seeing Ricky for physical therapy and helping Marley with this and that, other than that it has been mostly regular slayer stuff.” She paused for a moment before speaking again. “How about you?”

“Lots of research.” She pulled her legs into a criss-cross position and looked over to Veronica. “For the marking on your arm,” she gave a small nod, “that smoke-creature that’s been about, helping to find someone’s birth parents, helping other research about various beings around Ashkent,” such as sirens she added to herself. Bridget blew on her tea before taking a small sip. “The usual.” Her eyes flicked from her mug to Veronica at the comment on ‘regular slayer stuff’. Reza. Another friendship that might be gone, someone who she cared about an incredible amount. Even if the idea of having a friend was still incredibly odd and foreign. “Right, hah,” she gave a small cough, covering it up with another sip of her tea. “Gotta keep up with your job, right?” She let the warmth of the tea warm the palms of her hands.

Veronica wasn’t surprised. Sometimes she wondered if Bridget did anything other than research. Of course she knew that wasn’t true. But still, it was impressive that someone could read that much without turning into a book themselves. “By the way, if it is of any help Adrien received similar markings on him too, though his happened a lot more recently than my own.” She paused and shrugged. “I don’t know what that means, or even if it means anything, but I thought that it was pertinent information to share with you.” Then Bridget got weird, and as Veronica sipped her tea, she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. This wasn’t the way that the person that she was in love with – even if she had yet to admit it to her – normally acted, in fact this was beyond bizarre for Bridget. “Is everything alright Bridget?” she asked quietly, concern emanating through her voice.

Bridget gave a small nod to Veronica. “Yup, I do know that – he told me, actually. I’ve also met someone else who got it, so it’s not a solo kind of thing. But I’m still wicked stumped by it, but Adrien told me that someone told him that there might be some sort of treaty in Ashford River, and that if you kill without following it or something you get the mark. I’m still working on research.” She paused. “Thank you, though.” At Veronica’s question she silently cursed herself. Shoot. Veronica could read her mannerisms, she shouldn’t have been so careless. “Yeah, it’s fine!” She giggled. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

After almost a year of knowing one another, Veronica had first come to consider Bridget to be one of her closest friends and then they had become something else but she had certainly known her well enough to know when something was wrong. There was something bothering Bridget, but Veronica wasn’t sure what. “Well,” she said quietly, frowning gently as she thought, “I’ve not been abstaining from dealing with vampires who hurt innocents, yet my brand hasn’t caused me anymore pain…” she trailed off and shrugged once more, sighing gently as she did, “it seems that it remains a mystery for the moment, though I have faith in you, I know that you’ll solve this puzzle sooner or later.” She smiled gently as she spoke. “If you’re sure that it is nothing more than that, then I won’t press you.” She wanted to respect Bridget’s boundaries, even though every fiber of her being was wailing at her to press her. To find out what was wrong.

“It’s not?” Bridget looked quizzically at Veronica. “That’s… odd. I mean, yay! It’s good and I don’t want you to hurt, but it’s weird as heck that it hasn’t caused you any more pain or strife.” She quirked her lips at Veronica’s comment. “Well thank you, your faith in my research skills is very much appreciated.” She quickly placed her mug on the table – not on a coaster at first and then she quickly moved it over to a coaster, before looking back over to Veronica. She didn’t want to say anything – because all she could see happening was that she’d lose something else important to her. “It’s Reza.” She whispered, before looking down at her lap. “I –” Be honest. “I don’t think he’s going to talk to me again and – that happened after he found out we were dating.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Veronica chuckled gently at Bridget’s reaction. “Well I guess that we just have to wait and see what happens…” she shrugged. It wasn’t as if she was an expert in any of this, right now she was just trying to get along. But if anyone could get to the bottom of this then she was sure that it was going to be Bridget. “You’re welcome, it isn’t as if my faith is misplaced. You’ve yet to let me down.” Sighing gently. Veronica paused as she heard Bridget’s complaint and her heart plunged. “Meirde” she whispered angrily, pulling a curly strand of hair back over her ear. “I didn’t even realise that the pair of you were friends and he was there when I killed Heath….” she ran her hands through her hair, “this is quite a mess isn’t it…?”

Bridget looked over to Veronica. “I guess we will. But things usually work themselves out, so I figure such will be the same case this time.” She gave a small, sharp nod. “Well thank you. I just try my very best, and hope that it all works itself out. I’ve had good luck with that so far.” Veronica’s next words were not quite what Bridget would have expected. “It’s more than a mess.” She said, suddenly. “I loathe Heath. Loathed. Can you loathe a dead individual in present tense?” She knit her eyebrows together. “Not the point. It’s more than a simple mess, Veronica.” She swallowed. “He’s suffering deeply – he’s –” he told me not to trust you. “In a lot of pain, and while Heath needed to – I don’t know, I never think killing is the option but while he needed to be removed from Reza’s life, it’s caused him an incredible amount of strife and anguish and any other number of synonymous words.” She ran both hands through her hair. “It’s more than a mess.” She repeated, her voice tense.

Veronica raised her eyebrows as the conversation turned to Reza. She didn’t regret what she had done, she would never regret what she had done. In fact she would say that she was glad that she had done what she had done. Bridget however didn’t seem to agree. “I understand that he is suffering deeply,” she said quietly, “I can see that he is in pain.” She sighed again, trying to think of the right words. “Did Reza tell you what happened?” she asked quietly, “because I don’t think I ever told you,” she paused. “I got a text from Izel asking for my help,” she sighed gently. “When I got to the graveyard Izel and Heath and Reza were all there … Reza had a gun and Heath was egging him on to kill Izel, I didn’t have a choice, I had to do something, so I pinned him, I tried to hold him down and decide what to do, I didn’t want to kill him there, but I couldn’t let him live.” She felt almost emotionless while she spoke but she didn’t stop, “But Heath slipped out from my grip and he got Reza, he was a second away from ripping his throat out with his teeth, I didn’t choose to kill him there, I had to do something to stop him from getting hurt. I didn’t want Reza to see it but I couldn’t help it.”

“Stop it!” Bridget pressed her palms against her eyes. “I know a lot about what Heath did, I was there for a good amount of it.” She took in a shaky breath. “My point is also – do you see how it’s affecting Reza now? Heath was one of the most vile individuals I’ve ever met in my whole life but Reza is still in pain. That’s all I’m trying to get at – or most of it.” Bridget looked over to Veronica. “Because I know you and I know this happened, Reza freaked out and now won’t talk to me. It hurts a lot, Veronica. It hurts me to see him hurting even though he might be dead if Heath was around, and it hurts me that I can’t even help him, now!”

Veronica nodded. “I understand that this hurts, I know that this hurt Reza and I know that this hurts you,” she didn’t particularly care that it hurt Reza, but the idea of anyone hurting Bridget set her on edge. “ She sighed and stood up, pacing to the other side of the room, trying to think of what to say next. "I know that this isn’t easy, and I more than understand that there isn’t a solution for this, but I’m not saying that you’re not struggling because I can see that I’ve lost you friends. I see that Deirdre and Reza didn’t want to stick by you. I see that it is because of me. But you’re not stupid. You know that you aren’t and they should trust the decisions that you make, then maybe they don’t deserve to be your friend.”

Bridget felt tension spread through her whole body. Tension and worry and a bit of disgust. Her gaze followed Veronica and she felt her fists clench at her words. “Didn’t want to stick by me?!” She snapped. “What kind of statement is that? I’ve never even really had friends and even I know friendships don’t really work like that. It’s working together.” She stood up, suddenly, her knees hitting to too-close coffee table. “I know I’m not stupid! I’ve been acutely aware of that basically my whole life. It happens when you learn how to stand up for yourself and your sister by the time you are four.” Bridget brushed a piece of hair from her face. “Who’s to say who is and is not deserving of being my friend? Friendship is mutual, and Deirdre and Reza are both utterly incredible individuals who are a blessing to know. Plus they’ve never once doubted my intelligence, but you’ve hurt one of them deeply and the other one has her own issues with Slayers which is well within her right, but you need to acknowledge that it’s not because –” She shook her head. “I don’t like this.” I can’t have a girlfriend and friends. “I think it –” Bridget glanced across the room at Veronica. “It makes them feel as though they can’t trust me. As though I, despite being a Scribe, could work against them. As though I betrayed them or something.” She willed herself not to cry. She didn’t like to cry often, and especially not during arguments. Which, it seemed, was what was happening now. Self-sabotage wholly unintentionally. “Just acknowledge that and – you know it hurts Reza – good! Doesn’t that matter, though?”

“Friendship isn’t about making it work together, friendship is about sticking by someone who you love and care about. I wouldn’t abandon you or Cece or Marley just because I found out something something that I didn’t agree with,” Veronica frowned, maybe she had been wrong, maybe Bridget didn’t get it. “Don’t lecture me on standing up for yourself Bridget, you weren’t locked in a room with a rabid vampire when you were eight years old, you weren’t given a stake and told that this was where you proved yourself part of the family.” She didn’t mean to retort, but she couldn’t help it. How was any of this her fault? It wasn’t her fault that Deirdre hadn’t come to accept her because she was a vampire slayer and it wasn’t her fault that Reza had been stupid enough to get involved with an Eretich. “Have either you or Reza stopped to consider what would have happened if I hadn’t hurt Reza, sure I know that he is in pain, I get it, he is hurting. But if I hadn’t stopped Heath, then Reza and many many more people would be in a lot more pain right now. As for Deirdre, well it has already been made clear to me that I’ve given up memories for her, but what else did I give up when I stopped her being afflicted from the little curse that she got put under when she forced me to do things that no one should have to do? Why am I suddenly the monster here?” She shook her head. The last year had not been kind to her and she wasn’t sure that she could take this. “You’re meant to be the person that I can trust, the person that I can turn to when things are hard, but how can I do that if I am constantly worried about what your friends are going to think of me. I can’t be a slayer and protect Ashkent Creek if I am constantly second guessing who it will offend next to do what I have to do!” She balled her fists up and turned away from Bridget for a moment. Trying to calm down and catch her breath and think this through. “I’ve never stopped you from being a Scribe, so what do you want me to do? Stop slaying? Because I won’t do it. I’m not giving it up. Not when I’m the only thing stopping vampires from killing you and your friends in the night.” Sighing gently she tried to breath. “I can’t save everyone Bridget, but I am trying to save as many as I can. That isn’t going to be perfect. I’m sorry but that is just the truth.”

“Don’t tell me about friends.” She said, looking down at her feet. “I can’t – I – friends have never worked for me, Veronica. Not until I got here so excuse me if my bar might be lower out of necessity. Plus it has to do with their safety – though I’m not like you. I don’t have easy friendships and folks clamoring to hang out with me. I have Beatrice and I’ve had her my whole life and she’s my best friend in the entire world, but that’s it. That’s the only friendship I can count on and –” Bridget gave a small, sharp cough at Veronica’s statement. “In come circles, that could be considered child abuse. That’s straight out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, isn’t it?” She raised an eyebrow. “But the point is that he’s hurting now and I need to see you feel bad for that! You felt bad when that Mr. Fairbanks had lost his friend and you didn’t even know him” Bridget shook her head. “She cursed you and then you cursed her and – I never ever said you were a monster, Veronica. Don’t you dare put that on me.” Her nails dug into the palms of her hands. “You can trust me!” She snapped, though her voice wavered. “You can always trust me,” a few tears ran down her cheeks, “please. I don’t want you to stop slaying. How can you think I’d ask you to do that? I know it’s what you do, it’s what you have to do.” She couldn’t lose Veronica. “You d-do save so many.” Darn it, she needed her voice to be steadier. This wasn’t going to be any good. “I don’t need perfect. I would have thought I made that perfectly clear. I would have thought you knew that about me.” She glanced over to Veronica, carefully.

Veronica turned back to Bridget, fixing her in her gaze. “You think having friends is easy for me?” she asked with a shake of her head. “My entire life all I ever had was Esme, my parents are dead, Adrien left for fifteen years and I didn’t even have school. I was tutored and I slayed. That was the reality of my childhood. In my whole life I’ve had maybe five friends until I started working more closely with the Scribes and then I started making more friends, but even I can tell when something is wrong and when something is right.” She sighed and slumped down into a chair, needing the support from it. “Look I get that this isn’t easy, I get that, I really do. But what am I meant to do for Reza? I offered to pay for therapy, I told him that if he needed anything then I’d do whatever I could to make it better for him. I told him that if he wanted help then he could have it. But he turned me down.” There had been a time when she had felt guilty about it. But now she felt almost nothing. “I can’t help him if he doesn’t want my help and I can’t changed what has happened. Maybe the situation that we’re in isn’t ideal, but I’m doing the best that I can.” She sighed gently and fiddled with a cushion on her lap. Pinching at the fabric anxiously. “What do you want me to do? I can’t change who I am and I’m sorry that that is losing you friends, I have tried so hard to stop Deirdre from not being your friend, I begged her to stop being so stubborn and to get in contact with you but I can’t force these things. I don’t know what you want from me Bridget? How can I convince you that I care?”

“You’re gorgeous and easy to talk to! So –” Bridget shook her head. “So even if your childhood made it impossible to have friends, that has to do with how you were brought up and not your personality. I’ve never been able to make friends, and I got lucky now, but maybe it wasn’t meant to be. That’s what I keep telling myself, at least. Maybe friends really aren’t my thing.” She shook her head quickly, almost violently and looked over to Veronica. “Did you ever say sorry? Not that a sorry for something like this’ll do much, in the long run, but it might do something. Show him that you feel bad for the pain you caused him.” She sank down into the couch again, across the room from Veronica. “Deirdre’s never going to trust me again but I – well, whatever. She deserves better.” Bridget fiddled with the edge of her skirt. “I don’t know what I want.” Her gaze flicked up at Veronica, and she found her eyes narrowing again, against her will. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Veronica was supposed to be someone she’d never lose her temper with. “What should I want? I want an equal balance in the world, I want things to fit together just like how they are supposed to.” She shook her head again and bit her lip.

Veronica almost couldn’t understand what she was hearing. “Are you joking?” she replied with a frown, “You think that you’re not deserving of friends because of your personality?” she shook her head incredulously and sighed, slipping back down into the chair as she had shot to her feet a moment ago. “If people didn’t want to be friends with you when they were kids that is on them, that isn’t on you. But I can think of a million people who would give their right arm to have a friend like you.” She sighed again and tapped her fingers anxiously on her knee. “Of course I said sorry, I wasn’t going to not apologise for cutting his boyfriend’s head off in front of him, he didn’t deserve to see that. No one does.” She sighed and shook her head once more. “No. You deserve better than Deirdre, who lets be quite honest isn’t completely sane, I’m sick of having to clean up her mess when things don’t go right and in this case it was her mistake not yours. You wouldn’t have told me that she was a banshee, so why should you have had to tell her that I was a slayer?” She shook her head again, furious about the entire situation. “Things aren’t going to fit together Bridget, things aren’t going to make themselves work, but we well we can make things work. We can make this work.”

Bridget looked over to Veronica. “It’s not what I think. It’s a matter of experience. I don’t do friends well, no matter how much I’d like to.” She tugged slightly at one of her curls. “Friendships are hard for me, Veronica. That’s all I need you to acknowledge. You might not have had many as a kid, but you’re able to make them with greater ease now.” Bridget gave a small shrug. “Well that’s good, at least.” She muttered. “Deirdre is wonderful – you can’t call her that. Also it’s not your job to clean up her mess, and obviously I am not outing anybody’s species to anybody else.” She half-scoffed. “For now at least, I guess.” Her voice grew quiet and she looked down at her lap. She was still mad – mad and confused and worried, all jumbled into one. “I mean – I – I want this to work, obviously but somehow my optimism about much of life halts when it comes to interpersonal relationships of mine.”

Sighing, Veronica crossed the room and slid into the seat next to Bridget’s, she looked her dead in the eyes before she spoke. “Maybe you should stop thinking about how things used to be and start focusing on how things are, sure you used to not do friends well, but I can think of several people who would say that you’re doing friends really well right now. Molly, Ember, Marley, Ricky, Reza and Deirdre have all been your friends, and that is only people I can name off of the top of my head.” She sighed, trying to think of a way to put this that Bridget would get. “Sure, it might have been difficult in the past, but you’re someone that people want to be friends with. I know that friendships aren’t easy for you, but just because something is difficult doesn’t mean that you’re bad at it.” She sighed and shook her head again. “No. I can and I will call her that because even though there is a part of me that enjoys Deirdre, she has treated you unfairly and continues to treat you unfairly by punishing you for something that I do. You wouldn’t punish Deirdre for something that her partner did, so why does that give her the right to do the same for you?” She sighed and reached out for Bridget’s hands. “Look, I get that this is really difficult for you, I get that things aren’t perfect right now but you need to stop expecting people to run away from you, I want to be with you Bridget ….” she trailed off, trying to think of the right words, “…its more than that, I don’t just want to be your girlfriend, I think – no, I know that … I love you Bridget.”

Bridget felt herself tense up slightly as Veronica came to sit down next to her. “I – I suppose.” She pressed her legs against each other. “It just doesn’t feel right, and it’s still weird. I think, in many ways, I need my sister just as much if not more than she needs me.” Her voice was quiet, but she knew Veronica would hear her. “My personality still isn’t one that encourages others to be friends with me, but fine.” She bit her lip. “No, you can’t call her that. I adore her and would still do anything for her, and she does what she does because she has to have have trauma regarding Slayers, Hunters, and Wardens and before she thought I was just human but to have be so actively involved with a Slayer hurts her. Even if it is unfounded and of course I’d never judge her for her she was dating – with a few exceptions, but still. That mostly has to do with who I do and don’t like. Not the point.” She let Veronica take her hands and offered her a small smile. Perhaps still too careful, but she still felt worried. Worried she’d disappoint Veronica, worried that she’d mess something up incredibly, worried — “What?” She blinked at her words. “I –” Darn it, Bridget. Just say the words. Not. That. Hard. “I do too. Love you. No, wait – ” She shook her head briefly. “I love you, Veronica. Better?”

Smiling gently at Bridget’s words, Veronica felt the tension that had been building in her stomach at the brief moment of silence that had stood between her and Bridget dissolve and get replaced by a simple feeling of elation. This was nice. This was better than anything she’d ever felt before. “I don’t want to argue,” she said finally, “I just want to see you and I’m sorry if you’re losing friends because of me, I am sorry if Reza and Deirdre can’t see that you’re the best person they’ve met in a long time, but I can see it and I want you to know that I am sorry that all of this has happened.” She leaned forward and hugged Bridget, placing a kiss on her cheek and holding her tightly, inhaling the scent of her hair and her perfume and the conditioner that she used and the detergent that washed her clothes and she felt safe. For the first time in a while. She felt truly safe.

“Neither do I.” She replied, looking over at Veronica. Something was still off, something that she couldn’t quite shake – it had been in Veronica’s words before, and it made her feel uneasy. But she grinned at Veronica, briefly, and let herself be pulled into a hug. “You think too highly of me, but it’s appreciated.” Bridget ran one of her hands through Veronica’s hair. “I – I’ve wanted to say those words for a while.” She mumbled, breaking away from Veronica for a moment, though she rested a hand on her leg. “The tea’s cold now.” She glanced over to their mugs. “Sorry.”

Veronica smiled gently at Bridget and shook her head. Despite everything that had just happened, despite the argument and despite the fact that people rejected Bridget because of her – which hurt, she had to be honest – she couldn’t think of anywhere else that she could honestly say that she would rather be. This place was perfect for her. Here, in Bridget’s arms. “Me too, I just didn’t want to scare you off or ruin a good thing,” she shrugged gently and bit her lip, “I think you perhaps think too little of yourself Bridget,” she replied with a sigh, “but that is a matter for another time.” Looking over at the tea, Veronica shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, so long as I’m with you, that is what matters.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow at Veronica’s confession. “Oh, well, that is nice to hear.” She narrowed her eyes. “No, I don’t. I think quite highly about a lot of aspects of myself, but for all that I am an optimist, I like to throw in a dose of reality as well. For part of the same reason I don’t tend to lie. My job is already highly specialized, and I don’t need any reasons for anybody to doubt me anymore than they already do.” She shook her head. “Well, I do quite like being around you, too.” Bridget pressed her lips against Veronica’s. “More than a little.”

Sighing gently, Veronica decided that convincing Bridget that she was being overly self deprecating about herself was perhaps a task that would take longer than one moment, but she was determined to show Bridget just how great she was. “Well we are going to have to agree to disagree,” she said with a shrug, “but I don’t think that anyone has good reason to doubt you, every time that I have had to work with you as a Scribe I have been nothing but impressed with your work, but then again I am biased.” She smiled and kissed Bridget back. “I’m glad we could do this, after everything that has been happening it is nice to just … relax.”

"Fine, only because I like you.” Bridget said, blowing a few strands of hair out of her face. “You are biased, so that’s not a fair judgement of my abilities as a Scribe.” She looked up at Veronica, breathing in the scent of her perfume. “I agree. Everything’s been quite frightfully busy so… this is good.” It has to be, she told herself. There’s no other way about it. “I love you, again.” She scrunched up her nose. “I also like saying that.” Bridget felt cheeks flush quickly. “Quite a bit.”

#p: bridget #touchofchatzy #para #make this go on forever

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