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#what if our noses touched and we were both cat blobs
marbirds · 2 years
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kitty kisses [ID in alt text]
tattoo tickets
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salchat · 2 years
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Someone Furry
Rodney missed his cat.  He missed the way she’d jump up onto his lap and drape herself over his legs, her soft, heavy weight warming him from inside and out.  He missed the feel of her fur between his fingers, the way he could run his hand the whole length of her body from her nose, over her flattened ears, down her soft sides and then, his hand closed to surround it, all the way to the tip of her tail.  He missed her deep, thrumming purr, the chirps and brips she made in response to his voice, so that they often had far more sensible conversations than he ever did with his colleagues.
But most of all he missed her simple presence, her neutral acceptance of everything he did, everything he was; her wide golden eyes that regarded him, not with contempt as some people interpreted the penetrating gaze of a cat, but with all-seeing, all-knowing recognition of him as belonging absolutely and completely to her.
He’d left her.  Of course he’d left her on Earth.  He’d had to.  And he’d known he’d probably never see her again and it had torn a hole in his heart that he didn’t think was ever likely to heal.  Had her feline heart suffered similar damage?  Or did she regard her new owner with that wide-eyed gaze and then jump up onto their lap and present herself for their attention in the way he missed so much?  Probably.  Cats were pragmatists.  It was a fact of life.
Rodney eased out his back and spun around on his stool, unsurprised to find the lab empty.  He stretched up to peer over the top of Radek’s screen, but there were no tufts of wild hair or glinting rims of glasses or exhausted, propped-open eyes.  And no wonder - it was nearly three in the morning.
He yawned, scratched his head, scratched his stomach and then, because there was no one about, he reached up under his shirt and had a general scratch around, chasing an itch that ran from his questing fingers.  He ran it to ground on his right shoulder blade, his left shoulder cracking as he reached behind himself to wipe the itch out of existence with sweeps of his thumb.  Then he stretched himself out again and adjusted his shirt into some kind of order.
Was Sheppard back yet?  No,  He couldn’t be.  It was more than the Gate techs’ lives were worth not to inform him immediately of any updates in John’s status, when he’d given them such very firm, explicit instructions.  Anyway, there was no need to worry, he told himself - again.  John was out doing good works, overseeing both Lorne’s team and Stackhouse’s team while they helped out a village hit by a mudslide.  And what the inhabitants of the Pegasus Galaxy had done before Intergalactic Rescue had shown up Rodney had no idea, but he thought just occasionally they should go back to doing whatever it was they had done before and leave Atlantis out of it, and especially an over-tired, mission-weary, easily-guilt-tripped-into-doing-whatever-you-want John Sheppard.
“They’re our allies, Rodney - they help us, we help them.”
Huh.  Rodney spent a satisfying ten minutes grumbling aloud to himself about a bunch of rustics who’d never have anything useful to contribute apart from a few inferior, knobbly vegetables that tasted of mouldy turnip, so why should John have to bother helping them?  Of course, Rodney had found the problem in their Ancient aqueduct system.  And there’d been that kid who kept hanging around him and calling him Dr Rodanee-sir and bringing him cups of the local drink which tasted remarkably like chocolate milkshake.  But those things were beside the point.  And John had flat-out denied Rodney’s request to go on the rescue mission.
Anyway, he was tired and he missed his cat.  Because sometimes you just needed someone furry, and that was all there was to it.
He went to bed.
In the morning Sheppard still wasn’t back and everyone in the lab was being more than usually stupid and noisy and so wrong that he had to make them all stop what they were doing so that he could enumerate and elaborate on all the ways in which they were wrong, providing each member of his staff with a detailed verbal list that they should damn well take notes on for future reference.  And yes, he would be testing them on their knowledge of their own wrongness at an unspecified future date.
Then Stackhouse’s team came back, exhausted and covered in mud.  Then Lorne’s team, ditto.  Then (and Rodney thought there might be dents in the Gateroom railing from his clenched hands), finally, Sheppard staggered through the Gate, more exhausted and more covered in mud than any of them.
John looked up at Rodney and Rodney looked down at John.  His muddy right hand twitched in what was probably an attempt at a wave conveying his general fineness and that nobody should worry or fuss or do anything that expressed the remotest kind of concern.  It was a pathetic attempt and merely underlined his not fineness and that everyone and most particularly Rodney, should definitely be concerned.
Rodney found himself at John’s side, unsure how he’d transported himself down from the control level - a giant leap over the crushed railing?  Levitation?
Medical staff harried the muddy men and women away, and Rodney followed, at John’s side, not touching him, because… ew.  There wasn’t a square inch of unmuddied skin.  Even John’s eyes were red, as if they’d got mud in too.  And his hair was just unnatural - plastered to his head, showing the actual shape of his skull, which you just never saw, even when he was straight out of the shower because mere water was nothing against the springiness of John Sheppard’s hair.  A couple of times Rodney looked around in case he was shadowing the wrong mud-monster, but no, this brown figure was definitely the right shape and size and seemed to have that slouchy gait, even though its feet were dragging and its arms dangling in abject weariness.
They wouldn’t let Rodney in the infirmary.  And it was Rodney who’d helped install the roomful of showers for just such an occasion as this, when filthy, exhausted teams came back, probably contaminated with all kinds of viruses and parasites, germs and bacteria and no doubt hiding injuries beneath their assorted filth.
So he sat down and waited.  And no, it wasn’t the same as waiting for news when John had been carried to the infirmary, injured and unable to make it under his own steam.  It wasn’t as if Rodney was waiting, terrified, for life-or-death news, biting his nails and chewing the inside of his cheek until it bled.
But he really missed his cat.  And he’d had a bad day - a bad few days.  Which surely must be all John’s fault, because most things were, or at least they were his absence’s fault because you just needed someone like John around all the time for some reason.  Look, he wasn’t going to analyse it, alright?  It was a fact.  And Rodney missed his cat.
And probably Carson would want to keep John here - for observation.  Rodney snorted, spraying bits of chewed up nail onto the floor.  If John needed observing he’d do it - because who better to observe than a scientist?  Observing was what he did.  He’d watch John like a hawk, he’d take notes and draw diagrams, he’d gather data, both quantitative and qualitative, he’d hypothesise and extrapolate.  What more could any medical so-called professional do?
“Yes, you can go.”  The doctor’s long suffering voice followed a round-shouldered scrub-clad figure through the barely slid-open doors.
“Hey, Rodney.”
Rodney stood up, beginning his scrutiny right here and now.  “Your eyes are red.  You need antibiotic drops.”
“Had them.”
“Has that scrape on your face been disinfected?”
“Yeah.”
“The bandage on your wrist - what’s that hiding?”
“t’s just sprained.  Can we get out of here?”
Rodney folded his arms and conveyed through his most steely glare that John had better not try to hide even the most minor of injuries from him or he’d been in a whole shit-tonne of trouble which would make a mudslide look like that time some idiot had knocked over Rodney’s chocolate pudding.
“You’re coming with me.”
He took John’s arm, because there was no way he was allowing a rudderless John Sheppard to drift away from him.  The exhausted man didn’t wriggle away or even protest, which made Rodney grumble angrily under his breath about societies that couldn’t clear up after their own natural disasters and just had to go and impose themselves upon overworked Colonels.
They made it to his room and he let John slither onto the bed and stacked up the pillows around him until he was approximately upright with most of his limbs on the bed.
“This is your room, Rodney.”
“Yes.  It is.  And you’re in it.”
“’kay.”
“Humph.”  Rodney nodded, glad John had accepted his to-be-pushed-around status.  “First you’re going to eat.  And then you’re going to sleep.”
“Yessir,” slurred John.
Rodney boiled some water and made some instant mashed potato, which was one of his preferred food choices in cases of extreme exhaustion.  It was the cheesy mash type, which was his covetously-hoarded favourite, but John looked like a man in great need of a large bowl of cheesy mash.  With a blob of ketchup on top.  Maybe more than one blob.
John smiled a sleepy smile at the ketchup blobs, which may have formed a crude happy face, but that was, of course, a complete accident on Rodney’s part.  The mash was mechanically consumed.  Rodney took the bowl and then pushed a glass into John’s hand, making sure his scraped knuckles curled around it.  The glass contained chocolate milkshake, but only because he’d been thinking today about that stuff they made on the mudslide planet.  He hadn’t gone out of his way to get the powder or the milk.  And absolutely no begging had been involved at the entrance to the hallowed, jealously guarded territory of the kitchen staff.
He sat down next to John, glad that he hadn’t been stupid enough to take his friend back to his own room with its tiny bed.  This way he too could sit propped up by a bank of pillows, which were necessary to support his back while he carried out his purely clinical observations of his team leader.
John drained the glass and he was too tired and too oblivious to wipe away his milkshake moustache, so Rodney did it for him.
Then John smiled another lop-sided sleepy smile, his eyelids drooped and shut down completely and his slumped body slumped even more, slowly slithering down until his head rested in Rodney’s lap.
Rodney missed his cat.  He missed the way she’d jump up onto his lap and drape herself over his legs, her soft, heavy weight warming him from inside and out.  He missed the feel of her fur between his fingers, the way he could run his hand the whole length of her body from her nose, over her flattened ears, down her soft sides and then, his hand closed to surround it, all the way to the tip of her tail.  He missed her deep, thrumming purr, the chirps and brips she made in response to his voice, so that they often had far more sensible conversations than he ever did with his colleagues.
But Rodney had his friend.  He had John, who had fallen asleep on him, his head heavy on Rodney’s thighs, his newly-washed hair fluffy and thick and dark.  He touched the soft strands and they tickled his palm.  Then he ran his hand over and through the dense thicket, from John’s forehead, curving all the way around his head to the nape of his neck where the hairs were short and usually they looked scratchy, but at the moment they too felt soft and fine.  He lifted his hand and stroked again, the hair running through his fingers, dragging and flattening, then freeing itself to spring up into feathery plumes.  Then once again and again, slowly, gently, with a rhythm of love and peace.
And in Rodney’s chest a knot released and something warm and sweet and caramelly-rich blossomed and spread out until his body was as loose and relaxed as John’s.
He missed his cat.  But he had his friend, who he loved and who loved him in return.  And as Rodney stroked and stroked and watched John’s slow, happy rise and fall of deep-sleep breathing, the exhausted man began to snore, in a gentle, thrumming, rumble, which sounded remarkably like a purr.
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gunpowdville · 3 years
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The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED], Chapter 2
chapter: 2/2
relationships: Drumbot Brian-Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius Von Raum, Nastya Rasputina/the Aurora
Other things: genderfluid Tim, she/her Tim, he/fae Marius, temporary character death, possession, canon-typical violence. but mostly literally just silly self-indulgent fluff.
chapter 1
ao3
Read here below the cut >:}
The Rec Room: Tim, Lyf, Marius. All 10 still alive. (a few minutes before It is released)
Lazy days on Aurora are hard to come by, and when they do happen, they are spent most often by complaining about how boring lazy days are. Some, however, can find content in the slower days spent in relative peace and quiet. Case in point: the three currently buried in a pillow nest in the middle of the rec room floor.
The situation is this: the pillows and cushions from the furniture all stripped away and stolen to build a comfortable arrangement on the floor. Gunpowder Tim, in simply a loose blouse and leggings, hair braided elegantly over one shoulder. Lyfrassir Edda, in what is undeniably one of Tim’s waistcoats, perched in between the gunner’s legs, having their hair braided by her deft hands. Marius von Raum, sprawled across Lyf’s lap, waving his hands about animatedly as he talks.
“You left out the best part,” Tim says as Marius finishes relaying the story of how fae and Raph had joined the crew. “You forgot to mention the bit where Bri gave the two of you an actual job interview. And how, upon being asked your greatest strengths, you said, and I quote, ‘I’m hot.’”
“You did not,” Lyf looks utterly scandalized. “At a job interview?”
“You forget, love, that the job fae was applying for was being a Mechanism,” Tim points out, running her fingers through the former inspector’s hair. “The criteria is pretty much being able to play an instrument and willing to do crime.”
“Speaking of,” Marius says, batting aimlessly at Tim’s face where it peeks at him over Lyf’s shoulder. “It’s a shame that we only really have two or so songs together, Tim. We should get to sing together more.”
Tim nods in agreement. “We’re simply too powerful together.”
“I’ve been thinking of trying to get Jonny to let the three of us sing Blood & Whiskey,” Marius admits, then frowns. “Oh, wait, sorry Lyffers, I forgot you sound like a drowning cat when you sing.”
“I do not!” Lyf flushes scarlet, turning their face away from Tim’s raised eyebrow.
“You’re right, sorry, it’s more like a drowning cat playing a kazoo.”
Lyf makes an attempt to hit Marius lightly, but the violinist just catches their hand and kisses the back of it, grinning wickedly.
“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you sing,” Tim says slyly, tying off the braid and leaning forward so she can rest her chin on Lyf’s shoulder. “Would you sing for me?”
“Do you enjoy the sound of a drowning cat playing a kazoo?” Lyf asks her.
“Well, not exactly…”
“Then according to Mare, you do not want to hear me sing.”
Tim pouts, showing off her mastery of sad puppy dog eyes. The overhead lights glinting off the metal make them sparkle, creating a masterfully alluring wide gaze. “Please? Just a bit? For me?”
It is next to impossible to argue with those eyes, especially once you’ve already fallen hard for the person making them at you. With a sigh, Lyf squeezes their eyes tight shut and awkwardly sings a few lines of Blood & Whiskey. It sounds, as promised, like a drowning cat playing a kazoo.
Tim manages to hold a straight face for roughly three seconds before guffawing with laughter, burying her face in the spot between Lyf’s shoulder and neck to smother her cackles.
Lyf breaks off, turning their head slightly with a gently irritated eyebrow raised at their partner. “Are you finished?”
“Sorry,” Tim gasps between giggles, nuzzling further into their neck, failing miserably at trying to stifle her mirth. “I- I just- I didn’t expect it to actually sound- like that- I’m- I’m sorry-”
“I told you,” Marius crows, grinning up at Lyf and Tim with triumphant teasing fire in faer eyes. “Wasn’t I right?”
“You two are very rude to me,” Lyf huffs, sticking their nose in the air haughtily. Tim lifts her face from their shoulder and noses their jaw, murmuring something about drowning cats and how they have never sounded more attractive. Lyf pointedly ignores her.
“Aw, hey, don’t be like that, fairytale,” Marius heaves himself into a sitting position and catches the former inspector’s face in his hands. “Y’know we’re just teasing you ‘cuz we love you, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,”Lyf sighs, giving in and letting faer kiss them.
“Sappy,” Tim comments, earning a petulant finger from Marius. “Also, fairytale?”
“They’re my fairytale,” Marius declares proudly, and Tim pouts. “What am I, then?”
“You,” Lyf contemplates, turning their head to meet Tim’s metallic gaze with their own iridescent one. “You’re my battle cry. You’re the song I sing for strength when I can’t find it. You’re my declaration to the world that I will not stand still and break. You’re the inspiration that keeps me fighting. My battle cry.”
“Well,” Tim blinks, making a valiant attempt to keep her voice steady. “Hey now. You didn’t have to go and do that to me.”
Lyf’s brow furrows, concern instantly evident in their features. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, goddamnit, you said everything right, you- fuck.” without another word, Tim fists a hand in the front of their shirt and pulls them into a kiss. “I fucking love you.”
Lyf’s (no doubt sappy as all hell) response is cut off by Marius, who groans and rolls out of their lap with a huff. “If you two are going to be like that, I’m leaving.”
“You started it,” Tim points out, “but whatever, more Lyf time for me.”
Marius sticks faer tongue out at her as fae leaves. “Go see if Bri’s made me any munchies!” Tim calls after him, before turning back to her partner with a decidedly malicious smirk. “Now, where were we?”
They are interrupted not long after by Brian, who comes barging into the room without preamble, zeroes distractedly in on the pair of them, says “Oh. Hello, dears. Have either of you seen an unidentifiable mass of sentient ooze? Slightly larger than an octokitten? It ate Marius,” and then hurries out the opposite door.
Tim and Lyf glance at each other, attempting to register his words. “Wha- Brian, what?”
But the Drumbot has already disappeared down the corridor, leaving the two of them to scramble to their feet and race after him, their questions landing on ignorant ears.
Nastya, the corridors: 9 left alive, 1 eaten.
Nastya spends her lazy days with her girlfriend, most of the time. She enjoys the quieter hours when she can work on repairs, listening to Aurora tell her stories or complain about whatever is on her mind. This particular lazy day, the engineer is sitting cross-legged on the floor of one of the corridors, right outside Jonny’s room, her hands deftly working at the wires beneath one of the wall panels. Aurora is telling her about a new program she and Ivy are working on, a sort of virtual reality experience for the shooting range that will ‘revitalize the excitement of warfare’, in her words. Nastya listens intently, interjecting with questions when she has them and praise when it is deserved.
As she finishes up, carefully replacing the wall panel and smiling softly at Aurora’s petulant complaints, something drops from the air vent above her. She takes a smooth step back as the thing falls to the floor with a wet thwack. At first glance it resembles an octokitten, but as it unfurls it reveals itself as more of a dark glistening lump, tendrils of gooey flesh extending across the floor toward Nastya.
“Well, hello,” The engineer says, tilting her head to study it. “What are you?”
That is the cake our Drumbot and his science officer made, Aurora answers for her. Don’t touch it.
“This is a cake?”
I believe it was supposed to be.
“And what is it now?”
Decidedly not a cake.
It’s at that moment that Ivy comes racing into the corridor, breathless and looking faintly annoyed. “Ah. Nastya. Good. Have you seen-” her eyes drift to the thing at Nastya’s feet. “That.”
“I am certainly looking at it right now,” Nastya says in response, nudging a toe forward to poke at it. Ivy throws out an arm to stop her. “Do not. Unless you want to get eaten.”
Nastya raises an eyebrow and quickly steps back, just as an octokitten meanders into the area, approaching the blob with a curious ‘mrrp’. Ivy dives for it, but the creature is much faster, latching onto the octokitten in a second. But instead of eating it, the thing seems to melt into it, turning it a darker color.
“Hm,” Ivy hums curiously. “That’s new.”
The possessed octokitten zeroes in on Ivy and Nastya, yawning wide to show a lot more teeth than should be able to fit in its mouth.
“Run?” Nastya suggests, watching the kitten start forward on uneasy tentacles.
“Run,” Ivy agrees.
Jonny & Ashes, the shooting range: 9 left alive, 1 eaten.
The shooting range is one of the few rooms on Aurora that isn’t quiet on lazy days. This day is no different from any other in that regard, with the sounds of gunfire and cackling echoing from behind the wide open door. The quartermaster and the first mate are both in there, trapped in a pointless competition to outshoot each other. They have done this many times before, and who wins changes nearly every time. But it’s an excellent way to distract and relieve stress, and Jonny had noticed Ashes appearing down earlier, so he had suggested a shooting competition. He never said that he was doing it to cheer them up, but he’s pretty sure they’ve caught on to his intentions.
“I kicked your ass harder than Brian got his ass kicked in that sun,” Ashes remarks, standing over Jonny, who lies prone on the floor. Jonny groans and sits up, shoving his singed hair off of his forehead. “You cheated.”
“Says what rules?” Ashes snorts, reaching down to help him up.
“It was a shooting match, O’Reilly, not a goddamn grenade match.”
“Your screaming was hilarious, though.”
Jonny scowls and flips them off. Ashes laughs and slips another grenade into their pocket, a little something to save for later.
The trapdoor in the ceiling of the shooting range drops open, and Raphaella tumbles through, falling head over heels and landing neatly on her feet with a dancer’s grace. “We have something of a problem.”
“Yeah, Ashes just fucking blew me up,” Jonny complains, and Ashes rolls their eyes. “You’re fine.”
“You’re fine,” Raphaella says at exactly the same time, and Ashes shoots a grin at her. “Anyway, Bri and I may have done… something.”
“You may have done something,” Brian argues, breezing into the room with Tim and Lyf close on his heels. “I take no responsibility.”
“Can we please go back to the part where it ate my boyfriend?” Lyf demands, causing Jonny��s eyebrows to shoot up practically to his hairline. “Someone’s eating boyfriends?”
“The octokittens are possessed,” this is Nastya, squeezing past Brian through the door, tailed by Ivy.
“Possessed?”
“Possessed,” Ivy confirms, to Brian’s incredulous outburst.
“D’you mean those octokittens?” Jonny asks, pointing to the door. Sure enough, a gaggle of octokittens meanders through, moving a bit unsteadily, oily dark colors writhing beneath their skin.
“That looks like- that’s-” Lyf’s eyes go wide as they stare at the kittens. “What the fuck is that?”
“It was supposed to be a cake,” Brian says mournfully.
“It ate Marius!”
“It’s technically your child, Lyf,” Raphaella pipes up. “The compound I used to make it is based on your blood samples.”
Lyf just stares at her.
“It doesn’t look that bad,” Ashes remarks. They crouch down and flip open their lighter, holding it in front of one of the kittens’ face. It flinches, then snarls and shoots toward them, latching onto their foot, its jaws opening far wider than they should be able to. They try to kick it off, but its tentacles appear to have melted onto their skin and are slowly eating through. With a squelch, the odd entity detaches fully from its octokitten host, who blinks and scuttles into the corner.
With a pained grunt, Ashes drops their lighter onto the thing on their foot, successfully setting the thing alight. It recoils and retreats to the center of the floor, squelching in a frantic circle. It leaves behind nothing left of the quartermaster’s foot, and Ashes stumbles and is caught by Jonny, who steadies them and shoots a murderous look at the flaming blob.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Ashes hisses through their teeth, pain evident on their features. “Goddamn. What the fuck, you two.”
“Again, I take no responsibility,” Brian insists. Raphaella sticks her tongue out at him. “You are a bastard and a traitor and I never loved you anyway.”
Brian blows her a kiss and a wink.
“Interesting,” Ivy interrupts, pulling out a notepad and writing something down. “It appears fire is ineffective.”
This gets everyone’s attention directed back to the creature, which is indeed decidedly not dead or incapacitated in any way. It isn’t even on fire anymore. And it looks angry.
“You’re kidding me,” Ashes growls, staring at the thing with disgusted fury.
“Run,” Tim suggests, pushing Lyf gently out of the way as the thing focuses on them and begins to move forward. “Split up and run. It can’t get all of us at once.”
Jonny nods and dutifully starts off out of the room, taking Ashes with him, holding them up as they limp and curse. Ivy and Nastya shoot off in another direction, Nastya scooping up the disgruntled left-behind octokitten as she goes. Raphaella grabs Lyf’s wrist and pulls them up through the ceiling trapdoor, ignoring their startled protests. That leaves Tim with Brian. She turns to him, poised to ask what the plan is, but hesitates when she sees Brian standing there, head cocked to one side, staring blankly at the empty floor. The bifrost cake-creature is nowhere to be seen.
“Brian?” Tim steps forward, reaching out and resting a concerned hand on his shoulder. “Bri? You good?”
Brian’s head lifts, slowly, in an uncharacteristically stilted motion. His eyes are… wrong. Something is moving in them, and if Tim looks closely she can see it oozing from the corners. Oh. Oh no.
“Fuck,” she breathes, stumbling backward and reaching for a pistol. “Not Brian not Brian not Brian.”
The thing in Brian’s body smiles, forcing the expression onto the Drumbot’s face. It takes a step forward. Of course, it’s at that moment that the Toy Soldier decides to make its first appearance.
“Sorry I’m late!” It announces as it steps into the shooting range. “I was in the middle of a delightful painting using the blood from that corpse Jonny dragged onto the ship the other day! I didn’t want to leave it for too long in case it was ruined! Anyway, I heard there was a crew meeting?”
“Oh, I’d love to see that painting,” Tim says, momentarily distracted. The Toy Soldier claps its hands together excitedly. “Of course! I’ll set up a viewing!”
Tim grins. “Lovely. Now, what do you know of possession?”
“Well, it depends on what kind!”
“Um,” Tim glances back at Brian and whatever is piloting him, who has stopped in its tracks and is watching the exchange curiously. “Well. Would you.. Happen to know anything about possession by.. Cake?”
In the brief pause that follows, the thing inside Brian appears to give up on its curiosity and steps forward, opening his mouth. Tim frowns at it for a moment, confused, and then she sees the soft glow building in the back of the Drumbot’s throat. “Oh shit.”
Tim & The Toy Soldier, just outside the shooting range, 9 left alive, 1 footless, 1 eaten
Tim grabs the Toy Soldier and pulls it with her as she bolts to the door, just as a jet of flame shoots out of Brian’s mouth.
“Since when can he do that?” she yelps, flattening herself against a wall to avoid being scorched.
“Oh, that is interesting!” TS declares, peeking around the doorframe. Tim nods. “So. To catch you up. There’s some sort of Bifrost related demon-creature loose on the ship, it is currently inside Brian’s body and appears to be controlling him. Fire can’t kill it. Oh, and it ate Mare.”
The Toy Soldier nods, bouncing on the balls of its feet. “So?”
Tim blinks, then shrugs. “We kill it, I suppose. At least get it out of Brian.”
“How do we do that?”
“That’s what I’m asking you!”
Another jet of flame shoots past them, followed by what sounded oddly like a frustrated grunt. The thing still hasn’t actually followed them into the hall, which is a good sign, if somewhat nonsensical. Tim flinches further back instinctively, feeling the heat in her eyes.
“I don’t know what to do,” she confesses. “I don’t know how to get it out without opening Brian up, and he won’t like that. And I can’t even get close to it when it’s breathing fire at us like that.”
“Hmm,” the Toy Soldier hums a thoughtful note. Tim bites her lip, thinking, then lets out a soft laugh. “I’m glad I’m here with you and not Nastya,” she tells TS. “She’d probably suggest kissing it.”
There’s an awkward clank from the shooting range, followed by the sounds of a struggle. Tim glances at TS, who shrugs. “I could kiss it!”
“Could you?” Tim frowns again. “I mean.. I suppose it would just be kissing Brian, wouldn’t it, unless.. D’you think that would work? The kissing?”
“Possibly!” the Toy Soldier sounds positively thrilled about the prospect. “I’m very good at it, you know!”
“I feel like making out with the eldritch blob possessing our crewmate is a bit extreme,” Tim says, peeking around to corner to see what’s happening in the shooting range. What she sees gives her pause.
Brian seems to be fighting back against the thing holding his body hostage. He’s standing in the room where they left him, and every so often he takes a jerky, strained step forward, like he’s having to force himself to step. Although in this case its more likely that he’s trying to stop himself from taking a step. He looks pained, and Tim feels that familiar protective rage rising in her, that feeling of no he’s mine you can’t hurt him. All thoughts of kissing fade away, and she steps out, pistol in hand, and marches back into the shooting range.
“Brian,” she says, and the Drumbot’s head lifts slightly, his eyes still leaking sludgy iridescence. “Bri. Hey. I know you can hear me. Uh. I’m going to do something, and it might be.. A bit uncomfortable for you, but it will hopefully work out in the long run. So do me a favor and… stop fighting it for a moment? Just a moment.”
Brian gives her a wary look, but nods stiffly, clearly using every bit of control he has left. Then he lets go. His face goes blank, and his mouth opens, that glowing heat making another appearance. With a grimace, Tim lifts her pistol and fires.
The bullet flies true, carving straight through the flamethrower mechanism in the back of Brian’s throat and exiting out the back of his head. There’s an inhuman screeching sound, and Brian jerks once as the creature, with its main source of power destroyed, crawls out of the hole left behind.
Brian shudders once, then raises a hand to touch the new hole in his head.
“You alright?” Tim asks, stepping forward. “You.. you?”
“I’m fine,” Brian reassures her. “That could have obliterated my vocal cords, but I’m alright.”
“You’re welcome,” Tim says, tossing her braid back over her shoulder smugly.
“I don’t want to ruin the good mood,” TS says, peeking into the room curiously. “But, where did it go?”
Tim and Brian both freeze, locking terrified eyes. And then the lights go out.
Raphaella, Lyfrassir, Nastya, Ivy: In the dark. 9 left alive, 1 eaten, 1 footless
When the lights go out, someone screams. It’s Lyf. Raphaella shoots them a glare over her shoulder, aware of their ability to see in the dark.
“Sorry,” they whisper. Raphaella frowns. “Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know,” they admit. “It feels like the right thing to do.”
“Aurora?” That’s Nastya’s voice, coming from just ahead of them. She sounds worried. “Aurora, please say something. Please tell me if you’re hurt. Aurora?”
“Nas?” Raphaella moves forward, stretching a hand out until she bumps into the engineer’s shoulder. Nastya grabs her hand and gives it a quick squeeze, an indication that she’s here and she’s alright. “Raph, good. Is Lyfrassir still with you?”
“Right here,” Lyf says, still whispering. “Where’s Ivy?”
“Here as well,” the archivist pipes up from the other side of Nastya. “Everyone’s okay, as far as we can tell, Aurora simply.. Stopped.”
“Do you think it got to her?” Lyf asks, shifting nervously behind Raphaella.
“It better not have,” Nastya snaps, her concern for her girlfriend evident in her voice.
Raphaella squeezes Nastya’s shoulder and looks around, cursing the fact that she hasn’t given herself night vision yet. “Ives, can you get ahold of Bri?”
Ivy nods and closes her eyes, typing out a message to Brian in her brain. After a moment, she nods again and announces, “He’s alright. Tim and the Toy Soldier are with him. It took control of his body, but they got it out of him and he’s barely hurt.”
“That’s good!” Raphaella exclaims, giving Nastya’s shoulder another squeeze. “That means Aurora should be fine, once we get it out of her!”
Nastya nods, expression growing determined. “How do we get it out of her?”
“Um, I don’t mean to alarm anyone,” Lyf says, sounding a bit shaky. “But there is something wrapped around my leg.”
They sound afraid, but not panicked or in pain, which causes Raphaella to frown. They don’t even sound urgent. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah I’m- I’m fine, it isn’t hurting me. It’s more… it’s like it’s hugging me.”
“Didn’t you say you made it out of their blood?” Ivy inquires, and Raphaella nods. “Perhaps it recognizes them as one of its own.”
“I don’t like the implications of that,” Lyf says quietly, then gives a determined shake of their head. “Right. Now is not the time for a Bifrost-related panic attack.”
“We can use this,” Raphaella perks up suddenly. “We can use your connection to it, Lyffy, to… something.”
Silence falls as the four of them think on it. And then Ivy speaks up. “I have something from Brian. He met up with Jonny and Ashes, and Jonny has an idea. He just needs us to lure it into something smaller and able to be picked up.”
“Can we do that?” Raphaella glances to Lyf, who nods. “Great. Let’s go.”
Lyfrassir, the kitchen. Same situation.
The kitchen is dark and eerie when Lyf enters, stepping carefully over the seething tendrils rising from the floor, grabbing at their legs. It’s almost possessive, the way it reaches for them, curling around them with its oozing tentacles. They can almost hear it talking to them, in their head, whispering mine mine mine. It terrifies that, but they shove it aside to think about later, once they’ve got this dealt with. Instead they focus on locating something small and liftable to lure the thing into. They find something almost instantly.
As they approach the object they’ve chosen, their Bifrost-enhanced eyes land on something in the middle of the floor, a moving shape.
“Hey, babe,” they say, stepping lightly over the half-formed Marius Von Raum to the counter.
“Hi,” fae groans, conscious enough for at least that. “Whatcha up to?”
“Oh, nothing,” Lyf replies, placing their hands gently on the object they want to bring the creature into, watching it curl up around their arms and moving down the walls toward them, chasing the contact. “And… there we are.”
In a flash, Jonny comes pelting into the room. He grabs Small Brian the electric mixer from Lyf’s hands, and as the lights come on he races down the corridor, and the sound of a door sliding open can be heard.
“What did you do?” Brian demands as the first mate reappears, smugly dusting off his hands.
“Tossed it out the airlock,” Jonny grins.
“Right, ‘cause throwing all our problems out an airlock always works,” Ashes snorts. Jonny frowns. “It does.”
Tim shakes her head. “Oh, you are so lucky I can’t roll my eyes too hard without fucking up my face, D’Ville.”
Brian looks gutted. “You- you threw- Small Brian?”
Jonny freezes. “Oh- oh shit, Bri- I didn’t- Shit shit shit.”
“We’re getting it back,” Brian says, folding his arms and glaring. “As soon as Aurora’s recovering, we’re getting it back.”
“How do we know that that thing will die out there and not just… devour a star system?” Lyf asks. Jonny shrugs. “That’s not our problem.”
“I… fair enough,” Lyf sighs, and casts a last look toward the airlock before going to help Marius up.
Brian & Raphaella: Everyone alive and well
They get everything on the ship back in order quickly. Marius is back, and is being regaled with the tales of what he missed by Lyf and Tim. As soon as Aurora is ready to move again, Brian takes her to pick up Small Brian, and he carries the mixer reverently back to its place in the kitchen. “You’re a hero,” he whispers to it, before kissing the top of it lightly. He then gathers all the ingredients to make another cake, a real one this time.
Just as he’s setting up to get everything made, Nastya comes marching out of the corridor from where she’s been checking up on Aurora, a flamethrower in hand.
“Right,” she says, firing up the weapon. “Where are the fuckers who got my girlfriend possessed?”
Raphaella and Brian glance at each other, knowing this was coming. With a grin, Raphaella runs over and grabs Brian’s hand, pulling him after her down the hall and away from the vengeful engineer.
Nastya curses and follows, and Raphaella lifts off the ground, sweeping Brian into her arms bridal-style to easier carry him. He yelps, and then laughs, twisting to look down and watch Nastya chase after them, looking furious.
Raphaella rounds into a tight corner and sets down, letting Brian back on his feet. They’re both giggling, and Brian buries his face in her shoulder, grinning widely. She kisses his hair and strokes it lightly, running her fingers around the edges of the hole in the back of his neck.
Nastya finds them like that, rounding the corner and hefting her flamethrower with a malicious glimmer in her eyes. “There you are,” she hisses, and this time there’s nowhere to run.
“It was fun while it lasted,” Raphaella murmurs to Brian as she pulls back, and he takes her hand.
“Love you always,” he replies, and she leans over to kiss his cheek. “See you soon.”
And together, they face their fate.
36 notes · View notes
tsarisfanfiction · 4 years
Text
Splatter
Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Virgil, Gordon, Scott, John, Jeff, Lucille
And another fic for @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief!  Two prompts for this one: “Little Virgil & Gordon” from @weirdburketeer and “Virgil trying to teach a brother how to art” from @melmac78
Scott was going to regret leaving him to handle Gordon alone, especially when paint got involved.
Nine year old Virgil eyed the paper in front of him critically.  It was almost done, almost perfect.  Just one more dab of paint… there.  His hand retreated and he nodded, satisfied, before movement caught his eye and reflexes honed by necessity caught questing, paint-covered, fingers as his menace of a younger brother reached out to deface his newly completed art.
“Gordon!” he complained at the five year old, who grinned back at him mischievously.  “What are you doing?”
“Painting!” he said gleefully, holding up two hands covered completely in a rainbow of colours.  With some despair, Virgil could see that damage had already been done – unsupervised, Gordon had managed quite an impressive array of handprints along the furniture and newly wallpapered walls.
Why was their demon brother unsupervised?
“Scott!” he hollered up at the ceiling.
“Scott’s busy!” Gordon chirped, smearing his paint-smothered hands on the table and narrowly missing Virgil’s completed artwork.  It was still too wet to move, and Virgil’s own fingers were paint-smeared and needed a wash before he touched it again anyway, therefore it was – somewhat – simpler to instead relocate the slippery creature he was apparently related to.
“Why is Scott busy?” he asked, hoping said brother would appear and take the five year old away before any more paint ended up where it shouldn’t.
“Homework!” Gordon grinned, flailing his hands around.  Globs of paint flew through the air, one landing squarely on Virgil’s nose.  He swiped it away irritably, only for Gordon to point and laugh.
He still had paint on his fingers.  And now on his face.
“SCOTT!” he yelled, as Gordon giggled insistently.  “JOHN!”
“What?” Scott’s voice finally floated down to him, sounding distracted.  John, predictably, didn’t answer.  His nose was probably buried in a book, rendering him deaf to the world. It wouldn’t be unusual.
“Gordon’s being a pain!” he complained.  With Mom and Dad taking Alan for a check-up, Scott had been left temporarily in charge and, in Virgil’s opinion, was doing a thoroughly poor job by shutting himself up in his room and letting Gordon run wild.
“I’m doing homework!” Scott shouted back.  “You play with him!”
A door shut upstairs, signalling the end of the conversation.  Virgil fumed silently at him for a moment, before realising that Gordon wasn’t giggling any more.  He looked around frantically, and found him raising a single, colourful, finger immediately above his finished artwork.
“No!” he snapped, leaping at his brother and forcefully dragging him away.  Brown eyes looked up at him hopefully.
“I want to paint!” he declared, emphasising his demand with a sticky finger jabbing at Virgil’s cheek. “Let’s paint!”
Virgil looked at his already paint-covered brother, glared up at the ceiling where his elder brothers had both willingly abandoned him to this fate, and then grinned.
If Scott wanted him to play with Gordon, he would play with Gordon.  After all, Scott was in charge and he was just doing as he was told.
“Okay,” he agreed, picking up his paints and taking them over to the kitchen floor, along with some vaguely paint-free paper.  “I’ll show you how to finger paint.”  Gordon’s ever-present devil’s grin was out in full force.
“I already know how to finger paint!” he declared, splatting his hand down in the vague vicinity of the paper, leaving another colourful mess on the floor.  “See!”
“No,” Virgil corrected him, leading him to the sink and washing the worst of the paint off of his hands as best he could.  Gordon wriggled, not unhappy with the water, but disappointed to see swirls of colour running down the drain.  “First, we need clean hands.”  He washed his own as well, using his bigger size to keep Gordon pinned in place until his hands were also acceptable.  “And dry ones, otherwise the paint will get too runny.”
The towel was accepted with poor grace, Gordon more interested in slapping wet hands on Virgil’s clothes instead.  Virgil persevered, however, and soon had Gordon sat cross legged on the floor, in front of the paper and paint, with clean, dry hands.  He sat down next to him, keeping most of the paint out of reach.
Gordon lunged for the paint in reach, dabbing his fingers in with precision until each finger (and thumb) had a different colour on, before he lurched for the paper and slammed them all down at the same time.  Virgil winced.
“That’s how babies finger paint,” he protested, looking at the hand prints rapidly forming as Gordon mixed the colours on the paper with abandon.  “I’ll show you how to do it properly.”
Gordon looked at the mess on the paper – a purple-brown concoction, for the most part – and then at his fingers.
“Clean your hands again,” Virgil told him, picking up another bit of paper.  Gordon wiped his hands vigorously on his clothes – freshly applied, the paint transferred readily to the fabric.  “Properly, Gordon.  Or no more painting.”  The blond menace pouted, but dutifully scrambled onto the stool to reach the sink again.
As the water gushed out of the taps, Virgil placed his clean paper over the mess Gordon had made, pressing down on it carefully and holding it there until he was satisfied the paint had stained it before pulling it away.
The water was still running.
“Gordon,” he said, and with a giggle the boy finally shut off the tap and hurriedly wiped his hands on the towel again before skidding back to his side on his knees.  “Look.”  He carefully dipped a single finger in the green, before dabbing towards the top of the area.  “Leaves!” Gordon’s eyes brightened, and he jabbed a finger in the blue before making swirls at the bottom of the paper.
“Water!” he said.  “Look.”  A wonky circle took up a hand’s-width of the paper, before a single skinny finger trailed a blue line from it all the way to the edge of the paper, and onto the floor. “A lake with a river!”
Virgil grinned.
“You do the water, I’ll do the plants,” he said, and Gordon nodded enthusiastically.  “Look, if you use darker and lighter colours, it looks better.”  Finding a dark green and a yellow paint, he dabbed at his green splotches.  Gordon watched with wide eyes before smearing a finger with the darker blue and slapping it in the middle of his lake.
“It’s deeper in the middle!” he declared.  “Where the fish swim.”
“And brighter at the top, where it sees the sun,” Virgil added, using his yellow to give little highlights to the top of each leaf.  Gordon frowned, looking at the paint colours, before taking a little bit of blue and adding some white to mix it together for a pale blue.  Virgil added a little more, for better contrast, even though his interference was met with blue paint on his shirt as Gordon pouted, and once the blond was satisfied he added the lighter colour to one edge of his lake.
Then he smeared yellow on his finger and added in small blobs with spikes to both the lake and the river.
“Lots of fish!” he said proudly, before using the orange unbidden to give the spikey blobs darker patches, and then the white for whiter patches “on top!”
Virgil laughed and let him be as he focused on his own leaves, adding in a bright red caterpillar to offset all the greens and blues.  Gordon also stole some red for more fish, and green for a frog, and by the time a car could be heard in the driveway, their woodland lake was full of creatures.
At the sound of the car, Gordon froze and looked around, as did Virgil.
The kitchen was a mess, large parts of the floor covered in paint.  It was going to take a lot to clean, and Mom and Dad would not be happy. A lithe, paint-covered hand, found the plastic palette of paint and with a Cheshire cat grin, Gordon flipped it face down.
“Whoops,” he said, gleefully.  Virgil stared at him in horror, knowing that was one more thing that would upset their parents, before remembering why he’d ended up painting with Gordon, of all the messy creatures.
He grinned back at Gordon and gestured up the stairs.  Brown eyes met brown eyes, and a matching look of mischief came over his own face.
“Not our fault,” he whispered.  A devious trouble maker already, it didn’t take Gordon long to catch on.
“Scott!” he giggled quietly, and as voices sounded outside the house, Mom and Dad getting out of the car, they crept upstairs and into their bedroom.  Paint-covered hands muffled giggles as they sat on the floor and waited.
They didn’t have to wait long.
“SCOTT CARPENTER TRACY!” Dad’s voice boomed out.  “GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!”  There was a sudden scuffling from the room next door, sounding suspiciously like a chair falling over, before the door opened.
“What is it, Dad?” Scott called.
“I said GET DOWN HERE!” Dad repeated, and Virgil and Gordon had to hold their breath not to be overheard as their eldest brother tramped down the stairs loudly – before the noise stopped suddenly.
“What-” Scott started, only to be cut off.
“Your mother and I were gone two hours, Scott.  You promised you didn’t need the neighbours to watch you, so why is the house covered in paint?”
“Virgil was the one painting!” Scott protested.  “It’s got nothing to do with me!”
“Not just Virgil, judging by the amount of blue and yellow on the kitchen floor,” Mom interjected.  “You were supposed to keep an eye on your brothers, Scott, not hide from them in your room.”
“I was doing my homework!” Scott protested.
“The same homework you told me you didn’t have so you could definitely watch your brothers?” Mom replied, and there was silence.  Virgil and Gordon stared at each other, wide-eyed, then jumped as their bedroom door opened.
John slipped in, rolled his eyes at the pair of them, then settled on the floor by the window with his book.
“Get paint on me or the book and I will kill you,” he said firmly.  “I am not dealing with Storm Scott.”
Virgil nodded, although wondered why John would come here to escape, then turned his attention back to the altercation downstairs.
“Now, you are going to go upstairs, change into your painting clothes, and then clean this up,” Dad was saying firmly.
“But I didn’t do it!” Scott protested, loudly and furiously.
“Your responsible brothers will be helping you, don’t worry,” Mom told him.
“But why do I have to clean up their mess?” Scott demanded.
“Because this happened while you were supposed to be supervising them,” Dad said.  “If you want us to leave you without bringing in the neighbours, you need to start taking responsibility.  Now get moving – I can’t start dinner until this kitchen is spotless.”
Heavy footsteps stomped their way up the stairs, and Virgil and Gordon both flinched as their bedroom door slammed open, irate brother glowering at them through puffy red eyes.
Instantly, some of Virgil’s glee at payback for Scott abandoning him to Gordon faded.  Even Gordon seemed a little subdued.
“Sorry, Scott,” Virgil said before his brother could start shouting at them.  “I didn’t think they’d be that mad at you.”
“Have you seen the state you left it in?” Scott demanded furiously.  “I trusted you to keep Gordon busy just while I finished my homework, and then you go and do this?  Mom and Dad will never trust me again!”  The rest of Virgil’s satisfaction fled, and he looked down at his bedroom floor – and the paint that marred it.
“Sorry, Scott,” Gordon echoed, standing and giving his brother a hug, puppy dog eyes in full force. Scott glared down at him, and Gordon started to sniffle, eyes welling with water.
“Well we’re not getting dinner until it’s cleaned up,” John sighed, slotting a bookmark into his book and laying it on the windowsill.  “Yell later, clean now.  I’ll help.” So much for not dealing with Storm Scott, Virgil thought.
Scott snapped from wavering at Gordon’s tears, and shooting death glares at Virgil, to fix John with a surprised look.
“You are my favourite brother,” he said, whole-heartedly.  “Why did Mom and Dad ever give me more?”
That stung, a little, but then Scott ruffled Gordon’s hair, shook his head at Virgil with a small smile, and headed out the door with the blond boy still attached.
Hoping that meant Scott wasn’t too mad, after all, Virgil followed, finding a smile of his own as Scott realised Gordon was still covered in paint… which meant his own clothes were now covered in paint.
20 notes · View notes
codewordpumpkin · 4 years
Text
A Very Denny Christmas
Merry Christmas, @heart4hawkeye​ !! I’m so sorry I couldn’t post this sooner! I don’t even know if you’ve ever watched Boston Legal before, but hopefully, you’ll enjoy this little fic nonetheless!!
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“Really, Reddington? Your Blacklister couldn’t wait until after the holidays? It’s Christmas Eve, for god’s sake.”
“I’m sorry, Donald, did you have something better planned? Well, don’t pout or shout just yet. If you’ve been a particularly good boy this year, you may just find a gift from Santa waiting for you at home… or on your doorstep if you’d prefer the illusion of security—I know the FBI loves that.”
Cooper’s brows furrowed as his temples began to throb. “Reddington.”
Red was adept at picking his battles.
“Denny Crane,” he said, as if the name alone was explanation enough.
“The CEO of Flamingo Corp.?” Elizabeth asked.
“The one and only.”
“I still don’t get how he thought that’d be a good name for an arms company,” Aram said from his spot behind his computer.
“Don’t try to get into the head of Denny Crane—it’ll only make yours ache.”
Hands on his hips, Ressler asked, “Is he the next person on the Blacklist?”
“Heavens, no! Denny is a dear associate of mine, and he is to remain untouched by you ham-fisted lot.”
“Get on with it, Red.”
“Relax, Harold. I was, as you so eloquently put it, getting there.” Brushing imaginary lint off his pristine vest, the infuriating man smiled blandly, reveling in the glares burning holes in his suit as he took his sweet time to elaborate. “The man has a memory of a goldfish, hence why he carries around a voice recorder everywhere he goes. That is the key to our next Blacklister.”
“Are you going to tell us who this Blacklister is?”
“All in due time, Samar. All in due time.”
“How are we going to get our hands on this recorder?”
“You mean, your hands. Really, Elizabeth, modesty doesn’t become you.” Before she could snap a retort, he continued, “Denny is hosting a Christmas party this evening. I am invited, as is my plus one, and I have no doubt we’ll have at least one server slipping on banana peels tonight.”
“All right, then,” Cooper exhaled slowly, “brief Agent Keen on her cover, and—”
“Actually, Harold, I was thinking Agent Navabi should accompany me this time.”
That caught everyone’s attention.
“And why is that?”
“Ah, well, I know how much Elizabeth loathes dressing up for these things, so I thought, why not give her a little break—”
“I’ll take a break once we get this over with, Reddington,” Liz said, trying to will down the flush spreading across her cheeks. She hoped the tinge of hurt in her voice had gone undetected.
Cooper turned to Red, an expectant look on his weary face.
“Well, then,” he nodded, clearly displeased, “you’ll need a dress.”
***
“Raymond!”
“Denny!”
Elizabeth watched with mild amusement as the two men exchanged an enthusiastic bear hug. With sparkling eyes and stretched cheeks, they greeted each other rather boisterously, falling into a chatter as if they had never been apart. She was certain they were speaking English, but for the life of her, couldn’t understand what in the world they were actually saying.
“Well, well, well, well, well, and who might this goddess be?”
The stout, rosy-faced man openly leered at her, scrutinizing her from the toes of her strappy heels to the top of her styled head, then dipping back down to gaze at her modest curves. She, too, took the time to scan his appearance, glancing at his expensive tux only fleetingly before zeroing in on the ridiculous headband that held a conspicuously tall sprig of mistletoe.
“Ah,” Red acted as though he had forgotten her very existence, “Denny, meet Elizabeth. Elizabeth, meet Denny.”
Smiling politely, she reached out her hand—which Denny immediately grasped, stamping a kiss just beneath her knuckles. “I’m sure it’s a pleasure to meet me, Lizzie,” he said so smoothly that, for a second, she thought she had misheard him. She also had to apply considerable force to tug her hand out of his stubborn grip. “Denny Crane.”
She wasn’t sure whether Red’s twitch was a result of Crane calling her Lizzie, or if it was because of his overly friendly touch. Either way, his reaction didn’t bother her. In fact, she could admit to herself, she rather liked it.
“Of course,” she finally responded.
Turning to Red, he said in a stage whisper, “You sly dog, still got the touch, eh? But, say… isn’t she a bit old for you? What say I take—”
“Keep your pants where they are, Denny,” Red cut him off, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. “Did I mention Elizabeth’s a vegan?”
She blinked.
Denny blinked.
“What the hell is that?” his associate asked, genuinely confused. “Listen, there aren’t many kinks I don’t know about, but kids today—”
“It means, she not only doesn’t eat meat,” he continued to lie, “she doesn’t consume any animal products at all.”
Gasping, Denny snapped, “Now why the hell would you do that? What, is she anti-gun, too?”
“Careful, Denny,” he warned gravely, “just the word g-u-n is enough to get her shaking in her heels. Point a water-gun in her face, and she’ll scream bloody murder.”
Where the hell was he going with this?
“A veggie and a communist! Where’d you pick this one up, Red? Los Angeles?” Before Red could respond, he waved a dismissive hand. “Well, whatever. You must keep her around for a reason…” He waggled his brows, then winked as if she wasn’t right there. Straightening his bow, he offered her his hand. “Care for a dance, sweetheart? I’ll show you just how well my body moves… Denny Crane.”
“Actually—”
“Sure,” she shot Red a meaningful look, hoping he understood what she was trying to convey, “I’d love to.”
Just before they left for the dance floor, Denny again stage-whispered, “There’s a g-u-n in my pants I’d bet my life she—”
“Denny—”
By then, the egotistical, borderline-predator flirt was too far away for him to strangle. Or gut. Or maim.
Trying not to let Raymond’s withering glare distract her from her task, she brought one of her hands up to rest on Denny’s puffed chest. “So, how did you meet Raymond?” she casually asked, doing her best to maintain a respectable distance between them—which was easier said than done, considering he was doing his best to plaster their bodies together. On the bright side, that meant he was too preoccupied to notice her wandering fingers.
“Why talk about that fat cat when we can talk about Denny Crane? Go ahead, ask me anything.” He continued before she could. “Why, yes, I’m very giving in bed. I’ll go down—”
“To the bar,” Red said, appearing from out of nowhere just as Denny was about to grope her ass. “There was a leggy blonde looking for you.”
“Leggy, you say? How many legs are we talking here? You know, my father once said that the best sex—”
“She won’t be waiting all night, Denny. I’d run as fast as I can if I were you.”
Was she imagining the threat laced in his words?
“We’ll have to continue this later, Lizzie.” Dropping her like a hot potato, he licked his lips and turned to dash. Looking over his shoulder, he bid, “Keep her warm for me, Ray.”  
Luckily for him, he was surprisingly fast.
“I got the recorder,” she quietly confirmed to Red, assuming that was the reason he had interrupted her dance with Denny. “I’ll just pass it to Ressler or Samar—”
“The song isn’t over yet, Lizzie,” he said, reclaiming his nickname for her with a glint of… something in his eyes, his voice.
With one hand in hers and the other low on her back, he encouraged her to fall into step with him, their movements easy and natural. But even when the song ended and changed, they didn’t stop, instead slowing further and sinking into the lulling rhythm of the music.
She wasn’t aware of when or how it had happened, but she belatedly realized just how close their faces were. A mere inch forward would allow her to graze her nose against his smooth skin, inhale the clean, unique scent of him. A little closer, and she would be able to taste the champagne on his lips. With a gentle pressure, a slight gasp, she could so easily—
They jumped apart at the sound of a loud crash.
It didn’t take long for them to discern where the commotion was coming from, as there was already a loose crowd forming near the bar—and at the very center of it was none other than Denny Crane.
He was standing across from a scowling man and a tall blonde woman…
Raymond and Elizabeth both had a feeling they knew what had started this mess.
“I didn’t proposition her. I just asked her to have sex with me,” Denny announced, as if that was a perfectly acceptable thing to say.
The man’s face flushed with a worrisome shade of crimson, and to everyone’s horror, revealed that he was seriously armed. Before he could do anything with it, however, a loud bang shocked everyone still.
On his previously unblemished pants, right in the middle of his thigh, was a bright blob of yellow… paint?
“Oops. Wrong one.” Bending down, Denny retrieved a small gun that had been strapped to his ankle. “Denny Crane doesn’t get shot at,” he yelled, aiming at the man’s other thigh and pulling the trigger without hesitation. “Denny Crane shoots!”
Chaos commenced as the two literally engaged in a gun fight. Bullets whizzed, screams erupted, glass shattered. People ran this way and that, tripping over dresses, abandoning stilettos, and doing their best to escape with their flesh in tact.
“I was a sniper in the Navy!… Or was I a helicopter pilot?” Now with a gun in each hand, Denny shot bullet after bullet, shouting as he ducked and spun. “I have an erection. Lock and load, baby! Denny Crane!”
“That’s our cue to leave,” Red said in her ear, practically dragging her by the elbow. On their way out, he released her briefly to stop Ressler from getting involved. Something on the ground caught her eye, and she used the few seconds she had to take it, attempting not to get trampled on in the process. “Lizzie. Now.”
This time, they didn’t stop walking until they were safely encased in the back of his car, Dembe driving them out into the night.
Keeping her stolen object carefully hidden, she turned to Red and smirked. “Well, that was interesting.”
“That’s one way of saying it,” he said, chuckling.
He leaned back, settling into the seat and closing his eyes. Knowing an opportunity when she saw one, she gripped the accessory from beside her hip and placed it on his head, refusing to move away as he jerked and snapped his eyes back open.
She didn’t give him a chance to question her.
She didn’t give herself the chance.
Not wanting to waste another second, she pressed her mouth to his.
The kiss was chaste, but it lingered—long enough for her to notice just how soft his lips were. And although she had always been more of a wine girl, she reveled in the fact that she really could taste the remnants of champagne, the crisp flavor blending with subtle, intoxicating notes that could only be described as him.
Finally, after seconds or minutes—time was irrelevant to her at that moment—she pulled back, still close enough to feel his radiating heat and sense his racing pulse. Just as his thumb had stroked the small of her back, she used hers to brush his lips, his jaw, before reaching up to flick the mistletoe hanging above them.
“Merry Christmas, Red,” she said, just as softly as her smile.
Pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, slowly gathering his wits, he tentatively reached for her hand and tangled their fingers together. “Merry Christmas, Lizzie.”
Neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride, but both knew that they didn’t need to.
Words could wait.
For now, they had each other.
Finally.
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maggiemaybe160 · 5 years
Text
The Sound of Longing
Fic written for @ficfacers 2019. My winning bid was from AnonGrimm. I had so much fun writing this fic. Full 5 chapter fic on my Ao3 (Rated Mature)
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Look, I’ll be honest. The house I’m looking at doesn’t have a monster. It doesn’t have a victim, ghostie, or creepy crawly. It’s just a house that’s empty. The owner hasn’t come home yet. If he has any sort of life on a Saturday, he won’t be coming home tonight at all. I don’t know why Sam is having me waste my breath on this case. There’s nothing in this town. He’s still strung out from our last two weeks.
Douche with wings zapped us into the corporate life with no memories. We spent two weeks living the lives of civilians with desk jobs. He’s itching to prove that it will never happen again and that he doesn’t want that snoozefest of a life. He’s too busy trying to prove that he chooses hunting to see that there is nothing here to hunt.
I know I’m happier staking out, cleaning rifles, loading salt rounds, and ganking evil sons-of-bitches, but it felt like a vacation. It felt like a rest from Hell, a moment to breathe after torturing Alistair.
Sam wants to wash it off and pretend it didn’t happen. He wants to forget the two friends he lost while he was trapped in the mind of an IT pencil-pusher. I could do without the memories of that poor kid in the bathroom. He didn’t deserve to go out just because Zachariah chose to stir up our brains. We could have had that ghost before… What’s his name? Ian? Ian died. I didn’t know him. Sam did. I called him “pencil-neck” and Sam didn’t take it well.
“He had a name.”
His name was Ian. He was Sam’s friend, but we’re still not allowed to have friends. Not ones with nine to fives and no supernatural protection.
I am glad to be back, though. Back to eating bacon cheeseburgers and drinking beer. Back to long hours driving and highlighting newspapers. Back to normal, health-insurance and pay free. I’m back to staring at a boring house and sitting in the car just so I can think.
I keep running over why I said yes to torturing someone, no matter how evil he is. I had waited thirty years of what I thought was going to be eternity to start torturing anyone. I didn’t want to go back to it the second I was back topside. I didn’t want to look into his ugly face and hear his slimy voice. I know why I said yes, though. He asked me to.
Mister blue-eyes-and-trench-coat showed up and asked me to do him one little favor and there I was like a lost dog. Any other angel and I know I would have said no. If Zach had asked, I might’ve even told him where to stick it. Junkless did ask, and I told him no. I made the mistake of asking to talk to Cas alone. Talk to the only being that could make my heart run wild and make him convince me to help him with those eyes and that voice. No, it had to be Castiel. It had to be him.
Something keeps coming up with him. Uriel and Cas have both said that Cas is getting too close to me and that he likes me. The words are a fist around my heart. I don’t know why I care. Anna already told me that angels can’t fall in love. Not that that’s what I’m thinking about because it’s not.
Love. I can repeat the word over and over and I’ve always just seen a blank screen. I guess that’s not true anymore, but who knows what that means? I’m not allowed to fall in love. I’m a solider for Earth, Hell, and now Heaven. I’m a bullet-shield if anything and unworthy of that kind of feeling. It’s not like I hear that word and think about my pounding heart and sparking lights. It doesn’t mean anything if I hear that word and feel my stomach twist because I think about him. He doesn’t think about me. Not as anything more than some rescue dog from Hell anyway.
What does it mean he likes me? What the fuck does that mean? It can’t mean anything. I want it to mean something. I want it to mean anything and everything.
“Hello, Dean.”
I jump out of my skin and look over to the passenger seat of my previously empty car. “Don’t do that!” Always. Whenever I have a moment to just think, here he is, sitting next to me with his blue eyes narrowed like he can read my thoughts. “Why are you here?”
“I always come when you call,” he says, the gravel in his voice raking over me.
“False alarm. I didn’t call.” There’s no point in trying to look back at the most ordinary house. Cas’ eyes are pools to drown in. I can’t breathe.
“I can hear longing, Dean.”
What the fuck? What kind of thing is that to say? I don’t long for things. Especially not people. Or angels. I don’t long for him. I don’t long to run my hand down the side of his face or feel his lips on mine. I do not long for his arms around me. I don’t long to be shoved against a wall by him, our noses touching, eyes locked. I definitely don’t long for Castiel.
“Excuse me? You’ve got the wrong number, pal.”
“What number? I didn’t call you.” Cas shifts, his eyes cast down to my lips before finding my eyes again. “It hasn’t stopped, though. I don’t understand.”
I force myself to look away and find myself staring at the boring house again. This is the most pointless stakeout in the history of our hunting career. I could be at a bar drinking and flirting with anyone who walks by. Instead, I’m biting my tongue and contemplating how badly I want him.
“What are you doing here?” Cas asks, his face turning toward the same building that I’ve been watching.
“Humoring Sam.”
He doesn’t say anything else. I should’ve said something to keep him talking. I could have told a joke that would have gone over his head just so that he would tell me that he doesn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, Dean.” I wasn’t expecting that. I look back over at him and watch his head turn slowly. His eyes are filled with his apology. “I’m sorry about what happened with Alistair. I should have protected you from Heaven’s orders. I should never have let you walk into that room.”
“Don’t like what came out?” I don’t mean to joke or throw my words back in his face, but I am scared of the answer. His apologies could be his goodbye, and I’m not ready for that.
“That will never happen.” My heart lodges itself in my throat. “I tried to redeem myself for that by protecting you from Zachariah, but I was detained.”
“You were detained?” The way he talks drives me insane. He’s poetic and formal for no reason.
“Yes.”
When he doesn’t say more, I feel like it’s my turn. I’m supposed to accept and forgive him. I’m supposed to acknowledge that he’s sorry so we can both move on.
“Yeah, okay.”
“I have to apologize for my actions after you and Anna…” Can angels blush? Is that what’s happening? “I was jealous. That was one of the reasons I was kept from you. They accused me of getting too close to my charge. I can’t deny that accusation, but jealousy isn’t something that is allowed in Heaven. I could have protected you more effectively if I hadn’t let myself feel so strongly.”
Jealous? Jealous of Anna. Jealous of Anna when she was a human and asked me for her last night as a human. Jealous of the kiss in the barn before she powered up. Castiel was jealous? Jealous of me or her? Please be jealous of her.
“What do you mean, jealous?”
“It’s not of import. I… I should go.” He can’t leave now. Not after he opened that up.
“Cas,” I hear myself begging as I grab onto his arm. I can’t let him leave. Not now. “Talk to me.”
Cas sighs and I’m sure I’m wrong. I’m wrong in thinking he was jealous of her. Why would he want me? Now my hand is on his arm and I can’t take it away. If he can hear longing, he can probably feel it through his arm by now too. I shouldn’t have stopped him. I could have gone my whole life without this conversation.
“Uriel wasn’t lying to you when he told you of my affections.”
I want to scream. I want to ask him to clarify. I want to hear him say it. I need to hear him say it. His affections . What? Can you have a heart attack from thinking someone may have a crush on you? I think I’m having a stroke.
“I thought angels couldn’t fall in love.” Love. He never said he loved me. He said he has affections . Whatever that means. Now I’ve ruined it. I’ve lost all of my chances by using the world’s dumbest word.
“They can’t.” Fuck. “At least, I thought we couldn’t.”
I remember my hand on Cas’ arm and rip it away. He can’t mean it. He has to mean it. “I’m not allowed to fall in love. I’m just a soldier.” I repeat the words that I’d heard and told myself repeatedly through the years. I’m just a soldier. I’m disposable. I’m not meant for love or ‘ affections ’.
“That does apply to both of us.” Cas reaches out and takes my hand back. I should keep it from him, but his touch is all that I can think about.
“I guess it can’t be love then.” I lose the fight of not staring at his lips.
“I don’t think it matters what we call it.”
Cas drops my hand to cup my face instead, leaning in and pressing his lips to mine. It’s warm and soft and now I think I’m definitely having a heart attack. My heart slams in my chest as if it’s trying to escape as Cas’ mouth opens mine. I feel his fingers dragging through my hair as I pull him against me. His kisses swallow me whole.
@destielhoneybee @thekingofselfloathing @ain-t-bovvered @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @adventurous-blob @anarchiana @blueeyesandpie @samatedeansbroccoli @skittles-rainbow-cat @lily-t2019 @fandom-is-my-middle-name @soloarcana @destiel-honeypie @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @spn-bad-bitch @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @castibella-shipper-of-the-lord @telefunkies @aestheticallydyke @righteouscomeuppancejogstheliver @deanwinchesterswitch @royalrowena
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pika-ace · 6 years
Text
Digital Rebirth (BMC Digimon AU)
One-shot. After a hard battle, Jeremy is left heartbroken from the tragic casualty of his Digimon partner. But when a mysterious egg appears shortly after Circuitmon’s death, Jeremy and Michael learn that Digimon never really die.
Kind of a sequel to this last one-shot by @janethepegasus (references for Digimon appearances here and here)
“Circuitmon! Where are you?!” 
“Retromon! Answer me, dude!” Jeremy and Michael’s voices were hoarse as they staggered through the smoke-filled street. The remnants of the battle still lingered; Rich and Roostdramon were making sure there were no more enemies, leaving Jeremy and Michael to look for their fallen Digimon. 
The two of them had barely managed to win the battle, but their Digivices had been silent and there was no sign of their Digital pals. Finally, they turned a corner onto another street, where two small figures lay on the asphalt, one red and one blue. 
“Circuitmon!” 
“Retromon!” The boys knelt by their respective Digimon, carefully scooping them into their arms. 
“Hey, Retromon, talk to me, bud!” Michael called gently. The Digimon was unresponsive, but seemed to be breathing; he was probably just exhausted. 
“Circuitmon?!” Michael’s head shot up at Jeremy’s cry. His eyes widened; Circuitmon…was disappearing. His body was slowly dissolving away into pixels, floating into the sky like snowflakes. 
“W-What’s going on?!” Jeremy cried. “Circuitmon, what’s wrong?!” 
“I’m sorry, Jeremy…” The Digimon said weakly. “I…used up all of my energy; I…no longer have the energy to…stay here.” Jeremy’s eyes widened in realization while Michael sucked in a breath. 
“No…” Jeremy whimpered, holding him tighter. “No no no, you can’t, Circuitmon!” He hugged him close, already no longer feeling the bottom half of the Digimon’s body. “You can’t die, Circuitmon, you can’t! You’re one of my best friends!” 
“I…feel the same…Jeremy,” Circuitmon whispered. “Don’t worry…it will be alright…” Jeremy pulled away as Circuitmon was almost completely gone. “Goodbye…Jeremy…” 
“Circuitmon…!” The Digimon completely dissolved, the Digivice’s screen becoming static. “CIRCUITMON!” 
Jeremy curled in on himself and burst into sobs, the pixels disappearing. Michael unconsciously tightened his hold on Retromon, glancing down to make sure he wasn’t disappearing either. Jeremy hugged himself as his wails and cries echoed around them, making Michael’s eyes heat up as well. His vision started to blur with his own tears when he noticed a soft glow coming from Jeremy’s Digivice. 
Jeremy noticed it to, as he lifted his head as a small spotlight came from the static screen. Numbers and code appeared in the light, spinning around one another to slowly form a shape. 
A few moments later, the code seemed to solidify, and an egg hovered in the light of the Digivice. The egg was about half a foot tall and had a dark blue base while lines of light blue streaked around it. 
Jeremy wiped his eyes and slowly reached towards the egg, taking it out of the light while Michael limped over to him, Retromon still in his arms. Jeremy stared at the egg, glancing down at his Digivice, finding that the static had stopped, leaving the screen black. 
Despite the confusion, Jeremy couldn’t help but hug the egg close, and Michael could understand why. It had the same colors as Circuitmon.
The next morning, Michael stood outside Jeremy’s room and took a deep breath. He glanced at Retromon by his side and gently knocked on the door.
“Jeremy?” He called. “It’s uh, it’s Michael and Retromon; can we come in?” There wasn’t an answer; maybe he was asleep. Jeremy hadn’t come to school that day, and according to Mr. Heere, hadn’t left his room, leaving both Michael and Retromon worried. 
Michael quietly opened the door and the duo peeked inside to see that sure enough, Jeremy was curled up on his bed, sound asleep. Michael felt a touch of relief that Jeremy was actually asleep and not staying awake due to grief. If he was, Michael wouldn’t blame him. After what had happened, Michael wouldn’t blame him. 
Michael and Retromon entered and stood over Jeremy, seeing that he was hugging the large blue egg to his chest as he lay on his side. 
Michael smiled sadly at the sight, as well as the drying wet spots on his cheeks. “Hey, Jere,” He gently shook his shoulder. 
Jeremy stirred and his eyes cracked open, “Michael?” He mumbled. 
“Yeah, it’s me; Retromon too,” Michael said softly. “How you doing, bud?” 
Jeremy avoided his eyes, not moving, “Okay,” He said halfheartedly. 
Retromon stepped closer and looked at the egg, “Michael told me about the weird egg from your Digivice,” He said. 
That seemed to catch Jeremy’s attention, “Do you know what it is?” 
“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Retromon said. “It’s a Digital egg, a Digiegg; it’s made exactly how we Digimon are made.” 
Jeremy slowly sat up, still holding the egg close. “What does that mean?” 
Retromon shrugged with a smirk, “Eh, you’ll see.”
“Dude, c’mon,” Michael said exasperated. 
“What? Look, it’s hatching right now.” Retromon pointed. Sure enough, cracks were starting to appear in the shell. Jeremy jumped and stood up as the egg shook slightly. The top half of the egg popped off and a little blob emerged. 
“Whoa!” Jeremy dropped the egg shell as the blob jumped right out of the egg and into Jeremy’s hand, two little eyes looking up at him. The little guy fit almost perfectly in Jeremy’s palm. It was dark blue on the bottom half while the top half seemed to be like a glass dome where two little eyes could be seen within. Two little light blue antennae poked out about where a nose would probably be, and Jeremy couldn’t help but notice that the color scheme was almost exactly like Circuitmon’s. 
The Digimon smiled up at him happily, “Pix! Pix pix!” It chirped, bouncing in Jeremy’s hand, making the teen cup his hands to keep the tiny creature from falling.
“Dude…is that a baby Digimon?” Michael asked. “Sure is; that little guy is Pixmon,” Retromon answered with a smirk. “Circuitmon’s first form.” 
Jeremy abruptly looked up at Retromon, his eyes wide with hope, “So…this is…” 
“Yep, that’s Circuitmon; he just got reborn,” Retromon said. 
“But…But how?” Michael asked, running his hands through his hair in disbelief. “It’s a failsafe we Digimon have,” Retromon explained. “If we take too much damage causing us to be deleted, our Digivice has multiple backup packets of our initial data, allowing us to be reborn as our smallest and weakest form.” 
“No way…” Michael breathed. “That’s…that’s such a relief.” 
Jeremy held Pixmon close to his chest, gently stroking the small Digimon, “He’s okay…” He whispered. “I didn’t lose him…he’s okay…” 
Michael smiled as Jeremy’s eyes were bright with life once again. Pixmon cooed and nuzzled up against Jeremy, relishing the warmth he brought. Maybe things really were going to be alright.
That night, Jeremy and Michael decided on ordering pizza, as Jeremy’s dad wasn’t going to be home until late. The two boys and their Digimon sat on the couch, the TV blaring in front of them as they ate pizza, Jeremy feeding smaller chunks to Pixmon who was sitting on his knee. 
Once they were done and Jeremy and Michael went to throw the empty boxes, Pixmon jumped up to the table, where he promptly froze, eyes wide. 
“Pixmon?” Jeremy asked worriedly. 
“Pix pix pix!” The Digimon said, and a bright light surrounded it. Jeremy and Michael covered their eyes, Jeremy’s Digivice vibrating. The light faded and a new Digimon stood in Pixmon’s place. 
The creature was about the size of a small cat, walking on all fours. It was now oval shaped, and the two horns on its face had changed to small horn-like ears while a little nose appeared in its proper place along with a little tail. The creatures eyes were also no longer within the dome and looked up at Jeremy with a smile. 
“You Digivolved,” Jeremy stated dumbly.
“I did,” The Digimon said, its tail wagging slightly as it rested its front paws on Jeremy’s arm. “I’m Nanomon, Circuitmon’s Training form.” 
“Nanomon,” Jeremy repeated, picking up the still small Digimon and cradling it. They were almost there…Circuitmon was almost back.
Nanomon remained the same throughout the rest of the night and through the next morning. It wasn’t until after lunch when Nanomon suddenly froze and was covered by a bright light. Jeremy and Michael shot to their feet as Jeremy’s Digivice began to vibrate and glow.  
“Nanomon, Digivolve to…Circuitmon!” The light faded and Circuitmon stood in Nanomon’s place as good as new. 
Circuitmon looked himself over in satisfaction and turned to his human, “I’ve successfully returned to my-” He was cut off as Jeremy fell to his knees and scooped the small Digimon into a tight hug.
“Circuitmon…” Jeremy whispered, tears coming to his eyes. “You’re back…thank goodness.” 
“I am,” Circuitmon said, confusion on his face. “I assumed Retromon had explained my situation to you.” He received a nod from the other Digimon.
“I missed you,” Jeremy said softly. “I missed you so much.” 
Circuitmon blinked, “You…missed me?” 
Jeremy nodded silently, tears slowly dripping from his closed eyes. “I thought you were dead, I thought I’d lost you!” He cried, his shoulders shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me that you can get reborn?!” 
Circuitmon winced as Jeremy’s hold on him seemed to be getting tighter. “I apologize Jeremy, but the process of rebirth is very rare so I didn’t think there was any need to tell you.” 
“Well, you should’ve!” Jeremy exclaimed, pulling away for a bit to look at Circuitmon with teary eyes. “I watched you die, I actually thought you were gone! I was…” Jeremy trailed off and lowered his head. “I was so scared…” 
Circuitmon’s eyes softened and guilt glinted in them, “I…I’m sorry Jeremy,” He said softly. “I didn’t realize this would cause you so much distress; if I had, I would have told you sooner. I’m truly sorry.” 
Jeremy pulled the Digimon back into a tight hug, “At least you’re back now,” He said softly. “And don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“That is a very vague request, Jeremy,” Circuitmon said. “But…I will try.” He slowly raised his paws to return the hug, and in response, Jeremy hugged him all the tighter. “Jeremy, you’re squishing me,” Circuitmon said through a pained noise. 
“I know, I feel it,” Jeremy said through a wince. 
“Then why aren’t you letting go?” Circuitmon asked. 
“Cause it means you’re back,” Jeremy said, his voice cracking. “I can feel your pain again, it means you’re really back.” 
“Jeremy…” Circuitmon said softly. The Digimon continued to hug his human partner while Michael and Retromon watched in the back with relieved smiles. Things were back to normal.
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dontshootmespence · 6 years
Text
Through the Lens
Part 5
Honestly, you weren’t sure what to think, but JJ was in a panic. Though there was next to no one in the restaurant, her eyes were darting all over the place, suspicious of everyone that walked in. “JJ, breathe. We can’t do anything about it.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I just…” Her beautiful blue eyes started brimming with tears. “I’ve had relationships ruined by the media before.”
It wasn’t going to be easy sure, but you wanted to be with JJ. “JJ, I want you, okay? We’ll get through this.” Standing up, you moved to her side of the table and wrapped your arms around her, kissing her cheek in a pitiful effort to get her to smile. “I’m not saying this is gonna be easy. I’ve never been followed like that, but you’re worth it.”
As the waitress approached the table, JJ leaned her head against yours. Your bad attempt at getting her to smile had worked, at least for right now, so you ordered your meals and a couple of drinks. “Well, considering we might have a sea of paparazzi outside, maybe we can just stay in tonight. Go to our room after dinner?” There was a whole load of things you could imagine doing that didn’t involve going outside at all.
“I think I could do that,” she laughed. Your drinks came and you downed them quickly, eventually asking for another before your meals finally arrived. It was one of the nicest restaurants in the state, so the food was delicious, although it wasn’t Rossi’s place.
“We need to go back to Barbetta’s one of these days,” you said. It was going to be great to get away and have a break after the chaos that was Fashion Week, but NYC was your home, and it was JJ’s too, no matter how much you both traveled; it was where your hearts lay. “I miss the charmer.”
JJ laughed the first genuine laugh since she saw the headline exposing your relationship. “Rossi definitely is a charmer.” While you ate your meals, you fell into a slightly heavy silence. You were trying to stay on the positive side for JJ’s sake, but the idea of being followed around and photographer all the time was not something you were looking forward to. “I need to warn you, Y/N…my past relationships have imploded because of the complete lack of privacy, especially when the relationship was just starting out.” Like it was with you was what she really wanted to say.
You pushed your plate out of the way and reached your hands across the table – the ones that had captured her effortless beauty behind the lens just weeks earlier. “Look, I don’t know what we’re going to go up against, but I’m willing to try and work through it…for you.”
“What did I do to deserve you?” She asked.
Shrugging, you leaned back and asked for some chocolate mousse to go. “Nothing. I just kind of like you a lot. Besides obviously being beautiful, there’s a side to you others haven’t gotten to see.”
“The last…my ex-boyfriend left as soon as we were outed, and we had been dating for nearly six months under the radar. And in these past few weeks, I’ve gotten to like you more than I ever liked him…I don’t wanna lose you.”’
After your takeaway dessert came to the table and you paid the bill, JJ reached for your hand and leaned into you, clutching onto you in a way she never had before. “I love what I do,” she said suddenly as you pulled the key out of your pocket. “But there are times I think about giving it all up because of things like this.”
“I can’t even imagine,” you replied, striding into the room and letting the door float closed behind you, shutting out the outside world and whatever bullshit was going to greet you when you walked out of this hotel. “But let’s not think about that, because we have a lovely extended weekend ahead of us that’s just about us and getting to know each other more.”
“Biblically or otherwise?” She giggled.
Maybe it was because she was so distraught by this whole situation, but you strode up to her, wrapped your hands around her waist and pressed a kiss to her nose. “How about a little bit of both?”
She tried smiling, but this was obviously hitting her harder than she was letting on because her lip started to quiver as she attempted to keep from crying. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
JJ nodded, her eyes heavy with sleep. “Let’s get changed first and then, yea…”
As you pulled out a pair of orange, pink and white flannel pajama pants and a baggy ass t-shirt, JJ couldn’t keep her eyes off you. “Maybe tomorrow…”
“Definitely,” you replied. Her skin was smooth and taut, kissed by the sun. Tomorrow, it would be kissed by you, but you needed to make sure she was okay first. “But first, come here.”
Sitting down on the bed, you pulled her into you, her head resting in your lap so you could run your hands through her hair while she told you about her first relationship after making it big. It was another woman by the name of Kate. Apparently, JJ had been in love with her, and Kate with JJ, but the paparazzi - the constantly being followed around and violated through the lens – broke them apart. “I could’ve married her Y/N, and this life ruined that for us.” She was also a behind the scenes industry professional like yourself. Although you weren’t up on the tabloids, her name rang a bell; you hadn’t had the chance to work with her yet.
“She was a hairdresser right? She has her own line of products?”
A soft smile crawled across JJ’s face. “Yea, I still use her stuff.” She laughed as she touched her hair. Turning over to face you, she clarified herself. “I was in love with her, but I’m not anymore. She walked away. But I just figured you should know because I want you to know where I’ve come from and why I’m so worried.”
“I get it, babe.” Although it wasn’t late, Fashion Week had drained you both and the food was also making you sleepy, so you grabbed your chocolate mousse and sat up in bed. “How about we have some of this and go to sleep? Tomorrow’s another day.”
After taking a bite, she thought it would be funny to flick a blob of mousse onto you. “That it is.”
                                                              ---
The next two days passed by in a blur of bliss and ignorance. After having a mild breakdown shortly before going to sleep that night, JJ was able to let go of whatever doubts she had to enjoy your weekend.
Hours of conversation, getting to know each other, learning about each other’s true likes and dislikes dissolved into getting to know each other in a deeper sense, her lips trailing over your skin and bringing you to the brink over and over again. In kind, you pressed heated kisses to every inch of her body, telling her silently how much you cared and leaving you both tired, quaking messes.
It all went by too quickly.
Before you knew it, it was time to check out and make your way back into the world of flashing lights and shouting cameramen that were about to pry their way into your lives.
“Ready?” She asked.
You could already hear some voices outside and your heart was pounding. “Yea.” Before leaving, you entwined your fingers in hers and gave her hand a light squeeze.
The lights almost burned they were so strong. Flash after flash blinded you as you walked forward, unable to distinguish the mess of voices coming at you. Men and women alike shoved cameras in your face, asking all kinds of questions from the most benign, like when did you start dating, to the most invasive, including how JJ was in bed. Your girlfriend did her best to shield you from the crap, and then all of a sudden you saw her lock onto one paparazzi in particular.
“Who is that?” You asked. Was he a famous paparazzo? Was there such a thing?
JJ’s eyes burned with a raging fire that took you off guard. She was normally so light and carefree, it was surprising to see her so angry. “His name is Michael Hastings, and he’s the same scumbag that outed myself and Kate.”
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sending-the-message · 6 years
Text
Bless You by griseldaraven
I was over today and all the bullshit that came with it. I barely had enough time to stuff a sandwich into my mouth between all of the phone calls, emails, and unscheduled meetings we were receiving from frantic parents for the beginning of school. It’s not like they or everyone at the main office hadn’t been through the process many times before.
I kicked off my shoes at the door, groaning as my cramped feet slipped out of the tiny heels I had been wearing all day and touched the cool wood floor.
Miles, my overweight tabby cat, sauntered up to me rubbing at the bottom of pants begging for some pets.
“Did my big boy miss me?” I cooed as I bent over and scratched behind his ears eliciting more headbutts to my open hand.
I looked around my apartment I rented by myself. It represented me well, calm and cozy with soft warm colors decorating most of the apartment. It was a perfect setting to be lazy all day which is just how I like it.
The papers I had sitting on my coffee table were scattered on the floor along with a decorative wooden ball from the center piece of the table. I gave Miles the stink eye and went over to collect the items off the floor placing them back where they were before.
“C’mon you goober.” I waved to Miles. “Let’s make us some dinner.”
I made a simple pasta, having no desire to put much effort into my dinner and gave Miles some food from the cat bag. I poured myself a glass of wine and settled into the couch. 20/20 was on and I quickly became engrossed in the story unfolding before me of rape on a college campus. Nothing like coming home to watching a few entitled assholes being thrown in jail. I flipped through some of the papers I was supposed to review, switching my attention back and forth between the two tasks for a couple of hours.
I heard a creak come from the back bedroom and looked behind to find the tail end of Miles disappearing into my bedroom.
A soft, almost distant meow floated down the hall and into the living room. Miles suddenly erupted into a slew of meows that were guttural and quick like he does when he has a ‘gift’ for me before they turned into hisses.
“Shut up!” I yelled having a hard time hearing the tv over him. He ignored my request and after a few moments I huffed, shuffling to my bedroom to see what he wanted.
“What’s your problem dude?” I leaned down and patted his back hoping to stop his distress but with no avail. He sat in the corner of my room, staring towards my bed and the window next to it. I squinted, hoping a rat or no other creepy crawler was hanging out over there. I did a sweep of the rest of the room and found nothing that could possibly elicit such a strong reaction from my usually quiet cat. I shook my head and swept Miles up, taking him back to the living room with me and forced him to watch the next episode of 20/20.
The episode had just ended, leaving me simmering in anger, when a FaceTime call from my best friend, Tara, came in. Her and her daughters face popped up onto the phone screen and their two large smiles had me smiling back.
“Hi my love.” I waved at the one year old as she tried to grab at the phone. She gave a laugh and tried for the phone again.
“How was work today?” Tara asked after laying the baby down into the crib.
“Hell. I swear parents are so worrisome for no reason. We had three parents show up today, without a scheduled appointment might I add, and proceeded to question if the handbook was done so they would know what clothes they could buy for their kids and how the enlarged budget for sports was going to be used.”
“Aw, don’t you love working with schools? Such tranquility.” We both laughed knowing how hectic the beginning of school could be.
“Did you see the news today?”
“No.” I answered honestly, taking another sip of wine.
“They said there was a big storm coming our way so all types of critters are going to try and seek shelter from it. So make sure to close your windows tonight. Can you imagine waking up to a cockroach or centipede chillin’ on your face? Nasty!”
“Ew.” I scrunched my face in disgust at that thought. “Guess I’ll have to get my fan out tonight. Hopefully I can find it.”
“It’s definitely somewhere, you hoarder. What is Miles doing back there?” She asked interrupting her line of thought and her eyes trained behind me towards my hallway. “I can see his shadow running back in forth in your room all crazy.”
“What do you mean? He’s sitting right here next to me?” I tipped the phone down showing her the blob sitting in my lap.
“Oh, it’s probably just the trees outside of your window. The wind has already picked up bad. All the shit in our backyard is everywhere.”
I shook my head in disapproval as if the wind was a child that was being scolded. I was about to ask how her day was when a loud wail sounded through the phone.
“Shit, I got to go Em is crying. I’ll talk you tomorrow. Love ya.” She puckered her lips and gave an air kiss before hanging up. I sat there for a moment, the phone sitting firmly in my hand as I stared blankly at the tv. The hairs on my neck stood up and Tara’s statement creeped into my mind.
I slowly turned my head looking over my shoulder and stared down the hall at my bedroom. There were shadows dancing on the floor looking like they were coming from inside the room. I craned my head further to get a better look and saw the shadows resembled branches and leaves swaying in the wind. I sighed in relief, shaking my head for letting Tara freak me out.
Although I loved living alone, I sometimes found my imagination running wild whenever I hear a creak or noise that is out of place.
I turned up the volume on the tv again not wanting my thoughts to wonder and switched to the local news channel. If this storm was bad enough we may not be able to make it to work tomorrow. So sad. Thank you Claire.
Todd, a local news reporter stood in the middle of a dark street in a hoodie and rain boots.
Good evening! As you can see the morning clouds and drizzle have intensified over the course of the day and are expected to bring in multiple inches of rain in the next few hours and continue throughout tomorrow morning. We are expecting road and lane closure beginning tonight and the possibility of flooding. Temperatures are predicted to fall in the next few hours with lows in the mid 40’s and highs in the low 50’s. As we continue to monitor this storm, we encourage all to use extreme caution when travelling. And remember, turn around, don’t drown. Back to you Claire.
“Did you hear that miles? Sounds like it’s gonna be a doozy tomorrow. I may not even make it to work.” I walked back to the kitchen and sat my bowl in the sink. I grabbed a cookie from the jar and stared at the bottle of wine contemplating if I should pour myself another glass.
In other news, a recent string of break ins has had the-
“I think I deserve another glass if I do say so myself.” I decided, grabbing another cookie and pouring myself another glass.
It has been the 8th reported one in the last two months. Police are urging citizens to lock all windows and doors when away from-
I stuffed the empty wine bottle into the trash and stuffed one of the cookies in my mouth when I heard a loud bang resonate from the back of the apartment. I jumped and grabbed my chest, my heart beating wildly as I tried to find the source of the noise.
A loud clap of thunder shook the apartment and a quick burst of lighting followed, causing the power to cut out and leaving the apartment shrouded in darkness. I walked to the back bathroom peering in and finding the small plant I kept on the windowsill broken on the ground. Another strike of thunder and lightning came again, giving a quick illumination of the apartment.
I cleaned up the mess as quickly as I could with the light on my phone and resumed my position back on the couch watching the storm unfold outside. An unsettling whistle noise ripped through the house as the wind began to blow harder outside making the whole setting more unsettling than usual.
I finished my glass of wine and cookie and decided to call it a night in case the weather predictions were wrong and I had to go to work anyway. Miles followed me around as I cleaned up and did my nighttime routine in the bathroom before plopping down into his own bed in the living room.
I slid into my bed, the sheets cool on my exposed skin. I settled back onto the pillow and looked out into the darkness. It looked as if most of the block lost power. Even the streetlights along the street were out making the night devoid of any light. I could hear Mile’s as he used the litter box on the other side of the apartment and listened to the beating of the rain on the window. I stared into the darkness, my imagination beginning to create shapes as I thought back to the report about little creatures trying to get into buildings to find safety.
My eyes slowly grew heavy as the shapes of animals danced behind my eyelids. Just as I was falling asleep, a small sneeze built up in my nose and escaped suddenly. I sneezed once more before swiping my nose with my finger and closing my eyes again. From the dark corner of my room, slicing through the thick silence, came a low, gravelly voice in a harsh whisper.
“Bless you.”
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Text
Being Human 4
A/n: drama ahead 
Words: 4,046
Link to chapter 3
Pairings: Gabriel x OFC
____________
Walking back into the living room Gabriel was still in a state of silence. He was still putting things together from a moment ago. His mind was in a state of panic. How the hell was he supposed to be a father? This wasn’t something that was supposed to happen. In all the years that he had been having sex with humans never once had he gotten one pregnant. Now here was Andi Winchester having his baby.
“Well look who it is.”
Gabriel’s head snapped up seeing Lucifer still sitting at the table. Lucifer stood looking at his little brother with a smile.
“So I came bearing happy news. Hey Gabriel wasn’t that what did to that Joseph guy? Haha I am doing your job.”
Gabriel groaned.
“Lucifer can you shut up? My brain is killing me as it is right now.”
Andi still had her hand locked around Gabriel’s trying to rub soothing circles into the insides of his wrists. Lucifer shrugged off Gabriel’s response.
“I came to help you. I figured you would want your wings back especially with her delicate condition. Funny Gabriel I never expected you to be this devoted to one person.”
Gabriel looked from Lucifer to Andi. He didn’t like the nervous vibes coming from his lover.
“You came here to give me my wings back?”
Lucifer nodded.
“Yes that and to help you two and the little one on the way.”
Gabriel looked even more unconvinced.
“Why do you care so much about our baby?”
“Because believe it or not you are my little brother and I love you. I won’t call you a bag of dicks like you seem to enjoy to call me. You need to be an angel no a human. Besides if angels like our dickhead brothers come around then you need to be able to protect Ms. Pretty and the kid. Now would you stop being so damn emo and let a man work his magic?”.”
Andi rolled her eyes.
“Must you call me Ms. Pretty?”
Lucifer flickered his attention to Andi.
“Princess you may want to step over there.”
Gabriel looked to Andi gently touching her cheek.
“He’s right. I can’t protect you if I’m not an archangel. I’ve somewhat enjoyed this human experience but I do need to be me again. Nothing changes between us though right?”
Andi sighed as she stood on her tiptoes pressing a kiss to Gabriel’s lips.
“No.”
Lucifer made a gagging motion.
“Awe you two are breaking my heart now lets get this over with.”
Andi gave Lucifer a cold glare before walking to the other side of the room as requested. Gabriel meanwhile, turned to face his brother knowing this was about to hurt. Lucifer held his hand up ready to snap his fingers.
“Anything you want to say?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Make it snappy.”
Lucifer snapped his fingers. Gabriel felt like someone had literally knocked the ever loving shit out of him as he hit the floor and a burning sensation started in his feet before making its way up his body.
“Gabriel?”
Andi’s voice was soft and timid from across the room as he pulled himself up.
“I’m fine sugar.”
Gabriel managed to choke out before looking at Lucifer.
“Well that was a bitch.”
Before Lucifer could respond Sam and Dean walked into the room freezing at the sight of Satan in their living room. Dean looked to Andi. He was clearly making sure that his little sister was all right.
“Sam, why is Satan in our living room? Luci we are home.”
Lucifer frowned,
“Knock it off Winchester I am not here to see either of you. So has your sissy over there told you the good news?”
Dean shook his head looking back to Andi again as she made her way to Gabriel, who was looking ill.
“No and what the hell did you do to feathers over there?”
Lucifer shrugged.
“I turned him back into feathers. Andi tell your brothers about the new exciting occurrence that will be happening.”
Andi glared at Lucifer. She was clearly not wanting to tell Sam and Dean like this. She hadn’t even began to contemplate how she would tell her brothers about her pregnancy.
“Andi?”
Sam questioned softly. When Andi didn’t respond Lucifer decided he should be the one to let the cat out of the bag.
“Her and Gabriel are having a baby. Isn’t it wonderful?!”
Lucifer clasped his hands together in another over dramatic fashion. Both Sam and Dean went dead silent and looked at Andi. Dean stepped closer to his sister.
“This baby is it human or is it going to be whatever you get when you mix humans and angels?”
“Nephilim.”
Sam replied softly. Dean looked to his brother.
“Thanks. Andi start talking to me.”
Andi took a breath.
“Nephilim. When Raphael took Gabriel’s grace not all of it was taken away. That is how I got pregnant.”
Dean rubbed a hand over his face.
“Gabriel if you were still human I would punch you in the face. Oh what the hell!”
Dean took off after Gabriel ready to knock the archangel’s lights out. Gabriel meanwhile, snapped his fingers knocking Dean on his ass.
“Don’t think so big boy. Its happened and it can’t be taken away.”
Dean looked up.
“Oh yes it can! Sam go get me some alcohol and tools from the tool box. I am going to cut that thing out of her.”
Sam didn’t move but remained looking at his sister. He honestly didn’t know what to think. Part of him was livid with Gabriel and Andi for being so careless but the other part agreed what was done was done.
“No Dean. We can’t do that.”
Dean looked stood up, clutching his shoulder.
“Sam our sister has some monster inside her. What do we kill? Monsters! Our dad told us to protect her and we haven’t done too good of a job at that.”
Gabriel was livid at this point. He reached over shoving Andi behind him.
“You aren’t touching her or my child you over grown moron. Our child isn’t some monster. Now get over it or shut the hell up.”
Dean turned walking from the room without another word. He didn’t know what to do other then walk away. His sister was going to let this kid kill her and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Walking away seemed to be the best option at the moment.
Over the following month and a half, Dean didn’t speak to anyone for the most part. He stayed in his room drinking or was gone on jobs. Andi tried her best to talk to her brother and fix whatever damage was going on but she could only take Dean turning his back on her so many times.
It was Sam that ended up holding her when she cried trying to convince her to just give Dean time to accept what was going on. Sam and Gabriel were the ones dealing with Andi’s pregnancy symptoms. It seemed like the day after she discovered that she was pregnant she had woken up with horrible morning sickness. Gabriel stayed by her side trying to heal the symptoms as they arose but sometimes even his grace couldn’t stop what his lover was going through.
One morning Andi stood in the kitchen trying to stomach the thought of drinking a glass on ginger ale. She looked up at Cas appeared. He looked in her direction with wide eyes.
“Are the rumors true Andi?”
“What rumors?”
Andi asked breathing through her nose as Cas walked in. His eyes went immediately to her stomach that was getting round.
“Those rumors and they are true.”
Andi nodded sadly.
“Yeah and Dean hates me.”
Cas tilted his head to the side, looking confused.
“Because you are carrying Gabriel’s child?”
Andi nodded, fighting the tears that were forming in her eyes. How could she not be sad? Even if her pregnancy hormones wasn’t going bat shit she would still be devastated. From the day that she had met Sam and Dean as a child she wanted nothing but their approval and favor.
“Yeah something like that. He said the baby is a monster and needs to be destroyed.”
Cas groaned. The angel was obviously annoyed as well.
“Damn it Dean. Andi, the baby isn’t a monster. It is a definite oddity and has a lot of angels in a state but its not a monster. Creating one is forbidden and with Gabriel doing this it is directing the attention of his brothers.”
Andi looked down.
“I’m scared Cas.”
Cas looked around for any sign of Gabriel or either of the Winchesters before going closer to Andi.
“I would consider you a fool if you wasn’t.”
“I can’t find much lore on it. The only thing I have found was carrying a nephilim is fatal to the mother. Gabriel refused to accept that. He said he would save me before I would die but I don’t think he is really thinking clearly. Cas I’m going to die.”
Cas reached out pulling Andi into his arms.
“No, you aren’t. We will find a way. Life finds a way. I have to stress to you the seriousness of the situation though. Nephilim are some of the most powerful creatures imaginable and that is just ones sired by a normal angel. A nephilim with an archangel for a father is going to be off the charts.”
Andi pressed her hand to her mouth trying to ease her pounding heart.
“We will never know peace again will we?”
Cas smiled.
“We will find a way. I’m not leaving you again. You’ve been very dear to me since you have come here. I’ll work on Dean.”
A few mornings later Andi sat quietly beside Lucifer in the doctors office. Of all people that had to accompany her to her appointment. She mentally made a note to kick Gabriel in the shins for this. “So Ms. Pretty did you tell Doc Obvious that you are carrying an archangel’s child? I have a feeling if you did you may be going to a nut house.” Andi swallowed, trying to ignore the repeating sick feeling in her stomach. The last thing she needed was to throw up. “Lucifer for the last time my name is Andi and no I didn’t tell the doctor anything of what your brother is. Gabriel just modified the doctors memory. I am only here so I can see an ultrasound.” Lucifer frowned. He was wondering why on earth they were sitting in a human OBGYN office anyway? These doctors wouldn’t be able to handle the child forming inside Andi’s body. Lucifer smiled at the thought of them trying.
Stupid humans wouldn’t be able to process what was happening to them. The kid would rip them apart. “Really you came to get picture of that little blob inside you?” Andi sighed, feeling annoyed. She gave Lucifer a glare out of the corner of her eyes. She didn’t turn to face him or fully look at him. Instead, she was mentally chewing Gabriel out of for being out of town with Castiel trying to find anything he could on other nephilim. As bad as it sounded, Andi was thankful for a little break from her lover. She was tired of the sympathetic look that Gabriel gave her anytime that he looked at her now. Things were different. He was constantly looking at her like he was apologizing for what he did to her. Gabriel didn’t even let on like he was excited about the baby because he wasn’t. He didn’t say it but that went without saying. “That little blob is your nephew and yes I want to see an ultra sound.” Andi said spitefully. Lucifer nodded leaning back. He was no fool. Lucifer knew good and well that there were problems brewing between Gabriel and Andi. Being his nosy self he prowled through Andi’s thoughts. She was afraid. That he could understand and sympathized with. She also felt that Gabriel really wasn’t in love with her at this point just doing his duty to what he created. Lucifer gagged at the thought of how Gabriel and Andi’s sex life was now nonexistent. That thought Lucifer could have done without. He watched Andi as she placed a hand over her mouth. “I want you to stop vomiting.” He said calmly. Andi looked at him with a beyond annoyed expression. “If I could control it…I would do it on you right now” Lucifer scoffed. “How very Exorcist of you! So Gabriel is out hunting with Cas while your here without him and stuck with little ole me. Does that make you angry?” Andi shook her head. “No. We have to get Raphael taken care of. You know that. Gabriel has to do what needs to be done even if that includes not being with me.” Lucifer groaned before reaching over and putting his fingers to Andi’s head to stop the nausea. Andi blinked a few times before looking over at her lover’s brother. “Thanks.” Lucifer nodded. He wasn’t about to take credit of making someone feel better. That wasn’t his style. At the same time though he did feel sorry for the girl beside him. This pregnancy was taking a lot out of her and she looked like death. When Andi was finally called back to the exam room Lucifer sat looking at all the birthing manuals and other “instructional” materials. “Well none of this will help you. We will probably have to cut that pretty belly of yours open to get the tot out. Humans having angels babies…makes me chuckle.” Andi groaned. “Ugh Luci you are such a prince.” Lucifer grinned “Well thank you!” Lucifer went back to his investigation of items. He picked up a plastic model of the uterus and frowned with disgust. “And my father said he made women beautiful. This is gross!” Andi rolled her eyes for the millionth time. “I’m glad I am having Gabriel’s baby and not yours. Would you stop messing with stuff? The uterus isn’t a toy.” Lucifer smirked again. “Maybe you should tell my brother the uterus isn’t a toy. Obviously he missed the memo since he’s been boning you raw a lot lately. I’m glad you aren’t having my baby either. Although I like you girly you are too mouthy for my liking.”
Andi giggled slightly at that.
“Well you don’t have to worry about any dicking going on any longer Gabriel won’t touch me. I can assure you this will be a one time only thing. Can’t really be planning another since I will be dead.”
Lucifer frowned.
“You aren’t going to die. I wish you would stop talking like that. I am fucking Satan I can bring you back to life. Besides Gabriel won’t let anything happen to you.”
Andi swallowed.
“What if Michael or Raphael find me?”
Lucifer’s face darkened.
“Well let’s say they are going to be coming off a lot worse than what you are right now. Can we stop with the emotional knocked up mess you are being? I prefer you mouthy.”
Arriving back at at the bunker Andi was smiling down at the ultrasound picture in her hand. She had felt much better when the doctor came in and did the ultrasound. Seeing her baby seemed to be everything that Andi needed to feel better. Even Lucifer had a very odd look to his face when he saw the baby.
“Well look at that.”
Was his only comment but his facial expression was a mixture of his normal snark and pride.
When walking into the living room Sam and Dean sat with books in their laps. Sam quickly stood while Dean remained sitting but watched his sister intently.
“Well how was your appointment?”
Sam asked with much concern in his voice. Andi smiled handing her older brother the ultrasound picture. Sam smiled.
“Is everything good?”
Andi nodded, placing a hand on her tummy.
“Yeah from what they could see.”
Sam reached out pulling her into a hug.
“Has Gabriel and Cas came back?”
Before Sam could respond Gabriel and Cas appeared in the room. Gabriel quickly pulled Andi into his arms kissing her. Andi missed being kissed like that! She moaned against his lips before tangling her fingers in his curls. When he pulled away Gabriel cupped her face a moment before nuzzling his face against hers.
“Everything okay peach?”
Andi nodded.
“Mhm. From what the doctor could see everything looked fine.”
She pulled away and handed Gabriel the ultrasound photo. Andi watched his face for any sign of discontent instead he smiled.
“Are you happy?”
Gabriel asked. It was a genuine question. He could sense the happiness in Andi but verbal confirmation seemed nice as well. Gabriel didn’t look to Cas, who was obviously still working on Dean. Gabriel didn’t let his mind dwell too much on the eldest Winchester. The less that he had to deal with him at the moment the better everyone else was. Gabriel wasn’t the least bit pleased with how Dean was treating Andi and was ready to deal out just desserts if things didn’t start improving.
“I am.”
Andi said softly, pulling Gabriel from his thoughts. Gabriel kissed her forehead before glancing back to Cas.
“We’ll be back later.”
Before Cas could object to them going anywhere without another angel the two were gone.
The next thing Andi knew they were standing in the middle of a department store.
“Where are we Gabriel?”
Gabriel shrugged innocently.
“You’ve been looking for baby stuff online and the baby is going to need stuff so here we are. We don’t have a lot of time to play with”
Andi intertwined her hand with his with a smile.
“I love you.”
“I know….I’m pretty awesome.”
Andi rolled her eyes as they started walking through rows of baby clothes and things.
“You are so dreamy Gabe.”
Gabriel chuckled.
“I love you too kid. So you never said how things went with Lucifer.”
Andi stopped walking and gave him a look. For a moment Gabriel was afraid that he was going to have to go off on his brother for a misdoing.
“I was going to kick you in the shins for making him go with me but it actually went okay. Lucifer was just his human hating self. But I think I am winning him over. He kind of admitted it too.”
Gabriel smiled.
“Look at you winning Satan over. I told you that you are alluring sugar.”
Gabriel stopped walking and pulled Andi back into his arms. Blocking out the noise of the department store Andi focused on Gabriel’s golden eyes that seemed even more golden than normal.
“Bewitching is more like it sugar. You’ve bewitched me.”
Gabriel gently kissed her. For the second time of the day he didn’t let his lips leave hers. Pulling away Gabriel didn’t let his lips get too far from hers.
“Gabriel I want you so bad!”
Andi whispered against his lips. She ignored the way he closed his eyes and frowned.
“I know sweetheart.”
He replied before letting his hand trace over her stomach. The moment the baby moved they both jumped away from each other. Gabriel’s eyes widened as he put his hand back.
“Has he moved like that before?”
Andi smiled at the feeling of their baby moving against his father’s hand. It was almost as though Gabriel’s touch real made him get going.
“No, that’s the first time.”
Gabriel went back to running his hand over her stomach just to feel his child move more. Both were so entranced in their moment that neither noticed someone approach until a voice neither wanted to hear began to speak.
“Gabriel so its true.”
Both looked up quickly. Gabriel’s mouth fell at the sight of Kali watching them with a bemused expression on her face. He reached out pulling Andi closer to him. Kali didn’t wait for him to start speaking. She looked at Andi with eyes full of disgust.
“So you get your grace back and knock up a human. Have you truly lost your mind?”
Andi frowned.
“You’re Kali aren’t you?”
Kali looked to Andi with a less than cordial frown.
“Yes I am.”
Andi ignored the look of warning that she was getting from Gabriel.
“I knew that. It wasn’t hard to pick out your arrogant ass.”
Kali looked ready to attack Andi. Gabriel quickly snapped his fingers rendering Kali’s powers useless.
“No.”
He said coldly. Kali looked back to Gabriel deciding to let the young set Winchester’s comment slide.
“You have your grace back.”
“And you can see.”
Gabriel said coldly. Kali rolled her eyes.
“Since you have your grace back you can come back to me if you want.”
Andi looked ready to beat the shit out of the goddess in front of her. If it wasn’t for the knowledge that this could really hurt their baby and Gabriel had a death grip on her things would have been a lot different.
“Not happening. She loved me when I was human something you wouldn’t do. My affiliation is with my lover and child.”
Gabriel said coldly. Kali meanwhile, scoffed.
“Well you’ll get bored with her eventually. You always do get bored with lowly mortals quickly. We’ll see who is right.”
Kali vanished before another word could be uttered leaving both Andi and Gabriel in silence.
“Well she is bitchy as I could have imagined.”
Andi stated ignoring the look of anger on Gabriel’s face.
“Come on we need to get you some dinner.”
Gabriel replied coldly.
The rest of the evening Gabriel was in a silent and icy mood. Andi was so used to his cheerful smile that seeing him frown was almost unnerving. Anytime that she tried to make a conversation with him Gabriel would only give her a one or two word response. By the time that Andi’s dinner showed up she as almost in tears and Gabriel seemed to not give a damn.
Arriving back home Andi marched right past her brothers and Cas to her bedroom and slammed the door. Cas looked to his brother confused.
“Gabriel what happened?”
Gabriel shrugged.
“Bunch of unnecessary drama. Cas keep an eye on her I have to go clear my head.”
Before Cas could object Gabriel vanished leaving the rest of team free will in an awkward silence. Andi, meanwhile stood undressing. She was glad for the moment that Gabriel wasn’t in the room. She didn’t want him to see her sobbing.
The moment the baby moved Andi froze feeling the tears falling faster. She placed her hand in the same place that Gabriel’s had been letting her mind go into overdrive. What if Gabriel still had feelings for Kali and seeing her just reconfirmed everything? Could see really stand for Gabriel to break things off with her and go back to the goddess? The answer was no. Andi couldn’t stand the thought of Gabriel being back in the arms of that horrible woman. Would Gabriel abandon her and their child for Kali? Could it come to that? At the moment Andi was beginning to think yes.
Getting into bed Andi tried to get her mind from the thoughts rushing into her about Gabriel but she couldn’t stop it. Their tender moment was ruined in a blink of a eye. Deep down Andi knew that their life would probably be like this a lot. People would always try to come between them. Once Michael and Raphael knew 100% about the baby they would start their drama.
“This is why angels and humans shouldn’t mix.”
Andi whimpered, pressing her face into her pillow
“Dean was right.”
_______
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