You Useless Reptile

Do you have unhealthy obsessions with books, movies, and TV shows? Cool, me too.

[auddy-95]

Masterlist

Mel King/Frank Langdon (The Pitt)

Five Times-Dr. King and Dr. Langdon successfully hide their relationship five times. Then, there's the time they don't. 18+ one shot

Before Five-Prologue to Five Times. Out of nowhere, Dr. Langdon starts ignoring her and Mel can't take it. She decides to find out why. one shot

Your Face. My Face.-Mel doesn't like that other women notice how good looking Dr. Langdon's face is. In fact, it bothers her so much, she decides to tell him just what she thinks of him. And what exactly she'd like to do to his face. 18+ one shot

A Year-A year ago, Frank’s life had been crashing in around him. He’d been suffocating in a blanket of self-hatred and fear and had no reason to believe he’d ever break the surface. Now, he has the three most important things in his life holding on tight to him and he realizes how much can change. one shot

Fili/Sigrid (The Hobbit)

From the Ashes- She is the Lady of Dale. He is the heir to the throne of Erebor. Two separate kingdoms. Two different races. A political friendship between them is expected. Anything more would be against the rules. Fili has always been quite good at breaking rules. Fili and Sigrid after BotFA. 18+

One shots/drabbles

Bold

Adrian Chase/oc (Peacemaker)

In The Silence With You- A rewrite of season 1 and 2, with a new member of the team. Cass was assigned to Project Butterfly because she had a problem with following orders. With her personal life crumbling around her, she finds comfort in an unlikely team member. Vigilante. 18+

Sathia/Tharion (Crescent City)

Flowers and Fins- Sathia and Tharion are strangers figuring out how to make their marriage work, while the world around them is struggling to begin anew. Sathia and Tharion after the events of CC3. 18+

[auddy-95]

In The Silence With You

Chapter 10

Pairing: Adrian Chase/female original character

Summary: A rewrite of season 1 and 2, with a new member of the team.

Cass was assigned to Project Butterfly because she had a problem with following orders. With her personal life crumbling around her, she finds comfort in an unlikely team member. Vigilante. 18+ chapter warnings: attempted assault, canon typical violence

Author's note: omg guys this one is so long. i'm so sorry. it completely got away from me. enjoy cass and adrian's year apart :)

Words: 11k

ao3 link

previous chapters

The first text from Adrian came through before she boarded the plane. Her eyes were still swollen and her leg hurt more than ever, but when the small vibrations came through her pocket, she felt a smile tug on the corner of her lips.

Are we just forgetting about your car that was impounded by the police? Do I need to steal it back?

Cass sniffled. She moved her crutch out of the way of some lady lugging an overly large floral suitcase, before swiftly typing out a reply. The car was ARGUS property. It’s not really my problem

Oh. That’s good.

Cass stared at the screen for a few seconds. Overhead, an announcement echoed through the boarding area that they would be boarding soon. Another message appeared.

There was a crow by my car. Want to see a picture?

Her mouth quirked as she typed out her reply.

Yes, please.

***

Cass's first month away from Evergreen disappeared in a blur of physical therapy appointments, paperwork, and learning how to exist inside an office again. Despite the crutch leaning against her desk and the standing physical therapy appointments on her calendar, ARGUS still buried her beneath twelve-hour days. John worked only a few floors away, and more than once she found herself eating lunch with him simply because it was nice to see a familiar face. It was through him that she learned Harcourt hadn't been welcomed back after Project Butterfly.

Officially, there wasn't enough evidence to justify her actions. Unofficially, Amanda Waller had used her final days at ARGUS to make sure Harcourt would never work there again. If she couldn't punish her own daughter for exposing her on national television, she'd settle for the woman standing beside her.

It only took a couple weeks for Cass to fall into a simple routine. Every morning started with physical therapy, whether it was in her apartment or in the clinic. Every afternoon she was drowning in paperwork.

Every evening she had a phone call with Adrian.

Sometimes she'd answer to find him deciding between cereal brands at the grocery store. Other nights he was perched on a rooftop somewhere, watching traffic below with a billboard flashing behind him.

The 11th Street Kids group chat stayed active, and Adebayo checked in often to make sure she was healing. Adrian never really called to check in. He just called. Sometimes it was ten minutes. Sometimes it was two hours.

Without realizing it, Cass began measuring her days by those phone calls.

***

It took almost eight weeks before her mother called her. The conversation lasted about five minutes, then Cass hung up. She called Adrian instead.

Even though he was a couple hours behind her, it was late. Cass propped up the phone in her lamp-lit bedroom as she ripped a brush through her damp hair. Adrian picked up on the second ring and the red visor filled her screen. It looked like he was hanging upside down from a fire escape.

“You will not believe the conversation I just had with my mother,” Cass growled out, as he flipped himself around. “She had the nerve to be angry at me like all of this was somehow my fault.”

Adrian’s screen wobbled dangerously and there were flashes of brick as he scaled a building. His next words came with heavy breath. “What was your fault?”

“Everything that happened.” She slammed her brush down on her nightstand, next to the picture Harcourt had taken nearly two months prior. “She’s mad about the breakup with Harry. She’s mad I didn’t call her and personally tell her about the breakup, that she had to find out when all my stuff showed up on her doorstep which is kind of fair, but get this! She knew I was in the hospital and hadn’t bothered to check in at all. As my emergency contact, she got a phone call about it and I’m just now finding out. She said if it had been anything too serious, ARGUS would have called twice.”

“Damn.” It looked like Adrian swung himself onto a rooftop. “Fuck her. Change me to your emergency contact.”

Cass frowned at the screen. “You’re on the other side of the country.”

“So? At least I’d pick up the phone.” There was another heavy breath. “What was work like today? They find someone to replace Waller yet?”

Cass flopped onto her bed, rolling onto her side so she could face the Adrian had stopped running. For the first time since he'd answered, he was actually looking at the screen.

Something tugged in her chest at the sight of the red visor.

Swallowing down a sudden wave of homesickness, she pushed herself up onto one elbow.

“No, but John packed this disgusting smelling lunch-.”

***

The Friday before Thanksgiving, Cass sent in her request to work remotely.

It was denied when she turned on her computer Monday morning. She read the email twice before closing it and opening the first report waiting in her inbox.

ARGUS had no current director. The department was barely functioning. She could wait until things settled down. She'd submit another request later.

***

By the time fall was coming to a close and frost speckled her window every morning, Cass didn’t have to use her crutch anymore.

"Ready?"

Adrian frowned through the screen. He had part of his suit in one hand and a sewing needle in another. So far, he’d only been half-looking at the screen, but at her question, his gaze snapped to hers. "For what?"

Cass grinned so hard her cheeks hurt as she set the phone up on the kitchen counter. She stepped back until her whole body was in frame. "Watch."

Then she walked ten, slow steps across the apartment. No crutch. No cane. No hand dragging along the wall for balance. When she reached the other side, she turned back toward the phone, beaming.

"Holy shit," Adrian said.

"I know!” she laughed.

“Do it again.”

Cass slowly walked back toward the phone. She planted her hands on her hips when she reached the counter, looking unbearably smug.

“Amazing. Ten out of ten. I would totally give you an award for walking unassisted if I was there.” Adrian’s mouth quirked.

Cass's smile faltered. The apartment suddenly felt very quiet. She reached for her phone instead, rubbing her thumb against the edge of the case.

“I would have made a certificate and everything,” Adrian continued, oblivious to her reaction.

“Lame. I don’t want a certificate,” she joked, falling onto her couch. Her leg throbbed slightly. “Having you here would be enough of a present.”

“Yeah.” The sewing needle paused. “I’d like that too.”

Neither of them spoke. Adrian still held the torn glove in one hand, the needle suspended halfway through the fabric.

Cass looked away first.

"So," she said, clearing her throat. "Why are you fixing your suit?"

Adrian held the glove up to the camera. A long tear ran from the wrist nearly to the elbow.

"Chris accidentally shot me."

Cass narrowed her eyes. Irritation flickered through her. “Accidentally?"

"Yeah." He threaded the needle through the fabric with practiced ease. "He said he thought I was behind the other dumpster."

***

The snow was so thick on the ground, Cass had to practically wade through it. It was pretty annoying too, because John was a few steps in front of her, in the middle of a video call that she very much wanted to be a part of.

“Oh thank God. You’re all there,” John was saying as he trudged his way to their car. It was truly unbelievable the amount it had snowed during their time in the office. “You guys won’t believe-.”

“John, wait!” Cass whined, trying to walk in the steps he’d already made. She caught up and grabbed him around his arm to force herself into the frame of the video. She heaved, panting slightly as she smiled at the group. “Hi guys!”

Like her and John, they were all sharing Harcourt's phone. It looked like they were in the living room of her new apartment. Harcourt and Chris were squeezed together on the couch while Ads sat in a recliner beside them. Adrian was half in frame behind the chair, leaning over the backrest to look at the screen.

The moment he spotted her, he smiled.

They'd talked that morning, but Cass still felt a warm pull in her chest at the sight of him.

“Hello, Cass,” Harcourt said dryly. “Are you guys going to tell us your news or can I hang up now?”

“Guess who the new director of ARGUS is?” Cass hissed, aware they were still in the parking lot. “It’s-.”

"Rick Flag Sr.," John cut in, pulling his arm out of Cass's grasp and inadvertently shoving her out of frame. She glowered at him. "They announced it today. You realize what this means, right? Any day now he's going to have access to every classified file his son’s name ever touched-."

Cass grabbed his sleeve again and wedged herself back into the frame. "He's going to know all about Project Starfish!"

“Oh, fuck.” Chris and Harcourt shared horrified looks. Ads and Adrian looked lost. “He’s going to know-.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Adrian leaned further into the frame. It was easier than before because Harcourt and Chris had started a whispered conversation and were only half paying attention to the phone now. “Why can’t he know the details about Project Starfish?”

“Because,” John started, holding the phone away from Cass as she jumped for it. “At the end of the mission, Chris killed-.”

Cass pulled on his arm and jumped at just the right time to snatch the phone from his hands. There was a sharp, painful tug somewhere deep in her thigh, but she ingored it as she whirled away from John and hurried to the car.

“Because,” she repeated, whispering harshly “Chris killed his son! Rick Flag Jr. died during Project Starfish, but only those with access to the files will know that it was because of Chris.”

Adrian yanked the phone from Harcourt’s loose hand. “No fucking way!”

“Adrian! Give me that back!”

“Yes!” Cass flung open the passenger door and fell into the seat. Snowflakes fell in after her. “Isn’t that insane?”

“Adrian Chase, give me my phone back!”

“Get off my nuts! I’m talking to Cass!” The screen moved swiftly, like Adrian was batting someone off of him. “Jesus Christ, why are you so freakishly strong-.”

The call ended. Cass stared at the black screen for a few seconds, before John climbed into he driver’s seat. She gently laid his phone in his outstretched hand. Just as he started the car, there was ringing from in her pocket. Cass dug out her own phone and swiped it open.

Adrian’s face filled her screen. His glasses were slightly lopsided and his hair was atnding up in odd places. Cass bit back a smile.

“Hi,” she said. “I take it Emilia got her phone back?”

“Yeah, but it was an unfair fight.” He perched himself on the arm of the recliner. Ads moved her face in the screen and waved. Cass waved back. “Ads grabbed me from behind, so it was two against one. You should have been here to even it out.”

“Sorry, I wouldn’t have helped you though,” Cass leaned back in her seat as John pulled out the space. “It would have been three versus one.”

“Traitor.”

Cass laughed, but the screen shifted as he adjusted himself, showing the four of them in the living room.

Cass felt a pang of jealousy.

***

Cass hurried up the stairs of her mother’s foyer. The sound of her heels on the dark wood were drowned out from the Christmas party below; cherry music, the clinking of glasses and popping bottles.

She couldn't get enough air.

Every breath caught halfway down, trapped somewhere beneath the pressure squeezing her ribs. She was going to scream or throw up or pass out. She wasn't sure which would happen first.

 She rounded the stairs and found an empty hallway with no guests. She beelined it to her childhood bedroom and threw herself in and locked the door.

Stupid. Why was she so unbelievably stupid?

She knew better than to listen to her mother. She knew when she called, begging her to come to her annual Christmas party because she wanted to start over, it was bullshit. The problem was, somewhere deep down, she wanted to fix things with her mom too. It didn’t help that she was lonely and she had no desire to spend Christmas alone in her empty apartment, so she agreed. She even bought a new dress for the occasion.

What was the worst thing that could happen?

Turns out, it happened while her mother toted her around.

“Yes, this my daughter, Cassandra. She’s been away at work for a while. Isn’t she a doll?”

Cass let herself be dragged around, smiling painfully at politicians and businessmen. She didn’t remember any faces, and she barely said a word. It was a dull way to spend an evening, but was better than being alone and she did really like the new dress.

She wondered if Adrian would like it. She made mental note to call him before she changed later.

“Oh, Cassandra look who it is! How nice.”

Her mother steered her toward the library. Cass frowned. Her mother’s hand stayed tight on her back. A man's voice drifted through the doorway. Then, she saw the black leather glove wrapped around a crystal tumbler. The glove looked expensive, but it didn’t quite hide that two of the fingers sat an odd angles.

Her blood ran cold as Harry turned to look at her.

“Mom,” Cass hissed, heat rising in her chest. Harry’s eyes glinted smugly. “What are you doing?”

Her mother ignored her.

“Evening, Mrs. Wells. It’s good to see you again.” Harry stepped forward, gently grasping her mother’s hand before kissing it. Her mother blushed as he straightened. “I appreciate the invitation.”

“Of course, Harry.” Her mother clutched the side of Cass’s dress and tried to force her forward. “I know you two haven’t had much time to chat and I thought what better time than the holidays!”

Harry smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“Mom.” Cass tried again. “Mom, stop-.”

"It's Christmas, Casandra. Enough with the dramatics.” Her mother eyes her disapprovingly as she crossed the room. “There's no reason two people who cared so much about each other can't have a conversation.

Before Cass could follow, her mother slipped into the hallway. The library door clicked shut behind her. Cass stared at it, before turning back to Harry. He was still smiling.

Her mind flashed to the motel room. Harry's weight crushing the air from her lungs. The crack of cartilage beneath the heel of her shoe as she'd driven it into his face.

Blood.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Harry took a slow sip from his glass, studying her over the rim. "You look good."

Cass folded her arms and scowled, but she kept quiet. Something about it must have looked entertaining to Harry, because he chuckled. It was a low, uncomfortable sound.

“Nothing to say?” He took another sip. “You had plenty to say last we saw each other. Is it because your attack dog isn’t around?”

Cass continued to glare. Her arms tightened over her chest.

“Guess you’re only brave when you have other people around to do your dirty work, huh?”

Cass didn’t give him the satisfaction of answering. She turned, arms still crossed, intent on leaving. Her hells echoed on the floors, and she was almost to the door when he called out to her. “I’ll see you around the office, Cassandra!”

She stopped at the doorway and turned. He was still wearing the smug smile and something sick twisted in her stomach.

“What are you talking about?”

“Government clearance. I’m working my way up.” He took another long sip as he slowly walked to her. She took a step back, her back pressing into the doorframe. The smell of liquor wafted from him. “If I ever find myself in your neck of the woods, maybe I’ll swing by.”

His gaze lingered this time, moving from her face to the neckline of her dress before drifting lower with deliberate slowness. Enough so, Cass felt a wave of nausea.

“You really do look good.” He reached for her hair and Cass slapped his hand away. He laughed again, raising the glass tumbler to his lips. “Tell me, did you let the freak in the mask fuck you as soon as I left or was that going on before you tried to end things?”

“Don’t talk about him,” Cass hissed.

“Touchy.” Harry swirled the liquid in his cup. “He must be rubbing off on you. I never really took you for having a thing for lunatics.”

“He isn’t a lunatic.”

“Right. Just a masked serial killer.” He glanced around the room. "Kind of disappointing, really. I’ve been thinking about his threat. I figured he'd be crashing through a window by now."

Cass's fingers curled tighter around her crossed arms.

Harry took another slow sip. The glint in his eye was menacing. “He’s not here is he?"

Something cold settled in her stomach.

Cass didn't answer. It wasn’t worth it. She reached for the brass doorknob instead. The door only opened an inch before Harry's hand slammed against it. The wood rattled in its frame and she froze. His forearm boxed her in, only inches from her face.

"I asked you a question."

She lifted her chin. "And I don't owe you an answer."

The glove wrapped around the tumbler flexed. Two of the fingers remained at an odd angle.

"You know I still can't close these?" His voice stayed almost conversational. "Some days I think I ought to wrap them around your neck for what the two of you did to me, but-" His gaze drifted slowly to her mouth. "I think I'll settle for something else."

Cass moved to shove him against the chest, but he grabbed her wrist with his free hand. Harry leaned forward, the bitter smell of alcohol filling her nose.

“Does he like those little sound you make?” His nose brushed hers and Cass yanked against his grasp, but he didn’t budge. “I always did.”

Before she could turn away, his mouth crashed into hers. It was split second of bitter alcohol and nauseating heat, before she was finally able to get a good purchase on his chest and shove. Harry stumbled back, his grip finally slipping.

Cass scrubbed at her mouth with the back of her hand. Lipstick smeared. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Harry laughed once, wiping the corner of his mouth. He'd managed to save most of the liquor in his glass, and he took another slow sip, his eyes never leaving hers.

Cass's chest heaved. "You're drunk."

"A little." He shrugged. "Doesn't change the fact you look amazing tonight. Hell of a waste, really.”

"Stay the hell away from me."

"Why?" His smile widened. "Afraid your boyfriend's going to hear about it?"

Cass glared at him. “He’s going to kill you.”

“Is he though?’ he gestured back to the wide expanse of windows as he slowly closed the space between them. Cass held her ground. “We’ve already established he isn’t here.”

“He will.” He was in front of her again. Cass held his gaze, putting every ounce of hatred into her stare as she refused to look away. “And the second he finds out you put your hands on me, I’m not going to be able to stop him.”

Cass watched as Harry’s smile faltered, but only for a second, before the sneer was back.

“I still think you’re full of shit,” he whispered, before he caught the side of her face and crushed his mouth against hers a second time.

Cass was ready. The instant he made contact, she planted both palms against his chest and shoved with everything she had. Harry stumbled backward, one foot catching awkwardly on the edge of the rug. Before he could recover, Cass drove the pointed heel of her shoe down onto the top of his foot.

Harry let out a sharp curse, the crystal tumbler slipping from his hand. It shattered across the hardwood, amber liquor spraying across the floor as he lurched sideways into the corner of a heavy bookshelf. The shelves rattled violently, picture frames tipping askew.

Cass didn't wait to see if he got back up.

She yanked the library door open and burst into the hallway.

Christmas music drifted up from the first floor, cheerful and oblivious. Laughter echoed from below as guests mingled beneath the chandelier, completely unaware of what had just happened only a few rooms away.

Cass ran.

Her heels struck the hardwood in rapid succession as she took the staircase two steps at a time. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

She rounded the landing and sprinted down the empty hallway, fumbling for the brass knob of her childhood bedroom. Her hands shook so badly it took two tries to turn it.

She threw herself inside, slammed the door, and twisted the lock. Only then did she let herself breathe.

The adrenaline hit all at once.

Her knees gave out beneath her, and she slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor, her black dress pooling around her legs. She scrubbed at her mouth again and again with the back of her hand, as though she could erase the lingering taste of whiskey.

A sob tore its way out of her chest.

Her hands shook so violently she nearly dropped her phone trying to unlock it. She couldn't call Adrian, because she knew exactly what he would do. She pressed Emilia's name instead.

"Cass?" Emilia's voice was immediately alert.The sound of laughter echoed somewhere behind her.

Cass frowned. “Are you busy?"

"I’m at Chris’s house." Emilia's voice softened immediately. “He insisted on hosting Christmas."

A loud crash sounded through the speaker. There was the distant sound of Chris shouting something about a burnt ham.

A watery laugh escaped Cass before another sob followed it.

"Cass?"

She couldn't answer.

"Are you okay?"

She drew a shaky breath.

"My mom-" Her voice cracked. "She invited Harry. She invited him to her stupid party that I didn’t even want to go and he cornered me.”

“What the fuck!” Emilia shouted. There was the sound of something slamming. “That’s bullshit, Cass. What happened? What did he say?”

“Awful things,” she said, not wanting to go into detail. “Awful things about me and Adrian.”

“Ugh, our little freak should have killed him when he had the chance-hey!”

The was a shuffle on the other end. A chair scraped violently across the floor. Cass frowned. “Emilia?”

The laughter and conversation she'd heard in the background only moments ago disappeared beneath the scrape of furniture across hardwood. Someone said Adrian's name. Another voice answered too quickly for her to make out.

"Adrian, wait."

Cass's stomach dropped. “Adrian?”

The room around her suddenly felt too small. Too dark.

Only the glow from the bedside lamp reached the corner where she sat curled against the door. The Christmas lights outside the window blinked softly through the curtains, washing the walls in muted reds and greens. Downstairs, muffled music drifted through the vents, cheerful and distant, as if it belonged to another house entirely.

A beat of silence. Then his voice.

“Cassie.”

It was so calm it made her heart start pounding.

“I didn't know you were there.”

“What happened?”

“Adrian-.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“It's over.” She scrubbed a hand across her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Cass.”

She swallowed. Her hands shook slightly. She knew exactly what was coming. “Please don’t do this, okay? It’s not worth it.”

"What did he say to you?”

"It doesn’t matter what he said to me,” she said, a little more firmly than before. Downstairs, someone popped a bottle and there were cheers. “He was just being a jerk and saying things to scare me-.”

“Did he touch you?”

Cass stayed silent.

“Cassie.” There was that eerily calm voice again. “Did he put his hands on you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “He kissed me.” Silence. “And I shoved him off me, but he said awful things and then-then he tried it again.” Her voice cracked. “I pushed him again and got out.”

The line stayed quiet.

“Adrian?”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Good.”

She let out a shaky breath.

“Please don't do what you're thinking.”

“Cass.” His voice was still impossibly even. “I'm already going to. I’m just trying to decide how long to draw it out for. What did he say to you?”

Cass stared at the floorboards. The varnished wood blurred through fresh tears. Downstairs, another wave of laughter drifted through the vents, followed by the opening notes of another Christmas song.

"He called you a freak-"

"I don't care what he said about me. Did he say anything about you?"

“He asked-he asked if I let you sleep with me after he left or if we’d already been doing that.” She rubbed at her eyes. “He kept saying you didn’t care about me because-because you weren’t there to stop him.”

There was a beat of silence, then he uttered a single word with perfect clarity.

“Okay.”

With no warning, the line went dead.

Adrian didn’t answer her calls for the rest of the night.

He didn’t answer them the next day, when she drove back to her apartment and ignored her mother’s goodbyes.

He didn’t answer them the third day, when she went back to work and John handed her a cup of coffee on the way in. When she called Fennel Fields that night and asked for him, they said he’d taken the week off to care for his sick mother.

He didn’t answer her call on the fourth day. By lunchtime, Harry’s face was on the news. He hadn’t been seen since sometime early the day before.

Adrian finally answered on the fifth day.

Cass paced in her apartment. Snow drifted past the window, softening the yellow glow of the streetlamps. The phone in her hands rang repeatedly and just as she was about to toss it aside as she had every day before, there was click and familiar voice answered.

“Jesus Christ, I have like twenty missed calls from you.”

“Adrian!” Cass gasped, halting in the middle of her living room. “Oh my God. Are you okay? Why haven’t you been answering?”

“I’ve been busy.” She thought she heard him yawn. “How was work?”

“Adrian Chase!” she hissed. “You’ve been ignoring everyone for days. Emilia said you stormed out of Chris’s place and no one ahs seen you since!” She swallowed and lowered her voice. “Harry went missing and I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not.” His voice was low, laced with exhaustion. She thought there might be another yawn. “He’s still just missing? They haven’t found the body? That’s crazy. I didn’t hide it that hard.”

Unease settled in her gut.

“You killed him?”

“Yeah, eventually.”

Her grip tightened on here phone. Adrian disappeared five days ago. Harry hadn’t been reported missing until the third day.

“What do you mean, eventually?”

“I don't know.” He yawned. “I just wasn't in a hurry. Had a few things I wanted to say first.”

A knot settled in her stomach as her mind tried, and failed, to fill in the missing days.

Cass waited for the anger and the horror. She waited to feel sick.

It never came. Instead, something in her chest slowly unwound. Relief spread through her instead. The realization hit a heartbeat later.

Oh God. What the hell is wrong with me?

"Cassie?"

She swallowed. "Yeah?"

“Why are you so quiet?”

“I'm just.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead and let out a shaky breath. “I'm trying to process the fact that you disappeared for five days, murdered my ex-boyfriend, and somehow sound like you just woke up from a nap.”

“I did.”

She frowned. “What?”

“I got home like twenty minutes ago.” Another yawn. “I've been awake for almost four days.”

She fell quiet again. She could picture it. Adrian sprawled across his couch, still half dressed in his suit, one boot probably still on because he'd been too tired to take it off. His curls flattened in every direction. Eyes heavy. Barely able to keep them open.

A sharp ache settled in her chest.

She missed him.

She missed him so fiercely it stole the words from her throat and she almost told him, but Adrian mistook her silence for something else.

"I'm not apologizing." His voice was still tired, but careful. “You can be pissed if you want, but you told him to stay away and he didn’t. If he did something to you-.” There was long pause. “If he did something to you, I would never forgive myself.”

Emotion stung in Cass's eyes. She clutched the front of her shirt, and she so badly wished Adrian were there, in front of her, that it was almost painful. Not as an image on her phone. Not a staticky voice in her ear.

She wanted him there.

She wanted to see the slight tilt of his head through the red visor when he was trying to understand her. To hear his voice from somewhere besides the tiny speaker pressed against her ear.

She wanted him close enough that she could reach out and hold him, instead of her own shirt.

The ache in her chest was so sudden, so sharp, that it stole her breath

"I don't want you to apologize," she whispered. "Thank you."

Adrian was quiet.

"You should probably tell everyone you're back," Cass said after a moment. "Ads has been worried sick. Chris too. They've all been looking for you."

A groan crackled through the speaker. "Do I have to?"

Cass smiled. "Yes."

“I’m really tired,” Adrian sighed dramatically. "I'll do it tomorrow."

Cass laughed softly and shook her head. The ache in her chest burned.

"Tomorrow," she agreed.

***

Cass submitted her second request to work remotely on a Tuesday morning in February.

It was denied by lunchtime.

***

By the time Cass finally escaped work, the parking garage was nearly empty.

Twelve hours of back-to-back meetings and deadlines had left her with a headache pulsing behind her eyes. She tossed her bag into the passenger seat, started the car, and hit Adrian's name before she'd even pulled out of the parking space.

The phone rang and rang.

She frowned as it rolled to voicemail. Weird. Usually, if Adrian couldn't answer, a text would arrive before she'd even lowered the phone from her ear.

Working.

Give me ten minutes.

I’m in the shower and I’m pretty sure you don’t want me answering here.

There was always an explanation. Tonight there was nothing. She told herself not to be ridiculous. He was probably in the middle of something.

By the time she let herself into her apartment nearly forty minutes later, there was still no message waiting. Unease settled quietly in her stomach.

She kicked off her shoes, dropped her keys onto the counter, and tried again. The call connected almost immediately and relief flooded through her.

"Adri-."

"Hey, Cass."

She froze. "Chris?"

Chris’s face filled the screen. The video wobbled and shook, like he was moving quickly. She frowned, recognizing the walls and ceiling of Emilia’s apartment. Somewhere off camera, metal clattered against tile.

"Hold still," Emilia snapped, somewhere unseen.

"I'm trying.” Adrian’s voice came out as a groan and slightly muffled.

Cass's brow furrowed. Chris turned a corner, and for half a second the camera dipped toward the floor. Bloody footprints stretched across the outdated linoleum.

Every muscle in her body froze.

“Where’s Adrian?”

Chris sighed so heavily it crackled through the speaker and looked at her like she should already know the answer.

"Currently?" He snorted. "Bleeding all over Emilia's kitchen table after showing up on her doorstep half dead and interrupting our night." He shook his head. "I swear to God, the man couldn't have collapsed literally anywhere else."

The camera caught the room in fragments.

A discarded mask with a flash of red beneath the table. Torn pieces of tactical armor scattered across the floor.

Blood.

Crimson footprints crossed the linoleum. A soaked towel had been abandoned beside the sink. Red drops slid lazily from the edge of the counter, collecting in uneven circles on the floor below.

Then the phone lifted another few inches.

Cass stopped breathing.

Adrian lay face-down across Emilia's kitchen table.

The upper half of his suit had been cut away and tossed onto the floor beside him. His bare back glistened with sweat and blood, a jagged hole just beneath his shoulder blade staining everything beneath him a deep, impossible red. One of Emilia's white kitchen towels had been pressed beneath the wound at some point, but it had long since surrendered, completely saturated.

Emilia braced one hand firmly between his shoulder blades while the other disappeared into the wound with a pair of forceps.

"I think I’m close," she muttered.

Adrian's entire body went rigid.

Every muscle in his back tightened beneath blood-slick skin. His fingers crushed the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. His jaw locked so hard Cass thought she heard his teeth grind together through the speaker.

A strangled breath escaped anyway.

"Adrian."

His eyes opened.

They were unfocused for a second before finding Chris, and then the phone. Recognition flashed across his face.

“Hang.” The words came out through clenched teeth. "Up."

Chris glanced between the screen and Adrian.

"Cass called."

"I know." Adrian squeezed his eyes shut as Emilia shifted the forceps again. A sharp hiss slipped through his teeth before he forced himself still. "Hang up. She'll worry."

"Don't you dare," she snapped, louder than she'd intended.

Adrian looked back toward the phone.

For just a second, the pain disappeared behind something almost sheepish.

"Cassie-"

"Do. Not. Hang. Up."

Emilia muttered something under her breath and withdrew the forceps. The muscles across Adrian's back finally loosened, though his breathing stayed shallow. A smear of fresh blood streaked across the fingers of her glove.

"What the hell happened?" Cass demanded,

Adrian worked his jaw once before answering. There was blood along his teeth where he'd bitten through the inside of his cheek. "Got shot."

"I can see that,” she snapped. “How?"

He shrugged or at least tried to. The movement made him flinch. "Guy had a gun."

Chris snorted and Cass glowered at the screen. "Thanks, Sherlock."

Adrian closed his eyes, settling his cheek against the table. His fingers had finally loosened their hold on the edge.

"I couldn’t reach it myself." He paused to catch his breath. “Harcourt’s apartment was close."

Chris let out an annoyed sigh on the other side of the screen. "We were having a perfectly nice evening. Emilia made dinner, we were halfway through a movie." He pointed accusingly toward Adrian. "Next thing I know this idiot faceplants onto her welcome mat and starts bleeding all over it."

Adrian cracked one eye open. “I knocked first.”

Emilia adjusted her grip, leaning farther over Adrian until Cass could barely see him beneath her shoulder.

"I can't find it."

Cass watched the forceps disappear into the wound again. Emilia pulled them free with another muttered curse. They were empty.

"It's deeper than I thought."

Chris stepped closer. The camera bobbed with him, giving Cass a brief glimpse of his shoes stopping beside the table.

"Should we just take him to a hospital?"

"No hospital." Adrian's voice was rough.

Cass couldn't see his face anymore, only the muscles across his shoulders suddenly bunching beneath Emilia's hands.

"Adrian," Emilia warned.

"Just-" He drew in a slow, uneven breath. "-dig it out."

"I'm not digging around blind."

Another pause. Cass watched Adrian's fingers curl against the edge of the table again. His forearm trembled from the effort of staying still.

"You'll find it."

Emilia leaned back just enough for Cass to catch Adrian's profile. His cheek was still pressed against the wood. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused with exhaustion.

"You are the most stubborn person I've ever met," Emilia muttered. On the edge of the frame, Cass saw blonde hair whirl, like Emilia had whipped her head towards the phone. “Cass, tell him I need to take him to the hospital.”

Even as Cass opened her mouth, she wasn’t sure what she was going to say to convince the others not to take him to get help. A hospital would ask too many questions. A hospital would notice, once the bullet was free, Adrian’s body would take care of the rest much faster than normal, but none of that was Cass’s to tell.

Adrian beat her to it. “Just get it over with."

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Emilia muttered, through clenched teeth. Cass couldn't see her anymore, but she could picture the way her lips peeled back from her teeth whenever she got angry. “Fine. Chris, get over here and help me. Cass, keep him talking.”

The camera settled sideways against the tabletop.

For the first time since Chris had answered, Cass had an unobstructed view of Adrian.

His curls clung damply to his forehead. Blood stained the corner of his mouth, and his face had gone an unhealthy shade of pale beneath the freckles. Even lying still, she could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, each breath a little shallower than the last.

He turned his head just enough to look at the screen.

"Hi," he said quietly.

Her throat tightened. "You better not hang up this phone."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "Wasn't planning to."

There was a brief pause while Emilia rearranged the instruments somewhere beyond the edge of the screen.

"You look awful."

Adrian let out the faintest huff that might have been a laugh. “I was going to say the same thing.”

"You've got a bullet stuck in your shoulder."

"Yeah." His eyes settled on her for another moment. "But you've got that line."

"What line?"

He lifted a finger covered in dried blood weakly toward his own forehead. "Right there. The one you get when you're trying not to panic." His hand dropped back to the table. "I hate that one."

A gloved hand slipped into view, appearing on his shoulder. Cass swallowed waiting for the flash of the metal forceps. His hazy eyes focused on her. “Did you know sea cucumbers throw up their guts?”

Cass paused. “What?”

"Yeah." His mouth twitched faintly. "When they get scared, they just... eject their organs."

"That's disgusting."

"It's actually pretty smart." His voice had gone softer now. Sleepier. "Predator gets distracted. Then they just grow everything back."

Emilia's hand shifted. Adrian's words stopped. His jaw locked. A slow breath hissed between his teeth as something just out of frame made him tense. His fingers curled around the edge of the table.

"Easy," Emilia murmured.

Adrian gave the smallest nod. Then his entire body jerked. A strangled gasp escaped him before he could swallow it back and Cass instantly felt like she could cry.

Chris’s hands shot into frame, one catching Adrian across the shoulders as the other grabbed his forearm to keep him from pushing himself off the table. There were muttered words from Chris and Emilia off the screen, but Cass couldn’t make out any of them.

Adrian's breathing had become uneven.

Every muscle across his back stood out beneath the blood.

His eyes squeezed shut. Then, after a long second, they opened again. They found the phone

"Sea cucumbers," he managed through clenched teeth, "are really weird."

“Sounds like it,” Cass said in a weak voice. She desperately tried to keep the tremble away from her lips. “Maybe next time someone raises a gun to you, you should throw up all your organs.”

He let out a huff of laughter. It barely lasted a heartbeat. Emilia moved again. Adrian's hint of smile vanished. His teeth clenched so hard the muscles in his jaw jumped.

Cass's heart lurched.

There was a metallic scrape from somewhere beyond the edge of the frame. Then a strangled yell tore out of him. His whole body bowed off the table before Chris forced him back down. Every tendon in his neck stood out. His hand slipped from the edge of the table, searching blindly until it found purchase again, fingers shaking so violently Cass thought they might give out.

Another broken sound escaped him, smaller this time, swallowed almost immediately behind gritted teeth as he fought to force it back down.

Cass raised a trembling hand over her mouth.

She couldn't help him.

She couldn't even touch him.

All she could do was watch

She wasn’t sure how long it took for the apartment to go quiet. In reality, it hadn’t taken long at all for Emilia to finally find the bullet. Maybe a few minutes, but it had felt like a lifetime of watching Adrian fight against the pain.

Cass wasn’t sure which was worse. What she just witnessed or watching him immediately collapse in a field. Both would haunt her forever.

The harsh overhead light had been switched off. Only the small lamp above the stove cast a warm amber glow across Emilia's kitchen.

Somewhere deeper in the apartment, water hissed steadily through the shower pipes. Emilia had disappeared to shower and Chris was gone, deposing of a blood-stained welcomed mat and towels.

Adrian was still lying on the kitchen table.

A thick white bandage disappeared beneath what remained of his suit, wrapped tightly around his shoulder and chest. Blood still seeped lazily through the gauze, but it had slowed to an occasional crimson drop. Every few seconds one gathered beneath the edge of the table before falling to the tile with a soft, lonely tap.

Resting in the center was the flattened bullet, dark with blood, its edges peeled back into an ugly little mushroom from striking bone.

Cass couldn't stop looking at it. That tiny piece of metal had done all of this, wedged itself so far into him that Emilia had to practically carve out a hunk of his back to retrieve it.

It looked so small.

Adrian hadn't moved.

One arm was folded beneath his head, his cheek resting against it. His curls were damp against his forehead, his freckles standing out starkly against skin that had gone almost ghostly pale. His breathing was slow now. Heavy and exhausted.

Cass thought he'd fallen asleep.

Then his eyes cracked open. They found the phone immediately. “Hey.”

“Hi.” The words were almost a whisper. She didn’t know why. There wasn’t anyone in her apartment. She held her phone closer. “How are you feeling?”

Adrian answered by pushing himself up onto his elbows. A quiet grunt escaped him as the movement pulled at the fresh bandage. His hand instinctively found the edge of the table until the discomfort passed. Then he sat the rest of the way up, carrying the phone up with him, and rolling his shoulder once with a faint wince.

"Adrian." Cass frowned. "Would you stop moving?"

He glanced down at the bandage "It's fine."

"You were shot.”

"It's really not that big a deal." He tested his shoulder again, slower this time. "If it'd been somewhere I could actually reach, I would've just taken care of it myself."

Cass stared at him. His gaze wandered around the kitchen. Cass couldn’t see it, but she knew what he was looking at. The overturned chair. The blood-speckled cabinet doors. The drying footprints disappearing into the hallway.

His expression shifted into something that looked suspiciously like guilt. "I should clean this."

"You should sleep."

"After I clean." He slid carefully off the table. It creaked after losing his weight, and he steadied himself with one hand on the edge before bending to gather the discarded supplies. “I kind of owe her.”

“I guess you do,” Cass agreed, watching as he dug underneath the sink and emerged with a bottle of bleach. “She did a really good job. I couldn’t have done that.”

Adrian let out an unamused laugh. “What are you talking about? You would have done great.”

“You’re delusional. I have zero experience in that kind of thing, and you know that.” Cass shook her head. “What would you want me digging around in your back for?”

“I’d rather have your hands all over me than Harcourt’s,” he said matter-of-factly. “I would have talked you through it.”

“You could barely finish telling me about sea cucumbers.”

“Yeah, but still.” He gave a shrug, like that settled the matter. “You’re like the smartest person I know. Everything would have been fine.”

Cass shifted on the end of her couch, the compliment settling somewhere underneath her ribs.

“Well, next time you get shot, maybe call me,” she said in a quiet voice. “I may not be there to mangle your body myself, but maybe I can talk to you while you do it. Ease the pain a bit.”

Adrian’s head lifted and that toothy grin she dreamed about appeared. There was still the hint of blood on his teeth. “That sounds really dope, actually.”

Cass laughed.

***

Cass fumbled her keys twice before finally managing to get the apartment door unlocked. The bottle of wine tucked beneath her arm bumped against the frame as she stumbled inside.

"Hold on," she muttered, laughing to herself. "My building is fighting me."

Through the phone, Adrian snorted. Cass nudged her apartment door shut with her heel and balanced the bottle of wine against her hip as she fumbled her phone into a better position.

"Happy birthday,” he said, as soon as her face entered the screen. “Did you know jellyfish can’t celebrate birthdays? They’re immortal.”

“I think there might be a couple reasons they don’t celebrate birthdays.” Cass moved through her apartment, kicking off her heels as she went. She left them where they fell.

“Yeah, but the immortality is probably the main reason.”

She still wasn't really looking at the screen, but she caught the shift as his attention moved from her face to the bottle tucked beneath her arm.

“I thought you went out for drinks?”

“I did. John took me to a bar down the street.” She tossed her keys on the counter along with a stack of mail, before taking a wine glass down from her cabinet. “On my way home, I decided I wanted more.”

“How much did you already have?”

She gave him a look as she set the phone against the toaster and whatever she had been about to say disappeared.

Adrian had his phone balanced on a workbench in what looked like a basement. A half-built wooden shelving unit stood behind him, scattered with drills, loose hardware, and a tape measure. He was halfway through fastening one of the brackets into place, looking between the shelf and the instructions he'd apparently ignored.

He wasn't wearing his suit or one of the oversized hoodies or sweaters she'd grown used to seeing him in. Just gray sweatpants and a white tank top.

Cass's thoughts came to a complete stop.

He reached overhead to steady the shelf, and the muscles in his arm tightened with the movement. Her gaze caught for one embarrassing second before she jerked it back to the wine bottle.

“What are you building?” Her voice came out higher than she intended. She internally cursed at herself as she poured nearly half the bottle into a single glass. Carefully picking up her phone and sipping on the rim of the glass to not spill a drop, she padded into her dark room.

“I just need some more storage,” Adrain answered. The drill whined for a few seconds before falling quiet. “I’m running out of room down here.”

Cass propped her phone on her bedside table. “Are you in the super secret lair?”

“Maybe.” One corner of his mouth twitched.

She smiled to herself as she wandered toward her dresser.

"I bet you have a secret entrance."

"I use the stairs."

"That's exactly what someone with a secret entrance would say."

Adrian shook his head, smiling as he reached for another bracket. "I think you had too much wine. How did you get home?”

“I walked.”

His head snapped up. “Alone?”

Cass shrugged, her lips on the edge of her wine glass as she crossed the room. She thumbed through her shirts hanging in closet with one hand. Her body was feeling warm. Overly warm. “Maybe I had my date walk me home.”

There was a sharp whirl as the drill slid somewhere it wasn’t supposed to. Cass pulled a shirt from her hanger and turned to see Adrian facing the camera with a frown. “You had a date tonight?”

“No,” she snorted into her wine glass. She tossed the oversized shirt on her bed.

“Good.” Adrian didn’t elaborate. He was still watching her, the shelf forgotten for the first time since she picked up the phone. “You look really nice.”

Cass tilted her head at him and sipped her wine as his face reddened.

“Not that you don't usually look nice. You do. Like-objectively, you always look pretty. Super pretty. Always.” He gestured vaguely with the drill. “Not that you’re just a pretty object. You’re not. You’re a person. You’re a person who looks really good-I mean-fuck.” The hand holding the drill fell limply to his side. “I really like your dress.”

The warmth she'd been blaming on the wine suddenly felt a lot less convincing.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You look nice too.”

He glanced down and his mouth turned. “I do?”

She nodded and set her wine on her dresser. She started to unhook her earrings, her necklace, and the bracelet dangling from her wrist. “Why was good that I didn’t have a date?”

Adrian glanced at her as dug in a toolbox. “What?”

“You said it was good that I didn’t have a date tonight.” She dropped the fistful of jewelry next to her wine glass. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He rummaged around some more. It might have been something off with the camera, but she thought she saw his neck flush a shade of red. “You haven’t been there very long. You don’t need to be dating some guy you just met.”

“It’s been seven months,” she said softly. “You and I only knew each other for eight days.”

“That’s different.”

Cass laughed and grabbed her wine glass. There was another flush of warmth as she took a  sip. “You sound jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

Adrian shook his head, still refusing to look at her.

“I’m concerned.”

“Concerned?”

“Yeah. Just a concerned best friend.”

Cass set the wine down and reached behind herself for the zipper of her dress. The bedroom shifted faintly around her. She steadied herself against the dresser until it stopped. A restless feeling had settled beneath her skin.

“A guy hit on me at the bar,” she said. “John thought it was funny. I thought the guy was gross, but maybe I should’ve given him a chance.”

Adrian finally looked up. “Why?”

Cass dragged the zipper down. “I haven’t had sex in forever.”

The toolbox slipped from Adrian’s hand and landed heavily on the workbench. “You would’ve had sex with him?”

“Probably not.” Cass pushed the dress from her shoulders. It gathered around her waist, exposing the lace of her bra.

“But it’s nice to think about.” She worked the rest of the fabric over her hips. “Having someone take care of me on my birthday.”

The dress pooled around her feet.

When Cass glanced toward the phone, Adrian was still watching her. His eyes moved immediately back to her face. “Is that what you wanted for your birthday?”

“Maybe.” Cass took her wine glass from the dresser and took a long sip. “It would be nice to feel wanted.”

“You should have said something earlier.” He grabbed the phone, moving it closer before he sat on the floor and leaned against the basement wall. His project was now completely forgotten. “I would have done that for you.”

Warmth pooled low in Cass’s stomach.

She became abruptly aware that she was standing in front of him in her underwear. Cass grabbed the shirt from her bed and pulled it over her head.

“You would’ve slept with me just because I asked?”

Adrian considered the question more seriously than she expected.

“Not tonight,” he said. “You’re drunk.”

Cass frowned.

“But if you’d asked me before all the cocktails?” His mouth tilted. “Yeah. Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Definitely.” He shifted the phone against his knee. “Then you wouldn’t have to do it with some random guy from a bar who you already thought was gross.”

Cass climbed onto the bed and stretched across the comforter. The ceiling wavered when she looked up at it. She shut her eyes for several seconds before rolling onto her side to face the phone. Adrian was smiling at her.

“Maybe the gross guy would’ve been really good at it,” she said quietly. “Maybe it would’ve been the best birthday present ever.”

Adrian’s smile disappeared. Cass bit back her own.

“No way.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.” He said it with complete certainty. “It would be better with me.”

Cass propped herself onto one elbow. “You think you know what I’d like?”

“I know I know what you like.” There was no hesitation in his answer. “And whatever I didn’t know, I’d figure out really fast.”

Cass pondered that a minute, studying the screen with a newfound interest.  Maybe it was the wine in her system, or the cocktails she had at the bar, or maybe she was simply just losing all rational thought, but her next question escaped from her lips before she could stop it.

“Do you think it would be good between us?”

“I think it would be fucking amazing.”

There was sharp flash of something low in her stomach. Cass took another sip, her cheeks growing hot. The contents of her glass were running low. “You sound awfully confident.”

“I am.” He rested his forearms on his knees. “We’re best friends. Of course it would be great between us. We know everything about each other.”

Cass laughed softly. "That's not really how that works."

"Why not?"

"Because knowing I hate mushrooms doesn't magically make someone good in bed."

"No, but knowing you hate mushrooms means I pay attention." Adrian raised a brow, like the connection as obvious. "I'd pay attention to everything else, too."

Cass looked down into her wine, suddenly finding the off white liquid incredibly interesting. Her next question she didn’t really even want to know the answer to, because she knew there was a possibility it would hurt her feelings. Trying to her tone as neutral a possible, she kept her eyes on the swirling liquid as she asked. “When was the last time you-you know-you were with someone?”

She couldn’t help the swirling feeling of unease in her chest. Adrian glanced up at the ceiling, thinking, and that was all it took for her imagination to get the best of her.

A faceless woman appeared in Cass's mind, her hands tangled in the curls at the back of his neck, laughing at something he'd said. Someone he'd smiled at the way he smiled at her.

Cass took too large a sip of wine and immediately coughed.

“Uh, a while,” he said, mouth pulling. “I think it was the night before we met actually.”

Cass froze. The unease disappeared as quickly as it appeared and was replaced with genuine shock. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. It was with Peacemaker and some chick he met the day before-.”

“Adrian!” Her mouth split into an amused smile and she shoved her up in a sitting position. “You did not have a threesome with Chris.”

“Yeah, I did.” His brows came together and he looked horribly confused. “Why are you laughing?”

Cass covered her mouth with her palm and swallowed down the giggles that were trying to escape. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I just can’t believe you had a threesome with one of our friends and never told me!”

“It never came up,” he said, a little defensively. Cass covered another laugh. “Besides, there’s not much to tell. It wasn’t even very good.”

“Oh.” Cass grimaced. “Did the girl not…” she waved her hand and Adrian understood immediately.

“No, she had a great time. Trust me. I just-.” He looked off from the camera, his mouth turning. “I don’t like it when they focus on me. I always wish that part would go by faster.”

Cass settled on her knees. The t-shirt did nothing to cover her bare legs as she looked carefully at the screen. “Do you not like having sex?”

“No, I like sex,” he answered quickly. “I just like making the other person feel good. As soon as they start touching me though-.” He gave an involuntarily shudder.

Cass considered those words, then finished the last of her wine. She carefully set the empty glass with her phone, before resting her hands by her scar. Her fingers gently fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

“Has anyone ever asked what you wanted?”

“Not really.”

“What if I asked?”

Adrian’s gaze snapped back to hers. Cass didn’t miss the way his throat bobbed or the way the muscle on the side of his jaw tightened. The imaginary line they’d been playing with for months was finally in danger of being crossed.

Cass supposed she should probably feel embarrassed about her question, but she couldn’t. Not with the way Adrian was staring at her through the phone screen.

It would be fucking amazing.

Adrian’s mouth opened like he was about to answer, when off screen there was a loud groan of metal. His brow furrowed and his head whipped toward the sound before the crash even came. The unfinished shelving unit collided into eh concrete floor. Adrian cursed and the video blurred as he jumped to his feet. Cass got a glimpse of scattered nails, a tipped over box of tools, and even what she thought might have been a handgun.

The screen went dark and the call disconnected.

Cass stared at her own reflection.

Then the screen went black and the call disconnected.

Cass stared at her own reflection.

The empty wineglass stood on the nightstand. Her dress remained crumpled on the floor. The curtains fluttered gently beside the open window, carrying in the first warm breeze of spring.

Cass replayed the conversation. Again. And again until she sank slowly against the pillows. Her skin felt too warm for the cool air moving through the room.

Adrian would pay attention.

He would notice when she became nervous before she said a word. If something hurt, he would stop. He would ask questions. He would make one of his terrible jokes if she became trapped inside her own thoughts.

He would care.

That realization was infinitely more dangerous than his broad shoulders, the curls she had imagined beneath another woman’s hands, or the fact that Cass now knew exactly what his arms looked like beneath all those oversized hoodies.

She pressed a pillow over her face.

The image of Adrian in the basement returned anyway. Gray sweatpants. White tank top. The flush rising along his neck when she accused him of being jealous.

Cass released a muffled groan into the pillow.

When she finally lowered it, her gaze drifted toward the dark phone screen.

She was moving into dangerous, irreversible territory and all Cass could think was that Adrian had been right.

It would be fucking amazing.

***

Cass didn’t have nightmares very often anymore.

Turns out, once the butterfly threat was eradicated and Adrian brutally murdered the only man who scared her, she didn’t have much to have nightmares about, but like anyone else, they still came occasionally.

 She shot upright in bed. Pieces of her hair stuck to her sweaty face and the sheets pooled around her waist. Despite her window being cracked, allowing the late spring breeze to filter in, her skin was clammy. Too warm.

It was too early for the sun to be breaking the horizon. The only light came from the faint glow of her phone, propped against the lamp. She blinked at it once, confused, then remembered the whispered conversation she’d been having as she crawled into bed.

"Cassie?" The voice on the phone was thick with sleep.

"Yeah?" she pressed a hand to her racing heart.

There was a long yawn on the other end of the line. "You okay?”

She nodded, although she realized fairly quickly, he probably couldn’t see her that well. “I’m fine. Bad dream.”

There was a groan, followed by rustle of blankets. “What was it?”

“I don’t really remember,” she answered, honestly. The details were already slipping away. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, pulling it away from her face. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.”

He didn't hang up. Cass waited, watching his faint outline on the screen. His breathing never deepened.

"You're still awake."

"Only a little bit,” he huffed, voice muffled by his pillow. He shifted and a glimpse of a bare shoulder appeared as he rolled over. Cass wondered if he’d removed his shirt after she fell asleep.

"Just go back to sleep."

"I'm trying if you would quit talking to me.”

Cass snorted, but it wasn't enough to ease the sick feeling in her chest.

The sound of Adrian breathing filled her bedroom. Cass concentrated on it until the frantic rhythm of her own heart began to slow, gradually falling into time with his.

She had become frighteningly accustomed to this.

Falling asleep together through a screen had become part of their routine over the past few weeks. Sometimes they talked until one of them stopped answering. Other nights, Adrian rambled about something incomprehensible while Cass drifted off, only for her to wake hours later and discover the call still connected.

At first, it had helped.

His voice softened the ache that followed every goodbye. His face on her nightstand made the apartment feel less empty.

His voice softened the loneliness that followed every goodbye. Seeing his face on the nightstand made the apartment feel a little less empty.

Lately, it wasn't enough anymore.

Cass watched the slow rise and fall of his back.

She knew this version of him almost by heart now. The curls flattened against his forehead. The way he pulled the blankets almost to his chin before kicking them away again. The crease the pillow left across his cheek every morning.

She knew all these little things She just couldn't reach any of them.

Without thinking, she stretched her hand across the empty mattress beside her.

Cold sheets met her fingertips.

The distance between them suddenly felt impossible. Hundreds of miles. A phone screen. A voice compressed into a tiny speaker.

She knew what Adrian sounded like half asleep. She knew the rhythm of his breathing. She knew how his face softened when he laughed until his shoulders shook, how he absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck whenever he was embarrassed, and the boyish grin that spread across his face whenever he was ready for a fight. She knew the quiet, almost unsettling seriousness that settled over him when his thoughts drifted away from her and back to the vigilante beneath the suit.

She knew which jokes he laughed at before anyone else. She knew the little sigh he'd let out when he finally relaxed after a long day. She knew him well enough to hear the difference between the voice he used for everyone else and the softer one he saved for her.

Cass knew him.

She just didn't know what it felt like to have him here.

The thought hollowed her out.

She tried to imagine waking up and finding him asleep beside her, curled beneath the blankets a few inches away. Maybe he'd roll over, still half asleep, and blink at her for a second before smiling.

"You okay?"

The same question he'd asked only moments ago through a phone speaker, except h wouldn’t be on the other side of the country. He would just be there. He would be so close she wouldn’t have to imagine what his voice would sound like in her room.

He would just be there.

The thought hit her so suddenly it stole the air from her lungs.

She wanted that.

God, she wanted that. She wanted it so unbeliably bad the thought cracked something inside her chest.

Her throat tightened.

She realized she had spent months convincing herself that what she missed was their friendship.

Friendship wasn't what made the bed feel so unbearably large.

Friendship wasn't what made every goodbye ache a little more than the last.

She wanted him close enough that reaching for him didn't require a phone.

Her fingers curled into the sheets.

She missed him with a kind of loneliness she'd never known another person could cause.

She knew Adrian more intimately than she had ever known anyone. She knew what frightened him, what made him laugh, and which parts of himself he hid behind enthusiasm and terrible jokes.

But every important moment still ended the same way.

One of them hung up.

One of them said goodbye.

One of them fell asleep alone.

Cass looked at the glowing rectangle on her nightstand.

The ache in her chest deepened until it was almost difficult to breathe.

She closed her eyes.

For one impossible second, she tried to imagine that when she reached across the bed, she'd find warmth instead of cold sheets.

She already knew she wouldn't.

That was somehow the worst part.

***

Cass sent in her third request to work remotely on a hot afternoon in June. She was just stepping into a meeting.

When she got out of her meeting, Rick Flag Sr., the director of ARGUS, was waiting at her desk.

taglist: @tez0

[auddy-95]

In The Silence With You

Chapter 9

Pairing: Adrian Chase/female original character

Summary: A rewrite of season 1 and 2, with a new member of the team.

Cass was assigned to Project Butterfly because she had a problem with following orders. With her personal life crumbling around her, she finds comfort in an unlikely team member. Vigilante. 18+

Words: 7.2k

ao3 link

previous chapters

Cass surfaced slowly.

At first, there was only sound. A steady beeping somewhere nearby. The distant squeak of wheels rolling across the floor. Voices murmuring beyond a closed door. The smell of bleach and astringent burned in her nose.

Then came the pain.

It hit all at once, blooming through her body in a dozen different places. Her chest ached. Her shoulder felt like someone had driven a railroad spike through it. Every breath pulled at bruised ribs.

Cass forced her eyes open.

The room was dim, lit only by the weak glow of a lamp in the corner. White ceiling tiles came into focus first, followed by the blurry outline of hospital equipment. A wire hung from her hand and an IV line twisted around her arm. She shifted slightly, feeling a heavy weight on one of her legs.

Reality slammed into her.

The gunfire. The deep, crimson stain on Harcourt’s shirt. Her thigh exploding in pain. The teal and black suit in the grass.

Cass launched upwards. Pain splintered through her body as the memories crashed over her. A monitor beside the bed erupted into frantic beeping. Her ribs protested with every panicked breath that tore through her lungs.

"Hey. Relax." A familiar voice cut through the panic. "If you freak out too much, one of the nurses is going to come back in here. They already don't like me."

Cass whipped her head toward the sound, the oxygen tubing tugging against her face.

Adrian.

He was slouched in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside her bed, his forearms resting on the raised bed rail. His brown curls were free of blood and dirt. The suit was gone and in its place was a maroon sweatshirt and jeans.

Cass stared and his toothy grin grew wider.

The rush of relief that followed nearly knocked the breath from her.

“Adrian?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah?” His smile fell by a fraction. The green eyes widened behind his glasses. “Oh, shit you don’t have brain damage from the blood loss, do you? The doctor swore you’d be fine when you woke up.”

“No.” She shook her head and let out another breath. “No. You were dead.”

"What?" He blinked at her before letting out a short laugh. "I didn't die."

“I saw it! You got hit in the spine! You fell over and I thought you and Harcourt-.” Cass froze. A new panic gripped her chest. “Oh my God. Emilia. What happened? Where-?”

"She's alive," he said firmly. "Chris got her out. She was in surgery for a while, but the doctors think she's going to be okay."

Cass searched his face. "You’re sure?"

"They're keeping her asleep for now, but she should be good as new as soon as they decide to let her wake up.” He paused a moment. “Well, maybe after some pretty intense physical therapy.”

She slumped back onto the stiff bed. The hospital grade pillow crinkled under her head. “Everyone else? John? Chris and Ads? Did they do it?”

“Oh, yeah. The cow is super dead.” He grinned. “Kind of bummed I didn’t get to see it, but you know.” He gestured vaguely to her. “Other priorities and all.”

Cass shook her head again, staring at the white tiles above her head as she tried to piece together the memories. “So, you-you got me out of there?”

Adrian nodded, shifting again in his seat. His hands fidgeted on her railing. “Yeah. I was out of it for a few minutes, but when I came to, Chris was coming out of the barn. You and Harcourt were-.” He swallowed thickly. “You were covered in so much blood I thought it was too late. I thought that bullet might have hit something unfixable.”

Cass raised a hand, gently catching the edge of his sleeve. Adrian glanced down before turning his attention back to her.

"What did it hit?"

"Nicked your femur. Punched through one of the branches off your femoral artery." His voice stayed remarkably even. "If it'd hit the main artery..." He swallowed. "You would've bled out before I even woke up."

His hand turned over beneath hers, naturally folding around her fingers.

"How do you know all that?"

"I asked Economos to hack into your chart."

Cass felt the corner of her mouth twitch. She squeezed his hand gently.

"I think you're lying to me about being shot."

His fingers stiffened around hers. “What?”

"Adrian." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I saw you get shot in the back."

“Yeah, I know I did,” he said in a low voice. He sounded genuinely confused. “I never I said I didn’t. I just said I didn’t die.”

“It was in your spine!” she said in a desperate whisper. “I saw you dig it out myself. People don’t survive that and if they do, they’re paralyzed for life-.”

“I got admitted and everything. I swear.” He gripped her hand a little tighter. “I mean, I did kind of sneak out the window after a quick nap because I couldn’t really have the people here figuring out who I was, but I’m not lying.”

"No, I saw you fall over." Tears burned behind her eyes. She yanked her hand free of his and angrily wiped one away. "I argued with you. I kept fighting you because I thought I was saving Harcourt, and all I did was get you shot!  I spent what I thought the last thing I did on this earth was get both of you killed!"

Another tear escaped and Cass sniffled, fighting the wavering in her jaw.

"You kind of did."

Cass stared at him.

"You almost got Harcourt killed,” he admitted, before wincing. "You almost got yourself killed too and then I got shot." He frowned, clearly trying to organize the timeline in his head. "I don’t know. I probably could have just thrown you over my shoulder or something or moved a little faster.” His eyes flickered to hers. “You were really unhelpful though.”

“You weren’t listening to me,” Cass argued, irritation flaring into anger. “She was so much worse than I was. I had a way better chance waiting in that clearing than she did, and you just didn’t care. I needed you to help her and you wouldn’t.” Her voice shook. “I was already falling apart because I thought she was dying because of me, and then you got shot.” She swallowed hard. “You just... folded. Right in front of me.” Her breathing hitched. “I thought I killed both of you and you’re sitting there, perfectly fine, and acting like it isn’t a big deal!”

Adrian frowned. “Are you mad at me for not dying?”

"No!" Cass snapped.

He just stared at her.

"I-I don't know!" She scrubbed another tear away, only for two more to replace it. "I'm mad because I thought you were dead! I’m mad Harcourt is in some stupid coma. I’m mad I was an idiot and didn’t just let you leave that goddamn field.”

Tears fell in a silent, steady stream. She kept her eyes tight on the monitor on the wall, refusing to look at the chair beside her. The monitor beeped several times before she continued.

“You really scared me.”

“Yeah, well you really freaked me out too,” Adrian countered. His hands gripped the railing beside her. “So, maybe next time I’m trying to keep you from bleeding out in front of me, don’t fight me like a fucking feral alley cat.”

The tears she'd been trying so desperately to keep quiet escaped anyway. One shaky breath became another. Then, her chest hitched and suddenly she couldn’t stop the ugly sobs from tearing through her lungs. Cass covered her face as her chest heaved and tears stained her hospital gown. Adrian’s voice broke through the crying.

“Oh, shit.” Adrian’s chair scraped across the floor. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse. I’m going-.”

She blindly reached out, grabbing a fistful of his sweatshirt.

“Don’t go,” she begged through her tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t go.”

"No, no, I'm here," he said quickly, the words tumbling over each other. His hand overlapped hers and his thumb rubbed once over her knuckles. "I'm not-I just thought I was making it worse." He swallowed. "You just-I just really need you to tell me what to do here, Cassie."

The nickname again.

“Nothing.” Cass swallowed hard. “Just please don’t leave me.”

His brow furrowed. She pulled slightly on the sweatshirt. Adrian understood immediately. He let out an unamused laugh as looked down at the narrow bed. "Um, I'm pretty sure these things are built for one person."

“Adrian, please.”

There was a second of hesitation. “You’ve got all those cords on you and your leg-I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Adrian.” She knotted her fingers tightly into his front, uncaring that her request was selfish and childish. “Please.”

He carefully pried one of her hands loose, keeping the other clasped in his as he awkwardly climbed over the rail. He nearly bumped her IV line with his elbow, muttered a horrified, "Oh, shit, sorry," untangled himself from the oxygen tubing by pure luck, and finally managed to lower himself onto the narrow strip of mattress beside her.

One of his legs dangled off the side of the bed and his shoulder was half off the mattress. After settling, he flashed her a proud smile.

Cass breathed a shaky laugh, before settling against him. She still couldn’t turn as she wished, but she was able to tuck her head against the maroon sweatshirt. She could feel the damp spot from her tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But you can’t die in front of me again.”

“Only if you never beg me to leave you behind again.” Cass felt his arm shift over her. “Because that was a really shitty thing to ask me.”

Cass swallowed, reaching to once again hold onto his sweatshirt. He propped his head up on his elbow beside her and Cass ducked her face into his side. “I’m sorry for that too.”

“You should know, though.” Adrian paused and let out a heavy breath. He wasn’t looking at her face. One of his hands rested near her collarbone, absently fidgeting with the edge of her hospital gown. “I wasn’t ever going to take Harcourt before you. I wasn’t even considering it.

Cass closed her eyes, resting her forehead on the crook of his arm. “I know.”

The monitor on the wall continued to beep. Outside the room, a cart rattled by. Cass listened to the muffle voices of a few hospital staff until they drifted away.

“Do you think the nurses would let me go see her?” Cass asked, in a soft voice. “I could use a wheelchair or something. I don’t want her to be alone.”

“Maybe during visiting hours.” His fingers moved over her gown, before settling gently over her hip. “I wouldn’t worry about her being alone though. Chris is with her.”

“isn’t it visiting hours now?”

“No, it’s five in the morning.”

Cass’s eyes shot open. “How are you in here right now?”

“I came in through the window,” he answered easily. “They keep kicking me out, though. One of the nurses threatened to call the cops, but her shift ended, so we're probably fine.”

“You broke into the hospital?”

“Broke in is a strong way of putting it,” Adrian frowned. “I mean, the window was already unlocked.”

Cass laughed, her throat still raw from crying, and absently smoothed a hand over the front of his sweatshirt. “You said Chris is with Harcourt?”

“Mhm.” Adrian adjusted himself on the narrow mattress, turning more fully onto his side. “I think they have something going on. He was in the waiting room the entire time she was in surgery and then went straight to her room as soon as they let him.”

“Really?” Cass glanced up at him. Despite the lingering pain webbing its way through her body, a smile tugged on her lips. “How do you know that?”

“Because I was in the waiting room.” His thumb absently brushed against her hip. “I was waiting for them to let me see you.”

“Hm.” Cass closed her eyes, shifting back against him. “Is that strange?”

“Which part?”

“That your best friend has a crush and hasn’t told you yet?”

“Not really. Chris doesn’t talk to me very much.” The thumb on her hip paused. “And I don’t think Chris is my best friend anymore.”

Cass didn’t say anything to that. She let her eyes rest and simply took in the gentle feel of his hand occasionally skimming over the blanket. Adrian kept talking. What it was, exactly, she wasn’t sure because she was far too content and comfortable to pay close attention. It wasn’t until several minutes passed like that, when she realized his voice had stopped and he’d asked her a question.

“Sorry. What?” she blinked, raising her head to look at him. “What did you say?”

“What are the touching rules?” He gave a gentle tap of his thumb against her hip, not enough pressure to trigger any pain. “You haven’t said if any of this is okay?”

She could have rolled her eyes at the innocence of it. To save his feelings, she didn’t. Cass settled back against him. “Of course it is. I pulled you into the bed, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’ve had my hands all over you without really thinking about it-.”

“That’s how physical intimacy works, Adrian,” she deadpanned into his side.

A beat passed. “Do you like it?"

Cass looked up at him again. His eyes were so wide with uncertainty that he looked genuinely concerned that she might not.

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "Do you like it?"

"I think so." He considered the question with complete seriousness. "Yeah. I really like it."

"Good." She tucked herself a little closer against his side. "Me too."

Adrian nodded immediately. "Okay."

Cass was quiet for a minute, listing to the thudding of his heartbeat. She found her eyelids growing heavy and she had the vague wonder of how many pain killers she was on.

"Are you staying?" she asked.

She felt his head angle down to her. “Duh.”

"What if they kick you out again?”

“As long as no one locks the window we’re fine.” Her body shifted slightly as he shrugged. “Actually, I take that back. A locked window has never stopped me before.”

Silence settled over the room again. The monitor continued its steady rhythm. Adrian's thumb traced absent little circles through the blanket over her hip, not even seeming aware he was doing it.

Cass watched him for another few seconds.

She wanted to fall asleep like that, but one thought kept tugging at the back of her mind. She thought she had decided to put it away, forget about it until another time, but sleep wouldn’t come to her.

Not until she got him to admit it.

“Adrian?” she asked again, the words mumbled against the fabric of his hoodie. She felt his chin tilt down to her. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

The arm she was tucked into tightened slightly on her shoulder. His hand fell, lightly toying with the sleeve of her hospital gown. “What’s up?”

“Why haven’t you told the others you’re a metahuman?”

The heartbeat in her ear exploded. The hand on her gown stilled.

For several long seconds, Adrian didn’t say anything. Cass waited. She traced a finger along the string of his hoodie, pretending she couldn’t tell he was having an existential crisis.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not stupid,” she said, in a quiet, but sharp voice. She tugged lightly on the string. “You took two grenades at your feet and a bullet to the spine in the same twenty-four hours. I watched you start to die each time, but-.” She finally looked up at them. His eyes were wide. Panicked. “-you never did.”

“Maybe my armor is just really good.”

“Maybe I watched you dig the bloody bullet out myself, so I know you’re lying. I know you can heal.” Cass held the front of his hoodie tightly. “Is it the sleep that does it?”

“I don’t know. Everyone heals, Cassie.”

“Not like you,” she retorted, quietly. “You were bleeding out in my lap in that car and then a few minutes after passing out, you were so much better. The again in the field, you passed out and anyone else would have bled out but you were apparently able to carry me out there and get me here.”

“I don’t know,” he repeated quickly. “I really don’t. If I did, I’d tell you. I just know that if something happens and I fall asleep, it’s not as bad when I wake up.”

Cass raised herself on her hands, pressing them against his chest. She looked at him, her mind racing with a million questions. “You have scars, though. You’re covered in them. I saw them.”

“Yeah. Shit still hurts.” Adrian shifted beneath her. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of her blanket. “The big stuff doesn’t kill me like it should, though, and the little stuff heals faster than it does for everyone else.” He flashed a wide grin. “Makes my favorite hobby a whole lot easier.”

Cass stared at him, then raised a fist and hit him square in the chest.

“Ow!” Adrian frowned.

“You absolute asshole!”

“What?”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Her voice rose despite herself. “You were bleeding out in my lap! I watched you get shot in the back! I thought you were dying!”

“Well,” Adrian scratched the back of his neck. “I was kind of dying. I just very conveniently stopped dying.”

Cass hit him again.

“Jeus Christ, quit hitting me! I thought cuddling meant the fight was over!”

She raised the hand again, but he caught her wrist.

“All this time I’ve been having mental breakdowns over your well being and you’ve been completely fine!”

“You know, getting shot in the base of my spine still fucking hurts even if it doesn’t kill me.” His fingers flexed around her wrist. “If I let go, will you stop waving this thing around? You’re going to rip out your IV and then the nurses really will hate me.”

Cass glowered and snatched her wrist from his grasp. “Did it not occur to you, at all, to maybe mention everything was going to be okay with you? Maybe when I was dragging you to that car? Or taking the time to clean what I thought were life threatening injuries? You never thought to fill me in that you would be okay?”

“Not really.” Adrian’s answer was blunt and the hurt must have been evident on Cass’s face because he immediately began stammering over a string of words. “No one has ever noticed before, so I didn’t think-listen, I’ve never told anybody-not ever-not even Peacemaker-.”

“I understand wanting to have secrets, Adrian.” Cass tugged lightly on his sweatshirt to interrupt him. “We haven’t known each other very long and that’s a really big secret to have, but-,” she swallowed and chose her words carefully. “There are people out there who care about you. So, maybe, if you’re bleeding out on one of them and they’re covered in your blood, fill them in that don’t need to be so worried, okay?”

Adrian nodded, but an unreadable expression crossed over his features. Cass had more questions. So many more questions swirled in her mind, but her head was heavy from painkillers, her leg hurt, and her eyes were tired from crying. She laid back down, finding Adrian’s heartbeat once again and let her eyes fall shut.

“So, you’re done hitting me, right?”

***

On her second day in the hospital, the others came to see her. Chris hugged her tight enough that her bruised ribs burned. Ads gave her gentle fist bump, smiling sheepishly when Cass praised her taking out the cow. John simply gripped her shoulder, in an oddly affectionate way and Adrian was just there. Whether he was in the visitor's chair, perched on the edge of her bed, or somehow crammed onto the mattress beside her, he didn't leave her during those vulnerable first days.

Harcourt still hadn’t woken up.

It took three days before a physical therapist helped Cass stand for the first time. Adrian, whom she'd finally bullied into leaving long enough to shower and work a dinner shift so his manager wouldn't fire him, was downright insulted she'd done something that important without him.

To make up for it, she let him pick the movie they watched that night, after visiting hours when he wasn’t supposed to be there. He must have forgiven her because she’d gone to sleep with the feeling of fingers twisting on the ends of her hair.

Harcourt still hadn’t woken up.

On the fourth day, Cass was allowed to try to walk across the room with a walker. Her repaired leg trembled and fought against her weight, but she managed to make it to the doorway on her own. It was on the way back to the safety of her bed, that her leg shook so badly and pain became so unbearable, that one of her hands abandoned the walker entirely. She latched onto Adrian’s sleeve, knowing he was somewhere nearby.

While he braced his arm under her grip to support her weight, he’d told her she looked like shit. The therapist laughed. Cass didn't. She made him spend the night in the visitor's chair.

It wasn’t until she woke in the middle of the night and saw him half-asleep in the uncomfortable chair, she quietly scooted over and whispered his name. He climbed in next to her without a word and Cass clung to his sweater, falling asleep to his heartbeat in her ears.

Harcourt still hadn’t woken up.

On the fifth day, the television played Ads’ press conference from the day before on a constant loop. It made international news overnight, successfully saving Chris’s reputation and outing her mother and her questionable ethics to the entire world.

On the other side of her room, Chris was frantically looking for the remote.

"It's already loud enough," John groaned from his position on the windowsill. “Just leave it alone.”

"I want to hear Ads ruin Amanda Waller's life." Chris produced the remote from under his own chair, that he’d stolen from the nurses’ station, before clicking the buttons. Ad’s staticky voice filled the room.

“Ugh, no Chris. Shut it off.” Ads’ mouth turned from her spot beside John. “I hate the way I sound.”

Cass smiled to herself. Beside her, Adrian shifted in his chair. Although his attention was on the television with everyone else, his chair remained turned toward her bed. His arms were leaning heavily on the railing. One hand trailed over her bare knee, drawing pictures. Cass thought she felt a star. Then, a diamond.

She didn't think anything of it.

Since climbing into her hospital bed that first night, Adrian had developed an unconscious habit of touching her. Cass didn’t understand it, but she didn’t question it either. She didn’t mind it when his fingers found the ends of her fawn-colored hair or when his hand laced through hers and held her fingers tightly. The other day, her hospital gown had slipped over her shoulder, and she’d caught him mapping her skin imperfections that were exposed.

She didn’t think he ever noticed he was doing it.

His fingertips drifted idly back over her knee, skimming slightly higher.

“Did you see that pigeon in the background?” he asked from beside her, watching the television with a raised brow. Everyone else ignored him.

Cass settled on the raised mattress. “No, I missed it. Was it a cool one?”

“So fucking cool.” His hand moved, dipping once below her knee, before moving to cup it from behind. Cass glanced to it for a moment, before looking back at the screen. “Pigeons are like crazy smart. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

The hand moved again, sliding back around to the front of her leg, before inching higher. There was the gentle prod of his fingertips until he reached the hem of her hospital gown. Cass felt him catch it between two fingers, while a third moved over her bruised skin.

“Yeah, they can recognize themselves in a mirror. Isn’t that neat?”

“Adrian, shut the fuck up about the goddamn pigeon,” Chris ordered, without looking away from the screen. Ads tossed a crumbled piece of food trash at him.

Cass glared at the back of Chris’s head. “What else do you know about pigeons?”

“Well.” He let go of the hospital gown, his hand disappearing entirely under the garment. He was still watching the tv, likely waiting to see if the bird would reappear. Cass swallowed as his hand found the edge of her dressings. They gently moved along the perimeter. “They’re the only birds that can produce milk.”

John let out a heavy groan. “Why are you making shit up?”

“I’m not!” Adrian argued loudly. “Pigeons produce milk!”

“No fucking bird produces milk, dipshit.”

His hand was still moving. It traced the edge of her dressing. Cass swiftly looked at the other faces in the room and found, thankfully, no one was turned their way. With flush creeping up her neck, she carefully grabbed her hospital blanket and casually draped it over her lap.

She had no idea what Adrian was doing but whatever it is, she wasn’t interested in it becoming a group topic.

“-the milk as so many fucking antibodies in it could probably end cancer or something.”

“Now I know you’re making shit up because that’s the dumbest-.”

Cass’s teeth dug into the inside of her cheeks. Adrian’s hand had shifted positions, splaying out wide across her thigh. His fingertips curled experimentally against the edge of the dressing, curling to the inside of her leg.

Heat flooded her face.

“Adrian!” Cass hissed the words, her hand lashing out to grab him around the wrist. Her eyes shot to the others in the room. Thankfully, the blaring television and the ongoing argument about pigeon milk had everyone's attention but theirs.

Adrian’s gaze landed on her eyes and his brows pulled together. His hand froze on her upper thigh. “What?”

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

"Well-," His brow furrowed. "Your femoral artery runs down the inside of your thigh." He tapped lightly against the edge of the dressing. "The bullet hit one of the branches, not the main one, so they would've opened you up-." His fingertip drifted another fraction of an inch, then gave a gentle tap. ".-somewhere around here."

“Okay,” Cass said in a quiet voice, trying to ignore the sensation of his fingers skimming lightly over her bandaged stitches. “Is there a reason for the hands-on anatomy lesson?

"I was trying to figure out how many stitches they used."

Cass gaped at him. “Why?”

“I forgot.”

She didn’t have a good response to that. She took a deep breath to calm the racing in her heart and moved his hand back down her leg. She forced it to rest on her knee. “You can’t do that when everyone else is in the room.”

Adrian looked around at their friends, who were still oblivious to the fact he’d been feeling her up, before back at her leg. His mouth turned. “Well, can I do it when they leave?”

“Sure,” she sighed.

Cass wondered, silently, how long it would be before it started absentmindedly drifting again. A knock interrupted her thoughts. A nurse peeked into the room, pleasant expression and clipboard in hand.

“Mr. Smith?” she asked.

Chris turned, the television forgotten.

“We were looking for you in the waiting room, but they told us we’d find you in here.” She motioned for him to follow. “Ms. Harcourt is awake now.”

***

It had taken three nurses to convince Adrian that Cass wasn't allowed to walk to Harcourt's room. His counterargument, that he'd simply carry her, had somehow made them even less enthusiastic. In the end, they struck a compromise.

Cass got a wheelchair and Adrian had to promise he wasn’t to carry her around between departments or they were going to call security.

Adrian looked personally victimized by the entire arrangement.

“I still don’t understand why they trust the wheelchair more than me,” he muttered, pushing her out of the elevator. His grip tightened on the handles. “I have hands. The wheelchair doesn’t.”

Cass didn’t answer.

Harcourt still looked like she'd been hit by a truck.

She was propped up against a mountain of pillows, an oxygen tube tucked beneath her nose, bruises blooming across the parts of her skin the hospital gown didn't cover. Even smiling looked like it hurt.

She was smiling anyway.

Chris had somehow worked himself into the chair closest to her bed.

"I'm just saying," he declared, gesturing animatedly, "the ending was badass. The six of us coming out of that barn covered in blood? Well-four of us. Two of you were unconscious, but you were there in spirit. It looked like the coolest fucking action movie ever made."

Cass looked up from her wheelchair. "Emilia and I were actively dying."

Chris waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, but aesthetically?"

Harcourt rolled her eyes, wincing slightly when the movement pulled the stitches on her brow. "I'm glad my near-death experience looked cool for you."

"It really did," Chris nodded. "You looked metal as fuck."

Another round of laughter circled the room. Cass laughed too, her shoulder bumping lightly against Adrian's side. His hand adjusted automatically, sliding a little farther around her shoulder to steady her before resuming its lazy circles.

The laughter died down and after clearing her throat, Harcourt looked toward John. Her eyes looked tired. "When are you heading back?"

John rubbed the back of his neck. "Soon. They're just waiting on Cass's discharge paperwork." Cass's smile lingered for another second, then John continued. "As soon as she's cleared to fly, ARGUS wants us back at headquarters."

Silence.

Not actual silence. The others were still talking, laughing. Chris made some joke that had Ads grinning and rolling her eyes, but the ringing in Cass’s ears was so loud, she didn’t hear any of it.

Cass felt Adrian's hand stop moving on her shoulder.

The room continued around them. Chris said something. John answered. Someone laughed. She couldn't hear any of it.

Her eyes lifted. Adrian was already looking at her. The smile had vanished so completely it stole the breath from her lungs.

Neither of them spoke.

His hand never left her shoulder.

***

Adrian felt sick.

It was real fucking annoying too, because he didn’t really understand what it was or what was causing it, but he felt hollow. Nauseous, maybe, too. The worst part was, every time he looked into Cass’s sleeping face, it got worse. It felt like somebody kept slowly pushing a knife between his ribs.

Which was total bullshit. He'd had knives between his ribs before.

Those hurt less.

The nurses had stopped pretending they could keep everyone out after visiting hours. Around nine o'clock they'd make a half-hearted sweep through the floor, remind everyone of the rules, and then quietly ignore the fact that four extra people never actually left. Given that Harcourt had spent five days in a medically induced coma, her nurses were far more strict than Cass’s. So, once night fell, the hospital room got a little crowded.

John had stolen the second recliner.

Adebayo sat cross-legged on the windowsill, absently scrolling through her phone.

Chris had somehow convinced a nurse to bring him two extra pudding cups, then loudly complained that neither of them was chocolate.

Cass, who was still on a heavy dose of painkillers, slept through all of it. She’d tried to stay awake. It was her last night in the hospital. The doctor had come by earlier and told her as long as nothing changed in the night, there was no reason Cass couldn’t be discharged in the morning.

ARGUS had been clear about their expectations. As soon as the discharge papers were in her hands, they expected her and John back on their way to headquarters.

Adrian looked at her sleeping face.

There it was again. That feeling. That stupid, fucking feeling that gave him an overwhelming urge to throw her over his shoulder and take her somewhere ARGUS would never fucking find her.

His fingers lazily traced small circles around the inside of her wrist where it rested on top of the blanket. Every so often his thumb swept across the back of her hand before settling again.

Maybe getting shot had scrambled something in his brain or those two grenades did more damage than he originally thought. Maybe there'd been some kind of butterfly juice in the air after the barn exploded that made everybody act strange.

That last one actually sounded pretty likely, because Cass had been acting weird too.

She barely looked at him afterward.

Normally she'd glance at him whenever somebody said something ridiculous, like she expected him to have an opinion. She'd roll her eyes at Peacemaker with him or smile whenever he said something that made absolutely no sense.

But after John said ARGUS wanted her back, she’d looked at him exactly once and she had that wide, terrified look in her eyes that made them look impossibly large.

He hated that look.

She had when he found her on the floor of her motel room, then again when blood was poured freely from her leg. She had it when her hands found his sweatshirt, and she begged him not to leave her.

The look was the worst.

The only time she'd spoken to him was when he'd carried her from the wheelchair back into bed before everyone returned to her room. He'd been trying to avoid bumping her IV against the bedrail when she'd quietly reminded him, "Remember. Bed rule."

He'd frowned. "It's a dumb rule."

"I don’t care,” she’d told him defiantly, but with a hint of smirk on her lips. He hadn’t let go of her yet and was painfully aware of her fingers still clinging to the back of his t-shirt. “Unless you want to be kicked out onto the curb, you’ll follow it.”

Then she smiled and it made that stupid warm feeling appear in his chest that made him want to do whatever she said. He reluctantly settled into the visitor’s chair. The stupid, fucking visitors chair whose maker he was going to personally introduce to the sharp end of his sword.

Adrian still didn't understand it.

He just knew he liked being close to her. Apparently, there were rules about that now when other people were around.

The bed rule fucking suck.

The sick feeling in his chest fucking sucked.

Not understanding any of it sucked the most.

“Dude, quit being fucking weird.”

Adrian looked up. Peacemaker was looking at him, his face turned as he nodded towards where Adrian’s hand was overlapping Cass’s.

“What?”

“The touching.” Chris shook his head. “You’ve been so far up her ass this week. It’s fucking weird. Bottle that shit up.”

Adrian frowned to himself, his thumb still absently brushing across her knuckles. Cass wouldn’t want him to stop. “She likes it when I do this and I haven’t been anywhere near her ass. She hasn’t said anything about her ass in the touching rules.”

John turned around and Ads looked up from her phone. “The touching rules?”

“Yeah.” Adrian slid his thumb over the pulse point on Cass’s wrist. “I wasn't sure where I was allowed to touch her, so I asked. She said if we both like it, then it's fine.”

“Fuck me, you were right Economos.” Chris groaned, turning away. “They are fucking weird together. Just don't ever make me witness whatever the fuck the 'touching rules' are, Vij.”

John chuckled under his breath before turning back toward the television too.

Adebayo, however, was still watching Adrian.

“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet tonight, Adrian.”

Had he? He hadn't noticed. He guessed he'd talked less than usual, but there wasn't much he wanted to say. Not with his chest hurting the way it was.

He didn’t answer her, just gave another sweep over Cass’s knuckles.

“Do you think you might be a little sad about Cass leaving?”

He blinked, tearing his eyes from the soft hand underneath his. “Sad? No. I’m not sad.”

She tilted her head, her braids, falling across her shoulder as she sat her phone down in her lap. John and Peacemaker were still watching the television. “Then, how do you feel about it?”

“I-I don’t know,” he admitted, looking back at Cass’s face. Fuck. The knife twisted and he held her hand a little tighter. “It makes me feel sick.”

Adebayo was looking at him now with an expression he couldn't quite place. It wasn't teasing anymore. Her smile had disappeared somewhere between his first sentence and his last, replaced by something softer. Sadder.

He didn't understand why.

Across the room, John glanced over the back of the recliner.

Adrian never noticed. His attention stayed on Cass. She was still asleep, breathing slow and even, completely unaware of the conversation happening around her. His thumb drifted once more across the back of her hand.

They didn’t get time to finish their list.

He still hadn’t taught her how to climb a fire escape.

And that made him feel really sick.

***

The discharge papers were still warm from the printer and place carefully in her bag. Cass stood beside the black SUV, a crutch hooked under one of her arms. The occasional raindrop dotted her shirt.

The parking lot shimmered from the afternoon rain, puddles reflecting the gray sky overhead. John was already loading the last of her things into the back

Chris had hugged her so hard she'd nearly reopened three stitches. Adebayo had cried, held her, and made her promise to call. She had. Harcourt had already said goodbye upstairs. The doctors had complained about her sitting up for so long, but Harcourt had ignored every one of them.

Now, there was only Adrian. He hadn't said much since they'd walked outside. He stood with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders rounded, staring at a crack in the pavement like it had personally offended him.

She limped away from the others, facing her back to them to give herself an ounce of privacy.

"Are you going to say anything?"

His eyes lifted to hers, and her throat tightened immediately.

"It's going to be okay," Cass said quickly, smiling before she could lose the ability to. She tipped her head back as another raindrop landed on her forehead. "We'll video call. We can text whenever we want. You're already good at texting."

“Yeah, I’m fucking sick at texting.” Adrian took a step towards her and Cass shifted on her crutch. “I use great punctuation and everything.”

“It’ll be like I never left!” Cass smiled, but the pain in her throat grew. Adrian’s frown deepened. “Besides it’s not like-it’s not like we really knew each other all that long-we’re just going back to our regular lives and nothing will be different except we have a new pen pal-.”

Adrian pulled her into a tight embrace before she could say another word. Her crutch clattered to the damp ground as she threw her arms around his neck. One arm locked around her waist, taking the weight off her injured leg, while the other cradled the back of her head. His hoodie smelled like gunpowder and laundry detergent. She squeezed her eyes shut, her chest aching with every breath.

“I can’t quit my job.” Her words came out as a frantic whisper against his hoodie. She pulled back far enough to see him, keeping her hands on the back of his neck. "Evergreen needs Vigilante."

"I know."

She swallowed. “We just met.”

"I know." He rested his forehead against hers. His voice was barely a whisper. "I never taught you the fire escape thing."

Cass laughed through tears. "No, you didn’t.”

"Or tree climbing or knives. What if you have to climb a tree and I’m not there?” He adjusted his grip around her, keeping her weight off her bad leg. Cass held him back tighter. “Oh my God. You’re going to fall and break your other leg in the middle of some random forest and you’ll be left with no working legs.”

A wet laugh bubbled from Cass, but Adrian kept speaking. His forehead nudged against hers, as his words came out completely serious. “That would be so bad.”

“It would,” she agreed, fresh tears brimming in her eyes.

Adrian palmed her waist, drawing back just enough that Cass was able to look into his eyes. A single raindrop slid down the side of his glasses.

“You should know I seriously considered kidnapping you,” he said suddenly, with complete sincerity. “Like, a lot. You wouldn’t be able to keep your job though, so you’d just be pissed at me the whole time.”

“Yeah, I probably would be.” Cass smiled, but her lip quivered. “Good call.”

Adrian huffed a quiet laugh. Instead of saying anything else, he rested his forehead against hers again and closed his eyes. Cass followed his lead.

For one impossible second, the rain, the parking lot, the world outside the circle of his arms all disappeared.

Then, someone laid on the horn of the SUV.

They didn’t move. Adrian sighed through his nose and glanced to the SUV. “I could still make a run for it. I’m pretty sure I can outrun all of them.”

Cass’s smile wavered. She reached up and nudged his crooked glasses back into place before wiping the raindrop from one lens with her thumb.

“No, Adrian.”

Reluctantly, Adrian bent to retrieve the crutch she'd dropped without letting go of her waist. He settled it beneath her arm, adjusted her grip on the handle, then finally let go. She didn't dare look up at him. If she saw those green eyes again, she'd lose whatever fragile grip she still had on herself.

She turned away first.

Hobbling slightly, she crossed the parking lot and Chris ruffled her hair with a closed fist.

"Don't get shot again," he muttered.

She forced a smile. "I'll do my best."

Ads held her one last time, squeezing her gently. “I’ll keep you posted on Harcourt. Stay safe.” And then, in words that were barely above a whisper. “He’ll be okay, Cass. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

She had to get out of there.

Before she could change her mind, Cass tightened her grip on the crutch and climbed into the passenger seat. The door shut with a dull thud, muting the sound of the rain against the pavement.

John slid into the driver's seat a moment later. The engine rumbled to life. Windshield wipers swept away the thin sheet of water gathering across the glass.

Cass fixed her eyes straight ahead.

She knew if she looked toward the passenger-side mirror, she'd find him standing exactly where she'd left him, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, rain soaking through the curls at the ends of his hair.

She couldn't do it.

The SUV eased out of the parking space and rolled toward the hospital exit. Buildings and parked cars drifted past in blurred streaks beneath the rain. Only when the hospital disappeared behind them did she finally let the tears come.

John didn’t say a word.

taglist: @tez0

[auddy-95]

In The Silence With You

Chapter 8

Pairing: Adrian Chase/female original character

Summary: A rewrite of season 1 and 2, with a new member of the team.

Cass was assigned to Project Butterfly because she had a problem with following orders. With her personal life crumbling around her, she finds comfort in an unlikely team member. Vigilante. 18+

Words: 8.1k

ao3 link

previous chapters

Cass wasn't sure how she felt about Murn's death.

She was sad, of course. No matter how often he yelled at them or belittled them, he had still been part of the team. It wasn't like they'd been close, though. Mostly, it just left her feeling...strange.

Especially now that she knew he'd been a butterfly the entire time.

He'd worked beside her for weeks, barking orders and sending them on missions, all while hiding what he really was. It stung more than she cared to admit that he hadn't trusted any of them enough to tell them the truth.

She stretched her legs out in front of her. The concrete was cool beneath her, even through her jeans, and the brick wall of the veterinary clinic offered a welcome patch of shade. It was a nice place to sit for a minute while she tried to process everything Harcourt and Adebayo had unloaded on her.

The police department had been overtaken by butterflies. Murn had been cornered and killed. The butterflies knew the team knew about the cow, meaning they were going to move it before anyone could find it.

And, somehow, the most unbelievable revelation of all was that Chris had been right.

Adebayo had framed him on the orders of her mother, Amanda Waller.

"Chris is going to be so excited to rub it in my face that I was wrong," Cass muttered, resting the back of her head against the brick wall.

Harcourt snorted quietly. Adebayo let out a long, miserable groan.

"I know. I know." She covered her face with both hands. Cass could almost feel the shame and regret rolling off her. "I fucked up. I'm going to find a way to fix it, though. There's got to be a way to make it right."

Cass believed her. She just wasn't sure Chris would.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark from somewhere across town.

"I just hope Eagly makes it," Cass said quietly. "I don't think Chris can take another hit today."

Harcourt glanced at her watch. She let out an irritable sigh. “They need to hurry. The butterflies could be moving this cow at any-.”

The front door to the clinic swung open. John looked around frantically for a minute, before his eyes landed on the three of them against the building. He made a wild gesture with his hands for them to follow.

“Would you get in here? Vigilante is being a total freak.”

The three of them were on their feet instantly. Cass reached the door first, John hurrying after her.

"These really nice people saved Eagly," he rambled as they hurried down the hallway, "and now he's threatening them with a gun."

Cass burst into the exam room. A veterinarian, with a tech on either side of him, had their hands raised. Adrian was just in front of her, his suit back in place and a gun raised their direction. He wasn’t wearing his mask.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cass demanded, marching straight up to him. She grabbed the barrel of the gun and shoved it toward the floor. Adrian scowled but didn't fight her. Cass planted her hands on her hips. "Is there a particular reason you have these people at gunpoint?"

"They saw me without my mask," he answered, immediately lifting the gun back toward the three terrified employees. "Peacemaker and I are wanted criminals. What choice do I have but to kill this veterinarian, this nurse, and this male nurse?"

"You don't have to specify he's a male nurse." Cass shoved the gun back toward the floor again. "I can see him just fine, Adrian."

“You just used my real name!” Adrian gasped in a strained, exasperated voice. “Now, they really do have to die.”

She stepped in front of the barrel. Adrian glowered but aimed it to the floor. Planting her feet firmly on the ground, Cass looked desperately at Harcourt. “Do we really have to kill them?”

For a moment, she actually looked like she was considering it. Finally, she glanced at John and Adebayo. Both wore matching expressions of horrified disbelief.

She sighed. "No. We'll tie them up. By the time the next shift comes in, we'll be long gone."

Adrian looked at her over his shoulder. "They've seen my face."

"If we don't stop the butterflies today," Harcourt shot back, "it won't matter who they've seen. Just get it sone, so we can go. Someone go find Chris and his damn bird.”

Adrian let out a dramatic sigh, finally lowering the gun completely. "Find some duct tape. Don't put it over their mouths, though." He gestured toward the three terrified employees. "It rips the skin."

John blinked. "So let me get this straight," he deadpanned. "You're compassionate about tape, but not brutally murdering people?"

Adrian thought about it for a second. “Yep.”

Things moved quickly after that. John found a roll of duct tape in one of the cabinets while Adrian ushered the veterinary staff into three chairs with surprising politeness. None of them argued. Cass knelt beside the veterinarian, wrapping the tape carefully around his wrists and the chair arm.

"I'm really sorry about this," she said quietly. "He's having a weird day."

“He threatened to kill us.”

Cass glanced over at Adrian, who was helping John tape the technician's wrists while offering unsolicited advice about proper restraint techniques.

“Yeah.” She nodded, refusing to meet his eye. She ripped the roll of tape. “Yeah, he did. I swear he’s not usually this homicidal.”

Adrian’s head snapped her direction. “Don’t lie to them.”

Cass whirled, glaring at him. “Go find your mask before we have to threaten the next random civilian we run into.”

Adrian looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment he simply muttered something under his breath and wandered off in search of his discarded mask.

Cass watched him disappear into the hallway before turning back to the veterinarian. She gave him a sheepish smile. “It really has just been a weird day."

The poor man just stared at her. She couldn't really blame him.

A few minutes later, Adrian returned wearing his mask and Eagly was perched carefully on Chris's uninjured arm. The veterinary staff had been secured as comfortably as the tape would allow, and John had scribbled a hurried apology on the back of a business card before leaving it on the examination table. He'd also informed them, as politely as possible, that they were commandeering the mobile veterinary van.

Outside, the six of them gathered in a loose circle beside the vehicles. The afternoon sun beat down relentlessly, bright enough that Cass had to squint against the glare as she looked around at the others.

For a moment, no one spoke. John finally broke the silence.

"So,” he looked from Harcourt to Adebayo, then back again. "Who's going to tell us what we're supposed to be doing?"

Everyone's eyes drifted toward Harcourt. She noticed immediately and rubbed a hand over her face as she spoke. "I don't want the job."

"Neither did Murn," Adrian said from beside Cass.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"What? “The red visor tilted. "You could tell. He really hated his job.”

Cass fought a smile.

John pointed at Harcourt. "Congratulations. Democracy has spoken."

She stared at each of them for another second before letting out a long, defeated sigh.

"Fine. Let’s make sure we’re all on the same page.” She gave each of them a long, hard look and squared her shoulders. “The butterflies can’t survive on our food. This cow is the only thing that produces the amber fluid they need. Without it, they can’t survive more than a couple weeks. We know it’s burrowed somewhere under the ranch and the butterflies know we’re coming. They’re going to try and transport it out.”

“How?” Chris asked.

“Based on what Ads and I overheard, teleportation.” Cass could have rolled her eyes. Of course it was something ridiculous like teleportation. “Which to us means it will be lost forever. Hopefully, we can make it there before they can make their move.”

“And then we get in there and kick ass like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” Adrian said cheerfully from beneath his mask.

Ads frowned. “Didn’t they die at the end of that movie?”

***

Cass tried to stay as far away from Chris and Ads as possible. Adrian must have been thinking the same thing, because when she took a seat in the in the far back of the van with a small exam table and metal cages, he joined her. John was driving and Harcourt took the passenger seat, leaving Ads and Chris to it next to each other on the bench in the middle.

The tension radiating off of them was nauseating.

The music up front was loud enough that Cass felt safe enough to have a private conversation with Adrian. She shifted in the stool, her knee bumping into his.

"How're you feeling?" she asked quietly.

The red visor turned toward her. "Pretty good."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Nothing hurts?"

Adrian considered it for a moment. "I mean, everything kind of hurts."

"Adrian."

"But that's normal." He shrugged. "I'm alive. That's the important part."

Cass couldn't decide if that was reassuring or deeply concerning, but before she could argue, a familiar chirp interrupted them.

To her mild annoyance, Eagly had apparently decided the back of the van was more interesting than Chris's lap. The eagle landed on the edge of the exam table, staring expectantly at Adrian.

"Oh." Adrian reached into one of the many pockets sewn into his suit and pulled out a crinkled bag of chips. "Hey, buddy."

Eagly chirped again. Adrian offered him a chip. Cass watched the bird delicately take it from his fingers. She glanced toward the middle bench, to where Chris And Ads were determinedly not looking at each other.

"Do you think Chris will forgive her?" Cass asked quietly.

The red visor turned toward her. "Who?"

"Adebayo." Her brows knit together. "You know, for framing him?"

Adrian's head snapped towards the center of the van. "Oh, shit. She really did do it?"

"Yes!" Cass hissed, grabbing his arm before his voice carried any farther. "Keep it down."

Eagly let out an indignant screech when Adrian forgot about the chip he'd been holding out. Adrian absentmindedly handed it over, his attention still fixed on Cass.

"I don't think she wanted to," Cass continued, lowering her voice again. "She feels really bad."

Adrian watched Chris for a long moment through the front of the van. Eagly nudged his hand impatiently, and Adrian absently handed him another chip without looking away.

“I don’t think that’s going to matter. He’s been my best friend for years and I’ve never known him to forgive someone easily." He turned back to Eagly. “He once didn’t talk to me for ten months.”

“Why?”

 “Don’t know. I never really did find out.” He crinkled another chip into smaller pieces for Eagly. “He’s funny like that though.”

Cass fell quiet. She watched Adrian chat happily to Eagly and something about it made her chest ache.

"Adrian," she said softly. "I don't think Chris is a very good best friend.”

There was a short laugh from underneath the mask. “That’s ridiculous. Of course, he is.”

“He’s not very nice to you.”

“That’s just Peacemaker.” Adrian said. He dug around for another chip. “Eagly here is my second-best friend. You are easily number three-.”

“Excuse me.” Cass glowered. “I’m after the bird?”

“What? I’ve known Eagly longer.”

Cass’s mouth fell open and an indignant laugh fell from her lips. “I lugged around your half-dead body earlier today. My clothes are literally covered in your dried blood. I cleaned your wounds and bandaged them-.”

“Eagly brings me dead woodland creatures when he thinks I’m sad.”

Cass set her jaw, snatching the chips from his hands and digging for one herself. She held it carefully out to Eagly, who fixed her with a sharp eye before taking it quickly from her fingers.

“Well,” she said, reaching for a second chip. “I’ll just have to make him my best friend and next time you blow yourself up with a grenade, you can call Chris to take care of you.”

“I don’t want to call Chris to take care of me.”

Cass flushed at the matter-of-fact words, but she didn’t turn to look at him. She broke a chip in half and fed one piece to Eagly.

I like it when you touch me.

Heat crept into Cass's cheeks. She suddenly became far too aware of the suit beside her. Warmth radiated through the armor where Adrian's leg rested against hers, steady and familiar. Every bump in the road sent their arms brushing together, neither of them bothering to pull away.

A scarred back beneath her hands. Freckles. A crooked, toothy grin.

Eagly nipped her fingertips as he stole the chip, making her jump.

Stupid, she scolded herself. Stupid.

She had to survive killing an alien cow first. She could have an existential crisis later. For now, she needed to settle the nerves that were rattling every inch of her body.

“Adrian?” She reached for another chip, keeping her attention firmly on Eagly. “You think you could tell me more about that animal documentary you like? The one we never got to finish?”

“Oh! Yeah! Theres this really dope part about shingleback lizards-.”

Cass let his voice wash over her as she continued feeding Eagly one chip at a time. By the time Adrian had moved on to explain why shinglebacks were one of the only lizards that formed lifelong pair bonds, the frantic pounding of her heart had finally begun to settle.

***

John parked the van in the middle of the woods.

Lush green leaves swayed overhead, and birds chirped somewhere in the distance. If Cass ignored the fact that they were about to storm an alien-infested ranch, it would be almost peaceful.

She stood in the open doorway of the van, passing one of the black duffel bags down to Adrian. Chris hovered over her shoulder while John unloaded the last of their equipment.

The four of them all made a concerted effort not to stare at Adebayo.

A few yards away, she paced back and forth with her phone pressed to her ear.

"You have to send someone!" Her voice echoed through the trees. "The whole team is injured-.” She turned away, dragging a frustrated hand over her face.

John leaned toward the others. "Can you believe her mom's fucking Amanda Waller?" he whispered, half-laughing.

"Yes," Chris answered flatly.

Cass shot him a look. It sounded like Adebayo was begging her mother to call in the Justice League. Harcourt had apparently lost patience, because she suddenly snatched the phone out of Adebayo's hand.

"We don't have time to wait for backup!" she barked into the receiver. "If they get that cow out of here, we're screwed."

Cass winced. “Do you think any of them will actually show up?"

“Doubt it.” Chris said. “They’re a bunch of narcissistic assholes.”

Cass rolled her eyes, before sighing dramatically “It’s too bad I didn’t bring my Aquaman t-shirt. I could have had him sign it.

Adrian, who’d been reaching up to help her down from the van, visibly recoiled. His hands stopped dead, an inch from her waist. “Aquaman merch? Really?”

Cass grinned.  “As soon as they come out with some Vigilante merchandise, I’ll be the first to buy a shirt.” Adrian let out a disgruntled huff beneath the mask as he slipped his hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground. The moment her shoes hit the dirt, Cass patted one of his shoulder plates. "Maybe even a bumper sticker."

“No bumper stickers. It makes your car easier to track.”

“Then, what would you prefer Adrian?”

“Two t-shirts?”

“Sure,” Cass laughed. “I’ll buy two t-shirts just for you.”

Adrian grabbed the duffel bag from the ground, swinging it over his shoulder before following after where Harcourt and Adebayo were starting to trek through the woods. Ads was still arguing with her mother on the phone. Cass started to follow and Chris, surprisingly, fell into step beside her.

“What was that?”

Cass blinked up at him. “What?”

“You two.” He motioned in between her and Adrian’s back ahead of him. “What the hell was that?”

Cass looked back at Adrian, to the sword strapped to his back.

“I genuinely don’t know what you mean. We were just joking around.”

John appeared on her other side. “They’ve been like that ever since Adrian murdered her ex in her living room. They have a really fucking weird relationship.”

Cass paled. “He didn’t murder Harry! He just-.” She looked sheepishly back to Chris. “-kind of pinned him to the wall with a knife-well, two knives technically-but it was completely justified.”

“See?” John raised a brow at Chris over her head. “Fucking weird relationship.”

She wasn't able to defend herself further. Up ahead, the others had stopped. The trees parted, revealing an open, grassy clearing. A lone barn stood in the middle, surrounded by a wall of dense forest. Adebayo angrily shoved her phone into her pocket. Cass didn't have to ask to know the call hadn't gone the way she'd hoped.

Harcourt, settling behind a fallen tree and watching the distant barn with a set of binoculars, let out an irritated breath. “The place is crawling with butterflies.”

"Great." Adrian flipped his handgun once before catching it neatly in his palm. "Set me loose out there, boss."

"Easy there, Lone Ranger," Harcourt muttered without lowering the binoculars. "Even if we all went, we'd be overrun in seconds. We wouldn't make it anywhere near the barn."

“Maybe we can use one of these,” Adebayo was digging through one of the duffel bags, pulling out Peacemaker’s helmets. “Chris are any of these useful?”

“Maybe the sonic boom one? It’s what I used to stop that rocker chick.” He grabbed one of the helmets and turned it over in his hands.

Adebayo looked to the barn. “I think I have an idea.”

The plan was simple. They would tape a walkie-talkie inside the helmet, have Eagly carry it to the barn, then remotely activate the sonic boom. If everything went according to plan, they'd wipe out a couple dozen butterflies before they even knew the team was there.

Cass had to admit, with their limited options, it was a surprisingly solid plan.

There was only one problem.

Chris was convinced Eagly followed verbal commands. Everyone else knew better.

“Eagly. Buddy. Hey-Eagly.” Chris snapped his fingers until the eagle finally looked up from meticulously preening beneath one of his wings. He held the silver helmet in front of his beak. “Got it?”

Harcourt scowled at Chris from beside Cass. “There is no way he knows what you’re saying.”

Eagly let out a piercing screech that made Cass flinch instinctively into Adrian's shoulder. She straightened almost immediately. Beside her, Adrian let out a quiet snort.

"Eagly, stop it." Chris frowned at the bird. "The mean blonde woman and the computer nerd have nothing to do with this." Cass and Harcourt glowered, but he ignored them as he pointed again. “Take this to the barn. Understand? The barn. Way over there. Fly it over. Drop it. Come back."

Without another screech, Eagly snatched the helmet from Chris's hands.

"There you go!" Chris called after him. "Straight to the barn, buddy!"

The eagle beat his wings hard, climbing above the treeline. Cass couldn’t believe it. She covered her mouth with both hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet as Eagly continued toward the clearing. Beside her, Adebayo let out a hopeful laugh. Even Harcourt looked cautiously impressed.

"I told you," Chris said smugly.

Then Eagly banked sharply to the right.

Cass stopped bouncing. Chris's smile vanished. Adrian let out the smallest, almost disappointed, "Oh."

They watched as the eagle soared over the woods before casually releasing the silver helmet. It disappeared into the trees with a metallic crash.

Silence.

“I knew he had no idea what you were talking about,” Harcourt hissed, whirling on Chris as her hands turned to fists.

“Peacemaker is a great guy in almost way, but his biggest flaw is that he commonly overestimates Eagly’s abilities,” Adrian sighed from over Cass’s shoulder.

“They could be teleporting this cow at any minute.” Harcourt rubbed a hand over the injuries on her face, ignoring Adrian. “We need to fan out and find the helmet.”

The team dispersed without another word. Chris and Harcourt stayed near the edge of the clearing, searching around the treeline. John and Adebayo headed deeper into the woods together. Cass hesitated for only a moment before choosing a path between them.

She didn't ask Adrian to follow her.

He just did.

***

"Do you see anything?" Cass toed through a pile of leaves with her boot.

"There were a couple squirrels in that tree," Adrian answered from somewhere nearby. He kicked through the leaves at his feet. "A bunch of ants."

"I meant the helmet."

"Oh." He glanced around. "No."

The afternoon sun hung high overhead as they searched, an unwelcome reminder that time was slipping away. Every minute they spent looking for the helmet was another minute the butterflies had to move the cow.

"So," Adrian asked in an oddly cheerful voice as he nudged a fallen log with his boot, "you still think we might die today? Or are you feeling a little more optimistic?"

"Oh, I definitely think we have a good chance of not making it," Cass answered. She crouched to peer beneath a thorny bush before straightening again. "Even if we manage to kill some of those things with the helmet, there'll still be a few dozen left. And there's...what? Three of us with any real fighting experience?" She sighed. "Realistically, I think we're in over our heads."

"That's a little dark."

"I'm not saying we should give up," she said, stepping farther into the woods. She could hear his boots crunching through the leaves somewhere behind her. "I just don't think we're coming out of this in one piece.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that.” Adrian said. He crouched beside a half-rotted log. “It’s not like I’m going to let something happen to you.”

“I’m not worried. Just stating a fact.” Cass looked at him over her shoulder. “And we both know you can’t promise that. Your priority is the cow. That’s the mission.”

“That’s your mission. I’m not ARGUS, remember?” Adrian rose and walked towards her. “I’m just tagging along.”

Cass folded her arms and tilted her heads up at him. “You agreed to follow Harcourts orders.”

“And I totally will. Killing an alien cow and a couple dozen butterflies is going to be fucking sick.” He paused in front of her. “But if something happens to you, I’ll come.”

Cass chewed on the inside of her cheek and shook her head. “Only if the cow is dead.”

“Maybe.” He walked past her, continuing to examine the ground. “It would be real annoying if you died." He kicked over a fallen branch. "I wanted to see you in one of those vigilante shirts."

She flushed at words, but a quick glance at Adrian told her they didn’t have the same impact for him. He was still casually kicking around the forest floor. Cass took a breath to compose herself.

"I think they should come with a tour."

Adrian glanced back. "Tour?"

"The shirts,” she shrugged. "If we survive helping killing an alien cow, I think I've earned the right to see your secret superhero lair."

A laugh escaped beneath the mask. "My mom’s basement?"

Cass paused, her own laugh bubbling in her throat. "You called it your lair!”

"It is!” He kicked over another log. “Technically! It just also happens to be in my mom’s basement if we’re being honest.”

Somehow, Adrian stashing his vigilante gear in his mother's basement was exactly what Cass would have imagined. Her curiosity only grew.

"I still want to see it," Cass said.

Adrian shook his head. "No, you don't."

"I do."

"Trust me." He nudged a rotten branch aside with his boot. "My mom's a total bitch. I'm not subjecting you to that."

She shot him a look as she examined a bush. "That's a horrible way to talk about your mother."

"It's also accurate."

"I still think it's mean." Cass brushed pine needles from her hands before continuing. "My mom and I aren't exactly close either, but I'd never call her that."

Adrian glanced back at her. Cass hesitated.

"She isn't..." Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words. "Mean, exactly." She looked down at the forest floor. "We're just very different. I think she wishes I was more like her, and instead she got a smaller version of my dad."

Adrian stopped walking. After a few steps, Cass realized he wasn't beside her anymore. She glanced back over her shoulder and offered him a small, lopsided smile.

"It's okay," she said quickly. "I just understand complicated moms."

She walked back and as she passed him, she jabbed one of his shoulder plates.

"But that doesn't mean you should call yours a bitch."

Adrian rolled his neck, the red visor catching a glint of the afternoon sun as he did so. He let out a dramatic groan before falling back into step with. “Fine, but she’s still a bloodsucking tick on my dick-.”

“Adrian Chase!”

“What?” He gestured hopelessly. “You said I should stop calling her bitch. I did.”

“Okay. We are ending this conversation right now.” Cass glared sideways at him. “No more tour. No more vigilante shirts.”

“Fuck!”

***

Cass didn't ask where they found the clothes.

 She didn’t really want to know, given they had to wash blood of it in the creek, but by the time everyone regrouped at the edge of the clearing, Harcourt and Chris had recovered not only the helmet, but also the security uniform from one of the butterflies that had been guarding the perimeter.

The sun had dipped behind the trees, covering the woods in deepening blue shadows. Somewhere overhead, an owl hooted. Beside her, Adrian nudged her elbow and tilted his head toward the sound. Cass smiled despite herself before turning her attention back to Harcourt.

"Okay," Harcourt said, holding up the security uniform. "Now that we've wasted several hours trusting a goddamn eagle with a life-or-death mission, I've got a new plan. One of us is going to disguise themselves as a butterfly, carry the helmet into the barn, and leave it there. Then we'll activate it remotely, just like we planned."

"Great. I can do it," Cass said without hesitation.

Adrian snorted beside her. "No fucking way. I'll do it."

Cass shot him an annoyed look. He ignored her.

"Neither of you can," Chris cut in. "The butterflies have seen both your faces. They'll know who you are."

“It can’t be me or Ads, because they’ll know we’re human covered in these injuries,” Harcourt continued. “So, that just leaves one of us.”

They all looked at John, who looked at them all in turn one-by-one and cursed.

***

“Guys, he is freaking out,” Cass hissed, from her spot kneeling behind a large, uprooted tree. Harcourt was on one side of her, binoculars pressed to her eyes as she watched John talk to a butterfly just inside the barn doors. “Tell him to turn around and let me-.”

“Vigilante, tell your girlfriend to shut up,” Harcourt interrupted without looking away from the binoculars.

Cass whipped her head around to glare at Adrian behind her. “Do not tell me to shut up.”

He raised his hands in front of him defensively. “I wasn’t going to!”

They fell silent again, all eyes returning to John. Chris murmured instructions into the radio as John hesitantly disappeared into the barn. Cass felt her stomach tighten watching him go. Beside Adrian, Adebayo had started chewing nervously on her thumbnail. Cass couldn't blame her.

“Do you think if the butterflies realize he’s human they’ll claw in his face?’ Adrian asked, leaning down to Chris. “Or just outright kill him?”

Chris’s mouth turned. “Really, dude? You’re going to ask that now?”

“What?” Adrian frowned. “This seemed like a good time to ask.”

Cass let out a quiet groan, and shoved away from the log. “I can’t watch this.”

She paced a few steps behind the tree, arms folded tightly across her chest.

Adrian followed after her.

"It'll be okay."

"You don't know that."

"I kind of do." He shrugged. "This part's almost over."

Cass looked at him.

"Economos is going be back here any minute. Harcourt, Chris, and I are going to kill the cow." He said it with complete certainty. "We've got this."

She wished she shared his confidence. She kept pacing beneath the trees, boots crunching softly through the leaves.

“I hate that you won't let me go with you.” Adrian tilted his head.

“I get why,” she continued before he could answer. “I'd just slow you down. I'd be a liability and I know it.” She dragged a hand through her hair with an exasperated sigh. “I just... I can't stand sitting here while the rest of you walk into something that might get you killed. She laughed bitterly. “I hate feeling useless.”

“That’s not useless.”

Adrian pushed himself away from the tree he'd been leaning against and stepped into her path, stopping her pacing.

“Look at it this way.” He shrugged. “You waiting here gives me the best chance of killing as many of those things as possible.”

Cass frowned.

“If you were out there,” he continued, “I'd spend the whole time making sure nobody got to you.” He said it so matter-of-factly it almost caught her off guard. “That means fewer dead butterflies.”

Before she could think of a response, he reached forward, hooked his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans, and tugged her toward him, before he continued speaking.

“So.” The single word came out decisively as he pulled a sheathed knife from somewhere on his suit. “You're going to wait here with this,-“he threaded the sheath onto her belt,“-just in case something happens before I get back.”

His fingers worked quickly, tightening the straps.

“And in less than an hour,” he finished, giving the sheath one final tug to make sure it was secure, “we're all going to laugh about how fucking cool today was.”

Cass bit back a smile.

“I can't take your knife.” She looked down at it. “We haven’t had lesson number two yet.”

“Here’s a crash course,” Adrian corrected. He gave the sheath another absent-minded adjustment. The tug pulled her another inch closer until there was barely any space between them. “The pointy part goes inside someone. Hold it tight. Jam it upwards.”

His gloved hands remained where they'd settled against the knife at her hip. They weren’t gripping it anymore, just rresting there as though he'd forgotten what he was doing.

She could hear him breathing. Steady. Calm. Overwhelmingly comforting. It was a deep contrast to the wet, pained breaths from earlier when the dried blood on them both had been fresh.

For one impossible second, she wanted to tell him not to go.

The thought startled her.

“Adrian-.”

His visor tilted towards her, then shouts cut through the night air. They both whipped around. Across the grassy clearing, John was running. A crowd of butterflies were after him.

“Oh my God!” Cass scrambled back to the others, her resolved panic now clawing its way back into her chest again as the inhuman growls and screeches rose into the night. “Is the helmet-?”

“It’s in the barn!” Harcourt shouted, whirling on Adebayo. “Set it off!”

Adebayo held the walkie talkie carefully to her mouth and said the words, “activate sonic boom.”

The explosion wasn’t near as deafening as the grenades. Maybe it was because she wasn’t ten feet away from it that time, but the blast didn’t knock Cass onto her back. The sound of woods splintering crashed through the air as the barn exploded. With slight disgust, Cass saw several butterflies disintegrate into clouds of red mist.

Silence swallowed the clearing. The butterflies that had been chasing John stood motionless, every one of them staring toward the smoking remains of the barn. They didn't even notice him backing away.

Then the screaming started. Sounds of terror. Racing bodies. The mass of butterflies hurried towards the barn and Cass knew they were worried for the cow that remained somewhere underneath.

Adebayo waited a few seconds longer, then she repeated the words.

Another blast. More blown apart butterflies. On either side of her, Harcourt, Chris, and Adrian were readying themselves. Loading weapons, checking ammo. Adrian produced two handguns from seemingly nowhere, flipping each once before catching them with practiced ease.

John reached them, breathing heavily and practically falling on the leaf covered ground.

Nobody answered. Harcourt was already sighting down her rifle.

There were more screeches, more butterflies racing to the barn when Adebayo said the words for the final time. This blast was noticeably smaller.

“That’s it for the charges,” Chris announced. He handed Ads two handguns. Just in case.

“Cool.” Adrian spun one handgun around his finger. “So, what’s the plan, man?”

“Let’s go kill this fucking cow.”

Cass didn’t say anything as the three of them departed, moving so confidently into a field of butterflies that Cass felt a surge of jealousy. She wanted so badly to be useful. To do something more than sit behind a log with Ads and John and watch helplessly.

Then, the killing started.

Gunfire erupted across the clearing. Butterflies burst apart in sprays of red. Adrian vanished into the middle of them without hesitating. Somewhere along the way, Adrian’s sword disappeared from his back and appeared in his hands.

Cass decided she was just fine where she was.

“Jesus, the three of them are scary,” Ads said in a slightly horrified tone. Cass was pretty sure Adrian had just lodged his sword into someone’s skull, but she couldn’t be sure. “Here I was feeling bad for staying behind.”

“Me too,” she answered in a hollow voice. Her nails dug into the log as Harcourt jumped onto a lone creature crawling its way out of its host. Cass thought she saw her stab it. Gunfire echoed across the clearing, but it was becoming sporadic. They were running out of ammunition. “There’s too many of them.”

Every time one fell, another seemed to crawl out of the darkness to replace it. Gunfire cracked across the clearing in shorter, more desperate bursts. Chris had stopped firing in controlled pairs. Harcourt was rationing shots. Adrian had abandoned one of his handguns altogether, carving his way through the swarm instead.

They were losing ground.

Her fingers curled tighter against the fallen log.

Stay here.

That had been the plan.

Cass really, really hated the plan.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” John heaved, from behind them.

“No, she’s right.” Ads didn’t tear her eyes away from the fight. “It’s not slowing down-.”

Cass watched in bated horror as the wave of butterflies kept coming and coming. She knew she was a liability. She knew she probably wouldn't make a difference. But the urge to do something became almost impossible to ignore.

Then, there was the crack of gunfire. Blood sprayed from Harcourt’s stomach.

Cass didn’t think.  She and Ads were already vaulting the log before she realized her legs were moving. John's voice shouted after them, but neither of them stopped

There was no strategy anymore. No weighing risks. No mission.

Just pure, blinding terror that Harcourt was about to die in the middle of that field

Cass didn’t look for Adrian. She couldn’t, because her eyes were trained on Harcourt as more gunfire broke through the air and more blood sprayed from Harcourt’s shoulder. Ads was faster. She made it as Harcourt fell, sliding to her knees and calling out to her to stay away.

Ads didn’t see the butterfly coming up on their side. Cass did.

Her legs pumped harder, lungs burning as the clearing dissolved into flashes of gunfire and shouting. Twenty feet. Fifteen. The butterfly had a rifle drawn.

She launched herself forward. She slammed into the butterfly hard enough to send them both crashing sideways. The rifle discharged into the night as they hit the ground in a tangled heap.

The impact rattled every bone in her body.

The butterfly recovered first. Before Cass could suck in another breath, it was on top of her. One hand slammed her shoulders into the dirt while the other fought to wrench the rifle back around.

Her fingers brushed the knife on her jeans. Without thinking, she tore it free and drove it upward. The butterfly jerked violently. Its grip loosened for the smallest fraction of a second.

Cass let out a ragged cry as she shoved with every ounce of strength she had, rolling the body off her before it could recover.

She didn't stop. Still fueled by panic, she scrambled after it, raising the knife again. The blade came down once. Twice and only when the butterfly stopped moving did Cass freeze.

Her chest heaved. The knife trembled in her grip. For one suspended heartbeat, she simply stared.

Boots skidded to a stop beside her.

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Cass looked up. Adrian stood over her, sword dripping red. Without taking his eyes off her, he drove the blade into the ground beside the corpse. The butterfly that had begun crawling from its host's mouth writhed once before the steel pinned it clean through. He yanked the sword free with a wet sound.

"Like, seriously." He offered her a gloved hand. "I think I'm a little hard right now."

Cass stared at him for half a second before taking his hand. "Gross."

Movement flickered over Adrian's shoulder.

"Down."

His hand slammed into her shoulder, shoving her toward the ground just as another butterfly lunged. Cass hit the grass hard. Steel hissed over her head. She barely caught the flash of Adrian's sword before something heavy crashed beside her.

By the time she pushed herself back onto her hands, Adrian was already turning toward the next threat.

Cass wasn't.

Her eyes found Harcourt. Ads was on her knees beside her, both hands pressed into the blood spreading beneath her stomach. Cass scrambled across the grass toward them as another gunshot cracked through the clearing.

“You need-need to help Chris.” Bubbles of blood appeared in Harcourt’s mouth at the words.

Cass looked wildly around. Chris was gone. He’d left to finish the job.

"I can't." Ads' voice cracked. "I can't leave you."

Cass slid in beside them and laid her hands over Ads'. Warm blood coated her palms almost instantly.

"Go." She eased Ads' hands away and replaced them with her own, pressing down as firmly as she could. "It's okay. Go help Chris. Adrian and I will get her out."

She made a sound like she was going to argue.

"Ads." Cass didn't look up. "Go kill the cow or this is all for nothing. We've got her."

There was a second of hesitation, then she was leaving for the ruined barn. Cass didn’t watch her leave. There was far too much blood in front of her for her attention to be elsewhere.

“Okay. We’re okay,” she whispered, mainly to herself. Harcourt was watching her with a hazy look in her usually sharp eyes. It made something tighten in Cass’s throat. She hooked an arm the best she could around Harcourt and started to stand. Her voice strained under the weight. “Adrian is getting the last of the butterflies. Chris and Ads are killing the cow and I’m going to get you out of here. Everything is going to be-.”

Another shot echoed. Something slammed into her leg with the force of a sledgehammer and white, blinding pain exploded in Cass’s thigh. Cass fell, a pained scream coming through strained teeth as she crumpled to the ground beside Harcourt.

She didn't even see the butterfly that fired. There was only the whistle of something slicing through the air and unmistakable wet crunch that let her know Adrian did.

The rifle clattered into the grass.

"Adrian!" Cass gasped. Tears blurred her vision as she pressed harder against her leg. Blood kept pouring through her fingers anyway. "Shit. Adrian!"

He was beside her in an instant. Gloved hands grabbed her wrists, trying to peel them away from the wound. Cass fought him, refusing to let go. Blood dripped onto the grass.

"Oh, fuck." His gloved hands reached for hers. "Cass, move your hands."

She shook her head violently, pressing harder against the wound. "I've got it."

"I know you've got it." His voice was tight now. There was an edge she didn’t recognize. "I need to see it."

She refused. Blood continued seeping between her fingers. Adrian swore under his breath before pressing both of his hands firmly over hers, forcing pressure against the wound. Pain shot through her leg and she cried out.

"Okay." He didn't let up. "That's good. Just like that. Keep the pressure there."

The edges of his mask blurred. Cass blinked hard, but the haze refused to clear.

Beside her, Harcourt hadn't moved. Adrian glanced toward her for only a heartbeat. Then his attention snapped back to Cass. His arm slid behind her shoulders. Her own blood smeared on the skin there.

"Okay," he said quickly. "I've got you."

One arm slid behind her back. The other hooked beneath her knees. Before she realized what he was doing, he had lifted her clean off the ground with surprising ease. The trees seemed to sway in impossible directions, and for a moment Cass couldn't tell whether the world was tilting or if her vision was failing.

Her head rolled on Adrian's arm. The bodies blurred together as they moved until a flash of blonde hair snapped into focus. Panic cut through the haze in her head and she jolted in his arms. Pain lanced through her leg.

“Wait-Harcourt!” Adrian didn’t even stop moving. Cass tugged once on his shoulder plate, before looking back. The blonde hair blurred. "Take her to John first. John can get her to the van. There are veterinary supplies back there. Bandages. Fluids. Something to keep her stable until we can get her to a hospital."

"I know.” His grip tightened on her. “That’s where I’m taking you. I’m faster than John.”

"Adrian, she's dying!"

"So are you."

He kept moving. Cass used the straps on his chest to pull herself up to look back again. The movement made the pressure behind her eyes grow and she struggled to open her them fully to try and get another glimpse of the blonde hair.

“Please go get her,” Cass begged, shifting her attention to the mask above her. She was so used to the red visor angling her direction when she spoke, that it caught her completely off guard when it didn’t move an inch. “It can’t be my fault that she dies. Adrian, please-.”

He ignored her again. She shoved weakly against his chest plate, then tried to twist. Her struggling, although feeble, threw his balance just enough that he had to shorten his stride.

"Cass." His voice came out tight. "Stop."

She didn't. She shoved against his chest plate again. With what little strength she had left, she twisted hard, trying to throw herself out of his arms.

"Cass!"

Adrian caught her before she hit the ground, but the sudden shift in weight forced him to stagger sideways. His boot dug into the dirt. He had to stop completely just to keep them both upright.

Fresh pain ripped through her leg.

"Put me down!" she ordered, but it didn’t sound near as intimidating as she hoped. The sky tilted around her. “Please-please go get Harcourt!”

"I swear I will." His arms cinched tighter around her, pinning her against his chest as she fought him. "The second I know you're not going to die, I'm coming back for her."

“That’ll be too late!” Hot tears poured from her cheeks. She twisted again, trying to wrench herself free. Adrian shifted his footing, locking her against his chest before she could throw herself sideways. "We're wasting time!"

"You're wasting time!"

Raw panic seized her. She wasn't going to win this. Adrian was already carrying her away, and the fog in her head was getting thicker by the second. Soon she wouldn't have the strength to fight him anymore.

If he wouldn't listen, then she'd make him stop.

Cass gritted her teeth, bracing for the agony she knew was coming. Then she shoved as hard as she could against his chest plate and threw the rest of her weight sideways.

Adrian swore as her weight suddenly disappeared from his center of balance. His grip slipped just enough for her to slide from his arms. He lunged after her before she could hit the ground.

They crashed into the grass together.

The impact sent blinding pain through Cass's leg. She cried out as the world lurched beneath her. Adrian hit the ground beside her, twisting as they fell so that she landed against him instead of the hard ground. One arm was still hooked around her shoulders, already tightening as he tried to haul her back toward his chest.

"Goddammit-why are you being such a psycho-.”

"Adrian-" Her voice cracked now, the anger breaking apart under the pain. He was already pushing himself up, one arm locked around her as he tried to drag her to her feet. She tried to focus on his mask, but it blurred into the night. "Please. She’s going to die-."

"I know!" The words came back loud enough to silence her. The shout was so unlike him that Cass froze.

Adrian shoved himself to one knee, still dragging her with him.

"I know, Cassie," he repeated. His voice cracked under the strain, so raw that Cass almost missed the nickname. "And I'd really like to get back to her sometime before sunrise, but you keep making that really fucking difficult-."

Another gunshot. Adrian’s upper half jerked and without looking around, he slowly unlatched a knife from his chest and flung it backwards. Cass didn’t hear the wet crunch. Paralyzing fear iced its way through her veins as he reached around to his back. At the base of his spine, he dug for a moment then produced a blood-stained bullet.

“Darn.”

Then, he slumped forward.

It was like the world stilled around her. Cass could only watch the teal and black suit as he lay on the grass beside her. No movement.

Icy, sickening dread overwhelmed her system, even overtaking the pain. The weight in her head was becoming unbearable. Slowly, she turned her head toward Harcourt. Then, down to her own jeans.

They were so soaked with blood they looked almost black.

Her head jerked toward the treeline where John had disappeared earlier. The woods swam in and out of focus. Please.

If he'd seen them...

If he'd seen Adrian fall...

She couldn't make out anything between the trees. No movement. No footsteps. Just drifting smoke and the ringing in her ears. She forced her eyes to the ruined barn. It swayed in and out of focus.

No Chris. No Adebayo.

Maybe they were dead too.

No one was coming.

She was going to die.

Harcourt was going to die, if she hadn’t already.

And Adrian. He was almost certainly dead. His recovery earlier had been nothing short of a miracle, but he’d just taken a bullet to the spine. A bullet that he would have avoided if he hadn’t been sitting there arguing with her.

If Cass had quit fighting him, if she had just let him do what he was begging her to do, they would have been halfway to the trees by the time the butterfly had come around.

The realization came slowly, like the steady drip of blood into the grass.

It was her fault.

It must have been her body going into shock, because Cass didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She simply stared at the teal-and-black suit lying beside her, the edges of it growing softer and softer until she could barely make out its shape.

She tried to call for John.

Nothing came out.

The effort made the clearing tilt violently around her.

She didn't want to die.

Adrian still hadn't taught her how to climb a fire escape.

Cass finally closed her eyes. The grass, thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood, brushed against her cheek. She didn't remember lying down.

Her last thought, before the heaviness pulled her under, was that they were supposed to have more time.

taglist: @tez0

[auddy-95]

In The Silence With You

Chapter 7

Pairing: Adrian Chase/female original character

Summary: A rewrite of season 1 and 2, with a new member of the team.

Cass was assigned to Project Butterfly because she had a problem with following orders. With her personal life crumbling around her, she finds comfort in an unlikely team member. Vigilante. 18+

Words: 6.7k

ao3 link

previous chapters

“Jesus Christ, why doesn’t anyone know how to pick up their phones?”

Cass continued to grumble under her breath as she swiped away the call screen, cutting off the sounds of Adebayo’s voicemail. Harcourt’s had been the first number she tried as she ran down the cement steps of the motel, yanking a sweater over her head. Adrian had been fast on her heels, digging for his car keys while simultaneously snapping buckles back into place on his suit.

“If I had known no one was going to pick up I would have banged my fist on their doors,” she grumbled, frantically dialing the third number. She glanced over at the speedometer. It was still dark outside. The sun hadn’t broken the horizon yet, so it took her a second to read the numbers. “Can’t you go a little bit faster?”

The teal and black mask tilted her direction. “Speeding is a serious crime. I could kill someone.”

Cass didn’t bother pointing out that due to it not even being dawn yet, Adrian’s car was the only one on the road. She focused back on his cellphone. Murn picked up on the second ring. It didn’t sound like he’d been sleeping.

“Vigilante? What is it?”

“It’s Wells. Listen, you have to turn on the news. I think your creepy friend is a butterfly. He’s told everyone about that diary they found and now there’s this big manhunt for Chris.”

As much as Murn intimidated her, Cass had an appreciation for his no-nonsense attitude in that moment. She could hear shuffling on the other end, like he was moving hurriedly around his living space. “I’ll tell the others. Where are you now?”

“Adrian and I are on our way back to Chris and John. If Chris saw that broadcast-.”

“-then he’s likely to do something stupid about it.” Cass was going to say rash, but she kept quiet. “Good thinking. Stop him and don’t come back to the motel. Butterflies keep the memories of their hosts. They’ll know now where we’ve staying. I’ll get the others and meet you there.”      

The line went dead.

***

“Chris!”

Cass shoved through the front door. The familiar smell of decaying wood and dust greeted her. The building was still dark, except for a few stray lamps but Cass knew he still had to be there. She and Adrian had seen the work van on their way in.

The front room was deserted and Cass stormed through. Adrian followed.

“What are the chances he hasn’t seen the broadcast and he’s resting peacefully somewhere in here?” Cass asked, poking her head into each room they passed.

A faint blue light came from the back room. They hurried to it, finding a television set flickering with a rerun of the broadcast. For a second time that morning, that horrid face loomed at her. Beside it, stuffing what appeared to be an array of weapons into a black bag, was Chris.

“I’m gonna guess those chances really low,” Adrian mumbled into her ear. “Like in the basement.”

“Chris, whatever you’re doing just wait.” Cass started towards him, getting hold of the black bag and blocking him from dropping a handful of knives into it. “We saw the press conference too. We can figure this out together, okay? Everyone will be here-.”

“We have to get the fuck out of here,” He interrupted her sharply. He moved her hands out of the way and dropped the knives. “That guy is supposed to be on our side.”

“We know. The team will be here-.”

“Team,” Chris scoffed, a sardonic grin slipping onto his face. “What fucking team, Wells? Everyone is lying to everyone. Or at least to me. Probably you too because you were just as confused about whole fucking cow dilemma. I didn’t write a fucking diary-.”

“Chris, I know that.” Cass was getting desperate. Her voice was growing softer, breathier, as she pleaded.

“-which means someone planted it in my trailer.” He ripped the black bag from the table and slung it over his shoulder as he stalked in the direction of the back door. “Adebayo fucked me.”

“How?”

Cass hurried after him. John appeared in a nearby doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes and appearing completely confused, but followed after Cass gave him a sharp look.

“She’s the only one whose been in my trailer, besides you and Adrian. It couldn’t have been either of you because you were with me the whole time.” He ducked into another room, appearing back within seconds with another bag, this one containing numerous, clanging helmets. He jerked a thumb in the room’s direction as he carried on. “Judomaster is missing by the way.”

“Wait, Adebayo-Judomaster-Chris, wait up!”

Cass barely had time to glance in the empty room, to the empty swinging cuffs on the couch, before following Chris outside.

“Judomaster?” Adrian asked as the door slammed behind John. “Isn’t he the one who fucked your face up?”

Cass couldn’t answer him. Her brain could only process one crisis at a time and Chris was currently tossing the two black duffel bags into the back of the work van. Shit. Shit. Shit. Where were the others?

“I knew I couldn’t trust any of them. Come on Adrian. We’re going to go kill this cow ourselves.”

“We are? Sweet.”

Cass grabbed the back of his suit as he passed by her, halting him in his tracks. “No! We are not leaving without everybody else. We’re going to wait here and get everything straightened out first. I really don’t see why she would have framed you, Chris. Can we please just wait-.”

“No.” He whistled for Eagly. The bird appeared overhead, swooping elegantly into the van. He tossed the keys to John. “I’m leaving to kill this cow now. The rest of you can come if you want.”

Cass sighed, her fingers still tight on the back of Adrian’s suit. He wasn’t fighting against her grasp, but he definitely wasn’t falling in step beside her like she hoped. She glanced around, hoping to see one of the others’ cars approaching, but the street was empty.

How soon until the butterflies showed up there? And was it really wise to let Chris go off alone without someone responsible keeping an eye on him? John might have been climbing into the driver’s seat, but Cass didn’t really think he’d be able to sway Chris into making any sane decisions.

Hell. Who was she kidding? She’d lost control of the entire situation.

She let go off Adrian’s suit and when she jerked her head in the direction of the van and folded her arms, he gave an enthusiastic pump into the air.

“This is so fucking sick.”

His voice was pure glee as he hopped into the back of the van. A gloved hand immediately appeared in the doorway, extended toward her.

“No. Not fucking sick.” Cass huffed as she took it and let him pull her inside. “This is bad. Very bad, actually.”

“Agree to disagree.”

He pulled her in with one, fluid yank of his arm. Cass stumbled slightly, colliding a little too hard with his armor covered chest. His grip tightened and a second hand appeared on her elbow, steadying her as the red visor angled down her direction.

For a split second she remembered green eyes behind crooked glasses. The memory arrived so suddenly it caught her off guard.

“Are you two getting in the fucking van or not?”

Cass dropped Adrian’s hand, heat creeping up her neck as she ignored Chris’s pointed glare from the passenger seat. She slid onto an empty bench, determinedly avoiding Adrian’s direction as he took the one across from her.

She was being stupid. Stupid.

There were significantly bigger problems in her life than accidentally getting flustered over a hand on her elbow.

For example, the alien invasion or the fact that they were currently barreling toward a giant extraterrestrial cow with absolutely no plan or the possibility that Adebayo had somehow framed Peacemaker for murder.

Any one of those deserved her attention more than Adrian Chase.

The van lurched forward and Cass stared resolutely out the window, pretending not to notice the red visor still pointed at her from across the van.

***

Music blared from the speakers. Cass was beginning to suspect Chris physically couldn't ride in a vehicle unless the volume was high enough to rattle the windows. John didn't appear bothered. He remained silent in the driver's seat, hands steady on the wheel. Thankfully, Eagly stayed in one spot, occasionally lifting a wing to ruffle his feathers.

Across from her, Adrian bobbed his head along to the music while loading various guns. Metal clicked and snapped together in time with the beat, as casual as if he were organizing a toolbox instead of preparing for a firefight.

Cass fidgeted, unable to keep her foot from tapping repeatedly as she watched the morning sunlight stream through the windshield.

“You’re looking a little down, Wells!” Chris shouted over an impossibly loud guitar solo. He spun in his seat to point at her. “This is rock and roll time!”

“Chris, stop it,” she huffed. She wasn't even sure he could hear her over the music, but she supposed it didn't matter. He'd already started air-guitaring across the dashboard. “We still haven’t heard anything from Ads or Harcourt-.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Adrian replied cheerfully. He clicked another magazine into place. “They can handle themselves.”

“What if the butterflies got to them?” Cass leaned forward on the bench, tilting her head to force Adrian to look her in the eye. When he did, he froze with the gun half-assembled. “Adrian, I’m serious. I’m really worried about them.”

There was a beat and when he huffed out an exhale, he shoved the gun away as well. “Okay. We'll keep calling. If they're alive, they'll answer eventually-."

The world exploded sideways.

It was as though a train hit the side of the van. Metal shrieked. Glass shattered. Cass was thrown forward from the bench, slamming into Adrian as the van tipped on its side. Pain erupted around her body and he grabbed her instinctively. The two of them slammed into the floor of the van and rolled, tangled together as loose weapons and equipment crashed around them.

As quickly as it started, the van stopped moving.

A high-pitched ringing filled her ears. Cass didn’t have to feel her forehead to know her stitches had opened up. Again.

"Is everyone okay?" she coughed. The words came out as a wheeze.

She tried to push herself upright and immediately discovered she was tangled with Adrian. He'd ended up in a half-seated position against the wall of the van, her back pressed against his chest. Between the overturned vehicle and the pile of limbs, armor, and weapons, standing proved difficult.

"Cass?"

"I'm fine."

A hand appeared in front of her face. It was Chris. With one sharp pull, he hauled her to her feet before reaching down to do the same for Adrian. Off to the side, there was a ruffle of feathers and Eagly screeched unhappily.

"John?"

"I think I'm alive."

The reply came from somewhere near the tilted driver's seat. There was the sound of glass shifting and crunching. A second later, Cass spotted him moving. Relief washed through her.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded. “Did we get hit by a tank-?”

A loud groan cut her off.

Everyone froze.

More crunching metal echoed through the overturned van. This time, the sound came from the floor, or what was now the wall directly in front of them. Cracks spiderwebbed across the metal. Then, something punched through.

A white armored glove appeared through the hole.

Cass stared as steel bent inward around it. With a violent screech of tearing metal, a second gloved hand joined the first. The fingers curled around the jagged opening. Then they ripped it wider. Daylight spilled through the gap and a familiar helmet, that Cass had only seen in reports and news clippings, appeared.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Chris went rigid beside her. Standing outside the van was Auggie Smith.

The White Dragon.

“Dad?” Chris’s voice was pure confusion next to her. “What are you doing?”

The white, armored gloves were raised. Light and heat appeared at the ends and Cass had the horrifying realization that the butterflies were not going to be what ended up killing her that day, before the blast.

Cass shoved Chris as heat exploded from his father’s armor. It missed her by inches, scorching the metal behind them. John was already yanking the two of them towards the door on the other end. Cass turned, looking for Adrian but the White Dragon was raising the armored gloves again, light beginning to appear-.

Gunfire filled the cramped space. Adrian stood in the middle of the wreckage, a guns raised in each hand. The weapons roared. Bullets hammered through the opening, forcing White Dragon to duck back as sparks exploded from his armor.

John successfully pulled Chris through the exit. Eagly flew through, disappearing somewhere above them. Cass reached for Adrian.

He didn't even look at her. Instead, he stepped toward Chris's father.

A cold, sick feeling dropped into her stomach.

"Vij!" she screamed, but her voice vanished beneath the roar of gunfire.

Chris and John grabbed her before she could run after him. They hauled her through the opening, but Cass fought them every step of the way, twisting and shoving against their grip.

“Wells-Cass-we have to go!” John was yelling, desperately trying to get her to the tree line.

“Go!” she urged them, ripping Chris’s arms off her. “Go Chris! He’s after you! Get out of here!”

Chris looked ready to argue, but John didn’t give him a chance. Cass didn’t watch them go. She ran around the overturned van, heart pounding so loudly in her ears as she rounded the corner and saw him there. Saw Adrian, his back towards her as he faced over a dozen of the White Dragon’s followers and the White Dragon himself. She watched as the guns fell and two grenades appeared in each hand.

Realization dawned on her too late.

Another explosion. Loud and deafening. The blast knocked the breath from her lungs. She hit the ground hard, skidding over gravel and glass.

For a moment, she wasn’t aware of anything. Just a ringing noise. Smoke. Stray debris floating down from the sky.  Then she blinked and panic seized her chest.

She almost called out Adrian’s name.

“Vij?”

Unfamiliar, rough hands yanked her from the ground. Her shoes scrambled for purchase, sliding on the gravel.

“Boss! We got one of them!”

The shout cut through the ringing in her ears. Still trying to rip herself from their grasp, her head snapped up to see two men in white masks. Cass twisted violently.

“Let go of me!” she said through clenched teeth. The men laughed, shoving her to her knees. Cass tried to reach behind her and claw at the hands on her back, but one of them grabbed a fistful of her hair and a pained cry ripped through her throat. She stopped thrashing.

There was no sign of Adrian. Only a black, smoking spot in the middle of the road by the upturned van. The White Dragon was getting to his feet, the front of his armor blackened. A few of his followers were helping him up and he shoved them away.

His gaze landed on Cass. Her pulse quickened as he stalked her direction, closing the distance between them. She immediately began struggling again, but the hand in her hair tightened until tears sprang to her eyes

“Where’s Christopher?”

Cass glowered. “Getting as far away from you as possible.”

For a moment, she thought he might attack her. Instead, White Dragon looked past her. It was as though he didn’t want to waste his time on her.

"You all," he barked, pointing at several of his followers, "into the woods. Christopher couldn't have gotten far."

The men immediately took off running. The White Dragon pointed at the two holding Cass.

"You stay here." His helmet tilted slightly toward her. "If my idiot son comes back looking for her, kill him."

Cass's blood ran cold. She watched as the group went into the woods, in the same direction John and Chris had fled. John. Chris. Adrian. She didn’t know which one of them she should be worried about more. Chris and John had a dozen cultist, racists on their tail and Adrian was…she had no idea where Adrian was. He’d been alive enough to leave the road, she only hoped he remained that way.

Without warning, one of the hands on her tightened again and Cass winced.

“Let go of my hair,” she hissed.

The hand released her, shoving her forward. Hard. She hit the road, her face smacking into the ground. Hot, thick blood poured from her nose and the men above her laughed. Setting her jaw and wiping her face with her sleeve, Cass turned on the ground and glared at them.

"Wow," she muttered, spitting out blood from her mouth. "Two grown men picking on someone half their size. You must feel really tough."

The white masks just chuckled darkly. Only one had a gun in his hand, but for Cass that was still too many. There was no way she could take them.

“Keep quiet, bitch.” The closest one said. “Or I’ll give your mouth something else to do.”

Cass didn’t see where the knife came from. One second, the one with the gun was laughing behind his mask and the next, he crumpled to the ground. The rifle slipped from his hands as he hit the pavement.

For a heartbeat, nobody moved.

Then Cass saw the familiar knife buried to the hilt in the side of his neck and relief hit her so hard she felt dizzy.

“What the fu-?” The other masked man didn’t even had time to finish pulling the gun from the back of his jeans. Cass scrambled backward as Adriaan appeared from the treeline, launching himself forward and tackling the man to the ground.

There was a second of a scuffle, then Adrian’s fist raised once. Then, twice. Then, a third time and the man stopped moving below him. Silence settled over the road. She scrambled across the asphalt and reached him just as he shoved the unconscious man aside.

“Adrian!” she started, grabbing his back as he started to sway. “Oh my god, you’re okay. How did you-.”

The words died in her throat. Adrian wasn’t okay. He was breathing far too heavily. One side of his visor was cracked. The left side of his armor was blackened and warped from the explosion. She could see torn flesh through slices in the armor. Blood steadily dripped down the suit.

Something cold settled in her chest.

“You’re really hurt.” The words cracked in her throat. Adrian rose fully to his feet. His chest rose and fell in deep, uneven breaths. “You’re bleeding way too much.”

He looked down at himself.

“Oh.”

Then, his knees buckled. Cass barely managed to catch him before he hit the road. For a second, his whole weight landed on her and paralyzing fear ripped through Cass. Then, his feet found purchase and she shifted, holding him up tightly around the middle.

“Hospital,” she said suddenly, her voice strained under his weight. She began looking frantically around. The van wasn’t an option, but just a little way down the road she saw several empty cars. They must have belonged to the White Dragon’s followers. She started towards them. “We’re going to a hospital and you’re going to be okay.”

“No hospital.” His voice came out rough through the damaged visor. Worse, she could hear something wet underneath each breath. “We gotta find Peacemaker-.”

“You are bleeding everywhere!” she said through her teeth. She tightened her grip around him and continued hauling him toward the nearest car. “I am taking you to the nearest hospital and that’s final.”

“I’ll be fine. I just-I just have to get some rest-.”

Tears sprung in her eyes. Angry frustration rolled through her and Cass almost growled out her next words. “Adrian, I am not watching you bleed out. Chris will be fine-.”

“He wouldn’t have left me.” He coughed and it was horrifyingly wet. “Or you. We’ve got to find him. Cass, I swear-just let me sleep.”

“Adrian shut up,” she ground out. They were almost to the car. More of his weight was falling onto her and Cass shifted his arm over her shoulder. “Just shut up.”

“You gotta-gotta find Chris.” His words were beginning to slur together. “His dad will kill him.”

“We'll find Chris after you're not dying.”

“M'not dying.”

“Wonderful. Then you can tell me all about it from a hospital bed.”

Adrian made a weak sound that might have been a laugh.  His boots dragged against the pavement.

“Adrian?”

His head had dipped forward. The cracked, red visor was pointed at the ground.

“Hey.”

She shook him. His head lifted slightly.

“'M awake.” The response was barely audible.

Cass cursed under breath. They had made it to the car. Cass wrenched open the back door, successfully shoving him into the back seat. Adrian slumped down, taking up the entirety of the back. Blood smeared on the seats. She was just about to slam the door shut when he mumbled something else. “The bags.”

Shit. Chris’s helmets and the bag of weapons. Cass didn't want to waste another second. Every instinct was screaming at her to get in the driver's seat and floor it toward the nearest emergency room, but Adrian was right. If White Dragon's people came back and found all that equipment, it could turn into another disaster.

“Don't move,” she said.

A faint thumbs-up appeared from somewhere inside the back seat.

Cass stared at it for half a second, then turned and sprinted to the overturned van. The bag of helmets was easy to find, but Adrian had been midway through preparing the weapons when the van crashed. It took her precious seconds to locate the scattered guns and ammunition, shoving them hurriedly into the second duffel before racing back to the car.

She threw both duffel bags into the trunk, before hurrying into the front seat. The keys were still in the ignition. Stupid racist assholes. The car rumbled to life and the wheels squealed as Cass slammed onto the acceleration.

She glanced in the rearview mirror. Adrian wasn’t moving, but his chest was still rising and falling. Good. That was good.

The road blurred beneath them as Cass gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make her hands ache. Every few seconds, her eyes flicked back to the mirror. Still breathing.

Then, out of nowhere, movement exploded from the tree line. Cass slammed on the brakes and the car skidded sideways across the road. Her heart leapt into her throat before she recognized the figures sprinting toward them.

"Chris!"

Peacemaker burst from the trees first, missing his helmet and covered in dirt and scratches. John wasn't far behind him, panting heavily. Both of them looked wildly relieved. Chris raced to the driver’s side and yanked open the door.

“Move. Move. Move!” He shouted, shoving her sideways out of the seat.

“Jesus-okay!” she grumbled, scrambling awkwardly into the backseat. John was climbing into the passenger seat and she could hear Eagly somewhere outside. She gingerly lifted Adrian’s head and settled it onto her lap. He still wasn’t moving. Cass inched her fingers into his gloves and felt a faint pulse. “Chris, Adrian got hurt.”

“We can’t worry about that now.” Chris slammed on the gas pedal. “We’ve got to put as much space in between us and my dad as possible.”

Cass glowered. Heat flickered in her chest. “He’s like this because he wanted to buy you more time. A little more compassion for your best friend might be nice.”

“Listen, I’m thankful and everything but that’s not going to matter if the rest of us end up killed anyway.” He looked at her in rearview mirror. “And for the record, you look like shit too.”

Cass opened her mouth to argue, but Adrian shifted slightly against her legs. Instantly, both she and Chris fell silent.

“Adrian?” she asked.

Nothing.

John turned in his seat, eyeing the both of them. "How much of the blood is his?"

Cass looked down. Blood soaked the suit. Her jeans. Her hands. The backseat. It was caked on her face. She really couldn't tell anymore.

"I don't know." She kept her fingers dipped just below the black glove, the pulse there holding almost every ounce of her attention. “How did your dad know to find you anyway?”

“It was stupid,” Chris muttered. “I should have known better. He was tracking my helmets. Thank God we left them at the van.”

Cass froze and the guilt must have been written on her face because instantly narrowed his eyes at her in the rearview mirror.

“What?”

“I didn’t know,” she started in a soft voice. “I thought it would be a good idea to grab them.”

Chris slammed on the breaks. John grabbed the dashboard.

“Wells!”

“How was I supposed to know your racist supervillain dad was secretly tracking your headgear?” she shouted a little defensively.

Chris swore and threw the car into park.  Before Cass could respond, he was already climbing out of the car.

“Where are you going?” John asked.

“To get rid of the damn helmets!” The driver's door slammed behind him.

Cass sank back against the seat and glanced back down at Adrian. His chest was still moving and, it might have just been wishful thinking, but Cass thought the breaths seemed more even. Less wet. Frowning, she took a second to check his pulse again. Did it feel stronger?

Yelling came from outside the car. Shouting. Cass turned in her seat and her stomach dropped. Chris, bagless, was sprinting from the woods. Dozens of white masks burst from the trees. They were closing the distance fast. They were going to reach him before he got to the car.

“John, go.” Cass said immediately. “Run, now!”

John didn’t need to be told twice. The passenger side door open and he fell out, scrambling the opposite way from the crowd. Cass opened her door, before grabbing both sides of Adrian’s masked face.

“Hey, you gotta wake up,” she plead. “I really really need you to wake up. I cant carry you, Adrian.”

He shifted in her lap. The shouts were closer.

“Adrian,” she whispered. “Please-.”

Hands ripped her from the car. Cass screamed, her fingers clawing at the door frame. Her feet kicked as she was dragged upwards. The grip on her arm only tightened. Cass twisted  and caught sight of a white mask inches from her face. Adrenaline surged through her. She drove her elbow backward as hard as she could.

The man only grunted. It hadn’t been hard enough.

She was lifted off her feet as large, beefy arms constricted around her. Somewhere nearby, a shrill screech cut through the chaos. Cass whipped her head toward the sound. Eagly was crumbled on the ground at the White Dragon’s feet. He wasn’t moving.

Then, she saw Chris running at his father.

“Kick his ass Chris!” she shouted. A large, sweaty hand immediately clamped over her mouth and Cass bit down.

The man yelped and jerked his hand away.

“Fucking bitch!”

“Racist bitch!” Cass shot back.

White Dragon and Chris collided a second later. She kicked backward, caught someone's shin, and was rewarded with a string of curses Around her, the fight between father and son became a blur of white armor, flying fists, and gravel.

Then White Dragon got Chris on the ground.

Cass's stomach dropped. She tried to shout a warning, but the sweaty hand was back over her mouth, digging painfully into her cheeks to keep her from biting. Her scream came out muffled.

Light began gathering at the ends of White Dragon's armored gloves.

“Dude! Theres weak spots in the armor!”

Adrian came out of nowhere. The knife in his hand plunged into the armor with a shower of sparks. The White Dragon roared behind his mask. The glowing gauntlets flickered and died instantly. For a split second, every one of his followers froze.

Cass didn't.

She stomped on the foot of the man holding her. He flinched and that was all she needed. Cass twisted and sank her teeth into his hand. The man howled and Cass hit the pavement as he shoved her away. A second later, White Dragon seized Adrian and threw him. He slammed into the road beside her, skidding across the asphalt with a heavy groan. Cass crawled, grabbing his shoulders in a frantic panic.

“You’re-you’re okay?”

He didn’t get to answer. Guns clicked around them and Cass didn’t have to turn to know that every single one of his followers had their guns trained on them. Adrian grabbed her, but it was too late. Gunfire exploded around them.

Cass ducked on instinct, but the pain never came. Blinking up through her fingers, she watched as the masked men crumpled to the ground in a shower of bullets and blood. On the other side of the road, looking just as surprised as she felt, stood John with a raised gun in his hand.

A grin spread across his face and Cass felt hers do the same.

But then there was a cough beneath her hands, and her attention shot back down to the teal and black suit in front of her.

“How are you awake right now?” she demanded, hands going to the tear in the armor. A gloved hand grabbed her wrist and Cass shot a disapproving look to the red visor. “You were just bleeding out in the back of that car.”

“I just needed some rest.”

Cass stared at him. "That is not how blood loss works."

Adrian shrugged or at least attempted to. The motion ended in a groan. She opened her mouth to argue, but a gunshot cracked through the air.

Cass jumped.

Everything went silent. Adrian stilled under hands. Slowly, she turned.

White Dragon stood frozen in the middle of the road. Then Auggie Smith toppled sideways and hit the pavement with a heavy thud.

Peacemaker lowered his pistol.

***

Cass wasn’t very good at handling her own emotions.

She didn’t like deep delving into why she felt a certain way and she wasn’t particularly worried if the methods she did choose were healthy. A prime example? Allowing a masked mad man to sleep on her couch because he knifed her abusive ex to a wall.

So, Cass didn’t really question it when Chris didn’t want her sympathy. When his knees crashed to the road and the stray tears fell nearly as soon as his father did, Cass had gone to him. She knelt beside him. For a moment, she thought he might tell her to leave him alone. Instead, he stayed where he was.

So, Cass put a hand on his shoulder and when the occasional sob shook through his chest, she stayed.

Nearby, John stood awkwardly beside the road, looking like he had absolutely no idea what to do with himself.

Adrian wasn't much better.

Despite having been on the verge of bleeding out less than twenty minutes ago, he'd somehow managed to get back to his feet. Now he lingered a few yards away, silent behind the cracked red visor.

It wasn’t until Cass whispered the words “I’m sorry Chris,” that his head snapped up. Chris rose quickly, gently but firmly shoving Cass’s hands off him and saying something about getting Eagly to a vet. For a few beats, Cass watched him go. Adrian appeared beside her.

“Why are we crying about killing a fucking white supremist?” he muttered, watching Chris’s retreating form.

“Stop it,” she hissed, looping an arm around his middle to help him walk. “That’s still his dad.”

“Yeah, but still.” A pained grunt slipped out behind the mask as they started toward the car. He was limping, but nowhere near as badly as he should have been. “If my dad was a raging racist that tried to incinerate me and all my friends, I don’t think I would be too bothered about killing him.”

She gave him a look, that he ignored. “He’s allowed to be sad that he had to kill his dad.”

“I wish I had known this would mess him up so bad,” Adrian said, in what Cass almost believed was a sympathetic voice. “I would have tried harder to kill him myself.”

Cass sighed. “Adrian.”

“What?”

“You can’t say things like that.”

“Oh.” He had the decency to sound genuinely surprised. “Sorry.”

***

The waiting room smelled of disinfectant and wet dog.

John got them there in record time. The second the car stopped, Chris was out the door. He sprinted across the parking lot with Eagly limp in his arms, disappearing through the clinic's front entrance before anyone else had even unbuckled their seatbelt.

Cass watched him go and felt a rush of sadness.

She and Eagly may not have been best friends, but she didn’t want him to die. She couldn’t stand the idea of Chris having another devastating loss.

The vet clinic was mostly empty. It was too early in the morning for normal hours, so the only staff on call were currently in the back with Eagly.  It was a good thing too, because she was pretty she and Adrian would have denied entry based on how much blood covered the two of them.

John had disappeared into the back with Chris, which left Cass alone with Adrian. She didn’t wait long before acting. Gripping the front of Adrian's armor, she dragged him toward the empty hallway and immediately shoved him into the first vacant exam room she found.

“What are you-?”

Cass didn’t let him finish. Her hands immediately went to the buckles on his shoulders, then the straps across his chest. Adrian's gloved hands moved to stop her, but Cass yanked herself free and kept going. “Hey, I’m fine. Really.”

Pieces of teal and black fell away, revealing the torn shirt he wore underneath. The torn flesh was visible. Cass set her jaw and reach around the back of his head, successfully pulling off his mask. She didn’t understand the look in his eyes. Confusion, maybe. Cass didn’t care. She threw the mask on the nearby exam table and before furiously pulling open the door of the nearest cabinet.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Cass, really-.”

“Adrian, do not do this right now.” She found what she needed. Gauze. Antiseptic. Medical tape. It would have to do. “I thought I was going to have to watch you bleed out right in front of me so just take off your fucking shirt.”

The words came out harsher than she intended. Angrier. That might have been the reason why when finally turned around, Adrian was pulling the shirt over his head without argument.

It was somehow worse than she imagined. Beneath the alarming amount of dried blood coating his skin, dark bruises spread across his side and chest. Purple, red, and black stained his skin like spilled paint, and just looking at them made a lump form in Cass's throat. Then, there were the gashes. Long tears of raw flesh that should have still been bleeding, but somehow wasn't.

“Oh, Adrian.”

The t-shirt fell next to the mask. Adrian looked down at himself, before looking back at Cass. Without his glasses, his eyes seemed wider. More alarmed. More uncertain.

He ran a hand through the messy curls on his forehead. The muscles on his arms flexed, but Cass didn’t miss his wince. “Trust me. I’ve had way worse.”

“You should be in a hospital,” she said in a quiet, harsh voice. She dumped the medical supplies on the table, before uncapping the antiseptic. A sharp, burning smell filled the room. “You were losing consciousness-there’s no way you should be able to walk across a room right now.”

Adrian shrugged, watching as she prepped the supplies. “The nap in the car really helped.”

Cass shook her head. “I thought you were going to stop breathing there in my lap. I couldn’t stop feeling your pulse.”

She pressed a rag, doused in antiseptic, to the first gash. Adrian hissed and his hands grabbed the exam table, his knuckles white.

“Fuck.” The word came out low and ground out through clenched teeth. Cass glanced at his face, not used to hearing that tone from him. “I don’t think they’d want us using their stuff.”

“They can bill me.” She pulled the rag back. It was covered in red and brown. She doused it again. I’ve accepted I won’t lose you to blood loss, so now it’s time to rule out infection.”

Adrian laughed, but it was cut short when she pressed the rag against the open flesh. The muscles in his jaw jumped. “I think you’re enjoying this.”

“I think I would be going a lot slower if I did.”

Cass pressed the rag for a final time, carefully wiping the edges of the torn flesh. The veins in Adrian’s hands pressed against his flesh and Cass tried not to stare at them.

“You’re covered in blood too, you know.”

She blinked up at him and he motioned to her face.

“Oh. Yeah. One of those creeps shoved me. I hit my face on the ground. My nose bled some.”

Adrian frowned. “Broken?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Just sore.”

There was another beat of silence then, “Did I already kill him?”

“Yes.” Cass started to unwind the gauze. “I think you stabbed him in the neck, if I’m recalling correctly but I nearly lost you to blood loss immediately after, so the details are a little fuzzy.”

“Good.”

With careful fingers, Cass began wrapping the gauze around his ribs, securing it over the worst of the wounds. The fresh bandages stood out starkly against bruised skin.

Up close, the damage looked even worse. Not just the new injuries, but the scars that littered his body as well.

Thin white lines crossed his stomach and sides. Others disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants or vanished around his back. Some looked old and faded. Others were thicker, more jagged. The kind left by knives or bullets or things Cass didn't particularly want to imagine.

How many times had he patched himself up and moved on?

Adrian sat unnaturally quiet while she worked, seemingly oblivious to where her attention had drifted. Cass swallowed and focused on securing the bandage. If they survived the next twenty-four hours, maybe then she would ask Adrian about his scars.

“You know,” Adrian said, suddenly. “You’re really good at this. I’ve never had someone patch me up before.”

Cass smiled as she placed another piece of medical tape. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. Theres never really been anyone who offered.” He shrugged, nonchalantly. “Also, the idea of someone touching me like this sounds a literal nightmare. I can’t fucking stand it when people touch my skin.”

Cass paused. “What?”

“Yeah, the whole skin-on-skin thing?” His body shuddered. “Fucking disgusting.”

“Oh my God.” She immediately snatched her hands away from his side.

Adrian frowned. “What?”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

Memories flashed through her head. Falling asleep next to him on the couch. Leaning against his chest. Grabbing his arm when she was upset. The time she'd practically begged him to hold her after a nightmare.

Horror flooded her.

“Adrian, I am so sorry.”

He looked completely lost. “For what?”

“All the times I've-.” Cass made a vague gesture between them. “Touched you?”

Understanding finally dawned.

“Oh.” Adrian’s mouth quirked. “No, you don’t count. I like it when you touch me.”

The words were so matter-of-fact that it took her brain a full second to catch up. Adrian, apparently satisfied that he'd cleared up the misunderstanding, simply waited for her to continue. Cass’s mouth snapped shut. Then, open again. There was no sound.

Before she could figure out how to respond to that, a loud ringing erupted from one of the compartments in Adrian’s discarded suit.

Both of them jumped. After scrambling through the pile of armor on the exam table, Cass finally pulled out his cell phone.

Harcourt’s name flashed across the screen.

taglist: @tez0

[loves-alibi]

kiss your screen every time you see a typo or grammatical error in my fics because it means it's home grown and not some ai bullshit and im dead serious about this

[auddy-95]

Before Five-Kingdon One Shot

Pairing: Melissa *Mel* King/Frank Langdon

Summary: Prologue to Five Times Out of nowhere, Dr. Langdon starts ignoring her and Mel can't take it. She decides to find out why.

Warnings: language

read below or on ao3

Mel squinted through the glass of security’s office. The fingers she had knotted into the back of Langdon’s t-shirt tightened as she rose on her toes. He was little worried about her losing her footing, since the only thing on her feet were a pair of fuzzy pink socks, but she’d been insistent on walking through the ED and leaving her wheelchair at the elevators. So, he readjusted the grip he had around her middle, gritting his teeth slightly at the burn in his spine.  

“This is…” Mel’s eyes scanned the board. “Wildly impressive.”

“Right? This is the most effort this group of people has ever put into anything and they save multiple lives every day. I’m dying to know what the pot is up to.”

“$1038.” Santos appeared on Mel’s other side. “It’s been like five days so if you two could hurry up and tell us who got it right that would be great. Huckleberry and I want to buy a new couch.”

She glared at him over Mel’s head. He returned the favor. Over the past few days, Mel had a steady stream of visitors upstairs. Santos had been one of the first ones and Langdon had been quick to leave the room to give them privacy. The door hadn’t even fully shut before he heard the heard the words why him being whined to his girlfriend.

“Sorry, we had to make sure Mel was going to live through the night before we could check out the betting board.”

Mel pinched him in the ribs and he grinned.

“Oh, please. We all knew she was going to be fine.” Santos dramatically rolled her eyes. “Now, come on. I staked fifty dollars on this. How much of it did I get right?”

There were so many post its on the board it took him a second to find hers. It was right in between a bright green one that said hooked up in the parking lot after fourth of July, Langdon started it, Mel refuses to call him anything but Dr. Langdon and a neon yellow one that said-.

“Hey! Who the fuck wrote I cried the first time?”

There was cackling from the nurse’s station. Scowling, he ripped that one from the wall and crumbled it. Santos snorted.

“Well, you were very emotional,” Mel said softly, looking up at him.

“Yeah, emotional. Not fucking crying.”

He ripped down two more that said the same thing. There was more laughter from somewhere behind him. Even Mel giggled lightly into his side. “Keep it up, King. As soon as your six weeks of recovery are up, I’ll cry all over you.”

Her nose wrinkled and he barked a laugh, before focusing in on the board. He could tell everyone was waiting to hear the verdict and Mel didn’t have long before the nurses upstairs started hunting for her. They’d allowed only him to take her on a short walk since he was employed as a doctor at the same hospital, but he didn’t want to test their patience.

“Okay, let’s start getting rid of some of these.”

He crumbled the most ridiculous ones first; ones that claimed Mel fell for him first or that their relationship started much earlier than it had. He didn’t like Mel reading those and, unfortunately, there were a lot of them. That had been one of her biggest worries in the beginning; that she had somehow been responsible for the ending of a marriage and for his kids having to divide their time into two households.

Even though he’d managed to convince her his marriage was doomed from the start and she wasn’t a homewrecker, Mel was still concerned people would think otherwise.

Langdon knew she saw all the ones that dated their relationship from before he stopped wearing his ring, because her grip tightened on the back of his shirt. She frowned at the handful of post its he had crushed in his hand.

“Ignore those,” he said, tossing them into the nearby trash. “People are stupid. Here look-there’s some fun ones. This one says we fucked for the first time in the family bathroom. Theres an idea.”

Mel scowled, but he didn’t miss the flush of red creeping up her neck.

“What? Supply closets are fine, but a bathroom is where you draw the line?”

“Oh my fucking God. Enough.” Santos clamped her hands over her ears, slamming her eyes shut like being unable to see would make her deaf. “I don’t need a running list of the places you’ve taken advantage of her here.”

“Keep talking and we'll give everyone something new to bet on.”

“Frank!” Mel glowered at him, her face turning bright red. “Stop it.”

“Don’t. Call. Him. Frank!” Santos still had her hands clamped tightly over her ears. “Jesus, this is my fucking nightmare. Will you please just tell me if I can buy a new couch this weekend?”

Deciding it was time to put Santos out of her misery, but only because Mel was looking like she might swing on him, he grabbed hers off the wall. “No. Sorry. It started way before Javadi’s party.”

“Ugh, seriously? I so got the vibe you guys hooked up after that.”

“Oh we definitely did.” Langdon’s tossed hers in the trash. “Just not for the first time.”

He was thoroughly convinced Mel’s face couldn’t get any redder. He found it slightly endearing and pressed his lips to the top of her braid as he looked back over the post its that remained.

Likes to wear weird condoms. Definitely Abbot. He didn’t even write in a timeline to bet on, just wanted to throw out that obscure fact.

Started exactly two months after his first day back. Robby. Cheater. He tore that one in two.

“We got a winner.” He snatched the bright orange post it off the wall between two fingers and raised it above his head. “They win the whole pot. They got it all right.”

Santos cursed. There was collective groan from dozens of employees behind him, followed by one exuberant yell. The post it was ripped from his hand. After being the most popular people in the room for the last five minutes, he and Mel were unceremoniously forgotten. A small crowd had formed around Whitaker, some praising him and some condemning him, as he held the winning post it.

“Well, I guess we’re useless to all of them now,” Langdon muttered. He did a quick check that the ties of her hospital gown that he’d quadrupled knotted were still secure and helped her back into the cardigan she’d worn on the way down. As he guided her back towards the doors of the emergency department, no one looked their way. “The amount of thought they put into our sex life was real heartwarming.”

“I guess so. It’s a little embarrassing though.”

As they walked away, they watched Whitaker get handed the stack of cash. Langdon wondered if that meant he got to pick out the couch that went in their apartment.

Probably not.

“It won’t be too long and our relationship will be old news. There’ll be something else to gossip about.” He shoved open the double doors, thankful Mel’s wheelchair was where he left it. If he brought her back up without it, the nurses there would kick his ass for sure. “So, see? Everyone finding out wasn’t so bad.”

Even as he helped her sit down, she managed to shoot him a look. “I saw all those bets that said we started sleeping together before you and Abby ended things.”

“Yeah, well the people who wrote those don’t matter, so who cares. We both know Abby and the kids like you more than me and that’s all that’s important.” He pushed her into the elevator. There were a couple of surgical techs in a corner, so he leaned down to her ear when he continued speaking. “I’m just glad no one knows you assaulted me in the parking garage. That would have been embarrassing.”

“I did not!”

“You did.” The elevator let out a ding. The surgical techs departed and the doors closed, leaving them alone. “That’s okay. It kind of turned me on.”

Mel whipped her head back around, some annoyed retort already halfway out of her mouth but he was quicker. Ducking his head, he gave her a swift kiss. A surprised squeak came from somewhere in her throat and he smiled, before giving her another quick peck on the tip of her nose. She huffed and straightened her glasses, but the lines in her face had noticeably softened.

“Well,” she grumbled, facing forward in her chair again. “When I get cleared in six weeks, I’ll just start smacking you around then.”

Langdon bit back a laugh.

***

2 months after July 4th

Her eyes followed the hand on the clock. She waited for it to make a complete lap around all the numbers. Then, she watched it do it again. And again. And again.

It was well past time for her to go home. Patients had been handed off. Night shift made their rounds. Most of the day shift had gone home, but Mel was tempted to ask Abbot or Shen if she could work a double.

She didn’t want to go home. There was nothing waiting for there.

“Let’s go, sweet cheeks.” Dana appeared by her side. She was already wearing her faded jacket. Holding an unlit cigarette, she ushered Mel from her chair. “It’s long past due for us to be getting out of here. Go get your things.”

“Oh, um-I was going to ask Shen if they needed anyone-.”

“No, no, no. They’re fine. Everyone showed.” Dana waved her hand in the direction of the lockers. “Seriously. Go get your stuff. You’re making me depressed just looking at you. You need to get home and sit with a book or something.”

Mel was going to argue that sitting in her too quiet apartment was the absolute last thing she wanted to do at that moment, but Dana was faster.

“Don’t sass me. Go. I don’t want to hear in the morning you were here moping around until midnight.”

Feeling lightly like a scolded child, Mel headed in the direction of the lockers. The shallow feeling in her chest throbbed and she struggled to fabricate another reason to avoid going home. Maybe she could feign an injury? That would kill a few hours as she got checked out, but she doubted she could actually go through with it. Wasting hospital resources and her colleagues’ time didn’t seem worth it.

Maybe she could throw herself down the stairs. Maybe she’d get lucky and break her arm or something. That would be a half-way decent distraction.

Anything to avoid dwelling on the fact she would forever be alone.

Forever be unwanted.

Forever be unneeded.

Maybe therapy would be a good option too.

She collected her things and as she shoved through the door leading out to chairs, she scrolled through her phone. No new texts. No calls. Becca was occupied with Adam and the only other person who used to text her frequently-well, he hadn’t reached out to her for a while. Mel used to be able to glance at her phone anytime of day and have a number of things from him; inside jokes from their shift, a picture of his kids acting like complete gremlins, questions about her day.

Her phone had been silent for a couple weeks now.

“Hey!Are you a doctor?”

Heavy fingers latched around her bicep. Her phone clattered to the floor of the waiting room. A man, in his mid forties and balding, rose from his seat and practically dragged her to face him. The first few buttons of his dress shirt were undone, and he had a suit jacket hung over an arm. A child, no older than eleven or twelve, was beside his empty chair and watched the interaction with panicked eyes.

Mel winced and tried to yank her arm out of his grasp.

“Sir-.”

“My kid has been waiting all day to be seen!” Red splotches were appearing on his cheeks. “What kind of hospital is this? Do you get more funding the more dead bodies pile up in your waiting room?”

Mel set her jaw. The shallow hole in her chest morphing into something hot. “Sir, patients are seen by the severity-.”

“We’ve been here for seven god damn hours!” Spit flew from his mouth. The people sitting around them didn’t move, only stared as wide eyed as his child. The ones who weren’t staring were avoiding looking their direction at all. Mel wondered if they agreed with him. “Seven! Hours! As soon as we get out of here, I’m going to sue you and this entire fucking-.”

“It’s gonna be pretty hard to sue her when you’re sitting in prison.”

Her stomach dropped. The voice that appeared behind her was the same one that used to trail behind her in patient rooms. It was the one that would whisper jokes in her ear during morning rounds and call her name in heated urgency when help was needed in trauma. It was the voice that had called her at one in the morning when his wife took the kids to her parents’ house and he found himself wanting nothing but a bottle of pills. It was the voice she sought out late at night when the deaths at work became too real and followed her home and Becca was gone.

It was the voice that had been ignoring her for nearly two weeks.

Dr. Langdon appeared over her shoulder. He looked like he was on his way out too, with his bag slung casually over his back and grasping on old sweatshirt tightly. His eyes, which were a startling shade of blue, weren’t on her though. They were fixed on the man in front of her with a calculated calmness Mel had never seen on him before.

“Because in case you weren’t aware,” he continued, his voice stiff. “Assaulting a hospital resident is punishable by up to ten years in federal prison and a five thousand dollar fine. So, how about you let go of her, before you and I end up as cell mates.”

The fingers on her bicep loosened and Mel ripped her arm out of his grasp. A warm, familiar hand appeared low on her stomach. Heat flickered somewhere low in her gut, mixing with the flames in her chest as Dr. Langdon moved her backwards, until he was able to take a step between her and the stranger.

“Great choice. Now, pick up her phone and set a good example for the kid and apologize.”

The man stammered something under his breath as he bent to retrieve her phone. It must have been an apology, because Dr. Langdon didn’t protest further. Mel peered around his bicep and hesitantly took the phone that was presented to her. She didn’t say thank you.

“Listen-I’m just worried about my kid-he doesn’t feel well-.”

“Junior here is up next. Take a seat and I suggest you think about what ten years in prison is worth to you before you get called back. Have a nice night. Dr. King, after you.”

The hand found its way back to her, this time finding it way to her hip and moving her to walk in front of him as they exited the busy room. Mel could feel the dozens of eyes on them, but nothing was more noticeable than the burn where his fingers had pressed into her skin.

Burning. That was an accurate way to describe how she was feeling. The anger and overwhelming feeling of helplessness in her chest was festering into something hot and ugly and mixing with a warmth low in her stomach that she didn’t understand…burning.

Mel felt like she was burning.

She didn’t say a word as they left the hospital. She tried to move quickly and leave him behind, but the stoplight turned green and the crosswalk flashed red. Feeling more irritation blossom inside her, she slammed her hand on the button.

“Are you okay?”

There was his voice again. Above her shoulder like always. Mel didn’t want to answer him. She was fine. Of course, she was fine, but she didn’t want him to know that. He had ignored her. He didn’t need her anymore. And he felt like he could start up a conversation with her? Absolutely not. The burning inside of her grew.

The light changed. Mel stalked across the crosswalk, but not before hearing him let out a long sigh behind her. “Mel, wait up. Seriously, are you okay? If you wanted to press charges-.”

“If I wanted to press charges I would go to anyone else in the emergency department for help.” The words came out fast. They changed in pitch when her throat grew tight and she prayed that he wouldn’t notice. “Not you.”

She hurried up the concrete steps of the parking garage. His footsteps remained behind her. Mel ground her teeth.

“Okay, that’s fair.” His voice was slightly breathless as he jogged up the steps behind her. They rounded the corner, appearing amongst a long row of vehicles. They were the only ones on that level. Both their steps echoed in the silence. “I just want to make sure you’re not hurt-.”

“Stop. You don’t get to do that.” She whirled on the spot. He froze, a couple cars behind her, watching her carefully. She didn’t like the way he was looking her. His brow furrowed. His mouth in a hard line. Like he was bothered by what she was saying. More heat flashed through her body.

The absolute nerve of him to act like he cared about her; acting like he cared, when he made it abundantly clear he didn’t want anything to do with her.

That morning, two weeks before, kept her up at night. She’d been so excited to see him that morning, as always. He always arrived a few minutes later than she did, his mouth melting into a soft, half-smile when his eyes would land on her.

Mel loved that look.

Mel looked forward to it every morning.

But, that morning, when she turned to greet him, two cups of coffee in her hands and her face beaming as she jumped into a description of the documentary she’d watched the night before, he stalked right past her.

No smile.

No warm greeting.

No brush of his fingers on her as he accepted the coffee.

Nothing.

Mel stood there in shocked silence, the words frozen in her throat as she watched his retreating back. She stared as she shoved his items in his locker, slammed the door shut, and walked away. She convinced herself it wasn’t her. After all, the divorce was fresh and maybe he and Abby had gotten into another custody argument, but the behavior continued.

He stood as far away as possible from her during rounds.

He no longer appeared in her patients’ rooms, offering advice and help.

He longer called out her name when rushed into trauma.

He ignored her texts and dint pick up the phone that evening.

And it wasn’t just a bad day. The next day was the same. And the day after that. And the day after that.

And like a snuffed out candle, the light inside of her went out.

But, he was looking at her like he cared and the hot, angry hurt inside of her hated it.

“You don’t get to ask if I’m okay.”

“I was worried about you.”

‘Well, I don’t need you to be worried about me,” she spat out. “Maybe, if we were friends, like I thought we were I would need you. But we aren’t friends. I don’t need you. So, turn around and quit following me.”

A moment of silence passed between them, before he responded to her in a quiet voice. “My car is parked next to yours.”

Mel felt like a dam burst inside her. Every spark of hurt and anger that had built up over the last two weeks came flooding to the surface. Her bag fell from her shoulder. Its contents spilled to the ground and she staled across the cement and planted herself in front of him.

“You haven’t talked to me in two weeks.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know. I can-.”

“You ignored me and you made me feel stupid.” Her throat hurt. A stinging sensation appeared behind her eyes. Her hands shook and she balled them into fists at her side. “You were my friend. You were my best friend. Do you know how many of those I’ve had?”

He didn’t answer. The muscles in his neck were taut as he swallowed thickly.

“Just my sister, in case you were curious. People don’t like me. I don’t-I don’t always understand things right away and they think I’m weird.” A traitorous tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it away furiously. “But you were nice to me. You were one of the nicest people I’ve ever met and I thought you liked being around me. I thought I finally had a real friend.”

He swallowed again.

“Mel-.”

Something was broken in his voice. For whatever reason, it angered her more. Letting out a frustrated growl, she raised her palms and shoved his chest. Hard. He didn’t really move, but she didn’t care because it made her feel better. She hated the way he was looking at her, like he had the nerve to be hurt by her words. She hated how blue his eyes were.

She shoved him again and this time, he had the decency to at least take a step back. Mel hoped he could see the hatred on her face as she glared at him.

“So, tell me,” she demanded. “What did I do wrong?

“Mel-.”

“I want to know.” Her lip quivered. “What was so bad between us that you just stopped all of it without saying a word? Or was it all just game? Was it funny to make the weird girl feel like she had a friend? Was it all just a joke?”

The lines in his mouth had gone rigid and Mel though she could see the vein in hand as his grip tightened on the strap of his bag. “Of course not-.”

“God and the nerve of you to think you had any right to try and be the hero after the way you’ve treated me,” she interrupted. “You know what I think you are? I think you’re a narcissistic asshole who doesn’t think about anyone else but himself!”

“I don’t think you’re using that word correctly.”

“I don’t care! I’ll use whatever words I want to describe you!” She rose on her toes to shout the words at him, before turning on the spot and stomping to retrieve her fallen bag. Another tear had fallen and she swiped at it as she squatted down.

A few seconds of silence passed. Then, slow footsteps approached and he was squatting next to her. He grabbed her loose chapstick and a couple of quarters and shoved them in her bag. “You were my best friend too, Mel.”

The tone of his voice ripped at her chest. It made her think of their midnight phonecalls, when he was missing his kids. Another tear, then two, fell. Mel ripped her bag from the ground and stood up fully. Langdon followed her.

“I swear you were my best friend too,” he repeated. “I just needed to step away and try to clear my head of some things. I have royally fucked up so many things in my life this last year and I was trying so hard not to do it again.”

“Well, I hoped that worked out for you,” she replied icily, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. The anger was slowly webbing away with each stray tear. The fire flickered out. She felt embarrassed. Hollow. The hole in her chest grew and morphed and she just felt…defeated.

She went to walk around him. “Just leave me alone-.”

His arm snatched around her waist. Her bag fell again, then his, and her hands grabbed on the front of his scrubs to steady herself as her chest collided into his.  A surprised, strangled gasp had just escaped her lips when his mouth crashed into hers and her entire mind went blank.

The air stilled. The deep, unsettling hole in her chest exploded into something light and warm and foreign.

A familiar hand cupped the back of her neck, angling her head upwards as the lips disappeared from her own just as quickly as they had appeared. There was only a breath of air between them when Langdon spoke. “You were my best friend and I was going to fuck it up, because I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Mel blinked. She couldn’t say anything. Words wouldn’t come to her mouth. The hand on her neck wove into the base of her braid and Mel closed her eyes at the contact. His forehead pressed to her and his next words hissed with so much pain, that Mel felt her throat burn again.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. Those smiles you used to give me when I would get to work? They would knock the breath out of me. You always looked so beautiful. I looked forward to them every morning. No one has ever been so happy to see me before.”

Mel could barely breathe. His thumb pressed into her jaw and his mouth ghosted over hers as he continued.

“At home, I would count down the hours until I got to see you again. I had to hold myself back from texting you too much. I’d be sitting there, trying to braid Penny’s hair and imagine you doing it instead and how fucking good to my kids you would be.”

Mel wasn’t sure she was even breathing. Their lips brushed again, but just barely.

“I would lay in bed next to my wife who hated my guts and think about how badly I wanted it to be you instead. The things I would do to you and how I would let you do anything to me. I used to imagine us just talking. I used to think about what a fucking luxury it would be just have you laying beside me while you told me about your day. I would wake up and you would just be there. Next to me. Right where you belonged. I wanted you to be there so badly.”

Another tear fell.

“So, please don’t cry,” he continued, in a desperate voice. “I fucked up. I know I did and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I tried to stay away because I couldn’t trust myself around you. I was so scared I was going to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and scare you off. Please don’t think you’re not needed or unwanted, because Mel-sweetheart-I need you so badly.”

Mel blinked once. Then twice, before yanking on his scrubs to press his mouth back into hers.

His response was immediate. His hand knotted in her hair. The taste of mint filled her mouth as his tongue swept past her lips. Her back bowed and the arm around her middle tightened, caging her in. Everything was warm and light and Mel felt like a brick had been removed from her chest. She breathed in his air, pressing herself as tight as their bodies would allow to feel every inch of his skin. There was no space between them.

There was nothing but them.

After what could have been seconds or hours, Mel had no idea, she pulled away. His forehead pressed back into hers, his breath fanning her face.  

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” her words were a whisper. “I haven’t had anyone these past two weeks. Becca is gone all the time and you…why was making me feel that way better than telling me?”

“I didn’t know it was messing with you so badly. I was a coward and selfish and an asshole just like you said. I’m going to spend the rest of my life wishing I had just told you. I’m so sorry, Mel. I knew how badly I needed you, I just didn’t know-.”

“That I needed you just as badly?”

Every muscle in his face went slack and, in a moment of bravery, Mel rose on her toes and placed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

The amount of touching between them was slightly unnerving, as she didn’t really like physical contact, but with him it was different. She liked it. She just didn’t know how to do it without seeming like an idiot. Carefully sliding her hands up his chest, she moved them to his neck to where loose strands of hair were plastered to his skin. She gently ran her fingers through them.

She thought she might have seen him fight against rolling his eyes back.

“I want to forgive you, but you really hurt me.”

“I know. I will do whatever you want. I can give you space. If you want me to go right now and leave you alone I will. If you want to go somewhere and talk, we can. If you’d rather talk on the phone-.”

“I want you to keep kissing me.”

She felt his hand flex against her. The panicked expression in his eyes softened as he breathed a short laugh. The relief that washed over his features was immeasurable. His mouth quirked into a smirk and suddenly, he was the Dr. Langdon she’d been introduced to a year ago.

“Yeah?”

Mel nodded, feeling her face warm. His smirk grew as did the twisting low in her stomach. She resisted squirming against him.

“Any place in particular?”

She blinked a couple times. “Do you mean geographically or physically on my body?”

He muttered “God, you’re amazing,” through a smile, then he was pulling her in for another, heated kiss. It was short, only lasting a few seconds but long enough for Mel to feel like the wind was knocked out of her. Again.

“Because if you meant geographically, I would really prefer to leave this parking garage,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Like right now.”

“Your place or mine?”

[auddy-95]

a little excerpt from chapter 7 of Adrian Chase/OC fic

She pressed a rag, doused in antiseptic, to the first gash. Adrian hissed and his hands grabbed the exam table, his knuckles white.

“Fuck.” The word came out low and ground out through clenched teeth. Cass glanced at his face, not used to hearing that tone from him. “I don’t think they’d want us using their stuff.”

“They can bill me.” She pulled the rag back. It was covered in red and brown. She doused it again. I’ve accepted I won’t lose you to blood loss, so now it’s time to rule out infection.”

Adrian laughed, but it was cut short when she pressed the rag against the open flesh. The muscles in his jaw jumped. “I think you’re enjoying this.”

“I think I would be going a lot slower if I did.”

Cass pressed the rag for a final time, carefully wiping the edges of the torn flesh. The veins in Adrian’s hands pressed against his flesh and Cass tried not to stare at them.

“You’re covered in blood too, you know.”

She blinked up at him and he motioned to her face.

“Oh. Yeah. One of those creeps shoved me. I hit my face on the ground. My nose bled some.”

Adrian frowned. “Broken?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Just sore.”

There was another beat of silence then, “Did I already kill him?”

“Yes.” Cass started to unwind the gauze. “I think you stabbed him in the neck, if I’m recalling correctly but I nearly lost you to blood loss immediately after, so the details are a little fuzzy.”

“Good.”

With careful fingers, Cass began wrapping the gauze around his ribs, securing it over the worst of the wounds. The fresh bandages stood out starkly against bruised skin.

Up close, the damage looked even worse. Not just the new injuries, but the scars that littered his body as well.

Thin white lines crossed his stomach and sides. Others disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants or vanished around his back. Some looked old and faded. Others were thicker, more jagged. The kind left by knives or bullets or things Cass didn't particularly want to imagine.

How many times had he patched himself up and moved on?

Adrian sat unnaturally quiet while she worked, seemingly oblivious to where her attention had drifted. Cass swallowed and focused on securing the bandage. If they survived the next twenty-four hours, maybe then she would ask Adrian about his scars.

“You know,” Adrian said, suddenly. “You’re really good at this. I’ve never had someone patch me up before.”

Cass smiled as she placed another piece of medical tape. “Why haven’t you let anyone help you before?”

“I don’t know. Theres never really been anyone who offered.” He shrugged, nonchalantly. “Also, the idea of someone touching me like this sounds a literal nightmare. I can’t fucking stand it when people touch my skin.”

Cass paused. “What?”

“Yeah, the whole skin-on-skin thing?” His body shuddered. “Fucking disgusting.”

“Oh my God.” She immediately snatched her hands away from his side.

Adrian frowned. “What?”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

Memories flashed through her head. Falling asleep next to him on the couch. Leaning against his chest. Grabbing his arm when she was upset. The time she'd practically begged him to hold her after a nightmare.

Horror flooded her.

“Adrian, I am so sorry.”

He looked completely lost. “For what?”

“All the times I've-.” Cass made a vague gesture between them. “Touched you?”

Understanding finally dawned.

“Oh.” Adrian’s mouth quirked. “No, you don’t count. I like it when you touch me.”

full story

[auddy-95]

In The Silence With You Masterlist

Pairing: Adrian Chase/oc

Summary: A rewrite of season 1 and 2, with a new member of the team. Cass was assigned to Project Butterfly because she had a problem with following orders. With her personal life crumbling around her, she finds comfort in an unlikely team member. Vigilante

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Warnings: 18+, canon typical violence, dv mention (non-descriptive), eventual smut

Ao3 link

[auddy-95]

a healthy reblog because I did some re-writing of chapter one

[vigilantexreader]

like real people do

Adrian Chase x fem!Reader

synopsis: Adrian Chase feels a lot of feelings, and it’s all your fault. He manages to cope with it just fine (barely) until you get yourself hurt on a mission, and then he just can’t fucking take it anymore.

tags/warnings: lowkey autistic!Adrian, angst, he gets maddd, feelings x1000, mission injuries, hospitals, happy ending tho bc I would never do that to my boy

word count: 4k

Huge massive shoutout to @embeanwrites for the title suggestion and their help with this one bc OH BOY did I need it but I am so pleased with the end result and I hope you all enjoy <3

Masterlist

Adrian Chase does have emotions. People get confused, sometimes, when he tries to explain. He says he doesn’t have emotions like people do. Really, he just means that he experiences them a bit differently.

He does feel things, though. He feels joy when he kills someone, or when he blows shit up with Chris. He laughs as the adrenaline pumps through his system and there’s blood spraying and people shouting and guns going off. He feels annoyed when people make changes to a plan at the last minute, or Chris decides to spend time with Ads instead of him. He feels mad. He feels mad a lot, actually. Usually at his overbearing, boundary-obliterating mother.

But a lot of the time, his own emotions are just as hard for him to understand as other people’s. They’ve always been hard. It helps him compartmentalize, like he does with everything else in his life, from his hobbies to his habits to his relationships, to make it easier. Simpler.

When Adrian feels things, he feels them one at a time. It’s too complicated when he feels multiple feelings at once. He has to pick one and focus on it, because otherwise, he simply can’t process anything at all. He gets overwhelmed. He shuts down, his brain stops working.

Adrian hates it when his brain stops working. He hates having feelings, a lot of the time. They’re illogical and stupid. He watches his friends make dumb, emotional decisions all the time, and he constantly resolves that he will never be the type of person to react like that. He watches Chris cry over his piece-of-shit racist dad with confusion. He watches Adebayo struggle over her divorce with Keeya. He watches Economos cope with crippling anxiety. He watches Harcourt just being so fucking angry, all the time. 

And he just…doesn’t really get it. How their emotions drive their every decision. It’s never been like that for him. Logic first, feelings second.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

About a year ago, Adrian started to feel a new feeling. A funny, fuzzy feeling. Sometimes it sits in his chest, sometimes it flutters in his stomach. It makes him feel hot and fidgety. It only ever happens in the Checkmate office, he’s noticed. When he pays more attention, he realizes it only ever happens around you.

It’s a complicated feeling. He doesn’t like it. So he ignores it. He avoids you.

It’s hard to do when you get paired up with him on missions all the time. You do work well together, he can’t deny that. You’re good at your job, and you’re funny, and pretty, and you’re nicer to him than anyone else in the office.

Maybe you're a little reckless sometimes, but so is he. Still, it stresses him out—a lot—when he sees you pull a risky stunt in the field. But you’re capable, and he’s a feminist. So he grits his teeth and lets you do your thing, even if that means standing back and watching you throw yourself into the line of fire.

Then when you get back to the office, he goes to his desk, writes up his reports, and ignores you until his stomach stops hurting, and the urge to handcuff you to your desk (or somewhere else where you will be safe for the rest of eternity) goes away. And he starts to feel normal again.

Chris calls him out on it one day when they’re in the car on the way to the bar for Friday night drinks with the team. Adebayo’s driving, Adrian’s in the backseat. You come up in conversation, naturally, because you’re part of the team, and you’ll be there, at the bar.

Chris says, “Hey, how come you keep avoiding her? You guys are always killing it in the field together, and then you get back to the office and pretend she doesn’t exist.”

Adrian says, “She makes my stomach feel weird. And she stresses me out.”

The car falls silent. It’s an awkward silence, but Adrian doesn’t notice the awkwardness, because he never does.

“What do you mean?” Ads says after a moment.

“Whenever I’m around her, my stomach feels all fluttery. It’s uncomfortable. I don’t like feeling like that.”

“Oh my god,” Chris laughs. “That’s so fucking embarassing. You have a crush on her?”

“What?” Adrian says, taking immediate offense, because he would know if he had a crush on you. Wouldn’t he? “I do not!”

“It really sounds like you do,” Ads says. “I hate to break it to you, but…butterflies in your stomach is a classic symptom. Like, straight from the textbook.”

“Butterflies?” Adrian asks, alarmed, having flashbacks to the Coverdale Ranch. “Wait—textbook? Is there a textbook?” He really should read it. There was this book about emotions and forest animals that he read when he was a kid that really helped with the basics. Happy bear, sad owl, angry fox. Maybe he needs to do some research—

“Not that kind of butterfly,” Ads says. “I mean—god, you’ve really never heard that phrase before? Like, when you feel nervous, but kind of in a good way, around someone you like?”

“I guess that’s kind of what it’s like,” he says. He does know what it feels like to be nervous, and…yeah, you make him feel like that, too. Anxious. He’s never thought about that being a good thing. 

It doesn’t feel good. It feels terrible. All-consuming, distracting, overwhelming. His hands get sweaty, which is not comfortable inside the Vigilante suit, and his heart races a little which makes him feel ill, and then you become all he can think about, which is not great when he is supposed to be focused on shooting bad guys in the head, not how hot you look while you shoot bad guys in the head.

“You should make a move,” Chris says. “She likes you too, dude.”

“She does?” Adrian asks, and he starts to feel the terrible fluttery feeling. Fuck. You’re not even here, and he’s feeling it.

This needs to be dealt with. Before he has one of his too-many-feelings meltdowns.

When they get to the bar, you’re waiting at a table already. You beam and wave at them when they walk in the door, and Adrian has one of those moments from the books. Where the people go “Oh. Oh.”

He walks right over to the table.

“I saved you a seat,” you start to tell him, and his heart leaps in his throat, because just the sound of your voice is making the feeling worse. It’s so bad he’s trembling, just vibrating all over, and he needs it to stop. And you can fix it.

Adrian asks, bluntly, “Can I kiss you?”

You stare at him. You clearly weren’t expecting it. He waits for you to think about it.

“Yes,” you say.

Adrian grabs you by the face and presses his lips to yours, hard. As first kisses go, it’s not a very good one. But when your hands drift up his chest, and your mouth opens under his, it makes the butterflies go away.

Adrian hears Chris whistling, and Adebayo telling him to shut the fuck up, and a sense of relief washes over him, and he thinks, I get it now.

Adrian thinks, after he’s got that all sorted, that things will be easier. That his body will stop doing funky emotional things and let him think logically again.

He is wrong. It was better for maybe a week. And then it gets so much worse.

It is better, still, in so many ways. He wouldn’t change a minute of it. Almost every moment he spends with you, he feels like a cat napping in the sunlight, bathing in warmth. Sometimes literally. The early mornings when he wakes up curled around you, the sun shining through your curtains, while you pet your fingers through his hair, they make him calm, more relaxed than he has ever been. He has always had a racing mind, a mouth that never stops talking, and your touch makes him happy. And that’s the best feeling to feel, isn’t it?

At work, though—he is more stressed than he ever has been. And it is fucking with him, big time.

Things are fine in the office. Better than ever, actually, because he can push himself in his rolling chair all the way over to your desk when he gets bored and chatter at you, and you will pause what you’re doing and interrupt him for kisses. He loves it when you do that.

He loves you, though he hasn’t told you that, yet. He thinks he does, at least. He’s never been in love before, so he’s not sure. He checked out a pile of books from the library, tried to do some research, but none of them really came close to describing the way it feels like he’s won the lottery every time you turn your head and smile at him.

Out in the field, though…Adrian is having a hard time. A really, really hard time. 

When you go out on missions, he needs to be Vigilante. He needs to act like Vigilante. It used to be easy. When he put the mask on, that was it. Transformation complete. And being Vigilante is one of the things that makes him feel joy.

With you standing there next to him, though, he has a much harder time leaving all of the messy Adrian Chase stuff behind.

It’s illogical, he knows it is. Nothing has changed about the work you’re doing, about your professional partnership as Checkmate employees. He needs to do his job. You need to do yours. And he refuses to be the clingy boyfriend that gets in the way of that.

But if he sees someone point a gun at you, if he watches you do something dangerous on a mission, he gets a little desperate. When he goes home with you that night, he’ll fuck you relentlessly into the mattress until you’re gasping for air, because that’s how you make him feel, every time you do something reckless. Like he can’t breathe. And he hates himself when he lays there afterwards with you, beneath the blankets, and wonders if the good feelings are worth the bad.

A lot of the time, when it comes to the bad feelings, Adrian just rolls with the punches, lets things wash over him. That’s what he’s been trying to do, at least. It’s easier, most of the time, if he doesn’t deal with it. Or maybe he’s just been telling himself that for so long that he’s started to really believe it.

But right now, Adrian is feeling a bad thing he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

Fear. 

The kind that sinks all the way into his bones, the kind he can’t shake off. No matter how much he wants to wish it away.

His ears are ringing in the aftermath of the explosion. There are other Checkmate team members rushing around, clearing out the building. There are several people shouting through his earpiece, but it sounds garbled, staticky, and none of it is important, anyway. Not more important than what’s happening right in front of him.

He looks at the blood as it starts to stain your clothes, too much, too fast. He watches your knees hit the ground, then your side, as you slump over and hit the floor, face screwed up in agony when you take in a wet, rattling, pained gasp.

The rest of the room fades away, and he scrambles across the floor toward you in a panic, through the growing, slippery pool of blood. It leeches into the seams of his suit, sticky and hot and uncomfortable. A sensory nightmare, but he doesn’t even care about that right now, barely notices it at all, because right now his whole focus is narrowed on you.

You’re barely conscious when he reaches you, your eyes fluttering.

“Look at me,” he says frantically. “Hey, hey, do not close your eyes right now, baby, I need you to stay awake, please—” His voice cracks on the last word.

“It hurts,” you whimper, eyes screwed shut, breath catching on a shaky inhale. Relief punches through him, because if you’re talking, you’re alive, and if you’re alive, he can fix you. He can fix you, he has to be able to fix you, there are no other acceptable options.

But he’s still terrified, because—you’ve never so readily admitted weakness like this. You’re one of the strongest, most fearless people he knows. He’s seen you get stabbed and walk it off. He’s seen you pop your own dislocated shoulder back into its socket. That you’re laying here on the floor, that you’re crying to him that it hurts, shakes him to his core.

His gloved hands, unsteady, reach for the hem of your shirt, peel it away from your skin, and you hiss, jerking away from his touch.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says frantically. “I’m so sorry baby, I need to see—”

And when he does, his heart drops to the floor, because there’s a jagged piece of shrapnel buried deep in your side, the wound gushing blood. There are gashes from other remnants of the explosive littering your skin.

He swallows.

“It’s okay,” he tells himself, tells you, trying to stay calm for your sake. “You’re fine, you’re going to be fine.”

But when he looks back up at your face, you’re out cold.

“No. No, no, no, no—” He keeps saying as he reaches up to pat you on the cheek, trying to wake you up. Like if he says it enough times, he can stop this with sheer willpower. 

If all he had to do was want, you’d be safe right now, at home in bed, legs tangled up with his while he played with your hair and you laid fast asleep against his chest.

“I need backup,” Adrian says into his earpiece, almost hysterical. “We’ve got an agent down, I need backup now—”

“Vig,” he hears, finally a clear voice crackling in his ear. Peacemaker. “You gotta get her out of there. The building’s on fire.”

Adrian looks up and sees the smoke drifting into the room. Fuck.

He gets one arm under your shoulders, another under your legs, picks you up, and starts moving. You jolt awake at the pain of being jostled. Relief floods through his system when he sees your eyes blink open, even as you groan at the pain.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, baby,” Adrian says, trying to sound soothing and keep the panic out of his voice. “We’re gonna get you out of here. We’re gonna get you all fixed up.”

“Adrian,” you mumble, and he knows you’re out of it, because you never call him by his name while you’re out in the field, only ever Vigilante. Adrian is for home, you tell him.

Your head tilts back, and you frown when you see the harsh V of his visor instead of the green of his eyes. One hand reaches for his mask, but you’re out of it, and your hand is slippery with blood, so all you manage to do is leave a streak of blood across the red field of Adrian’s vision.

Then you pass out again.

“She needs a hospital,” Adrian says, arms heavy with the weight of you, trying not to freak out about the blood, your blood, clouding his vision. “Chris, she needs a hospital—”

“Oh, god,” Harcourt says as he bursts out of the doors. She puts a finger to her ear, starts running alongside Adrian and shouting orders. “Get her in the van—Ads, we need a hospital stat!”

Chris throws open the back door of the van. Economos and Ads are in the front, and both of them look horrified when they see the state of you, which is not helping Adrian’s own panic.

Chris takes you from Adrian, gentle as he can, and lays you on the floor. He tears his mask off, kneels next to you. You're both wet, drenched in red. You’re not waking up.

And he is so, so afraid.

Adrian sits at your bedside for hours. He’s exhausted. There’s a twinge radiating up his jaw because he keeps grinding his teeth every time he looks up at you and you’re not looking back at him.

You’re stable, the doctor said. The surgery went well. You’ll need to rest. No field work for six months, at least. You won’t be happy about that.

Adrian looks back at the floor and starts counting the laminate tiles for the fortieth time, so he has something to focus on other than the sunken dark circles under your eyes, the tubes hooked up to your body, the tiny stitched up gashes on your arms and your face.

Emilia told him to go home six hours ago, but she backed off when he told her, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off, he was staying right here, thank you very much. She had looked at him with wide eyes, because he had never spoken to her like that before, in an outburst of anger. All things considered, Adrian is normally a pretty chill person. But he can't, won't, ever be chill about this. About you.

He felt a little bad about shouting. But there’s no fucking way he was leaving this hospital while you were still here. The thought of you waking up alone made him sick to his stomach. 

He would apologize later. But—he looks at you again, swallows past the lump in his throat, and loses his train of thought.

You’re looking at him. Your eyes are open, and you’re looking at him.

“Adrian?” you rasp, and he has one of those moments where he feels a gazillion emotions at one time and he thinks he might implode. All the air punches out of his lungs, his heart rate speeds up, his throat tightens. It’s panic, it’s relief, it’s guilt, it’s happiness, it’s—

He says your name, and he hates the way his voice is shaking. The way his hands are shaking. The way his entire body is shaking. He’s just shaking, with shock, with fear, with anger, and he can feel it. The shutdown. It’s coming on any minute. He has to pick one. He can’t do them all at once. He needs to pick one thing before he has a breakdown, and in that split second choice, he latches on to the first thing, the strongest feeling, the simplest one.

He is mad.

He chooses anger, because if he chose anything else, he would be a sobbing, useless mess, and he hates crying, because it makes his nose all stuffy and snotty, his face gets wet and salty, and it takes forever for it to stop once he gets started.

“Why the fuck would you do that,” Adrian says flatly. His voice trembles, throat tight with a different emotion that he does not want to deal with right now, so he refocuses on the anger, digs deep and lashes out, raising his voice and repeating the words like he might mean them more if he says them again. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Why the fuck did I push you out of the way of the bomb that was about to explode?” you ask, voice hoarse. “Because I didn’t want you to die, Adrian.”

“You almost died,” Adrian says. His hands shake as he speaks; he white-knuckles the arms of his chair to hide it. Tears prick at the back of his eyes, angry tears, because this wouldn’t be happening, you wouldn’t be lying there vulnerable and hurt in this hospital bed in front of him if you hadn’t put yourself in harm’s way to protect him. His heart palpitates, an irregular, anxious rhythm, and if he thinks for one more second about the way he held your limp body in his arms, he might actually have a heart attack.

It’s too much. He already feels so much, for you and around you and about you. You make him feel things that he thought he would never ever feel, and it makes every other emotion feel magnified by a thousand, and he’s so fucking angry he can’t take it. “You—you don’t get to—you can’t just step in front of me like—like what, my life matters more than yours? What the fuck were you doing?”

“I was doing my fucking job!”

“I would have been fine!” Adrian shouts, so furious his face is turning red. “That thing could have gone off in my face and I could have fucking slept it off and I would have been fine—”

“You’re not fucking invincible, Adrian!” you yell back, but the words catch in your dry throat, throwing you into a coughing fit. You haven’t had a drink in hours.

Adrian rushes to pick up his bottle of water, bringing it to your lips. “Hey, hey. Drink, nice and slow, baby,” he says, brushing a comforting hand through your hair. “Not too much. You’re okay.”

“You’re a fucking moron,” you continue, still pissed, pushing the water away when you’re done.

“I’m the moron?” Adrian cries. “You stepped in front of a fucking bomb. God, what the fuck were you thinking—”

“I was thinking that I love you,” you say softly, exhausted. Your head falls back against the pillow “And I didn’t want you to be hurt.”

It’s worse, that you’re speaking gently. He wishes you would keep yelling back at him. He wishes he could just scream until there were no more feelings left in his body to feel.

“I am hurt,” he chokes out. “I am hurt because I love you too and I am watching you be hurt and there’s nothing I can do to fix it—” A tear runs down his cheek, and he wipes it away furiously. “Fuck.”

He collapses into the chair at your bedside, head in his hands.

“I’m so fucking mad at you,” he says, but his whisper doesn’t match the bite of his words.

“I’m not sorry. I would do it again,” you say, your own eyes shining and wet. When he looks up at you, you hold out your hand out for his in a grabby motion, like a toddler that wants their favorite stuffed animal for comfort.

And he is so, so weak, because he is supposed to be mad, and he should walk away from you, but it’s like you’re magnetic, drawing him in, and he takes your hand and practically crushes it between both of his like you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I do,” you whisper. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, pressing his lips to your palm.

“Can I have a real kiss please?” you ask, and the corner of his mouth turns up. He stands over you and presses his lips against yours softer than he ever has before. 

Adrian is normally nothing if not eager, forceful with his love. He never wants you to doubt how he feels; he wants the world to know he’s yours. But he doesn’t want to hurt you, so he keeps his touch light, tender, brushing a thumb over your cheek and resting his forehead against yours.

“You make me feel too many things at once,” he says.

“I think that’s a good thing, Adrian. It’s like, healthy, to feel the whole spectrum of human emotion.”

“It is, but it’s so inconvenient. Absolutely terrible. And it’s all your fault.”

“All my fault?” you tease.

“Absolutely. 100%,” he says, fighting a smile. “I think I’m actually entitled to a class action lawsuit against you at this point.”

“That’s not what a class action lawsuit is, babe. Maybe, and I mean maybe, you could sue me for like, emotional damages.”

“I would win,” he says firmly. “I am so emotionally damaged right now.”

You laugh, then wince when the movement agitates your injuries, and Adrian frowns.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Stop laughing. Nothing is funny. You’re going to hurt yourself, again—”

“Don’t be such a drama queen.”

“Okay, now you’re trying to piss me off.”

[auddy-95]

I think this might be one of my most favorite things ever

[auddy-95]

In The Silence With You

Chapter 6

Pairing: Adrian Chase/female original character

Summary: A rewrite of season 1 and 2, with a new member of the team.

Cass was assigned to Project Butterfly because she had a problem with following orders. With her personal life crumbling around her, she finds comfort in an unlikely team member. Vigilante. 18+

Words: 4k

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5

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“You kept Goff!”

Cass flinched at the yelling, but she didn’t dare try to calm Murn down. Mostly because she felt Chris deserved to be berated a bit for keeping the damn thing, but also because she was a little preoccupied with trying to scrub the splatters of dried blood from the front of her shirt.

Adrian looked like he was about to say something, but Cass grabbed the front of his suit and yanked on it, forcing his attention back to her. She gave sharp shake of her head.

“Just let them yell at each other for a few minutes,” she said in a low voice. “It’s easier that way.”

Surprisingly, Adrain obeyed and turned his back on the shouting pair. Murn was currently going on about diary, but Cass really didn’t care. She was covered in blood. Again. Her entire body throbbed and ached. Again. Between the events of the night before and what just occurred, Cass didn’t think she’d ever sleep peacefully again.

“Give me that.” Adrian took the stained towel from her hand. “You got a big smear of smear of cop blood on your face.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

He scrubbed lightly on her forehead and temple. Murn and Peacemaker were still going at each other while the others pretended to be working at their desks, but Cass caught Harcourt eyeing her and Adrian carefully. Cass quickly looked away.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help in time.”

She blinked and grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements by the side of her face. “What are you talking about? You’ve saved my life more times than I can-.”

“I meant about the cop. The one with the butterfly crawling around in her face somewhere. If I had been faster, I might have been able to kill it before it got to her.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I had to stop you from knifing her like thirty seconds before that.” She let his wrist fall. “You don’t have to apologize for something you don’t really feel.”

Adrian’s mouth turned. “I never said I cared that she died. You didn’t want her to die. You screamed and you were upset and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to fix it.”

Cass felt that strange feeling of warmth again.

“You still don’t need to apologize, Adrian. There wasn’t anything we could have done.”

She almost reached out to hold him.

The impulse surprised her enough that she froze.

Across the room, John raised a timid hand. The shouting between Chris and Murn paused as all the eyes in the room fell on him.

“So, I think I might know where the amber fluid is coming from.”

***

Cass rubbed the heel of her palms into her eye sockets.

The glow from her monitor blurred into a painful smear of light. She hadn't slept properly in days and every time she closed her eyes she saw something different. Harry's blood on her apartment wall. The butterfly forcing its way into the police officer's mouth. The sheriff pulling the trigger.

Or Adrian standing in her living room with a mop.

Somehow that last one stuck with her the most.

 Murn had given them until dawn, then they were headed to Coverdale Ranch to kill whatever creature they had hidden underground that was producing their only food source. John had tracked the truck from the bottling plant all the way to the ranch and Murn was confident that was where they were keeping their food source.

Murn had called it a cow.

She didn’t ask why. It hadn’t seemed like new information to the others. Cass figured it had been some intel they were given that she hadn’t been privy too. It didn’t really bother her, but Chris was furious. He wanted answers and explanations, and it didn’t matter how many times she tried to explain it was normal for black ops.

He just snapped at her, like he did the others.

Cass glanced at the clock on the wall. There were about ten hours left until dawn. Adebayo, Murn, and Harcourt had left to go back to their motel rooms. Cass knew she probably should have done the same thing. Her body was screaming for rest, but it had only been the night before that she’d been greeted with that awful voice as she’d gone through her front door.

“Cassandra.”

Something turned in her stomach at the memory.

It might have been childish, but she couldn’t face her empty room. Not with the memory of Harry waiting for her or his blood splattered on her wall fresh in her mind. Not with the feel of the floor scraping under her fingernails as she tried to escape him, engrained so painfully in her head, it was bound to appear again as soon as she fell asleep.

That, paired with the image of the butterfly clawing its way through the police officer’s mouth, and Cass knew sleep wasn’t in her future.

“You look tired.”

She blinked against the heaviness in her eyelids and the glare from her computer screen. Adrian was looking down at her. He was still wearing his suit, despite it being covered in a mixture of dirt and blood.

“Thank you, Adrian,” she deadpanned. “That’s very kind of you.”

“The others left ages ago to get some rest. I thought you would have gone with them.”

“Chris and John didn’t leave.” From somewhere back in the building, the sound of a piano drifted up towards them. It had to be Chris. In all the time she’d worked with John, Cass was fairly confident he couldn’t play.

“I just figured you’d want some rest before tomorrow. Aren’t we taking out some monstrous, alien cow?”

“Apparently.”

“Okay, so then go back and get some rest because I really can’t have you stumbling around-.”

“I’m fine here,” she interrupted sharply, instantly hating the way it made Adrian’s face go slack. She swallowed painfully before continuing. “I don’t want to go back there, okay? I’ll try to catch a couple hours on the couch here or something but-but I just can’t walk through that front door right now.”

Adrian's face softened immediately.

"Oh."

Cass looked back at her computer screen. The cursor blinked uselessly in the middle of a screen she hadn't actually been reading for the last ten minutes. For once, Adrian didn't immediately fill the silence.

The piano continued somewhere deeper in the building. A slow, uncertain melody drifted through the office before stopping abruptly.

Chris. Probably making himself miserable.

Cass rubbed at her eyes again. “I know it’s stupid.”

Adrian frowned. It wasn’t his usual exaggerated one. A real one. Thoughtful. Like he was genuinely bothered by what she was telling him. Then he reached out a hand, promptly hitting the power button on her monitor. It flicked off and Cass narrowed her eyes,

"What are you doing?"

"Come on."

"Where?"

He grabbed her hand, yanking her to her feet as he grabbed her bag and stuffed her belongings into it. Cass watched him suspiciously.

“Where, Adrian?” she asked again, her voice a little firmer.

“Back to the motel.” He slung her bag over his shoulder and stuffed his glasses into the small compartment in his suit. As he yanked his mask over his head, he gave her a gentle shove towards the exit. “If you’re freaked out about walking through the front door, I’ll just do it with you.”

Cass didn’t say anything. She didn’t think she could with how tight her throat had become.

***

The drive to the motel was quiet. Not awkward. Not uncomfortable. Just silent. The kind of quiet that settled over people when they were too exhausted to pretend they weren't exhausted.

Cass sat in Adrian’s passenger seat, her forehead pressed lightly against the cool glass of the window. Her poor car was still abandoned in front of Chris’s trailer. Possibly even impounded by the police. She had no idea. She supposed in the midst of defeating an alien invasion, it didn’t really matter. Cass could worry about her car later.

Evergreen's streets were mostly empty at that hour. Storefronts were dark. Traffic lights blinked lazily over deserted intersections.

For once, Adrian wasn't talking.

The realization was strange enough that she eventually glanced over at him.

"You know," she said softly. "You're being suspiciously normal."

"What?"

"You haven't given me any interesting animal facts in at least twenty minutes. It’s a little strange."

Adrian still had his mask on but could almost hear the grin in his voice when he replied. “Oh my God, I’ve been trying to hold back because Peacemaker says there’s a right and wrong time to discuss the animal kingdom and its usually the latter and I kind of figured this might be a wrong time-.”

“Absolutely not.” Cass settled her forehead back on the cold window. “I’d love to hear what you’ve got.”

It was like opening the flood gates. A strange blanket of comfort settled over her as Adrian rambled on about something to do with swans and albatrosses. Cass wasn’t really sure, because the motel appeared around the next corner.

The knot in her stomach returned. Her room sat on the second floor. The curtains were drawn. The light was off. Nothing looked different. Nothing looked wrong, but that was exactly how it and looked the night before.

It was all too fresh.

Harry sitting in the dark. The screaming and bleeding. Harry blaming her for everything.

The car rolled to a stop and neither of them moved. After a moment, Adrian reached over and shut off the engine.

"You wanna know something?"

Had it been anyone else in that moment, Cass would have said no. “Yes.”

"When I was ten, I got trapped inside an industrial dryer."

Cass blinked and lifted her head from the window.

"Excuse me?”

"It was at a laundromat."

"Why were you inside an industrial dryer?"

“My brother and Peacemaker shoved me inside of one and locked it shut, but how I got there isn’t important. The point is that I was really scared. It took my mom almost an hour to find me.”

Cass folded her arms, annoyance at Chris filling her chest.

"I'm struggling to find the point in this story."

"The point is that after I got out, I wouldn't go near laundromats anymore." The red visor turned towards the motel. Moths fluttered in and out of the yellow lights illuminating the front. "Even though I knew there wasn't another dryer waiting to eat me."

Cass felt the corners of her mouth fall and there was tightness in her throat again. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse.

"Why?"

The mask tilted her direction. Cass could almost see herself in the red visor. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

When Adrian answered, it was the same tone he had used in her motel room after mopping her floors. When she demanded to know why he was there and why he had done what he did. The words were slow, like he was stating something painfully obvious and was confused by her questioning.

"You got me out of prison."

Cass snorted. "That can't be your entire reason. I did that on orders.”

"You bought me burgers."

"Adrian."

"You laughed at my jokes. You watched my animal documentary with me. You didn’t freak out when I showed up on your fire escape."

"These are terrible reasons." Cass smiled. “And I did kind of freak out.”

“Yeah, but only for a second.” He opened the driver-side door and climbed out. The cool night air swept into the car and underneath her blood-stained shirt, goosebumps appeared on her skin. She shivered once. "Come on."

Cass stared at him. She stared at the teal and black suit. At the mask that she saw almost as much as his face. She stared at the man who always carried at least seventeen weapons and had wanted to leave the corpse of her abusive ex in a ditch. The man who was weird and painfully strange, but who was capable of making her laugh and smile more than she had in months.

The man whose very presence made her feel such an overwhelmingly sense of comfort, that it was unnerving.

The man who somehow became the person she trusted most in a terrifyingly short amount of time.

Cass didn’t want to examine any of her feelings at that moment. Maybe after saving the world, she could think more about it. For the time being, she wasn’t going to question any of it.

Adrian jerked his chin towards the motel when he saw her hesitation.

"You know if anyone is in there, I’m just going to kill them."

Cass breathed a laugh, before getting out of the car. "That’s very comforting."

***

The television flashed with some action flick she didn’t recognize. Cass wasn’t really watching anyway. Her eyes were mostly shut, and she was only half-listening to what was happening on the screen. Despite running on less sleep than she was, Adrian appeared to be wide awake. He was sitting up fully on the couch next to her, a t-shirt and sweats in place of the Vigilante suit and his brown curls damp from her shower. He’d given up trying to make Cass more comfortable. Even though it made her feel a little bad, she’d shut down every offer he had.

No, she didn’t want to go to the bed while he stayed on the couch. No, she didn’t want the television turned off. No, she didn’t want the volume turned down.

No. She didn’t want him to leave.

Cass shifted, tightening the blanket around herself as she nuzzled her head in closer to his side. She didn’t have the same reservation she’d had the night before. She’d already been half asleep on the couch when Adrian appeared from her bathroom. He had insisted she shower before him and as soon as fell onto the far end of the couch, Cass had curled against him. She hadn’t even bothered to open her eyes all the way.

Adrian must not have minded though, because his arm raised instantly out of her way and settled along her back. The movement was so automatic that Cass wasn't even sure he'd consciously done it.

Neither of them acknowledged it.

The television continued to flash across the room, painting everything in shifting blues and oranges. Cass was hovering somewhere in between consciousness and sleep, when Adrian shifted slightly beneath her. She yawned.

“Thank you again,” she mumbled, her lips half-pressed against his rib cage. “For checking the motel room and not, you know, thinking I’m stupid.”

“No problem.” His voice vibrated in his chest, sounding low against her ear. “But the point of me checking under your bed was so that you would sleep in it. When was the last time you slept in an actual bed?”

“No idea,” she yawned again. Her eyes were still shut. “Sometime earlier in the week?

“That can’t be healthy.”

“If we don’t die tomorrow taking out an alien cow, we can focus more on my sleep habits.” And her unhealthy attachment to the wanted criminal she was currently half-laying on. God, her therapy bill was going to be so high once this was all over. “Until then, zip it.”

For several minutes, the only sound was the television. Cass toed the line of being awake and finally drifting off, when Adrian spoke again.

“You really think we might die tomorrow?” His tone wasn’t scared or nervous. It was factual. Maybe even a little surprised.

Cass shrugged under her blanket. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Adrian let out a deep groan and Cass thought she felt him lay his head on the back of the couch.

“That sucks. We never got around to lesson 1.5. You’re going to die tomorrow not knowing how to navigate a fire escape.”

Cass breathed a laugh into his shirt. The smell of her own body wash wafted off him, but so did the faintest hint of something else. Whatever it was, it made something low twist in her gut.

“Well, if we don’t die you can teach me all about fire escapes and knives and whatever else…” Her voice drifted off as she yawned again. “Whatever else you feel is necessary.”

The heaviness in her eyes grew too large to be ignored. Finally, Cass felt her mind start to haze over and with the feeling of Adrian’s fingers gently moving over the blanket tucked against her back, Cass drifted to sleep.

***

She knew it was a nightmare the moment it started.

That was the worst part. Cass knew none of it was real, but she couldn’t get herself to wake up. She couldn’t run as Harry’s bloodied face screamed over her. Her head refused to turn as he demanded to know why she was such a fucking screw up and a failure and even when the butterfly started to claw its way out of his mouth, spraying her with gore and blood and Cass’s mind was screaming at her to look away.

She couldn’t.

She could only watch the creature claw its way out. Harry’s body fell, but the tiny wings dripping with red fluttered their way over to her. The tiny legs poked at her lips and every breath in her lungs were desperate to scream but nothing would come out. Her arms wouldn’t move and her legs felt like they were made of stone.

She could only stand there, helpless, as the small butterfly covered in Harry’s blood started to force her mouth open.

“Cass! Cass!”

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. The butterfly vanished. The dark room with a flickering blue light enveloped her. Sweat clung to her body. There was heat everywhere and hands. Hands gripping the sides of her face as a panicked voice echoed somewhere in her ears.

Reality slammed back into her.

Cass’s torso shot upwards. There was no blood. No Harry. No butterfly. Just a flickering television in a black room and Adrian. Adrian, who had two callused hands on either side of her sweat covered face and watching her with a panicked expression.

The television flashed, illuminating the two of them. She was almost entirely laying on top of him, the blanket pooled around her middle where her legs had a death grip around his waist. It appeared he had been laying fully on the couch, but he’d followed her up in her panic, forcing their chests close together.

Green eyes behind crooked glasses watched her. The callused hands on her face fell away and their heat vanished with them.

“Hey. I think you were having a bad dream. You okay?”

No blood. No Harry. No butterfly.

Just green eyes and glasses and freckles.

Cass threw her arms around his neck. Disregarding the surprised oomph from deep in his chest, she buried her face tightly into his shoulder. There was no space now between them. Not with his legs stretched out underneath her and her own clamped firmly around his middle. There was nothing but warmth and safety and comfort and Cass threw every rational thought from her mind as she held him as tightly as possible.

His arms were still held out awkwardly beside him.

“Do I-?” There was an unfamiliar, nervous crack in his voice. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” she answered against his skin. “Hold me please.”

The arms snatched around her; more sure and solid they had been the night before when she cried against his armor. Without the suit, she could feel the lean muscles in his arms holding her to him. Cass shifted slightly and one of his legs folded underneath them.

“I really-like really need you to tell me what you’re thinking. I’m serious. My head works differently then everyone else’s and I know it does because I don’t always understand what’s going on and what I should do and I know I’m going to do something wrong here and upset you-.”

“Adrian.”

“Like touching. What are the rules with touching? You have no idea how much I fucking hate touching people, so I never bothered to learn the rules. You’re the only one that doesn’t make my skin crawl. Like you’re literally in my lap and it feels really fucking good but I don’t know any of the stupid rules that everyone else lives by-.”

“Adrian.”

“So, I need you to just tell me. Because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do and you said yesterday that I don’t have to do anything but that’s a lie because I’m doing something right now. Everyone is always doing something, so how am I supposed to do nothing? I’m holding you. That’s something. I took you to your motel and scoped it out for you and made sure there was no crazy, one-handed ex underneath your bed. That’s all something so what do you mean I’m not supposed to do anything. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Adrian!”

His mouth clamped shut. Cass unwound her arms from his neck, sliding them to either side of his face. As she fixed his glasses, she felt his hands drop to her waist. His thumbs pressed tightly against the band of her sleep shorts.

“You don’t have to think so hard about it.”

“No, I do. Cass, I’m telling you my brain doesn’t process stuff the same-.”

“What are you thinking right now?”

He blinked. “Right this second?”

She nodded, moving her thumbs gently on his face. “What do you feel?”

“Um-.” His eyes closed and she thought for a moment he was pressing his face further into her touch. The hands on her waist flexed and she felt his legs shift underneath her. “I’m upset because you woke up so scared. I just wanted to make you feel better and I don’t know how.”

“You did make me feel better,” she replied in a soft voice. “You were still here when I woke up. You held me. You didn’t do anything to upset me.”

“Okay.” He let out a heavy breath. The fingers on her waist kept repeatedly pressing into her, like he having trouble keeping his hands still. “Okay. Okay. I don’t-I really don’t want to mess up.”

Cass wasn’t sure what words were about to leave her mouth next. She wasn’t even positive she was going to say anything at all, but there was hardly any space between them and as she gently moved her thumb across his cheekbone, his eyes opened again and Adrian was looking at her like she'd handed him something fragile and he was terrified of breaking it.

The thought hit her so suddenly it almost hurt.

No one had ever looked at her like that before. Not Harry. Not her own mother.

Not anyone.

"Cass?"

She blinked. Right. He was waiting for an answer.

"I think you're doing fine."

He didn’t have a chance to answer. The television flashed again, the image changing from some decade-old movie to an emergency news broadcast. Both their heads whipped it’s direction. Cass’s hands dropped from Adrian’s face as the sheriff from earlier, the one Murn said was on their side, appeared on the screen.

The sounds of his gunshots echoed in her mind.

She felt Adrian’s hands flex again.

They watched in silence as he announced a diary was found in Christopher Smith’s trailer, linking him to the murder of Annie Sturphausen, Senator Goff and his family, and the “massacre” at the bottling company. Every police station had orders to find and stop him by any means necessary.

Next to his podium, stood the officer that Cass had watched a butterfly claw its way through. The last time Cass saw her, she’d been vomiting mouthfuls of blood.

The broadcast ended. Adrian and Cass looked back at each other, still silent, as the television flickered again.

taglist: @tez0

[auddy-95]

Do you ever do requests? I love the way you write Langdon and Mel together and just hoping for something short and sweet. Literally anything! No pressure if thats not your thing!!

No better time to start than the present :)

Pairing: Melissa *Mel* King/Frank Langdon

Summary: A year ago, Frank’s life had been crashing in around him. He’d been suffocating in a blanket of self-hatred and fear and had no reason to believe he’d ever break the surface.

Now, he has the three most important things in his life holding on tight to him and he realizes how much can change.

Post season 2 cavity-inducing sweet fluff

Frank had lost feeling in his left leg a while ago. His right arm had been next. His other one, which was stretched uncomfortably behind his head, was starting to prickle, but he didn’t dare move. His and Mel’s work backpacks were mashed into a pile behind his head, propping himself up enough that he could see the colored glow from the fireworks in the distance.

Several other hospital personnel had the same idea to gather on the roof. There were many people he didn’t recognize, but far off by the railing Javadi, Santos, and Whitaker stood in a huddled group, beers clutched in their hands. It’d taken several months, but the sight of Santos no longer gave him an overwhelming rush of self-hatred. They weren’t best buddies by any means, but he was happy to see her smirking at something Whitaker said as their faces flashed with colors. Frank was thankful he hadn’t screwed up her career on the day his life came crashing down. When the smoke cleared, he would have never forgiven himself.

On his other side, McKay and her son were in matching, worn lawn chairs. She looked as exhausted as felt, but her son was watching the fireworks with such a bright look in his eye, that he knew she didn’t care.

Frank hadn’t seen the kid arrive, but he assumed her parents must have dropped him off at the end of her shift, much like Abby had done. He wondered vaguely if it was Harrison’s choice to spend the holiday with his mom, or if the holiday arrangements were court ordered. A couple of years ago, the question wouldn’t even have occurred to him. But after months of lawyers, courtrooms, and paperwork, it was hard not to think about. He supposed it wasn’t really any of his business.

McKay must have felt him staring, because she glanced his way and raised a brow when she caught his eye. Shifting the can of diet-coke in her hand, she turned his direction. Half her face illuminated in a flash of purple sparks. “Something on your mind?”

“Nah.” He spoke a little too loud. The hand curled into the front of his scrubs tightened. He lowered his voice slightly and jerked his chin towards her son. “You guys usually spend the fourth together?”

McKay shrugged. “It depends. We let Harrison decide where to go each year. It’s just easier, letting him have control over it.”

Frank nodded in understanding. Towards the end, he and Abby may have been at each other’s throats, but it was never over the kids. He was the asshole, drug-addict husband who lost his wife’s trust and she was the backstabbing, lying wife who climbed into their neighbor’s bed for comfort the first chance she got.

Yeah, the end had been bad. Real bad.

But Abby was a killer mom and she knew Frank loved Penny and Tanner more than anything, so the fighting was never over the kids. It hadn’t stopped him from worrying though. When the divorce became imminent, his biggest fear had been losing them. Frank had never said it to her, but he’d been scared to death she’d use his addiction to take them. He used to lay awake at night wondering if he’d have to go weeks, or even months, without seeing their little grins and hearing their bright laughs. The thought used to kill him inside. It made him think about a bottle of pills.

“By the way, I kept forgetting to tell you,” McKay continued, her mouth quirking into a pleasant smile. “Happy anniversary. One year, right?”

He nodded subtlety, hoping the movement wouldn’t disturb the head tucked into his chest. “Yeah. A year today.”

“Man, time really flew by. I’m really glad you came back to us though.” She settled back into her chair as the sky flashed pink and blue.  She raised the diet-coke to her lips, slightly shaking her head. “It’s crazy how much happens in a year.”

Frank wondered if she was speaking about him directly. It had been exactly a year since he had walked through the doors of the emergency department for the first time since attending rehab. A year since he wore his wedding ring just to keep the questions about his failed marriage at bay. A year since he almost killed several patients because of his self-doubt. A year since night-terrors about losing his kids kept him up at night.

A year since Mel turned to see him after a ten-month absence, her face beaming with a wide, toothy smile.

A year since Mel was the only one to believe in him.

A year since he stood with Mel in the ambulance bay, gazing at the fireworks.

It was funny in a way. So much had changed the last year, but the last detail hadn’t. He and Mel were still watching the fireworks together.

Well, sort of.

Mel was fast asleep. She was tucked into his left side, one of her hands twisting into the front of his scrubs while her cheek pressed into his chest. Half of her body was laid on the cement roof of the hospital, while the other had fastened itself around his leg. He felt a little bad that she’d fallen asleep, but despite insisting that she wanted to stay up for the fireworks, she’d work a double and the twenty-four hours of work had caught up to her.

Her glasses were lopsided on her face. He would have plucked them off her, but he was scared to move too much and wake the ticking time bomb with a red, white, and blue dress and ribbons in her hair.

Penny was curled in the gap between his legs. Her outfit was stained with what appeared to be ketchup and mustard and her sticky hands smelled overly sweet, like melted popsicles. When he pulled her from the car seat in the back of Abby’s car just an hour ago, he’d asked why she looked a picnic table threw up on her. Abby glared at him, stating she’d let the kids have enough sugar at the barbeque they’d attended to keep them up all night. That had wiped the smile off his face and she blew him a kiss as she rolled up the window.

Mel had laughed at that.

Abby must have gotten the sugar dosage to turn their kids into feral monsters wrong though, because Penny had been the first to fall asleep. Her auburn hair, which was strikingly similar to her mother’s, was falling out of her pigtails that rose and fell with each deep breath from her chest. Frank wondered if she’d transition into her own bed alright that night or if she’d spend it wedged in between him and Mel, her foot kicking him in the ribs most of the night. Likely the latter.

Tanner had fallen asleep last. He was six now and determined to be a big kid. He’d teased Penny, when she curled into her dad’s lap and yawned and even thought it was funny when Mel’s eyes had fluttered shut. He’d looked at Frank with a wide smile. There was a gap in his front teeth, and his mouth was stained blue from some dye-filled drink he’d spent the day sipping on, but he had the look of a little boy who was having the time of his life.

It didn’t take long though, for his day of running around someone backyard and shooting off fireworks had caught up to him. Opposite Mel, he took a similar position and rested his head against his dad. His dark hair, which was a mirror image of Frank’s, stuck to his scrubs with sweat but he didn’t care as she watched his son’s emerald eyes flutter close.

A year ago, Frank’s life had been crashing in around him. He’d been suffocating in a blanket of self-hatred and fear and had no reason to believe he’d ever break the surface.

Now, he was laying on an old blanket from the back of his car on the roof of the hospital. He had the world’s most beautiful blonde holding onto the front of his scrubs like her life depended on it and later, after a tired drive home, she’d be climbing into his bed. His daughter, who was a spit-fire just like her mother in the absolute best way, was tucked into his lap like it was the safest place in the world and his son, who was so eerily similar to himself that it almost scared him, curled into his side.

Therapy must have made him a simp, because Frank felt an odd lump in his throat as he glanced at the three figures clinging to him.

“Yeah,” he agreed to McKay. His voice cracked. “A lot sure does happen in a year.”

[auddy-95]

Same anon as the other day. Do you have any langdon/mel fics you recommend? Or any other blogs to follow?

The first fic that comes to mind is a one shot called collide on ao3! It’s so cute and I think I’ve reread it a dozen times. As far as blogs, I don’t really follow any Langdon/Mel specific ones. I really should change that though.

[auddy-95]

I just have to say the two langdon/mel fics you wrote were amazing!! I honestly loved both of them so much. And they were just so natural and so sweet. I was grinning like an idiot the entire time!! I hope you write more for them. Please, please

Thank you so much! That is so kind of you to say 🥹 I do hope to write some more but we’ll just have to see when inspiration hits!

[auddy-95]

Your Face. My face- Kingdon One Shot

Pairing: Melissa *Mel* King/Frank Langdon

Summary:

Mel doesn't like that other women notice how good looking Dr. Langdon's face is. In fact, it bothers her so much, she decides to tell him just what she thinks of him.

And what exactly she'd like to do to his face.

Warnings: 18+, smut, language

Read below or on ao3

Mel stared at the lava lamp clasped in her hands. The day shift had started almost twelve hours ago and it had been a busy one. She’d dealt with everything from an overreactive case of the flu to a severed hand in a construction accident and everything that fell in between. It had been long and grueling, but the worst part was she only halfway through. The night shift had been dealing with staffing issues, so the day shift was taking turns helping out. It was Mel’s turn to spend 24 hours in the Pitt.

So, in a rare moment of relative quietness, Mel had tucked herself away in one of the empty desks and immediately opened her favorite app. If her night was half as chaotic as her day had been, she had a feeling she’d be gazing at her lava lamp a lot.

“Oh. My. God. If I see him run his hand through his hair one more time I swear I’m going to die. Like actually, literally die right here.”

Mel didn’t have to peer around the divider to know who was talking. The girls in central fifteen had been there for a few hours. There were four of them in total; one patient who overdid pregaming for girl’s night and her friends, who had the sense to call 911 when she’d hit her head when falling off a curb. Mel liked them. They might have been a little loud and dressed for a night club, not a hospital, but they were all laughter and kindness and the kind of friends Mel wished she had when she was younger.

Mel never had many friends.

“Forget about his hair! Did you even pay attention to his hands? Ugh! I just want them all over me.”

There were squeals of hushed agreement. Mel swiped her lava lamp away and glanced over her shoulder. Just as she expected, Dr. Langdon was on the other side of the hub. He was talking to Dr. Ellis about something, likely a patient he was handing off as he would be leaving shortly, but Mel felt something odd twist in her chest.

The girls were right. He did have nice hair. Even Becca had said so and Mel’s sister was so unapologetically honest that you knew it had to be true, but Mel had never considered his hands before. She’d seen them almost every day for months. Just that day, she watched them cut through a chest and pick up the fragments of someone’s skull off a gurney. They had held that old woman’s hand when she realized her husband wasn’t going to wake up. They’d shoved a cup of coffee into Mel’s grasp and tied her gown around her neck when she rushed too fast into trauma one. They’d grabbed her elbow and moved her out of the way of a wheelchair and lightly tugged on her braid when she fell into too long of a silence.

Mel saw Langdon’s hands all the time. She never really looked at them though.

She didn’t like that those girls did.

“No no no. You’re both wrong. It’s the jaw that’s really doing it for me. I mean seriously-can you imagine sitting on a face like that-.

“-with his hands just grabbing at your hips-.”

“-and you can run your fingers through that hair-.”

More squeals. More whispers. Mel felt the unfamiliar twist in her chest again. Why did she care that they liked his jaw? They were just stating the obvious. It was nice. She liked the way it looked when he gave her half-a grin from across the room and she could always tell when a patient was annoying him by the way muscles in it would flex.

His jaw, hair, and hands were nice. They were all nice. In fact, now that she was thinking about it, Mel thought every part of him was nice. His face. His eyes. The way the muscles in his arms moved when he crossed them and the way he towered over her when he took his usual spot of standing directly behind her during huddles.

Just at that moment, Dr. Langdon and Dr. Ellis walked out of view. The girls on the other side of the divider whined, before retreating into their friend’s room. Mel flipped her lava lamp back on, but she couldn’t focus on it. Despite liking the girls perfectly fine up until a few minutes ago, Mel was relieved. She didn’t want them thinking about him like that, because if they were thinking it, then maybe someone else out in the world was too, and if they had said something to him, maybe he would like it, and if he liked it then that mean they would be the ones being grabbed by his hands and getting to feel his hair while his jaw moved underneath-.

Mel flushed. She couldn’t have thoughts like that. They were friends. Good friends. They had been ever since his return several months ago. He helped her cope when Becca decided to spend more time at the center with her boyfriend and less time with Mel and she did the same to him when the ring permanently disappeared from his finger. She’d hidden in the staircase a few weeks ago after losing a three-year-old and he’d found her, silently holding her until the tears dried out and when he confessed to her about what had really happened with the drugs-that they were stolen from the hospital-Mel hadn’t condemned him. She intertwined their fingers and held his hand tightly.

A hand she had never thought about looking at until that moment.

“Okay, I left you a diet coke in the fridge. I plastered it in sticky notes with your name on it. If anyone steals it, let me know and I’ll fight them as soon as I’m back in the morning.”

Mel’s heart nearly hammered out of her chest. Langdon slid into the chair beside her, rolling until it rested on her opposite side. He had that half-grin tilted her way and long strands of his black hair were falling onto his forehead.

“I’m sure that won’t necessary.” He splayed his hands on his thighs while she spoke. A quick glance at them-at the veins and the length of his fingers-and an image of them digging into her skin flashed in her mind. Mel’s face warmed. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Is there anything else you need from before I go?”

Mel considered telling him the odd thoughts running through her mind. She wanted to tell him what the girls said and explain how weird it made her feel, but there was small twinge of worry holding her back.

What if he laughed at her? He’d never done such a thing before. Mel had been able to confess anything and everything to him for the last few months and there was no reason to believe he would change, but still…she didn’t think she’d ever survive him teasing her about such a topic.

Her other small worry was slightly more concerning. What if she told him about what the girls said and he liked it? What of he went over to talk to them? He was freshly divorced after all and a man. The girls were incredibly attractive and outgoing-everything Mel was not. If she couldn’t survive him teasing her about this, she definitely wouldn’t survive him sauntering over to that room and indulging those girls in exactly what they wanted.

The idea made that odd twisting feeling appear in Mel’s chest again.

She didn’t want him to want those girls.

Mel didn’t say any of that though. She smiled and told him she would be fine and that she’d see him in the morning. When he rose to leave and passed by the back of her chair, he gently gripped her shoulder by the base of her neck in farewell. His fingers burned on her skin and Mel wished for nothing more than to scream what she thought of those hands. And his hair. And his jaw.

Instead, she sat quietly and didn’t say a word.

***

“It must be nice getting to work without that lost puppy dog on your heels.”

Mel blinked, looking around the room but there was no one else in there beside herself, Dr. Ellis, and an unconscious patient.

“Are you talking to me?”

Dr. Ellis snorted. Not in an unkind way, but in a way that let Mel know she was being oblivious to something.

“Yes, Dr. King. I’m talking to you. Is it nice getting some work done without Dr. Langdon following you around everywhere?”

“Oh.” Mel paused at the computer screen. It was almost three in the morning and the effects of working nearly twenty-four hours straight were starting to take its toll. She had trouble forming exactly what she wanted to convey. “He doesn’t bother me. I like Dr. Langdon.”

Dr. Ellis made another amused noise, shaking her head as she scribbled something onto a clipboard.

“That’s not what I meant,” Mel continued quickly. She could feel the flush creeping up on her neck. “I just-he’s nice and I don’t get annoyed when he’s around-we’re friends-.”

“Calm down. You’re going to give yourself an aneurism.” Dr. Ellis wasn’t looking at her. She just continued scribbling. “When we discharged the group in central fifteen I had to let them down getnly. They were pretty disappointed Dr. Langon wasn’t the one in there. I think they were hoping for a phone number.”

Mel’s chest suddenly hurt. When she started typing again, her fingers were clacking the keys a little too hard. “Well, maybe they’ll get lucky and another one of them will crack their head open on the cement and he’ll be on duty and he can take care of them with his stupid hands-.”

“I told them he was already taken.”

Mel’s fingers froze on the keys. She glanced upwards, finding Dr. Ellis already watching her with an almost superior look on her face. “Why-why uh would you say that? He’s not seeing anybody.”

“No, not currently, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t already taken.” Dr. Ellis went back to scribbling, slowly walking towards the door. “It’s pretty obvious who he belongs to.”

Mel wasn’t really comprehending her words. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, stammering over words. Dr. Ellis propped the door open and fixed her with an expectant look.

“He’s not going to risk fucking things up first. He’s done that enough lately. It’s got to be you.”

Then, Mel was left alone with her mouth hanging open.

***

Mel spent the next four hours obsessing over Dr. Ellis’ words. The conversation had barely lasted a minute and yet it fully consumed her until the end of her shift. It didn’t help that she was sleep deprived and her body was fully functioning on a single diet coke and a twinkie she’d found in the break room a couple hours ago. She couldn’t stop replaying the words in her head.

It’s pretty obvious who he belongs to.

Langdon didn’t belong to her. He’d never expressed any interest in her other than being friendly at work. Right? Sure, he followed her around a bit and usually ducked into the break room the same time she did. He was her only co-worker who didn’t make her skin crawl when they touched-which he seemed to do quite a bit. But surely that just meant they were good friends. Right?

The crazed, sleep-deprived voice in the back of Mel’s head kept asking her though what if it meant something more?

Impossible. Langdon was funny and outgoing and had half of the female patients simpering after him. He had endless options out there and Mel couldn’t possibly see how she could be one of them.

It’s got to be you.

If. If. IF. Langdon was even slightly interested in her, she knew there was absolutely no way he’d act on it. He might be far more outgoing than Mel was, but he’d lost too many people he cared about. He had a genuine friend in Mel and, looking at things from his perspective, Mel could understand why he wouldn’t risk ruining what they had.

But, that was only if he was interested in her.

Mel was too tired to be thinking clearly. She needed to go home and sleep and fully process that many thoughts that were running through her mind, but she had no interest in that. Her muscles felt jumpy and there was a prickly feeling on her skin as she realized she needed to tell him exactly what’s he thought. She needed to tell him about what she thought of his hair, and his hands, and his stupid jaw. Mel had to or she was going to go insane.

Because maybe he would like her too.

***

“Mel, get out of here! You’re no use to anyone half-dead.”

It was Dr. Robby shouting at her. She had her bag slung over her shoulder and her keys clutched tightly in her hand. She left through the ambulance bay, wanting to avoid the madness of chairs, and opted to take the long way to the parking lot. The rest of the day-shifters had arrived and kicked her out as soon as possible. She needed sleep and quiet and a real meal, but…she still hadn’t told Langdon about the insane thoughts running through her mind.

He arrived not too long ago, seeking her out before he’d even stashed his backpack away. He was all smiles when asking her about her night. After quickly reassuring him that no one had stolen her diet coke, he was telling her to get out of there and get some sleep. So, Mel kept quiet. She left, refusing to look at him because she didn’t think she could.

She had to sleep before talking to him. She had to be thinking clearly.

So, there she was. On the outskirts of the ambulance bay watching as a gowned-Dr. Robby and Dr. Santos ran through the glass doors. They must have received a call that something bad was coming in, because it was a few seconds later that Langdon ran outside as well.

He caught her looking and one corner of his mouth raised.

She really loved that smile.

Screw thinking clearly.

“Dr. Langdon!”

His brow furrowed. It wasn’t fair that she was distracting him. He needed to focus on whatever catastrophe was heading their way, but she didn’t stop him as he jogged her direction. Dr. Robby and Dr. Santos turned on the spot, looking at her questioningly but neither said anything.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as he was in front of her. He really was quite a bit taller than her and had his eyes always been so blue? Maybe it was a trick of the sun. “Mel? You okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” She stammered. She didn’t have a lot of time. The sirens from the ambulance had appeared in the distance. “I know you’re busy but I just needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah. Of course.” The sirens were growing louder. Dr. Robby called over to them, but Langdon raised a hand before shouting over his shoulder that he would be there in a second. He gripped Mel’s elbow, inching sideways so that he blocked the other two from her sight. “What do you need?”

Mel couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him. This was insane and selfish and everything she wanted to say was getting jumbled inside her head-.

“I really like your face.”

There was a breath of tense, quiet air between them, then-.

“I like your face too.”

She felt her own, too-wide and too-toothy smile growing on her face.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I like your face a lot actually.” The sirens were impossibly loud. They had to be about to turn the corner. The smile on his faltered as he glanced in the direction of the noise and he let out an irritated sigh. “We’re going to have to talk about how much we like each other’s faces later-.”

“Well, I like yours so much I think I would like to sit on it.”

Mel felt the hand on her elbow stiffen as every muscle in Langdon’s face went slack. She frowned, unable to understand the emotions written. She’d never been very good at reading people and for a moment, she was worried she’d said the wrong thing.

“What did you say?”

Sirens blasted into the bay. The ambulance flew by them. Tires squealed. Mel waited for him to turn and run in the direction of the shouting, but he was still staring at her with that peculiar expression on his face. Dr. Robby was shouting again.

“I’m coming!” Langdon bellowed over his shoulder. His grip tightened on her elbow and he pulled her closer, so that their faces were only inches apart. When he spoke, it was in a voice so low she could barely hear him over the overwhelming sound around them. “Did you-did you mean that?”

Mel nodded. She thought he might have cursed as he dropped her elbow and ran a hand over his face. Another ambulance was speeding into the bay. They were out of time. He must have realized it too, because his head snapped in the direction of the other truck and he cursed again.

“Fuck me,” he muttered. His eyes shot back to her, wide and somehow darker than they were just seconds before. “We are talking about this as soon as I’m off. I swear.” Mel nodded. He raised his hands, like he was about to hold either side of her face, then caught himself. They clenched into fists and he started retreating to the ambulance. He dug in his pocket. “Put a pin in that thought, okay? Go to my apartment and wait for me there.”

He tossed her his keys. Mel dropped them. By the time she’d gathered them from the cement and straightened her glasses, he was already running along a blood-stained gurney through the glass doors.

***

Langdon lived in hell.

Fucking. Hell.

He only got to see his kids two nights a week. Every single one of his colleagues knew he was a recovering addict. Half of them still looked at him like they were worried he was going to swallow an entire bottle of pills at any moment.

And he was stuck on a twelve-hour shift with the biggest fucking hard on of his entire life because of Melissa King.

It hadn’t taken him long to fall for her. If he were being honest with himself, she’d sparked something in him her very first day. He and Abby had been treading water since before Penny was born. Back then, he used to wonder which one of them would finally have the courage to call it quits.

The whole drug addiction thing made it easy for them to stop pretending.

With the divorce papers signed and ten months of rehab under his belt, it became easy to get close with Mel. In fact, Mel becoming his closest friend was one of the easiest things in the world. It almost felt like second nature.

It was keeping his grimy hands to himself that was unbelievably difficult.

He didn’t remember when it had started, but somewhere down the line his chest started to get warm whenever she greeted him in the morning. When they worked over a patient together, he could pinpoint the exact spot their gloved hands had brushed an hour later because it would still be tingling. Alone, in his bed at night, he would wonder what her hair would look like spread across the pillow beside his or what she would sound like if he walked right up to her the next day, tangled his hands in that hair he couldn’t stop looking at, and kissed her like he really wanted to. Would she gasp? Whimper? It didn’t really matter. Langdon knew he could never find out.

Mel’s friendship was far too important for him to risk his sick fantasies on, so he kept his thoughts to himself like the creep he was.

But that had been before she proudly told him how much she liked his face.

And that she wanted to sit on it.

So, now it was game on.

The shift was brutal. Not only did he have to deal with the normal ruthlessness that came with working in the emergency room, but he had to do it all with his mind completely swarmed with thoughts of Mel and what he was going to do when he finally got his hands on her. Would she be waiting for him just inside the front door? Would she be in the bed? His bed? God, the idea of her in his bed after using his shower-he had to get home. He had to get home and get his hands on her and finally found what noise she would make-

Jesus fucking Christ he was hard.

And he still had several hours to get through.

Every higher being in the universe knew he had the girl of his fucking dreams waiting for him at home though, because he didn’t get off to anywhere close to on time. Multiple traumas had come in close to seven and he had an ungodly amount of charting to catch up on, so by the time he was racing up the steps of his apartment building, it was almost eleven at night.

Langdon nearly broke down his front door in his rush to get inside. He wanted to see her so badly. He wanted to hear about how much she liked his stupid face, so he could tell her he couldn’t ever stop thinking about hers. He wanted to tell her just how special she was, while he yanked on her thighs and dragged her over his mouth. The words were on the tip of his tongue as he flung open the door to his dark bedroom, then instantly died.

 Mel was asleep.

Curled on the far side of his bed, she didn’t even flinch as his door bounced off the wall. Her hands were balled into tiny fists by her cheek, and her glasses were hanging off her face awkwardly. She wasn’t even under the covers, allowing him a full view of her bare legs and his faded hockey t-shirt that bunched around her thighs. And her hair. God, her fucking hair that he couldn’t ever get out of his head draped across the pillow like he was in some sort of dream.

Mel. His Mel. In his bed. In his shirt. Looking like she had been waiting for him to come home, even though she’d been working twenty-four hours. Langdon couldn’t tell if his dick or his heart was going to burst first.

Sidelining his original plan of jumping her as soon as he walked in the door, he shut the bedroom door as quietly as possible. The room sunk back into darkness as the only light came from streetlights from outside the window. He dropped his bag and kicked off his shoes, before grabbing an old pair of sweats and silently moving into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him.

Mel was sleeping in his bed. For how long, Langdon had no idea, so he wasn’t about to be the selfish jerk who woke her up. Cranking on the shower, he stepped underneath the boiling the streams of water, before wrapping his hand around his throbbing cock. It was almost painful, but he had to do something to take the edge off before climbing into bed next to her. The most unsatisfying orgasm of his life came quickly, but he didn’t care because Mel was in his bed.

Mel. His Mel. In his bed. In his shirt.

And that was worth a thousand shitty orgasms.

***

Mel woke slowly.

She had done as Langdon instructed and gone right to his apartment as soon as she left the hospital. She hadn’t even bothered untying her shoes before she fell onto his couch and promptly passed out for several hours. She might have woken in the early evening with drool dripping down her chin and her braid in a tangled, frizzy mess, but she felt better. More grounded. More sure of herself.

Langdon had told her to go there. He didn’t laugh at her. He didn’t shut her down.

He said he liked her face.

Mel showered and tossed her clothes in his washing machine. She used his comb to yank the tangles out of her hair and threw on one of his t-shirts. She debated slipping on a pair of his boxers as well but, after hesitating, decided just on the t-shirt. It seemed like something the main character would do in one of the romcom movies she liked. So, she got onto his bed wearing nothing but his t-shirt, waiting with twisting hands for him to come home.

Then, she fell asleep.

It must have been for a few hours, because the room was far darker than it had been when she laid down on the covers. The main source of light came from underneath the bathroom door, where the sounds of someone moving around whispered through. She had just enough time to sit up and straighten her glasses, before the door opened and yellow light filled the room.

Langdon was in front of her in a pair of gray sweats, steam billowing around him. He had been running a towel through his damp hair, but froze when he saw her. She thought she might have seen something flex in jaw as his eyes drifted to her curled legs underneath her. She shifted slightly, nerves beginning to tremor in her body when his gaze lifted back to her.

His mouth quirked. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Mel twisted her hands in her lap. The towel dropped to the floor and took every ounce of her willpower to not ogle his arms as he crossed them. “I tried to wait up for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I was coming to sleep with you.”

“Oh, okay.” Disappointment flooded her chest, but she smiled slightly to hide it. A line appeared in between Langdon’s brows. “Do you want to just go to bed?”

“Do you?”

He said he liked her face.

“No.”

The quirk in his mouth was back. Mel glowered, annoyed that he oozed confidence and casualness while she felt like she was a twisting mess of anxiety. She wanted so badly to be like those girls at the hospital; pretty, confident, fun. Instead, her body felt like it was about to go into fight or flight mode.

“You want to talk about what you told me right before I was responsible for saving the lives of those shooting victims?”

Mel grimaced. “Sorry about that. My timing could have used a little work. I was just scared if I didn’t say something-.” She swallowed, struggling to come out with the rest.

“What?” he frowned. “You were scared of what?”

He said he liked her face.

It has to be you.

“I was scared if I didn’t say something, I would be too late and one of those stupid, pretty girls would be all over you and you’d have great sex and fall in love and she would be your kids stepmom and bring you lunches at work and I would have to watch you kiss her stupid face-.”

“Mel, what are you talking about?” His frown deepened. Not in anger or frustration, but in genuine confusion. Had she not been so upset, it would almost look comical. “What girls?”

“Those girls that came in yesterday! In those sequin dresses. They couldn’t stop talking about you and it was so frustrating! They kept going on about your hands and your hair, but I like your hands and your hair! I like your face! I don’t want other girls to like it and I don’t want you to like other girls! I want your hands on me and I want to be the one to touch your hair and I want to be the one to sit on-.”

She didn’t even register that he had crossed the space between the bed and the bathroom door until his hands had grabbed either side of her face and pulled her up for a kiss. A noise like a squeak came from somewhere in her throat and she thought she might have felt the hint of a smile on his lips. In her angry tirade, she’d risen on her knees so it was easy to throw her arms around his neck as she caught a taste of his mint on his breath.

“Please tell me you meant what you said.” He said the words like a desperate plea, only a hairline of air between their mouths as his thumbs moved slowly on her cheekbones.

“Which part?”

“All of it. Wanting me. Wanting…us.”

Mel nodded and it seemed to be the only reassurance he needed. His touch vanished from her face, but the kiss deepened and she whimpered as his tongue swept into her mouth. Suddenly, his hands snatched on the back of her thighs, yanking her tightly against him.

“Are you wearing anything underneath this?” The words were spoken in a gravelly whisper against her lips. Mel’s face felt warm, but she shook her head before a strange, deep noise came from his chest and his mouth was back on hers. Needier. Hungrier.

“I-I was trying to be sexy.”

One of his hands had a bruising grip on her thigh; kneading and digging with each movement of their mouths. The other had tangled itself at the base of her scalp, in the roots of her hair. He used it to angle her neck, his mouth moving to her throat.

“Yeah, well you succeeded.”

Mel couldn’t breathe properly. She couldn’t form a coherent thought. She’d never been kissed like that in her entire life. Her mind didn’t know where to focus; his mouth on her neck, the feel of his overheated skin underneath her fingertips, or the incredible feeling of want growing between her legs.

His mouth was back on her hers. Nipping and biting. The hand in her hair seemed to be holding on for dear life, securing her to him like she was in danger of disappearing. Mel broke their mouths apart, taking in a much needed lungful of air as she ran her fingers along the hair at the base of his neck. He shuddered, his own breaths warm and deep on her face.

“Do you actually like my face?” she demanded in a soft voice, because despite everything that was currently happening, there was the sliver of doubt.

Langdon’s forehead pressed to hers and Mel could have cried at the contact. “You have no idea how much I love your face and how much I can’t stop thinking about it. Mel-baby-you’re on my mind all the time. I can’t ever stop thinking about those little jokes you make and your laugh and how fucking nice you are to everyone. I haven’t been able to get you off my mind for a while, so everything that’s happening right now is like my biggest sexual fantasy.”

Mel snorted.

“I’m being serious. I came home from work and there’s a blonde in my bed, wearing my favorite Penguins shirt, and no underwear. That’s like a dream opening to a porno.” He moved without warning, grabbing the back of her thighs as she was mid-laugh to support her weight as he turned them around. Mel opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a quick kiss. “Don’t say a single word about my back.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she lied. Langdon settled on the bed, laying down on the pillows and yanking Mel to sit directly over his waist. The movement sent a spark low in her stomach but she kept quiet. Underneath her, Langdon appeared relaxed. He stretched an arm above his head while his other hand rested on her thigh. His fingers brushed where his shirt was bunched on her skin but made no movement to slip between them. “I think that’s the first time someone has called me baby.”

“Good. We can try out a few different nicknames though.”

Mel grinned. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I want to find one that grosses everyone out at work without being degrading. It’s a fine line.”

She paused, her fingers digging slightly into the muscles on his chest. She felt her smile falter. “You-you want people to know-like this going to be a real relationship?”

His own smile dropped. Mel felt his hand flex on her thigh. “Oh my fucking God, I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself. Forget I said that. We don’t have to tell anyone about-there isn’t even anything to tell-.”

“I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” Mel interrupted, her words slightly above a whisper but they shut Langdon up instantly. “It sounds really pathetic when I say it out loud, but it’s the truth. You know, I think you’re my best friend and if you want to do this-.”

He surged upwards, a hand snatching around her neck to drag her down on top of him. His mouth collided with hers, devouring the sound she made as his hips twitched beneath her own. As fast as it started, their mouth broke apart and sounding as if he were drowning, Langdon spoke against her mouth. “We’re doing this.”

Mel laughed, before he pulled her back. He had been laughing too, so the kiss was sloppy and imperfect, but Mel didn’t care because she couldn’t remember a single moment that she’d felt more joy and utter, complete happiness. Warmth flooded her and there was no fighting the smile as their mouths moved together. She felt his hand go back to her hair, tanging itself, while his other hand slipped under her shirt. It didn’t move to her center, only resting on her bare hipbone. Mel had a vague thought about what he was doing, when his grip changed, pining her hip down sharply as he rolled his hips underneath her.

Mel gasped in his mouth. He did the movement again, smirking at the way her mouth went slack at the feeling. The hand in her hair slide to the side of her face, angling her head so his mouth could work along her jaw until he reached her ear.

“If you wanted to climb up here, I can fulfill that wish of yours.”

Mel leaned into his touch. Her eyes fluttered close as his mouth worked on the sensitive skin by her ear. “Maybe.”

“Having second thoughts about my face?”

“I don’t-” The skin on her face warmed. Unease twisted low in her gut. Swallow thickly, she stumbled over the words. “I don’t really know what to do.” His mouth on her skin paused, before he settled back against the pillows to look at her clearly. Mel straightened, trying to hide the nerves from showing on her face. She didn’t usually mind how easily he could read her, but in that moment, she hated it.

When he spoke, it was in a slow, calculated voice. “When you say you don’t know what to do, do you mean-?”

“I don’t know what to do,” she repeated, in a defensive tone. Her face was burning, but Langdon was still staring at her with that odd expression. “At all. I mean, I know how, I’ve just never had any practical experience-.”

“You’ve never had sex before?” The hands that had fallen to either side of her hips had her in a bruising grip. Langdon’s mouth was hanging open slightly and Mel swore she was going to die from embarrassment.

“No. I told you I’ve never had a boyfriend. No one’s ever wanted me before.”

She couldn’t help but feel defensive as the words slipped out. Langdon was still holding her in a bruising grip, but his expression had changed from shocked curiosity to something so gut wrenching painful that Mel could barely look at him.

“I cannot wait,” he started in a low voice, through a stiff jaw, while he fingers began to knead into her skin. “To show you how fucking bad I want you. Please-please for the love of God, let me show you. I promise if there’s something you don’t like, I’ll stop. You just say the word.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.” She gave an experimental twist of her hips, enjoying the groan it brought from his throat as her center moved over the bulge in his sweats. “What about you?”

“He got plenty of tough love in the shower.” Langdon was already sliding his arms under her legs, forcing her body upwards. A slight feeling of uncertainty twisted low in her gut, Mel allowed herself to be held over him. “Trust me, he’ll be fine for a little while.”

Mel was about to argue, but a curse came out instead as his tongue ran along her center.

***

The air in the room was heavy. Sweat dotted Frank’s back where her nails had dug into the skin and his breath was warm on her temple. He sloppily placed an open mouth kiss to her forehead.

“Frank?”

He didn’t move his mouth from against her skin, but he shifted his face slightly to show he was listening.

“Is it always like that?”

“No,” he answered quickly, shaking his head. He shifted his weight, rolling until he stretched out beside her. His chest was still rising and falling rapidly, but he swung an arm out to snag around her middle. Mel complied, turning until her back rested against his too-warm chest. She was still wearing the Penguins shirt. “No. It was like that because it was you and me.”

Mel didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to. She knew she needed to get out of bed, They both needed to clean themselves up and try to get a few hours of sleep before work in the morning, but she was far too content to do so at that moment. Frank must have decided the same thing, because his rapidly moving chest slowly changed to a slow, peaceful rising and falling.

“Frank?” she asked for a second time, her voice quiet in the dark room.

“Hm?” He sounded like he was half-asleep.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked my face? Before, I mean?”

He shifted slightly beside her, the arm around her flexing as he tucked his hand under her shirt to splay across her belly.

“I didn’t want to screw anything up. You know, if you weren’t interested.”

Mel pondered that a moment. “I almost didn’t say anything either. I probably wouldn’t have, but then Dr. Ellis convinced me to.”

The arm around her froze. Frank’s head lifted from the pillow behind her, and he gazed down at her. “What did she do?”

“She told me last night things between us were pretty obvious. If it hadn’t been for her pushing me, I probably would have kept quiet too. I’ve always really liked her, but I didn’t realize she looked out for people like. Isn’t that nice?”

Frank snorted, before plopping his head back down. “Sure, baby.”

Mel twisted in his arms, glowering. “What?”

“I’ll bet you ten bucks there’s some hidden betting pool about us getting together and she was getting close to the end of her timeframe.”

Mel’s mouth dropped open. “You really think so?”

“Definitely.” His arm tightened around her again and despite her annoyance at their coworkers, she curled back tightly against him. She felt his lips press into her hair, before he continued speaking in a sleepy voice. “Try to get some sleep. We’ve got some paperwork we’ve got to file with HR before our shift.”

Mel drifted off to sleep. In Franks’s shirt. In his bed. In his arms.

[sequinedaydreams]

Kingdon Ao3 Fic Recs Part 1

hello, hello!! here is my first kingdon fanfiction recommendation list (get comfy, it's a long one)!

quick note: if you know any of the missing tumblr users, please message me so i can tag them & if there's a fic you think should be on the list, let me know and i'll add it to the next one!

happy reading 🩷

legend: ongoing | completed | multiple works

breaking the surface by lonelychicago (@ferrarisma)

there's a car accident on mel's day off. she ends up at the pitt anyways

rating: mature

from the sidelines by griffenly (@cvldbones)

she gets this tingling in the back of her head, sometimes, when she can’t quite be sure what she knows, just that she knows something. she feels it as she watches mel show langdon the tablet; her hands are gesticulating wildly as she explains, pointing to the screen occasionally, but langdon’s eyes never leave her face. It is a wonder, dana thinks, the poor girl doesn’t just combust on the spot from the force of his gaze

rating: teen+

mel king and the art of touch by ironcharlie (@ironcharliee)

frank thinks mel doesn't do physical touch. or, mel doesn't realize they've been dating for nine months

rating: explicit

this is not the frank show by papermarrow

frank wakes up with no memory. but that's not the strange part. the strange part is the beautiful doctor at his bedside. and the way his chest aches when he sees the ring on her finger

rating: teen+

the whole world is sleeping (but my world is you) by fromiftowhen (@fromiftowhen)

over a series of late night talks, texts, facetimes, and maybe dates, langdon and mel fall in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once

rating: mature

228 oak hill drive by solitude_of_stars

the many encounters of frank langdon and melissa king as observed by esther cornell, who would like to make it abundantly clear that she isn't as nosy as this will make her seem

rating: teen+

what to do, now that i've found you? by prncesselene (@prncesselene)

mel can't stop stealing frank's clothes. it's becoming quite the problem

rating: teen+

saw the writing on the wall by soul_meets_body (@slightly-obssesed)

mel’s third-favorite scene in dirty dancing is only a second long. it’s when johnny jumps off the stage during the final dance and flips his head up right on cue with the singer crooning “hey, baby!” so it was very distracting that, for the rest of the day after her karaoke session with myrna, frank had been quietly singing those two words to her every time they ran into each other. a “hey baby!” when he slid into the chair next to her in the breakroom. another when they met in the middle both jogging to an ambulance. she couldn’t help but laugh every time he did it which, knowing frank, meant he’d probably do it tomorrow, and the next day, and the next

rating: teen+

not in the swing of things (yet) by melikaelena

frank finds out that mel doesn't have any birthday plans. he sets out to change that

rating: teen+

ruin the friendship by izzyitcool

all the times mel king and frank langdon healed each other

you're a good man, frank langdon by avocadomoon

dr. frank langdon: steals drugs, gets divorced, cheats on his wife, goes to rehab, falls in love. not necessarily in that order, though if you ask him it's not really any of your fuckin' business

rating: explicit

where she belongs by flow

mel receives a letter and spends an entire shift discovering that the life she's been carefully navigating has already made room for her

rating: general

the parent trap by anonymous

mel wants to be a mom. frank offers to be her baby daddy. but when mel gets a taste of hooking up with frank, she starts taking birth control to prolong their intimate time together. it's a reverse baby-trapping

rating: explicit

all she has given, all i have taken by fathomless

"oh my god," mel breathes, turning to look at frank. "that's a baby." a weird, blob-like shape resembling a baby that will be a baby, at least. their baby. "wow," he says from where he stands at her shoulder, but his voice is thick, and she looks up to find his eyes wet, glistening against the light from the screen. "holy shit, mel, that's our baby." mel grapples with her impending motherhood amidst caring for her sister, a fellowship program, and missing her own mom. frank is the support she needs

rating: mature

evie by debutante_gurl (@tvgremlin)

mel and langdon's one month old daughter spikes a fever and they head to the pitt for help

i'd get away with your heart (and make it look easy) by takemehome21 (@thelightreflects)

it takes three weeks for him to cross the line he set for himself when he drove her home after that fourth of july shift and ask her if he can stay the night at her place. he knows they can be friendly at work, though he can’t actually be friends with her, not when he’s dealing with recovery and a trial separation and the desire to make everything better for her. but he forgets all of that after just one night. and then it becomes a habit

rating: explicit

emergency contact by 1carusfalling (@1-carusfalling)

mel doesn't have an emergency contact. frank changes that

rating: mature

together in a real way by maplemaplemaple (@miracle-and-wonder)

five times when no one had any idea frank and mel were together, and one time when it was plainly obvious

rating: teen+

it's dr. mel king, mrs. langdon if you're nasty by shedelulululu (@shedelulululu)

it's season 1 of the pitt bu i asked the brave question of what if mel was abby the whole time

rating: teen+

in this autumn town by coffeealwayshelps (@coffeealwayshelps)

frank and mel fall in love the autumn after frank returs to ptmc

rating: explicit

work/life partners by smokingthemoutbasements (@smokingthemoutbasement)

langdon and mel have gotten close since her first day. carpooling, watching movies with becca, and then kissing. they don't talk about their relationship until after a shift goes very bad

rating: mix of general, teen+ and explicit

guess who? by billspaid

when santos ends up at mel's place, she finds a few things out of the ordinary, including a crate of redbull, a pack of cigarettes, and a guy sleeping in mel's bed

rating: general

about you (do you think i've forgotten?) by poppykatherine

frank keeps an ongoing list of all of mel's quirks, needs, and likes on his notes app. except mel doesn't know and she will never know... right?

rating: mature

from your point of view by talktothesky (@thatkingdon)

five times someone sees a picture of mel on frank's phone + one time someone sees a picture of frank on mel's phone

rating: teen+

hiya, barbie! hi, ken! by bloodofangrymen

frank picks up an injured mel from the hospital and takes her home, because they're friends, best friends... really close best friends, emergency contact best friends, sleeping in the same bed best friends, call each other baby best friends, you know, regular best friends

rating: mix of general and explicit

love you like i mean it by instrumentals

frank and mel pretend to date. somewhere along the way, the lines get a little blurred.

rating: explicit

countdown by lirazel

langdon's emotional support human is on leave and he's going to make that everyone else's problem

rating: teen+

laidover by avocadomoon

"you want me to be the bad guy, fine," he said

rating: explicit

everybody knows it but you by fathomless (@soulmaetes)

frank tries to hint that he's getting divorced. mel doesn't quite get the memo

rating: explicit

in the land of god's cathedrals... by phoenixtalon

lord frank langdon is desperate. after his wife's unexpected passing, he is completely unable to mange his young children, who have successfully chased off eight potential nannies. overwhelmed by grief and recovering from his own demons, he places an advertisement for a governess... which catches the eye of a certain miss mel king...

rating: explicit

fresh out the slammer by jillybean414

frank langdon is falling apart. he's a recovering drug addict, recently divorced, guilt-ridden doctor who misses his partner in crime dr. robby. he's always had a soft spot for dr. mel king. but when she starts to be his grounding when his world feels like its constantly spinning, he starts to wonder if maybe there's more to it. mel king is sunshine personified, but no one else seems to realize. all mel wants is to fit. for someone to have her back as she constantly has others. the only person at the ptmc who feels like they're in her corner is her attending, dr. frank langdon. as their relationship grows, mel realizes she might want langdon as more that a co-worker, more than a friend

rating: not rated

three's a crowd by fathomless (@soulmaetes)

becca likes dr. langdon when she meets him during her emergency room visit. it’s later, when he's introduced to her as mel's friend frank, that she decides she isn't so sure

rating: teen+

confidence game by avocadomoon

"everything's fucking falling apart," abby croaked, her voice thick with snot. "and you're - of course you're like this, you're fucking nice. oh my god." "i'm not that nice!" mel said frantically. i stole your husband, she thought. for example

rating: explicit

watch it go 'round and 'round by nnebulae (@nnebulae)

mel's pregnancy through the eyes of her (sometimes incredibly oblivious) coworkers

rating: general

twenty stitches in a hospital room by rowenamacleod

the paramedic opens the back door, jumping down into the snow with a soft crunch. she looks over at them, brows furrowing. "figured there'd be more of you," she said, and mel frowns. "didn't they tell you over the radio? Pretty sure this guy works here." the world goes quiet in mel's ears as the two paramedics get the stretcher down to the ground, and the patient's face comes into view- as frank's face comes into view, bloodied and bruised where it was secured in a neck brace. she freezes, unable to move; watches in slow motion as mohan leans over frank, assessing his injuries, while dana takes report from the paramedics

rating: teen+

jigsaw falling into place by pansiesandposies

frank has never really bought into the whole soulmate thing

rating: teen+

all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? by nicknamebolters

mel and frank go through moments of connection and separation, guided by invisible strings, until they finally find each other

rating: mature

they'll hang us in the louvre by cealesti

soulmateism made literal

rating: mature

little pieces of light by dmh23

five times other people clocked mel and langdon having feelings for each other, and one time langdon did

rating: mature

on fire for you by griffenly (@cvldbones)

the chest tube was set up, donnie standing by with the balloon. garcia glanced over the head lac and burns. "or 2 is open, send her up. oh, and langdon," she called over her shoulder, hovering in the doorway. "king is next door"

rating: mature

langdon's (not so secret) family by icouldnttellya

there were three things to know about dr. frank langdon. one: he was a great. two: he was an extremely private person. three: and he loved his wife and kids

rating: general

you're my baby (say it to me) by aphrsditea (@aphrsditea)

mel king has never cum from sex with another human human being and frank bets he can change that

rating: mature

the feeling flows both ways by aphrsditea (@aphrsditea)

au in which frank and mel meet in undergrad, fall in love and follow each other to the ends of the earth

rating: mature

melanoma by great_shark_lamia

mel moves to night shift. frank comes back. trinity santos needs to learn that nicknames hurt

rating: mature

heard the risk is drowning, but i'm gonna take it by itshvnnvh (@gansey-jackson)

mel king loves frank langdon. frank langdon loves mel king. neither of them will say it

rating: not rated

is it wrong if i see him this weekend by pansiesandposies

mel meets her roomates older brother

rating: explicit

a good wife, a greater woman by griffenly (@cvldbones)

so, call it narcissism or naïveté or plain old delusion, but abby is certain their marriage is going to survive this, one way or another. that is, of course, until she meets melissa king

rating: teen+

breathing clean air by novared

frank forgot to turn his location off and abby can't remember the last time she thought about frank this much

rating: general

how not to impress an attending by caelavik

"i did meet the new intern, by the way. heard she and frank got a long very well today." princess loved her job: she got to save people and have her daily dose of chismis (gossip)

rating: general

five times by aud_diane (@auddy-95)

dr. king and dr. langdon successfully hide their relationship five times. then, there's the time they don't

rating: explicit

✨yearners✨ by neverlandjisoo

the obligatory group chat fic (multi-ship - mel/langdon, samira/abbot, dennis/robby, santos/garcia)

rating: explicit

[auddy-95]

Thank you for the shoutout! 🫶🏻

[auddy-95]

Five Times-Kingdon One Shot

Pairing: Melissa *Mel* King/Frank Langdon

Summary: Mel and Dr. Langdon successfully hide their relationship five times. Then, there's the time they don't.

Warnings: 18+, canon typical violence, smut, language

Read below or on ao3

The morning started in chaos; fiery, chaos.

In the early hours of the morning, a nearby apartment building caught fire. It was only two blocks from Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center, which meant every victim was wheeled through their doors. Mel, as well as the other day shifters, had received urgent calls to come in ahead of schedule.

Mel treated more burns and smoke inhalation than she could count before the sun had even risen and once the building collapsed, she saw more than her fair share of crushed limbs. It was almost noon before the madness slowed. The ICU had taken what they could and the less critical boarders were stable and relatively comfortable in what was an otherwise eerily calm day in the emergency room.

Mel shoved through the door to the break room, greeted with the smell of burnt coffee. It was a stark contrast to the stench of smoke that lingered in the air on other side of the door. Whitaker and Santos were sitting on the floor, their backs slumped against the wall. Mohan was at the small table, looking just as exhausted. Dr. Langdon was facing away from her at the kitchen counter, scooping more grounds into the ancient coffee pot, and McKay was beside his feet. Her legs were crossed and she was slumped forward with her chin resting in her hands. She looked like she was on the verge of falling asleep. Everyone was clutching Styrofoam cups of caffeine and Mohan even still had a streak of foreign blood on her forehead that she didn’t seem concerned with wiping off. They all looked like they’d just survived some sort of battle.

In a way, Mel supposed they did.

“In quickly and shut the door behind you, Melanoma,” Santos hissed. Her hair was still messily piled on top of her head. “Can’t you tell we’re hiding?”

“Oh, sorry.” Mel clicked the door shut, before awkwardly shuffling in place. There wasn’t much room for her to go anywhere else. “I was just wondering where everyone went. Who are we hiding from?”

“Anyone with the authority to tell us to get off the floor,” Whitaker answered in a defeated tone.

“The med students can handle things for a few minutes.” Santos ripped her hair tie out of the frizzy mess on her head and started tying it back up. “No one is about to die out there.”

Mel nodded, resounding to spend the next few minutes hiding out with her colleagues. She was tired and a cup of coffee sounded like just the thing to power through the rest of her shift.

McKay looked liked she finally drifted off and Mohan must have realized there was still blood on her, because she was scrubbing at her forehead with a discarded napkin. Langdon was still overly focused on the coffee pot, not once looking over his shoulder in her direction. Mel didn’t mind, although she used to. She remembered when she finally bucked up the courage and demanded to know why he stopped looking her in the eye, why he refused to be alone with her in a room, why he avoided brushing against her at all costs-it had been the only time she raised her voice at him.

His answer had made her blush harder than she ever had before, rendering her silent in quiet shock.

That had been a couple weeks ago.

So, Mel ignored him like he ignored her. She re-did her braid, which she imagined looked just as messy as Santos’s, and shrugged out of the sweatshirt she’d arrived to work in. She didn’t even have time to take it off before she was throwing on a gown and gloves and jumping in to save the first patient. She was tempted to just throw it away. It reeked of smoke and she was pretty sure there was some form of bodily fluids on it. She didn’t really want a biohazard for a piece of clothing.

“Jesus, Melanoma who did you steal that from?”

Santos’s demanded question was fired her direction and the eyes in the room snapped her direction. Even McKay blinked sleepily up at her. Mel frowned, holding her crumpled sweatshirt by her side. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Where did you get that? You look ridiculous.”

Langdon finally turned, a cup of coffee raised to his lips. When he looked at Mel, his eyes widened in silent terror over the rim of his cup. Mel looked down, realizing her scrub top was couple sizes too large, hanging off her awkwardly and exposing the tank top she was wearing underneath. Her face warmed.

“Oh, um-I had to get a new one and they were out of my size-.”

“You couldn’t have waited until they had your size? Or asked one of us if we had an extra?” Santos motioned to the other women in the room. “Go exchange that in. It looks like it’s going to fall off of you.”

“Yeah, that’s-that’s a great idea.” Mel walked backwards through the door, back into the emergency room with its overly bright lights and loud noises. Her breathing was coming out a little too quickly as she ducked into central fourteen. It was empty, with fresh sheets and a strong smell of disinfectant that almost covered the smell of smoke. Mel ripped the curtain shut, before scrambling back into her sweatshirt.

Just as it got stuck over her head, there was the rustling of the curtain shifting.

“Breathe, Mel. You’re going to pass out.”

The garment was yanked over her head, knocking her glasses sideways. Langdon had two cups of coffee clutched expertly in a single hand, while the other set her glasses on straight. Mel shook her head, her face hot.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped in a heated whisper. “We were in such a hurry-I didn’t mean to grab yours. I didn’t even realize I had it on-.”

“Mel, honey. Relax.” He forced one of the cups of coffee into her trembling hands. He shifted slightly, lowering his head to force her gaze on him. Mel swallowed at the sight of his blue eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”

“We didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Yeah, and no one does.” He reached hand out, gently fixing a loose strand of her blonde hair. His callused fingers brushed the side of her neck and she sighed, leaning slightly into the touch. “Everyone is too tired to give a shit you’re wearing the wrong size of scrub top.”

“But Santos-.”

“Will probably give you some stupid nickname to commemorate the moment, but it can’t be worse than Melanoma, so who cares.” Mel breathed a grin. “We’ll find yours tonight. No big deal. Now, drink some of crappy coffee I made you or you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

He pulled back the curtain, ushering her back into the madness of the emergency room. Mel took a quick sip of the coffee, thankful that he’d dumped in the obscene amount of sugar she liked in hers. She slipped in front of one of the empty computers, intent on catching up on some charting before they became overwhelmed with patients again, when a thought occurred to her.

“Wait.” Langdon was still close to hear her, his eyes fixed on the brightly colored board above them. He glanced down at her to show he was listening. “Tonight? I didn’t know I was coming over tonight.”

His mouth quirked and Mel felt a familiar flush rush over her body. He leaned on her desk, reaching across her to get a pen. When his face was close to hers, goosebumps appeared on the back of her neck. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

“I am going to have to get through the next seven hours with the image of you in my scrubs seared in my head. You’re coming over tonight.” He straightened, pocketing the pen he’d taken. His hair had flopped onto his forehead and as he raised his cup her direction, Mel silently thought it should be a crime for anyone to look so good. “Drink up, Dr. King. You’re going to need some caffeine.”

Mel finished her coffee and had another.

***

Javadi had insisted she didn’t want a birthday party.

It was apparent no one at work really cared though, because Perlah and Princess planned one away. It wasn’t anything extravagant. They planned it right after the day shift at the bar across the street. They claimed a corner of high-top tables by twisting pink streamers around the chair and there was even a small cake, decorated with pink and purple icing. Scrawled on the top in messy writing were the words ‘Happy 21st Birthday!’

Langdon thought it was cute, in a girly sort of way. Navigating the busy Friday night crowd, he recognized several familiar faces. Robby saw him, before ignoring him with calculated indifference, but he hadn’t expected much more. On his first day, Robby made it clear he didn’t want him as one of residents and they hadn’t spoken since. McKay waved at him happily and Whitaker gave him an awkward nod in greeting. Despite her requests being ignored, Javadi was smiling brightly; her eyes wide and warm as she laughed and chatted with the doctors and nurses that had stopped by. He passed her, clapping a hand on her shoulder and wishing her a happy birthday as he went, but he wasn’t really there to celebrate Javadi. He was looking for Mel.

He’d been behind on some charting, so when their shift came to a close and the mass of day shifters had wandered to the bar, he had remained behind to catch up on some work. That had been over an hour ago and now, he wanted nothing more than to find Mel and get back to one of their apartments.

“You okay?” It was Whitaker, appearing beside him and holding a diet coke. Like most of those in attendance, he was still wearing his black scrubs.

“Uh, yeah.” Langdon still couldn’t find his favorite blonde braid in the crowd. He nodded towards the can of pop in Whitaker’s hand. “Not a drinker?”

“I work tomorrow, so I’m Trinity’s dd. She’s got the day off. What about you? You’re not drinking anything?”

“No, alcohol is kind of frowned upon when you’re a recovering drug addict.”

Whitaker flushed. “Oh, shit. Sorry-.”

“It’s okay. I’m just messing with you.” Langdon glanced around again. No sign of his braid. He was starting to wonder if the pressing crowd and loud music had been too much for her. “I’m actually needing to talk to Mel about something-it’s work stuff-so if you’ll excuse me-.”

“I don’t think she’s going to want to talk about work,” Whitaker grimaced, gesturing towards the bar. “Trinity found out she had the morning off tomorrow too. I don’t know really know who suggested the first shot-.”

Langdon didn’t let him finish. Shoving through Perlah and Princess, who scowled and cursed him in a language he didn’t understand, he finally caught sight of her. Her cheeks were stained pink and a few wisps of her blonde hair had come undone from her braid. God, he fucking loved her hair. He remembered the first time he saw it undone, flowing down her back in gentle waves that he could run his fingers through.

He stood there like that for a minute, like an idiot just ogling her as she laughed a little too loudly at something Mohan had said. Santos had another shot of clear liquid raised, her own eyelids heavy and her face slightly flushed, when she caught his gaze. Her features instantly darkened.

She didn’t like him. He didn’t particularly over enjoy her either, but Mel had ripped into him the week before after he said something not-very-nice about Santos, so he kept his comments to a minimum.

Mel frowned at the look on Santos’s face, before turning on her barstool to follow her gaze. Her eyes locked onto his and her entire face erupted into a wide smile. Something warm rushed through his chest.

“Frank!”

Fuck.

“Hey, Dr. King,” he grinned stiffly, praying to any god that was listening that everyone around them was too drunk to notice she called him by his first name. “You look like you’re having a good time.”

“I’m having the best time!” she beamed. “Did you know I’ve never taken a shot before?”

“Oh, yeah? I’m guessing that’s changed in the last hour.”

“I’ve had four! And they’re really not as bad as thought they would be. Trinity showed me this thing with a lime-.”

“Why are you over here?” Santos demanded over Mel’s shoulder. Her eyes were icy and Langdon matched her glare.

“I was just checking on Mel,” he answered, cooly. “Is that not allowed?”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were her babysitter.”

“Trinity, stop. He isn’t my babysitter. He and I are-.”

“Best friends!” Langdon shouted the words at a deafening volume, causing Mohan to spill her beer down the front of her scrubs. He coughed, trying to cover the panic that had laced his tone. “We have just become very good friends, and I know she doesn’t drink much, so I just wanted to check on her.”

Mel’s brows came together, a sad smile twisting onto her face, but Santos rolled her eyes, before downing another shot.

“I’m okay,” she answered, still smiling at him sweetly. She glanced to the clock hanging above the bar. “I think I’m ready to go home though. I don’t want to make myself sick.”

There were protests from Mohan and Santos, but Mel was only looking at Langdon as she hopped down from her bar stool. She must have been over-confident in her motor skills, because she immediately lost her balance, tipping forward as soon as her feet hit the floor. Langdon reached, snatching her tightly in his grasp and using every ounce of willpower to not tuck her against him as he did so often.

“Easy there, Dr. King.”

She wasn’t looking at him. Her fingers were digging into his arms, holding on to dear life, and that was where her eyes had landed.

“Oh my God, I love these arms. Have I ever told you how much I love these arms?”

Fuck.

“Okay, time to go. Why don’t I give you a ride. Is that okay, Dr. King?”

She swiveled her gaze back up to him, her eyes slightly unfocused as she squinted at him through her glasses. A part of him was tempted to laugh at how damn cute she looked.

“Why are you asking to drive me home? It’s Thursday. We always go to your-.”

“Okay, ride home it is!” Her nearly shouted the words again, but thankfully, the other two women were too caught up in ordering another drink to listen too carefully to Mel’s words. He was more concerned with the crowd of hospital personnel surrounding them. “Do you have anything here you need to grab?”

Faster than he thought possible for someone as drunk as she was, her hands shot to the waistband of his scrubs. Her small, careful fingers barely grazed the skin above his waistband and he bit back an audible groan, before snatching her hands tightly in his grasp. Mel smiled at him. “You asked if I needed to grab something, so I wanted to grab-.”

“Jesus Christ, Mel,” he muttered, dropping her hands and grabbing her shoulders to shove her through the crowd. She didn’t protest. In fact, she seemed pretty happy to be leaving. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

“To do what with me?”

He cursed again, upping his pace to get her out the door faster. He felt one of her hands drift up his neck, reaching for the strands of hair that she loved to grab and he quickly snatched it back to her side. Close to the entrance, Whitaker saw them and waved him down. Langdon nodded, slowly down and lowering his head to Mel’s ear. “Baby, do me a favor and keep your mouth shut. Okay?”

She nodded, clamping her lips tight as Whitaker elbowed up to them. “Leaving already?”

“I’m gonna give her a ride home,” he said, gesturing down to Mel. She gave him a tight smile, her lips still tightly closed. “She was little worried she’d overdo it. Give me a call if you need help getting the others home later.”

“Yeah. Will do.” Whitaker waved and Mel overenthusiastically waved back. Before anyone else could stop them, Langdon forced her though the door.

He didn’t drop his hands from her shoulders, although he craved to grab one of her hands instead. He couldn’t risk someone else seeing them though. Lowering his head again so that he was close to her ear, he spoke in a low voice.

“I didn’t take you for a handsy drunk.”

“Neither did I,” she admitted. “Is having drunk sex fun?”

He grinned, glancing around to make sure no one was near them. “We can have all the sober sex you want in the morning. You’re going to bed when we get home.”

Mel frowned so dramatically, it was almost comical. “Why?”

“Because you’re not going to throw up on me, honey.”

Langdon continued to carefully guide her towards his parked car, softly pressing lips to the top of her braid as he did so.

***

Mel whimpered.

“Quiet, baby.”

The words were nothing more than a breath against her temple. She nodded feverishly, pressing her face into Langdon’s neck. His skin was warm and familiar and Mel took in a steadying breath. Every nerve in her body was on fire. Whether it was from the fear of being caught or adrenaline because she was actually doing that at work, she wasn’t sure. A better assumption was that it was because of the hand shoved down the front of her pants, but Mel wasn’t an expert on such things.

Langdon’s hand twisted and Mel bit into her lip so painfully she thought she could taste blood. She felt the mouth on her temple turn into a smirk.

“We’re-we’re going to get caught,” she whispered into the crook of his neck. His response was to add a second finger without warning. Mel bit down again, the arm she had tight around his back squeezing him dangerously as the nails on her other hand scratched into the carboard box that she was half-sitting on. “Frank-.”

“No one is going to catch us.” She hated how calm he was. She hated that he was smooth, low voices and gentle strokes of his fingers while she was a whimpering, flustered mess. Mel would have said as much, but he crooked those fingers she hated so much and an embarrassing noise escaped from the back of her throat. “Well, they might if you keep doing that.”

Mel ripped her face from his neck, glowering up at him. The only source of light in the cramped supplies closet came from a single lightbulb in the center of the ceiling and even that was dimmed slightly. It prevented her from seeing the startling blue of his eyes, but it couldn’t mask the way his mouth was quirked in prideful triumph. She opened her mouth to retort it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t keep quiet, when he twisted his hand again.

Mel’s legs trembled and she hid her face again, pretending she couldn’t hear the throaty chuckle coming from Langdon.

“Just hurry,” she pleaded, in a pathetic whine. She tightened her hold on him, anchoring herself to the front of his scrubs. “Please, Frank.”

Mel was worried he might only continue to tease her, but her desperate words must have been too much for him. He shifted them slightly, forcing her to sit more securely on the box and his free hand moving to tangle itself in the root of her braid. There was no warning before his fingers picked up on her favorite rhythm; a rhythm that he’d discovered quickly into their first night together that made Mel nothing more than putty in his arms.

There were no more teasing grins. No more light touches. Langdon forced her mouth upwards, devouring her in a heated kiss that swallowed any and all noises that she couldn’t prevent. Her own fingers moved to the base of his neck, grabbing the loose strands of black hair that laid there and he groaned into her mouth.

The air around them was growing too hot. Mel could feels beads of sweat dotting her forehead and her glasses were sliding on her face. She couldn’t bring herself to care about any of it though; not with Langdon’s tongue in her mouth, swallowing her cries, and his fingers deep inside her. Nothing else mattered.

It wasn’t long before the coil low in her stomach was tightening. Her arms trembled. Warmth was flooding the lower half of her body. Langdon deepened their kiss, encouraging her on-

The doorknob rattled. Mel’s eyes flew open and Langdon ripped their mouths apart, his hand leaving her hair to snatch around her head and clamp tightly over her mouth. His leg out shot behind them, bracing against the door. To her horror, he kept the other moving between her legs.

“Sorry, hang on! I knocked some shit over.” Mel felt her eyes widen over his hand. His voice was the perfect mask of slight annoyance and whoever it was on the other side grumbled something. His fingers picked up the pace before he unceremoniously added a third. Mel cried out into his warm hand. “I know. It was this stupid shelf. I’ll have it moved in a minute.”

Mel thought she was going to die. The feeling of tightening warmth was spreading again. Her hips rocked, urging his hand deeper. There was nothing else, but them. Their hands, their mouths, the silent heated pleasure and Mel suddenly didn’t care who was on the other side of the door, because Langdon twisted his hand and pressed his thumb exactly where she needed it-.

The coil snapped. Had it not been for the hand clamped tightly around her mouth, Mel would have cried out. Tears sprung in her eyes. Their visitor must have left, because Langdon was whispering soft praises against her temple as she came down from her high. His hand left her mouth and he slowly withdrew his fingers from her center. She whimpered slightly at the loss and when she raised her gaze to his, that stupid smirk was back.

Mel flushed. “You look very proud of yourself.”

“I am.” He helped her down from the box, straightening her jacket and tucking her braid back neatly along her back. He grabbed her stethoscope from where it had fallen on the floor, gently swinging it around her neck. His lips pressed firmly against forehead. “I don’t think I’ve ever made you cry like that before. You okay?”

She nodded, raising up on her toes to press her lips quickly to his.  He smiled against her mouth, before she sidestepped him to quietly crack the door open. It didn’t seem like anyone was around them. “They were good tears.”

“Good.” Mel quickly stepped out of the closet, holding tightly onto her stethoscope. The small hallway they were in was an offshoot from the main part of the emergency room. She could hear the frenzied voices and buzzing of machines. Just as she was about to push through into the madness, Langdon’s hand lashed out, slapping her sharply on her backside. Mel jumped, her face reddening as he walked by her. He winked at her, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he walked backwards into the main part of the emergency department. “Maybe next time I’ll fuck you in there.”

The door shut behind him and Mel stood there, blinking.

***

“Mel-honey-stop.”

She ignored him, yanking his stethoscope and forcing his head down to her level for her to crush her mouth against his. For a moment, he gave in. She felt his mouth go slack and move in tandem with her own. His hands, which had been trying to hold her at bay lost their strength, loosening their hold on her wrists as their breath mixed.

For a moment, Mel thought she had won.

Langdon ripped his mouth from hers, his eyes moving wildly around them but no one else was in sight. Mel protested. She rose on her toes to meet him, but he angled his head away from her and snatched her wrists again. “Stop. You don’t want to do this here.”

Mel didn’t care. She didn’t care if they were in the staircase next to the very busy emergency room. She didn’t care that uncountable hospital personnel used that staircase every day. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything. She couldn’t breathe properly and her hands were shaking and there was nothing on her mind but digging her fingers into Langdon and holding him as close as their bodies would allow. Who cared if they were seen? Who cared that they were supposed to be working?

“I do,” she argued, her voice cracking. Her eyes were starting burn. She could see the effect it was having on Langdon; the way his entire face was nothing but hard lines and downcast eyes. Mel took advantage of his pity to rise sharply on her toes again, successfully capturing his mouth once more. Langdon’s grip tightened on her wrists and he pulled away from her. Mel almost sobbed. “You-you were almost gone-please just-.”

“I am right here, baby.” His breath was warm across her face. He still had a death grip on her wrists, but his wide eyes gave a quick look up the staircase. “I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears had started to fall. Mel couldn’t stop them. An ugly sob racked through her chest and Langdon fixated her with a pained expression, before dropping her wrists and yanking her to him. Mel twisted her fingers into the front of his scrubs as if it were the only thing keeping her upright, doing everything she could to swallow the sobs that’s kept trying to break through.

“I heard the gun go off and I saw you and-and I thought-.”

“I know. I know. Everything is okay though. I’m fine.”

Mel knew he was fine. It didn’t matter though, because for a few seconds, those absolute gut-wrenching seconds, Mel thought her world was crashing down.

 No one had even noticed the man stumble in from the ambulance bay. They were all too busy. It wasn’t until he started shouting; demanding to know why they hadn’t saved his son a week before that he got their attention. Security had started moving towards him and Langdon, who’d been the closest doctor, had raised his hands to him in what she knew was meant to be a calming motion. She could almost hear the low, calculated voice he would have used.

Mel had been across the room and could only watch in petrified horror as the stranger held a gun, aiming it directly at the man who shared her bed most nights. Mel thought she might have screamed. She wasn’t the only one. Robby yelled out. Dana shouted something. But the man had dropped and they realized the gun that had gone off wasn’t his, but the police officer who’d been chatting with security.

Mel had been on the verge of passing out since.

His hands moved from around her, to gently cupping either side of her face. Mel was forced to look upward, blinking at him with wet eyes. She kept her fingers tight on his front. “Listen, if the roles were reversed here, I know I would be losing my fucking mind, but I want you to breathe so we can get out this staircase. You were the one who wanted to keep this secret, and I don’t want it screwed up because of a single lapse in judgment, okay?”

Mel sniffled and nodded. He was right. He pressed his lips to her temple quickly, keeping his hands secured on her face. “I promise you can have the biggest existential crisis as soon as we get home-.”

The door to the emergency department opened behind them. Mel felt Langdon’s hands flex on either side of her face and his jaw tightened, but that was the only warning she got before his tone changed entirely.

“-I don’t know, Dr. King. I don’t see any bruising. Tilt your head the other way. Is there any tenderness there?”

Mel shook her head, allowing him to angle her face in different directions while he peered at her carefully. A few seconds later, Whitaker appeared beside Langdon, staring at her with open shock. She knew what he was seeing. Swollen eyes. Tear-stained cheeks and a senior resident examining her closely. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I tripped on the stairs,” she admitted, sniffling. “Can you not say anything? It’s already a little embarrassing Dr. Langdon saw.”

“Um, yeah, but are you sure you’re okay? If you got hurt at work, Dr. Robby is going to want you to get checked out.”

“Really, I’m fine.” She took a careful step back from Langdon and his hands dropped back down to his sides. Whitaker was still looking at her carefully, like he couldn’t tell if she were really in pain or not. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, Dr. Langdon that cop is looking for you.” He jerked his thumb towards the door to the emergency room. “He said something about getting a statement.”

“Great. I’ll be right there.” He motioned for Whitaker to go first and when Mel followed, there was a gentle brush of his knuckles against her hand.

Existential crisis later.

***

Langdon rubbed his eyes, before yanking his ball cap lower on his forehead.

He had a shopping basket hooked one arm, the other was drifting lazily on the skin in between the back of Mel’s joggers and her t-shirt while she examined the contents of the shelf. The first time he’d touched her like, casually and without much thought, she’d nearly jumped out of her skin. In fact, if he were remembering correctly, she broke a lamp. It was amazing how far they’d come in just a few months.

“Latex or latex free?”

“It doesn’t really matter, honey. Neither of us have a latex allergy.”

He rubbed his eyes again. It was late and they were facing a rare occurrence; they both had the next two days off. Becca was insistent on spending more nights at her center and Abby wasn’t bringing the kids over until the morning of the second day, so they were about to get the most uninterrupted alone time they’d ever had.

Langdon had been ready for it. They’d barely gotten through the door of his apartment before his hands were on her. On her everywhere that made her whimper and shake and when he’d finally gotten her into his bed and she was using that pleading whine that could make him do anything she asked and he reached into his nightstand to reveal the empty box of condoms-his night came crashing down.

Mel took a pill every morning, but it didn’t matter. She was scared of that 0.01% chance and Langdon cared too much about her peace of mind to point out the many other things they could do that result in zero accidental babies.

So, after a cold shower and a quick change of clothes, they found themselves at one of the big chain box stores that was way too bright for the time of night. Langdon had been prepared to grab whatever box he saw first and get her home as fast as possible, but Mel was way too intrigued by the amount of choices.

“What about these?” she squatted down, pulling out a purple box on the bottom shelf. “They’re grape flavored. Why would we want flavored ones?”

“We don’t.”

“Ooh and there’s cherry!”

“Mel, baby.” Langdon rubbed his hand over his eyes again. “You know I just want you happy, but we’ve been on this aisle for almost fifteen minutes. They’re just condoms.”

She was still squatting, now examining a box with flames on the side. “I’ve never bought condoms before. You always had them available, so this is all new to me. I’m just looking.”

Guilt twisted in his stomach. Sometimes he forgot how new Mel was to relationships. She’d confessed to him that first night he took her home that some idiot boy in her high school had tried to shove his tongue down her throat in the science club after school. That had been the extent of her physical relationship experience.

He was in his mid-thirties; a divorced dad and she had been a twenty-seven-year-old virgin.

It brought him an unmeasurable amount of pride knowing everything she experienced with him was for the first time. This was just another one of those moments.

“Get whatever weird ones you want to try. We’ll rank them.”

Mel looked up at him, beaming. There was that warmth in his chest again. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”  He squatted down next to her, ignoring the twinge in his back and looked at the box she was holding. “It’s supposed to leave a flame tattoo on my dick? Throw it in the basket. Grab the cherry ones too.”

Mel laughed, tossing in the red box. Langdon couldn’t squat anymore. The pain in his back was growing sharper, so he left the basket beside her and rose to his full height. They weren’t the only couple on the aisle anymore. On the farthest end, where they’d started over ten minutes, another woman was squatting as she pulled out a box. Langdon thought the knot of black hair on her neck looked familiar, but he couldn’t see her face very well. He looked to the man and for a single second, his heart stopped beating.

Jack Abbot was staring directly at him. He was wearing civilian clothes and recognition was written all over his features. Langdon eyes shot back down to the woman and realized with quiet shock that it was Mohan. She hadn’t noticed him. She was still examining whatever box she pulled from the shelf, but Langdon knew better than to say a word. He looked back at Jack and saw the doctors’ eyes were now on Mel. She’d risen, with her back towards the couple and was happily showing Langdon two more boxes she’d picked out.

Horror filled him.

“Those look really great, honey.” He swallowed, trying to mask anything unusual in his voice. “I think we’ve got enough to last the next year though.”

He ushered her to walk the other way, keeping her line of sight away from the other two. He and Jack locked eyes again. Langdon waited for the call out, for the accusations, prepared to do the same.

Jack nodded once. Langdon did the same.

It was a silent agreement.

Relief washed over him like a thick blanket. Langdon shoved his hand low on Mel’s back, guiding her quickly to the checkout, making a mental note to remind her not to upset Jack Abbot.

***

Mel was the closest one to the ambulance bay when the EMTs started wheeling in the gurneys. Her shift was over in fifteen minutes, but a call had come in about a big fight outside of a bar. No one quite knew yet what was going on; drugs, alcohol, a mental illness episode. It could have been a mix of all three. Two men had head injuries and Whitaker was already rushing to those, so Mel approached the third. Snapping her gloves into the place, she was listening to the EMT list his vitals; unconscious on the scene, good oxygen, a little high blood pressure.

Mel had just put her stethoscope to his chest when it happened.

She didn’t feel the pain. Pressure, sharp and fast, appeared in her chest and the breath was suddenly gone from her chest. The man had half-risen, coming to full consciousness in a distressed fury and one of his hands had lashed at her. Security ran forward and held the man down. There was shouting, but Mel heard none of it. There was a strange drumming in her ears.

She turned, wondering why her colleagues were staring at her in open horror. Was everyone just standing there, frozen for minutes on end or was her mind not processing things correctly? Was it only a second of them staring? Their faces blurry terror that she couldn’t make out? Frank registered in her mind first, looking at her from the opposite end of the emergency room, with unmeasurable fear etched on his features.

She’d never seen his face like that. She didn’t like it.

He shouted something, but she couldn’t hear it. Everyone was rushing to her. Mel felt something warm, like bath water, on her front and looked down to see her black scrubs damp and glistening in the blinding fluorescent lights. She wiped her fingers across it, and they came back to her, bright with blood.

Despite being on the other side of the room, Frank reached her first. He slid on the ground, catching her before her head crashed into the tiled floor.

All at once, everything crashed into her. The sounds. The pain. The panic. She’d never heard her name shouted so many times. Mel wanted to tell everyone that she was okay, she was alive, but her lungs weren’t working. Short, sharp breaths is all that her body would allow.

“Get her in trauma one now!”

“Who the fuck missed the knife in that guys hands?”

She was shifted and felt herself being carried. Blearily opening her eyes felt like too much work, but she did so anyway. Langdon was shouting again. At who, she had no idea. She really couldn’t make out what he was saying. Her head tilted as he carried her into trauma one and she saw the spot he had caught her on the floor. There was smeared, crimson blood. Too much of it.

She wondered vaguely if she were going into shock.

“Breathe, honey. Come on. Breathe.”

Mel was about to reprimand him for using her pet name in front of all their colleagues but thought against it. If she were going die, it didn’t really matter.

Die. She was going to die.

“Frank.” The words bubbled in her throat. A metallic taste filled her mouth. She was on the bed now. When did she get there? Someone had taken her glasses off her face. She felt her scrub top being cut away and the press of the ultrasound into her overheated flesh. Mel coughed, blood pooling out of the side of her mouth. “Frank, take Becca-.”

Black spots appeared in her vision. Opening her eyes was far too much effort now, so she let them fall closed.

“Mel, shut up. No one is taking Becca. You’re going to be fine.”

Liar. He was such a liar, but Mel didn’t have the energy to call him out on it.

“Frank,” she started again. “I’m so sorry.”

More bubbles of blood in her mouth. Gloved hands were on her face. His face loomed over hers, her brow dotted with sweat and his eyes wide. “Baby. Stop. Talking. Theres a hole in your lung.”

His hands left and she thought she heard him shout something again. Breathing was getting worse and her head felt too heavy. She knew exactly what was happening. Her blood wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Her chest cavity was filling up with blood. She may even be swallowing some of it. Too much and she would-.

Mel gagged once, before the wave of blood poured from her mouth.

More shouting.

She was even more tired.

There was far too much blood outside of her body.

“Langdon! Talk to her!”

She thought the voice might have been from Dr. Robby. He was always yelling at loved ones to talk to the family members that were hovering between life and death. It was supposed to give them something to hold on to.

Lips were on her forehead. Her temple. A hand tangled in her hair.

“Hey, Mel. You gotta stay here with me, okay?” The hand in her hair shook. “We were supposed to look at houses this weekend, remember? We gotta find a place with enough bedrooms for the kids and Becca. You can’t leave me with all three of them. We’ll burn the house down.”

The next words were spoken against her temple. “Penny has her dance recital this Friday. Remember when we saw the rehearsal? It wasn’t even dancing. They were just jumping around on the stage and that one kid was screaming in the corner. Abby was laughing so hard she was crying.”

There was crack in his voice and she thought she felt his forehead touching hers. “You’re not doing this Mel. I’m not doing this stuff alone, because you’re going to wake up when this is over. You called me a narcissistic asshole once. It was the first time you ever yelled me, right there in the parking garage. If you die on me baby, I’m going to be the biggest fucking asshole this world has ever seen so I really need you to get through this. You gotta wake up for me.”

Mel’s last thought before darkness swept over her, was how disappointed she was she didn’t look at his face one last time.

***

The sound of her coding was going to seared into his brain.

But that had been over an hour ago. Mel was stable and awaiting surgery. There weren’t any bed upstairs, so she was still in trauma one. Langdon hadn’t left her side. His arms were still covered in her dried blood and his scrubs were ruined, but he didn’t care. He would wait to get cleaned up until after surgery came for her.

He held one of her hands in his own, his forehead pressed against the metal railing of her bed.

The door to trauma one opened, but he didn’t raise his head. There was the scuffle of another stool being dragged over and he felt the shift of another figure beside him, but Langdon kept quiet.

“Surgery just called. They’re coming down for her any minute.” It was Robby. “You know, she’s going to be fine. We got her out of the danger zone and by this time tomorrow, she’ll be sitting up in bed and smiling.”

He knew that, but it still wasn’t going to erase the sight of her vomiting blood. Langdon shifted in his stool, grimacing.

“How’s your back?”

 He hated how Robby noticed everything, including how much he fucked up his back carrying Mel earlier.

“Relax,” he groaned, sitting up fully. He couldn’t look at Mel’s face; not with a tube down her throat, so he settled for staring at the hand he was just holding. “I’m not going to swipe any pills. Why are you still here? Your shift was over an hour.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Langdon swallowed thickly. “You know why I’m not leaving.”

Robby sighed and stretched beside him. There was a heavy silence between them, Robby uttered his next words. “How long?”

He didn’t need to ask him what he meant. “A couple months after I came back and don’t worry, I’ll file the paperwork with HR as soon as she’s awake.”

“That’s good to know, but I wasn’t worried about that.” Robby clapped a hand on his shoulder as he stood, stretching again on his way out the door. “You’re on the betting board. When it started, who started it, what names you use-it’s all a walking lawsuit, but I could use the extra cash.”

Langdon breathed a grin as the door shut behind Robby. He still couldn’t take his eyes off Mel’s hand.

A ring would look pretty nice there.