So I just found out that AAA winterfest was a thing, so in typical winterfest fashion I had to bang out a prompt after work.
Playing real fast and loose with prompt fulfillment, but this takes place in the detective au fic and it is "techincially" Agatha's and Rio's first christmas together. Be warned of smut
AO3 LINK Collection link
Day 1
Just Friends Winterfest 1
Summary: It's Agatha and Rios first christmas together.... kind of
Or
Rio fucks Agatha in the back of the precinct
~~~
Agatha leans back in her chair with a groan. The desks around her empty, everyone else having had the good sense to go home Christmas Eve. Not her. She was stuck at her desk reviewing, she squints at the paper in front of her, garden gnome theft? She tosses the paper back on her desk.
A waste of time is what it is. She considers, briefly, heading over to the break room, where she knows the other unlucky night shifters, rookies and people who pissed off their supervisor, would be. Someone brought in cookies earlier today and Johnson brought his "non alcoholic" eggnog. Convinced the chief it was fine 'cause it was a Martha Stewart recipe.
Sneaking a mug of that eggnog sounds appealing, but that would also mean talking to other people, and then answering the inevitable question, "Why are you here?" Because now that she's a detective she doesn't need to pull these weird hours, unless she's on a case. And she's not on a case.There really isn't any reason for her to be here.
But here is not home, and there's nothing waiting for her at home.
She pulls the garden gnome file back towards her.
Holidays were stupid anyways.
~~~
She's dosing when she feels a tingle at the back of her neck. A sense of unease washes over her and she cracks her eye open to survey the bullpen. There's a figure walking towards her, weaving through the desks with ease. Agatha scowls and closes her eyes.
The person sits on the edge of her desk, heedless of the papers scattered across it. Agatha keeps her eyes closed. Maybe they'll take a hint.
"What are you still doing here?"
Maybe they won't.
Agatha sighs and opens her eyes. Special Agent Rio Vidal sits before her, half smile on her face. She's not in her work clothes, not in the clean pressed suit and slick neat bun. Instead her hair is down, and she's in jeans and a soft cable knit sweater. Agatha resists the urge to straighten her own clothes. No amount of fixing would make her worn out jeans and wrinkled flannel reach the effortless put-togetherness that Rio exudes.
"Shouldn't you be on a train?" Agatha ignores the other woman's question. "Our case is over with."
"It got cancelled," she says with a shrug. "Too much snow on the tracks."
Agatha watches as Rio's eyes track the different papers and folders on her desk. There's a furrow between her brows. It's hardly noticeable, but it's always there when she's putting together pieces of a puzzle. Agatha fidgets, knee bouncing. She wonder's what Rio sees.
"These aren't active cases." She picks up one of the papers. "They aren't even assigned to you."
"Just felt like helping out is all," Agatha mumbles. She snatches the paper away from Rio, but she can tell the other woman is not satisfied. She can feel her gaze piercing into her soul while she tries to read over the case.
"You're all alone this Christmas aren't you." Rio says it in a sing songy voice, but it does nothing to dull the ache she feels inside. "No friends?" Agatha tenses. "No family?"
"Shut up." It comes out as a whisper.
"All alone in that big old house."
"Stop."
Rio hums, ignoring her. "What about your mother? Those church types sure do love Christmas Eve. I bet she would love to see her only daughter visit. You know, if her daughter wasn't a—."
"Fucking drop it," Agatha shouts. A head pops up from across the room and Agatha quickly lowers her voice. The damage was already done though. There is a self satisfied smirk on Rio's face as she looks down at her, and Agatha curses herself for falling for the bait.
Thought it isn't really her fault. Rio knows. And Rio knows better too. Agatha growls and stands up, chair rolling back to hit the desk behind her. She brushes past Rio roughly. "I'm going for a smoke."
"You're forgetting your coat," Rio calls out.
Agatha flips her middle finger not bothering to look back. She doesn't need a fucking coat.
~~~
She should've brought a fucking coat. It's snowing. Fat flakes fall from the sky covering the ground. She's huddled up by the door, the small alcove doing nothing to protect her from the cold. Technically speaking, she's not supposed to be smoking right next to the door, but technically speaking whoever made that law can go fuck themselves.
Her hands are shoved in her pockets while the cigarette dangles from her lips. The wind blows and cuts right through all of her one layer of clothing. Her thoughts drift, as it often seemed to do, towards Rio. It's reasonable this time, because she's the entire fucking reason she's out here. A dozen different responses of what she could've said to Rio but didn't flit through her head as she thinks over their conversation.
"What a fucking asshole," she grumbles, and then watches as the cigarette falls out of her mouth and into the snow below. "FUCK!"
~~~
Agatha takes her time walking back to her desk. The snow that had accumulated on her in her brief foray outside has melted and now instead of just cold, she's also wet. She thinks she might have a spear shirt in her desk, and would love to change into it, but she's also hesitant about seeing Rio again. Instead she loiters in the break room.
The cookies are gone, multicolored sprinkles on the countertop the only evidence that they were ever there. The eggnog is still there. It's in a crockpot, and Agatha eyes it warily. There's a weird skin on the top, and a mug lying sideways in it. It's red and green and Agatha carefully picks it up bringing with it a half of cup of the creamy liquid.
She pours it in to another cup, because she has standards, takes a sip, and gags. It's fucking disgusting. But it's got enough alcohol to quiet her thoughts, and it warms her up in more ways than one so she keeps drinking. She takes the cup and sinks down on the couch that sits at the back of the room.
~~~
She's got a pleasant buzz going. The mug is held loosely in her hands and her eyes are closed and she just breathes. She had already made one trip back to the eggnog, ignoring the slimy bits, because Johnson was focused more on the ABV instead of actually creating a palatable drink. The chief would probably be mad that she's drinking on the job, but the chief also never comes on Christmas Day so she thinks she clear.
Footsteps enter the room.
Agatha sighs. "Rio I swear to god—,"
"Oh there you are?"
Agatha cracks an eye open. Not Rio stands before her.
The cops some mousy Asian girl that just transferred over looks at her with a board expression on her face. Her hands are tucked into her vest and she raises an eyebrow at Agatha's mostly empty mug. "You're wanted in conference room Z," she says.
Agatha frowns. Conference room Z isn't really a conference room. It's just a glorified storage closet they found that someone put a card table in and someone else taped a printed sign to.
"What?"
"Dunno?" The cop shrugs and starts walking away. "Was just told to tell you that you were supposed to go to conference room Z."
Agatha has an inkling of who would be waiting for her there. If she was smart, she'd ignore the request and go back to her desk, or better yet go home. But unfortunately she has had just enough to drink to start the trek down the halls to the allusive conference room Z.
She opens the door harder than necessary, leaning against the door to see Rio sitting at the table, legs kicked up to rest on top of it. Rio's looks her up her down before pushing back from the table, planting her feet on the ground.
"Come here," she beckons, and Agatha does.
Agatha walks until she's standing between Rio's spread legs. Rio's hands come up to grasp her hips, and she looks up at her.
"Hi," Rio says, tongue poking out her mouth.
"Hi," Agatha says back, because know that she's standing there, she can't help but notice how brown Rio's eyes are. Has it always been that brown? Has she always looked that good?
Rio's hand sneaks up the front of her shirt and fists her collar pulling her down for a kiss. Agatha sinks into it, eyes fluttering closed as she leans into Rio. A whimper leaves her throat when Rio pulls back.
"You've been drinking?" Rio asks.
"Just a little." Agatha tries to push forward for another kiss but Rio holds her back.
"And on the job? Santa's not going to like that."
Agatha sits down on the other woman straddling her legs. "Santa Claus can go fuck himself." She grabs Rio's face with both hands and presses forward to try and steal another kiss. This time Rio lets her.
It feels like forever and also no time at all when Rio stands. Agatha squeaks, legs instinctively wrapping around the other woman. The room spins and she squeezes her eyes shut. "Rio, what the fuck?" she slurs.
She is just as quickly deposited on the small card table, and she's pushed down to lie on her back. Agatha stares at the ceiling trying to regain her bearings.
"You know how long I've been waiting for you?" Rio asks.
Her voice is low and her fingers are deftly undoing the buttons of Agatha's shirt. Agatha lays their motionless as Rio's hand ghosts across the bare skin of her stomach before pushing under the fabric of her sports bra. She bites her lips and stifles a moan as she grabs a handful of her flesh.
"Answer me." Rio pinches a nipple, and Agatha's back arches, a whine coming from her throat.
Agatha tries to focus but all she can feel is Rio's hands. They alternate between groping and kneading her breasts, and pinching and rolling her nipples. "Dunno," she manages to squeeze out.
Agatha's usually not this sensitive, and while alcohol does make her more horny than it usually does it doesn't usually have this effect. She feels like very sense has been dialed up to ten. Every breath, every touch, sends signals directly to her cunt. She can feel herself getting wet, slick dripping out of her.
You don't know?" Rio's voice is mocking, and she leans over licking a stripe up Agatha's stomach before latching on to her breast.
"Oh Fuck," Agatha shouts. Her hips try to buck, but Rio's on top of her holding her down. Her hands fly down to grab at Rio's head, but Rio quickly redirects them.
She pulls off of Agatha's chest, and the cold air surrounds her nipple. "Think I've got better use for that." She manipulates Agatha's hand, curling the fingers until there is two poking out. "Open your mouth baby," Rio says, and Agatha does, sucking in her own fingers.
"Good girl," Rio coos. "Don't want you getting too loud. Wouldn't want your coworkers finding you here. Moaning like a bitch in heat."
Agatha bites down on her fingers, the pain bringing the slightest bit of awareness to her situation. She's at work, technically on duty, and that door definitely does not lock. She tries to push herself up into a sitting position but Rio holds her down.
Rio's hand snakes down between their bodies teasing at the waist of her pants. "How wet do you think you'll." She cranes her head up to mouth at Agatha's neck. "I think you'll be soaked." Her hand slips into Agatha's jeans cupping lightly over her underwear. Agatha whines around her fingers, drool pooling in her mouth.
"You were always so desperate."
Rio doesn't move her hand. It rests there, gently cupping Agatha's mound and it is driving her insane. Agatha squirms underneath Rio, tries anything to get some friction where she needs it most. She's basically rutting into Rio's hand, but it does nothing.
"Rio," she gasps.
"Beg."
"Please, please, please." The shame has left her and the pleas leave her lips. Her hand has left her mouth and instead her spit covered digits hold on to her shirt. She's lying half naked on a shitty table in a glorified supply closet at her work. She's committed, at this point, to debasing herself. "Rio please touch me."
"Well since you asked so nicely." Her fingers move out of her pants and Agatha almost cries before they, along with her underwear are being pushed down to her knees. The plastic is cold beneath her butt, but Agatha can't find it in herself to care. Rio's fingers come up, tracing a path along her thigh, before finally coming to where she needs it most.
Yes, Agatha chants in her head, and also, apparently, out loud. Rio sinks in three fingers at once. There's no preparation, but there is no need because Agatha's soaked. She can feel it, and she can hear it. The squelch of Rio's fingers as they move inside her.
"Did you see how easily you took me." There's a hint of awe in Rio's voice. She twists her wrist drawing out a moan from Agatha. "You're such a fucking slut aren't you?"
"Yes," Agatha whines.
"You're my fucking slut."
"Yes. Yes. I'm yours." If she were sober would be embarrassed at the words falling out of her mouth. As it was, all she could think about was the cliff she was hurtling towards. If she were sober she'd also be embarrassed about that as well.
"Rio," she pants. Her breasts are bouncing and the table rocks from the force of Rio's thrusts. "I'm gonna come."
"No," Rio says sharply. "You can't." She speeds up the motion of her hand, and the other one comes down to rub at her clit.
Agatha feels like she's on fire. "I can't," she whimpers. She's tensing, trying to hold back. "Rio please. Please let me come."
"You want to be a good girl right?" Rio asks.
"Uh huh," she nods.
"Then you can hold out a little longer."
Agatha shakes her head. She can't. It's like her senses are in overdrive and suddenly everything is just too much. Her hand reaches blindly to grasp at the other woman. "Rio, I need… I need…" She doesn't know what she needs.
"Oh baby don't cry." Rio reaches up to touch her face, one hand cupping her cheek. Her hand is wet and sticky and Agatha clenches around nothing and she realizes that Rio stopped fucking her.
She feels devastated. "Rio please," she wails.
Rio adjusts herself so that her thigh is slotted between her legs. She presses up and Agatha bucks, groaning as her core rubs against denim. "Come on. Take what you need," she says, and Agatha does.
Her hips move on her own accord, rutting against Rio's leg in no discernible rhythm. Rio's speaking, random words of praise and degradation that go in one ear and out the other as she mindlessly seeks her pleasure.
"Come Agatha," Rio says.
And she does.
~~~
A bone seated weariness settles over her. She knows she must look a mess. She can feel the sweat dripping down her body, and her hair sticking to her face. Her legs dangle uselessly of the edge of the table, and she turns her head to look at Rio.
Rio's leaning against the door, legs crossed, looking not at all like she just fucked someone within an inch of the life. One hand rests on the doorknob, the other in her back pocket. She smiles, tongue poking out between her teeth.
Hey. It's my intersex agatha fic. 2K+ words, Multi Pov. It's got some grinding. It's got some fingering. It's got some internalized intersexphobia. the whole shebang.
AO3 Link
Summary:
They were drunk. That's the only explanation for why it happened. They had had a couple of beers, the alcohol dulling their minds, loosening their tongues. She had said things she didn't mean to say. Did things she didn't mean to do. It wouldn't happen again. It couldn't happen again.
~~~
She doesn't know why she said it. That she hadn't—. They were drinking, and talking, and doing what they did every Friday night. The subject shifted from safe topics like past cases to more risky topics like past flames. They were just talking. She never meant to say it. It just slipped out.
"What do you mean no one's ever touched you?"
It was an innocent question. And an expected one. After all, she wasn't a virgin, not really. She's slept around, had her fair share of flings, left her fair share of broken hearts. And Rio knew that. She'd been warned, when she first stepped into the precinct, about Agatha's proclivities. So it really shouldn't have come as a surprise, that when she had drunkenly said that she had never been touched by another woman, that Rio would question it.
But it did.
She could've deflected, made some joke about being stone, or not being interested. That was normal. There were people like that. It wouldn't be weird. She could've said any number of things to make Rio think she was fine and change the subject, but the words would not come. She gripped the neck of the beer bottle, eyes trained on the table in front of her.
It was a simple question. An easy question. It didn't mean anything. She swallowed.
Then why? Why couldn't she talk?
++++
"Agatha?" Rio watched the other woman carefully. "What do you mean?"
It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Rio watched as Agatha shrunk in on herself. Oh she tried to hide it, play it off, but Rio saw how her grip tightened on the bottle, and how her shoulders inched up to her ears, and how her leg started bouncing.
She could drop it, leave this thread unraveled and navigate to safer waters. It was clear that Agatha was uncomfortable with this line of questioning, even if she was the one who brought it up. She could be nice. Throw Agatha a bone. Let her have an easy out form the conversation. But she didn't get this far in life by playing nice.
Agatha lifted the bottle to her lips and took a swig. "It's nothing." she mumbled, and now Rio was curious. Because her hands shook and her eyes were glassy and it was quite obviously not nothing.
"Nothing is it?" she asked, and then she stood.
~~~~
Agatha watched out of the corner of her eye as Rio got out of her chair and walked over to her. She tensed. They had a routine, an unspoken code of conduct of how they were to behave around each other. At work, on a case, off the case, at her home.
Rio sat in the chair, Agatha the couch. They ate. They drank. They talked shit. Rinse and repeat.
But now Rio had left the chair and was on the couch, and while the couch was large enough to fit three, maybe four people, Rio sat right next to her.
Agatha's head buzzed.
She could feel the warmth of Rio's thigh as it pressed into the side of her leg, could smell the earthy scent of Rio's perfume. She held herself still, not moving a muscle as Rio settled in beside her.
Rio stretched her am across the back of the couch and crossed her legs. She looked smug. Agatha picked a the label of her bottle. "I just like fucking girls." She forced herself to lean back and relax into the couch. Her shoulder brushed against Rios. "It's my specialty."
You sound confident," Rio said.
Agatha smirked. They were drifting back into familiar territory. "No complaints. I come highly recommended." The response rolled off her tongue easily as she slipped into their familiar banter. Rio rolled her eyes, mouth opening to speak, but Agatha quickly cut her off, shoving a finger in her face. "And those girls weren't complaining about the sex. They were complaining that I didn't call them back."
Agatha waited for Rio's reaction, waited for her to scoff, push her hand away, call her a pig. Any number of things that she usually did when this came up.
Rio leaned forward. "Highly recommended?" she said, a predatory glint in her eyes. Agatha's smile faltered. "How about I find out for myself."
++++
Rio took Agatha's finger in her mouth, and watched as blue eyes grew wide, and her face turned rapidly red.
Rio wasn't an idiot. She knew she was attractive. She also knew that Agatha thought she was attractive. And while Agatha had toned down her initial flirtations after their disastrous first meeting, where she thought Rio was one of her exes, she didn't miss the way the other woman's eyes continued to roam her body when she thought no one was looking.
She swirled her tongue around Agatha's finger, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked lightly. She looked up at Agatha suppressing a smile. Agatha stared slack-jawed at the lips wrapped around her finger. She pulled off with a pop delighting in the small whimper it drew from the other woman.
Rio got on her knees, looming over Agatha. "All those women that come to the precinct." She placed her hand on Agatha's chest, pushing until the other woman fell on her back. Rio called over Agatha straddling her hips. "It's gotta be good if they keep coming back," she whispered.
Agatha was still under her, eyes flitting from her mouth, the ceiling, her eyes, and back again. One hand hovered over Rio's back, the other splayed against the couch. Indecision was writ all over her face. Her flannel lay open, the shirt she wore under bunched up showing off her stomach. Rio touched it feeling the way her stomach tensed and her breath hitched.
Agatha's eyes hardened and Rio could only manage a brief smile before the arm around her back tightened bringing them creasing into each other.
The kiss wasn't neat or soft or loving. Instead it was messy and rough and full of lust. Agatha kissed like a woman starved. Her tongue swept through her mouth, teeth bit at her lip. Her hands moved all over her body, groping her breasts, grabbing her ass, tangling in her hair.
Rio could feel the desperation in everyone of Agatha's moves. Rio felt herself grow wet. Agatha wanted her. No. Needed her.
They pulled apart gasping for air, and Agatha stared up at her, lips plump and wet, eyes half lidded.
~~~~
"Fuck I've been wanting to do that for forever." Agatha said.
Rio sat up and Agatha's hands immediately went to her waist stabilizing her. "Really?" Rio asked with a smile. "I hadn't noticed."
Agatha rolled her yes at Rio's teasing tone. "Shut up," she muttered.
Her hand slipped under the hem of Rio's shirt, brushing softly at the smooth skin of her waist. She didn't miss the sharp inhale that came from Rio's lips as she inched her hand higher.
She couldn't help but admire the other woman. The way her face was flushed, how her hair, which was usually in a bun, fell loosely around her shoulders. The way her head was thrown back, slight pants leaving her mouth as she rocked subtly in her hold. Agatha groaned, pressing her hand flat against Rio's stomach. She fiddled with the button of Rio's shirt.
"Can I?" she licked her lip. "I want to see."
Rio didn't answer, but her hands moved, unbuttoning her shirt. Agatha watched eagerly, mouth watering as each new sliver of skin was revealed.
Rio was still grinding, her hips moving rhythmically back and forth. Each movement had her pressing down on to the stiff stitching of Agatha's jeans sending a jolt straight to Agatha's core. Heat pooled low in her stomach and she squirmed trying to ignore it.
The last of Rio's buttons became undone and her shirt fell open to reveal a plain black bra. Agatha stared as Rio slowly slipped the shirt off letting it fall to the floor. She had seen her in a bra before, of course. Quick changes at work, or at the gym. It was only natural, but she never had the chance to fully appreciate her form.
Agatha reached up, one hand groping tentatively at Rio's breast. She squeezed softly, fingers slipping under the cup to pinch at Rio's nipple. She rolled it in her fingers, feeling it harden, hearing the soft moans fall from Rio's mouth. She took the other breast in her mouth, straining upwards to tongue at the fabric before pulling it out the way with her teeth. Above her Rio swore.
Rio planted her hands on either side of Agatha' head. Her hair fells curtaining her face. "Agatha," she groaned. "Please."
Agatha grinned and licked up and around the curve of Rio's breast. The salty taste of sweat fills her senses. "Please what?" She bit down, suckling a mark on Rios' skin. She doesn't wait for a response, drawing breathy noises from Rio as she continues to kiss, lick, make marks on Rio's chest.
Rio's chest grew wet, with sweat or spit, Agatha couldn't tell. She ran her fingers up and down Rio's sides skirting around each mark she made. "Agatha," Rio whined, and Agatha grinned. This is what she liked most, watching another woman fall apart because of her.
"Touch me," Rio gasped out. She started grinding harder, hips moving with more fervor.
Agatha brought her hand down hovering slightly above the front of Rio's pants. She unbuttoned them, pulling the zipper down slowly.
Rio growled, her eyes flashing. "Don't tease," she said and, without even stopping her movements, grabbed Agatha's hand and shoved it in her pants.
"Fuck," Agatha breathed. She stared in awe at the way her hand disappeared into Rio's pants, the bulge it create in the front. "You're so fucking wet." And Rio was. Wet heat engulfed Agatha's fingers. She could feel the ease at which Rio's folds slid against her as the other woman rutted into her hand. Agatha longed to flip her, bend her over and fuck her. Show Rio just what she could really do, but she remained paralyzed.
Rio ground down on Agatha's hand, and in turn Agatha could feel her hand press down on her own clit. Even through the layers of fabric Agatha couldn't help but jolt with every roll of Rio's hips. It was wrong, bad, and she tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on the woman before her, the way she moved, the way her breasts swung back and forth.
Rio had a death grip on her arms. Her movements became shorter and choppier, her breaths coming out in high pitched little gasps. She was close, and Agatha focused on that, urging her on. "C'mon," Agatha whispered. She twitched her fingers, slipping them inside Rio's cunt. Her thumb traveled upwards moving though Rio's slick, until it found the sensitive bundle of nerves that would guarantee her coming undone. She pressed down. "Cum Rio."
+++
Rio didn't quite black out, but it felt like she came close. She lay slumped over Agatha, letting the aftershocks of her orgasm roll through her. Agatha pulled her fingers out and Rio whined as Agatha's hand brushed her clit coming out. Fuck, no wonder those girls kept coming back.
"I can see why you're so confident," she whispered into Agatha's neck.
Agatha chuckled and Rio frowned pushing herself up to look down at the other woman. Agatha looked smug. She brought her hand up, the one still covered in Rio's juices, to her mouth and sucked. Her eyes fluttered, and a low moan coming from her throat.
Rio grinned. "Do I taste good baby?" she leaned down lips ghosting over Agatha's. Agatha nodded. She pressed her lips against Agatha's. "Why don't I have a taste."
Rio slipped her tongue into Agatha's mouth tasting the salty musk of her arousal. Agatha bucked beneath her, hands scrambling to hold on to her hips. Rio ground down shivering at the sensitivity in her clit. "You made me feel so good," she said between kisses. She pressed more of her weight onto Agatha quickly undoing the button and zipper of her jeans. She slipped her hand underneath Agatha's shirt and palmed her breasts kneading it through the woman's sports bra. Agatha whimpered "Now let me return the favor." She shoved her hand down the other woman's pants. "Show you how good it feels."
Agatha was wet. She could feel the dampness of her boxers when she palmed the others cunt. Agatha's hand grabbed her arm and Rio leaned forward trapping her arm between their bodies. She kissed her again swallowing Agatha's soft whine of "Rio" as she pushed up against Rio's hand.
Rio pressed her palm against Agatha's clit circling once before freezing. A prominent bulge rested against her hand. Not large enough to be a penis, but still larger then normal. Tentatively she pressed against it again, Agatha jerking underneath her. "Are you wearing a pack—."
Rio's back hit the floor. Her arm stung where it hit the table, knocking over the drinks that were on it. Her head throbbed, and the puddle of spilled beer slowly crept up her back. She could feel a familiar anger rise through her. "Agatha what the hell was that for?"
Agatha sat pressed into the corner of the couch, eyes watery with unshed tears. "Get the fuck out." She growled.
Instantly Rio deflated, concern rapidly overtaking the initial feelings of anger. "What? Agatha are you okay?"
She reached forward and Agatha flinched back. "Don't touch me. Get the fuck out."
"Agatha talk to me." Rio had seen Agatha in all sorts of moods, angry, tired, sad. She's seen her run into a fight outgunned and out-manned, and seen her laugh about it in the hospital later. She's never seen her like this. "What's wrong?"
"Out!" Agatha shouted.
She grabbed Rio's shirt and threw it at her. Rio stumbled back as Agatha advanced on her pushing her to the direction of the door. She was shaking. Her face was pale, sweat beaded at her temples, her eye were glassy. "Agatha—,"
"Don't." Agatha pulled at her hair, mumbling something too quiet for Rio to hear. "Just leave Rio." Her voice cracked.
They were at the door. Agatha pushed passed her, head down and opened the door. Rio noted with despair, she looked small. Rio pulled on her shirt grimacing at the way it stuck to her wet back. She stepped out into the night. "Agatha. Can you just tell me—." The door slammed shut in her face.
Rio stared blankly at the closed door in front of her.
I live in an alternate reality where AAA Week is still going on. This is the full story other Day 5 snippet I had posted earlier.
Fully reposted because apparently some tags just make your post disappear entirely
@agathaallalongweek
AO3 LINK
Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5
This story contains no smut, but it does have some non sexual submission(i suspect this tag and kneeling got the og post done in). I apologize in advance for this fic being more Agatha focused lol
JUST FRIENDS 5
Summary:
Rio gets hurt, Agatha feels guilty, they work some things out.
~~~
They've been in this position for what feels like hours. Rio, stretched out on the couch. Agatha, kneeling before her like a sinner at the altar.
Her knees hurt. The floor is hard and unforgiving, and Agatha wants to shift, to move, but she doesn't. She keeps her head bowed, hands clasped in front of her, grasping Rio's shirt, face pressed into Rio's side.
Rio's hand is on her head. Her fingers brush through her hair, nails scratching lightly at her scalp. It's a soothing repetitive motion. The TV is on in the background. The sounds of David, Attenborough or Tennant, she does not know, narrating the movements of migratory birds wash over her. She ignores it, instead focusing on Rio.
She focuses on the way her shirt feels in her hands, rough and worn with love and care. The way her skin smells, earthy with the hint of hospital antiseptic. The way her breath sounds, soft and slightly labored.
She presses her face closer, because she needs to be closer, and Rio's breath hitches and her hand tightens, pulling sharply at her hair.
"The chief called." Rio's voice is low and gravelly. It breaks through the silence of the room like a gunshot. "Said you were causing trouble. Punched a suspect."
Agatha doesn't move, doesn't look up, doesn't face Rio. She gives a half shrug and lets out a grunt of acknowledgment. Acknowledgement of what? She does not know.
Rio sighs. "You can't be goin' around doing that. You're lucky he just sent you home." She resumes stroking her hair, fingers carefully navigating tangles. Too soft. Too kind.
"You almost died," Agatha mumbles. She rocks, head pushing into Rio's hand. "You almost died."
"I didn't though," Rio says. "I didn't die. I didn't even come close."
"But I didn't know that," Agatha says, begs, trying to get her to understand. "I didn't know that, and I should've known and I should've been there and you shouldn't have had to make that choice and—," her voice cracks.
Rio takes risks. Rio always takes risks. She knows this. And sure, it's like the pot calling the kettle black 'cause she also takes risks—sometimes even dumber ones than Rio—but it's different because it's Rio and— and—.
And there's a pain at the base of her skull.
"Look at me." Rio is pulling at her hair, fingers entangled in her strands, and Agatha tilts her head back, a whine escaping her throat. "This is not your fault."
"But—," and Rio's other hand comes forward, grasping her chin, cutting her off.
"This is not your fault," she says. Her thumb comes and presses lightly against Agatha's lips, and Agatha opens her mouth accepting it inside. "There's nothing you could have done."
And deep down Agatha knows that Rio is right. That it isn't her fault. That there was nothing she could do. That sometimes shit happens. That—.
"Get up."
Agatha startles, pulled out of her spiraling thoughts by the command. Rio is staring at her, a small frown on her face.
"I'm not going to ask again." Rio's thumb is still in her mouth, and she presses upwards, forcing Agatha to rise until her thumb slides out with a wet pop.
Agatha rocks. Her hands clench the hem of her shirt and she looks down at Rio on the couch. It's worse, standing, than it is kneeling. She can't avoid it, can't close her eyes and pretend nothing happened. She has to see. See the bruises on her face, the bandages on her arms, the boot on her foot.
Rio looks small.
Fragile.
Broken.
Snap.
Agatha blinks. Rio's hand is in front of her face. Her mouth is moving.
"—me the bag of rice."
Agatha tilts her head. Rio is staring at her expectantly and she knows she has to do something, she just doesn't know what.
Rio reaches up and Agatha leans forward. Rio grabs a lock of Agatha's hair and tugs sharply. "Stay focused." She lets go. "Go to the kitchen and bring me the bag of rice."
Agatha hesitates, because now she knows exactly what Rio wants to do.
Rio points towards the kitchen. "Get the rice or you can get out."
And that gets Agatha going, feet moving before she can think of any argument to delay the inevitable.
It's only when she makes it to the kitchen that Agatha slows down.
She can hear Rio moving around in the other room. The clack of her crutch, the scrape of the table.
Agatha desperately wants to turn around, to go back and help Rio with whatever she was trying to do, but she can't.
The bag of rice feels like a lead weight in her arms.
They never really talked about it, the thing that they sometimes do. She's sure there's a name for it. There's a name for everything.
Maybe it means her mom was right. There is something wrong with her. Normal people don't act that way, don't want the things she wants. But Rio doesn't seem to care.
She doesn't know what that means.
"Agatha come."
She steps across the threshold. The coffee table has been moved forward, the rug pushed out the way. Rio is standing, leaning heavily on her crutch. Agatha's fingers twitch. She wants to help her, tell her to sit down, assure her that she doesn't have to do anything.
Rio holds out her hand and Agatha places the bag of rice on it obediently. Rio is silent as she opens the bag and pours the rice on the ground.
It's an old school punishment. One her own mother favored when she was too lazy to choose a more traditional form of punishment.
Rio doesn't like it. Doesn't like the fact that Agatha defaults to a punishment that her mother used. But she does it anyway.
There's a notebook on the table. And a pen. And Rio's neat and blocky script at the top of the page.
That's also an old school punishment.
Rio doesn't like that either. Doesn't like the fact that Agatha will always use her right hand when copying lines. Because using your left hand is a sin. She has the scars to prove it.
Agatha takes off her pants, standing only in her boxers. Rio doesn't ask her to do it, but she knows the routine. She knows how it works. She folds them neatly and places them on the arm of the couch.
Rio sits, one leg stretched out in front of her, the other holding her crutch. "Those are the lines you're going to write," she says pointing at the notebook on the table. "You will kneel and you will write and you will not stop until I say you are done."
Agatha goes to the ground slowly. She kneels, the rice pressing into her knees. Her left hand goes behind her back, her right picks up the pen. She doesn't rest her butt on her heels, doesn't redistribute her weight. She has to hunch awkwardly to reach the table.
The rice digs into her skin. All her weight is on her knees, the pain magnified each time she moves. There is no way to get in a comfortable position, to relieve the pressure. She knows that by the end of this her knees will be raw and bruised. That is her penance.
Agatha brings the notebook closer to her. To write is to correct her wrongs.
I did nothing wrong. There was nothing I could do. It is not my fault.
Agatha looks back at Rio. This isn't right. She opens her mouth but Rio cuts her off.
"I choose what you write," Rio says sharply and Agatha flinches at the intensity of her words. She uses her crutch to tap the notebook on the table. "You're writing this."
Agatha turns back to the paper
I did nothing wrong. There was nothing I could do. It is not my fault.
She begins to write. The first sentence is torturous. This is not how it works. You aren't supposed to lie.
*I did nothing wrong. There was nothing I could do. It is not my fault. *
She focuses on her letters, making them as neat as possible. She writes in script. It's harder than print, she can't remember all the right shapes the letters make, but if Rio won't do things properly…
I did nothing wrong. There was nothing I could do. It is not my fault.
Her hand cramps, but she doesn't stop. She presses her knees further into the ground. The pain grounds her.
I did nothing wrong. There was noth—
Agatha stops mid sentence, pen awkwardly held in her hand. Her eyes trace the words on the page, and then she flips it to the previous one, and then the one before that. The sentences repeat themselves, over and over again all in the messy scrawl that comes from trying to write with her right hand.
There's a sharp pain at the back of her head, and Agatha lets herself be pulled backwards by her hair until she's sitting on the ground between Rio's legs. Rice sticks to her knees, some falling off, but she doesn't brush them away, not yet.
Rio is looking down at her. "You with me?"
Agatha doesn't respond, but Rio gives a tentative half smile, and her body relaxes, so she must have given something away. Rio repositions herself, pulling her leg up to lay back down on the couch. She drops a pillow down, and Agatha takes it, sitting cross legged on top of it.
"You done overthinking?" Rio says. One hand is behind her head, the other hangs off the couch lazily running through Agatha's hair.
"Shut up," Agatha grumbles, but a smile creeps on her face anyways.
She can't help but wonder, what did she do to get a friend like her?
Oh? AAA week is over? I must not have gotten the memo. Let me go get my time machine.
@agathaallalongweek
AO3 LINK
Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4
This story contains smut
JUST FRIENDS 4
Summary:
Agatha has to attend an FBI seminar. Of course the instructor in charge has to be that asshole Special Agent Rio Vidal
~~~
Agatha trudged up the cracked and worn steps that led to Windsor Hall. The old building—A part of Westview University's pitifully underfunded campus—loomed over her. She felt like she was walking into hell.
It was summer, so the campus was mostly empty. It was nice, in that she didn't have to push her way through a bunch of newly turned adults, but as one of the few people wandering around the place it made her stand out.
"Hi, are you here for the seminar?" Agatha grimaced as a cheerful and bubbly voice echoed through the empty room. A woman was sat at a table with a welcome banner and several pamphlets and badges strewn across it. She looked directly at Agatha, a practiced smile fixed on her face.
"If you can give me your name I can get you checked in." She was young, blonde, and probably getting extra credit for some class for being here. Agatha scanned the table skipping over pamphlets about how to join the FBI until she found her badge among the few that still remained.
AGATHA HARKNESS was printed in large bold letters, and in smaller print underneath "Detective Westview PD". A green sticker was plastered on the corner. She picked it up and flashed it at the woman before shoving it in her pocket.
The woman's smile faltered and she shook her head. She began typing something on her tablet. "Okay Ms. Harkness—,"
"Detective."
"Detective Harkness." Smooth recovery. "Green means you'll be with group 3. Their session is taking place in room 2101. You can take the stairs and there should be signs directing you where to go."
Agatha grunted in reply and shuffled off in the direction the woman pointed.
It was clear where she had to go, the signs the woman mentioned were large and visible, but Agatha found herself lagging behind wandering down other halls.
The building was nothing special. Cream colored walls and patterned linoleum tiles that created a depressing atmosphere. The odd light flickered every once in a while, some out entirely.
It looked exactly how it did when she first stepped into the building 15 years ago. Back when she was young and full of ambition and dreams.
Back when she worked two jobs and for her G.E.D and saved every penny she had so she could prove her mother and teachers and everyone else who doubted her wrong. Back when after a year and a half she slunk home with her tail between her legs because they were right.
She wasn't smart enough. She wasn't good enough. She wasn't—. Agatha stopped in front of a door. The numbers 2101 were plated by the wall, yellowing white plastic on blue. There were people inside. She could hear the voices, see the slight movement of a person through the frosted glass of the viewport.
Agatha looked at her watch. 9:13. She was late, but she already knew that. She rocked on her heels. The door at the front was the only entrance to the room. There was absolutely no way she would be able to sneak in unnoticed.
She had half a mind just turn around and forget the whole thing. She had her name tag. That proved she checked in. The Chief didn't have to know that she didn't actually attend the class.
Agatha let her head fall against the wall. He'd find out, somehow. He was always there when she fucked up, lurking right around the corner ready to spout some bullshit about potential and being better. Bastard probably even knew she was late.
9:28.
She just wasted 15 minutes loitering in the hall. Fifteen minutes that could be used doing what? Sitting in class? It was all a waste of time anyways, the whole thing a charade so that the FBI can show off how much better they are than the locals.
She cursed the Chief out in her head. It wasn't fair that she had to be here. She knew how to do her job. She was good at it, and she got results, and she didn't need no FBI agent telling her otherwise. This wasn't about training. This was a fucking punishment because she wouldn't play nice with the suits.
9:33
Agatha didn't know how long these sessions were supposed to be, but she figured that enough time had passed that she shouldn't even bother trying to go into the room. She sat on the floor, legs splayed in front of her. Each minute she stayed was another strike against her. She wouldn't get suspended, at least she didn't think she would. But after that shit show that was the joint case with the FBI
~~~
Agatha definitely did not flinch at the sound of a door being slammed open, and she definitely did not wipe any drool from her face as she pulled herself into a sitting position.
She rested her arms on her knees and watched as people began pouring out of the classroom. She recognized some of them, people she's worked cases with, or seen at city wide events. They walked out carrying notebooks and backpacks talking about whatever lesson their teacher gave. They moved around her like a swarm. She was practically invisible to them.
They moved past her, disappearing down the hall until the place was empty. Agatha could hear movement in the room, and listened as a lone set of footsteps neared closer before stopping right in front of her.
Agatha's eyes trailed up the figure before her. Shiny black shoes, up to tight black slacks. Tight black slacks, up to pressed white shirt. Pressed white shirt up to gap toothed smirk. Gap toothed sm—. Agatha felt a familiar surge of anger rush through her. She stood up quickly, coming toe to toe with the woman before her. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing,"
Rio, Special Agent Vidal said. She tilted her head to the side and Agatha resisted the urge to fidget under her gaze. Vidal's eyes trailed down her body and Agatha flushed knowing what she'd see. Dirty boots, wrinkled shirt, frizzy hair. The exact opposite of Vidal, clean, neat, put together.
"Weren't you supposed to be in class?" Vidal said.
Agatha just barely managed to keep the shocked look off her face. Of course Vidal would know why she's here. "What are you, the hall monitor?" Agatha was fully aware that her anger vitriol was wholly inappropriate for the situation at hand, but she had always been quick to anger, thinking about consequences later.
Vidal didn't fall for the bait. "You know they gave me an attendance list," she said. "Shows every person who is supposed to be in my group. Even got a special request from the Chief." Agatha felt her stomach drop as Vidal stepped closer, backing her against the wall. "Told me to keep a special eye on a little someone."
Agatha didn't respond. She didn't know what to say. Vidal's words were pretty much proof that her department was waiting for her to mess up.
Something inscrutable passed across Vidal's face. It was brief, and disappeared before Agatha could figure out what it was.
"Come with me," Vidal said. She walked back in the room. "Let's see if we can work things out.
~~~
"You know," Vidal said. She was leaning against the blackboard, arms crossed, chalk held loosely in her hand. They had already talked about what Agatha should do to stay out of trouble; show up to class, do her work, the obvious shit that she was already trying to do. Agatha was sitting slouched at one of the desks, legs stretched out in front of her. She chewed on her fingernail, eyes tracking Vidal as she moved across the room.
"I never repaid you for excellent work in the alley." She grinned, sultry and wicked.
Agatha jolted, knee smacking the underside of the desk, face rapidly turning red. The alley.
As much as she tried, and she tried, she could not get that interaction out of her head.
Their first meeting. Back when Vidal was just another girl at the club instead of the Special Agent that stole her case. She spent nights curled in bed, hand guiltily shoved between her legs, trying not to make a sound.
Vidal came closer until she was leaning over Agatha, trapping her at the desk.
"You were so good for me," Vidal said softly. Her hand trailed down Agatha's front stopping at the top of her pants. Her fingers fiddled with the button, undoing it. "So pretty, on your knees." She slid her hand down, bypassing her underwear all together to cup at Agatha's cunt.
It was awkward. The desk was small and hand was shoved against the seat of the chair, and Agatha slouched, spreading her legs trying to give the Agent more access.
She didn't know whether to curse or rejoice at the fact that she chose to wear one of her more baggier jeans today. Vidal pressed harshly against her clit, and Agatha bucked, hips rising off the chair for just long enough for Vidal to yank at her pants.
Agatha's ass hit the warm plastic of the chair and she stared at Vidal through half lidded eyes. How did she get the upper hand so quickly?
Vidal leaned down, capturing her lips in a rough kiss. Her fingers slipped lower swiping through her folds drawing out a low whine from Agatha's mouth. "Now it's time for me to take care of you."
Vidal pushed a finger in, her digit sinking deeper and deeper until her palm hit Agatha's mound. Agatha gasped squirming as Vidal started moving her hand. She shoved at her pants pushing them down from where they sat bunched at her thighs so that they pooled at her ankles. She spread her legs trying desperately to give Vidal more access.
It was embarrassing how wet she was. How quickly Vidal took control. With barely a touch she had she had unraveled her. With barely a touch she had left her whining like a dog in heat.
In a fit of rage? Desperation? Agatha surged upwards capturing Vidal's lips in a kiss. It was messy, their heads knocked, teeth clicked, and Agatha grinned.
She nipped at Vidal's lip, capturing her flesh between her teeth. She tugged at Vidal's hair, pulling her head back baring her neck. She—.
"Fuckin Ow,"Agatha shouted. Her hand flew down to her pussy, and she curled in on herself, still throbbing from where Vidal pinched her clit.
Vidal brought her hand, still glistening with Agatha's juices, up to her face, sticking her fingers in her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked and Agatha felt slick drip out at the sight. What was wrong with her?
"Now seems like a good time to go over the rules," Vidal said. She reached down and grasped Agatha's chin, spit and arousal costing her face.
"Rules?" Agatha said dumbly.
"Yes," Vidal said. "Rules."
She reached forward grabbing Agatha's shirt pulling her out of the chair. Agatha let out a yelp of surprise as she felt herself get flipped and slammed down on the desk. She scrabbled, hands going to push herself up, but Vidal's arm on the middle of her back kept her down.
Vidal shoved two fingers in her, pumping them in and out rapidly. "This class is a week long," she said conversationally. As if she was not destroying her with every thrust. "And you need to be on your best behavior if you don't want me talking to your Chief."
Agatha clutched the sides of the desk, body rocking with every drive of Vidal's fingers. "I— We already talked." She struggled to get the words out. Vidal spanked her, hand colliding harshly against her cheek, driving her clit into the side of the desk.
"And now we're going to talk about it again," Vidal said. "What was the first rule?"
"First rule?" Agatha panted, mouth hanging open. "First rule. Come— ah— come to class."
"Good girl," Vidal rewarded her with a curl of her fingers that had Agatha seeing stars. "What's the second rule?"
A line of drool dripped from her mouth onto the table. Agatha rolled her hips, rutting against the table. "B— be on time," she stuttered. "More."
"You want more?" The grin in Vidal's voice was clear. "Do you deserve more?"
"Yes, yes, please," Agatha blubbered. "I've been good. Please."
Vidal teased adding a third finger before pulling away, laughing at the despair in Agatha's resulting moan. "Let's if you deserve it. What's the last rule?"
Agatha thought back to their earlier conversation. She tried to recall what it was Vidal had wanted but all she could focus on was the feeling of Vidal's fingers in her cunt. "I dunno," she wailed.
"You don't know?" Vidal asked. She added another finger, increasing her speed. The table started rocking against the floor. "How about I tell you. You're. Going. To. Behave. Agatha." She punctuated each word with a slap to Agatha's ass.
"You're going to behave. None of that passive aggressive shit you did on the case." Vidal spanked Agatha again as she twisted her fingers inside her pussy.
"You're going to come to class everyday. You're going to be on time. And you're not going to give me any reason to call your Chief."
"Do you understand?"
Vidal stopped all movements holding her hand still. Agatha cried out. No, no. She was so close. "I said, do you understand?"
"I understand. I understand. I understand," Agatha slurred. Her hips shifted, trying to drive the fingers please but the other woman pulled them away. "Rio please," Agatha begged, the other woman's name falling from her mouth.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm gonna show up, and I'm going to be on time, and I'm going to be good. I promise."
Vidal smiled. "Good girl." She brought her hand back, shoving two fingers roughly into Agatha. A low moan left Agatha's throat as she rutted faster, clit dragging across the table. She could feel herself getting close. Her hips stuttered, an irregular rhythm forming.
"Come for me," Vidal whispered.
Agatha came. Vidal's words hit a primal part of her brain. The part that would do anything for the woman. Heat spread through her, every nerve ending alight. Her body shook and her legs trembled. Her pussy clenched around Vidal's fingers, her coming in low pants as Vidal fucked her through her orgasm.
Agatha slumped bonelessly against the table, Vidal's hand the only thing keeping her off the floor. Vidal pulled her fingers out slowly drawing a tortured whine from Agatha.
"Look at you," she cooed. "Big bad detective all fucked out." She wiped her slick covered hand on Agatha's cheek and stepped back. An unreadable look crossed her face.
"You have 30 minutes before you have to be in the auditorium for the welcoming speech."
Agatha turned her head and watched as Vidal walked to her desk pulling out a set of wipes. She tossed them in Agatha's direction, and they landed on the floor next to her pooled jeans and puddle of cum.
"Clean yourself up. I'll lock the door to make sure no one comes in." Vidal grabbed her bag, swinging it over her shoulder. "Oh, and Agatha," Vidal gave a wicked grin "Don't be late."
Had this random idea for an Omega!Agatha fic and banged this out over the weekend.
AO3 Link
Summary:
Four times Agatha purred around the company.
~~~
"Billy," Alice says. "You're blocking the stairs. What the hell are you doing?"
Billy stands, not quite in the doorway of the living room, but pressed up against the side of it. He doesn't look at her, instead reaching back blindly to grab her arm.
"Come here," he hisses. He peers around the corner. "Look, but be careful."
Alice rolls her eyes and steps around him, easily dodging his attempts to grab her and pull her back. She stands in the doorway, hands in her pocket staring into the room the coven first met all that time ago.
She sighs. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"
Billy pulls an alarmed face and makes a series of increasingly confusing hand gestures.
It takes a lot of willpower for her not to say what's on her mind. She steps further into the room. Something about Billy's demeanor has her moving quietly, taking extra care not to let her combat boots sound on the floor. She hears Billy swear softly, and then the soft pad of his sneakers as he follows her.
She makes her way slowly around the perimeter of the room until she sees her.
Agatha.
Agatha is laid out on the couch, the top of her head just visible over the arm rest. She's got a book propped up against her leg, one hand running along the words, the other hangs off the side of the couch lazily petting Señor Scratchy.
She stares longer until she realizes that's all she's doing. Alice stifles a groan. There is absolutely nothing unusual or special about this scene. She turns to Billy to say as much when he shushes her again bringing a finger to her lips. "Listen," he whispers.
She pauses tilting her head trying to figure out what he's talking about. She's about to tell him off for wasting her time when she hears it. It's soft, barely audible over the ambient noise of the house, but it's clear what it is.
Purring.
She nearly gives herself whiplash spinning around in disbelief.
Agatha Harkness is purring.
"Can you believe it," Billy is almost vibrating in excitement. "I've never seen one do it before. I thought it was a myth."
"It's not a myth," Alice says, equally as excited because she also had never encountered it. "It's just extremely rare."
"Do you think she knows she's doing it?" Billy asks softly.
Alice looks at Billy. "What?"
"Like, do you think they can control it? Can they do it on purpose."
"I don't know," Alice shrugs. "But I heard they only do it when they feel safe."
They look at each other, the implication of her words hanging heavily between them
The purring stops and they look up to see Agatha peering at them from over the couch. "What are you two doing?"
They both straighten up. "Nothing." "Just hanging around."
Agatha's eyes narrow. "Right," she says slowly. "Well if you're doing nothing then you can go do nothing somewhere else. You're disturbing Señor Scratchy."
Señor Scratchy snuffles, completely unaware of the proceedings around him.
"Shoo." A bolt of purple shoots out hitting the ground in front of their feet and they quickly vacate the room.
~~~
It's not often that witches get sick. Their immune system is naturally stronger than a regular humans, and what that doesn't fight off, magic does the rest. So it isn't often that a witch gets sick, but when they do, they're hit hard.
Jen's alone at the house. The House, being Agatha's house that became the de facto Coven House when everyone decided it would be way more convenient to move in, much to Agatha's chagrin. They still had their own homes of course, which Agatha never tired of pointing out, but most of them found their way to The House more often than not.
It was rare for the house to be totally unoccupied, but with the rest of the Coven different trips, Billy out with the Kaplans, Lilia visiting her home land, Alice at some concert where they screamed more than they sang, Agatha who knows where, Jen was not going to let this opportunity go to waste.
Jen balances a bowl of ice cream in one hand and a bottle of wine that was hidden behind 3 Agatha made hexes in the other. The bag of cookies that she told Teen were missing is clenched between her teeth, and she, with her gathered contraband, heads towards the living room.
She makes it halfway to the couch when she registers that it's not empty. A lump resides there and Jen has her suspicions as to who it is.
"Agatha?" Jen calls.
"Waddya want," Agatha mumbles and Jen winces because nobody's voice should sound like that.
She takes in the woman curled on the couch. Her hair is plastered to her face, cheeks red, eyes glassy. "Are you sick?"
"No." Then she lets out a cough that sounds like it belongs more to someone suffering from the plague than someone who is not sick.
"Yeah okay." Jen drops the bag of cookies on the ground and carefully puts the bottle of wine and bowl of ice cream on the table. She crouches down and puts her hand on Agatha's forehead, ignoring how the other woman shrinks back.
"'M fine." She bats weakly at Jen's hand.
Agatha is not fine, and Jen sighs, mind going to what potions she can brew that can make this thing pass faster.
"You are not fine." Jen grabs Agatha's arm and hauls her up, stumbling a bit when the woman refuses to support her own weight. "You need medicine and a real bed."
Agatha mumbles something incomprehensible, head lolling to the side. Jen shakes her head. Yeah. Her weekend was fucked.
Jen half walks, half drags Agatha out of the room. Agatha was short and more hindrance than help and it isn't until they got to the staircase that Agatha started fighting back, digging her heels into the ground refusing to move.
"Agatha please," Jen begs. She does not have the time or patience to deal with Agatha's antics. "I cannot carry your heavy ass up these stairs."
Agatha makes a whining noise and Jen let's go because it's so soft and so omega and Agatha has never made a noise like that before. As soon as Jen lets go Agatha stumbles forward. She catches herself on the banister and then moves past that to the door on the side of the stairs.
A door that Jen can't recall ever seeing before.
It was plain and simple and nestled underneath the staircase in a spot that should have definitely been visible the numerous times she's been in the house.
The door opened as soon as Agatha touched it revealing a small room that resembled that old, and inaccurate, movie of that boy wizard. It was lit magically, a soft pink glow coming from everywhere and nowhere. The floor was carpeted and was filled with pillows and blankets and—.
"Is that my fucking shirt," Jen exclaims. She bends down and picks it up. It was her shirt. Silk, expensive, top of the line. "I've been looking for this everywhere. You fucking asshole. You said you didn't know what happened to it. Why is it— oh…"
Jen trails off as she takes in the room. The beanbag, the blanket, the several articles of clothing from the various coven members. Everything soft and familiar. She swallows, something unidentifiable rising in her chest. This was a nest.
This was Agatha Harkness's nest.
She watches as Agatha curls up on the beanbag pulling what she knows is Rio's shirt close to her face. Jen feels. Jen doesn't know what she feels. She knows omegas have nests, so logically speaking Agatha Harkness would have a nest, but… but Agatha was unlike any omega she's ever known.
Jen rubs the fine silk of her shirt between her fingers. It was her favorite shirt. But the fact that it was chosen for a nest means … Jen groans and tosses the shirt back on the ground. "Alright Agatha. I'm going to get you something to make you feel better. Please don't magic away the door or whatever."
She doesn't wait for Agatha to acknowledge her before stepping out the room. She's got a set stash of potions for simple things like nausea, pain, magical depletion. There's nothing to cure whatever magical illness Agatha managed to catch, but there is stuff that would help lessen the symptoms.
She grabs a bottle and is relieved to find that the door to Agatha's nest is still present and visible. She heads in already opening the bottle the potion is stored in.
"Alright Agatha, I'm back. I brought you something that should help with the—." She stops staring in disbelief.
First, because Agatha has swapped Rio's shirt for hers and is now drooling on her silk 500$ shirt, that fucker.
But second, she's purring.
Agatha opens one eye to look at her before raising her hands and making a grabbing motion. "Gimme."
Jen gives it to her slowly, her brain on a constant loop of 'what the hell is going on'. Agatha drinks the potion in one go, none of her usual snarky complaints and jabs at Jen's brews present.
She takes the empty bottle from Agatha watching as she tries to get comfortable among the stuff she accumulated. Jen turns to leave and hand shoots out grabbing her ankle.
"Stay?"Agatha's voice is slurred, the potion already taking effect. Jen hesitates. She had plans for the weekend. Wine and ice cream awaits her outside. But omegas don't often invite others into their nests.
Agatha stares up at her with unfocused eyes, and Jen feels herself fold.
She nods. "I'll stay." She sits down gingerly leaning against the beanbag. Agatha wastes no time curling into her.
Bit by bit she begins to relax the sound of Agatha's purring luring her into sleep.
If she gets sick from this she's going to be pissed.
~~~ Nightmares aren't uncommon among The Coven. Most of them have lived long enough to experience horrors to last multiple lifetimes. The road took care of the rest.
They all had their own ways of coping, dealing with the way their mind turned against them. Billy would rope some unsuspecting victim into hanging out with him, they'd sit quietly as he explained the latest tiktak gossip and pretend not to notice the way his hand shakes.
Alice had her music. The soft melodic notes of her acoustic guitar echoing hauntingly around the house.
Jen baked, which surprised everyone, but they learned not to question the smell of cookies at 3 o'clock in the morning.
Lilia. She made tea. It was a habit that started all those years ago when she was a child. Back when she still had her family, and her original coven, and her Maestra who she would run to when she could not make sense of her visions. Her Maestra would make her a cup of tea and hold her while she cried and listened to her while she tried to explain what she saw.
Her coven. Her Maestra. They were long gone, but the habit still remained.
Lilia didn't have a nightmare tonight, didn't drown in dreams that could be memories, that could be visions, but she was up regardless. She moves around the coven's kitchen, taking care to keep quiet as she gathers what she needs.
The kettle goes on the stove, silencing spell around it. Saucer taken from the cabinet and biscuits from the pantry. She takes out two cups, instead of her customary one. She gets the feeling sometimes, that she's up, not because of her own nightmares, but because of someone else's.
The kettle is starting to steam when she hears the creak of the floor boards behind her.
She turns, only faltering for a bit when she sees who is behind her.
Agatha Harkness.
Nobody knows what Agatha does when she has nightmares. When, not if, because even though they have no evidence, someone with a history as long and bloody as hers does not escape unscathed.
Agatha's wearing an oversized band shirt that she recognizes as Alice's, and cartoon boxer shorts that she recognizes as Rio's. Her hair is mussed and frizzy, and her eyes are red and puffy, and her arms are wrapped around herself as she looks anywhere but at the witch in front of her.
Lilia registers all this in a second and takes it in stride. "Would you like to join me for tea?"
Agatha doesn't speak, but she shuffles forward, bare feet against wood floor, and takes a seat at one of the chairs by the table. Lilia pushes the packet of biscuits towards the other woman and sets about preparing their tea.
Lilia doesn't speak. She doesn't ask Agatha if she's okay, or if she wants to talk. She simply slides a cup towards the younger witch, murmuring a quick "chamomile", and takes her own seat at the table. She knows that sometimes the best comfort is just having someone there.
She sips her tea, looks out the window, and watches as the night passes. Then she hears it. It's quiet, barely registering above the hum of the refrigerator, but the sound is unmistakable.
Slowly Lilia turns and looks at Agatha. She's not sleep, not quite, but she's close to it. The woman rests on the table, head nestled in her arms. Her eyes are closed, the tea half drunk. There are crumbs from the biscuit on her face. And from her chest emanates a sound that she hasn't heard in centuries.
An omegas purr.
~~~
They have movie night once a month. It was Teens idea because of course it was Teens idea. Him always bringing up things to make them a 'real' coven. Like Coven dinners that have to happen on a night that's separate from movie night even though everyone would already be at the house.
She'd be fine with it if it didn't have to always be at her place. Everyone else had homes. There was no reason everyone had to keep gathering at hers.
She can hear everyone in the living room discussing what movie they want to watch. It shouldn't even be an argument. They had a rotating schedule with her having the last say, but that rota fell apart and her veto powers got vetoed so now she doesn't even get a say in what they watch.
Agatha pours the last of the popcorn (stove popped, she has standards) into the remaining bowl, and then, balancing the two other bowls filled with popcorn, enters the other room.
"Alright you freeloaders," she says, dropping one of the bowls in Teen's lap. "Hurry up and pick a movie. I don't have all day."
"Don't pretend like you don't enjoy being here," Alice says, taking the other bowl of popcorn from her.
"Yeah," Jen laughs. "We know you love us," and Agatha makes a face 'cause ew.
"Did all those potion fumes melt your brain," Agatha snarks back. "The only thing I love about you is when you're gone."
"There's no shame in admitting you care," Lilia says.
"I'm going to say this one time and one time only. I don't care about any of you. You all are pests that invaded my home."
"Then why are you purring?" The room falls silent, and Rio steps into view still dressed in her death outfit. She walks over her clothes rippling and changing into sweats and a t-shirt.
"I'm not—," Agatha freezes, eyes widening. Because now that it has been brought to her attention she can feel it. The low rumbling in her chest, the floatyness of her body, and the fact that she cannot. Make. It. Stop.
They're all looking at her with smiles on their faces and an arm wraps around her shoulder pulling her into the cold embrace of death. "You're not what?" Rio says in her ear.
Agatha's face burns. "Fuck off." She elbows Rio in the stomach, extracting herself from her hold. She drops the last bowl of popcorn on the table and backs away. Fuck the couch, she doesn't want to be near those fuckers. Instead she folds herself into the loveseat and pulls the hood of her hoodie over her head.
"Wait, are you wearing the hoodie I got you for your totally not birthday?" Billy shouts.
"No—."
"Yes she is," Jen interrupts. "And she's wearing the glasses I got her."
"And she's wearing my socks." Alice is grinning.
She ducks her head further into the hoodie pulling her feet under her. Because yes, she's wearing the socks Alice got her because they were soft and comfortable, and she's wearing the glasses Jen gave her because she couldn't find her other ones, and the only reason she's wearing Teen's hoodie is because it was the first thing she grabbed from the closet.
Rio squeezes into the seat with Agatha, and to her absolute mortification her purring gets louder. "Face the facts cariño. You like them."
"Alright, alright. That's enough," Lilia says. Agatha shoots her a thankful look. "We all know that Agatha loves us." The fucking traitor.
What do you mean it's not AAA Week? @agathaallalongweek
Posting this little draft of the Day 5 prompts in hopes that it gets me off my ass to finish it, as well as give me some inspo in how to finish it lol.
The prompt is "Rio gets Injured", and this is more the aftermath of her mysterious workplace caused injury. Agatha is pretty broken up about what happened, while Rio is pretty chill cuz "it's all in a days work."
Without further ado
~~~
They've been in this position for what feels like hours. Rio, stretched out on the couch. Agatha, kneeling before her like a sinner before the altar.
Her knees hurt. The floor is hard and unforgiving, and Agatha wants to shift, to move, but she doesn't. She keeps her head bowed, hands clasped in front of her, grasping Rio's shirt, face pressed into Rio's side.
Rio's hand is on her head. Her fingers brush through her hair, nails scratching lightly at her scalp. It's a soothing repetitive motion. The TV is on in the background. The sounds of David, Attenborough or Tennant, she does not know, narrating the movements of migratory birds wash over her. She ignores it, instead focusing on Rio.
She focuses on the way her shirt feels in her hands, rough and worn with love and care. The way her skin smells, earthy with the hint of hospital antiseptic. The way her breath sounds, soft and slightly labored.
She presses her face closer, because she needs to be closer, and Rio's breath hitches and her hand tightens, pulling sharply at her hair.
"The chief called." Rio's voice is low and gravelly. It breaks through the silence of the room like a gunshot. "Said you were causing trouble. Punched a suspect."
Agatha doesn't move, doesn't look up, doesn't face Rio. She gives a half shrug and lets out a grunt of acknowledgment. Acknowledgement of what? She does not know.
Rio sighs. "You can't be goin' around doing that. You're lucky he just sent you home." She resumes stroking her hair, fingers carefully navigating tangles. Too soft. Too kind.
"You almost died," Agatha mumbles. She rocks, head pushing into Rio's hand. "You almost died."
"I didn't though," Rio says. "I didn't die. I didn't even come close.""But I didn't know that," Agatha says, begs, trying to get her to understand. "I didn't know that, and I should've known and I should've been there and you shouldn't have had to make that choice and—," her voice cracks.
Rio takes risks. Rio always takes risks. She knows this. And sure, it's like the pot calling the kettle black 'cause she also takes risks—sometimes even dumber ones than Rio—but it's different because it's Rio and— and—.
And there's a pain at the base of her skull.
"Look at me." Rio is pulling at her hair, fingers entangled in her strands, and Agatha tilts her head back, a whine escaping her throat. "This is not your fault."
"But—," and Rio's other hand comes forward, grasping her chin, cutting her off.
"This is not your fault," she says. Her thumb comes and presses lightly against Agatha's lips, and Agatha opens her mouth accepting them inside. "There's nothing you could have done."
I just had this idea bouncing around in my head of Agatha being intersex and having internalized shame (transphobia? intersexism?) around it
Being intersex isn't wrong or bad, but the characters in this story aren't really educated on the topic and, in the case of Agatha, have been made to feel that being intersex is not a good thing.
~~~
Vidal doesn't know how exactly the conversation turned to this. Sex. their first times. How it felt.
They were drunk. Empty beer bottles littered the floor around them. It wasn't uncommon to find them this way. What was once a one time thing during a stressful case became a near weekly activity when both their schedules aligned.
She'd provide the pizza, or whatever dish they'd feel like eating, and Agatha would provide the beer.
They would sit and talk, watch a movie, and generally shoot the shit for hours on end. Until it got so late that Agatha would offer up her guest bedroom, or, if they forgot themselves, they would fall asleep on the couch, limbs tangled together. One of them would always wake up and leave before the other.
They never talked about it.
They did talk. They talked about everything and nothing. They talked about old cases, old jobs, old friends… old flames. Not sex though.
Vidal knew, of course, that Agatha wasn't exactly 'normal'.
It wasn't something that Agatha had shared willingly.
It was through glassy eyes and panicked breaths. Agatha backed in the corner of the couch, excuses and apologies falling from her lips
Vidal had gone from straddling the other woman's lap to landing on the floor in a blink of an eye.
The sweet haze of arousal that had swirled between the moments earlier was replaced by the stank stench of fear.
Vidal could do nothing but watch as Agatha drew away and curled in on herself pressed into the corner of the couch.
The normally bold and brash detective resembled more a scared child. Blue eyes large and filled with tears as a litany of 'sorries' and 'bad' and 'wrong' fell from her mouth.
Agatha, as Vidal had soon came to learn, after she coaxed her down from her panic, was intersex.
Agatha and Rio go to costume night at the bar Witches Road. They also have sex.
~~~
"Are you ready yet?" Agatha hangs on to the door frame, leaning as far into the bedroom she can get without actually stepping in. "We're going to be late."
"Be patient," Rio's voice echoes from its location in the bathroom. "And get out of my room. I told you to wait on the couch."
"I'm not in your room," she shouts back. "Christ, makes a whole big deal about how I gotta get here early and she's still getting dressed." She mumbles this part under her breath, because as annoyed as she is right now, she does not want to go through that lecture again.
She swings by the kitchen on the way to the couch and grabs a beer before sinking into the couch with a sigh.
The Witches Road was having their costume night and Rio insisted on Agatha coming over and getting ready at her place. It was a stupid idea, considering that Rio's place was further from the bar than Agatha's, but Rio insisted.
Agatha adjusts her costume, 'costume' being the plastic teeth that she had in her mouth. She was going as a vampire. Easiest costume ever. All she had to do was to put fangs in. Agatha smirks into her drink. She has the best ideas.
"Rio," Agatha calls. "Jen's texting asking where we are. What's taking so long?"
"Alright, alright. I'm ready." Rio steps out. "How do I look?"Agatha freezes, bottle half way through her mouth. How does she look?
Agatha's eyes rake over Rio's body. Her curled hair, her shadowed eyes, the black lipstick. The way the corset of her dress pushes her chest up and the way the red bleeds through the black lace. She looks as the dress hugs her tight in all the right places and flares out, loose and flowy, where it needs to.
"Sneakers?" She says, pretending like she didn't just get caught ogling with her mouth open.
Rio smirks, but mercifully does not comment on it. "Heels aren't good for dancing," she says.
Agatha hums. "What are you even supposed to be?"
Rio steps forward, and Agatha spreads her legs allowing the other woman to stand between them. "Well since you're a vampire," Rio leans in, giving Agatha an excellent view of her cleavage. "I figured I'd be the innocent maiden you try to turn."
Her hands bracket Agatha's head trapping her on the couch. Agatha tips her head back keeping eye contact. She definitely does not note that Rio isn't wearing a bra.
Agatha's tongue darts out to lick her lips. "Aren't vampires supposed to go after virgins?"
"Some do." Rio gets on the couch, her knee slotting perfectly in the space between Agatha's legs. Agatha's hands fly up to grab Rio's hips, a groan leaving her mouth. "But my blood is special. You wouldn't be able to resist it."
"Wouldn't I?" Her voice comes out as a rasp.
Rio shakes her head. "You'd do anything to get a taste." Her knee presses harder into Agatha's clit. "Big bad vampire on her knees for me."
"Fuck, Rio."
"Would you do anything for me?"
"Anything," Agatha breathes.
"Well then—." A phone buzzes and they freeze. "Uber's here," Rio chirps. She gets off the couch and grabs her bag, and Agatha can only stare slack jawed as she walks away, like they weren't just rutting like teenagers on the couch.
"Hurry up," Rio tosses a teasing smile. "Don't want to be late."
"Yeah, yeah," Agatha grumbles. She winces as she stands, finishing her drink and leaving the empty bottle on the table.
Her pants are sticky.
~~~
"Chicken tenders?" Agatha raises an eye at the large basket that sat in the middle of the table. "What are you five?"
Rio sticks out her tongue and grabs the drinks from Agatha's hands. "Sorry that not all of us can survive on alcohol and cigarettes."
Agatha flashes her fangs. "Tonight I'm surviving off of the alcoholic blood of virgins tonight."
A chorus of jeers and a french fry are thrown her way. "Oh my god that's disgusting." "You suck." "I can't believe you're such a fucking loser."
"You didn't even dress up," Jen says. She takes a sip of her drink, some fruity cocktail that Agatha knows from experience contains more alcohol than juice, and waves a hand at Agatha's costume. "You're wearing your normal clothes."
"And my normal clothes make me an incredibly hot vampire," Agatha brags. "You're just jealous because you're stuck going home with miss terminator over here." She jerks her thumb over at Alice who grins and pulls Jen onto her lap. "And why am I getting singled out for not trying. She's literally wearing her police uniform."
"Hey first of all, I'm T-1000. And second, don't discount my bullet holes. I worked hard on those." Alice fingers the crumpled foil she pinned to the front of her uniform. "And please. We all know you're going to go home with Rio anyways."
"You two should just grow up and start dating each other."It's the same conversation, same song and dance that always comes up when their schedules manage to align. Agatha knows what to say, what she should say, but for some reason her brain short circuits. "I– I don't.. We're not–," she stutters.
"We're just friends." Rio cuts her off.
She looks over at Rio. There's a slight frown on her face as she picks at her food dipping fries halfheartedly in mustard. Agatha opens her mouth to say something, anything, but the moment passes and the conversation moves on.
~~~
Agatha doesn't quite recall how she got onto the dance floor. Hours had passed. The bar had turned into a club and the party was in full swing. Lights pulsed, sweaty bodies pressed in around her, and the bass from the music reverberated through her bones.
The songs playing were older. She remembered them from her time she'd spent at clubs when she was younger. Recession pop they call it now. She's got a drink in her hand, Jen's probably, on the account of it tasting like straight vodka.
She's got a girl in front of her. She's pretty, from what she can tell. The girl has short brown hair and is wearing an even shorter mini skirt. Agatha holds on to her hip as they dance. She thinks that if she plays her cards right she could probably go home with this girl. She presses up against the other woman, formulating a plan. She's got a couple of foolproof pickup lines in her repertoire.
She leans forward to say something when the collar of her shirt grows tight. An embarrassingly high squeak comes from her mouth before her back collides with a body and an arm wraps around her chest.
The girl she was dancing with turns around, anger sparking in her eyes. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she shouts. Her eyes are focused above Agatha's head.
"I could ask you the same thing."
Agatha looks up and has to suppress a smile. Rio is not happy. Her brow is pinched and her lips are pursed and she stares the woman down. Agatha sinks into Rio's hold.
"Find your own girl to dance with." She reaches out and her fingers brush Agatha's sleeve, but Rio steps back.
She tightens her hold. "You should leave."
The woman falters before shifting to address Agatha. "Are you really going to let her do this?"
Agatha shrugs, a guilty look on her face. She would.
"What a bitch," Rio mutters when she walks away.
"Ya know," Agatha says, maneuvering them so that she's the one behind Rio. "You could've just asked."
"I know."
~~~
Agatha holds Rio close. It's taking all of her effort not to as the other grinds against her. Instead she sways to the beat letting the music do what her buzzed mind can't.
Sweat is glistening on both their bodies, and Agatha rests her chin on Rio's shoulder. "Would you let me?" she whispers. "If I were actually a vampire."
Rio leans back. "Let you do what?"
"Bite you." Agatha grazes Rio's neck with her teeth, tasting the salt on her skin. A quiet whimper falls from Rio's mouth. Her hand snakes around Rio's waist and she pulls her close. "I bet you'd taste really good."
Agatha thrusts her hips into Rio to make a point, and she wishes, not for the first time, that she had worn her packer tonight. She rolls her palm into Rio, pressing the fabric of her dress in between her legs. Rio would feel it, she's sure, if she positioned it right. And she'd feel it too. Feel how it would rub against her clit when Rio grinds back on it.
Rio grabs her arm, nails digging into the skin. "Stop."
Agatha freezes. A rush of heat floods through her body and she realizes she was practically dry humping Rio in the middle of the dance floor. Not practically. She was.
"Fuck. Rio I'm sorry. I–." She stumbles as Rio pulls her away.
"Let's go."
~~~
They bypass their original booth and end up in a corner at the back of the bar. The lights are broken, some flickering, others off entirely. It's the publicly known, but also publicly ignored section of the bar.
Rio slides in a miraculously empty booth. Agatha makes to go in after but is stopped by Rio's hand pressing into her chest. She raises an eyebrow questioningly.
Rio points at the floor. "Down."
Agatha glances around. It doesn't look like anyone is paying attention to them, but still. She's no stranger to kinky stuff, and her and Rio have had their fair share of risky trysts over the years, but this wasn't a bathroom stall or river by the woods. This was public.
Rio steps up and pulls her into a kiss, and Agatha melts into it. It's sloppy. It's their first kiss all night. They're both drunk, and horny and Agatha had never been the neatest kisser to begin with. Rio breaks their kiss, and Agatha chases, nipping at her skin, trying to get more.
She feels Rio's hands thread through her hair, holding her back. Rio stares at her, and Agatha knows that her want and desperation is probably written all over her face. But Rio's isn't unaffected either. Rio's face is flushed, lips plump, and her eyes are full of desire as she looks down at her. "You'll be under the table. No one will see." Rio whispers against her mouth. "You wanted to taste me right?"
Agatha nods numbly.
"Then be a good girl and go down."
Rio reaches out and places her hand on Agatha's shoulder, and she sinks to her knees. The floor isn't clean. Dirt, crumbs, and spilled alcohol litter the ground, but she ignores it, eyes focused only on Rio. She crawls forward, as Rio backs into the booth, and she keeps crawling until she's fully under the table.
Agatha crawls until she's right in front of Rio, and then she sits, resting her head on the other woman's thigh. She'd be fired, or at least written up, if anyone caught her like this, and that thought alone is enough to make her realize the risk of the situation, but before she can do anything a hand shoots out and grabs her hair.
Rio spreads her legs, hiking her dress up. She tugs on Agatha's hair, and Agatha moans, eyes fluttering as Rio guides her head up and closer to her goal. Rio is turned on. She can already tell. The musky scent of Rio's arousal invades her senses and Agatha surges forward nuzzling at the thin barrier of fabric that separates her from Rio.
Agatha mouths at Rio's cunt drawing a moan from the other woman. She can taste the salt and sweat from Rio's skin mixed in with the slight tang of Rio's slick. She presses in further, nose rubbing against Rio's clit.
Rio moans. It's loud, louder than the music playing in the club and Agatha's cunt clenches at the sound. It's not enough. She wants… no she needs more. She reaches up, nails scratching against Rio's thighs but Rio slaps them away. "No hands."
Agatha places her hands on either side of Rio and grabs the edge of Rio's underwear with her teeth. They're soaked, a lot from Rio's arousal, but Agatha knows that most is from her own spit.
Rio lifts her hips. "Take them off."
Agatha pulls. She drags them over Rio's thighs and down her legs until they drop and pool at her ankles. She licks a line up Rio's leg, chasing the taste of her juices until she arrives at the source.
Her mouth waters. Normally she'd wait, take her time to fully admire and appreciate the body before her, but she's impatient. She dives back in tongue immediately sinking into Rio's pussy. She laps like a dog starved, gathering up all Rio's accumulated arousal on her tongue.
"How do I taste baby?" Rio pants. Agatha moans and digs in with more fervor.
She tastes like heaven.
Agatha continues to lick, dipping her tongue into the other woman. Rio's moans are soft, barely audible over the music, but her hips buck and with each pass of her tongue more wetness spills out.
Agatha can feel herself getting wet, and she resists the urge to reach down and touch herself. Instead she focuses her attention upward. She takes Rio's clit in her mouth and sucks.
Rio's nails scratch her scalp, and Agatha knows that Rio's close. She redoubles her efforts alternating between sucking her clit and tonguing her cunt until finally Rio comes with a shout. Agatha tries to push away, because there is no way nobody heard that but Rio holds her close. She grinds her hips into Agatha's face, slick gushing out with each hump as she rides out her orgasm. "You're mine," she grunts. "You understand?"
Agatha nods as much as she's able to.
She's hers.
~~~
"Oh there you are."
Agatha stiffens. Alice. She tries to get up but a hand on her head shoves her back down.
"Where's Agatha?"
She never did actually move after getting Rio off, even though she was desperately horny herself. She stayed on the floor, face sticky with Rio's juices, leaning against her leg. Rio herself had been content to sit there, hand absentmindedly stroking her hair.
"Don't know," Rio says. The grip on her hair tightens. A warning. "Think she went out back for a smoke."
"Oh." She moves closer, and Agatha can see her boots come into view.
"You want to sit down?" Rio asks. Agatha eyes the area warily. The booth isn't large, and while it may fit Alice if she decides to sit down, there isn't enough space under the table if Jen decides to join.
She tries to move, push herself close to the wall, but Rio holds on tight. Agatha grabs onto her arm and works at prying her fingers off, cuz fuck her if she gets caught like this.
"I'm pretty sure our other table has already been claimed." She shifts and Agatha freezes. Rio's foot presses into her cunt, and she moves it slowly.
"Nah Jen and I were gonna head out. Figured I let you know."
"Where is Jen?" Rio asks. Her foot moves in the same circular motion, providing steady pressure. Agatha bites her lip, trying to suppress the whine coming out of her throat.
"Bathroom," Alice leans against the table. "Or the bar. She said two drinks ago she was done for the night."
Agatha drops her head down and clutches Rio's leg. Her hips are moving now, pressing her core on the top of Rio's foot. She wants to stop, she should stop, but she can't. The conversation continues on above her, Rio and Alice talking about something. She doesn't care.
A tendril of guilt curls in her chest with each rush of slick that spills into her underwear. She's on the floor of a seedy bar rutting like a dog onto her friend's shoe after eating her out. It's fucking embarrassing, demeaning, and yet…
It comes as a surprise. Her hips stutter, and she bites, her fake canines pinching into Rio's leg. The pain in her head is sharp as Rio yanks her up by her hair.
A face comes into view. "Did you just fucking come?"
Agatha flushes and pushes away, falling back when Rio lets go of her hair. "Fuck off." It sounds much less dignified when her hips are still rocking, riding out the rest of her orgasm.
Rio laughs. "I barely even touched you."
"I said shut up," she growls. She crawls out from under the table. She pulls at her crotch, wincing at the feeling of the wet fabric. She jumps and swats at Rio's hand as the other reaches out to feel.
"Holy shit you're soaked." Rio says, then with a grin. "Did that turn you on that much?"
"No." Yes. She's not going to think about it.
"Which part?" Rio hums. "Was it rutting against my foot like a puppy in heat or the fact Alice was right there and could find you anytime."
Agatha clenches the hem of her shirt. "None of it."
Rio stands and stretches looking way more put together for someone who had just been eaten out. "If you say so." She pulls Agatha in for a kiss before pushing her away. "Te veo."
2 for 2. Didn't think I would bang out two fics in two days, but here we are.
@agathaallalongweek
AO3 Link Here
Day 1 Day 2 Day 3
Just Friends 2
Summary:
Of course she'll go with Rio to the work event. That's what a good friend does. Wait...? Girlfriend?
or
Agatha is tricked into attending a work event with one Rio Vidal
~ ~ ~
"No." Agatha easily side steps Rio and heads towards the kitchen. The soft click of Rio's heels sound as she follows her.
"Agatha please." There's a whine to her voice. Usually Agatha would take advantage of it, tease her a little bit, but she was not in the mood.
"I said no. I'm not doing it." Agatha opens the fridge. It's well stocked, unlike her own, and home cooked meals sit neatly in different containers. She doesn't care about those. She squats and pushes past all the fruity healthy drinks until she sees what she wants. Beer. It's Modelo. Not her drink of choice, but it was Rio's turn to host their weekly get togethers, and it was the last one in the fridge.
Rio takes the drink from her hands before she can take a sip. "It's just for tonight," She says. She takes a swig of the drink. "Just a couple of hours. That's all I ask."
Agatha eyes the other woman. Was she ready to debase herself trying to get it back? Rio was only slightly taller than her, but the black heels she wore accentuated their height difference. Rio was already dressed. Dark green button up tucked into form fitting black slacks. A gold watch and chain adorned her wrist and throat. She toed the line between sexy and professional easily.
"Please? My job is on the line here." She waves the bottle in front of Agatha's face. "If you say yes, I'll let you finish this off."
Agatha feels her face get hot. "Can you not find anybody else to go with you?"
Rio steps closer, bracketing Agatha against the refrigerator. "I don't want anyone else," she pouts. "I want you."
~ ~ ~
Agatha pulls at the collar of her shirt. She was wearing pants, a button up, and tie that all fit her perfectly because of course Rio knew she was coming from the start. Her hair, which was almost always in some ponytail or braid, hung loosely in the natural curls that her mother always hated.
"Stop fidgeting," Rio reaches over and slaps her hand away, fixing her collar. "You look nice."
"I don't like things around my neck like that." Agatha shoves her hands in her pockets. Or at least tried to. These pants were tighter, more form fitting, than the pants she usually wore. "And why don't you have to wear a tie? We're both wearing suits."
"It doesn't fit my aesthetic," Rio says. She grabs her hand and Agatha lets herself get pulled forward into the venue.
They make their way through the throng of fancily dressed people, Rio stopping once and a while to greet a person or another. While she wouldn't say it out loud, Agatha has to admit that Rio made the right choice taking over her wardrobe for tonight. She knows that if she dressed herself she'd stick out like a sore thumb.
Agatha can feel her mood sour. Just another difference between her and Rio. Vidal was a smart, put together FBI agent and she was just some backwater washed up detective that couldn't even get past the initial screening. Even their work events were more fancy than the small get-togethers her precinct does.
She steps closer to Rio, leaning in to speak softly into her ear. "You said there'd be drinks."
Rio turns and looks at her. Agatha waits patiently and resists the urge to rock. Not the place for it. Whatever thought that was running through her mind seems to be dismissed, and Rio points towards the back of the room. "Open bar over there." Agatha nods and starts to leave when a hand grabs her sleeve. She looks back to see Rio watching her. "Don't overindulge tonight."
Agatha rolls her eyes. "Yeah yeah." She pulls out of Rio's grasp. "I won't ruin your night. Do you want anything?"
Rio shakes her head, already turning back to her conversation.
~~~
Agatha orders a double whiskey sour. She leans back against the bar and watches as people move by. She recognizes some of them from her time spent working with Rio whenever the FBI feels like they should have jurisdiction of a case. Everyone else is unknown. So many moving parts. So many people. Her eyes track Rio as she glides effortlessly through them all.
A woman slides up next to her. She's wearing a skin tight blue and red dress, and her blonde hair is pinned up in some intricate. "Agatha, Right?" she says with a smile. She extends a hand. "We didn't think that you would actually show."
Agatha takes it, only slightly perturbed that the woman knows who she is. The FBI knows everything about everyone, but still, she's pretty sure she hasn't met this person before and she doesn't know why she's on her radar.
Another woman comes up behind the blond, handing her a drink. "Ignore her," she smiles. Her afro hair is pinned up in an updo and she wears a flowy blue and white dress. "I'm Monica and that's Carol. We've heard a lot about you."
Agatha's eyes dart between the two of them. "I can't say the same," she tries to laugh but it comes out strained. From across the room she notices Rio staring. "Should I be concerned?"
They both laugh. "I should hope not." Carol says.
"It's just that Rio has been talking a lot about her girlfriend who worked for the police but would never bring her to any events." Monica motions back to a group of people who quickly pretend that they weren't watching the trio. "We had started taking bets as to if you really existed."
It's only the distraction of the bartender placing down her drink that saves Agatha from making a fool out of herself. Girlfriend? Rio was speed walking in their direction, a look of alarm on her face.
"Oh," Agatha says. It's the only word she can manage and her voice cracks when she speaks.
She doesn't say anything else.
"Hey guys. What's up?" Agatha doesn't startle when Rio appears sliding her arm around her waist. She looks at the other woman, her voice is pitched, her face is tight and her smile a little too big. She's nervous.
"You owe me 50 bucks Vidal," Carol says. "I for sure you were making up the whole thing."
Rio laughs awkwardly. "That's your fault for trying to bet on my love life you perv."
"If it makes you feel better," Monica says. "Most people lost out. Prevailing attitude was that you were going to try and bring a stranger and pass her off as your detective cop. I think Natasha was the only one who bet you'd bring the real Agatha."
Natasha. Agatha knew her. The scary Russian chick that was oddly perceptive. Agatha peers over the two womens shoulders to look at the small cluster of agents at the other end of the bar. They were back to drinking, pretending to not pay attention to the group, but one of them, the redhead, stared straight back at her. She waves her fingers, a small, not at all sinister, smile gracing her face.
Agatha looks away.
"That in fact does not make me feel better," Rio is saying. "Don't you guys have anything better to do."
Carol scoffs. "Says the person that started the whole thing by betting on whether or not Phil got a Turkish hair transplant."
"You can't blame me for that. He was gone for like two–. You know what. Never mind. Agatha and I have somewhere else to be right now." Rio pulls Agatha away from her spot at the bar, and Agatha quickly grabs her drink and slams it down before allowing Rio to guide her through the room again.
Rio finds them a more secluded spot in the corner of the room. Agatha could've used the time walking to gather her thoughts, but she didn't, so when she opened her mouth to tell Rio off, all that came out was "I thought we were just friends?"
"We are," she says quickly. "We are friends. It's just… you know." Agatha crosses her arms. "You told everyone we're dating."
Rio has the decency to look a little bit guilty. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you beforehand. They kept trying to set me up and I told them I was dating someone. Just to get them off my back." She's rambling now, words running together. "And then they wanted proof, and I didn't have anyone else I could show. And I was going to tell you when we got here, but I got distracted. And I would've told you earlier but I knew you wouldn't want to come if I told you the truth."
"So you just wanted me here to be your fake girlfriend?" Agatha's cuts Rio off. She's aware that her voice is louder now, and Rio raises her hand, motioning for her to quiet down.
She doesn't even know why she's upset. It shouldn't matter that Rio told her coworkers that they were dating. She doesn't know them, and they probably won't see her again. And she knows she and Rio are just friends. Friends who fuck sometimes, but still friends.
So why the fuck is she feeling this way?
Everything feels tight and constricting and she has the sudden desire to leave. She pulls at her tie. "I didn't even want to come here," she says. "We could've just drank beer and watched stupid movies like we always do, but I came because you fuckin asked."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Rio reaches forward and undoes the tie entirely, and Agatha lets her. "I didn't think you'd care."
"I don't care," Agatha insists, but her voice cracks and her eyes are hot, and they both realize that they only have a short period of time to get away from prying eyes before something bad happens.
Listen, I know it's day 2 right now, but I just now found out about this AAA event yesterday. I'm slow. I banged this out in about 12 hours and posted it on ao3 at 2 in the morning so enjoy the fruits of my labor.
@agathaallalongweek
AO3 Link Here
Day 1 Day 2 Day 3
JUST FRIENDS
Summary: Agatha and Rio are at a work event and Agatha gets a little jealous about the attention her coworkers are giving Rio.
~~~
Agatha was upset.
Why?
Because Rio dragged her to some stupid work event that she didn't even want to go to, and then abandoned her to laugh it up with some strangers. Agatha scowled from her post in the corner of the room.
Everytime they both came to these events her coworkers would flock to Rio to hear all the cool things she got up to at the FBI. Even now Rio leaned casually against a table, beer in hand, wearing that stupid snug white button up with the top buttons undone. Her hair was down, her chain was on and she had three women around her hanging on to her every word.
Agatha took a sip of her own beer and grimaced. It was lite, had a criminally low abv, and tasted like piss. She doubted she'd even get a light buzz by the time the event was over.
"You look like you need a drink." A voice to her right said. "Shot?"
Agatha glanced over. Alice, now in full punk regalia instead of her beat cop uniform, looked at her with a smirk on her face. In her hands were two plastic solo cups, one of them held out towards her. "Johnson brought his basement moonshine." She said by way of explanation.
Agatha hesitated. Johnson fancied himself a chemist, and was always experimenting with different ways to make his drink of choice. His moonshine tasted straight up like flavored rubbing alcohol, but they packed a punch. "Rio doesn't really want me drinking much tonight."
Alice laughed. "So that's why you're drinking that shit," she said motioning to the bottle in her hand. "Thought this latest concussion finally did you in."
"Fuck off," Agatha muttered. Her 'latest concussion' was responsible for her fading bruise, stitches, and Rio's insistence that she not drink anything hard tonight.
"Where is Rio anyway?"
Agatha grunted, motioning in Rio's direction. "Off entertaining her fan club." Rio's little crowd had grown larger in the time Alice had come to talk to her. Rio was obviously getting to the climax of her story. Her drink had long since been abandoned and she was gesticulating wildly as the group provided her with their undivided attention. Agatha watched with distaste as some blonde girl leaned in close to Rio, placing her hand on the other woman's arm. She always did like attention.
"She seems busy," Alice said.
Agatha shot her a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Alice gave a small smile. "Nothing." She raised the cup. "Shot?"
"Fuck it," Agatha slammed back her beer before grabbing the cup from Alice's hand and downing that too. She regretted it instantly. "What the fuck was that?" she sputtered, coughing into her arm.
"Tastes awful right?" Alice slapped Agatha's back. "Johnson said he was trying out a banana flavored drink this time."
"That was foul," Agatha sniffed and straightened up. She could already feel the familiar warmth spread through her body as the alcohol made its way through her body. "That was way too much for a singular shot."
"You know Johnson is generous with his pours. Probably like two or three shots in that thing."
Agatha snorted. "Yeah and it's probably 100% proof too. He's gonna kill one of us someday."
A loud peal of laughter sounded from the otherside of the room. Agatha shook her head in disgust. "I don't get it. They're like this everytime she shows up." She crossed her arms. "FBI is not that special. They're more glorified pencil pushers."
"Aww," Alice poked Agatha in the side. "Is someone jealous that the cool FBI agent is getting more attention than the surly detective," she mocked.
Agatha slapped her hand away. "It's just that they act like we don't do cool stuff on the force too."
Alice snickered. "Oh my gosh you are jealous. I'll have you know to the desk jockey's like Sarah anything sounds cool."
"Sarah?"
Alice pointed. "The blonde hanging off of Rio's arm."
Agatha followed Alice's finger and a dull ache formed in her stomach. Most of the people around Rio had left, wandering off to talk to other people. The blonde, however, stayed and was now leaning against Rio watching the other woman talk.
Agatha snatched Alice's cup out of her hand ignoring her sounds of protest. She drank it in one go, wincing at both the taste and burn. She shoved the empty cup as well as her bottle of beer into Alice's arms and started forward.
"Go save your girl," Alice whooped.
Agatha flipped her off. "She's not my girl."
Agatha strode to the table holding Rio and the other girl, Sally? Sadie?, didn't matter. Agatha headed towards them with purpose, easily sidestepping her captain and other people that tried to talk to her. When she got to the duo she reached out and grabbed Rio's shoulder spinning her around and out of the other woman's grip.
The two stopped and stared at her, one in shock, the other with a frown on her face. Agatha swallowed and let her arm fall from Rio's shoulder. Agatha opened her mouth and then closed it, no sound coming out. She hadn't given it much thought about what she was going to do when she got here.
"Well?" Rio said, eyebrow raised, after Agatha didn't speak.
Agatha shuffled in place before shoving her hands into her pocket. "Hi," she said lamely.
Smooth.
"Right," Rio drawled. She leaned forward and Agatha rocked back on her heels holding Rio's gaze. She gave her her most innocent smile.
Rio sighed and turned to Susie. "Excuse us for one moment." She fixed Agatha with a stern look that had her smile faltering. "With me."
Agatha sneered at Sasha before rushing to catch up with Rio who was walking quite fast towards the one of the doors in the back. "Bet you're glad to get out of there," she joked. "I know how annoying my coworkers can get."
"Agatha."
"Yeah."
"Shut up."
Rio opened a door that led to a hallway and stepped through it. It was clean and empty and led to a dead end. Agatha let the door shut behind them, muffling the sound of music and chatter from the room behind them.
"Hey Rio. You're alright?" It was a dumb question to ask. Agatha could already tell that Rio was annoyed with something. Probably at the way she interrupted her and that woman.
"Not here Agatha," Rio said, moving further down the hallway.
Agatha stopped. "Not here?" She made a show of looking around the empty hallway. "This place is empty. Where are you even going? That's a dead end."
Rio opened one of the doors on the side of the hallway. Family bathroom. One room. No stall. Lock on the door. She held the door open and pointed inside. "In."
Agatha hesitated looking between Rio and the room. "You just wanna get outta here?"
"In. Now," Rio said. Agatha stayed still and Rio moved forward grabbing her arm. "You wanted my attention right? I assume that's why you've been acting like a brat."
Agatha squawked and tried to pull her arm out of Rio's grasp. "I haven't been acting like a brat," she said in protest. "Is this about that girl? Samantha? I was trying to rescue you."
Rio curled her hand tighter, nails digging into her arm. "Her name's Sarah, and it's not just her." She shoved Agatha into the bathroom, stepping in behind her and locking the door. "Don't think I haven't noticed you sulking in the corner all night."
Agatha turned and faced Rio. "I wasn't sulking," she said.
"Oh really. Then what do you call you standing in the corner looking like you'd rather be anywhere else but here?"
"I didn't want to be here," Agatha exclaimed. "You're the one that wanted to come."
"Yeah," Rio said, taking a step closer. "I did want to come. I also wanted to hang out with my partner, but strangely she's been missing all night. Know anything about that?"
Agatha took a step back. "Oh wow. I'm surprised you noticed," she sneered. "Thought you were too busy entertaining your little groupie fanclub of thirsty women."
"Thirsty women?" Rio paused and cocked her head. A slow smile spread across her face. "Agatha Harkness. Are you jealous?"
Agatha shook her head quickly. "'Course not," she said. "What do I have to be jealous of? It's not like we're dating or anything." She aimed for nonchalant, but could feel her face heating up.
Rio's smile turned predatory and Agatha had the distinct feeling that she messed up. "You're right." She stepped forward trapping Agatha against the wall. "We aren't dating." She brought her hand up and slipped it under Agatha's flannel. "We just fuck a little, don't we?"
"Y– Yeah," Agatha stuttered. She let out a shaky breath as Rio's hand skirted across her stomach, moving higher until they got to the underside of her bra. "Only fuck."
"As friends?" Rio's other hand slid down cupping Agatha over her pants at the same time as her other hand pushed her bra up and cupped her breast.
"Fuck Rio." Agatha threw her head back against the wall, hips bucking up into Rio's hand.
Rio chuckled. "Sure are needy tonight aren't you?" She leaned forward, licking a stripe down Agatha's neck.
A downright sinful moan left Agatha's throat. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily. Alcohol always had the unfortunate side effect of enhancing all her senses. Good when she was getting laid. Bad in literally every other situation. She felt her clit throb.
"Rio," she whined. "Please touch me."
"Maybe I will," Rio said. Her fingers deftly undid the buttons on Agatha's jeans. They ghosted against the front of Agatha's briefs applying the slightest bit of pressure. "Or maybe I should leave, see if Sarah wants to talk."
She made to take her hand out of Agatha's pant's, but Agatha was quicker, reaching out and grabbing Rio's wrist. "Don't you fucking dare," she panted grinding into Rio's palm. It was desperate. It was pathetic. It was showing her hand too early, but Agatha didn't care.
She was horny and she needed to get off. The alcohol had made its rounds and settled in her brain making everything fuzzy and floaty. She brought her free hand to palm at her breast as she rutted against Rio's hold.
Rio yanked her hand out of Agatha's grasp, pulling her hand out of the other's pants. Agatha whined hips bucking against nothing. She felt tears prick in the corners of her eyes.
"You good?" Rio asked.
"I'd be better if you touch me." She grabbed Rio's shirt, fisting the fabric. "Please, I need you. Touch me" Rio hesitated, eyes scanning Agatha's person. Agatha leaned forward, mouthing at Rio's neck. "Please Rio?"
"Alright baby." She put her hand back sliding underneath Agatha's underwear and dipping down cup her sex. Her fingers teased her folds, swiping through the wetness that gathered. "Holy shit you're wet."
Agatha felt a full body shudder roll through her and she rocked against the hands in her pants. "Fuck," Agatha moaned. "I need you inside. Now."
"Do you think you deserve it?"
"Yes," Agatha whined. "Please. I've been good."
"You have?" Rio dipped the pad of her finger inside Agatha's hole before quickly withdrawing and circling around her clit. "But I remember you being a brat. And being rude."
Agatha struggled to think. Her thoughts were slow, the thought of Rio's fingers in her the only coherent thought running through her mind. "I– I…" A keening noise left her throat as Rio pressed against her clit, rubbing harder. "I came here," she said weakly. "So I deserve a reward."
"A reward?" Rio pushed one finger in, pumping it in and out. "I think I can work with that." She added another using her palm to grind against Agatha's clit. Agatha clenched around her fingers with a groan.
Agatha sagged forward, vision blurring as Rio's fingers sunk inside. "Yes," she chanted. "Yes, Yes, Yes."
"You like that baby?" Rio started moving her fingers at a leisurely place, slowly pulling them out before pushing them back again. "Like my fingers in you? Filling you up?"
Agatha nodded where her head rested in the crook of the other woman's neck. "Uh huh." Her mouth hung open, drool dripping out the side. "I want…" she trailed off wrapping her arms around the other woman as she rode her.
"What else do you want?" Rio twisted her fingers inside, pumping them in and out. "Use your words baby."
"Kiss?" Agatha said quietly. "Please?"
"Well since you asked so nicely." Rio leaned in pressing her lips against Agatha's.
It was a soft kiss and Agatha groaned as Rio's tongue slipped in her mouth. She brought her hand up and grabbed Rio's head trying to bring the other woman closer.
Rio pulled back, her face screwing into a frown. "Have you been drinking?"
Busted.
Agatha leaned forward trying to capture Rio's lips again. "It was only a little bit." She grunted as Rio pushed her face again. "Johnson came up with a new flavor."
"You drank Johnson's moonshine?" Agatha shuddered as Rio pulled out, legs buckling. Rio grabbed her before she could hit the floor. "I can't believe you, I told you not to drink anything. You have a concussion and you're on medication."
"Rio," Agatha whined. "Let's finish."
"No. No. We aren't doing anything. You don't get to cum tonight." Rio said. Agatha watched bleary eyed as Rio started fixing her clothes, butting up her pants and straightening her flanel. All the while she was muttering under her breath. "Fucking idiot. Gosh, how didn't I see it sooner. You always get horny when you're drunk. Fucking moonshine. No wonder you're so out of it."
"It was just a shot," she slurred. Her body moved willingly as Rio wrapped her arm around her.
"Yeah a Johnson shot. That's a one way ticket to dialysis." She moved towards the door pulling Agatha into the hallway. "Come on. You're going home."
"Are you mad at me?" Agatha whispered.
Rio adjusted her hold on Agatha kicking open the second set of doors leading them back out into the party. "What do you think?" They made their way through the throng of people
"Get her home in one piece, Agent," The Chief said. "I still need my detective conscious at work," he chuckled.
"Can't guarantee she'll be without hangover sir," Rio shot back. "But I'll do my best."
The two of them stepped out of the venue. The air felt cool on her flushed skin, and for the first time Agatha registered just how drunk she was. She focused on breathing as the sidewalk spun before her. Everything was hitting at once. Vaguely she could see Rio doing something on her phone, probably getting them a ride?
She wasn't a light weight by any means, but she also hadn't eaten anything before coming here. And Johnson's moonshine would fuck anyone up on a good day, much less a day when you haven't had anything some cookies and meds.
She fucked up.
"'M sorry," Agatha mumbled. "Didn't mean to make you mad."
Rio sighed. "I'm not mad Agatha. Just disappointed."
"Oh." Disappointed was always worse than being mad. "I'll be good next time."
Vidal stares at her and Agnes stares back. She doesn't say anything. Can't say anything. Words form in her brain but get lost before they reach her mouth.
Vidal leans forward, arms hanging loosely over her knees. Her eyes narrow, just the slightest and her head cocks to the side. Agnes feels the sudden desire to move her tongue pokes out to lick her lips and fingers drum against the arm of her chair. Agnes wonders, briefly, what she sees.
"You can be in control if you want," Vidal says. She speaks softly, voice low and sultry and Agnes shivers as the words curl around the room and sink into her skin.
Vidal stands and walks across the room. She moves slowly, and with every step Agnes feels herself shrink, slouching down in her chair, hands tightening around the armrests.
Vidal stands before her, a small smirk on her face.
"But I don't think you really want to." Vidal leans over, trapping her. Her fingers reach out, brushing gently against the flannel of her shirt before heading down.
During the 3 years she was trapped under Wanda's spell her Westview neighbors created a group chat to organize who was going to check in on her and when.
They felt like they owed it to her since she 'saved' them from the hex.
Wanda's spell did not include a "how to take care of yourself when your whole reality is limited to your house and the neighborhood" instruction set.
They talk, low and quiet. Sometimes they fight. Loud voices echoing through the TARDIS. They never do it in front of the fam though. When any of them enters the room they fall quiet. Only the tail end of the word Contact spoken between them. Something's aren't met for human ears they suppose.
The Doctor doesn’t like to sleep. Graham finds out why.
Short little fic featuring sleep deprived Doctor and Grandad Graham.
Word Count: 3904
(ao3 link)
---
It would take 1728 boxes of tea to fill the whole ceiling; give or take a couple boxes. That's what Graham thought to himself as he lay in bed, sleep eluding him. He did the math for it, estimating how many boxes were in a row, and how many were in a column. He was confident that he got the right number, but just to be sure he decided to count them, pretending to put each box up. Then he decided to count down, pretending to take each box down. Then he decided that whoever said counting things would make you fall asleep was a bloody idiot.
When he started thinking about how many biscuits it would take to fill the ceiling he decided it would probably be a better use of his time to just get up. Despite his tiredness, it was obvious he wasn't going to fall asleep.
Graham puttered around his room. He read a chapter of the book The Doctor suggested for him. He tidied up his collection of souvenirs. He picked what outfit he would wear for the next trip. Briefly he wondered if he should get dressed, commit to being awake. Instead he pulled on his robe and hoped that a stroll around the TARDIS would tire him out.
Graham shuffled down the hall ignoring all the doors that appeared before him. He usually made a point of opening at least one door to try to get to know exactly what was in the TARDIS, but he wasn't really in the mood to encounter anything weird like an avalanche of bouncy balls. Tonight he was on a mission. Get to the kitchen to make some tea, preferably chamomile, walk around the TARDIS drinking said tea, be tired enough to get some sleep. Graham turned into the kitchen gathering the supplies he needed for his drink. It was the perfect plan.
It was not the perfect plan. He forgot to account for the wild card. The Doctor.
Graham stared forlornly at the shattered mug and the slowly spreading puddle of tea. He turned to the cause of the mess, The Doctor, who hadn't moved from her position against the console, legs splayed out, tools scattered around, looking at him through half lidded eyes.
"Graham?"
"You're a tripping hazard," he said in response.
He watched as she looked between him and the mess on the ground, gears turning in her head as she tried to piece together what happened. "Did you throw your tea on the ground?"
Graham let out a short laugh. "I tripped over your legs." He nudged at them with his foot. "What are you doing lying on the floor?" He already knew the answer. It was clear that she had fallen asleep doing whatever it was she did at night.
"Um," she reached around blindly for one of the tools lying around her. "Maintenance," she said.
"Right," he said, making sure to put all the sarcasm he could into that word. "And do you usually do that with your eyes closed?"
She looked away, twisting the spanner in her hands. "I wasn't sleeping."
He smirked. "I didn't say you were, but since you brought it up you should probably go to bed."
She quickly scrambled to her feet and glared at him. "I'm not tired. I don't need to go to bed." It would've been more believable if she weren't quite literally swaying where she stood. It seemed she came to the same conclusion he did because she leaned back against the console crossing her arms. "I'm not tired," she repeated.
"Doc, you were literally on the floor sleep. You can’t pretend that you weren’t.”
“I don’t have to pretend anything ‘cause it didn't happen.” She pushed away from the console walking around it so that he couldn’t see her face. “Maybe you’re tired,” she countered.
Graham switched tactics. He knew from experience that you could show The Doctor that the sky was blue and she’d say it was green. Then she would convince you that it was green, and when you accepted that it was green she’d say it was blue and take you to a planet that actually had a green sky. There was no winning a debate against The Doctor.
“If you truly aren’t tired then you should be able to lie in bed without falling asleep.” He heard her scoff. “Just for an hour.” They’ve learned that The Doctor almost always responds to a challenge. It was an easy way to try and get her to do something that she didn’t want to do. This knowledge was mostly used by Ryan to get The Doctor to play video games with him. He waited to see if The Doctor would take the bait.
He didn’t see her, but he heard the nervous tapping of her fingers against the console, probably trying to decide if he was tricking her or not. “If you think you’ll fall asleep you don’t have to do it,” he added. Immediately he heard the stomping of feet as The Doctor circled the console to face him. He schooled his face into something that wasn’t a smirk.
“I will not fall asleep.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. She twirled, coat spinning behind her as she strode out the room. “C’mon.”
He looked at the mess that covered the floor, mentally apologized to the TARDIS for leaving it behind, and followed The Doctor out into the hall
As they made the trek through the TARDIS he took a moment to observe her. Despite her objections she projected tiredness. Her clothes were wrinkled and stained, from being worn too long or simply her constant repairs he did not know. She didn’t quite walk in a straight line either. She wavered slightly, feet dragging against the ground. A far cry from her usually bouncy and bubbly self.
Not for the first time he found himself wondering how much she slept. He was always an early riser, but no matter how early he rose she would always be in the console room tinkering with something. He had spoken to Yaz and Ryan and they told him that she was there when they went to bed. She had said early on that she didn’t need as much sleep as the rest of them, but he found her passed out on the ground, so he didn’t think that was quite true.
He gave a soft sigh as she stumbled over her feet for the second time. “Doc, do you even know where you’re going?” he asked. They had been walking way longer than he thought was necessary for a trip to a bedroom, and he could’ve sworn he saw the same blue door three times already.
The Doctor looked up at him affronted. “Of course I know where we’re going,” she said. “It’s my TARDIS. I know where everything is.”
“Uh huh.” They had stopped, standing in the middle of the hallway with a spattering of doors around them. “Then can you tell me why we’re walking in circles?”
She looked around making a big show of looking confused. It wasn’t convincing. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”
Graham pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself to be patient. “We’ve passed by that same blue door three times now. We haven’t gone anywhere.”
He watched as The Doctor glanced guiltily at the door before looking down at the floor shuffling her feet. He frowned. She was coming up with a lie. The only good thing about her apparent sleep deprivation was that it was getting a lot easier to tell when The Doctor was trying to pull one over on them. “It seems that,” she started slowly, “that the TARDIS is hiding the bedroom. Yeah.” She clapped her hands. “Yup. The TARDIS is hiding the bedroom. On account of me not being tired and all.” She smiled up at him, her sleep-addled brain obviously thinking that her attempt at lying was well received.
Graham frowned down at her, and the TARDIS lights flickered around them. He heard her mumble something under her breath, and he glanced back over at the blue door to see that the light above it was glowing brighter than the others. “Well,” he said, putting a hand at the small of her back to guide her to the door. “If the TARDIS really did hide your room then you wouldn’t mind checking out this one would you?” It was a gamble. He had no idea where that room led. It could’ve led to a shark pit, though he distinctly remembered that door being a more grayish color. He sent up a silent prayer to the TARDIS begging her to turn this room into some sort of a bedroom.
He opened the door. It was dark.
Hand fumbling for the light switch he turned it on to see what looked to be an ordinary, somewhat small, bedroom. There was a small twin size bed in one corner adorned with patterned light blue sheets. The only other item in the room was a wooden desk with a matching wooden chair. The wall held a walk-in closet and another door which led to the bathroom. It was quaint.
“This is your room?” Graham said walking around leisurely. It looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. A fine layer of dust was sitting on top of the desk. It was also very empty. “Don’t got any photographs?”
“Not here,” she said curtly.
He turned to look at her. She was obviously annoyed, arms crossed, glaring at nothing in particular. Or perhaps she was glaring at the TARDIS. “You can go get changed,” he motioned to the closet.
“Graham,” The Doctor tried. “We don’t have to do this.” He only raised an eyebrow in response. A move he perfected on kids who tried to skip the fare or cause trouble on the bus. The Doctor held his gaze for only a couple seconds before wilting and making her way to the closet grumbling under her breath.
When she made her way out Graham had settled himself in the hard wooden chair. He watched as she made her way over to the bed but said nothing. She had changed into a pair of striped pajamas. They looked to be mens and several sizes too large for her. He was suddenly reminded of when he first saw her. Back then she was also wearing clothes that did not fit her. He did not have time to think about what that meant. The Doctor had settled herself on top of her bed, sitting cross legged to face him.
“What now?” She asked.
“Now you actually get under the covers.”
She let out a groan. “I don’t want to,” she whined. Graham felt both eyebrows rise as he watched the childish display. He was surprised she hadn’t started kicking her feet. He hesitated only for a moment before standing up and approaching the bed.
“None of that now.” He started pulling the covers down, making her move to get under them. Doing that was a risky move, and he felt that he may be overstepping his boundaries, but she surprisingly didn’t protest, letting herself be tucked in. “We said that you would lay in bed for an hour, and if you weren’t tired you could get up.”
“But I was on the bed,” she said as Graham pulled the covers over her.
“Yes and now you’re in bed.” He stood up and made his way to the door. “One hour. Don’t get up.”
"Graham," she said softly.
He turned around. She had moved herself back into a sitting position. He thought that maybe she was going to argue with him again, but she didn't. She looked down at her hands that were fiddling with the blanket and her teeth were worrying her lip. This was the most vulnerable he's ever seen her, so he waited in silence for her to gather the strength to say what she needed to say.
"Could you leave the lights on?"
That was not what he was expecting. "The lights?" He looked over to where his hand was resting on the light switch. "You can't sleep with the lights on," he said.
"Yeah. It was stupid of me to ask."
He stood in silence watching her completely avoid looking in his direction, face slowly turning red. "Alright then." He gave one last look before turning back to the door and flipping the switch, plunging the room in darkness.
He heard a hitch of breath and quickly muffled whimper and he had to stop himself from laughing at the absurdity of the situation. "Are you scared of the dark?" He asked.
There was silence, and then spoken so softly that he almost wondered if she'd spoken at all, a response. "No."
He leaned against the door frame letting his head hit the wall behind him with a thunk. He was so tired. He just wanted to go to bed, but … The Doctor. The Doctor who took them on adventures all throughout space and time. The Doctor who could be, admittedly, rude and a bit of an annoyance. The Doctor who would drop everything to help someone she didn't even know. That Doctor was afraid of the dark and too scared to ask for help. He pushed himself off the wall and shuffled over to the bathroom. Who needs sleep anyways.
"Where are you going?" The Doctor asked.
"To use the toilet. Why wait to use mine when there's a perfectly good one right here." He figured he would save her the embarrassment of admitting that she was scared. Go in, pretend to use the bathroom, accidentally forget to turn the lights off when he leaves. A solid plan.
When he got to the bathroom he turned the lights on and sat on the toilet, drumming his fingers. As soon as he had closed the door the sounds of a hushed conversation began outside and he had to assume that she was talking to the TARDIS. He still did not know how that worked and it unnerved him slightly; the idea that the ship was alive. He glanced at the toilet and then quickly banished that line of thought from his head.
Whatever conversation that was happening in the other room ended, so he flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and left.
He came out to a very red faced looking Doctor and a large plush sofa chair, that wasn’t there before, sitting by her bed.
He looked at the chair, then at The Doctor, who was doing an impressive job of glaring at the chair, and then back to the chair again.
"Do you want me to sit down for a bit?" He asked.
"No," she said quickly. A low hum vibrated throughout the room. "Only if you want to," she amended.
He sat. Silence settled awkwardly between them. Despite her tendency to talk a mile a minute about anything she said nothing, and this was completely new territory for him so he didn’t know what to say. He tapped a beat on the armrest of the chair while he listened to The Doctor shift around beside him.
When it seemed like she was ready to explode out of the bed with her restless energy Graham spoke. "Did I ever tell you about my days in school?"
She looked up at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I'm not a child, Graham," The Doctor said sullenly. "You don't have to tell me a bedtime story."
He held her gaze with an amused smile and she huffed, turning back to her sheets, looking very much like the image she was trying to avoid.
Graham continued talking. "I know you aren't. But I don't want you going around thinking I'm some old coward who's scared of adventure. I have my wild side," he joked.
The Doctor shot up and he found himself staring into her eyes. He was reminded then of how alien she truly was. "You are very brave Graham." She spoke intensely, as if it was vital that he understood this piece of information. "You have faced things most people would've run away from. Seen things most people couldn't imagine. You're –"
She broke off letting out a yawn, and Graham took that as an opportunity to interrupt, desperate to get away from the conversation. "Will you please let me tell you the story?" He asked.
She frowned at him, eyes searching his face. He didn't know what she was looking for, but whatever she found satisfied her because she slouched down, hands twisting at the blanket again. A far cry from the ancient being that spoke of him like he was the most important thing in the universe. "I guess," she mumbled.
Graham grinned. "Alright then cockle," he winced as the pet name slid off his tongue, but she didn't object to it. "Get all tucked in and I'll tell you the story of how the Great Graham O'Brien flooded his whole school."
The Doctor made a face but slid down until she was all the way under the covers again. She scrunched her nose. "How'd you manage to flood a whole school?" She sat up again. "Were there aliens?" She gasped. "Please tell me there were aliens."
Graham stifled a sigh. He was trying to get her to fall asleep, not get all excited again. "If you lay back down I'll tell you."
She grumbled under her breath but acquiesced. "Now," Graham began. "I think I were about 16 years old..."
---
In the end, Graham had told the story of him flooding the school, plus three more before The Doctor finally drifted off to sleep. It was strange seeing her like this. With the exception of when they first met and the sonic mine disaster he doesn’t think he’s actually seen her sleep. She looked younger in sleep; all the stress brought about by their adventures smoothed out. But it wasn’t just that. Awake, The Doctor seemed to cast an otherworldly presence. In the moments when she stood still it was like an ancient being appeared in the room, and then just as quickly disappeared.
He was broken out of his musing by a soft whimper. The Doctor was not sleeping peacefully. Her face had scrunched up into an expression he had never seen while she was awake. Her hands fisted at the blankets, and she curled up, mumbling softly. Fear. That’s what he saw.
Is this why you avoid going to bed ? He thought to himself. Why you try to stay up as long as possible ? Graham thought back to the times he woke in the middle of the night, sweat on his brow, a scream on his lips, the terrors of the previous trip fresh on his mind. He remembered his fear and then remembered that The Doctor was so much older and had seen so much more. What is it that scares you?
He didn’t have much experience dealing with other people’s nightmares, but he did have his own. Back before, when he had cancer, when he had Grace, he used to have a lot of nightmares. He was told it was normal for those going through what he went through. He remembered Grace waking him up, holding him close, reassuring him. He knew The Doctor wasn’t much one for physical contact and would probably reject any type of concern directed her way, but he figured one out of three would be good enough for her.
He reached out, intent only to wake her up, but the moment he touched her he was gone.
The first thing he noticed was the smoke in the air. It coated his lungs and burned his eyes. He coughed, struggled to his feet, and looked around. He was at the bottom of a hill. The sky was orange, the grass was red, and fires raged all around. He staggered and made his way up the hill. Overhead he could hear ships, and feel the tremors as they crashed to the ground. When he got to the top he froze at the scene before him.
Destruction. Ahead the remains of what was once a city. Fires burned and buildings toppled. On the ground there were objects. He squinted, not objects. Bodies. Thousand of bodies, some in what looked to be a uniform, others in robes. Old. Young. All dead. He dropped to his knees, an unmistakable feeling of anguish washed over him. A pair of boots entered his vision. They were dirty, coated in red mud and orange tinged blood. They were familiar. His eyes slowly traveled up, taking in the ruined trousers and tattered jumper before landing on a face shrouded by blond hair. They tilted their head, confusion gracing their features.
"Graham?"
Graham fell back, kneeling by the bed. The smell of fire still reached his nose and his vision was blurred. He reached up to find his cheeks wet. What was it that he saw?
“Graham? Wha-?” She slurred, barely awake. Graham flinched, and looked up to see The Doctor looking at him in confusion.
“It’s okay.” Graham reached out, but didn’t touch her this time. “Just a bad dream.” He tried to keep the waver out of his voice. “You can go back to sleep.”
She looked at him. For a brief moment her eyes focused on him. “You’re crying.” She spoke softly, as if she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Graham smiled in a way that he hoped didn’t show how shaken up he was. It didn’t work. Her face crumpled. “I’m sorry.”
This time Graham did touch her. He reached for her, awkwardly patting her shoulder, and was surprised when she leaned into him. He sat down on her bed letting her rest fully on him. He wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her arm in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” He was beginning to think that what he had seen was what came from The Doctor’s mind. He didn’t know how that worked, but felt deep in his bones that The Doctor would never intentionally let him see that. The destruction. The fear.
“I didn’t mean- You weren’t supposed to see-”
He cut her off. “It’s okay. Just bad dreams, right?. Everyone gets them.” Apparently it was the right thing to say, as he felt her relax a little bit more in his arms. He repeated the words, adding in other generic terms of comfort. He hoped that it was less what he said and more how he said it, that would offer her support. Little by little the weight against his side got heavier until he had a sleeping alien curled up against him.
Laying her back down on the bed he pulled the covers up, tucking her in. He couldn’t help but let his hand brush back a stray hair from her face. She shifted in her sleep, letting out a small satisfied noise. He smiled sadly at that, knowing it was only something she would only allow herself in her most vulnerable moments. He sat back down on his chair and pushed away the images of the burning city. She was much older than him but he couldn’t help but feel protective of her.
When he woke, she was gone, and his back ached with something furious. but there was a blanket thrown over him and a packet of biscuits on his lap. He knew that while they would never speak of it that she appreciated his help.
Do You Know What a Thousand Years Does to a Person?
Trying my hand at a Doctor Who fanfic, featuring old companions and a slightly dark Doctor.
Some race has taken a bunch of The Doctors previous companions from their respective timelines. The thirteenth Doctor rescues them all. The past companions are reminded of how scary The Doctor can be.
This fic starts right after she breaks them out.
Word Count: 2109
(ao3 link)
---
Jack slowed down as they entered the main chamber. They had passed tapestries in the passageways as they made their way through the castle. None of them compared to what they saw hanging in the open area. Large woven tapestries were stretched horizontally over the length of the walls. They were periodically broken up by long banners that stretched down from the ceiling. The companions spread out as they looked upon the artwork in awe. The Doctor, Jack noticed, stood her hands in her pockets, rocking back on her heels as she watched them roam around the room.
He turned back to examine the work on the wall. It looked to be depicting several of their accomplishments throughout time. He saw their space travel. He saw their interactions with other planets. He saw their scientific achievements. He felt eyes on him
He turned to see The Doctor staring at him with a slight frown on her face. When she saw him looking, her face brightened and she gave a small wave. The smile didn't reach her eyes.
He turned back to look at the tapestries again. Something about them seemed familiar. He looked over them once more, but instead of admiring them for their beauty he racked his brain for answers. He stopped short when he came to the last one. It was unfinished, that was clear. The last thing shown was a group of beings, hands raised as they surrounded a hole in the tapestry. He reached out and touched it. A rift. His eyes widened and he slowly stepped back, taking in the whole work. He knows where he's seen this.
He plastered a fake smile on his face. "Doctor," he called out. The others glanced up at the call but turned back to the artwork, chatting among themselves. The Doctor stood still, regarding him wearily. He swallowed thickly and motioned for her to come over to him. She did so. Slowly.
He waited until she got within earshot before speaking again. "This artwork is very impressive," he said, turning back to face the wall. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. He saw her relax a little and reached out to run a finger over the rough fabric.
"It really is. It's a fine piece of craftsmanship that was put into this," she said. She looked up at the other pieces hanging higher up on the wall. "This whole room contains the most important parts of their history. Every time they add a new tapestry they shift everything over."
The others had wandered closer as she explained the history behind the area. Jack nodded and thought about how to approach his next question. "Doctor," he said, keeping his tone light. "Where are we?"
She hummed, but did not answer. She stayed quiet for a while and Jack thought she wasn't going to speak until she did. She spoke, but did not look at him. "Nowhere important," she said lightly.
The smile fell off his face. Slowly he counted to ten before turning to face The Doctor. "Look at me," he said gruffly. She didn't move and instead continued to look ahead. He grabbed The Doctor roughly and turned her around to face him.
"Doctor," he said again. "Where are we?"
"Jack," she said softly. She looked at him with those big doe eyes, and he cursed under his breath before asking again desperation leaking into his voice.
"When are we?"
"Jack…" she didn't say more.
He turned around taking deep breaths. He ran his hands roughly through his hair and tried to count to ten. Dimly he registered that the others had stopped talking, instead paying attention to the two of them. He ignored them, instead focusing on his counting. He made it to five before swinging back around to The Doctor. He saw her flinch and knew that he must look furious.
"Doctor," he said. His voice cracked on the word. She didn't answer, instead took a step back, retreating from his approaching form. She continued stepping back as he advanced until she tripped, stumbling. Jack's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, hauling her back up before she could fall. He looked into her eyes. He didn't see fear. He only saw guilt, and acceptance. His grip tightened.
"I'm sorry," she mouthed. Quiet enough that only he could hear.
"No," he whispered. He could barely hear himself over the roaring in his ears. The Doctor didn't respond, only looked at him sadly. He raised his free hand. He didn't know why. He didn't know what he was going to do. The Doctor didn't move, didn't even try to pull away. He felt hands on him. Grabbing him, pulling him away. He released her and stumbled back.
"What the hell was that about mate?" Graham said angrily.
They were divided. Mickey and Martha stood behind Jack, holding him back. Graham hovered protectively over The Doctor while Yaz and Ryan stood in front of her glaring angrily at Jack. The others stood in between not sure where they should stand. The Doctor herself stood cowed, curled slightly in on herself, holding her wrist tightly to her chest. She didn't look away from him. She looked small and innocent and Jack didn't even think she knew how she looked to the others right now.
"Jack," she said softly. She didn't elaborate.
Jack roughly shook off Mickey and Martha and flexed his fingers. "It's nothing," he ground out. He turned and started walking towards the entrance. "Let's just keep going."
"Keep going?" He heard Yaz shout from behind him. "You just –". She was cut off by The Doctor.
"Leave him be," he heard her say. "He's just stressed out." He shook his head in annoyance and walked away so he didn't have to hear her pacify her new companions.
~~~
The atmosphere in the room was tense. The Doctor had long since left, whisking her three companions off on another adventure. "To make up for them being kidnapped," She had said. She extended the offer to all of them. Jack declined immediately. The others, after looking at Jack and the worried look on The Doctor's face, had also declined, citing various reasons as to why they shouldn't. They couldn't help but note the look of relief that crossed her face when they said they wouldn't come.
Instead they all chose to convene at Martha and Mickey's house. They had sat together in silence for the better part of the hour; sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits. Jack could feel their eyes on him as they tried their best to not watch him as he methodically crushed the biscuits in his hand. It was Mickey who spoke first.
"Alright Jack mate, speak. What the hell happened back there?"
He flinched at the sound of Mickey's voice but didn't answer. He reached for another biscuit and got his hand slapped. He pulled back and scowled looking at the offender.
"Don't give me that look." Martha said unapologetically. "I'm not going to have you waste all my biscuits. And you're definitely going to be cleaning up the mess before you leave."
"Jack," Sarah Jane reached out and touched him on the knee. "What happened?"
He leaned back and ran his hand through his hair trying to think of the best way to explain things. "Lamenskins," he said finally.
The others exchanged confused looks. "Mate, I've got no idea what that is." Bill said. The others nodded in agreement.
"You probably wouldn't," he said. "It was after your time. It was before mine. By a couple of centuries."
"Is that where we were?" Clara asked.
He nodded. "The castle, the area, the group of people. That was Lamenskin. At least I think" He paused. Everyone settled down and leaned in. He looked around at each of them in turn. He opened his mouth and began to speak.
"It’s a bit fuzzy and I didn’t know for sure until I saw the tapestries.” When I grew up the Lamenskins were just a chapter in our history books, but before that they were kinda like a myth. There were all these stories of this amazing race that had pushed the bounds of science and medicine. A race that had single handedly advanced our section of the galaxy far beyond that of other areas. There were so many stories across so many planets of this group whose only goal seemed to be helping others. But one day they just disappeared.
“Over time they sort of became an urban legend. It was only a century or so before I was born that some archeologists stumbled upon their planet. They found technology far beyond anything that we had even seen. But there was no trace of the Lamenskins.”
"You think The Doctor caused their disappearance." Martha said.
"We know what length The Doctor would go to protect us." He said. "We may pretend not to but we're not like the others. We've seen what he, no she, no they. We've seen what they can do."
"The Oncoming Storm," Mickey said softly.
"The Destroyer of Worlds,"
"Time-Lord Victorious,"
They sat in silence, each one trying to digest the information that was told to them.
"We didn't see any bodies." Bill said hopefully. "Could be that she just magicked them away?" Even as she spoke Jack could tell she didn't believe it.
They sat in silence. Nibbling biscuits, sipping tea, avoiding thinking about the obvious fact of what happened to their captors. Jack reached for another biscuit, examining it. Custard Cream. That was The Doctor’s favorite if he remembered right. He closed his hand and watched it crumble to the floor.
"Have you noticed how much this new doctor talks?" Bill asked. It was an obvious attempt to clear the awkward air that had settled around the room, but the others leapt at it like a lifeline. "It’s a big change from grumbly old eyebrows."
Clara nodded laughing. "It really is. I swear she jumped to three separate topics in one minute. I don't know how the others keep up with her."
"They probably just learned to nod at the right places," Mickey said. "I know I did with our Doctor." He nudged his wife.
She rolled her eyes. "It was practically a requirement. I’m glad to see that the tendency to talk indef about things nobody cares to understand still remains." The others chuckled in agreement. "I saw their faces when we first got out. Their eyes practically glazed over the moment she started talking. They are definitely used to that."
"But she is kinda cute tho." Bill said. "What?” She said defending herself. “We were all thinking about it."
Mickey raised his hand. "I wasn't. I'm married.”
They all laughed, and just like that the mood in the room lightened.
"But seriously though," Bill said. "You all knew The Doctor as a man right? It’s so weird."
“I know.”Mickey said, “I can’t imagine her gettin’ out half the trouble she’d get into as a woman.” At the looks he received he added, “not that being a girl has anything to do with it.”
“You’re outnumbered my friend.” Jack said with a smile. “I can’t decide if this new regeneration puts her in more or less trouble. She’s so trusting and excitable. You can see it on her face, she shows every emotion. She’s impulsive- ” He cut himself off in frustration, hands raking roughly through his hair. He liked The Doctor. Honestly, he did, but sometimes she scared him. “It’s what makes her dangerous.”
“You think she could’ve found another way.” Clara said flatly.
“I don’t think she wanted to.” He replied. He slumped, feeling all his years hit him at once. “You guys don’t understand. She’s lived for thousands of years, born to a race that thought themselves superior to everything else. It gets difficult to keep things in perspective. Hell, I’m only human, and have been around just for a fraction of the time she has. It gets hard. When you outlive so many people. It gets hard to keep things in perspective. Sacrificing a whole civilization to save her friends?” He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. “I know she did what she thought she had to do but…” He trailed off and looked at his friends. Friends he knew he was going to outlive.
"It still hurts. To be reminded of what she's done. What she will do. What she can do. And to know that no matter how many thousands of years will pass, she'll never forget." Jack looked down at his hands. "I know I won't."
Small drabble. Pretend for some reason The Doctor and The Master have to work together. They do and the fam observe.
~~~
They watch them. The two Time Lords who have sequestered themselves in the library; heads bent over books, whispering to each other in a language they don't understand.
They've blocked themselves off. The two of them. The Doctor doesn’t visit the Fam. Not to eat. Not to sleep. They try to talk to her. Try to get her to come with them. She doesn’t leave. She brushes them away. Projecting . . . not annoyance, but disinterest. Somehow that hurts more.
They, The Master and The Doctor, don’t leave the library. They, The Fam, walk into an empty console room.
The days repeat.
Until it doesn’t.
The Master and The Doctor stand in front of the Tardis doors; sharply dressed in tuxes, harsh whispers floating across the floor. The words cut off, when they enter. Two pairs of eyes stare, one more guilty than the other.
They ask questions. Where are you going? What are you doing? Can we come we come along? She responds. We’re just going out. It’ll take too long to explain. It’s to dangerous for you.
The message was clear. You aren’t welcome.
They leave.
They come back.
Laughter rings out; high and bright. It’s a sound they haven’t heard. Not for a while.
The Master and The Doctor stand in front of the Tardis door. Their clothes, burnt, soaked with blood. Their faces, smudged with dirt, and smiling. The doctor didn’t smile. Not like that. Not softly.
They ask questions. Where did you go? What happened? Are you ok?
She responds. Nowhere important. It’s just a little scuffled. Don’t worry it’s not our blood.
They falter, look at each other unsure, all thinking the same thing. When did The Doctor start not caring about blood. When did she start referring to them as our. When did she start laughing with The Master.
The Doctor did not notice. The Master looked on, smug. The Fam looked back unsettled.
The Master put his arm around The Doctor's shoulders. And they watched. And they waited. They Waited for her to stiffen. To push him away. To distance herself. The Doctor did not like being touched. They knew that.
She didn’t.
She leaned into him; and closed her eyes. She did not hesitate, she did not push him away. She did not stiffen up, she relaxed into him. The man that took everything from her. Tried to kill them.
It hurt.
The Master smiles at them. It scares them. He smiles a mean smile, one that strikes a paralyzing fear. The Master looks down at The Doctor. It scares them. He smiles a soft smile, one that shines with love and adoration.
They watch them. The two Time Lords with a relationship they can’t hope to understand.
